He got away and slipped inside an Internet café in an attempt to contact his team again, but no one responded to his hail. They must be observing radio silence.
Worry gnawed at him for Kaj’s safety. He should have tried to gain more intelligence from General Morar on where his friend was being held.
Frantic to return to Florida to retrieve his equipment and contact his friends, he’d returned to the hotel. They’d had no choice except to go the route involving magical beings and myths.
His chronometer now read thirteen hundred hours on Saturday afternoon. The air was hot and heavy and scented with a sweet floral fragrance. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He hoped they could complete their business at Dragon Balm Gardens and leave before it rained.
While he’d recovered in their hotel suite, Jen had visited the adjacent shopping mall again and mailed several purchases to her New York showroom. He liked how her eyes lit up when she described clothing items. She wore jeans with a V-neck top and short boots in antiqued brown leather.
He wore a navy shirt tucked into a fresh set of denims with a leather belt. She’d selected the brass buckle herself to replace the one he had given Smitty. Shopping for him seemed to delight her, and who was he to deny a woman pleasure on his behalf?
After Jen paid their entrance fee, they passed through the turnstile. She pointed to a vendor stand just beyond where they stood.
“Look, Paz, the symbol on that sign matches the logo on your tube of Dragon Balm.”
He adjusted his backpack. “Maybe that old man sells the stuff. Let’s buy some now. We might be in a hurry to leave later on.”
They strode over. Jen frowned at the different sized containers and the labels written in Chinese. “How do we know which one to get?”
He addressed the vendor in a native dialect. “I need the ointment for treating burn wounds.”
The older man gave a gap-toothed grin from under his wide-brimmed hat. “These jars contain topical analgesics, good for muscle aches and pains. Also useful on chest if you have bad cough. For more concentrated salves, you have to get prescription from healer and visit herbalist.”
Paz translated to Jen. “He says I’d need an order from a healer for a higher strength balm and would have to get it filled at an herbal shop.”
“Does this stuff have any antibiotic properties?”
He asked the vendor, who regaled him with the balm’s many benefits. “All of these formulations work to some degree for the same problems,” he told Jen. “I’ll try the red jar. He says it’s stronger than the white and may be all I need.”
Paz bought several small pots with their leftover cash as people streamed past them on either side. With his peripheral vision, he kept watch for any suspicious movements but no one paid them any particular interest.
He stashed the wrapped jars in his backpack. Now what?
Directly ahead were statues in colored plaster of historical figures and creatures of mythological origins. A diorama from Hong Kong’s past stood by a cluster of yellow flowers and tall leafy plants.
Tropical shrubbery graced the paths which looked to be as winding as Shirajo Manor. What was it with these places and their mazes? He admired the genius behind the defensive tactic. It was certainly an effective method to trap your enemy.
Jen pulled a printout from her pocket.
“What’s that?” He waved a hand at it.
“While you were gone this morning, I went to the hotel’s business center and looked up dragons on the computer.”
“What did you learn?” His mouth curved in appreciation. Whatever knowledge she had gained might prove useful.
The humidity caused the hair to curl around her face. She brushed a stray lock off her forehead. He watched her graceful movement, entranced by her slender wrist. He’d like to take her palm and swirl his tongue over her sensitive flesh.
“In Norse mythology, Fafnir was a giant who disguised himself as a dragon to defend his treasure. One of the items he guarded was a magic ring that brought its wearer unending wealth. However, the trickster Loki had taken that ring from the dwarfs who created it. The dwarfs were metal workers who made magical items for the gods.”
“Like our friend, Smitty?”
She nodded. “The dwarf who originally guarded the treasure cursed the ring that Loki took. Now instead of creating wealth for its wearer, it would bring death.
“A descendant of Odin named Sigurd killed Fafnir and stole his treasure. Sigurd ate the dragon’s heart in order to understand animals. He bathed in the creature’s blood to become invulnerable except he missed a spot on his shoulder.”
Paz grimaced. “Sounds gruesome.”
“Let me continue. Sigurd was in love with a Valkyrie named Brynhild. The Valkyries were virgin maidens who served Odin. They could fly and carried the souls of dead warriors to Valhalla.”
He scratched his jaw. “Nira told us some of these stories but I don’t recall this one. What is Valhalla?”
“It’s Odin’s hall where the chosen dead lived in honor while they prepared for the final battle at Ragnarok, the end of all times.”
According to the prophecy, Ragnarok was coming again. Loki wanted to bring chaos and destruction to the multiverse in revenge for the gods banishing him.
Paz kept his dark thoughts to himself. “You’ve certainly done your homework.”
Jen beamed at him. “Listen to the rest. To mark his engagement to Brynhild, Sigurd gave her the magic ring he’d stolen from Fafnir without knowing it had been cursed.”
“So what happened?”
“He set off on a journey to a foreign court, where a magic potion made him fall in love with the king’s daughter. When Brynhild found out he’d betrayed her, she persuaded one of the king’s sons to kill Sigurd. The fellow pierced him at his weak spot on the shoulder. Brynhild repented and killed herself on his funeral pyre.”
“Ah.” He tilted his head. “And what does this tale of woe have to do with us?”
“How can Fafnir be here if he’s supposedly dead?”
He shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out. Maybe this dragon has no relation to Fafnir in the myth.”
“Well, if a real dragon exists, where would it hide?” She swept her arm to encompass the array of statuary, colorful wall murals, and lush plants.
Stone stairs took guests up and down the eight-acre hillside property. According to the guide map they’d been given with their tickets, faux caves, shrubbery-hidden alcoves, and picturesque ponds wound through the acreage.
“What about the house?” He pointed to a three-story palatial structure that stood atop a hill beyond a grassy slope.
The impressive building had a white lower level, red upper stories, and a curved tile roof. A green-covered mountain rose in the background. The scent of pine filled the afternoon air.
Bending her head, Jen consulted their brochure. “The Ra Mat family mansion is on the historic register. It has over five hundred relics and was built in the Chinese Renaissance style.”
“There could be underground passages in a house that size.”
“I suppose.”
Moving on, they passed the statue of a man with a goat head and a painted tiger poised on a bright blue boulder. Paz winced at the gaudy colors. Apparently others appreciated the art forms more than him, judging from the burgeoning crowd.
A spicy scent tickled his nose. He suppressed the urge to sneeze, swatting at an insect that droned by his ear.
The path took them on a circuitous route past a seven-story high white pagoda. A series of steps led to the entrance. Chinese lettering ran down the varnished wooden door.
“What’s inside that place?” He stopped beside a mural featuring an azure sky and fluffy white clouds.
Against this placid background, two dragons spewed cords at each other. The cords made a symbol in the center that looked a bit like the mansion on the hilltop.
Jen perused the pamphlet. “The pagoda contains Buddhist relics and the ashes of m
onks.”
Further along, they came to a scary statue of a husky man with big eyeballs, a wide sneer, and a muscular body. He carried a curved blade and looked as though he could come to life in an instant.
The next path wasn’t much better. Paz glanced in horrified fascination at ancient punishments depicted by grindstones to press a person to death, body stretchers to pull limbs apart, and tools to cut out tongues from gossipers and to sever hands from thieves.
“Ugh, this is awful. How can they show this stuff?” Jen scurried by the brutal scenes of torture.
“Some artist had a sick mind.” Paz took the lead up a staircase alongside an artificial cliff where plaster monkeys sprawled in various poses.
At the next level, he halted to scour the landscape and to sniff the flower-scented air. No cors particles. That was a good sign. It meant the Trolleks didn’t have a portal in the vicinity.
“We’re not accomplishing anything. We need a plan.” His leg throbbing, he lowered himself onto a boulder with a groan. Sweat made his shirt stick to his back.
Jen seemed impervious to the heat and the climb. Her chin jutted with stubborn persistence, while her stance indicated confidence. Despite his fatigue, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
“What if the secret ingredient for the balm really is dragon spit?” he said, feeling a bit lightheaded and trying to focus.
“If that’s true, how did the dragon get here and why does it remain?” Jen withdrew a water bottle from her backpack and took a drink, reminding him to do the same.
He glanced around. “It would be ages old by now. Where would it hide for so many years?”
“Don’t dragons always live in caves?” Her eyes brightened. “Maybe that’s what happened in the first place. The original member of the Ra Mat family trapped it here.”
Paz slurped water down his chin in his haste to drink. “So how do we find it? Let me see the map.” His energy restored, he stashed the bottle in his backpack and unfolded the brochure.
Squinting at the diagram, he studied the terrain as he would a battlefield. There had to be a tunnel running from the house to the dragon’s lair. The creature would have to be fed and watered.
His ears perked up. He’d heard the wind and the chatter of guests and the tinkle of chimes. But now as he listened acutely, he picked up the sound of a trickling stream.
He stood abruptly, clutching the map. Despite the fake rocks, this entire park sat on a real mountainside.
“I’ll wager there’s a brook that goes underground at some point to supply the dragon with drinking water.”
She adjusted her sunglasses. “So what? Even if we find where it disappears into a crevice, we can’t enter there.”
He pointed to a nearby mural depicting flying creatures by a set of heavenly gates. “One of these displays might hide a door.”
“Where it could be discovered by landscapers? Why wouldn’t it be somewhere on the real mountainside?”
“The irony. I’ll bet the Ra Mat brothers built this place for the sole purpose of disguising their activities. Just like Shirajo Manor, the winding trails and twisted paths were designed to confuse the enemy and protect their secrets. Confuse and Conquer. I shall have to relay this strategy to Prince Zohar.”
“Prince Zohar? I thought you said he was your team leader.”
Jen had meant to question him about this earlier. Hadn’t it been General Morar who’d mentioned the royal title?
She hadn’t thought to bring up the subject in their hotel room when she’d described to Paz all that had occurred to her at the Trollek fortress, including what she’d learned from Algie.
Paz straightened his spine. “Zohar Thorald is Captain of the Drift Lords and Crown Prince of the Star Empire. When we vanquish the Trolleks, he will assume his rightful place as emperor. Nira Larsen has agreed to be his bride. They have many problems to overcome, including political dissidence at home.”
“Oh.” Jen didn’t ask where Zohar’s home was located. She could barely grasp the concepts of ancient myths come to life and aliens from other worlds. It behooved her to meet Nira as soon as possible.
Paz strode toward the sound of the water. Jen kept pace, observing how he favored his injured leg. The exertion must be hurting him. He’d pinched his lips together, a frown creasing his brow. Stubborn man. He should let her find the stream while he rested, but she wouldn’t dare suggest such a thing. It would injure his pride.
At the park’s far border, a brook cascaded down a series of rocks. Beyond a perimeter fence, woods led uphill toward a summit. Was that the same peak where they’d landed after their sojourn at sea?
If so, it wasn’t any coincidence. She’d learned that fate played a hand in how things were meant to be. If only she knew how to use her watch to take them to the places they wanted to go. That was the first item on her list to ask Nira to teach her.
“Here’s where the water goes underground.” Paz tracked the stream with his finger. Instead of emptying at a pool, it disappeared into a crack between two rocks.
“So how do we find a usable entrance?”
He gestured to a shaded area with a bench under a leafy oak tree. “Over there.”
The small grotto squeezed between angled walls was painted cobalt blue with plaster casts of dragons on either side. Rope-like cords spewed from their mouths as on the other display they’d seen. The cords joined in the center to form a similar symbol resembling the mansion on the hill.
Jen’s heart accelerated. “Wait a minute. Show me your Dragon Balm jar.”
He took one from his sack, and she pointed to the label. “Look, this logo matches that drawing on the wall.”
His eyes gleamed. “These murals must be clues. I’ll bet they’re scattered throughout the garden. Maybe this one hides the entrance to the passages below. It’s closest to where the stream vanishes into the mountain.”
“Then we’re on the right track. What next?”
“We’ll search for a door.”
He put away the jar and then approached the recess for a closer examination. Jen, adjusting her backpack, followed at his heels.
Twigs and dead leaves covered the ground. When she’d kicked them away, a swirl of inlaid stones drew her attention. Shaped in a semi-circle, the ends curled inward. She bit her lower lip, concentrating. Surely that wasn’t a natural formation? It looked too perfect, like combed Japanese serenity gardens.
While she contemplated what it meant, she withdrew a couple of energy bars from her sack and offered one to Paz. They munched for a few minutes in silence.
Paz stuffed his empty wrapper into a pocket and moved toward the grotto walls. He pressed his hands around the enclosure. Nothing happened. A scowl marring his features, he pushed at the faux jade flowers cemented into the rear wall. His shoulders hunched as he prodded the solid surface.
Jen wrinkled her nose. “Do you smell that? Come over here. Ugh, it reminds me of the dead lizards we used to find in our garage at home.”
She glanced down. Of course, how could they be so stupid as to overlook the obvious?
“Paz, the entrance is right here beneath our feet!”
“You may be right.” He started to kneel but his face went white. “Would you mind?”
Jen crouched and used a stick to brush aside the loose dirt by the fixed stones. A metal handle poked up from the earth where she’d cleared the soil. She tossed aside the piece of wood and yanked on the bar. Her arm muscles bunched. Finally, with a cloud of dust, a square section of ground lifted up. She propped the lid open, weighting it with a couple of heavy rocks.
Paz peered at their surroundings. “No one is around. We’re clear to go. What’s down there?”
“Give me your flashlight. I’ll take a look.” After a moment, she aimed the light at the hole. “A set of stairs descend into darkness. You should stay here while I scout below. I know your leg is bothering you.”
“I’ve had worse. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” At his sardonic look, she gave up trying to convince him otherwise. “Okay, then you can take the lead. Age before beauty.”
Paz raised his brows. “Are you saying I’m too old for you?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s another slang expression, Paz. Move on before someone comes this way.” In preparation for the climb, she fished in her pocket for a scrunchy and tied her hair into a ponytail.
The foul smell brought bile to her throat as they descended. At the base of the stairs began a tunnel. Sensors must have been planted because electric lights mounted on the walls flared on at their approach.
Paz put away their flashlight and brought out his PIP. “There’s a whole network of passages down here. One branch heads toward the family mansion.” As they came to a fork, he stopped.
One path led upward, the other down. Paz signaled they should take the lower road.
Jen watched her footing as they descended deeper into the mountain. The damp air was cool, but it felt good after the heat of day.
A deep rumble came from somewhere ahead. The resonance made her nape prickle. What was that unearthly sound?
Her sense of dread increased. She didn’t want to find what creature waited for them in the dark.
Chapter Seventeen
Paz called for a breather after they’d traveled down a particularly steep incline. His thigh burned as though hot tar dripped onto his flesh. He gritted his teeth against the pain. If he didn’t apply some salve, he couldn’t go on.
He sank to the ground, leaning against a rocky wall. A steady dripping noise sounded in the underground chamber, where a dank, foul smell made his nose wrinkle.
He laid his sack down and rummaged inside for a jar of Dragon Balm and a fresh bandage.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Jen chided, regarding him with concern. “You won’t be strong enough to fight that monster.”
Warrior Rogue (The Drift Lords Series) Page 19