by Dave Stern
She looked up just in time to see Chen Lo successfully do what she’d failed to—grab a spear out of midair.
In one smooth, fluid motion, he charged, jabbing and thrusting the spear at her. Lara backpedaled furiously, evading his attack as best she could. Twice the spear point came uncomfortably close to connecting, and Lara stumbled, almost falling the second time.
Which would be the end for her, she realized. With her hands still bound, she’d have no way to move with any sort of speed or precision once her legs were out from under her. She couldn’t let that happen.
She had to get herself loose, and fast.
Of course she also had to stay alive and Chen Lo was making that difficult. He attacked relentlessly, always moving forward, chasing her now around one row of statues and then down another. Lara slammed backward into one of the warriors and grimaced as its outstretched hands dug into her back.
She slid between that warrior and the one next to it.
Chen Lo followed with a grin and a quick glance over her shoulder told Lara why.
She had backed herself into a corner. There was only five feet of floor left between her and the wall, and that space was disappearing fast as Chen Lo closed in, spear jabbing toward her like an angry, spitting cobra. The blade flashed once, twice, in the dim cavern light.
And suddenly, Lara had an idea.
She turned and faced Chen Lo straight on, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Death wish, Lady Croft?” he asked, twirling the spear in the air once, twice—like a baton. The man wasn’t even breathing hard, she noted with admiration. Which was fine with her.
Neither was she.
“On the contrary.” Lara rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. She could feel the wall behind her, scant inches away now. “Bring it.”
Chen Lo obliged.
With one quick, lightning-fast stroke, he closed the distance between them and thrust the spear forward—a death blow aimed straight for her gut.
The man’s speed was incredible.
Lara, though, was faster.
Even as he was moving, Lara whirled, turning her back to Chen Lo. She brought one leg over the oncoming spear, straddling it and the blade, which struck the wall behind her with a resounding crack.
Lara tensed her hands, stretching the rope between them, and chopped down on the blade.
The rope snapped with a loud thwack—one final emphatic burst of strength, and Lara’s hands were free.
She raised her leg, spinning back the way she came, slam-kicking Chen Lo square in the chest as she did so—a solid shot that she felt in the bones all the way up her leg.
Then, back in her original position, back to the wall, she turned to face Chen Lo.
Only he wasn’t there.
Lara had barely a split second to brace herself when Chen Lo’s roundhouse kick caught her square in the face. She staggered and almost fell.
“Oh,” Chen Lo said, bending to pick up his spear. “This is going to be fun.”
Lara didn’t necessarily think so.
Momentarily dazed, her ears still ringing, she slipped back behind a row of statues, seeking out the cover of darkness and a chance to recover.
This could be trouble, Terry thought.
He was surrounded by Shay Ling—four of them, arrayed in a circle. Terry didn’t know any of them from the old days, but the way they stood…well. It would be a fight, that was for certain. It went without saying that Chen Lo trained all his people well. Each would know how to deliver the maximum possible pain with every blow.
And the four didn’t even include Lu Yao, who was fifty feet away, talking to Xien. No doubt receiving the go-ahead to make Terry’s pain as intense and lingering as possible.
And there, Terry thought, was the problem in a nutshell. Lingering.
Croft had said three minutes, but Terry knew she’d need at least five. Especially if it came to a fight between her and Chen Lo—which he suspected it would. No matter what MI6 had told Croft to do, he couldn’t see her cutting deals with the Shay Ling. And there was something else there, too, something personal between her and Chen Lo.
Terry wondered what that something was, but that was all he could do, wonder, because Croft hadn’t seen fit to tell him anything at all so far. Not about her dealings with Chen Lo, or this mysterious thing she and MI6 were after—hell, he was totally in the dark. Which—to tell the truth-—pissed him off a little bit.
As did Croft’s stonewalling him on the walk here, refusing to talk to him not just about the present but the past—their past—as well.
Terry was tired of it. He wanted to know what Croft and MI6 were up to, what Jonathan Reiss had to do with it, and what the cause of the bad blood between Croft and Chen Lo was. Thing was, he needed some kind of leverage, something that would force people to talk to him, divulge some answers.
Watching Xien head back toward the cave entrance, accompanied by a half dozen Shay Ling and a wooden crate roughly the size of a large milk carton, he suspected he might have that leverage.
Terry caught Lu Yao’s eye as the big man approached.
“Where’s Xien taking that crate?”
Lu Yao ignored him. With a nod and a few quick words in Mandarin, he dismissed two of the men from the circle and took their place.
Then the giant gave another almost imperceptible nod to the two remaining men in the circle, and all three began to move with slow, deceptively languid movements that had Terry instantly on his guard.
He braced himself for their attack.
“Listen to me,” he said, turning as he spoke to keep Lu Yao directly in front of him. “While you’re out here doing Chen Lo’s fighting—he’s making a deal worth twice as much as he’s told you. Tell me where that crate is going and I’ll give you each a full share—”
“Shanghai,” Lu Yao said abruptly. “It’s going to Shanghai. But don’t worry, you’ll be joining it. In a crate all your own.”
He nodded to his left, where Terry saw two Shay Ling lifting another one of those gray statues into a coffin. Next to them, there was an empty coffin.
“Just your size, Sheridan,” Lu Yao said.
“Don’t go to the trouble of a formal burial on my account,” Terry told him. “I’d prefer to be cremated.”
Lu Yao launched a side kick. Terry made no attempt to dodge it.
The big man’s boot caught him square in the side, slamming into his ribs with an ungodly force.
Terry dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Before he could get up, Lu kicked him again. Terry flew backward, rolling five feet on the ground from the force of the blow. He tasted blood in his mouth and climbed onto his hands and knees.
He glanced at the watch the old woman from the farmhouse had given him and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Lara had only been gone a minute or so.
He had to linger here for a little while yet.
Lu Yao drew closer, and Terry braced himself for another attack.
Come on Croft, he urged silently, as the giant loomed over him.
Ten
Head no longer spinning, Lara stalked silently through the vast cavern of terracotta warriors, her eyes darting in all directions, searching for Chen Lo.
She had thought his claim that there were thousands of statues an exaggeration, but now, after a few minutes of traversing through row after row of the unmoving warriors, she decided he’d spoken the truth. Which made this chamber a discovery on the order of the Longmen grottoes—the fabled treasure trove of the Qin emperors Chen Lo had spoken of earlier. She had no doubt there were experts around the world who would give their eye teeth to be where she was right now.
She’d have to appreciate the scenery later though. Right now she was more concerned with staying alive.
Lara paused a moment, sensing something.
Shadows flickered uneasily all about her—she looked up to see one of the strands of lightbulbs above swinging gently f
rom side to side, as if stirred by a breeze.
She doubted very much, though, that the wind had moved them. Which meant only one thing: Chen Lo was close.
Lara pressed back tight against the statue behind her. She needed a weapon of her own—to face Chen Lo unarmed was like suicide. If she could—
The head of the warrior in front of her exploded.
Lara caught a glimpse of Chen Lo’s face, grim, unsmiling, determined—and spun away to her left. Metal flashed—and the warrior on her right collapsed, suddenly carved into two.
Wonderful, Lara thought. Chen Lo has a sword.
She spun again and slammed backward into another statue, almost knocking it over. It wobbled, then unexpectedly steadied itself.
Move, a little voice inside her head told her.
Lara dove forward, just as a spear point burst through the stone, impaling the terracotta warrior and the air where she had just stood.
She did a forward roll and sprang up on her feet, ready to confront Chen Lo.
But the cavern was silent and still.
Lara drew a breath and slid forward. She moved behind one statue and then a second, her eyes scanning the cavern. Nothing. No one.
She listened a moment, then took a hesitant step out from the shadows. The warriors facing her held their swords (stone, unfortunately)—at the ready, prepared to attack.
Lara flashed suddenly on a memory from the none-too-distant past—of stone soldiers coming to life and trying to kill her. Their weapons had been rock, as well—but effective enough, if used correctly. She looked up at the statue before her, wondered about trying to remove its sword for her own use.
Angered, the statue lunged at her.
At least, that was her first surprised thought. Lara was so shocked to see the stone warrior move, all she could do was fall backward. She landed hard on the ground and looked up to see the statue falling straight toward her.
She rolled to the side, and its sword missed her by an inch.
A second warrior came crashing down toward her.
She rolled away from that one, too, and scrambled to her feet.
Chen Lo stood in the space left by the two terracotta warriors, sword in hand, smiling at her.
He’d pushed the statues, she realized. No stone-comingto-life miracles happening here.
He took a step forward and Lara ran.
Blindly, at first, as fast as she could, hearing his footsteps behind her. Sliding between the statues, running at top speed through row after row of indistinguishable terracotta figures—
Then she burst into an open area, and all at once, recognized her surroundings. There was the entranceway to the cavern, ahead to her left. And directly before her—
Spears—from the rack Chen Lo had overturned—lay scattered on the ground.
He was a foot behind as she grabbed one up and—using it like a pole vault—leapt up onto the shoulder, and then the head, of the warrior nearest her. Then, using the terracotta figures as stepping-stones, she began to run again.
Chen Lo cursed as he came after her, chopping furiously, smashing statues out from under her even as she stepped on them. His relentless assault made it impossible for her to consider turning to fight—he would have gutted her had she tried it.
Lara stumbled, and almost fell. She literally felt the whoosh of Chen Lo’s sword as he came within millimeters of cutting her off at the ankle.
She put on a renewed burst of speed. So did Chen Lo. He was going to catch her, unless she could think of something. And then…
Suspended from the ceiling directly ahead of her, Lara saw a string of lights.
She raised her spear, and as she ran by the lights, swung her weapon like a bat. The bulbs shattered—a shower of tiny glass shards filled the air. She heard Chen Lo slow behind her, and curse.
Lara vaulted down from atop the statues and ran for the darkness.
He was standing in the middle of the Shay Ling fighters—three of them now, Lu Yao and two of the newcomers. Circling him, cocky smiles on their faces. A crowd had gathered to watch—Terry supposed that even if most of them hadn’t been around when he was running with Chen Lo and Xien, they’d heard about his betrayal and wanted to see him get his comeuppance. Fine.
He was remembering faces. Making mental notes of who was saying what, and how often. They’d get theirs.
As soon as Croft got back here, that is.
Someone kicked him in the ribs and Terry snapped back to the here and now.
One of the Shay Ling fighters landed an uppercut to Terry’s jaw. The other moved in, and dealt a combination kick and punch to his chest. Terry shot backward like he’d been kicked by a mule.
But he didn’t fall.
He moved back to the center of the ring and glared at Lu Yao.
“You and I both know I could kill you right now,” Terry said.
The giant responded by spinning into a massive roundhouse kick that connected square to Terry’s temple.
“Why don’t you fight back?” Lu Yao asked.
“I’m waiting,” Terry said.
Lu Yao smiled, bobbing.
“Don’t wait too long.”
Amen to that, Terry thought, bracing himself for another blow.
Lara didn’t know where the bamboo ladder led to, but the second she spotted it leaning against the wall at the far end of the cave she ran for it anyway. Anyplace, she decided, had to be better than here.
She ran full out now, no more trying to pad quietly through the cavern. That was Chen Lo’s game—hers was to seek another battleground, and a weapon of her own.
She sprinted the last twenty feet between her and the ladder full out, and sprang for it. Grabbed the ladder, started climbing—
A sword appeared from nowhere, slicing the horizontal rungs in half.
The ladder split. Lara grabbed on to one of the poles with both hands. She slid down it like a fireman, reached the ground, and turned.
Chen Lo had two swords now. He flipped one head over heels in the air, caught it. Did the same with the second.
Then, wielding his weapons like machetes, he advanced.
Lara considered the bamboo pole still in her hand. Not unlike the kenzai staves she and Hillary had been training with.
Lara changed her grip on the bamboo, held it with her hands a few feet apart before her, and moved forward to parry Chen Lo’s attack.
He sliced down with his sword and split her weapon in two.
Lara dodged by him and shifted her grip. She turned to face him again, holding both halves of bamboo together, in front of her.
Another flash of metal and she had four sticks of bamboo.
So much for training with Hillary, Lara thought.
She tossed the sticks at Chen Lo. As he knocked them to the ground, she spun and did a series of back flips across the cavern floor. She landed in a crouch and picked up the spear she’d seen lying there. Just in time.
Chen Lo was on her again.
Lara had to give ground as he slashed, backing her down a row of terracotta warriors. This spear was no better than the bamboo pole had been—bits of wood flew into the air as Chen Lo pressed his attack, slicing the weapon in her hands into smaller and smaller pieces.
She almost tripped over another spear and picked it up. Chen Lo’s pace never faltered—he attacked like a man possessed. Lara tried to put a statue between the two of them and he pulverized it with a single blow from the sword in his right hand.
With the sword in his left, he split the spear in her hands. The force of the blow made her arms shiver.
Lara found herself holding a single stick barely as long as her forearm.
Chen Lo raised both blades again. Smiling, he moved in for the kill.
Lara cocked her arm back and threw what remained of her spear at him.
It flew like a javelin—not entirely straight, the stick had broken too jaggedly to fly true—but close enough. It caught one sleeve of Chen Lo’s shirt and pierced it, pinning him to th
e terracotta warrior directly behind him.
Chen Lo screamed in rage and ripped the shirt free. She must have grazed his skin—blood stained the shirt where it had ripped.
No more measured moves for Chen Lo—he charged wildly now, both blades swinging. Lara backed away as fast as she could, trying to keep from stumbling over her own feet, thinking that she usually preferred an angry opponent, rage made most people careless, but it only seemed to be making Chen Lo faster.
She bumped into something. A glance sideways showed her a wooden crate—she remembered seeing a stack of them off to the side when she’d first entered the cavern.
Chen Lo swung again and Lara spun to the side. He missed by not inches, but millimeters—the wind from the blade blew a lock of hair free from her cheek, where sweat had plastered it down.
The blade smashed past her and broke through the top of the crate, revealing its contents. Lara saw metal inside, and even before she consciously realized what she was looking at, her hands were darting into the crate and grabbing a rifle and she jumped to the side and aimed the weapon—an old 303, complete with bayonet at the end—right at Chen Lo.
Fear darted across his face.
Lara squeezed the trigger.
Click. She looked at the rifle more closely. No clip. No bullets.
Chen Lo roared and came at her with both swords again—she barely got the rifle up in time to parry his attack. Faster than ever he came, swinging one sword, then the next, and Lara’s arms rang with the force of each blow.
But even though the 303 wasn’t loaded, it was the best weapon she’d had yet in the fight. Unlike the spears or the ladder pole, the metal withstood Chen Lo’s attack without shattering. And now, at long last, Lara had a second to breathe, to study Chen Lo’s rhythm as he fought, the pattern of his attack, and she could see that there was no subtlety to his charge, anger had gotten the best of him, and Lara waited and watched, and then—
She saw an opening.
As Chen Lo brought the blade in his right hand down on the rifle, as the one in his left hung at his side for a nanosecond before he raised it again, Lara stepped forward and thrust up with the rifle.
