The Lost Scroll of Tun-Huang

Part 1: The Caves of a Thousand Buddha’s

The Ming Oi of Tun-Huang stretched out across the Gobi Desert like dozens of warriors, splayed out protecting the paintings within their walls. Tun-Huang was an ancient shrine to Buddhist worshippers. The four day trek through the desert was equal to the pilgrims going to Mecca. They would see their sacred city and give alms to their God.

Tun Huang was deceptive. It’s lush green grass hidden amongst the world’s roughest desert. However, deep within its hidden caves lied the spirits of the restless, angered over the loss of their sacred scrolls taken decades before. Now, nearing the millennium a new trespasser has come to explore and search for the Lost Scroll of Tun-Huang.

“Indy! Please give Terrence his shoe!” Jordan Forbes yelled at his Lhasa Apso puppy. The gray brindle fur-ball was running around in a circle with a weary Englishman on his heels. His yips were muffled by the black Nike he half dragged, half carried into the cave.

“Indy!” Jordan, normally patient, grew irritated by his furry companion’s tomfoolery. He lunged at the puppy. Indy backed up and watched his owner fall face first into the dirt. Indy whipped his head back and yapped, laughing at his fallen owner. “Oh, Indy,” Jordan sighed, “Perhaps I have neglected you the past few days. Give Terrence his shoe and we will have a talk.”

Indy picked up the shoe in his mouth and dragged it over to Terrence, who was leaning against a large rock. The pup dropped it in front of him, barked, and trotted back to Jordan.

Jordan scooped the pup up and they moved out of the cave and into a flowering courtyard. Jordan sat on a bench and set Indy beside him. The pup took to chewing on the zipper of Jordan’s jacket.

“Now, Indy, Mr. Phaeton is not going to renew our grant if we don’t find that scroll.” Jordan talked to the pup as an equal because that was the sort of man he was. His job offered him little time for friends and Indy was his best friend since being given to him two months ago by his father. His father was an anthropologist and enjoyed exploring the Himalayas especially the country of Tibet. He was introduced to the the Lhasa by a native elder and apparently, at least Jordan believed, his father thought he needed a friend. A precocious one at that.

Indy halted his zipper chewing and cocked his head at Jordan. Mr. Phaeton was not one of Indy’s favorite people. He yelled at him and Jordan far too much. He was glad Mr. Phaeton had stepped in the gift he had left for him. “If he doesn’t renew our grant, I’m back to being someone’s gopher. I should have been a lawyer not an archaeologist.”

Indy sensed Jordan’s lowered mood and set a comforting paw on his leg.

“Thanks, little one.” Jordan rubbed the pup’s unruly head of hair. “I think tonight we’ll look towards the back of the cave, where the paintings of Hsuan-Tsang begin. The scroll has got to be there.”

Jordan and Indy were seated deep within the cave. They were bathed in the fluorescent light of Jordan’s lamp, but the darkness loomed around them.

Jordan found the silence intimidating. He was used to caves surrounded by water and the constant drip drip of trickling water smacking the rocks below. The desert evaporated the water above ground, where the caves were located. Jordan took to moving his foot or coughing just to hear his echo. Indy was quiet beside him, tired as only a pup can get from a day of stealing people’s shoes. He had his head resting on his paws, content in snoozing or watching Jordan.

Jordan had his hands gloved in a special cloth, that would not harm the cave paintings. He touched the cave wall, looking for a secret opening. The legend found buried deep in the Gobi Desert had spoken of a scroll, belonging to Hsuan Tsang, that gave directions to a lost city preserved beneath the old silk road. This city was to be the key of what happened to the nomadic tribe of the Xiong Nu. At least scholars could solve this question with so many possible answers. Did they die out? Blend with another tribe? Or were they in fact the people who fought behind Attila? Jordan desperately wanted to know the answer.

He stared at the painting of the Great Traveler. The colors had faded slightly from time, but the work was impressive even 12 centuries later. Hsuan Tsang was a stately looking man. A man who desired knowledge and inquisitive. He did not look to be a man of great size, but his travels and documentation of them, made him a hero. This was a painting of Hsuan Tsang being handed a scroll, the Dhammapada as told by Buddha himself. Jordan scoffed at the significance, for this was how Sir Aurel Stein had tricked Abbott Wang out of dozens of the caves scrolls. Jordan would trick no one. He only wanted to study the lost scroll in order to find answers, not make a name for himself or have the priceless treasure displayed in Boston. No, he wanted to unlock the still hidden secrets of the amazing people of this land.

Indy’s eyes closed and he started to drift into a dream of a treasure trove filled with shoes, but his acute hearing picked up an unnatural sound. It sounded low and guttural, as if it were echoing from deep inside the cave.

Indy lifted his head and listened. It sounded like chanting. The familiar “Om” chant the monks in the monasteries chanted. Indy growled. The sound was not the same as the monastery. This sound was eerie.

Jordan knelt down and felt the lower part of the painting. “There must be a button somewhere. I know it’s hidden in these walls.”

Jordan stopped his prodding when Indy let out a continuous growl. He turned and stared at Indy. “What’s wrong, little one? A cave critter making faces at you?” Jordan smiled, but it quickly faded as he heard the chant.

“Om . . . Om . . . “ it grew louder with each refrain.

Jordan lifted his lantern and squinted into the darkness. “Hello?” he called, his voice echoed, barely overheard from the chanting. The chanting grew louder until Jordan had to cover his ears as the sound echoed around him.

Indy poised himself on his hind legs. He growled with fury and soon gave way to barking in the direction the chant had started.

The hair on the back of Jordan’s neck stood up as he witnessed the scene before him. Goosebumps jumped up on his arms as his eyes widened. A long procession of transparent Buddhist monks moved toward them, dressed in orange and red robes. They were chanting and moving straight for them. Jordan backed against the wall. Indy yapped at the figures, infuriated. “Indy,” Jordan sputtered as the monks were nearly on top of the fearless pup. He grabbed Indy and pressed him against his chest. Indy fought for freedom, but Jordan’s terror kept the pup in place. The monks passed by them in two rows and didn’t seem to notice Jordan or the puppy. The procession seemed endless until they disappeared and all grew quiet. Uneasily quiet.

“That was a scene out of Poltergeist,” Jordan replied in a shaky voice.

Indy burst out of his arms and yapped towards the spot the monks first appeared.
“It’s OK, little one, the monks are gone. Maybe we should stop eating those prairie delicacies. This could be the beginnings of the bubonic plague.” Jordan, always the stable scientific mind, passed away their experience as undigested food reminiscent of the words once said by Ebenezer Scrooge and his ghosts proved to be real. However, Jordan was not a mean, miserly man. He was a man of science and after answers. Indy continued barking and stopped midbark as a white mist oozed from the walls around them.

Jordan and Indy were both transfixed on the spectacle. The mist lingered in front of them and like the monks seemed endless. It filtered into the cavern and began whirling, slowly and then into a frenzy like a dervish, until the mist had taken the form of a man.

The man pointed at Jordan.

“Leave this place,” he spoke, “Or suffer the wrath of the thousand Buddha’s. This is your only warning. Think hard, for their wrath is unprecedented.” Jordan finally found his nerves. They had been hidden somewhere inside the bottom of his shoe.

“Monks are peaceful,” Jordan blurted out. He had never heard of any mad monks. Well, there was Rasputin. However, he had never heard of any crazy Buddhist monks or any spirits haunting these caves.

The spirit fell deep into thought, this trespasser needed an example of the power of the spirits. “Think back to the man who cheated Wang out of his piles of scrolls. He fell victim to the curse.”

Jordan’s fear had receded. “The man lived well into his 80’s. This isn’t exactly the tomb of a pharaoh and I’m hardly Lord Carnarvon or Howard Carter. Curses do not exist, but in weak minds.” The spirit laughed loudly. “You young people amuse me so. The man did live into his 80’s, but his perceived victory in our cave led to his omission of accolades from his chosen country. A man respected in India, but a curse to speak of in Britain.” A whoosh of cold wind whipped through the cave.

The spirit closed his eyes and listened to the wind. “You’ve upset the spirits with your trespassing, but now you upset them with your insolence. Take heed, young Jordan Forbes. Leave this cave or face the wrath.” The spirit spun back into a misty blob. The area around them became very cold as the blob spun toward them like a thousand swords and disappeared into the wall.

Jordan and the pup stared at the spot in the wall it had disappeared and then at each other.

“Science says there are no ghosts. I’m beginning to think they don’t know everything.”