Not that he expected it to, the blow made no impact at all. Instead, his fist was swallowed by the mass of fat. Instantly, he felt an intense stab of pain, as if his flesh was stripped to the bone. He snatched back his fist.
‘What the hell are you made of… gelatine?’
With speed far belying his stature, Cho-zen Li grabbed Quaint around the neck, lifting the six-foot-plus conjuror into the air. Taking slow, plodding steps he walked over towards the edge of the chamber’s parapet. Quaint felt the air in his lungs expire, his throat clamped by the warlord’s clammy fingers. He knew what was coming. Over the parapet was nothing but a very long drop. He let out a most uncharacteristic yelp as his toes scuffed against stone – and then trod nothing but air.
‘It should come as small consolation that from this height, the shock will probably stop your heart long before you hit the ground,’ said Cho-zen Li. ‘Did you really think that you would succeed in defeating me?’
‘It… had crossed my mind,’ wheezed Quaint.
‘Then you must have a very inflated opinion of yourself, Englishman.’
‘You’d be amazed… how often… I hear that.’
‘I do not doubt it,’ snarled Cho-zen Li with his teeth bared. ‘Do you honestly think that I rate you anywhere above the level of a minor annoyance? You are nothing but a gnat to be swatted away!’
‘Give me time… I’ll grow on you.’
‘Such spirit,’ said Cho-zen Li. ‘I think I will enjoy breaking it before you die.’
He threw the conjuror aside and Quaint felt a rush of cold air blast his face, forcing his eyes open – just in time to see a huge stone pillar looming into view at a tremendous rate. Tucking his head into his chest, he let his back take the brunt of the impact. Rising shakily to his feet, he shook some sense back into his head. Once his senses began working again there seemed to be a low rumbling sound echoing in his ears, like distant thunder – except this thunder was more like a stampede.
His limp body went flying through the air once again as Cho-zen Li smashed his full (and not inconsiderable) weight into him like a rhinoceros. Quaint felt his left arm break. Making matters worse, Cho-zen Li wasn’t planning on giving him any time to recover, and through the spots before his eyes he saw the warlord preparing for another charge. Quaint’s addled mind sifted through its inventory of options, but it was found wanting. He had nothing to play with. No tricks or quips, no strategy for success. On the whole, things had never looked bleaker.
With his wide and bloated formidable bulk, Cho-zen Li was impossible to avoid. Like a locomotive engine, he powered into Quaint, thundering the both of them towards another of the stone pillars. Quaint saw it, but Cho-zen Li was not so lucky. His skull collided with the pillar, smashing it to smithereens. Stone shrapnel pelted the air and curtains of dust rained down from the ceiling.
Quaint kicked against the floor, trying to get as far away from Cho-zen Li’s grasp as he could, and in a moment, both men were back on their feet, but once again, Cho-zen Li’s speed caught the conjuror unawares. Cho-zen Li locked his fat arm around Quaint’s neck in a choke-hold, and the Quaint had only just managed to charge his lungs before his access to oxygen was cut off. His eyelids felt like lead weights as unconsciousness arrived. But the fight was not quite over yet.
Fighting against Cho-zen Li’s flab, he bit down as hard as he could, tearing a chunk of flesh from the warlord’s arm. As Cho-zen Li’s grip ceased, Quaint slipped free of it. Once he’d got his breath back, Quaint could still taste the Chinaman’s flesh. It was as tough as week old beef and its stench penetrated his senses, forcing its way down his throat.
‘Whatever you’re made of, it’s definitely not gelatine, so what are you?’
‘What am I?’ Cho-zen Li roared. ‘This is what I am, Englishman! Take a good look.’ As the Chinaman lifted his fingers from the wound, Quaint did just that.
There was no blood, just a gaping hole. Beneath the flesh, Quaint thought he could see veins twitching, as grey as the skin surrounding them, but looking deeper into the wound, he immediately corrected his initial assessment. They were not veins but maggots; hundreds of them, undulating beneath the surface of the skin. Quaint turned his head away to catch his breath, but when he looked back he saw nothing but darkness in front of him. For a brief moment, he feared that the horrific sight had struck him blind, but as his eyes quickly adjusted, the darkness became Cho-zen Li.
Quaint gulped. ‘You’re going to hit me again, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ replied the warlord.
‘Thought so,’ said Quaint. ‘Well… you might as well get it over with.’
Cho-zen Li’s massive fist struck Quaint’s forehead, and the conjuror was out like an extinguished wick.
Chapter XXXII
The Garden of Life
Outside the mine entrance:
‘The boss has had his time, fellas, let’s go in!’ said Prometheus, breaking cover.
Just then, a group of four soldiers appeared at the entrance, and Makoi quickly snatched the strongman back down out of sight. Prometheus stared open-mouthed at the outlaw, and then at Yin, seeking a translation.
‘Makoi says that we can’t expect to just walk in the front door as easily as Mr Q did,’ Yin told him. ‘He wants us to think through a strategy and discover the best course of action!’
‘Sod strategies, the boss could be in trouble!’
Makoi tugged on Yin’s sleeve. ‘What is your giant saying?’
‘Oh, nothing much,’ replied Yin. ‘It’s just that Prom isn’t the sort to wait on the sidelines. He’s a bit like Mr Q in that respect, but don’t tell him I said that.’
‘I am in charge of this assault, and your friend will do things my way!’ said a disgruntled Makoi. ‘Every action must be weighed and measured, every possible outcome must be foreseen and countered, and every conceivable occurrence must be anticipated. Tell him: that is how I operate.’
Yin offered the outlaw a nervous grin. ‘All right… but he won’t like it very much.’
‘He does not have to like it!’ snapped Makoi. ‘He just has to do it.’
Beckoning Prometheus closer, Yin relayed the contents of Makoi’s message word for word. The Irishman squinted, as if the translation made no more sense than the Chinese. Muttering something into Yin’s ear, Prometheus darted to his feet and thundered towards the mine, with Butter tagging along in his wake.
‘What is he doing?’ yelled Makoi. ‘I thought I told you to tell him that he could not do that!’
Yin shrugged. ‘I did tell him.’
‘And? What did he say?’
Yin winced. ‘I’m not sure you really want to know.’
‘Give me a rough idea!’
‘It was somewhere along the lines of ‘Good luck with your strategies. If you need me I’ll be over there cracking skulls’… loosely translated. Sorry, I’d better… ’
Getting to his feet, Yin swiftly joined in the attack.
Makoi’s men crowded around. He could feel their eyes probing him for answers, desperate for their leader’s command.
‘Well, Makoi?’ asked one. ‘Do we follow them?’
Behind his mask, Makoi seethed. ‘Just make sure none of those soldiers gets away to raise the alarm!’ He watched as Prometheus and friends charged at the soldiers; armed with nothing but a sword and a hope.
‘Improvise, indeed.’
Inside the palace:
Yang peered around the corner of the wall at two soldiers stood guarding a curtained-off entranceway. Beyond the curtain was a door leading to the outside and freedom. Between that and them were the guards.
‘How does it look?’ asked Ruby.
‘Bad,’ the acrobat replied.
‘What do you suggest?’ asked Ruby.
From his tunic, Yang pulled out the scalpel purloined from Dr Shinzo’s operating room and handed it to Ruby. ‘Something right up your street.’
Ruby stepped into the corridor, her blouse unbuttoned, displayi
ng her ample cleavage. ‘I’m a bit lost,’ she purred. ‘Any chance one of you boys can help me out?’
The two guards removed their swords and barked at her in Chinese, pointing to the floor. Ruby translated their words to mean: ‘Get down or die!’ She was disinclined to do either. Instead, she whipped her hand from behind her back, throwing the scalpel with years’ worth of skilled precision. Slicing the cords supporting the curtain behind the guards, the heavy cloth collapsed onto the men, covering them completely.
‘You’re up, Yang,’ Ruby said, as a blur bolted past her.
Cart-wheeling at a tremendous rate, Yang struck the guards with the impact of a cannonball. Caught within the heavy folds of the curtain, the soldiers could do nothing to defend themselves. Yang back-flipped into the air, and slammed his full weight down onto the guards. Seeing movement underneath the cloth, he thrust the scalpel into it until it stopped moving and a dark stain seeped through the material.
Ruby offered Yang a hand up. ‘We make quite a team, you and I.’
‘Don’t tell Yin. He’ll think he’s out of a job,’ said Yang.
He spun on his heels and looked at the door directly behind him. It was almost seven feet high and just as wide – a suitable entrance for Cho-zen Li’s bulk. It was solid wood with ornate gold decorations all over it. Swirling snakes and flying dragons, their tails entwined within one another. In the dead centre of the door was a large representation of a lotus leaf in pure gold.
‘This is the entrance to Cho-zen Li’s garden… the source of all his power,’ Yang said, turning to Ruby – who did her best not to look too perplexed.
‘A garden?’ she asked. ‘How can a garden be the source of all his power? Does he grow prize-winning cabbages or something?’
Yang open the door wide. ‘Why don’t you take a look for yourself.’
Ruby raised her hand to her mouth. ‘Gosh, this is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see a place like this. It’s… beautiful.’ She walked slowly along the path, staring in wonder at what her eyes beheld. ‘In the middle of a warlord’s palace, on the highest point of a mountain, how can this place exist? It’s so… tranquil… as if we’ve just stepped through a door into another world.’
Her eyes were drawn to the neat rows of lotus plants on either side of the tiled pathway, leading up to the massive glass tank at the far end of the garden. She was captivated by it. Raw sunlight bathed its contents in such a way that it shimmered like liquid emeralds. Every now and then bubbles would rise to the surface, which was when Ruby noticed the rubber coils feeding into the soil from the vat - or was it the other way around? The fact that the green liquid looked suspiciously familiar took a while to connect.
‘That creepy doctor… he mentioned the plants… something about the oil?’
‘The oil is more valuable than gold to Cho-zen Li,’ said Yang. ‘The boss has come all this way to kill him, but he needn’t have bothered… for the warlord is not even truly alive.’
‘I’ve met him and he looked pretty alive to me.’
‘Looks can be deceiving, Rubes.’ Yang approached the tall glass cylinder and stroked his hand down its surface. ‘This oil is the secret to Cho-zen Li’s great power… but it is also his biggest weakness.’
Ruby cupped her hands to the glass and peered inside. ‘So what does it do? Why is it so precious to Cho-zen Li if it’s just some stuff to torture people with.’
‘What Shinzo was doing goes against the restorative properties of the oil. To him, it’s merely a fortunate by-product. According to what I heard from the staff about that monster, you were lucky I arrived when I did.’
Ruby jumped as a flurry of bubbles rose to the surface of the cylinder. ‘You said something about restorative properties? As in… the oil can heal you?’
‘It’s more like it slows down time’s effects on the body… like an elixir of life, if you believe in such nonsense,’ said Yang. ‘There are many rumours amongst Cho-zen Li’s staff. Most have served him all their lives. It is all they have ever known. Some have even been born within this very palace, and have performed the same duties for the warlord as their parents and grandparents before them. In some cases great-great-grandparents . Think about it, Ruby – entire generations of a family in servitude to the same man.’
Ruby frowned. ‘Great-great-grandparents? But that would make him—‘
‘Hundreds of years old, yes, I know. And the oil from these plants is the reason why. It’s how he has lived so long… and why he needs them to survive. He comes to this garden twice each day – at midday and midnight – to replenish his energies. It is not blood that flows through his veins. That is why I said that he wasn’t truly alive.
‘To all intents and purposes, the real Cho-zen Li died decades ago, perhaps more. He’s been nothing but a ghoul since then. The lotus oil might give his body the impression of life, but inside he’s an empty shell. No heart, lungs or any vital organs. Well, nothing that is still functioning, anyway. All the things that you and I need to keep us alive turned to dust an age ago. All that is left of Cho-zen Li now is dead from the inside out, and with every day his hatred grows stronger.’
‘That’s pretty grim,’ said Ruby.
‘Indeed it is,’ agreed Yang. ‘So how on earth is the boss supposed to defeat an enemy who’s already dead? That is why we need to warn him what he’s dealing with, and why we need to get ourselves down this mountain as quickly as we can.’
He led Ruby to the side of the garden’s wall and peered over the edge. Clouds obscured much of what was below, but what he did see made him shiver. Bleak, ragged, razor-sharp rocks descending hundreds of feet to the ground. There seemed to be no easy way down. But then he noticed a tiny path carved into the side of the mountain. Narrow enough for a person to traverse, although with great care. As the breeze shifted the clouds to mask his view, Yang prayed that the path led all the way down, or it would be a long and arduous climb.
Yang offered his hand to Ruby. ‘I can see a ledge about ten feet below us. All you have to do is hold onto this rope and lower yourself down gently.’
Ruby approached the wall and peered over, snapping herself back instantly as her face went icily pale. ‘Why didn’t you warn me not to look down?’
‘You told me not to!’ laughed Yang. ‘A promise is a promise.’
‘Next time ignore me!’ Ruby forced a swift breath of air into her lungs. ‘In these sorts of instances, I’d rather it was a broken promise than a broken neck!’
Once the rope had been secured to the huge glass cylinder’s base, and with Ruby clinging on for dear life above him, Yang gently lowered himself over the edge.
‘No turning back now, Rubes,’ he said. ‘Let us just pray that we get down this mountain in time to stop the boss from making a big mistake.’
Chapter XXXIII
The Lazarus Curse
Quaint finally returned to consciousness, clutching his broken arm to his chest. Grabbing hold of one of the chamber’s stone pillars, he dragged himself up to his feet.
‘You are a joke, Englishman,’ were the first words that met his ears, spoken calmly by Cho-zen Li. ‘Just fluff and bravado. You are weak, you are powerless, and you are predictable. If you are the best spy that Queen Victoria has to offer, then the British Empire must be in a sorrier state than I thought.’
‘I’m not here for the Empire,’ said Quaint, finding his feet. ‘You tried to kill the Queen. I came here to address that score… as well as a few more besides.’
‘Refresh my memory,’ said Cho-zen Li. ‘Living as long as I have, I have collected quite a few old scores. It can be quite a challenge keeping track.’
‘Aloysius Bedford.’
Cho-zen Li’s expression wavered. ‘That name is old news. Bedford is dead.’
‘Then let me give you another,’ said Quaint. ‘Polly North.’
‘Ah, yes. Poor, dear Pollyanna. She was so very trusting. And just like Bedford, she was easily swayed by the promise of great treasure. She ha
d a very grisly end, if the rumours about her demise are to be believed. Is that it? I thought you had something a bit more interesting than two dead archaeologists.’
Quaint ground his teeth. ‘The Pharaoh’s Cradle.’
‘Ah, now you see?’ chuckled Cho-zen Li. ‘I was right not to kill you. Perhaps you might turn out to be entertaining after all. What of the Pharaoh’s Cradle, Englishman? What exactly do you know, hmm?’
Quaint could feel his anger rising, giving him fuel to stand his ground. He took slow steps towards Cho-zen Li, determined not to let him out of his sight. There had to be a way to defeat him, but what was it? A physical assault was a pointless waste of time, that much was (painfully) clear. He needed time to think, time to plan, time to pull a miracle out of thin air. The only thing that he had at his disposal was to try to get under the Chinaman’s skin (not that it looked particularly inviting). There were not many men in the world that intimidated him, but the warlord was an all-round imposing figure (in every sense).
‘You sponsored both Aloysius Bedford’s dig in the 1830s as well as Polly North’s three years ago,’ the conjuror began, feeling his strength return, albeit far too slowly for his liking. ‘Acting as a simple antiquities collector, you supplied them with titbits of information, feeding their thirst for Egyptian history, leading them exactly where you wanted them, knowing full well that the tomb containing the Pharaoh’s Cradle was infected with a deadly bacterium.’
‘And what? You seek to hold me accountable?’ The Chinese warlord ambled slowly away from Quaint towards the parapet of the palace chamber. ‘If you want answers as to why I used Bedford and North to fulfil my plans, then I have none that you will understand, but know this… you have not lived through my eyes, you have not seen what I have seen. This might seem terribly important to you, but to me it is nothing. I have committed far worse crimes than murder, let me assure you.’
The Lazarus Curse Page 17