KHITAI CHRONICLES VOLUME 1 by Hank Woon
“This place smells of wet dog,” Bik-Bik complained bitterly into Ping’s ear. The thief did his best to ignore him, focusing instead on the thin, silk rope he was steadily climbing down. “Do you hear me?” Bik-Bik went on, “What treasure could possibly be worth suffering this intolerable stench?”
“Would you be quiet?” Ping hissed, “Or are you trying to get his attention?” He paused, sliding down the length of the rope another yard. “You don’t smell so great half the time yourself, you know.”
Bik-Bik bristled. The small Khitain ferret shifted on his shoulder before saying, “Would you hurry up? This is the longest anyone has ever taken to climb down a rope.”
“Your constant whining isn’t helping!”
“Oh don’t try to blame me!” Bik-Bik shifted again.
“Would you sit still?” said Ping, irritably. It wasn’t unusual for Bik-Bik to complain, though he normally didn’t do so while they were trying to be quiet. He sensed that his ferret companion was trying to cover up his fear with irritability. He couldn’t blame him; he looked down the shaft to the dim light far below, perhaps another thirty feet. The shaft was maybe four feet in diameter, the granite worn smooth. It was one of the many vents leading down into the lair of the giant-king Du Shu.
He had received the knowledge of the vents’ locations from a trader in the city of Shong-Xai about a month back. The trader, a one-eyed dwarf, was standing on the side of the dirt road in the middle of the city, loudly proclaiming he had a map showing a secret way into the lair of Du Shu, where “priceless treasures are just waiting to be claimed by someone bold enough to retrieve them!”
Intrigued, Ping deftly lifted the map from the clueless dwarf and headed to the nearest inn, where he gave it some serious attention. The map showed a location marked high in the Pillars of Heaven, a mountain range in northwestern Khitai. Bik-Bik was against the
journey from the start.
“You do know that they call Du Shu the giant-king because he’s a giant, don’t you?” The ferret had asked while nibbling on a slice of tofu. Ping had ignored him, and the next day they were headed northwest in the back of a merchant’s wagon.
The snow was deep, up high in the slopes, the air clear, crisp, and very cold. For a time Ping had his doubts about the veracity of the map. Bik-Bik’s far from encouraging bickering did little to assuage his doubts. After hours of climbing, he finally sat down on a large, weathered boulder to catch his breath: and that’s when he saw it—a thin wisp of steam rising above a scattering of maple trees. The shaft didn’t take long to find after stepping through the tree line. Despite Bik-Bik’s objections, he tied his rope securely to a large trunk and began the descent. But now that he was halfway down the shaft, he could feel fresh doubts gnawing at his mind. And Bik-Bik was right—the smell was terrible.
The bottom of the shaft opened into a wide chamber through the ceiling, which was easily thirty feet high. The chamber was constructed of simple granite blocks, the walls forty feet apart.
It only took Ping a moment to recognize what it was—an enormous hallway, lit by torches as tall as men. The end of his rope dangled just beyond the opening, far above the cold stone floor below and twenty feet from either wall.
“Got any more great ideas?” the ferret asked. Ping ignored him.
He slid deftly down to the end of the rope, hanging below the gap so he could get a look at the ceiling. As he had hoped, the seams between the large cut blocks were wide enough to possibly secure a finger hold. He began shifting his weight, and slowly the rope began swaying back and forth.
“I said great ideas! Great ideas!”
Ping let go of the rope with his left hand while Bik-Bik’s terrified scream pierced his ear. Three of his fingers caught the seam, and for a moment he hung there, suspended far above the floor, his left hand gripping the stone precariously, his fingers in the seam with his thumb pressed hard against the ceiling for leverage; his right hand was a fist around the end of the taut rope. He took a deep breath, calming himself. He could feel his grip on the stone become more secure; the pressure on his fingers seemed to lessen.
“Don’t you dare, don’t you dare, don’t you—!” Bik-Bik was saying when Ping let go of the rope. Like a monkey swinging from branch to branch, Ping reached with his right hand for the next seam. His hand, guided by magic, found it perfectly, and after taking just a brief moment to make sure his grip was secure, he swung again.
He continued until he reached the wall, where he found a toehold. Allowing his legs to support his weight, he took a moment to smirk at Bik-Bik.
“Proud of yourself, are you?” Bik-Bik asked. “Well, I’m rather proud of what I left on your shoulder.”
When he finally reached the bottom, Ping fell into a crouch, instinctively hugging the wall and clinging to the shadows. The hallway seemed even larger now that he was in it. The wide corridor stretched away from him in two directions; to his left, he saw that it ended at large, double doors. Doubting he would be physically able to pull them open, he opted to slink along the wall in the other direction, towards a flight of stairs that fell into darkness. Ping passed beneath another vent in the ceiling; he could see the sky—a blue dot in a circle of darkness. The vents, he assumed, were meant to keep fresh air circulating through this vast, underground palace.
However, it wasn’t doing a very good job. The air was humid—to the point of feeling moist—and terribly stale. It held a musky stench that, to Ping, smelled…lived in.
The flight of steps was wide and deep, with each step built nearly three feet tall. They led to a spacious circular room, warmly lit by a massive brazier that sat against the far wall. Lying on a pile of brightly colored silk cushions near that brazier was the giantking Du Shu.
Ping had never seen a giant before. Du Shu was handsome, belying the stench. A long, braided beard fell down across his chest like strands of soft, black silk. His muscular chest rose slightly with each breath; his body was lean and hard, over which he wore a long silk tunic, dyed a deep red and etched in gold with designs of clouds and dragons. Over his tunic—across his trim waist—he wore a large belt studded with gems and rubies. On his brow he wore a golden circlet; a single sapphire sat in its center, casting light caught from the brazier. Ping could feel his hands tremble with excitement. Du Shu was nearly twenty feet tall, and his clothing—along with the gems that adorned them— was increased relatively in size as well.
Ping’s eyes crawled across the glittering gems, his mouth watering, until they fell upon a jewel encrusted dagger—though to Ping it was the size of a large saber—in a sheath on the giant’s belt.
Bik-Bik followed his gaze. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he whispered. Ping was already sneaking across the cold stone floor, matching his footfalls with Du Shu’s gentle snoring. The cushions were perhaps five or six feet in height, the hilt of the dagger/saber resting just above Ping’s head. After rubbing his hands together and flexing his fingers, he reached gingerly out and grasped it firmly with both hands and pulled. What happened next nearly caused him to scream out in alarm.
The hilt shrank suddenly in his fists, the entire weapon reducing in size until it had the dimensions of a human-sized dagger. Ping, who had been pulling on an object that only a moment ago weighed much more than it did now, found himself flying backwards off his feet. He landed hard on his back, Bik-Bik flying off his shoulder and skittering across the floor like a furry little ball. Indignant, Bik-Bik picked himself up and gazed venomously at Ping, though the look was lost on the human Thief.
Ping was gazing at the dagger in his hands. “Magic,” he thought to himself; only a magical dagger could form itself to its wielder. The blade was crafted from pure silver. Embedded along the smooth blade were flecks from a dark ruby, the edges so razor thin that when he tilted it in his hand, the fiery light ran along its length. The blade was so highly polished that when he gazed at it he could see his reflection grinning back at him.
Bik-Bik ran up to him. “If you don’t mind,” he said, “I think we should leave now.” When Ping ignored him and looked back at the other gems adorning the giant-king, Bik-Bik bit his hand.
“Ow!” he yelped, looking to see if the ferret had drawn blood.
“All right! You didn’t have to bite me!” He stood, lifting Bik-Bik and placing him in the pouch he always hung around his shoulders.
He slid the dagger into a separate pack. He made his way quietly back up the steps, listening carefully to the soft snores behind him. When he reached the mouth of the hallway he was thinking of his new dagger. Bik-Bik, whose furry little head was poking out of the flap of his pouch, gasped in sudden alarm. It took Ping a long moment to recognize what was before them. One of the doors at the far end of the hall now stood ajar, and standing in the center of the hallway, just below the vent from which they had entered, stood another giant. Younger in appearance and smooth of face, the giant was clearly one of Du Shu’s sons.
Towering perhaps fifteen feet, he held in his hand Ping’s slender silk rope. He had apparently tugged on it, since dangling from one end was the maple tree he had tied it securely around, fresh earth still clinging to its roots.
Fascination freezing him in place, Ping watched as the giant grasped the tree in one hand and pulled on the rope with the other. The rope snapped as if it were dry, brittle twine. He let it fall to the floor. Ping’s mind was racing. If he could somehow get to the vent, he might still be able to climb out, and the giant wouldn’t be able to follow. He would just need to hide until the giant left the hallway, and then climb up…
And that’s when Ping had the epiphany that it was best to hide first and then think of a plan, as the giant turned its massive head in their direction. Despite the giant’s human appearance, the roar it let out sounded anything but. Ping could hear the soft snoring in the chamber behind him cease abruptly.
The giant charged, holding the tree high over his head like some sort of club. Still Ping stood his ground.
“What are you doing?!” yelled Bik-Bik, frantic. Ping widened his stance, waiting. When the giant reached him, it swung the tree down at his head. As the deadly arc began, Ping flung himself forward, rolling between his legs. He rose on the other side of the giant in a run, the floor shaking as the tree smashed into the spot where he had just been standing.
He sprinted down the hallway and through the open door.
“There’s got to be another way out of here!” he said, mostly to himself.
He found himself in another large room, which was dominated by a long table in the center, surrounded by benches. The top of the table was roughly ten feet off the ground. It was covered in a scattering of dishes and cutlery. He saw a door on the far wall, but it was closed. A large fireplace was near it.
A fireplace! If he could get to it he could climb out to freedom. The door behind him suddenly flew the rest of the way open, striking him from behind and sending him skidding across the floor. He rolled onto his back just in time to see the tree swinging down towards him again. He rolled out of the way just in time, the shockwave from the impact actually lifting him off the ground. He landed on his feet and ran toward the fireplace. With a few great strides, the giant was able to overtake him, cutting him off. Ping’s instincts warned him of the blow that was coming. He threw himself to the side just as the tree came crashing down. He picked himself up and ran.
The giant chased after him, madly swinging the tree. Dodging blow after blow, Ping somehow found himself in the center of the room. He ducked a wild swing and grabbed a branch as it passed overhead. He was lifted high off his feet. Legs dangling, he held on tightly as the giant swung the tree wildly back and forth, madly trying to shake him off. Ping let go just as the table passed beneath him, falling into a crouch and dashing for the far end. But in two great strides the giant was there, looming before him. He turned and ran for the other end, but again the giant bound across the room to cut him off.
He needed to get to the fireplace. Timing it just right, he made a dash across the surface. The giant, fed up with this game, smashed the other end of the table with his makeshift club. The wood lifted beneath his feet, catapulting him across the room. He hit a wall, hard, landing in a daze, his breath abandoning him. He felt himself being scooped up, and the next thing he knew he was staring at the grinning face of the giant, who held him up like one would hold an infant.
Ping’s mind worked frantically. He couldn’t reach his dagger, so he reached into his pack and grabbed Bik-Bik around his waist.
“Bik-Bik, I need a dagger!” he yelled. Bik-Bik understood. Magical creatures, Khitaian ferrets were able to assume the form of any object equal to their mass, as long as they had previously been in contact with it. Ping felt Bik-Bik transform into a hard steel dagger in his fist. He lifted it out of the pack and stabbed down onto one of the giant’s hands as hard as he could. With a great yell, the giant’s fingers flew apart, and Ping made another dash for the fireplace.
Just as he reached it, a bench flew over his head, crashing over the fireplace’s opening, sealing it shut. He spun around and saw the giant rushing after him, his face a mask of fury. His escape route cut off, Ping had no other choice but to maneuver back out into the hallway. Once again sprinting down the long corridor, he came to an abrupt halt halfway down. There, at the other end, was Du Shu, his arms folded tightly across his chest, and a wicked grin on his face.
Ping spun around, and he saw Du Shu’s son filling the doorway he had just left. Bik-Bik transformed back into his natural form and said, “Next time I’ll change myself into a brain; maybe that way you’ll think before getting us into this kind of situation!” Ping lowered himself into a crouch as the giants advanced. As soon as they were near, he—