Dragon Kings of the Orient (The Myth Hunter Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Before You Start...

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Continue The Adventure!

  Also by Percival Constantine

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright

  Elisa Hill is a myth hunter, an adventurer who seeks out the truth behind the legends of the past. When a former ally requests her help to defend the mythical Dragon Kings of China, Elisa must journey to the far east. Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, has been released from centuries of imprisonment and only Elisa and her allies can stand against him before he exacts revenge on his jailers. For if the Dragon Kings fall, the oceans of Asia will erupt in chaos, threatening to swallow the continent whole!

  DRAGON KINGS OF THE ORIENT

  A Myth Hunter Adventure By

  Percival Constantine

  For Azusa

  BEFORE YOU START...

  Just go to percivalconstantine.com/subscribe to get your free stories!

  CHAPTER 1

  There were few people who would risk climbing Mount Rushmore alone. Even fewer would do so in the dark. And to perform a free solo climb, without the use of any support equipment in the dead of night is what most would term insanity.

  Elisa Hill might be termed insane by many. To begin with, despite being a respected professor of mythology at the prestigious Burroughs University in Lester City, she spent her off-hours operating as what many in academia might refer to as a “crank.” Elisa spent her time away from the university exploring the legends and mythologies of the world. Stories which any rational person knew were pure fiction.

  A cool wind chased away the heat of the day as she dangled between the monolithic features of Theodore Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln. She ignored the hooks driven into the cliff face for the use of the National Park Service, because a rope climb would take more time than she could afford.

  The night-vision goggles she wore were indispensable on such a climb and the pack fixed to her back was light. She carried only emergency supplies, flashlight and smartphone onto which she had downloaded maps of the area. Affixed to the back of her belt were a pair of scabbards filled with kukri—curved Nepalese daggers. Hanging by her side were a rope and grapple. Normally she preferred to travel with a bit more protection, but she had to travel light on this expedition.

  Elisa’s hands were gloved, the grips on the palm aiding her ascent. As she chimney-climbed up an opening, the anticipation almost made her mouth water. She was on the verge of uncovering a myth long associated with the North American continent, one which Coronado had set out to discover centuries earlier.

  Her night-vision goggles flooded her eyes with a sudden brightness that blinded as she reached for a handhold. She slipped, skidding down the rock, blindly scrambling to catch some projection that might arrest her fall. She stuck out a foot, managing to land some slight leverage on a climbing hook for the National Park Service maintenance team. Her hands found some cracks she could jam her fingers in and maintain her balance. Once she was sure that she could maintain her grip, she removed the goggles. At first she saw nothing but spots swimming before her eyes and she wondered if the sudden flare of light might have permanently damaged her vision, but slowly her eyesight returned and when she looked toward the summit she saw the night sky illuminated by a floodlight.

  She feared that momentarily the spotlight might be shifted to reveal her hanging on the face of the cliff so she shifted her body in order to reach the grapple. Elisa had to act fast to avoid detection, but nothing could prepare her for what came at her next. Looking up at the summit, the light was obscured by a silhouette of a man. The silhouette raised his arms and something he held in them.

  Elisa threw the grapple and it clattered across the bridge of Roosevelt's nose. She carefully reeled the rope tight and breathed a sigh of relief as the grapple latched onto Roosevelt’s mustache. She released her body from its tenuous perch and swung from the rope just as the man opened fire on her with an automatic weapon. The muzzle flash strobed against Roosevelt's features and bullets cast past Elisa. On the apex of her swing, Elisa realized that her rope wasn't long enough to take her to safety. With the black chasm of the steep cliff face yawning below her, Elisa took a horrible chance and released the rope. Her momentum sent her flying to the tip of Roosevelt’s nose. She impacted and made a grab for some sort of hold, but her hands could not beat the force of gravity which pulled her inexorably downward.

  Elisa exhaled in relief when her feet found leverage on Roosevelt's mustache. She drew one of the kukri, jamming it into a crevice between strands of Roosevelt's mustache hair and holding her grip. The gunman changed position on top of the cliff and Elisa drew her second kukri. It was forty feet from the spot where Elisa clung to below Roosevelt's nose and where the gunman took up his new vantage point. Forty feet was a considerable throw on flat land, let alone straight upward—but Elisa rarely let the odds deter her. She threw the kukri at the gunman, striking him in the shoulder just as he was about to open fire again.

  The wound was a surprise and the gunman lost his hold on his rifle. It clattered down the side of the monument, echoing as it fell.

  She rested atop Roosevelt’s mustache and pulled the kukri from the stone. Before she could continue her ascent, the wind began to pick up and Elisa heard the thumping sound of a rotor. Looking over her shoulder, she witnessed a helicopter rising through the gloom, a belly-mounted spotlight sweeping across the craggy faces of the past presidents as it neared her location.

  “Oh you have got to be kidding!” she muttered.

  The helicopter hovered with the side door facing Elisa. It opened and a gunman emerged, taking aim with his rifle. Before Elisa was revealed in the spotlight she knew she had to take decisive action—something unexpected. Something crazy. She clamped the kukri between her teeth and sprang from the monument. She soared over the gap, the jagged slopes yawning beneath her, as the gunman opened fire. Bullets whined past her, narrowly missing her athletic form. Elisa’s hands latched onto the skid and the gunman tried to peer over the edge of the copter to get a good shot off. Elisa switched her orientation so she was facing the monument and swung her legs up with all her might.

  The soles of her boots struck the gunman’s rifle, shoving it back into his chest. She swung again, this time releasing the skid and flying into the copter’s cabin, temporarily pinning the groaning gunman to the ground beneath her legs. She could see his fallen rifle lying on the floor of the helicopter and she reached out to grab it—the kukri still between her teeth.

  Her intention was to turn the rifle on the pilot before the gunman beneath her legs could recover from the stunning blow she had dealt him, but her attention had been so focused on that gunman that she had failed to realize there were actually a total of three men in the chopper.

  The second passenger pushed a Beretta against her head and she heard the click of the bullet loading into the chamber as he pulled back the slide. This passenger's face was deadly serious beneath his closely-cropped brown hair and thin beard. “Drop the rifle. And the knife.”

  Elisa opened her mouth, the kukri fallin
g from her teeth and clattering on the floor. Then she uncurled her fingers from around the stock of the rifle and let it drop. She raised her arms in surrender. The gunman relaxed a little. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. I’d heard stories about how good you were but they’re not as impressive as seeing you in action.”

  “You know me?”

  The man chuckled and relaxed the Beretta. “You’d be hard-pressed to find a myth hunter who doesn’t know about you, Ms. Hill. Not to mention your family.”

  “Who are you?” asked Elisa.

  “My name is Jason Shroud,” he said.

  “I’ve never heard of a myth hunter by that name.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have,” said Shroud. “My organization goes to great lengths to keep our activities a secret.”

  “What organization?”

  “If you’re willing to remain civil, I can put this gun away and explain everything to you once we land. Deal?”

  Elisa nodded and Shroud smiled as he clicked the safety on the Beretta. “That’s better.” He turned to the pilot. “Take us home.”

  The pilot nodded. “Yessir.”

  The helicopter banked and flew around Washington’s head. Part of the mountain ridge seemed to flicker as they approached. Elisa watched as that small portion of the mountain suddenly vanished, revealing an entrance carved into the mountain.

  The skids touched down in a hangar bay within the entrance. Shroud motioned to Elisa. “Leave the knife and gun. You won’t need them.”

  He climbed out of the chopper first. Elisa was tempted to pick up at least her kukri but given the number of armed men she saw in the hangar, she felt it better not to tempt fate. Her eyes glanced around the hangar area and found a few other helicopters housed within the gleaming walls. They were sleek and black with no identifying marks on them. The soldiers in the hangar also wore all black uniforms. Again, no markings whatsoever.

  “A military base inside Mount Rushmore?” she asked.

  Shroud smiled. “Welcome to a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream, Ms. Hill.”

  An automatic door slid open and Shroud led Elisa down a series of corridors. He took several twists and turns along the way and each hall looked identical to the last. Elisa assumed this was done intentionally so that any visitors who came to this facility would be unable to remember the layout with any sort of clarity.

  The corridors were essentially tunnels in the mountain, with metal walkways laid on the ground and rows of lights embedded into the rock. Still, those lights were bright enough to illuminate the corridors quite clearly.

  They finally came to another closed door and Shroud opened it by punching a code into a keypad. It wasn’t a traditional keypad, however. The buttons were labeled, but with symbols Elisa couldn’t decipher at first glance.

  The door opened and inside was a decent-sized office with a desk, a large chair behind it, and a smaller chair in front. On the wall behind the desk, a symbol was carved into the rock. The symbol was a square ruler positioned as a V with a compass centered over it in a pointed arch.

  “This is a joke, right?” asked Elisa.

  Shroud walked past her and sat behind the desk. “I take it you recognize the symbol?”

  “Who wouldn’t?” she asked. “I wasn’t aware the Freemasons were myth hunters.”

  “Not completely,” said Shroud. He gestured to the chair in front of the desk and Elisa sat. “But it’s definitely part of our interests. Although we do like to keep it secret.”

  “And why did you bring me here instead of killing me or turning me over to the NPS?” asked Elisa.

  “As a rule, we should have. And had you come to this place on your own, that’s probably what we would have done,” said Shroud.

  Elisa scoffed. “You make it sound like you knew I was coming.”

  Shroud smiled even wider.

  “Oh bull,” said Elisa. “How did you know?”

  “The Zuni.”

  “Why would the Zuni tell the Masons anything?” asked Elisa.

  “Because we intentionally fed them the wrong information,” said Shroud. “Planted evidence that pointed you to Rushmore as the site of the Seven Cities of Cibola. I felt it was time to have a face-to-face with you.”

  Elisa fidgeted in her seat. Shroud seemed to know an awful lot about her and she wasn’t the least bit comfortable with that.

  “We’ve been following your exploits with great interest, Elisa.”

  “But why?”

  “Because you were well-trained by Finch and your parents,” said Shroud. “And when you started off hunting for the Order, we were suspicious. We had to keep an eye on you. Luckily, you came around to your parents’ way of thinking.”

  “Are you telling me you knew my parents?” asked Elisa.

  Shroud shook his head. “They weren’t Masons if that’s what you’re asking. On occasion, our interests aligned and we’d contract them out for jobs—just as we do with other myth hunters from time to time. And your recent investigation of Lemuria definitely caught our interest.”

  Shroud leaned forward, his eyes filled with excitement like a kid at Christmas. “So tell me, did you find it?”

  She folded her arms and frowned. “Your men shot at me. Almost got me killed. And you put a gun to my head. All as some form of test. And now you want me to sit and chat with you?”

  Shroud sat back in his chair. “You’re right, probably wasn’t the best way to go about things. But I had to know if you were as good as your reputation.”

  “You know my reputation, then I’m sure you also know how I feel about men who try to kill me.”

  “I do. That Seth character’s disappeared ever since he was last spotted in Japan. Your doing?”

  “Figure it out, you seem to know so much already.”

  “I’ll draw my own conclusions. And for the record? My men were using blanks. You were never in any danger from their weapons.”

  Elisa almost jumped from her seat at that revelation, but restrained herself. “You mean to tell me that I risked my life jumping around Roosevelt’s face just because you wanted to test me?”

  Shroud sighed and stood. He turned and faced the Masonic emblem. “Do you know the history of Freemasonry?”

  “For the most part. Began in the late sixteenth century in Scotland, right?”

  Shroud turned his face to Elisa. “Actually, the order was founded by the very same men who built the Temple of Solomon.”

  “I thought that was just an allegorical myth.”

  “No, it’s true. Throughout the ages, we’ve adapted and been called by different names, including the Knights Templar and the Illuminati. And there are lots of legends about us—how we’re plotting to control the world, how we manipulate world events for our own means, all sorts of nonsense.”

  “So what are you, then?” asked Elisa.

  “We’re like you—seekers of knowledge,” said Shroud. “Solomon was known for his quest for knowledge and we’re no different. And that’s why I arranged this meeting—because I want to know just what you discovered about Lemuria.”

  “Then I’m sorry, but you wasted your time and mine,” said Elisa, standing from her seat. “If you came to me directly, I might be willing to talk to you. But after you pulled this cloak and dagger shit, I’ve had my fill of you, Shroud.”

  Shroud sighed and approached her. “I want you to think carefully about this, Elisa. Our resources could be a great help to you.”

  “You’re right, they could,” said Elisa. “But I’ve just about had my fill of secret societies. So until you’re willing to tell me what you’re all about, I want nothing to do with you.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” said Shroud. “Of course, your position is understandable.”

  Shroud came up to her and handed her a card. On it was a simple phone number. “If you change your mind, just call this number.”

  “You’re giving an outsider your cell?” asked Elisa. “Seems a little strange to me.”

&n
bsp; “Actually, it’s a cloned number, but after rerouting your call several times, you’ll eventually get to me,” said Shroud. “I hope in the future we can find a way to trust each other.”

  “We’ll see about that,” said Elisa.

  CHAPTER 2

  Designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO, the Huangshan mountain range in southern Anhui province draws annual visits from millions of tourists from all over the world. One of China’s most famous tourist destinations, it features peaks reaching over a thousand meters.

  One of those tourists was a young boy, watching the Tibetan macaques native to this area from the gathered crowd. The park restricted the monkeys’ movements, confining them to a small park. And in view of the tourists, they frequently competed for food tossed by the visitors.

  The boy ignored the macaques who hooped and hollered, knocking each other over, and battling with each other for the attention of the tourists. Instead, he focused on one who sat off to the side. This macaque was older than the others and he appeared extremely tired, even somewhat despondent.

  The boy apparently had no guardian with him, as no one noticed when he wandered to get a better view of this monkey. The animal slowly looked up at him with golden eyes that were unique among any species of monkey or man. The boy smiled and the macaque’s lips curved upwards as well. There was a flash of recognition in the monkey’s eyes.

  “I finally found you,” said the boy in an ancient dialect of Mandarin Chinese which modern speakers would have difficulty understanding. “How long have you been trapped here?”

  The monkey raised his finger and moved it around in the air several times in a specific pattern. The boy’s eyes followed the finger trails, reading the invisible characters the monkey drew in the air. He nodded in understanding.

  “Centuries have passed,” said the boy. “The Dragon Kings still hold their rule. Your time has come again.”