The Strange Case of the Disappearing Dragon by Ben Stevens

Author:Ben Stevens
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Mystery, Detectives, Mysteries & Detectives, Historical, Thriller & Suspense
Publisher: Nanbanjin
Published: 2015-02-07T11:00:00+00:00

4

The priest had said that one man could ‘comfortably’ climb inside the statue. Now both my master and I were crammed inside, with barely room to move. We crouched, the struts of the statue’s internal wooden frame jabbing uncomfortably into our sides. We had a small lamp, for otherwise we should have been sat in pitch-darkness. We had the key for the closed and locked hatch beneath our feet, so we were not imprisoned, but I knew this confinement must be agony for my master, given his hatred of enclosed spaces. (Something previously mentioned in such cases as The Cursed Temple and The Empress and the Monk.)

‘As soon as we hear any noise outside, Kukai, we must extinguish the lamp,’ whispered my master. ‘There are a number of small gaps in the exterior of this statue – the reason we can breathe inside here, although the air remains somewhat stuffy – and so any light may be seen.’

‘The priest seemed to consider us mad, master, once you told him how we wished to hide inside here,’ I declared.

‘He took out the gold and silks that have been stored inside here, as ‘offerings’, for approximately one hundred years, anyway – so he’ll have some compensation if he never sees this statue or the other one again,’ returned my master. ‘It’s as well I told him to ensure that he and the other monks remain well inside the temple, just in case there should be any –

‘But hush! Extinguish that lamp!’

So finished my master urgently, as at once I heard the slightest patter of footsteps upon the tiles of the roof outside. In immediate, pitch darkness, I strained to hear other noises. The slither of what I thought might be a rope being dragged towards the statue… Whispering between several men… A slight, metallic sound like bolts being turned…

Then the hoarse croak –

‘Get back up here.’

The voice chilled me. Was this the same voice Takayama had believed belonged to the dragon? In this darkness, scarcely able to move, virtually imprisoned and defenseless save for one of those single-shot flintlock pistols I now had on my person (my master had the other), it seemed a lot less easier to scoff at such a fanciful tale.

Suddenly I could not help but gasp, although immediately my master’s hand moved to cover my mouth.

‘The dragon begins to fly,’ he murmured in my ear. ‘But, rest assured, I believe he will not fly for too long – just as far as those mountains we saw earlier today…’

I felt us rising up and up… Was I going mad? What force had caused this gold statue to rise up into the air, after its bolts had undoubtedly been removed by whoever had managed to get up onto the temple roof?

How long we traveled through the air for, I cannot say. I don’t think it was more than twenty minutes, though it felt like hours. Then, all of a sudden, the base of the dragon statue hit what I assumed was the ground with a hard jolt.

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