The Ruined City
Page 1
First published in North America in English by Orca Book Publishers in 2018 as The Ruined City: The Golden Mask.
Golden Mask Book 1—The Arch
Copyright © Sichuan Fine Arts Publishing House Co. Ltd., China
Golden Mask Book 1—The Arch originally published in Chinese Language by Sichuan Fine Arts Publishing House Co., Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Wilson, John (John Alexander), 1951–, author
The ruined city / John Wilson.
(The golden mask)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4598-1970-2 (softcover).—ISBN 978-1-4598-1972-6 (PDF).—ISBN 978-1-4598-1971-9 (EPUB)
I. Title.
PS8595.I5834R85 2018 jC813'.54 C2017-907967-0
C2017-907968-9
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018933713
Summary: Howard and Cate travel through time in this fantasy novel for middle-grade readers.
Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printed this book on Forest Stewardship Council® certified paper.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Cover design by Teresa Bubela
Front cover image by Dehua Zhou
Author photo by Katherine Gordon
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
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Printed and bound in Canada.
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For Jen, who keeps me grounded in this dimension.
CONTENTS
A WARNING: DO NOT VOYAGE FAR!
SANXINGDUI: THE EMPEROR’S TEA
AYLFORD: THE DREAMING DAWN
AYLFORD: SCHOOL LUNCHES
AYLFORD: WHAT BOOK?
SANXINGDUI: A SPY
AYLFORD: A FIRST DATE?
AYLFORD: THE READING ROOM
AYLFORD: A BREAKTHROUGH
SANXINGDUI: ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS
AYLFORD: BASEMENT DREAMS?
AYLFORD: ANCIENT CHINESE
AYLFORD: CAFETERIA CONFESSIONS #1
AYLFORD: CAFETERIA CONFESSIONS #2
SANXINGDUI: ESCAPE
AYLFORD: COSMIC HARMONY
AYLFORD: AN INVITATION
AYLFORD: ARCHES
SANXINGDUI: EARTHQUAKE
AYLFORD: READING LESSONS
AYLFORD: MOVING UP THE SOCIAL LADDER
AYLFORD: THE PARTY
AYLFORD: THE BASEMENT
SANXINGDUI: THE GOLDEN MASK
AYLFORD: THE MOON
AYLFORD: THE ISLAND
AYLFORD: THE WHITE SHIP
SANXINGDUI: MEETING THE EMPEROR
R’LYEH: THE RUINED CITY
R’LYEH: THE ABYSS
R’LYEH: THE GOLDEN MASK
AYLFORD: BACK HOME
AUTHOR’S NOTE
AN EXCERPT FROM “THE THIRD ACT”
CHAPTER ONE
A WARNING: DO NOT VOYAGE FAR!
Dear reader—whoever you are, wherever you are, whenever you are—it is my intention to fill the pages that follow with two tales so curious and singular that they will encourage you to believe in magic and monsters, lost cities and vanished worlds, and realities so fantastical they cannot be imagined in your wildest dreams. One tale happened thousands of years ago and is still happening now. The other happened now and is still happening thousands of years ago. Both will happen thousands of years from now. Time is not what you think it is.
These events I will describe occur in the world you surround yourself with every day and the worlds you visit in your most incredible fantasies. They involve people so like you and creatures so different that you will shiver just to think of them.
But beware, for it is also a tale of beings that were ancient before your world was born. A tale of monsters who are dead and yet dream, who are so powerful that humans are insignificant, and who are so frighteningly alien that simply to think of them can push a mind to the edges of sanity. As the great master of the macabre, H.P. Lovecraft, once said, “We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.”
Is all that follows true? I cannot help you there. You must decide. But one thing is certain—it all began long ago in a place called Sanxingdui…
SANXINGDUI
THE EMPEROR’S TEA
Kun Zhuang—emperor of Sanxingdui, the City of Masks, and all the surrounding lands that can be reached on a galloping horse in five days, lord of all creatures from the largest elephant in the royal menagerie to the tiniest mite in the straw bed of the poorest peasant, and keeper of the Golden Mask—sniffed.
A young servant boy, dressed in a gold-trimmed green uniform with a twisting imperial dragon on the front, scuttled forward from his position behind the emperor and offered him a silk handkerchief. Kun wiped his nose on the richly embroidered sleeve of his dressing gown and waved his arm dismissively.
“Thank you, Chen,” he said, “but I would prefer if you brought Jingshen and me some tea.”
The boy bowed and turned away, but he skidded to a halt when he realized the emperor was still talking.
“And make certain that foul-smelling dog is nowhere near the royal tea urn. Last time you served tea, it smelled as if you had drawn the water straight from the drinking trough in the imperial kennels.”
The boy bowed even more deeply and fled.
“He’s a good boy,” Kun said to the tall, elegant woman seated cross-legged on the other side of the low table. “But his mind is always on either that kitchen girl, Ting, and her pet dog, or on his crazy dream of becoming a wushu master.” He smiled at his guest.
“One day he will do great things,” the woman predicted. Her snow-white hair hung straight over her shoulders, framing a gentle, high-cheekboned face. She returned Kun’s smile with gray eyes that hinted she could read his most intimate thoughts.
“I would like that day to be while he still makes and serves my tea.” The emperor’s smile faded, and his brow furrowed. He pulled at his beard thoughtfully. “But we have more important things to talk of than tea. Are the auguries true?”
Jingshen nodded slowly. “The signs are all there. The time of danger threatens to unleash the power of the Golden Mask. Sanxingdui is facing doom.”
“But how can that be? How can the City of Masks be in danger? It is the center of the world. It has endured for a thousand years. And are we not protected by the Golden Mask?”
“A thousand years is but a blink of the eye, and the Golden Mask does not simply protect us. It is not good or evil—it is naked power, and power can d
estroy as easily as create. We are safe from the mask’s power only so long as it resides within the Chamber of the Deep.”
“I know. The ancient prophecy clearly states”—the emperor closed his eyes to aid remembrance—“The horrors of darkness may not endure the light while the Golden Mask resides in the Chamber of the Deep.”
“This is true,” Jingshen agreed.
“And you know as well as I,” Kun went on, “that the Chamber of the Deep may be entered and the Golden Mask approached only by one of the three—you, me or Shenxian.”
Jingshen sat silent for a long time, but she had a look of such worry on her face that Kun was scared to ask what troubled her. When she finally spoke, her voice was so quiet that the emperor had to lean forward to catch her words.
“Last night I dreamed that the Min Mountains fell, and that from their ruins arose a terrible demon of unimaginable power,” she said. “The land vanished in great floods and fires, and the world was reduced to dust, ashes and rocks.”
“The time of danger is coming?”
“Yes, and it is very close.”
“Does Shenxian know this?” Kun forced himself to whisper.
“If I dreamed it, then so did Shenxian.”
The emperor rubbed his temples as if to erase the terrifying thoughts running through his brain. “But still,” he said at last, “Shenxian cannot act alone. Two of the three of us must recite the sacred incantation at the same instant to release the Golden Mask from its jade pillar.”
“True, but you don’t know all of the ancient prophecy.” Jingshen clutched her hands together to prevent them from trembling. “ ‘The horrors of darkness may not endure the light while the Golden Mask resides in the Chamber of the Deep. Yet at the time of danger, when the mountains fall in the reign of Skyfire, the courage of life-in-death may unlock the Arch until the return of the Ivory Ark.’ ”
“How can mountains fall?”
“The earth shakes when the gods are angry,” she said simply. “Why not enough that mountains fall?”
Kun shrugged, unconvinced. “Even if that is possible, the sky cannot be on fire and the dead cannot live to be courageous.”
“What happened the year you were born?”
For a moment the emperor was confused, and then he realized what Jingshen was asking.
“A great star fell to earth,” he replied. “Its fall was so bright that it could be seen at noon.”
“Do the chronicles not say that it was as if the sky was ablaze?”
Kun’s voiced dropped. “They do. So the reign of Skyfire is when I am emperor?”
“Yes, and is Shenxian not the high priest who can speak with the dead as if they were standing beside him, alive? And has he not proven his courage in battle many times?”
Kun took a deep breath. “So when the mountains fall during my reign as emperor, Shenxian will be able to put on the Golden Mask without our aid?”
Jingshen nodded.
“But what is the Ivory Ark?”
“That I do not understand. But whatever it is, it is important.”
The pair sat in worried silence as the sun rose and the shadows fled down the walls of the imperial tearoom. It seemed to Kun that they mirrored the darkness that was falling across his reign and the entire future of Sanxingdui. He had almost plucked up enough courage to ask Jingshen what could be done when the silence was shattered by a high-pitched yapping.
Kun leapt to his feet in surprise as a small brown dog shot into the room and tore around in circles. The dog had long hair, a shaggy tail, droopy ears and a squashed face that made it look as if it had run at full speed into a wall. Its pink tongue hung out, flapping wetly from side to side as it ran.
Kun spun around to the doorway, where a young girl, dressed in the same uniform as Chen, stood with her eyes and mouth open wide in horror.
“Ting!” he shouted. “How many times have I told you to keep that foul, smelly beast under control? Dogs are for work—to catch rats, to stand guard and to hunt—not to be pampered, overbred pets for kitchen girls who do not know their place. Remove it from the sacred tearoom immediately! We shall talk about what is to be done with it later.”
Jingshen watched serenely as Ting chased the animal around the room, shouting, “Come here, Fu! Bad dog.” At last she grabbed a leg, drew the protesting creature into her arms and retreated, bowing. As she disappeared out the door, she was replaced by Chen, who was carrying a tray with an ornate teapot and two cups on it. He shuffled across the room, bent forward, his eyes staring only at the mat in front of his feet.
“Chen! Have I not warned you enough about keeping that dog under control?” Kun demanded as he sat back down. “It cannot live in the palace if it disrupts everything.”
Chen looked about to burst into tears as he bowed even lower.
As the boy reached the table, Jingshen said with a smile, “I understand that you have been studying wushu.”
Chen nodded without looking up.
“Does wushu not promote fluid, elegant bodily movements?” she asked.
Chen flicked his eyes up to glance at Jingshen and mumbled, “It does.”
“Then why do you move like an arthritic monkey? Does wushu not say, Do not fight yourself—relax?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Simply move as you can.”
Chen looked up at the emperor, who gave a nod. Slowly the boy unbent until he stood straight. He spun in a circle, raising the tray above his head as he did so. Balancing it on one hand, he performed an ever-faster sequence of complex twists and turns, then placed the tray neatly in the middle of the table. With a mesmerizing series of delicate hand moves, he poured the tea and placed a cup before each of the onlookers.
As Chen backed away, Jingshen said, “That was well done. I don’t believe I’ve seen tea served that way before.”
“I made up the moves myself,” Chen said as he backed away toward the door.
“They’re very graceful,” Jingshen called as the boy disappeared. She turned to Kun. “Don’t be too hard on Chen. To control Fu, he must first control Ting—and I’m not sure even you could do that.”
The emperor grumbled and reached for his tea. “At least he didn’t spill much,” he said.
“He has talent,” Jingshen asserted. “And I think his role in the struggle to come is greater than being the emperor’s teaboy.”
“And Ting? Will she have a role? Chen seems infatuated with her. Around the palace, it is almost impossible to see one without the other.”
“I think she will,” Jingshen said.
“But she is so quiet, like a mouse. Were it not for that annoying dog at her heel, she would be invisible.”
“Remember the old saying: There is greater depth in silence than a million words of senseless babble.”
“That is true,” Kun agreed.
“And,” Jingshen continued, “do not be so ready to dismiss the annoying dog. There is magic in the number three.”
Kun sputtered over his tea. “You cannot be serious. Chen has talent, yes. And Ting may well have hidden depths. But that dog! It’s…it’s…” Words failed him. He could find nothing to describe how he felt about Fu.
Jingshen smiled. “I understand. Fu is not the most lovable of creatures. But there is a story—a story that was ancient even when the first mask was cast in Sanxingdui.”
She sipped her tea and began to tell the story. “When the world was young and newly born out of chaos, there were no people or animals. Heian, the god of darkness, and Guang, the goddess of light, decided to divide the world between them, but they could not agree which creatures to place in it. Heian saw the world as a playground for the gods and wished to populate it with mighty creatures from the beginning of time. Guang saw the earth as a garden where more modest creations could live peacefully.”
“I know this,” Kun said. “It is the tale of creation.”
“But there is more to it for those who will listen,” Jingshen said gent
ly before continuing. “Unable to reconcile their differing ideas, Heian and Guang fought a war that brought chaos back and came close to destroying the world. Guang won, but she was not powerful enough to destroy Heian and his monsters. All she could do was banish his gods to a place of darkness far from the earth and lock them there with the power of the Golden Mask.”
“Yes, yes,” Kun interrupted. “So Guang and Heian made an unbreakable pact that never again would they fight each other and risk destroying the world. Then Guang created the first three—a man, a woman and an animal—and watched as they grew and evolved and populated the world. That is how we came to be living peaceably here.”
“That is all true,” Jingshen agreed. “Everything is peaceful, but what the chronicles do not tell us is that Heian cheated. He created a portal between the earth and the world of his monstrous gods. Normally the portal is closed, but at the time of danger, when the world of monsters comes close to ours, dreams and glimpses of that other world can seep through and disturb the minds of those who can see. At those times, there is a danger of the portal being flung open and the two worlds becoming one. Guang knows this, and so she has kept alive the spirits of her first three creations. In the time of danger, they can fight Heian and—if they win—save the world.”
Kun stared at Jingshen. “Are you telling me that Chen, Ting and that foul dog are all that stands between us and an invasion of monsters that will destroy our world?”
She nodded. “As they have been many times in the past and will be many more times in the future.”
“Jingshen, you are a powerful sorceress. Can you not put on the Golden Mask and defeat Shenxian yourself?”
“Because of the pact between Guang and Heian, I cannot intervene directly. I can only work through human agency. I can help and advise, but that is all. It is the same with Shenxian. If either of us dons the mask, the ancient pact will be shattered, and Heian and Guang will resume their age-old war. That would mean the destruction of not just our world, but of all worlds of creation for all time.”
“Would Shenxian really risk the end of everything by putting on the mask?”