The Invoker: A Lawson Vampire Novel 2 (The Lawson Vampire Series)

by Jon F. Merz

Jomsom’s streets were all dirt. I saw a few telephone lines, but nothing that made me think of the place as a technological hotbed of activity. Wirek steered us down several twisting alleyways until we came to a place called "Tiny’s."

  It might have been a bar, but the Pepsi Cola logo sign so common in third-world countries told me they offered more than alcohol.

  "Inside," said Wirek. "Stay quiet and let me do the talking, okay?"

  "Sure thing, Ben."

  "Ben?"

  "Movie reference. Not important."

  Darkness slid over us as we entered, reinforcing a sentiment I have about all third-world drinking establishments. The less you can see, the more dangerous it’s liable to be.

  Wirek worked us over to the bar and began speaking in rapid-fire Nepali. I looked around and saw a huge curved knife hanging behind the bar.

  It was a kukri, the symbol of the legendary Gurkha fighters of Nepal. But the town of Gurkha was to the south, north of Kathmandu. I was surprised to see a veteran so far up north as we were.

  After five minutes of talking, Wirek turned and offered me a glass of something.

  "What’s this?"

  "House special, drink it up."

  I tilted the glass back and felt the liquid burn my throat as it went down. I coughed once and the entire bar erupted into peals of laughter.

  "Shit."

  The barman gestured animatedly to the patrons and yelled something. They laughed even more. Then the barman looked back at me.

  "You like?"

  "Wonderful," I said with a smile. "Can I have another?"

  He roared. "You bet."

  I looked at Wirek. "He speaks English?"

  "‘Course he does. You see that kukri? He’s a Gurkha."

  "I figured that one out."

  "Well then you should have known he’d speak English. It’s a requirement for them in order to serve with the British, they have to speak the tongue. Makes sense doesn’t it."

  "Finish your drink, Wirek."

  I tossed down another glass of the molten fire and held out my hand to the barman. "I’m Lawson."

  He grabbed it and pumped it twice. "Tiny."

  Tiny was the complete opposite of his name. While he might have stood five feet eight inches in height, he was easily over two hundred and twenty pounds. He looked six feet wide. And all of it pure muscle. The guy was anything but tiny.

  I pointed at the kukri. "How long did you serve?"

  "Twenty years. Borneo, Malaysia, Oman, Yemen-you name it, I saw it. Then I came back here and opened this joint up." He looked around and leaned in closer. "You and Wirek headed up north, eh?"

  "Yeah."

  "Best be careful up there. Rumors say there’s some strange activity going on. They say even the Tibetan Buddhists up there are running scared."

  "Yeah?"

  He nodded. "Believe it. News travels fast in these parts." He leaned over the bar. "Wirek tells me you guys need transportation and a guide?"

  "A guide?" I looked at Wirek who nodded. "Yeah I guess."

  Tiny smiled. "I’m your man."

  "You? What about your bar here?"

  "What about it?" Tiny shrugged. "I’m restless. I’ve been tending bar here for years since I retired from the service."

  "How much?"

  Tiny grinned. "Cost of supplies, that’s it."

  "That’s it? Nothing in it for you?"

  "Plenty in it for me," said Tiny. "I’m itching for a little adventure."

  "How do you know it’ll be an adventure?"

  He smiled, but it was a wary smile. "Because, Mr. Lawson, I have heard the rumors." He downed a glass of the same stuff he’d given me and winced. "And they aren’t pretty."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tiny managed to secure three horses for us in far less time than I would have thought possible. While he went to find us some supplies, Wirek and I got our packs secured.

  "Why isn’t this guy charging us anything?" I asked Wirek.

  Wirek tightened a strap on the underside of his chestnut-colored mare. "Said he’ll do it for the love of a good adventure. My guess is he gets tired seeing nothing but bar brawls. The chance to escort us up north must have made him happy."

  "Seems strange to me," I said.

  Wirek sighed. "Maybe he’s an adrenaline junkie like you."

  "I’m not an adrenaline junkie."

  "No?"

  I shook my head. "Any adrenaline I get goes along with the job."

  "But you don’t exactly shy away from it."

  "I don’t know if I can and still do my job."

  Wirek considered that. "Fair enough."

  "How come Tiny can’t go up there on his own any time he wants?"

  "Maybe because Lo Monthang isn’t exactly high on anyone’s list of must-see spots. No plumbing, no electricity-remember? It’s harsh living anyway you look at it."

  I let the subject drop. Tiny came sauntering back with a few sacks full of stuff that he secured to his own black horse. I noticed his kukri hung in a leather scabbard at his side. I noticed him looking at my bokken which I’d strapped across my back.

  "A wooden sword?"

  I shrugged. "It has its uses."

  He nodded. "Maybe you’ll find a reason to use it up north then, eh?" He looked at Wirek. "Are we ready?"

  "Yeah."

  Tiny nudged his horse. "Then let’s get going boys. Time’s wasting. And you’ve got a schedule to keep."

  Riding out of Jomsom was a lot less stressful than arriving had been. Tiny led us out on a well-worn trail that paralleled a range of flat-topped hills to our left. Vegetation seemed limited to some sparse shrubbery, small wispy trees and moss. I was grateful we were riding since breathing seemed to be giving me some trouble. Wirek must have noticed because he pulled in alongside me.

  "You’ll get used to the altitude within a day or so. Just bear in mind the closer we get to Lo Monthang, the higher in altitude we’ll be, so take it easy."

  "What about the horses? Do they suffer?"

  Tiny heard me and laughed. "They’re used to the route. I borrowed them from a merchant who treks all over the country. He promised they’d last us no problems." He patted the side of his leg where the kukri was strapped. "Besides, if they falter, we can always have fresh meat."

  I frowned. "Don’t think I’d be interested in horse meat, Tiny."

  He laughed again. "Let me tell you something, Mr. Lawson, you been in some of the places I’ve been and know what real hunger is, you’d relish a fresh course of horse meat."

  "I don’t know that horse would satisfy my appetite," I said.

  Tiny turned slightly in his saddle. "No. I see maybe it wouldn’t." He laughed again. "That’s okay. There is always food to eat along the way to Lo Monthang."

  I looked at Wirek again, but he was already lost in the landscape. I supposed he was seeing a lot of land that he’d traveled many years ago. Being here must have brought back a lot of memories.

  By two in the afternoon, we’d traveled a fair clip. Tiny knew the countryside inside out and led us off the well-worn trail and onto smaller ones that hadn’t seen nearly the amount of traffic the first trail had.

  "That one," he said pointing to the trail we’d just left. "It has too many trekkers on it. We haven’t seen any yet, but they will be there further up north. They get in the way." He nodded ahead. "This trail will get us to your destination faster and without the interruptions."

  Wirek nodded. "That’s good. We’re not interested in interruptions."

  "So, why are you both going to Lo Monthang?"

  The question came out of nowhere. Wirek and I hadn’t really agreed on much of a script. He’d told me before we went into Tiny’s bar that he’d do the talking, so I hung back and let him take the lead on this.

  "We want to see the temples, of course," he told Tiny.

  "You can see temples in Kathmandu," said Tiny.

  "Not like the temples in Lo Monthang," said Wirek. "My friend here," he sai
d pointing to me, "is interested in history and the temples up north are among the oldest in the country."

  "Mr. Lawson is a historian who carries a wooden sword on his back?" he chuckled and muttered something in Nepali. I looked at Wirek.

  "He said ‘foreigners always lie.’"

  I nodded. "What do you think we want to do up in Lo Monthang, Tiny?"

  He shrugged. "Maybe it’s not my place to ask the question in the first place. You hired me only to be your guide and that is what I will do." He smiled. "But maybe I also have an idea about your trip up north. After all, I did not stay alive so long in the Gurkha regiment by being stupid."

  "Tell us about the rumors, Tiny," said Wirek.

  Tiny nodded. "They started a few weeks ago. At first we dismissed them as some silly foreigner climber drunk on the atmosphere and altitude. They sometimes wander back from an aborted climb weird like that." He looked at me. "The altitude, it can do things to a man."

  He shrugged. "This one, though, he comes into my bar and tells us about bad weather on the outskirts of Lo Monthang. He had been trekking by himself – not smart this one – and the weather forced him to find shelter. He saw a cave and he entered it, not knowing where it led.

  "He told us that in the middle of the night – in the middle of a blinding snowstorm with thunder - that he heard strange voices from further back in the cave. He followed them, tripping over the stones in the dark, but then he saw a light ahead. What he discovered, he said, were people in flowing robes with what he said were the spirits flying around them."

  "Spirits?"

  Tiny nodded. "Like I said, probably drunk on the altitude. So we gave him some food and drink and sent him on his way back home to wherever he came from.

  "But then we started hearing other things from sherpas and merchants coming down from the north. They said that during the night, some of the party would be attacked by a creature they could not see. A creature that bit them. Drew blood, it did."

  Tiny kept his face forward. "The stories began to increase in number. So much so, that I know plenty of people who stopped journeying up there because of it. And you know, to make someone that scared, someone who makes their living from trading with the people up there, that they would not venture there anymore, well, I think Mr. Lawson and Mr. Wirek, that there must be something definitely evil living up there."

  He shrugged again. "Maybe it is the Yeti."

  "The abominable snowman?" I asked.

  Tiny nodded. "Maybe. But I think not. Yeti is not a violent creature like that. So I ask myself what it could possibly be. I’ve thought about it a great deal lately. And then two strangers come into my bar wanting to see about getting a guide for that place. And I think to myself maybe there is a good reason to go along on that trip. Maybe these strangers know what lives up there, what is scaring the people. And maybe it’s time for Tiny to take back down his knife and journey with them to defeat this evil creature."

  I doubted Tiny would be much help against Arvella and her followers. It sounded like they had the place pretty well sealed up.

  Wirek cleared his throat. "What about the monks that live in the temples up there? Has anyone heard from them?"

  Tiny nodded. "They say that during the day everything is fine. But at night the doors and windows of the temple are locked tight. And the townsfolk who live by the temples will not journey out after dark either. And they will not open the door for anyone even if they sound like they are in mortal danger."

  I frowned. It sounded like Arvella had the locals paralyzed with fear and she was sending out her followers to hunt at night. It was definitely strange for me to think about a community of vampires that still clung to the old ways. Most of the vampires in society nowadays had scorned the old hunts.

  But then again, we were in some seriously old country. And if Wirek had been correct in his assessment of Arvella, she was definitely interested in keeping the traditions alive. Even if it meant killing off the local human population.

  "You know," said Tiny. "It almost sounds to me like the yidam."

  That word struck a chord with me and I remembered Wirek said it was Nepali for vampire. Wirek laughed.

  "Vampires? Come one, Tiny. You don’t believe that, do you?"

  Tiny turned in his saddle again and pointed at me. "I’m not the one with the wooden sword." He turned back around and urged his horse forward. "Besides, I have seen plenty of things that most people would not believe. I am a very superstitious man and I have had good reason to be."

  "Seen a lot up here, have you?" I asked.

  "Nepal is an ancient land. She borders Tibet, China, India – some of the oldest land in the world. We have legends that no one else knows about. Except maybe the Yeti. Everyone knows about them."

  "Them?"

  Tiny shrugged. "Of course. They are a community of creatures like any other. They must have more than one to survive, you know?" He nodded. "I have seen them. Once, during a climb far up north on the Tibetan side of the mountains. I had crossed over illegally, not at the border crossing with the Chinese. But I had found my own way across. A pass that seemed almost invisible unless you stumbled on it as I did.

  "Part way through I came upon some tracks unlike any I had ever seen before. Bigger, far bigger, than a man’s foot with spread toes. I followed them for a long as I could before having to pitch camp for the night. While I huddled around a fire I’d been able to start underneath a rock overhang, I heard the cries. Such cries. Like an animal in pain. They howled above the roar of the wind filling me with fear. I drew my knife as the cries got closer. I thought for sure they must be coming to kill me. Perhaps I had encroached on their land and had not known it. The cries got closer but my eyes could not penetrate the darkness because of my fire.

  "And then the smell came to me. Such an awful smell, like unwashed yaks that have been covered in their own dung. Ungodly smell. It was awful. Then just outside the range of my vision, I sensed them moving. They seemed curious. I was terrified." He looked at us. "Believe me, I have faced many enemies with just my trusty knife and never been as scared as I was that night. I thought I would surely die."

  "What happened?"

  "I stayed standing throughout the entire night, waiting for their attack, waiting for them to kill me and drag me off to some unknown part of the mountains. There are places up there no one knows about where they would surely have left my body when they were through with it."

  He shrugged. "But they never attacked. In the morning, as the first rays of the sun came over the mountain tops, I could see them leaving. Furry, covered with hair. There were two of them that night. The tracks I found that morning confirmed it."

  "What did you do?"

  Tiny chuckled. "I had two choices: either follow the tracks and confront them or go home." He looked at us. "I went home. There comes a time when a warrior must acknowledge that he might be defeated by a better enemy than he. This was that time. The Yeti could have killed me that night. I was in their territory. But they didn’t. And I am very good at listening to warnings. Now I leave the Yeti alone and urge anyone with a desire to see them to do the same."

  Wirek whistled. "That’s a helluva story."

  "It was a helluva scare," said Tiny. "It certainly made me respect the things that don’t lend themselves to ordinary thought."

  Things that don’t lend themselves to ordinary thought. It was interesting concept. Wirek and I both belonged to that category. I wondered if Tiny knew that. Part of me sensed that he did. Another part chalked it up as just native suspicion about foreigners.

  Of course, wearing the bokken on my back probably didn’t help.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  "We’ll camp here for the night," Tiny announced a few hours later when the sun had begun its westward retreat across the sky. He led us into a shallow depression, a few yards off the winding trail we’d followed for most of the afternoon. Small tufts of grass blanketed the ground and several large boulder formed a protective border
.

  We dismounted. Tiny promptly disappeared to find some firewood. Wirek got out his map and confirmed that if we kept to the pace Tiny had set, we’d reach the outskirts of Lo Monthang in two more days.

  "It’s a tough schedule he’ll have us on, but we don’t have any choice."

  I nodded, getting the tent from Tiny’s horse. Wirek and I managed to get it up in a few minutes. Pronouncing it worthy of habitation, I slid our gear inside the flaps.

  "Lawson." Wirek motioned me over to his horse and withdrew the silver flask. "Quick, before he gets back."

  I took a much needed hit of juice and felt my strength wax again. It had been almost twenty-four hours since we’d last fed and both of us were in need of some sustenance. I passed it back to Wirek who had a long drag and then I took one more before he packed it away.

  "Gotta conserve," he said with a smile. "Otherwise, we might have to hit Tiny up for some."

  "Some what?"

  Tiny had reappeared suddenly from behind the horses.

  "Christ," said Wirek. "You’re one stealthy bastard."

  Tiny nodded. "It helped while I was in the army." He held up his arms. They were filled with short, broken up pieces of dried wood. "Got us enough for most of the night I should think."

  He dropped it to the side and took the horses over to a small outcropping of rocks, securing the reins to the largest boulder and let them graze awhile on the small lichens and scrub grasses that grew up between the cracks. Then he brought them a feed bag and scattered some among the horses.

  I gathered some rocks for a fire circle. I felt like a small child again, going camping for the first time. I wished this trip was that innocent.

  Tiny joined me. Together we found enough rocks for a large shallow circle. The Tiny dug out a pouch from inside his shirt.

  "Lint bag," he explained. "Gets the fire going faster."

  Sure enough he placed a small pile of furry threads into the center, built a small teepee of twigs around it and then a few thicker pieces around that. Then he took out his kukri and a piece of what I assumed was flint, struck it once aiming it perfectly into the lint. Within a few short seconds the spark caught to the lint, and licked its way through the twigs to the thicker branches. The crackling and popping of dry wood catching fire brought back more camping memories.