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Updated: June 20, 2025
They changed from mottled silver into faint rose, deepened to crimson. "The dragons of the sky drink the blood of the sunset," said Chiu-Ming. As though a gigantic globe of crystal had dropped upon the heavens, their blue turned swiftly to a clear and glowing amber then as abruptly shifted to a luminous violet A soft green light pulsed through the valley.
It was most fortunate that he had gone, and that I had found him. He recommended himself to me as the best cook within ten thousand miles of Pekin. For almost three months we had journeyed; Chiu-Ming and I and the two ponies that carried my impedimenta. We had traversed mountain roads which had echoed to the marching feet of the hosts of Darius, to the hordes of the Satraps.
A rifle-shot rang out above us; another and another. From the portal scampered Chiu-Ming, his robe tucked up about his knees. "They come!" he gasped. "They come!" There was a flashing of spears high up the winding mountain path. Down it was pouring an avalanche of men. I caught the glint of helmets and corselets.
I heard a sob from Chiu-Ming, saw him drop. Drake stopped, drew him to his feet. We placed him between us, thrust each an arm through his own. Then, like swimmers, heads bent, we pushed on, buffeting that inexplicable invisible flood. As the path rose, its force lessened, my vitality grew, and the terrible desire to yield and be swept away waned.
There was a rushing of many feet at our left; a wail from Chiu-Ming. Were they maddened by fear, driven by despair, determined to slay before they themselves were slain? I do not know. But those who still lived of the men from the tunnel mouth were charging us. They clustered close, their shields held before them. They had no bows, these men.
Game had been plentiful green things Chiu-Ming might lack for his cooking, but meat never. About us was a welter of mighty summits. We were, I knew, somewhere within the blending of the Hindu-Kush with the Trans-Himalayas.
And in that face, although as yet I could distinguish nothing but the eyes, I sensed something unearthly. "God!" whispered Ventnor. "What IS she?" The woman stepped from the crevice. Not fifty feet from her were Ruth and Drake and Chiu-Ming, their rigid attitudes revealing the same shock of awe that had momentarily paralyzed me. She looked at them, beckoned them.
I looked back. Even the ruins had lost their sinister shape; were time-worn, crumbling piles nothing more. I saw Ruth and Drake run out upon the ledge and beckon me; made my way back to them, running. "It's all right," I shouted. "The place is all right." I stumbled up the side; joined them. "It's empty," I cried. "Get Martin and Chiu-Ming quick! While the way's open "
"All my ammunition is on him." "Chiu-Ming's taking care of that," I gasped. We darted out of the gateway. A good five hundred yards away were Ruth and Drake, running straight to the green tunnel's mouth. Between them and us was Chiu-Ming urging on the pony. As we sped after him I looked back. The horsemen had recovered, were now a scant half-mile from where the road swept past the fortress.
Purposeful and deliberate. There was intelligence behind that." "Intelligence? Drake what intelligence could break the rays of the setting sun and suck down the aurora?" "I don't know," he answered. "Devils," croaked Chiu-Ming. "The devils that defied Buddha and have grown strong " "Like a metal claw!" breathed Drake.
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