The Sea of the Dead

by Barry Wolverton

  “You did, remember?” said Sean. “When you convinced Bren and Mouse to detour through China with you?”

  For once Lady Barrett didn’t have a snappy response. The mention of Mouse brought down a curtain of silence around them for some time to come as they marched onward.

  What eventually broke their silence was an obstacle none of them saw coming, one that made the decision to walk or ride a moot point. They had scaled the final ridge of the mountain they were on, and found themselves staring down into a wide valley. Between them and the valley, though—and stretching for miles, it seemed—was a glacier that cascaded down the entire side of the mountain like some vast sheet of glass. The valley itself was frozen, too, though whether it was a frozen river or ground, Bren couldn’t tell.

  “It’s extraordinary how the weather patterns can change between these mountain ranges,” said Lady Barrett.

  “This can’t be normal,” said Sean. “We’re still on the caravan route, aren’t we?”

  “As far as I know,” said Lady Barrett. “But the merchants and traders who have been doing this for centuries know the routes are seasonal. Perhaps we missed a turn to a preferable path. Or maybe there isn’t one. Many a caravan has met its demise over a long, arduous journey.”

  “Well that’s comforting,” said Sean.

  “I’m all for positive thinking,” said Lady Barrett, “but we have to face facts. We need a way down or a way around.”

  “Maybe we could just wait until it melts,” said Bren.

  “Aye,” said Sean. “We’ll just sit up here until next spring.”

  Lady Barrett stroked her chin and looked back the way they had come. “I really don’t remember missing a turn. Granted, we’re at summer’s end, but our former companions obviously thought the way would still be passable.”

  “Maybe we should let them catch back up to us,” said Bren. “We could go back toward the Black Gravel Pass, where we know for sure they were headed.”

  “Might be too late,” said Sean. “They may have gone another way already.”

  “Perhaps,” said Lady Barrett. “Still, it may be our only option.”

  Just then, the female yak began to inch forward. Before they could stop her, she had stepped onto the edge of the glacier, her front hooves skid-scraping onto the frosty surface, churning up a froth of icy particles, which roughened the surface and seemed to help give her purchase. She gingerly brought her rear feet onto the glacier as well, taking a step or two before stopping. She managed to stand still, apparently sure-footed, at a slight angle to the slope of the mountain.

  “Do you really think she can walk all the way down?”

  “Yaks can handle most anything,” said Lady Barrett. “It’s why they use them in these parts.”

  “Even if she can,” said Sean, “what about us?”

  The yak looked slowly back over her shoulder at the bull, as if to say, Here’s our chance to get away from these people.

  “Think the yaks could carry us all the way down?” said Bren.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” said Lady Barrett. “Obviously, the braver of the two adults should try first.”

  At that, both she and Sean stepped toward the cow. Both lost their footing as soon as they stepped onto the glacier, sliding forward until they hit the yak broadside. The impact put them on their rear ends and stopped their momentum, but it knocked the startled beast off-balance, and as Bren watched helplessly, the yak lost grip with all four hooves and began to slide.

  At first it was a slow but frantic descent, the yak flailing her legs in a futile attempt to regain her footing on the steep slope. And then all four legs went out from under her, splayed in four different directions, until she was sledding down the mountainside on her belly with ever-increasing speed, bellowing so loudly that her voice echoed across the chasm.

  There was nothing to do but watch, and what a sight it turned out to be. After a seemingly endless descent, the yak hit a part of the mountain where the descent became more gradual and began to slow, until she coasted off the relatively flat end of the glacier onto the snow-covered valley and spun slowly to a stop like a sprung clock.

  “Is she okay?” said Bren.

  The yak gingerly got to her feet, ice and snow beading up all around her shaggy body and bearded face, and turned to look back up the mountain, as if to ask what was taking the rest of them so long.

  “Now what?” said Sean, just before Bren launched himself forward, sliding between the two of them and grabbing both by the arms, pulling all three feetfirst down the glacier.

  The spray of ice from their shoes was so painful, Bren had to shut his eyes, so his only sensations for what felt like the next hour were of brittle cold striking his face and the deafening pressure of wind whipping by his ears. Oh, and his rear end somehow feeling both on fire and numbingly cold.

  At last Bren felt everything start to slow down, his body feeling less like it had fallen through a trapdoor and more like he was coasting down one of the gentle hills of Britannia’s countryside. And suddenly whatever was holding up his backside went from cold and hard to cold and soft as they all came to a slushy stop in the snowy valley.

  When Bren opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was the yak, just standing there. Was that a smile? No, he was just imagining things. A rapid change in altitude like that was bound to scramble your brains.

  “Everyone okay?” Sean asked feebly. His hair and eyebrows were covered in frost and his pale nose was beet red, so he looked a bit like a snowman.

  “That was fun, wasn’t it?” said Lady Barrett, popping to her feet. “We’d never have gotten down the mountain that fast if not for the glacier. What a stroke of good fortune!”

  “Aye, I’ve never felt luckier,” said Sean, staggering up out of the snow, looking as if he might puke.

  “What about him?” said Bren, looking back up at the bull, still standing at the crest of the ridge. He turned around and slowly walked the other way.

  “I guess we’re down to one yak,” said Lady Barrett.

  “Probably should’ve thought of that beforehand,” said Sean. “We may bloody well need him.”

  He was right. “Sorry,” said Bren. “I didn’t think.”

  He was dusting the snow from his pants and looking around the frozen valley. Or was it a river? Either way, it wasn’t obvious which way they should go. Up or down the valley or across the next mountain ridge? Sean was thinking the same thing.

  “Which way does the famed Silk Road go?” he asked Lady Barrett. “I thought there’d be more signs.”

  “Trouble is, there was more than one Silk Road,” she said. “Which direction looks best to you two?”

  Bren looked back up the mountain, as if his gut was telling him to retreat. Near the top he saw a group of people that he at first assumed to be the rest of the caravan they had left behind. But this group was farther north along the edge of the glacier than he and Sean and Lady Barrett had been.

  “Lady Barrett, do you still have your pocket spyglass?” He pointed up. “I don’t think that’s the caravan.”

  Lady Barrett found her spyglass and took a look. “You’re right, it’s not. Six men. Mongols, I’m guessing.”

  “Are they following us?” Sean asked.

  The spyglass still fixed to her eye, Lady Barrett shook her head. “They appear to be looking north of us.” She turned her gaze up the valley. “More men. Many more. On horseback. Not Mongols, I don’t think.”

  “An army?” said Bren.

  “Could be,” said Lady Barrett. She inspected the people atop the mountain again. “They’re rigging something up. Can’t quite tell . . . oh boy.”

  “What is it?” said Bren.

  “I think it’s explosives.”

  “They’re going to try to blow the glacier,” said Sean. “Ice avalanche. We need to get the bloody hell out of this valley.”

  “What about them?” said Bren, pointing toward the cavalry. “Shouldn’t we warn
them?”

  “We don’t know who they are,” said Sean. “Maybe they’re the bad guys.”

  “Maybe they’re the good guys,” Bren retorted.

  Sean let out a great sigh and turned to Lady Barrett. “You’re so keen on being the leader. You decide.”

  She was turning and turning the spyglass in her hands, staring into the distance. Finally she said, “We don’t know who’s good or bad in this context, or who deserves what. We do know that one group is about to try to kill the other, and that we could prevent the carnage. Morality dictates that we do so.”

  Sean rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Professor.”

  “You told her to make the decision,” said Bren. “Let’s go.”

  Bren turned and started half running up the valley, followed by Lady Barrett. Sean, who had to put his slack jaw back in place, was last. They forgot all about the yak, but when she noticed she was being left, she ran after them at a pace Bren didn’t think possible for an animal that size.

  “Hey!” screamed Bren, when he got close enough that he thought the men on horseback could hear him. “Hey!”

  He resorted to frantic arm waving, and when they were perhaps a hundred yards from the men, one of them pointed their way. Now that he had their attention, he pointed up to the men with explosives. “Up there!”

  A few of the men did look, and seconds later one of them was barking orders at the others, who sprang into action and began to gallop off down the valley in the direction from which Bren had come.

  Just then, there was a concussive blast, and for a moment Bren wasn’t sure if it was the sudden thunder of hooves or the explosives going off. It didn’t take him long to figure out which. He saw Lady Barrett and Sean looking up at the towering plume of black smoke, and they all stood frozen as a long horizontal crack began to open along the top of the glacier.

  A commanding voice said, “We need to move. Get on.”

  Bren looked up to see the man he took to be the group’s leader, holding out his arm to Bren. Two other mounted men went to Lady Barrett and Sean.

  “I said, get on!” the man repeated, and Bren and Sean took the hands that were offered to them and climbed up. Lady Barrett, who seemed incapable of doing anything except in the most improbable way, instead jumped on the back of their surprised yak, grabbed her thick coat, and spurred her into action.

  “We’re not going to make it,” said Bren, who had barely attached himself to his rescuer’s horse before it took off galloping down the valley.

  “No future king of Ladakh is going to be buried by a bunch of filthy gold miners,” the man shouted over the deafening noise of galloping horses and a piece of the massive glacier grinding down the mountainside. Even as he said it, his horse seemed to speed up.

  So our rescuer is a prince? thought Bren as he buried his face in the man’s thick fur tunic and held on to a pair of leather straps attached to the horse’s saddle. He tried to stay down, but when he heard another explosion followed by a cracking sound, he couldn’t resist looking back.

  The glacier had torn across the roughest part of the mountainside, and in doing so had begun to come apart in the middle. The end farthest from them fell with sudden speed, crashing into the valley. When it did so, Bren finally learned that they were galloping across a frozen river, as the calved glacier plunged through the surface, bringing up an eruption of water and ice. The realization of how fast the glacier could fall seized Bren with panic—there was no way their horses, and a yak, could outrun the other half.

  It was the mountain itself, however, that saved them. The remaining part, freed of half its weight, ground to a halt along the rocky ridge.

  The cavalry slowed their pace when they realized what had happened, and eventually they came to rest near a tall, narrow pass in another mountain range, several hundred yards past where Bren, Sean, and Lady Barrett had come down the mountain.

  Bren sat up on the back of his horse. When he turned the leather straps loose, his arms and hands ached. He must’ve had them in a death grip. He realized his whole body was damp with sweat, despite the freezing temperatures.

  “How are you, young man?” his rescuer asked.

  “Okay, I think,” said Bren. “How are you?”

  The man laughed out loud with gusto. “Me? I am grateful to you and your friends, that’s how I am. I don’t think it’s giving you too much credit to say you saved our lives.”

  “Oh, well, it seemed like the right thing to do,” Bren stammered, leaving out the part where they debated whether to help or not.

  “I should think my father would like to thank you,” said the man.

  “Your father?” said Bren.

  “Jamyang Namgyal, the King of Ladakh. I am his firstborn, Sengge.”

  “I’m Bren Owen,” said Bren. “Firstborn of David Owen.” He felt stupid as soon as he said it.

  “Well, Bren Owen,” said Sengge, “please come with us through the pass. Let us show you our kingdom and offer you rest and food.”

  Bren didn’t know what to expect, or whether they had anything to fear. All he knew was that he was bone weary and starving. All three of them were. They eagerly agreed, and soon they were off again, though a wondrous natural gate to the other side of the mountain.

  CHAPTER

  9

  ENEMIES OF THE BLUE SKY

  Remarkably, the other side of the mountain was almost free of snow and ice, and nestled in the valley was a cluster of small white buildings, surrounded by a handful of larger buildings high above that seemed to have grown right from the rock faces. The largest structure wasn’t even complete yet—Bren realized it must be the king’s new palace that brought caravans like theirs to Leh.

  Sengge noticed Bren admiring the work in progress. “We hope to complete as much of the new palace as we can before winter, when the caravans can no longer come through, and then finish the job next summer.”

  “We started out with a caravan carrying loads of wood for the palace,” Bren explained. “We got separated when two men tried to rob us.”

  Sengge frowned. “There aren’t many passable roads through these mountains,” he said. “If these bandits come to town you must point them out. We will cut off their hands.”

  “Oh, they won’t,” said Bren. “Lady Barrett already took care of them.”

  “Her?” Sengge turned in the direction of Lady Barrett, who appeared to be arguing with Sean about something.

  “Trust me,” said Bren. “Don’t underestimate her.”

  Sengge let out a great laugh. “Duly noted!”

  They continued down the path toward the city, which to Bren’s surprise wasn’t gated. He supposed the mountain walls served as protection—along with what appeared to be Ladakh’s considerable army—but his argument with Sean and Lady Barrett about who were really the “good guys” and “bad guys” kept bothering him.

  “Sengge, why were those men trying to kill you?”

  The prince’s horse took half a dozen strides before he answered. “These mountains are full of natural resources. Gold in particular. Suffice it to say we dispute each other’s claims.”

  “But who are they?”

  “Mongols,” Sengge replied bitterly. “Blue Sky worshippers.”

  Bren had no idea what that meant, but Sengge didn’t elaborate. All he said was, “We are Buddhist, trying to build a peaceful kingdom. Yes, we have a large army, but that’s because to our north and east are Mongols, who are conquerors, and to our west and south are the Moguls, adding more and more land to their empire. We have no choice but to push back.”

  Bren nodded but remained silent. What Sengge said might be true, but he had heard enough wicked people justify their actions to know he should guard his trust closely.

  Sengge led them through the most crowded part of the city, sort of a merchants’ quarter where Bren saw huge bins filled with salt, various grains, odd-looking plants and peppers, and silk, which he recognized at once.

  “I briefly got to wear
silk when I was in China,” said Bren.

  “You were in China?” said Sengge. “You were far from home, weren’t you?”

  “Still am,” said Bren. “But I’m trying to get back.”

  Sengge nudged his horse over to a merchant who was folding a different sort of cloth and motioned for the woman to hand him a piece. He held it out to Bren. “Feel this.”

  “What is this?” said Bren, greedily clutching the soft fabric. Soft wasn’t even the right word. He felt like he was holding a pillowy cloud.

  “Cashmere,” said Sengge. “Comes from a smelly old goat. Can you believe it?”

  Bren was secretly praying the prince would make a gift of it, but he took the piece back and returned it to the merchant.

  “We get the finest of everything here,” boasted Sengge. “Four major routes of the Silk Road converge in Ladakh.”

  “I would rename it the Cashmere Road,” said Bren, and the prince laughed.

  From the city Sengge led Bren, Sean, and Lady Barrett up a narrow mountain road to a group of fortresslike white buildings perched atop a series of foothills. They passed through a wooden door of golden timbers into a courtyard lush with grass, potted plants, and caged birds that were chirping and singing nonstop.

  “Wait here,” Sengge instructed. “Enjoy the view. I will go find my father, and we will see about your accommodations.”

  They were higher up than when they had come down into town through the mountain pass, and from here Bren could see a complete map of the town and the mountains that ringed it. A golden eagle dropped from the clouds and soared over the palace.

  “From here the word kingdom seems to fit,” said Lady Barrett.

  “It did seem less than impressive from the ground,” said Sean. “But this is nigh majestic.”

  “The mountains are full of gold and other resources, according to the prince,” said Bren. “He claims that was why those men were trying to kill his army.”

  “You sound skeptical,” said Lady Barrett.

  Bren shrugged. “Look at this view. It’s a shame people want to blow holes in the mountains to get what’s inside.” And yet he was the one who felt ashamed saying it. Didn’t he do the same thing when he opened the Dragon’s Gate?