The Dragon Pool: The Dragon Pool

The author would like to thank editor Jennifer Heddle and deal maker Scott Shannon for thowing the party, Tom Sniegoski, Tim Lebbon, and Brian Hodge for making it a blast, and especially Mike Mignola for bringing the dancing girls. Special thanks are also due to Jason Hall for the history lesson, and LeeAnne Sniegoski for her eagle eye.

1991

T
he surface of Lake Tashi rippled with the cool breeze that swept down from the snowcapped mountains of the Nyenchen Tanghla range. Anastasia Bransfield gazed out across sapphire water that gleamed in golden sunlight, and knew that she stood at the edge of the world, at a place where gods and legends seemed not so very far away and never forgotten.

At forty-two, she had spent half her life as an archaeologist, preeminent in her field, and her work had taken her to some of the most remote and exotic locations in the world--not to mention some of the most dangerous. Yet never had she visited a place more beautiful than this Tibetan mountain range. Lake Tashi stretched across a plateau fifteen thousand feet above sea level. The air carried the chill from the mountains, yet it was clean and crisp and made her feel more alive than she had ever felt before.

On the hillside above the lake, gusts of wind swirled small clouds of dirt up and away, as her team excavated an ancient village where a mountain king was rumored to have lived. The British Museum had launched this dig as a joint venture with the Archaeological Council of Tibet. The region was controlled by the Chinese government, which was usually resistant to the idea of digging up the past, particularly sites that might be considered holy--but Anastasia had received the blessing of both parties to lead the expedition. Her reputation had won over the Chinese, something the museum people had counted on when they hired her.

She stood at the base of the hill, taking her first official break of the day. The excavation had been going quite well thus far. They had exposed one structure that appeared to be a fairly large, communal building that would be quite uncharacteristic for a mountain village thousands of years old--unless it was a palace. It seemed they had found preliminary evidence that the theories behind the expedition were sound.

Anastasia cared not at all.

Only a few members of her team knew it, but she hadn't come up here looking for the palace of any mountain king. Or, more accurately, it wasn't all she'd come for. If her own research held up, there was a reason none of the legends and stories about the village ever gave the same name for the king, or his people. There was a reason the breathtaking landscape around Lake Tashi was inhabited only by nomadic herders. And although there was a small village not far to the northwest, and a monastery on a mountainside to the east, there was a reason that no one had ever settled on the hills above the lake or on its shores.

There were secrets here. And there were those who did not want the dig to continue for fear of those secrets being unearthed. In the fifteen weeks since they had begun, equipment had been sabotaged or stolen, excavation sites had caved in even though she herself had seen to their safety and stability, and strange figures had been spotted sneaking around the encampment after dark. Her top engineer, Frank Danovich, had admitted to her that he'd gotten a quick glimpse of an intruder by flashlight on the night of a cave-in, and said the bastard was so ugly he was monstrous.

Anastasia had asked him to elaborate, but Danovich had just knocked back a shot of rum and turned away. She hadn't prodded him further. Anastasia had dealt with her share of monsters. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, she'd even been in love with one once upon a time.

"What's your secret?" she whispered, gazing out across the brilliant blue water of Lake Tashi. The wind whistled down off the mountains, but carried no answer.

Yet she had her suspicions.

"Dr. Bransfield!" a voice called from behind her.

She turned and squinted. With the angle of the sun coming over the hill, even the brim of her New York Yankees cap was not enough to keep the glare from her eyes. She held up a hand to shade her face, and at last she could make out the figure hurrying down the rough path they had worn up the hillside to the dig site. Rafe Mattei was a twenty-two-year-old archaeology student, one of a group that was having its first real field exposure on this expedition. For a kid--at forty-two, she figured she'd earned the right to call him that--Rafe was a handsome man, tall and thin, with rich chocolate eyes.

Anastasia tried not to think about him that way. It helped that he called her Dr. Bransfield; it reminded her that she herself wasn't a kid anymore.

"Dr. Bransfield!" he called again.

Rafe nearly tripped as he reached the bottom of the hill. His eyes were wide with excitement, and he was flushed from having run all the way down to fetch her.

"What've we got, Rafe?" she asked, striding past him and starting up the hill along the same path he had descended.

He fell into step beside her without complaint. "Professor Kyichu sent me to bring you back. We found it, Dr. Bransfield. The temple."

Anastasia stopped and turned to him. Rafe searched her eyes, enthusiastic but still not quite sure what the significance of it all was. How could he be? None of the students knew what she was really looking for--but Kyichu did. A Tibetan who'd been living and teaching in London for years, Kyichu was the one who had convinced the Chinese government to cooperate. The widower had even brought his eleven-year-old daughter, Kora, along as an unofficial member of the team. Anastasia had shared with him her true goal, but only after he had begun to guess at her purpose. He thought her a dreamer, thought she put too much stock in legends, but Anastasia had insisted that every legend grew from a seed of truth, and that was what she sought on the shore of Lake Tashi.

"Is it part of the palace?" she asked.

Rafe shook his head. "Just next to it. All they've excavated so far is the door. There's writing on it, though. A lot of writing."

Anastasia laughed softly. She took off her Yankees cap and shook out her long, strawberry blond hair, feeling strangely freed by this news. With a grin she grabbed Rafe's head in both hands, pulled him forward, and kissed his forehead.

"That's the best news I've had in a year."

Shaking her head at her own caprice, she hurried up the hill, baseball cap crushed in her grip. In truth, until she knew what was written on that door, this discovery could be either good news, or a frustrating disappointment. But at least she would have the beginnings of the answers she sought.

Together they hurried up the hillside. Though she was in excellent physical condition, by the time they reached the excavation site, Anastasia was huffing and had to stop to catch her breath. She told herself it was the elevation and was pleased to see that Rafe seemed equally winded. Dust from the dig swirled away in the chill mountain breeze, but she tugged on the neck of her thick sweater, overheated from the climb.

Students and other archaeologists on the team hovered around her as she made a beeline for the place Rafe indicated. They barraged her with questions, but she ignored them, her focus entirely on the opening in the hillside ahead. Equipment had been pulled back, and diggers stood around, waiting for instructions.

On the edge of the newly excavated hole, she fell to her knees. The hole sloped down at a forty-five-degree angle. The ladders had been laid down more as steps than to be used for climbing. Professor Kyichu stood in front of a stone door with one of the students. Etched in the door were lines of characters from the ancient language of this land.

"Han," Anastasia said.

He turned and smiled up at her. "That was fast."

"What does it say?"

Professor Kyichu nodded, his expression turning solemn. "You were right, Dr. Bransfield. I am sorry for doubting it. We have found the legend that we sought.

"We have found the Dragon King Pool."

On her knees, there in the dirt, Yankees cap still clutched in her hand, Anastasia could only grin. She shook her head in amazement. Moments like this--they made all of the tedium worthwhile.

"Have you translated the--" she began.

A shout interrupted her, a voice calling her name. Hers and Han Kyichu's.

Anastasia turned, half-rising, to see Ellie Morris running toward her. Others gave way as Ellie raced to the edge of the hole, panic in her eyes, chest heaving with exertion.

"Ellie, what is it, love?"

Anastasia reached for her, but the woman threw her hands up, shaking her head. Her eyes were damp with nascent tears.

"Professor," Ellie said, staring down into the hole, not even noticing the remarkable temple door they had discovered. "Han...I'm sorry, we've searched everywhere, but..."

The woman bit her lip, a tear tracing through the dirt on her face. She clapped a hand over her mouth, and now the tears fell in earnest.

"Please, Eleanor," Professor Kyichu said, "what has happened?"

Ellie hugged herself, glanced at Anastasia, then back at Han Kyichu. "It's your daughter, Professor. It's Kora. We can't find her anywhere.

"She's gone."