The Kingdom of Four Rivers

by Guy Salvidge

“For many years, no one came back to Shulao, fearful as they were. But time changed this, and for more than a century explorers and scavengers came to the city to take all that they could carry. Much of what was scavenged eventually found its way to Zhenghe. But I know a secret, one so important that I have waited until we were far away from Luihang to tell you.

  “The city had been picked over a thousand times, and little of worth remained. The winds of time have blown through the city, turning it to dust. At least, nothing of worth remained on the surface.” Bao Min paused to let this sink in. “But Shulao is full of underground tunnels; it's virtually a subterranean city in itself. Many of these lairs remain undisturbed today, like buried treasure chests. There may even be people living inside them.”

  “Have you seen these people?” Liang asked.

  “No, I have not. At least not living people.”

  “Is this why you brought us here, to pillage the tombs of our ancestors!” Tuan said. “Why did you not speak of this earlier? I would not have consented to it!”

  “They are not tombs,” Bao Min said. “You misunderstand me, Mr. Chen. I have not seen any tombs, and if I did, I would not enter them. You must not think of me as a grave robber, for I am not. No, the underground lairs are like cities, great sprawling networks of corridors and rooms. They are not easy to break into, and they are difficult to navigate. But the potential rewards are tempting. I chose you, Chen Tuan, because I thought it was your right, as you had done so much to improve the lives of the people of Luihang over the years.”

  “I must consider this,” Tuan said. “I must consider all that you have said. Now you must excuse me.” Tuan got up and shuffled toward his tent. No one dared say a word until the tent flap closed behind him.

  “You must have known about this,” Liang said to Cheng. “Why did you not mention it before?”

  “Bao Min said he would tell uncle Tuan where the treasure is buried,” Cheng said. “This he has done.”

  “Why must this change the situation?” Bao Min asked. “Did you think the precious things would just be lying on the ground?”

  “He's right,” Ji Tao said. “I don't see what difference it makes.”

  “The point is,” Cheng said, “that we need to get out of wheat and sugar. This gives us an opportunity to do so.”

  “Father will not allow it.”

  “Then I will talk to him myself,” Cheng said. “If need be, then I will lead the expedition.”

  “I thought better of you, cousin,” Liang said. “Leave him for now. You can talk to him in the morning.”

  When morning came, Tuan gathered them together around the still-smouldering camp fire. Red embers burned in the ash.

  “I have spent the night considering Bao Min's proposal,” Tuan said. “It was necessary to weigh up several factors. On one hand, it is true that our current business appears to be on uncertain ground. This is why Bao Min's initial suggestion met with my favour. On the other hand, whether these chambers are tombs or not, to pillage them would seem to counter the will of Heaven.”

  “Heaven can't help us here,” Cheng said.

  “Do not interrupt, nephew,” Tuan said. “The will of Heaven guides our every action. It has guided me throughout my life, saving me and my family—which includes you, Master Cheng—on several occasions. When Heaven commands, I submit to its will. I am not about to forsake Heaven now, in my declining years. It is Heaven that has brought us here, and Heaven that commands us to continue on this path. What I have realised is that it is our duty to find these ancient artefacts and bring them back to the cities. This I realised only after much deliberation. So it is decided—we shall continue on.”

  “Chen Tuan is a wise man,” Bao Min said.

  As if to vindicate Tuan's decision, the second day out from Luihang passed without incident. The weather had taken a cool, dry turn. They reached the ruin of Jianyang in late afternoon.

  Like Zizhong, Jianyang had once been a bustling town. But what separated Luihang and Baitang from Zizhong and Jianyang were the shields. While the former had been rich enough to erect their protective shields in the last years before the invasion, the latter had gone without. After the eastern invaders had swept through, stealing what could be stolen and burning the rest, Jianyang had been abandoned. And in the centuries since then, the rampant jungle had encroached into the town itself. Today the distinction between jungle and town had been lost. All that remained now was a handful of crumbling buildings on the bank of the Wu. One of these buildings provided shelter for the night.

  In the morning they woke to a heavy, grey sky. They quickly packed up their belongings into the caravans and prepared to leave.

  “It is a bad sign,” Sovann said to Ji Tao.

  “I like this weather,” Ji Tao said, ignoring Sovann's superstitions. “I've had enough of the heat.”

  The wind picked up, and the gaur pawed nervously at the earth. Here they would leave the river path, which led in the direction of Zhenghe, and strike west toward Shulao. But first they would need to cross the river at the fallen bridge.

  The Wu was narrow here, but swift. There had been a wooden bridge, but it had collapsed long ago, leaving only the corroded metal latticework.

  “You expect us to cross there?” Sovann asked Bao Min.

  “The water is too deep,” Ji Tao added. “We can't get across with the caravans.”

  “We must turn back,” Tuan said. The wind picked up again, as though river spirits were warning them of danger.

  “The river is wider north of here,” Bao Min said. “It may be shallow enough to cross.”

  “We have to try, uncle,” Cheng said. “I can't see another way.”

  At river's edge, the trees were tightly clustered. The cumbersome caravans could barely squeeze between them, and they had to double back several times. After an hour of this, they could still see the fallen bridge behind them.

  “I must apologise,” Bao Min said. “Rain has swelled the river. It was not so deep last time.”

  “I am rapidly coming to believe that Heaven does not intend us to cross the river at all,” Tuan said.

  “It looks shallower here,” Cheng said. “Let me see how deep it is.”

  “You'll be swept away!” Sovann said.

  “No, there's not much of a current,” Cheng said. By the time he was about a third of the way to the opposite bank, he was up to his waist in water. Then he must have lost his footing on the riverbed, for now he was swimming. Cheng reached the far side and climbed up onto the bank.

  “How are we going to get the caravans across?” Liang called across to him.

  “Perhaps we will have to leave them, and continue on foot,” Ji Tao said.

  “That is not an acceptable solution,” Tuan said. “After all, that is why Bao Min asked us to accompany him, is it not?”

  Bao Min nodded gravely.

  “It's no good,” Tuan said to Cheng. “You'll have to come back.”

  “Just let me take a look around,” Cheng said. “We can tie a rope to a tree on this side and string it across,” he said.

  “You expect Father to swim across the river?” Liang asked.

  “He can hold onto the rope.”

  Liang tied a length of rope to a sturdy tree on the east bank, and swam it across to where Cheng was waiting. The rope was tied to a similar tree on the west bank. Then the others began making their way across. Ji Tao had little trouble; as Cheng had said, there wasn't much of a current. Even Tuan managed without too much difficulty.

  “What about the caravans?” Sovann asked, her clothes dripping wet.

  “We need to get the gaur across first,” Cheng said. This proved to be a laborious task. Although the gaur could swim well enough, they were not accustomed to being led in this manner. As Cheng and Liang were the strongest swimmers, they took it upon themselves to lead each gaur into the river, holding onto the rein with one hand and the rope with the other. Ji Tao watched her brother moving through the water. Finally all six
gaur were on the west bank.

  “What about the caravans?” Sovann said for the second time.

  “They will float,” Cheng said.

  Cheng stepped into the water again and swam back to the east bank, not bothering to use the rope. He then proceeded to wheel the first caravan down into the water. The caravan started to float down the river. Cheng struggled to hang onto it.

  “Help me, cousin!” Cheng said.

  Liang dashed into the water and helped to save the caravan. Together he and Cheng were able to coax the caravan toward the far bank, and everyone helped to pull it out of the water. Then they rested and went back for the second caravan. By the time this operation was completed, the sun was high and Cheng and Liang were exhausted. But the crossing was complete. Before heading west, they filled every available container with water.

  “You must really want to see Shulao,” Ji Tao said to her brother as they sat down for lunch.

  “It needed to be done,” Cheng replied. “We'll have to find a better way across when we come back.”

  “This bread is soggy,” Liang complained. In fact many of their possessions had been soaked in the crossing.

  “These are strange days,” Sovann said to Ji Tao as they packed the caravans up once more. “When your brother acts so recklessly, something must be afoot.”

  Ji Tao agreed. “Bao Min must have promised Cheng something.”

  The afternoon stint saw them ascending through the foothills of the Jianyang Ranges, in which the 'jewel' was nestled. The trees thinned here, exposing them to the full fury of the sun. Ji Tao sat on the seat of the middle caravan, holding the reins loosely. Kalliyan and Sovann sat alongside her. The heat haze shimmered around them.

  “Let's stop,” Kalliyan said. “We should wait until evening.”

  But Cheng was possessed. He would not hear of it, claiming that it would be cooler at the top of the hill. “It's not as far as it looks,” he said from the front caravan. He had chosen to sit with Bao Min rather than his own family. “Just a bit further.”

  But it was further than it looked, and the gaur suffered up the hill. Although the incline was not steep, the gaur were beginning to slow down. Cheng's caravan began to dwindle into the distance.

  “I'm stopping,” Ji Tao said. Finding a patch of shade, she unhitched the gaur's shoulder straps and allowed them to drink. The third caravan, led by Tuan, followed them into the shade. Cheng's caravan was a white dot on the yellow hillside.

  “Do you think he will wait for us at the top?” Sovann asked.

  “Don't count on it,” Ji Tao said. “Whatever Bao Min said to him, it's having an effect.”

  “Cheng is not usually so impatient,” Tuan said. “I wonder why this is.”

  “He's not stopping,” Liang said.

  When they finally got to the top of the hill, Cheng's caravan was nowhere to be seen. Ji Tao had imagined that the hill they had just climbed would give them a glimpse of the broken jewel, but it was not so. The road, which by now was little more than a sandy trail, snaked off into the distance.

  They had stopped at the hilltop to look for signs of Cheng. Tall trees afforded precious shade. A slight breeze wafted over the hillside.

  “He follows his own path now,” Tuan said.

  “He's left his own son behind,” Sovann added.

  “Perhaps he intends to wait for us further along,” Kalliyan offered.

  “We will decide whether to continue or return to Luihang,” Tuan said, climbing down from his seat. “Gather round.”

  “Papa must be waiting for us,” Yi Min wailed.

  “We must decide whether to continue,” Tuan said. “I will hear your opinions.”

  “I say we go back,” Sovann said. “This is a fool's errand.”

  Kalliyan was in favour of returning to Luihang as well.

  “It would be a shame not to see the great jewel,” Liang said. “After we've come all this way. I say we continue. What do you think, Ji Tao?”

  “I don't know why we'd turn back when we're so close to Shulao. Besides, how do you intend to cross the Wu again?”

  “Ji Tao makes a valid point,” Tuan said.

  “We must hurry!” Yi Min said. This left two in favour of returning to Luihang, and three in favour of continuing. Tuan was yet to decide.

  “We must consider the situation carefully,” Tuan said. “There is much uncertainty. If Cheng has indeed left us here, then to continue could be dangerous. But, as Ji Tao says, returning has its own dangers. And it may be that we are wrong, and that Cheng is just impatient. It is possible that he is waiting for us further along.”

  “Then we should continue,” Liang said.

  “For the moment, I think we are left with no choice,” Tuan said.

  “Uncle is wrong if he thinks that Cheng waits for him,” Sovann said. “He has gone to find his treasure.”

  Without Cheng to hurry them on, their pace slackened. They made frequent stops wherever shade presented itself. Late in the afternoon, the sun began to sink into the west, and Ji Tao shielded her eyes. When the sun touched the distant hilltop, the whole world seemed to light up with its radiance.

  “We will make our camp here,” Tuan said. “We'll reach Shulao tomorrow.”

  They did not make a fire that night. A fire up here on the hillside would be visible for miles around. Their meal was simple, and for the most part they ate it in silence. As the sky darkened, so too did Ji Tao's mood. These hills had once been the scene of a great battle. How many ghosts must linger here? It was a dark place, and the wind was beginning to chill her.

  “You can sense it,” Tuan said to Ji Tao after the meal. His face was oddly still, his lips not seeming to move.

  The night engulfed them. Yi Min insisted on sleeping in Ji Tao's tent, but her mood offered the boy little consolation.

  “Do you think we'll catch up with Papa tomorrow?” he asked. “Auntie, are you listening to me?”

  “Go to sleep, Yi Min.” The moon was rising. Shapes seemed to move at the edge of her vision. Ji Tao closed the tent and lay still. Yi Min was trembling.

  “I want Mama,” he said. “Auntie, I'm scared.”

  “Go to sleep,” she said. “We'll find your father tomorrow.”

  The boy did not stir, but Ji Tao knew he wasn't asleep.

  In the morning, Ji Tao woke elated, as today they would reach Shulao. Liang shared her enthusiasm, his earlier reservations having disappeared. Over breakfast they chattered excitedly about the treasures they would find in the old city.

  “We'll be rich,” Liang predicted. “When we get back to Baitang people will flock to hear our stories.”

  “You'll be just like Bao Min,” Sovann said. “Telling tall tales and selling junk at a profit.”

  “I take this to mean you don't approve?” Liang asked. Sovann didn't answer. He continued: “Anyway, we'll have to find cousin Cheng, or he might beat us to the treasure.”

  “I'm not sure my brother wants to be found,” Ji Tao said.

  “Then we'll have to find our own treasure,” Liang said. “How hard can it be?”

  The path through the hills was deceiving; it took longer than expected to reach Shulao. At the crest of every hill, Ji Tao strained to catch a glimpse of the jewel, but each time she was disappointed.

  When she made it to the top of a steep hill, Ji Tao was treated to a staggering sight. Shulao's shield was massive. It would swallow dozens of Baitangs and Luihangs. The dome was a reddish-orange colour. The sun shone through it, revealing great structures beyond. Ji Tao had seen drawings of it, of course, but nothing had prepared her for the scale of the city. From this side, about two-thirds of the shield appeared to remain intact. The broken section had a long, jagged edge.

  “It was the heart of an empire,” Tuan said.

  They stopped at the crest of the hill for a while. For Ji Tao, it was as though the great shield was an eye that seemed to wink at her. But there was no sign of Cheng's caravan on the road leading down to the shiel
d.

  “It's beautiful,” Sovann conceded. “To think that the ancients could have built such a thing as this.”

  “And then be stupid enough to destroy it,” Liang said. “What fools! Even an army of invading imbeciles should have been able to see the value of such an artefact.”

  “The people of Four Rivers laid down their lives to defend it,” Tuan said, “and in doing so they condemned themselves to oblivion.”

  “What a waste,” Kalliyan said. “Your ancestors were kings.”

  As the caravans trundled down the hillside, the great shield grew impossibly large in Ji Tao's vision. It was even more massive than it had appeared on top of the hill. They were dwarfed by it. But it was a dead surface, pocked with the scars of a thousand bombs. The shield itself told the story of the war. And then Ji Tao saw that the entire cityscape was flecked with greenery. The great towers of the city were choked with life; they were crumbling green columns, some of which leaned dramatically, on the point of collapse. Nature had taken the city by stealth, over centuries. The Great Thief.

  The shield seemed to radiate heat. After all, it had been designed primarily to keep out the harmful rays of the sun. As they descended toward the plain, upon which the shield rested like a half buried ball, the air grew uncomfortably hot. Where the path reached the plain, eddies of hot air swirled. They pushed on, working their way around to what would once have been the east gate. The shield was torn here; it was how scavengers had entered the city for hundreds of years. Massive sections of charred shield lay on the ground, indifferent to the march of years. Vegetable life had covered the buildings and obliterated the streets, but these tendrils did not touch the shield itself. The shield, even in broken shards, was utterly inimical to life. They had to detour around a segment so large that a hundred families could have lived on it. The broken section glowed weakly, warding them away.

  They entered Shulao between two shards of shield that remained pointing upward toward the sky. The gap was wide enough to admit a dozen caravans travelling alongside one another. Now Ji Tao thought it prudent to sit up on the seat of the caravan. The gaur seemed unconcerned; they were content to plod along the mossy path. Beneath where the shield had been penetrated, the damage to the city was most extensive. All that remained of the clusters of apartment towers that had once stood here was a vast steppe sparsely dotted with trees. Here and there a building still stood, but these declining edifices were on the brink of disintegration. But as human life had been banished from this place, animal life began to flourish. Flocks of pigeons and other birds made their homes in the skeletons of the decayed towers. The undergrowth at their feet was teeming with insects, grasshoppers and field-mice. A herd of antelopes grazed in the shade of one of the towers, not yet having regarded the Chens' intrusion as a danger to them. This was not a human city any longer, but a sun-drenched veldt teeming with life.