The Dragon Ridge Tombs

by Tianxia Bachang

  They hurried past the putrid jade to the end of the passage. When they got out, the Partridge yelled at the American priest to seal the gap behind them so the fog couldn’t follow. Ripping a strip of fabric from his shirt, he wound it tightly around his arm, then activated the whirlwind digger and put one of its blades straight through his injured limb. The infected forearm thudded to the ground, and even with the tourniquet, blood gushed from the wound like a fountain. Before he could stop the flow, a dark curtain came down over his eyes and he fell into a dead faint.

  Father Thomas was now the only person left standing. With no time to waste, he had to get the two Chinese men back out into the open air. Just as he was about to grab hold of the Partridge, he saw something horrific: the amputated limb, now mostly liquid and bone, was lying in a puddle on the floor—and black specks were rising from this puddle, swirling through the air.

  Sunk in despair, Father Thomas was about to give up hope, when he heard a cough behind him. Spinning around, he saw that the Partridge had come to. Hurrying over, he helped him up and pointed at the miniature black fog, too anxious to speak.

  The Partridge was pale and trembling from loss of blood. It was a good thing he’d thought to tie a cloth around his arm, which had more or less staunched the flow now. Once upright, he felt most of his alertness come flooding back. A small cloud of black particles was hovering in front of the jade door, searching for warmth. He quickly got out his pistol again and fired it into the padlock.

  The lock juddered as the bullet ricocheted off it, and an ear-shattering rumbling came from the two holes on either side of the door. Sand began to pour out in a great flood.

  The Partridge and Father Thomas dragged World’s End frantically toward the exit, not looking back to see what was happening, though they could hear the sand continuing to spill behind them. It was probably designed to fill the entire passageway.

  They got through the door and were standing in the shaft with the ladder before they had a chance to draw breath. The Partridge smeared some Yunnan white ointment onto his stump, though there was no way he’d ever get this arm back. It looked like his reverse-dipping career was over. He could have vomited blood again with frustration, so he quickly gulped down two more heart-stilling tablets to calm himself.

  He was most concerned about the state of the old monk. The other two had only come to Black Water City because of him, and if the journey were to cost World’s End his life, that’d be a bigger sin than he was prepared to take on. He and Father Thomas propped the old man into a sitting position and examined his injuries.

  The American priest touched his back, and his hand came away bright red. “It’s blood! The monk is wounded.”

  During their headlong flight, there hadn’t been time to see what had knocked out the monk. Now it was clear: in the fall from the coral tree, the skeleton attached to World End’s foot had broken apart on impact, and one of the bones had shattered and lodged deep in his back. There was a good chance it had pierced a major organ—in which case the old man might be beyond help.

  The Partridge emptied the entire bottle of Yunnan white ointment over the wound, but blood kept gushing and washed it away. Helpless, he wept as he got a northern pearl from his bag, crumbling it under the monk’s nose, hoping to revive him for at least a few moments to hear his last words.

  As the powder entered his nostrils, World’s End coughed a couple of times and awoke. He looked groggily at the two sobbing men, then gazed down at himself and knew he didn’t have long. Clutching the Partridge’s right hand, he said, “I’m leaving this vessel that is my body, but don’t be sad. Listen well; I need you to remember these words.”

  The Partridge nodded, and the monk went on. “I haven’t been a gold hunter for many years now. My charms belong to you, though it’s a shame I didn’t have time to teach you all the secrets. If you have a chance, go look up my old colleague Golden Abacus. He goes around disguised as a merchant, and he operates on the banks of the Yellow River. He’s peerless. The only one who could give him a run for his money when it came to yin-yang feng shui was Third Master Zhang, who is, alas, deceased. As for gold diviners, once I’m gone, there won’t be any more in the world except Golden Abacus. If you bring my charms to him, he’ll help you. Oh, and here’s the dragon fossil I picked up from the inner sanctum. It’s covered in references to the phoenix gall, and it might hold some vital clue. You might be able to find the eye of the divine just by studying it.”

  Again the Partridge nodded, though he knew that with his arm gone, he might not be able to get hold of this artifact, even if he found out exactly where it was. The old monk was fading fast. He seemed to have a few final thoughts but was choking too much to open his mouth. He bit his lips, trembling all over.

  With the last of his strength, World’s End managed to say, “You…must remember…don’t kill…reverse dipping is bad karma…be merciful…I’m fading…” And with that, he quietly slipped away.

  The Partridge knelt by him, kowtowing again and again. Father Thomas had to beg him to stand. This was no place to linger. The two men climbed back up into the temple, then ceremonially burned the monk’s body in front of the jeweled Buddha. With tears in their eyes, they finally departed.

  For many years after that, the Partridge did as World’s End had urged him, seeking out the Golden Abacus in the valleys around the Yellow River. He traveled the whole territory without a single sighting of him. He also showed the dragon fossil to every scholar he met, and not one of them could tell him what it said.

  The world was in chaos at the time, and an enormous war was brewing. With Father Thomas’s help, the Partridge was able to emigrate to the faraway United States. Brokenhearted, he settled in the state of Tennessee, where he was determined to live out the rest of his life, secluded from the world.

  After that, a series of wars tore China apart, and it would have been hard to find the eye of the divine. As for the Partridge’s tribe, their numbers withered away. The Partridge was crushed to think that in a hundred years at most, the bloodline was likely to be broken, and his ancient people would be no more.

  The Partridge didn’t remain alone in his adopted home. He married, and he and his wife raised a daughter. In turn, she married and had a daughter of her own—Julie Yang.

  The Partridge’s son-in-law, Yang Xuanwei—Julie Yang’s father—learned about the Partridge’s story. He was fascinated by archaeology and loved adventure, and wanted to save his child from the iron sickness. He put his plan into action. As a young man, he’d immersed himself in the culture of the Western Regions, though he’d mainly studied the Han and Tang dynasties, when this part of China was at its most prosperous. Yang Xuanwei didn’t know much about the Jingjue Kingdom, but he was certain that its ghost-hole contained some important clues. He was a man who believed that everything could be understood through science.

  When China reformed and opened its borders, a second wave of desert explorers arrived. Joining them, Yang Xuanwei assembled a team and launched an expedition. Unfortunately, after entering the desert, they were never seen again. And when Julie Yang, in turn, enlisted Professor Chen and his students to help find her father, we passed through the black valley of the Zaklaman Mountains, ending up in the ancient Jingjue City, where we saw the bottomless ghost-hole.

  Of the people who made it out alive, Professor Chen was in a precarious mental state, his mind destroyed by the shock. At the time, Julie hadn’t yet learned just how intimately her own story was bound up with the Zaklaman.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Shortly after Professor Chen and Julie landed in America, the red marks showed up on their backs. The professor was in a particularly bad state, showing symptoms of a rare iron deficiency. Nothing the doctors did helped. Meanwhile, having learned from the seer’s prediction that she was a Zaklaman descendant, Julie realized that this business was far more complex than she’d ever thought, an
d that the ghost-hole was just the tip of the iceberg.

  “I made an important discovery,” Julie said. “The writing on the dragon fossil that no one could read is exactly the same as the strange marks on our backs. These strange symbols supposedly indicate the location of the eye of the divine. Now we just have to get our hands on it. Otherwise all of us—you, Kai, Professor Chen, and I—will die agonizing deaths. Professor Chen, being older, is already starting to suffer.”

  “What a story,” I told her. “I can’t believe your grandfather was the Partridge. I’m trying to let it sink in.”

  “It is pretty incredible. I hope you’re not scared,” said Julie. “Because I need your help finding the location of the eye of the divine.”

  “What!” I cried. “Of course I’m not scared. And I’m not going to just stand by while you and the professor are in danger. While all four of us are.” I stood from the park bench and started to walk off.

  “Where are you going?” Julie called after me.

  I turned around. “We’ve been talking all afternoon, and it’s getting late. Kai and Gold Tooth are still waiting for us at the market. I should help pack up the stall.” I gestured for her to follow me. “We can go find Professor Qiu in Shaanxi tomorrow. He has to reveal what he knows.”

  Julie sighed. “Impulsive as always.” She got up and we headed out the way we’d come. “It’s never going to be as simple as that,” she went on. “Why do you think Professor Qiu is so tight-lipped? Don’t you think he might be afraid for his own safety?”

  “Could be,” I admitted. “Or maybe someone in power is putting pressure on him to be silent. You Americans don’t understand certain things about Chinese society.”

  Julie shook her head, confused. “Like what?”

  “Let me give you an example. Let’s say a powerful figure announces that one plus one equals three. Then along comes Professor Qiu to prove that one plus one adds up to two. Because the guy who spoke first is more powerful, he’s not going to want to be contradicted. Professor Qiu might have deciphered the dragon bone writing and discovered something that didn’t fit with the present social order, so his bosses would have told him to keep his mouth shut. That might be why he was behaving so strangely.”

  Now that I knew what was at stake, I was more determined than ever to shake the truth out of the professor. I’d be saving myself and paying back Julie for the time she’d saved my life.

  “Let’s go get Kai and Gold Tooth,” I now said to her. “We need their help. We’ll plan our next move over dinner.”

  Back at Pan Market, we found the other two wrapping up a deal selling some jade headbands. These were poor specimens, but business had been so good these few days that we were now scraping the bottom of the barrel, and we would soon need to make another trip to Shaanxi to replenish.

  I helped pack up, and then we headed to a restaurant. Once we were seated, Julie filled the others in on the startling tale she had told me and announced that I was going to help her find the eye of the divine.

  Gold Tooth’s eyes were wide. “I think it would be better to just stay here and enjoy a few more good years,” he said. “Business is booming! If you go reverse dipping instead, well, you never know how things will turn out. Those tombs are full of dumplings.”

  “But, Gold Tooth,” Kai said, “we’d need to reverse dip anyway. How else are we going to get more stock to sell? Don’t worry, we won’t make you go with us. If there really are dumplings, count on me to deal with them.”

  The older man grinned, flashing his gold tooth. “Tough guy! Everyone knows you’re a real hard case.”

  Kai nodded, then frowned. “Wait, are you making fun of me?”

  “Not at all,” said Gold Tooth smoothly.

  Seeing Julie silent and frowning, I knew she was worrying about Professor Chen. “All right, guys, let’s get down to business,” I said. “And, Kai, this is a nice restaurant, so don’t sit with your legs up like that.”

  “It’s comfortable,” Kai said. But he lowered his feet, which were resting on the chair, his knees bent upward.

  “All right, we need a plan. How are we going to get this eye of the divine?” I continued.

  Kai perked up. I was pretty sure he was excited to go reverse dipping again, and he didn’t care about finding the eye as long as we got to break into tombs and steal treasure. Gold Tooth’s eyes were sparkling too—any antiques we brought back would sell for a pretty penny. And with his black-market connections, he’d be able to get us whatever we needed for our expedition.

  The four of us talked for a while before finally deciding that our first step would have to be deciphering the dragon bone. The next morning, Julie and I would go find Professor Qiu and pry the meaning of those symbols out of him. Meanwhile, Kai and Gold Tooth would stay in Beijing and make the necessary preparations.

  Julie handed me the gold-hunting charm left behind by World’s End. I was thrilled—it made me feel like a proper reverse dipper. It seemed the fates had bound us as a trio of reverse dippers.

  Julie also brought back some of the gold-hunting apparatus left behind by her grandfather: a steel umbrella, a corpse rope, flying-tiger claws, a whirlwind digger, seeking-dragon smoke, a wind-cloud sack, corpse incense, corpse gloves, northern pearls, a yin-yang mirror, and water-fire shoes. There was also a bag of various gold-hunting remedies for poison and various afflictions.

  These were the things that gold hunters had relied on for centuries, and now we had access to them too. Many of them I’d heard of but had never actually set eyes on.

  With these traditional implements, plus the modern tools Kai and Gold Tooth would pack—shovels, flashlights, gas masks, binoculars—we’d be prepared for anything. Still, when we’d failed in the past, it was usually because we’d underestimated our opponents. That’s how it is with reverse dipping—experience and courage are much more important than any amount of equipment. And we had the experience, though none actually counted as reverse dipping. The excursion with Kai at Wild Man Valley was to a deserted military installation; the Jingjue City expedition with Julie, Professor Chen, and Kai was technically an archaeological dig; and the Dragon Ridge tomb was empty. Still, they had been arduous experiences, and we’d learned a lot from them.

  Even so, we were talking about people’s final resting places, which meant a lot to the ancients. Any tomb we entered would be full of defenses—we’d have to be careful.

  Our discussion over, we parted and headed to our respective lodgings. The next morning, Julie and I caught a flight to Xi’an, and from there we took a train to Professor Qiu’s archaeological camp at Gulan. There, we were told that an accident had shut down the site, and Professor Qiu had left abruptly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Luckily, Mr. Liu told us that Professor Qiu had left for Stone Tablet Village, not far from Gulan, half a day ago. He counseled us to take a guide, as the landscape was confusing. With that, he hollered into the street, and a boy of ten or so with a shaved head came running to us. Mr. Liu introduced him as his great-nephew, who came regularly to Gulan for his school vacations.

  “Erxiao, enough playing,” he told the boy. “Be good and take my friends to Stone Tablet. They’re looking for that archaeologist, Professor Qiu.”

  Erxiao was covered with dirt and had a runny nose. He nodded happily and skipped ahead to lead the way.

  Stone Tablet was indeed difficult to get to, passing over uneven ground and narrow pathways that were as twisted as sheep intestines. Erxiao cheerfully told us it wasn’t far off, just on the high peak up ahead.

  Julie couldn’t stand looking at this filthy child, and she finally got out her handkerchief to wipe his nose. “Your name is Erxiao? What’s your surname?”

  The kid dabbed at his nose. “Wang. I’m called Wang Erxiao.”

  “Hello, Wang Erxiao. I hope you’re not leading us into a trap,”
I joked.

  “What’s a trap?” the boy asked, staring at me.

  Julie smiled. “An innocent lamb. How refreshing,” she said.

  “You’re pretty,” Erxiao told her.

  I playfully swatted Erxiao on the head. “You’ve got good taste. But you’re too young to look at women. Kids these days…if they’re not hooligans, they’re lovesick.”

  Before I’d finished speaking, a tall man with a white bandanna around his head appeared around the corner. “Stay where you are!” he said, brandishing a heavy wooden club. “Did you say you’re hooligans?”

  I jumped, not having expected anyone to be out here in the wilderness. “Hey, lower your weapon. We’re all friends here. No need to cause trouble.”

  The man looked me up and down, waving the club aggressively the whole time. “You’re the one causing trouble. You can’t enter this area. It’s been sealed off by local soldiers.”

  I didn’t know if the guy was a soldier himself, but I doubted any would be armed with wooden clubs. Just as I was about to get into a proper fight with him, Erxiao ran forward. Fortunately, the man broke into a grin. It turned out that he and Erxiao knew each other from the village, and just like that, the man put away his club.

  The man spoke with a thick country accent. It took me a long time before I could finally understand what he was trying to tell us.

  It turned out that Stone Tablet Village—which got its name from a nearby ten-foot-high stone tablet from some past dynasty—used to have the only maker of coffins for miles around. He’d started out as a carpenter, and one day, he happened to be constructing a coffin when he took a dinner break before applying the usual eighteen layers of lacquer to the wood. After drinking a few glasses of beer, he began reflecting on how bad business was lately. The coffin was the first order he’d had in more than two weeks. In a temper, he thumped the side of the coffin and sighed, then fell into a drunken slumber on the lid.