Kingdom of the Golden Dragon (32 page)

Tensing's good humor changed the minute he left the monastery and saw what was developing before his eyes. A stranger, who according to what Nadia had reported had to be the American in charge of the Blue Warriors, was standing beside the helicopter. An arrow had completely run through one of his arms, but that hadn't prevented him from waving a pistol. With the other arm he held Nadia, feet barely touching the ground, tight against his body, so that she served as his shield.

About ninety feet away stood Dil Bahadur, the string of his bow pulled back to shoot, accompanied by Alexander, who was too stunned to do anything.

“Drop the bow! Move back or I kill the girl!” Armadillo threatened, and no one doubted that he would do it.

The prince dropped his weapon, and the two young men retreated toward the ruins of the monastery, as Armadillo fought to climb into the helicopter, dragging Nadia, whom he pushed inside with brutal force.

“Wait! You can't leave here without me!” the pilot yelled, running forward, but the American had already started the engine and the blades were beginning to turn.

This was the moment for Tensing to use his supernatural psychic powers and alter the course
of nature by calling on his resources as a
tulku
. He had only to concentrate and call on the wind to prevent the American from fleeing with the sacred treasure of his nation. However, if a wind sheer caught the helicopter in mid-flight, Nadia, too, would perish. The lama rapidly weighed the possibilities and decided that he couldn't risk it: a human life was more important that all the gold in the world.

Dil Bahadur was pulling back the string of his bow again, but his arrows were useless against the metal craft. Alexander had finally absorbed the fact that the vicious American was taking Nadia with him, and he began screaming his friend's name. She couldn't hear him, but the roar of the engine and the draft from the blades cleared her mind. She had fallen like a sack of rice across the seat where her captor had pushed her. As the helicopter began to lift off the ground, Nadia took advantage of Armadillo's struggle with the controls, which he was operating with only one hand since the wounded arm was hanging useless. She slid toward the door. She opened it, and without a second thought, never looking down, she dropped into empty space.

Alexander ran to her, oblivious of the helicopter that was racketing above his head. Nadia had fallen several feet, but snow cushioned the fall that otherwise might have killed her.

“Eagle! Are you all right?” yelled Alexander, terrified.

She saw him running toward her, and waved, more amazed at her accomplishment than frightened. The roar of the helicopter drowned out their voices.

Tensing went to her, too. As soon as Dil Bahadur saw that she was alive he turned and ran toward the room where he had left his father wounded by Tex Armadillo's bullet. When Tensing bent over Nadia, she shouted that the king was
badly hurt and gestured for him to go. The monk rushed after the prince, while Alexander folded his jacket and tried to make his friend comfortable amid the wind and blowing snow the helicopter had stirred up. Nadia was bruised from her fall, but the shoulder she had earlier dislocated had not been reinjured.

“It seems I'm not meant to die young,” Nadia commented, gathering herself to get up. Her mouth and nose were bleeding from the punch she'd taken from Armadillo.

“Don't you move till Tensing comes back,” ordered Alexander, who was in no mood for jokes.

From where she lay on her back, Nadia watched the helicopter ascend like a great insect, silver against the deep blue of the sky. It flew along the sheer side of the mountain and rose unsteadily through the funnel formed by the peaks of the Himalayas. Minute after minute it seemed to grow smaller in the sky, receding into the distance. Nadia pushed away Alexander, who wanted her to lie still in the snow, and with a great effort got to her feet. She put a fistful of snow into her mouth and immediately spit it out rosy with blood. Her face had begun to swell.

“Look!” shouted the pilot, who had not taken his eyes from his craft.

The helicopter was shuddering like a fly stopped by a windowpane. The Nepalese hero knew exactly what was happening: it had been caught in a burst of whirling air and the blades were vibrating dangerously. He began to wave his arms in the air, shouting instructions that, of course, Armadillo couldn't hear. The one possibility of escaping the whirlwind was to fly with it in an ascending spiral. Alexander thought it must be something like surfing: if one didn't take the wave at the exact moment and use its impetus, the ocean would roll the surfer under.

Armadillo had logged in many hours of flying, as this skill was indispensable in his line of work, and he had flown all kinds of aircraft—small planes, gliders, helicopters, even a dirigible. This was often how he sneaked unseen across borders with his illegal weapons, drugs, and stolen goods. He thought of himself as an expert, but nothing had prepared him for this.

Just as the helicopter was emerging from the funnel and he was whooping with triumph, he felt a powerful vibration shake the craft. It began to whirl faster and faster, as if it were in a blender, and he realized he couldn't control it. Added to the deafening sound of the engine and blades was the roar of the wind. He tried to be rational, calling on his steel nerves and store of experience, but nothing he tried worked. The helicopter continued to spin crazily, and a violent
crack
! warned Armadillo that the rotor had snapped. He stayed airborne several more minutes, held by the force of the wind, until suddenly it veered. For an instant there was silence, and Tex Armadillo had the fleeting hope that he still could steer, but immediately the 'copter began to drop.

Later Alexander wondered whether the man had been aware of what was happening, or whether death took him in a flash, without warning. From where he stood, Alex couldn't see where the helicopter fell, but they all heard the violent explosion, followed by a heavy black cloud of smoke billowing toward the sky.

Tensing found the king lying on the ground with his head in the lap of his son Dil Bahadur, who was stroking his hair. The prince hadn't seen his father since he was a boy of six, the age when he was taken from his bed one night to be deposited in Tensing's arms, but he recognized him because he had held his father's image in his
memory all those years.

“Father, father . . .” he murmured, helpless at the sight of the man whose life was draining away before his eyes.

“Majesty, it is I, Tensing,” said the lama, in turn leaning over the sovereign.

The king opened his eyes, glazed with death agony. As he focused, he saw a handsome young man who closely resembled his dead wife. He motioned him to bend closer.

“Hear me, my son, I must tell you something,” he murmured.

Tensing moved away, to give them a moment of privacy.

“Go immediately to the Chamber of the Golden Dragon in the palace.” The monarch spoke with difficulty.

“But, father, the statue has been stolen,” the prince replied.

“Nevertheless . . . go!”

“How can I do that if you do not come with me?”

From the most ancient times, the king had always accompanied the heir on his first visit, to instruct him on how to avoid the lethal traps that protected the Sacred Passageway. That first experience of father and son before the Golden Dragon was a rite of initiation and marked the end of one reign and the beginning of another.

“You must do it alone,” ordered the king and closed his eyes.

Tensing approached his disciple and put one hand on his shoulder.

“Perhaps you should obey your father, Dil Bahadur,” said the lama.

At that moment Alexander came into the room, supporting Nadia, who was still weak-kneed, by one arm; also with them was the Nepalese pilot who had not yet recovered from the loss of his helicopter and the string of surprises he'd
encountered on this mission. Nadia and the pilot stayed at a prudent distance, not wanting to interfere in the drama that was being played out between the king and his son. Alexander, meanwhile, stooped down to examine the contents of Judit's handbag, which still lay scattered on the ground.

“You must go to the Chamber of the Golden Dragon, son,” the king repeated.

“May my honorable master Tensing come with me? My training is only theoretical. I do not know the palace or the traps. Death awaits me beyond the Magnificent Door,” the prince declared.

“It will not be of help for me to go, Dil Bahadur,” the lama replied sadly. “I do not know the way either. Now my place is here, with the king.”

“Can you save my father, honorable master?” Dil Bahadur pleaded.

“I will do everything I can.”

Alexander went to Dil Bahadur and handed him a small object that the prince did not recognize or know the use of. “This will help you know what to do in the Sacred Passageway,” he said. “It's a GPS.”

“A what?” asked the prince, confused.

“Let's say it's an electronic map that will help you orient yourself inside the palace. You can find the Chamber of the Golden Dragon the way Armadillo and his men did when they stole the statue,” his friend explained.

“How was that?” asked Dil Bahadur.

“I imagine that someone recorded the secrets,” Alex explained.

“That's impossible. No one except my father has access to that part of the palace. No other person can open the Magnificent Door or avoid the traps.”

“Armadillo did both, and he must have used this system. Judit Kinski and he were partners. Maybe your father showed her the way,”
Alexander insisted.

“The medallion!” cried Nadia, who had witnessed the scene between the Specialist and Tex Armadillo before her friends came into the room. “Armadillo said something about a camera hidden in the king's medallion!”

Nadia apologized for what she was going to do, then, with the greatest care, she felt along the prostrate body of the monarch until she found the royal medallion, which had lodged between the king's neck and his jacket. She asked the prince to help her remove it, but he was reluctant: the medallion represented royal power and it would be disrespectful for him to take it from his father. The urgency in Nadia's voice, however, forced him to act.

Alexander carried the jewel to the light and quickly examined it. He immediately discovered the miniature camera hidden among the coral insets. He showed it to Dil Bahadur and the others.

“Judit Kinski undoubtedly put it there. This camera, no bigger than a pea, filmed the king's movements through the Sacred Passageway. That's how Armadillo and the Blue Warriors were able to follow him. Every step he took was recorded on the GPS.”

“Why did she do that?” asked the horrified prince; in his mind there was no concept of betrayal or greed.

“I suppose she wanted the statue, which is extremely valuable,” ventured Alexander.

“Did you hear the explosion? The helicopter crashed and the statue was destroyed,” said the pilot.

“Perhaps it is better so,” sighed the king, without opening his eyes.

“With the greatest humility, please permit me to suggest that the two young foreigners accompany the prince to the palace,” said
Tensing. “Alexander-Jaguar and Nadia-Eagle are pure of heart, like prince Dil Bahadur, and possibly they can help him in his mission, Majesty. Young Alexander knows how to use this modern apparatus and the girl Nadia knows how to see and listen with her heart.”

“Only the king and his heir may enter there,” murmured the monarch.

“With the deepest respect, Majesty, I dare to contradict you. Perhaps there are moments when tradition must be broken,” the lama insisted.

A long silence followed Tensing's words. It seemed that the wounded man's strength had reached its limits, but soon he spoke again.

“So be it. The three shall go,” the sovereign finally agreed.

“Perhaps it would not be entirely futile, Majesty, for me to take a look at your wound,” Tensing suggested.

“And why, Tensing? We have another king, my time is over.”

“Possibly we will not have another king until the prince proves that he is worthy,” replied the lama, lifting up the wounded monarch in his powerful arms.

The Nepalese hero found a sleeping bag that Armadillo had left behind, and they arranged a sort of bed where Tensing laid the monarch. The lama opened the king's blood-soaked jacket and washed his chest to examine it. The bullet had gone completely through, leaving an ugly hole where it had exited his back. From the look and location of the wound, and the color of the blood, Tensing realized that the lungs were involved. There was nothing he could do. All his skills of healing and his tremendous mental powers were of little use in a case like this. The dying man knew that as well, but he wanted a little more time to carry out his last responsibilities. The
lama stanched the hemorrhage, bound the king's chest tightly, and ordered the pilot to bring boiling water from the improvised kitchen so he could prepare a medicinal tea. An hour later the monarch was fully conscious, and was lucid, though very weak.

“Son, you must be a better king than I was,” he told Dil Bahadur, indicating that he should put the royal medallion around his neck.

“Father, that is impossible . . .”

“Hear me, because I have very little time. These are my instructions. First: Soon you must marry a woman as strong as you. She will have to be the mother of our people, and you the father. Second: Preserve the natural world and the traditions of our kingdom; trust nothing that comes from outside. Third: Do not punish Judit Kinski, the European woman. I do not want her to spend her life in prison. She has made serious errors, but it is not our place to cleanse her karma. She will have to return in another incarnation to learn what she has not learned in this.”

Only then did they remember the woman responsible for their tragedy. They felt sure that she could not have gotten very far. She didn't know the region, she had no weapon, provisions, or warm clothing, and apparently she was barefoot, since Armadillo had made her take off her boots. But it was Alexander's opinion that if she had been clever enough to steal the dragon in such spectacular fashion, she was clever enough to escape hell itself.