by Jon F. Merz
Wirek rubbed his shoulder. "Why are we here?"
The old monk smiled again. "I think you know why you are here. Otherwise you would not have trekked so far already, no?"
"I mean why did you kidnap us?"
"We didn’t kidnap you. We protected you," said the old monk. "Believe me. You would never have reached your goal if not for us."
Circumspect speech has a way of annoying me pretty fast. Especially after riding on the back of an animal all day long. "What are you talking about?"
"You must be tired," said the old monk. "Let me show you to your quarters. We can talk later."
Tiny started forward. "We should talk now-" He reached forward, trying to grab the old monk’s arm. But as he did, the monk simply turned so slightly, it barely looked like he moved at all.
But Tiny moved.
He found himself flying through the air and landing in a crumpled heap a few yards away. The old monk shook his head.
"Please refrain from trying that in the future." He turned back to Wirek and I. "This way, please."
Tiny got to his feet and brushed himself off, muttering a string of what must have been obscenities in Nepali.
The old monk led all three of us up a winding staircase that seemed to dissolve into the wall itself. A small doorway led inside.
Cool darkness enveloped us.
We stopped for a moment.
On all sides, giant statues of Buddha and various other Tibetan deities seemed to converge. One of them sat directly in front of us with a particularly fearsome scowl on his face. He held a strange looking sword in his right hand while the other hand clasped a coiled rope. The old monk paused to bow before it and then continued leading us along the giant passageway.
The scent of what smelled like myrrh filled the air and our footfalls hardly registered in the cavernous temple. Around us, in the deep shadows, we could see other monks tending to their duties. The temple appeared to have been carved right out of the very mountain itself.
Wirek came up next to me. "Man, this is weird."
I nodded. "Doesn’t seem like they mean to harm us, though."
Tiny harrumphed at that and rubbed his hip where he’d fallen. "You didn’t get thrown through the air. Did you see what he did? The monk never even touched me."
"He just turned at the right moment," I said. "I’ve seen techniques like that before, but he must be very advanced at his age. I wouldn’t screw around with him again."
"Yeah. One time is enough to convince me," said Tiny.
Ahead of us, the old monk turned and gestured to a wooden door. I opened it. Inside the room there were three beds. Our gear was in there as well. I was surprised and happy to see my weapons. Tiny nearly began sobbing when he saw his beloved kukri.
I turned to the old monk. "You must have a name. What should we call you?"
He smiled. "Lama Siben is fine. Or simply Siben if you prefer."
"Siben," I said. "Is that a title?"
He smiled. "Of sorts. It means chili, as in the pepper. A leftover name from my younger years. I think you Americans call it a nickname."
"You know we’re American?"
Siben shrugged. "I have good instincts." He pointed at Tiny. "Of course, he is not."
I nodded. "When can we talk?"
"Freshen up first. We will serve dinner in an hour. Afterwards, we can talk." He turned and glided back down the corridor until he vanished around a corner.
I turned back into the room and saw Wirek checking over his stuff. "Everything’s here," he said. "Nothing’s been taken."
I looked at Tiny. "What do you think the old man meant when he said we would never have gotten here on our own?"
Tiny shrugged. "I don’t know. Perhaps there was an ambush."
"Ambush?"
"It’s possible. If someone got word you and Wirek were in Nepal, they would have had plenty of time to set one up."
"Even on the route we took?"
Tiny grinned. "Only so many ways to get up here. Even for a guide like me, there’s only a few routes. Other people know them."
Damn. This might complicate our rescue attempt. Well, we’d deal with that shortly.
I glanced around. "I suppose running water is out of the question, eh?"
"Not quite," said Wirek pointing to another room in the back. "There’s a cold waterfall in there. You can use that." He grinned. "Probably shrink your balls up real fast, though."
"Such a comedian," I said. "Guess I’ll see how cold it is."
Cold turned out to be an understatement. Wirek wasn’t kidding. Stepping out from under the frigid waterfall, someone might have though my throat was swollen, but it was just my nuts.
Wirek and Tiny took turns getting washed up.
When we were finished dressing, a soft knock sounded on the door. I could see Tiny debating about trying to conceal the kukri on himself.
"Put it away," I said. "If they even thought it was a threat, you wouldn’t have it now."
He frowned but saw the logic. Reluctantly, he slid the kukri back into his pack.
I opened the door and Siben stood there. He smiled at us. "You all look refreshed."
"Thanks to the freezing cold shower you’ve got installed back there," said Wirek.
"You mean the water from the mountains."
I blinked. "That’s Himalayan melted snow we just bathed in?"
"Of course. In case you didn’t know, we don’t have many free- flowing rivers up here. The mountains provide the vast majority of our water."
"Does it flow in all of the rooms?" asked Wirek.
"No," said Siben. "We routed some off of our meditation chamber to our guest room here a few years back."
"Meditation chamber? You mean you meditate in the cold water?"
"Certainly. But we also meditate under the waterfall itself. It’s quite exhilarating." He gestured to the hall. "Your meal is this way."
We tagged along after him, but he always seemed just ahead of us. His flowing robes covered his feet so he almost seemed to levitate down the hardwood floors that had been built on top of the hard interior mountain rock underneath.
At last we came to room where a long rough hewn wooden table sat with several dishes on it. I sat down and saw some meat dishes, rice, and vegetables. I frowned and looked at Siben.
"I thought most monks were vegetarians."
"Most are." He smiled. "We are not."
Wirek was busy gnawing on what looked like a beef rib. Tiny was still examining his food. Siben produced a small flask from his pocket.
"You may also require this for your sustenance, I think."
Wirek’s eyes lit up when he saw his flask. "I’ll take that, thank you."
Siben handed it to him and then stepped back. "Am I right in assuming its contents are blood?"
For an old monk, he didn’t miss a trick. Wirek looked at me, but the hesitation may as well have been a giant affirmative. Nevertheless Wirek nodded.
"Yes."
Siben smiled. "Thank you for being honest with me. I appreciate that." He sat down, seemingly satisfied. He turned to me. "I wondered when we would see the arrival of your team."
"Team?" I stopped eating some of the rice. Wirek handed me the flask and I took a sip. "What do you mean?"
Siben’s perpetual grin wavered only slightly. "Ever since the occurrences began. We have waited for the one who would set the scales right again. You," he said pointing at me, "are that individual."
"What occurrences, exactly?" asked Wirek.
"The evil yidam that now hunt the local villages, of course. They are your kind, but evil." He raised an eyebrow. "We have known of your kind for hundreds of years. But we have respected your secrecy in much the same way we would want others to respect our privacy." He sighed. "But now this evil group has taken up residence here. They must be stopped. That is why you’re here, isn’t it?"
"Part of the reason, yes." I ate some of the beef.
Siben nodded. "Then allow me to explain
why it became necessary to ‘kidnap’ you as you called it." He looked up and suddenly a young monk entered the room bearing a steaming cup of what must have been tea. Siben took a small sip, thanked the monk who withdrew and then turned back to us.
"Your enemies have been aware of your movements and have followed you since you left Kathmandu."
"How?"
Siben shook his head. "We do not know exactly."
I shot Wirek a look. There was a good chance his borrowing of juice from that stabbing victim back in Kathmandu had raised the alarm.
Siben shook his head as if reading my mind. "I do not think it was due to any action you took in the city. If this group is as capable as they seem to be, they must surely have anticipated your arrival and set up watchers." He took another sip of tea. "Regardless, they knew you were heading this way. And they were prepared for you."
"An ambush?" asked Tiny.
Siben nodded. "You would not have gotten five miles further along the trail before you were trapped and killed. We realized what was happening and took the necessary steps to ensure your survival."
"How so?"
"By kidnapping you last night and secreting you in the midst of our caravan we were able to get past the ambush without arousing suspicion. Furthermore, a group of three volunteers from this gomba, this monastery, selflessly volunteered to pretend to be your party and trek off to the west of here in an attempt to throw off your ambushers."
"They’re posing as us?" asked Wirek.
"Yes, but they will not hold up to scrutiny if the ambushers decide to get close and investigate. But hopefully by then your mission will be done and over with, so the point is moot."
"What about the three monks posing as us?" I asked.
"If things go well they will return here."
"And if not?"
Siben shrugged. "They are quite skilled. And they have been instructed about the techniques necessary to kill your kind. Perhaps they will escape unharmed." He took a sip of tea. "Perhaps they will die."
That seemed rather callous to me and I said so.
Siben smiled. "We believe in reincarnation. Death is merely a temporary stop as the wheel goes around. And perhaps some of them will escape the wheel this time around. One never knows."
"But they’re sacrificing themselves for us – they don’t even know us."
"That is true, but they are prepared to sacrifice themselves for the cause. And in this case, the group that is inhabiting the old school your kind used to run up here must be destroyed. They are upsetting the harmony of this sacred region." He looked at me. "You-you must succeed in your task."
"You know about the school here as well?"
Siben smiled. "We know much of what goes on in this region. Our survival depends on it."
Wirek cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Siben, but would you mid telling us about your sect here? I traveled this way many years ago and never heard of you."
Siben nodded. "I would be disappointed if you had. We have endeavored to remain undetected for as long as possible." He leaned back and took another sip of his tea. "We are guardians of sorts, a sect that strives to protect the old ways of our ancient traditions. We are unlike many of our comrades in the more orthodox temples. We believe in physical perfection as much as mental and spiritual perfection. To that end we have sometimes been called warrior monks. When the Boddhisatva first visited this region thousands of years ago he brought with him certain physical exercises, what you would call martial arts. We still practice those ancient ways. Every day. Every one of us practices. Until we die."
"Amazing," said Wirek. He looked at Tiny. "So, the rumors are true."
Tiny nodded. "Apparently so."
"And you knew that we would be coming here?" I asked.
"Not in the concrete way you are thinking. But the universe does not unleash such an evil group as this without also releasing a counterbalance. We looked to the night sky and saw that you would be coming."
"You’ve been in Nepal a long time?" asked Tiny.
"We established this monastery many years ago. Some time later, we moved north to Tibet. When the Communists took over and began their systematic annihilation of our culture, we escaped, came back here, and resumed our way of life."
"Do you fight the Chinese?"
Siben smiled again. He seemed to do that a lot. "We do not struggle against the flow of a harmonious universe. We endeavor to help the flow of cosmic justice."
Tiny looked at me. "Well, that tells me absolutely nothing."
I waved him off. Human politics didn’t exactly concern me at that point. "What can you tell us about the group."
"They are led by a woman," said Siben. "And for one of your kind, she is remarkably powerful. She is able to call the spirits from their homes on other planes and bring them onto this plane with ease."
Wirek frowned. "You know a lot."
"We see a lot," said Siben. "And we have seen the fear of the villagers. Yet we have been powerless to stop them. We tried. Several of our brethren lost their lives in the attempt." He finished his tea. "We are glad that you are all here."
I leaned forward. "Have you seen a boy with this group?"
"A boy?" Siben frowned. "I have not heard anything about it. But I will check. We try to keep their activities under close watch without letting them know we are around. Tonight, I will hear what our scouts have to say and see if they have seen this boy you speak of."
"He’s not evil," I said. "We’re here to rescue him as well."
Siben nodded. "I understand." He stood. "Please. Finish your meal and then rest. Tomorrow, we can discuss your options. And hopefully, within a day we will be rid of this evil presence. Good night."
He disappeared out of the room leaving the three of us with the rest of our dinner. But I don’t think anyone felt much like eating.
I know I sure didn’t.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
We awoke to a fresh covering of snow blanketing every nook and cranny of the mud brick. Cool breezes stole through the gomba and tried to invade our room. But somehow the fire roaring in the hearth kept them at bay. I suspected monks had come into our room throughout the night to keep fresh wood on the fire.
Again, I’d heard nothing.
We bathed quickly. Quicker because the freezing water made you want to jump out of your skin as soon as it touched you. I longed for a long steamy shower back home in Boston. Just that thought alone reminded me of how truly far away from home Wirek and I were.
Siben waited for us outside the room and seemed happier today than yesterday I chalked that up to his unease at getting acquainted with a bunch of vigilante vampires. Even if he and the rest of the monks here knew about our kind, they might not necessarily be inclined to trust us.
But evil has a way of clotting unlikely allies. We might even form a tough scab. And hopefully, Arvella wouldn’t be able to pick us off before we could get to her and her cronies.
Personally, I wanted a little face time with Petrov. I had some evening up to do with that bastard.
"Did you sleep well?"
Actually, we all had. There seemed to be something about the monastery that made sleeping nice and easy, the way it should be.
Tiny stretched himself out some and yawned again. "What’s for breakfast?"
Siben demurred. "We don’t have much. Breakfast for us is usually just some fruit and a porridge. You’re welcome to some if you’d like."
We ate in the same room we had dinner in the night before which gave me the distinct feeling that as much as Siben was welcoming us here, he was also making sure we interacted as little as possible with the rest of the monastery’s inhabitants.
Not that I could blame him.
After all, we represented a serious threat to the sanctity of life here. Even though these were not your average monks, they were all still here for the common reason of seeking enlightenment, or some semblance thereof.
Add to that, the fact that we were vampires and I’m sure
it was all Siben could do just to keep us entertained and out of everyone else’s way.
After breakfast, we followed him out to a larger room where roughly twenty monks were engaged in a vigorous practice of martial arts. I stopped, enthralled by what I was seeing. Having been involved with various styles for years, I was a bit of a junkie when it came to researching and watching styles from days gone by.
Siben noticed my interest and stopped so I could watch for a few minutes. I heard Wirek sigh behind me and start explaining to Tiny what a freak I was for "this stuff."
I looked at Siben. "How old is the style?"
He frowned. "There are varying reports as to its age. Some say it came with the Boddhisatva himself almost two and a half millennia ago. Others say it is more recent, perhaps only as old as the fourteenth century."
"Six hundred some odd years is still a long time."
Siben nodded. "Indeed. There are many similarities between this and some of our older cousins to the north in China."
"It’s fascinating." I pointed to two of the students. "How long have they been training?"
Siben smiled. "Those two. They are brothers. We found them twelve years ago out in the mountains. We think they were with their parents crossing over from Tibet when they were attacked by brigands. The parents were killed, they were left for dead. We adopted them. They’ve been here ever since. And trained ever since."
"They look fantastic."
"They’re coming along," said Siben. He gestured down a long corridor. "We need to go there. Please."
We followed the corridor for almost five minutes before it suddenly opened out onto a vast vista of snow-covered mountains. Siben pointed to the east.
"That is Annapurna. She is magnificent."
Magnificent barely did it justice. The mountain zigged and zagged angling up toward the heavens. Snow and ice broke off like jagged knives thrusting brutally into the horizon.
My appreciation for the mountains ended when Tiny whistled. "What the hell is going on over there?"
I looked to where he pointed at a snow field closer to the monastery. A single monk sat in the middle of the snow, naked, except for what looked like wet sheets draped about his body.
