The Bridge of the Dead

Prelude to Adventure

“First time in Burma?” Khaung asked.

My guide was trying to distract me as I struggled with my inner demons for control of my legs. The argument consisted of my belief that they should do as I say, to which their counter argument was that there was no way they were going to cross a bridge made with technology from the dawn of human civilization. The way my guide smiled so brightly during my battle for bodily autonomy I couldn’t help but believe he was teasing me.

It was a common misconception amongst my peers that I have a fear of heights which is preposterous. I am not afraid of anything, and the current altercation I was engaged in with my legs was actually born of a long-standing disagreement I had with gravity.

“No good sir, it is not,” I replied.

I know I was being unreasonable but with the turn century coming to a close I wished that some of these obscure places would embrace some of the wonderful technologies the west had to offer like stone and steel. But even if the rest of the country did, I doubted that the place of my destination would.

“Why are we going this way?” I asked as I over powered my legs and took my first tentative steps onto the suspended bridge.

Short and broad, my guide stood on the wooden planks of the bridge as the wind swept his hair and turned the wooden construct into a ride fit for the back of an elephant. He pointed to the waterfall that served as the backdrop of our escapade. The thunderous roar of falling water echoed into the valley far below.

“It is the rainy season, gyi. The waterfall has swelled twice as big. All the other paths to Mokog have been flooded.”

“For a forbidden city Mokog doesn’t seem all that inaccessible.”

The ropes that supported the bridge felt like I was grappling cacti as I gripped for dear life taking one careful step after another. Khaung seemed like a mystic traveler unfazed by the shifting bridge despite being dressed in western clothes.

“Mokog is not a forbidden city, it’s not even a hidden city. It is only isolated.”

“Is there a reason for that?” I asked, though I could have guessed the answer with the full knowledge of human history I had.

“It used to be a temple. Armies came and the people would flee to the temple. The armies would ignore it because it was too much trouble. Eventually the people got tired of fleeing every time a new army came so they just stayed. Soon it became a temple town, then a temple city, then a full city.”

I pulled myself to within a few steps of Khaung, “A city completely isolated from the modern world.”

“Not completely. Mokog has a steady flow of visitors and it keeps the ones it wants.”

“It keeps them?” I asked curiously.”

Khaung smiled and turned towards the other side and started walking, “It is not something that can be explained scientifically, my friend. Mokog has a will of its own. The people that are allowed to live there belong to Mokog and Mokog will always bring them back. Likewise, if you are not wanted, you will not be staying long.”

I followed behind him slowly, contemplating his cryptic words, wondering if there was some clandestine political power that oversaw the comings and goings of the city. It wouldn’t be unheard of, even in the west. I vaguely recall Khaung continuing on about the history of Mokog and mystical forces but I happened to notice from the corner of my eye a second bridge peeking out from the mist of the waterfall.

It spanned a shorter distance between the ledges but its dark frame was completely engulfed by spray. Despite this it seemed altogether unfazed by this nor the strong winds that would inhabit the proximity of the waterfall and stood there unmoved by the pulverizing forces that surrounded it.

I saw a figure moving across it and squinted trying to focus on them. It was Georgie. That gait with a limp. That duster coat, his cane. I could even make out the streak of gray invading the mop of coal that topped his skull. What was Georgie doing here? More importantly, where was he going? He must be here for the same reason I was. He’s after the scrolls. I never liked Georgie. His pompousness, narrowmindedness I could put up with, it was his dim-witted practicality that had no business in our world. He was a staunch believer in the theory of William of Ockham and it was ludicrous and downright heinous at times to think he had any intellectual merit within our circles.

Georgie paused midway through the bridge and turned towards me. At least that is what happened as best as I could tell from that distance. I wondered if he could see me from where he was in that mist, if he knew it was me. If he was here for the scrolls I wondered if he discovered some lead I had yet to find and was now ahead of me. Whatever I was pondering was of little interest to the man on the other side of the expanse and he turned away continuing his journey across his bridge.

“Which brings me to my next question, my friend.”

Georgie had all but disappeared from my sight and now my focus returned to Khaung, “What brings you to Mokog?”

Khaung turned to me when he asked this question. This gesture told me this was more than polite conversation meant to distract me from the perilous height we were standing above. It didn’t matter; I was in no mood to discuss my circumstances with him.

“No offense intended but I don’t intend to discuss my business with a man it doesn’t concern under circumstances such as these,” I said.

“No offense taken, my friend. However, the matter of your business does concern me so I must insist you tell me your intentions,” Khaung said this with a smile, a smile that despite its presence made no attempt to hide the sincere intent behind it.

“I paid you to guide me to Mokog and that is the extent of our relationship,” I doubt the concern that was building up in me failed to be noticed in my voice.

“And guide you I have, to the very threshold of of Mokog. But that is where our relationship as guide and charge ends. As one of the guardians of the city, a constable as they say in the West, I rarely inquire about the business of guests and tourists that come to see the city. However, recently we’ve had a string of troublemakers that have caused us a lot of problems. These troublemakers come from a line of professions with different titles but all amount to the same conclusion, thievery. As it so happens Mr. Everett, you happen to belong to one such profession.”

“I am no thief,” I said coldly. I knew what he meant but my nature made me naturally stubborn and obtuse.

“You take what is not yours, who you sell or ‘donate’ to is of little concern at that point.”

“And if I refuse?” A stupid question I know, but the time for subtlety was over and if I was going to squeezed for information, I wanted to know how close I was to my goal and how far they were willing to go to protect it would tell me that.

“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to feed the ‘yaungg.”

I must have unconsciously raised my brow, “Crocodiles my friend, there’s a brood that nests close to the waterfall right below us.”

I was taller, but he was thicker. His confidence on the bridge and my lack thereof gave me no illusions of who would win the altercation.

“I came for the hcaraote,” one way or another he would find out and better to find out under honest circumstances than secondhand.

“You came for that book?” Khaung asked. I nodded.

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Gravity is a mathematical equation that makes everything simple, Mr. Everett.”

“I was sent to die. The powers I’m beholden to have high expectations of me and because I failed to meet those expectations, they sent an assassin to kill me. I was offered a stay of execution if I produced results on a venture they have been struggling with.”

“And that venture is the Dragon’s Book?” he asked. I nodded.

Khaung seemed deep in thought for a moment.

“On one condition...” he started.

“I don’t need the book, only what’s inside,” I interrupted, “I have no intention of keeping it.”

Kaung stared at me for a second as if measuring the value of my words. His eyes wandered skyward as if considering something then returned to me. The look he affixed me seemed somewhat satisfied.

“What manner of assassin did they send after you?” He was probably curious about what trouble I might cause for him.

“The soft and warm kind, with a pretty face.”

He closed his eyes and sighed in a knowing fashion. He nodded his head and turned away. He started walking again, raising his hand motion me to follow with a wave. I guess I passed the test. The immediate threat now abated had relieved me of other fears as well and I could traverse the bridge as if it was a normal trail. Several thoughts still plagued me.

“You seem unconcerned about my intent for the book,” I casually mentioned.

“The truth is Mr. Everett. We don’t have the book.”

My heart sank into my gut.

“He must have sensed it, “Well to be precise, it’s lost. We don’t know where it is. If it actually existed has become a bit of a legend within the city. That said, if you can find it, it is a boon to us. The truth is the city has been built over several times through the centuries, much has been lost.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh. Digging for an ancient book in an active city was going to be a nightmare and that is with the premise the book was still in the city and hadn’t been destroyed or excavated and absconded to who knows where.

“One more thing,” I implored, “What is that bridge over there? Where does it go to?”

Khaung spared a look to where I pointed close to the waterfall, “It is nothing Mr. Everett. It is called the Bridge of the Dead. There’s no way to access it and it goes nowhere. A religious artifact from long ago now a local superstition that the spirits of the dead use it to travel.”

“Is that so,” I mused.

We finally reached the other side and I asked my final query, “Where did you receive your education?”

“The English sent their armies to ‘colonize’ the land some years ago, when they failed, equitable trade was established between our two people. English has become like a seventeenth language to us.”

“Seventeenth?” I said incredulously.

“India, China and a dozen other armies have come through here, even the Mongols ventured in many centuries ago. They all brought with them their words and their gods. They never stay long. Mokog doesn’t need them. They build their temples and then leave.”

“How many temples are in Mokog?”

“I’d say around twenty right now.”

“Right now?”

“I am talking about the ones that exist right now, there are many more they are built on top of.”

My head was still spinning as we reached the landing on the other side. Khaung didn’t slow his stride as he headed down a well-worn path leading through a crop of jungle trees in an arcing path around the curving slope of the mountain cliffs. After renewing the contract of bodily autonomy, I jogged the short distance to fall in step behind him.

Hearing my approach Khaung continued, “You came at an unfortunate time. The rainy season came on suddenly as did the floods. There are many stranded here by the floods.”

“Can’t they use the bridge?” I asked.

“They could, but I believe many argue with the same demons you do. Others are merchants whose beasts of burden that will not cross. There is also a regiment of English soldiers and they can’t get their vehicles over.”

“It seems you have a host of problems.”

Khaung chuckled. Yes indeed, very good sir.”

“I don’t suppose you have any idea where I should start looking for the book?” I asked nonchalantly.

“You are talking about the city’s up most sacred treasure, ask any of the citizenry and they will all tell you where they think it is and each time it will be someplace different.”

I gave voice to my frustration with a loud sigh, “How much further to the city?”

“Right there,” Khaung said stepping to the side as he ascended a small rise in the path that had been blocking the view ahead. I took a few steps forward to stand by his side. I looked towards where he was gesturing with an outstretched hand and I was dimly aware that my chin began to sag in amazement.