Kingdom of the Golden Dragon

by Isabel Allende

  “Why are they looking there? The kidnappers aren’t going to hide the girls in a place that is easy to find!” Alexander exclaimed.

  “We’re looking for any clues we can find, Alex. Soldiers are scouring the hills, too,” Kate explained.

  Alex remembered having heard that the Sect of the Scorpion knew all the mountain passes in the Himalayas. It was only logical that the men would be hiding out in some inaccessible spot.

  Alex decided that he couldn’t wait in the hotel any longer. “I’m not named Alexander, defender of men, for nothing,” he murmured, sure that the definition of his name must also include defending women. He put on his parka and climbing boots—the ones he wore when he went rock climbing with his father in California—counted his money, and went out to look for a horse.

  As he left the hotel, he found Borobá lying on the ground near the door. He swallowed a moan as he bent down to pick up the little monkey, thinking he was dead. Happily, the minute Alex touched him, Borobá opened his eyes. As he stroked him and murmured his name, Alex carried Nadia’s close companion to the kitchen, where he found fruit to feed him. The poor creature had foam around his mouth, his eyes were red, his body was covered with scratches, and he had bleeding cuts on all four little paws. However, as soon as he ate a banana and drank some water, he perked up a little.

  “Do you know where Nadia is?” Alex asked as he wiped the monkey’s wounds, but he could not decipher the screeches and gestures Borobá made in response.

  Alex was truly sorry that he had never learned to communicate with Borobá. He had had plenty of opportunity to learn the language of monkeys during the three weeks he was in the Amazon, and several times Nadia had offered to teach him. She said the language was composed of very few sounds and, according to her, it was something anyone could learn. It hadn’t seemed necessary to him, however; he couldn’t think of much he and Borobá would have to talk about, and Nadia was always there to translate. Now it turned out that the monkey had information that was the most important thing in the world to him.

  Alexander changed the battery of his flashlight and put it in his backpack along with the rest of his climbing equipment. The gear was heavy, but one look at the chain of mountains surrounding the city was enough to convince him it would be necessary. He packed a lunch of fruit, bread, and cheese, then rented a horse right at the hotel; several were available, since horses were the most common means of transport in the country. He had ridden during the summers he went to his grandparents’ ranch with his family, but the land was flat there. He assumed that the horse would have the experience he lacked in climbing steep trails. He made Borobá comfortable inside his jacket, and set off at a gallop in the direction the monkey indicated.

  As the light began to fade and the temperature fell, Nadia realized that her situation was desperate. After sending Borobá for help, she had stayed for a while to see what was happening on the steep slopes below. The rampant vegetation that grew in the valleys and hills of the Forbidden Kingdom became sparse the higher you climbed, and disappeared completely on the peaks of the mountains. That allowed her to see, though not clearly, the movements of the Blue Warriors, who had come out to search for her as soon as they were aware she had fled. One of them went downhill to where they had left the horses, undoubtedly to warn the rest of the gang. Judging by the quantity of supplies and equipment for horses she had seen, Nadia had no doubt that there were other men, though it was impossible to know the precise number.

  Some of the warriors had searched the area around the cave where the woman with the scar was guarding the kidnapped girls. It wasn’t long before it occurred to them to check out the peak. Nadia knew that she couldn’t stay where she was; her pursuers would pick up her trail very quickly. She couldn’t hold back a sob as she looked around her. There were many places she could hide, but it would also be easy to get lost. Finally she chose a deep ravine, like a slice cut into the mountain, to the west of where she stood. It seemed perfect; she could hide in one of the deep clefts in the terrain, though she wasn’t sure whether she could get out later.

  If the Blue Warriors didn’t find her, then neither would Jaguar. She prayed that he wouldn’t try to come alone, because one person could never take on the Scorpion warriors. Knowing her friend’s independent character, and how impatient he was with the indecisive ways of the inhabitants of the Forbidden Kingdom, she feared he wouldn’t ask for help.

  When she saw several men climbing toward her, she had to make a decision. The cleft she had chosen as her hiding place seemed much less deep than it actually was, as she was able to confirm as soon as she began the downward climb. She had no experience in this land, and she was afraid of heights, but she remembered the time she’d had to climb the abrupt walls of a waterfall in the Amazon, following the Indians’ lead, and that gave her courage. True, on that occasion she had been with Alexander and now she was alone.

  She had gone only two or three yards, clinging like a fly to the vertical rock wall, when the root that was holding her weight pulled loose as she was feeling for a foothold. She lost her balance and tried to grab something to steady herself, but her hand found only patches of ice. She began to tumble toward the bottom of the ravine. For a second she panicked, sure that she was going to die, but almost immediately she landed in some brush that miraculously cushioned her fall. Bruised and scraped and scratched, she tried to change position, but the movement tore a sharp cry from her lips. With horror she saw that her left arm was hanging at an abnormal angle. She had dislocated her shoulder.

  In those first minutes she felt nothing, her body had lost all sensation, but gradually the pain became so intense that she thought she was going to faint. And when she moved, the pain was much worse. She made an effort to stay alert and evaluate her situation; she could not allow herself the luxury of losing her head.

  As soon as Nadia could think a little, she looked upward and saw that she was surrounded with slanting rock; overhead was the infinite peace of a clear blue sky that looked as if it had been painted on. She summoned her totemic animal to her aid, and with an enormous psychic effort transformed herself into a powerful eagle that flew out of the canyon in which she was trapped, high above the mountains. She glided silently above the heights, observing from above the landscape of snowy peaks and, much lower, the intense green of that beautiful country.

  In the following hours, Nadia evoked the eagle every time she felt overwhelmed by hopelessness. And every time the great bird brought relief to her spirit.

  Gradually she was able to move, holding the helpless arm with her other hand, until she was hidden beneath some brush. And that was good, because the Blue Warriors had reached the summit she had fallen from and were exploring the area. One of them tried to climb down into the ravine but it was too steep, and he assumed that if he couldn’t do it, then neither could the fleeing girl.

  From her hiding place Nadia heard the bandits call to one another in a language she made no effort to understand. When finally they left, silence returned to the mountain peaks, and she felt the measure of their immense solitude.

  Despite her parka, Nadia was freezing. The cold was easing the pain of her injured shoulder and she was irresistibly sinking into sleep. She hadn’t eaten since the previous night but she felt no hunger, only a terrible thirst. She scratched at the pools of dirty ice that had formed among the rocks, and sucked a handful eagerly, but when it dissolved it left the taste of mud in her mouth. She realized that night was near and that the temperature would fall below zero. She closed her eyes. For a while she fought against fatigue, but then decided that if she slept the time would pass more quickly.

  “Maybe I will never see another dawn,” she murmured.

  Tensing and Dil Bahadur had returned to their modest hermitage on the mountain. It was a time usually set aside for study, but neither of them made any move to take the parchments from the trunk where they were stored; they had other things on their minds. They lit a small brazier and warmed their te
a. Before meditating, they chanted Om mani padme hum for fifteen minutes and then they prayed, asking for the mental clarity to understand the strange sign they had seen in the sky. They went into a trance, and their spirits abandoned their bodies to journey on a different plane.

  It was about three hours before sunset when the master and his disciple opened their eyes. For a few moments they sat motionless, allowing time for their souls, which had been far away, to settle again into the reality of the surroundings in which they lived. In their trances, both had had similar visions, so no discussion was necessary.

  “I suppose, master, that we will go to help the person who sent the white eagle,” said the prince, sure that this was also Tensing’s decision, since that was the path signaled by Buddha: the path of compassion.

  “Perhaps,” the lama replied, simply out of habit, for his determination was as strong as his disciple’s.

  “How will we find this person?”

  “Possibly the eagle will guide us.”

  They dressed in their wool tunics, threw yak skins across their shoulders, put on the leather boots they wore only on long walks and during the harsh winter, and picked up an oil lantern and their tall staffs. At their waists they bound packets of yak butter and flour for their tsampa. Tensing added a flask with rice liquor and a small wooden case that held his acupuncture needles, along with a selection of his medicines. Dil Bahadur slung one of his shortest bows and a sheath filled with arrows over his shoulder. Without further words, they set out in the direction the great white bird had taken.

  Nadia Santos surrendered to death. She was no longer tormented by pain, cold, hunger, or thirst. She was floating in a waking sleep, dreaming of the eagle. For moments at a time she would wake up, and then she would have flashes of consciousness in which she knew where she was and the condition she was in. She knew that her chances of survival were very slim, but by the time night enveloped her, her spirit had already liberated itself from fear.

  Earlier, however, she had suffered. Once the Blue Warriors had left and she didn’t hear them anymore, she made one try to drag herself up the steep cliff, but immediately realized that with her useless arm it would be impossible to climb without assistance. She didn’t try to take off her parka and examine her arm, because every movement was torture, but she could see that her hand was very swollen. From time to time she blacked out from the pain, but if she concentrated on it, it was much worse. She tried to keep her mind busy thinking other thoughts.

  Several times during the day she knew despair. She wept, thinking of her father, whom she would not see again; she called to Jaguar with her thoughts. Where was her friend? Had Borobá found him? Why didn’t he come? Once or twice she screamed and screamed until she lost her voice. She didn’t care if the men of the scorpion sect heard her, she would rather deal with them than stay there by herself, but no one came. A little later she heard footsteps, and her heart lurched with joy until she saw it was a pair of wild goats. She called to them in their language, but could not get them to come near.

  Nadia had lived her life in the warm, humid climate of the Amazon. She had never known cold. In Tunkhala, where people wore only cotton and silk, she had not taken off her sweater. She had never seen snow, and hadn’t known what ice was until she saw it on an artificial skating rink in New York. Now she was shivering. In the small recess in which she was a prisoner, she was protected from the wind, and thickets of brush made it slightly less cold, but with all that she found the temperature unbearable. She curled up in a ball for hours, until her stiff body lost all feeling. Finally, when the sky began to grow dark, she felt the strong presence of death. She recognized it because she had seen it before. In the Amazon she had seen people and animals be born and die; she knew that every living creature completes the same cycle. In nature, everything is renewed. She opened her eyes, looking for stars, but as yet she could see nothing; she was sunk in absolute darkness, for the faint glow of the moon lighting the peaks of the Himalayas did not reach the ravine. Again she closed her eyes, and imagined that her father was with her, holding her. The image of the witch doctor Walimai’s wife flashed through her mind, the transparent spirit who was always with him, and she wondered if it was only the souls of Indians that could come and go between heaven and earth as they pleased. She guessed that she would be able to do it, too, and decided that if that were true she would come back in spirit and console her father and Jaguar. Every thought, however, was costing her enormous effort; she wanted only to die.

  Nadia let go of the bonds that held her to the world and gently drifted upward, effortlessly, without pain, as gracefully as she had risen when she turned into an eagle and her powerful wings held her above the clouds, carrying her higher and higher toward the moon.

  Borobá led Alexander to the place where he had left Nadia. The little monkey was so drained from having made the trip three times without resting that he lost his way several times, but was always able to pick up the trail again. About six in the evening they came to the narrow path that led to the Blue Warriors’ cave. By then the men had tired of looking for Nadia, and had gone back to their normal routine. The frightening-looking fellow who seemed to be in charge had decided that they couldn’t waste any more time on the girl who had escaped their grasp; instead, they should follow their plan and rejoin the rest of the band in accord with the instructions they’d received from the American who had hired them.

  Alex observed that the ground was badly trampled and saw horse droppings everywhere; it was obvious that the bandits had been there, although he didn’t see any sign of them now. He realized that he couldn’t go any farther on horseback; the sounds of the hooves echoed like a giant bell; it would be impossible not to hear him, if someone were standing guard. He dismounted and let the horse go, in order not to signal his approach. On the other hand, he was sure that he couldn’t catch it again even if he went back the same way.

  He began to make his way up the mountain, taking cover among stones and boulders, following the course pointed out by Borobá’s trembling little paw. Dragging himself on his belly, he passed within sixty yards of the entrance to the cave, where he saw three men on guard, armed with rifles. He deduced that the others must be inside, or that they had moved on to another spot, because he didn’t see anyone on the slopes of the mountains. He supposed that Nadia was in the cave with Pema and the other missing girls, but alone, and without weapons, he could not take on the warriors of the scorpion sect. He hesitated, not sure what he should do, until Borobá’s insistent gestures made him doubt that Nadia was inside the cave.

  The monkey kept tugging at his sleeve and pointing toward the top of the mountain. One look was enough to tell him that it would take several hours to reach the summit. He could make better time if he weren’t carrying his backpack but he hated to leave his climbing gear behind.

  He was torn between returning to Tunkhala to get help, which would take a lot of time, and continuing his search for Nadia. The former course might save the captive girls, but it could be fatal for Nadia if she was in trouble, which Borobá seemed to indicate. The latter choice might help his friend, but it could be dangerous for the other girls. He reasoned, however, that it would not be in the Blue Warriors’ best interest to harm their captives. If they had gone to the trouble of kidnapping those girls, it was because they needed them for something.

  Alexander continued his climb, and when he reached the top it was already deep night, though an enormous moon was shining like a great silver eye. Borobá looked around, confused. He jumped out of the protection of the parka and scurried around in a frenzy, screeching with anguish. Alexander realized that the monkey had expected to find his mistress there. Crazed with hope, he began to call Nadia’s name in a low voice; he was afraid that echoes would carry his voice down the mountain and, in that absolute silence, reach the bandits’ ears. Soon he realized the futility of continuing to search in this rugged terrain with only the light of the moon, and concluded that it would be best t
o wait until morning.

  He settled in between two rocks, using his backpack as a pillow and sharing his food with Borobá. Then he lay quiet, with the hope that if he listened with his heart, Nadia could tell him where she was, but no voice came to him.

  I have to sleep a little if I want to get my strength back, he thought, exhausted, but sleep didn’t come.

  Near midnight, Tensing and Dil Bahadur found Nadia. They had followed the white eagle for hours. The powerful bird flew silently above their heads and at such a low altitude that even at night they could sense it. Neither of the two was sure what they were actually seeing, but its presence was so strong that they didn’t have to consult one another to know what they had to do. If they strayed, or stopped, the bird would circle, showing them the correct route. And that was how it had led them directly to the place where they were to find Nadia. Once they were there, the white eagle disappeared.

  A hair-raising growl stopped the lama and his disciple short. They were a few yards from the precipice Nadia had tumbled into but they could go no farther because an animal they had never seen before, a large cat, black as night itself, blocked their path. The beast was ready to spring, hair standing up along its spine, claws unsheathed. Its gaping jaws revealed enormous, sharp teeth, and its blazing yellow pupils shone fiercely in the flickering light of the oil lamp.

  Tensing’s and Dil Bahadur’s first impulse was self-defense, and both had to exert control not to call on the art of Tao-shu, which they trusted more than Dil Bahadur’s arrows. With a great effort of will, they stood still as stone. Breathing calmly, to keep from panicking and to prevent the beast from picking up the unmistakable scent of fear, they concentrated on sending positive energy, just as they had done with the snow leopard and the ferocious Yetis. They knew that the worst enemy, as well as the greatest ally, may well be one’s own thoughts.