by D. H. Dunn
After the global wars wrought changes in the West, these same nations seemed less interested in maintaining their empire. New influences had come to Nepal, and with it, the fall of the Jang.
He would see that fixed. It was his life’s mission now, to undo the plans of Westerners like Drew Adley, but to do so he needed power and leverage. Yesterday, that power and leverage had been in the form of paper. Now it would be in the form of a beast, an animal with gifts like none the world had seen.
He needed this creature Adley had discovered. He’d track it by following the American and his Sherpa friends, and along the way he’d recover his papers.
Once he had the beast, this Yeti as Shamsher had called it, he would guard it like the treasure it was. A fool might sell it quickly or try to become rich by displaying it, but Jang was no fool, and he knew the value of patience.
Within a few years he’d have the Jang Dynasty back in power, but he would be Gagan Magar no more. He would truly be a Jang, part of the Dynasty itself. That would be part of the deal, the reward for his leverage.
“I can still hit them from here,” Adesh said, training his rifle scope on the figures. Jang doubted the man could, even with his reputation as a marksman, but he could not risk it. Couldn’t have Adley get away when such a great opportunity had presented itself. They’d have to go up after them, at least into the Icefall to get a better shot.
“No. Get the ladders and the gear,” he said. “We will climb after them.”
“But the Icefall―” started Madhud. Jang whirled on him, his finger quickly in the larger man’s face.
“If they can make it, Madhud, then so can we. I don’t care about magic or demons. If you want your families out of debt, then you will get up that mountain. They are slow and tired, they’ve been on the go for almost a full day. We will pursue them now, while their trail is easy to follow.” The two Nepalese men nodded quickly, and if they had any further commentary they kept it to themselves.
Shamsher stayed behind, moving closer to Jang, the man’s large bulk blocking out the light and casting Jang in shadow. Shamsher’s face was flat, his hands twitching. “To climb Chomolungma, we should have a lama perform a puja, to bless our equipment and not offend the goddess.”
Jang stepped closer to the big Sherpa, deeper into the dark shade created by the man. He looked up at him, his lips pulled back over his teeth as he smiled. “How long has your family worked for mine, Shamsher?”
“I am not sure. Fathers and grandfathers, mothers and grandmothers. Sisters, uncles, brothers.”
“That is right. Your family will be a good and trusted one with the Jang. You want the dynasty back in power just as I do. It will be good for your family, get them back to their place in the royal houses, right?”
“Yes. Yes, that would be good for them, good for Nepal. As you have told me,” Shamsher said, nodding.
“Then this is what we need to do. I am sure Chomolungma wants your family to be safe, and she will forgive the offense.”
Shamsher nodded glumly and joined the others at the back of the truck unloading equipment.
Listening to the men working behind him, Jang took a moment to look past the creaking Khumbu to the higher reaches of Everest, the summit lost in the cold clouds. A dagger of ice and rock, piercing the cold blue of the sky.
Jang was not concerned with Chomolungma’s feelings. The answers to restore his life were scrambling up the mountain right now. Adley and the Sherpas. The two Westerners. Cold, tired, and vulnerable.
He would have them, and they would lead him to his prize.
6
“Because it is there.”
—George Mallory
November 2, 1951
Just beyond the Khumbu Icefall, Nepal
Wanda stood at the edge of the great valley between the mountains, the ashes of her hopes and dreams blowing away in the snow around her.
Just ahead, Drew chased after a distant Nima. The Sherpa woman was racing through the remainder of the Icefall like a demon herself, intent on pursuing the incredible creature that had taken her brother.
Drew and Wanda were following as best they could, with Carter limping along behind them.
All her plans had gone sour, all her hopes of completing her father’s work were now lost here in Everest’s shadow. Somewhere in front of her lay the power he had sought, yet all she saw was ice, snow, and well-intentioned fools.
Wanda’s anger powered her legs forward, her rage keeping her warm and moving. Yet she had no idea where to go, what to do. Nima’s family’s feud with this man Jang had cost her everything. Now they were trapped above the Icefall with only the mountains and a Yeti ahead of them, and a madman behind.
She trudged along, to where Drew was talking to Nima. The Sherpa was hunched over and looked exhausted. She glanced back to look for their pursuer, but the angle of the mountain kept Jang hidden. In the distance behind her, Carter slowly plodded along after them. Wanda looked away, feeling no desire to help this keeper of her father’s secrets.
Nima’s and Drew’s discussion was carried to her on the wind that roared down into the valley. “We’ve got to get Pasang!” Nima yelled.
Wanda was now close enough to see the woman’s gloved fists shaking as she shouted. She was kneeling in the deep snow while Drew stood over her.
There was no sign of the fantastic creature which had taken Pasang, the Yeti’s amazing ability to relocate had moved it swiftly out of their view. Wanda felt a moment of pity for Nima. Losing a sibling was something she knew all too well.
“We will get him, little sister!” Drew’s voice. They were close enough now for Wanda to see Drew had knelt as well and was holding Nima’s gloved hands. She reached the shouting pair, neither taking their eyes off each other.
“Look at me, Nima! We will get Pasang, but not like this! You can’t help him if you’re dead!”
Drew pointed off to a large field of snow to their right which angled toward the Icefall. Beyond it, the mountains of Nupste and Lhoste rose into the morning sky, unconcerned with the worries of lost brothers or dead dreams.
“That field is ready to go,” Drew said. “Ready to avalanche. You run across that and you might go with it!”
“What do we do then?” Nima rose, tears in her eyes. “Wait for the Yeti to go farther?”
“Trail of blood.” Carter’s voice rasped in the cold air as he limped up to them. Wanda whirled, startled by the old man’s arrival.
Carter had closed the distance between them faster than Wanda thought possible, but she supposed her mind could be tricking her. He pointed off to their left, where Wanda could now make out a thin line of red dotting the snow, partially covered by Everest’s shadow.
“Could have waited . . .” Carter wheezed, hunching over, “. . . waited for an old man.”
“Blood!” Nima was on her feet, brushing the snow off her legs. “It could be the Yeti’s! We will follow it and―”
A crack rang out through the air, and a small explosion of snow erupted higher up the valley toward Lhoste.
Wanda dropped to the ground, instincts borne of darker days coming back to her as if no time had passed. She pulled the still-standing Carter down into the snow alongside her, where he landed with a grunt. Drew and Nima were already down, having at least the sense to drop prone as she had. She knew little of glaciers or Yeti, but she knew the sound of gunfire all too well. Wanda peered down the valley toward the Icefall below. There, on one of the taller lower tiers she could make out four figures moving about on a broad platform of ice. There was a small flash from one of the men below, a second crack above them coming a few seconds later.
“Not very good shots, are they?” Carter rasped from his place next to her.
“I don’t think they are aiming at us,” Wanda said. This Jang seemed too clever and determined to hire someone with accuracy that poor.
“No!” Nima shouted. “They are trying to bring the snow down on us. That field over there is ready to slide
!”
“Idiots,” Drew’s voice was just audible over the sound of another shot. “They’re right in the path of that thing―it’d head right to the Icefall.”
Wanda punched the snow, her rage no longer something she wished to keep in check. She did not come this far and get this close to her father’s goals just to die. Not like this.
She stood, the wind whipping her red hair into her eyes. Pulling her revolver from her pocket, she pointed the weapon at the same area of snow Jang’s men were targeting. The others yelled, but she did not hear them. In this moment, there was no sound, no cold, no wind. There was only Wanda and her purpose. Praying to her mother’s and sisters’ ghosts for luck, she pulled the trigger.
“Wanda!” Drew shouted, his eyes wide in shock. “What are you―”
The ground began to shake, knocking her from her feet. The rumbling of the building avalanche drowned out Drew’s remaining words. The only sound Wanda heard over the thunder of the descending snow was Nima’s scream.
“Brace!”
Wanda flipped onto her stomach, pulled her ice ax from her belt, and jammed it into the snow. Around her, the mountainside shook as if a hundred trains were roaring by, and she waited for the inevitable push, the feeling of being picked up by a wave of winter, her body smashed against whatever rocks Nima’s mountain gods might deep appropriate.
The push never came. The shuddering dissipated along with the rumbling as the descending field of snow rolled by them, but left the group untouched.
She knelt in the snow and pivoted on her knees to look back down the valley.
At the top reaches of the Icefall, a cloud of snow still hung in the air to mark the passage of tons of rock and ice. The furrowed depths of the glacier were altered slightly, some crevasses once dark with shadows were now filled in with a pristine coat of white.
Of Jang and his men, there was no sign.
Carter groaned next to her, the old man slowly pushing himself to his knees. A few meters away, Nima was helping Drew to his feet.
The American glared at Wanda, his face red. “Dammit, Wanda!” Drew yelled. “You could have got us all killed! There could have been another way. We could . . .”
Drew’s voice faded as a flare of light caught Wanda’s eye, an explosion of color just over his shoulder. She looked past him, Nima gasping as she followed her gaze.
There in the remains of the snow field, a stone wall had been uncovered by the avalanche. Blazing upon its surface in the morning sun, was a far-off oval of light and energy.
She gasped. Papa’s gateway!
It was a circular explosion of golden flame and arcing lightning, luminous sparks flying from its interior. It was little bigger than a doorway, yet it was brilliant enough to resemble a second sun rising on Everest. Pushing out waves of energy like a tide, it kicked up the ice and debris around it in a maelstrom.
Wanda’s heart felt like it might burst from her chest, joy and adrenaline mixing inside her. Her blood felt like electricity, her mind a racing machine. It was here, here all along! Oh, Papa, you were right.
There was a flash of lavender energy about half the distance between the magical portal and where they all stood gasping. The Yeti materialized suddenly with the unmoving form of Nima’s brother under one arm.
“Pasang!” Nima screamed, kicking up a cloud of snow as she launched herself toward the beast and the circular eruption of magic beyond it.
The spell broken, Wanda began to run as well, the words of her father’s message echoing through her mind.
Come to me on Everest and seek the Under. There is the key to saving our homeland. Somewhere inside that blazing, golden impossibility of light and power lay her ultimate goal, the one her father had begged her to complete from beyond his grave. It was a risk, a chance.
A gift.
Her boots pounded through the snow, Wanda still one step ahead of her failure.
Nima gasped for breath as she ran, pulling frigid air into her lungs in huge, labored efforts. With every step her legs and arms cried for relief, each joint and muscle burning with pain. She was beaten, exhausted beyond anything she could ever remember feeling.
But her body and her pain did not matter. She pushed on.
Behind her, Drew yelled for her to come back, to wait. She could feel his concern for her, his love. Most times Drew made her feel safe, protected. Over the past few months he had become family, one of the most important people in her life. A friend, a brother.
Yet in this moment, Drew did not matter either.
The voice in her head belonged to her Ama’s ghost, an ever-present source of doubts and criticisms. Nima was too heavy, too slow. She would not be fast enough to catch up. It was Nima’s fault Pasang had been taken, her fault Jang had been able to trick her father. All of this was her fault, and she was sure to fail.
Ama’s ghost mattered least of all.
All that mattered was the white-furred form in front of her, and the unmoving orange-clad body it held under one arm.
The Yeti was hurt, it looked nearly as exhausted as Nima. More than once it had to use its free arm to keep moving as it lumbered toward its goal, this spectacle of magic and sorcery that had opened before them.
The golden circle blazed in front of the Yeti as the beast rushed toward it. Wedged into the side of the mountain, Nima was now close enough to feel the effects of the revealed portal and she wondered at its visage. It was a sight that would have enchanted her grandfather, a spectacle pulled from one of his amazing tales of myths and legends.
The lights and colors were everywhere at once, the pulses of energy pushed out from the gateway and were visible in the air, waves that moved the snow around Nima as she and the Yeti raced forward.
Arcing from the outside of the golden ring, small shocks and fingers of lightning danced along the surface of the stone. Some even took to the air, floating in the wind before dissipating. In the center of the ring, the colors swirled together like a vortex, the direction of the rotation alternating with each pulse.
The Yeti put on another burst of speed, the snow flying from its feet as it pounded toward the circle, ripples of energy radiating into the air around it.
It looked over its shoulder at Nima with an expression she recognized. It was fear; it was running from her.
Pasang flopped along in its arm, unconscious, but Nima believed he was alive. He had to be, Chomolungma would not allow such an evil to happen here, not to Nima who was so respectful of her.
The Yeti kept running, as though it was counting on Nima’s fear, hoping to escape where she would be afraid to follow. But Nima’s fear didn’t matter, not when someone she loved was at risk. There was no gateway, no magic, no obstacle she would not cross.
With a final leap, the Yeti passed directly into the pulsing disc of energy. The golden lightning that surrounded the gateway rippling across its white fur, dancing on Pasang’s orange coat and dark hair.
Then they were gone, leaving only the portal, and Nima, behind. The glowing swirl of color and sorcery was only a few steps away now, the pulses pushing warmly against her skin as the arcs of energy licked and poked at her.
A few more steps.
Maybe it led to a world of demons, a world of Yetis who were waiting to tear Nima to ribbons. Perhaps it would bring her to a world of magic and legends, such as those her Pagaga had spoken of while a little Nima sat on his knee.
Maybe it only led to death.
Her mother would tell her that was right, that her death waited for her on the other side of this impossible ring of fire; death and demons and nightmares.
She knew it wasn’t true. She knew Chomolungma wouldn’t do that to her. Chomolungma might be a goddess, but they were both sisters of the mountains.
Nima was going to get her brother back.
Nothing else mattered.
Nima leapt into the ring of light and flame and her world vanished away.
7
“A mountain is not like men. A mountain
is sincere.”
—Walter Bonatti
Time passed after entering the portal, Nima was certain of it. She remembered chasing the Yeti and leaping into the swirling gateway, energy crackling all around her. After that, her memory stayed out of reach, as if there was a wall of ice between herself and her mind, allowing blurred shapes but no details. She drifted in and out of consciousness, slowly becoming aware of the dirt beneath her.
Small pebbles and stones pushed against her cheek, dust tickled her nose. The dirt was cool, but not cold. Nothing was like it should be. She was warm, sweating even, bundled up as she was. The air was thick with oxygen, the humid air filling her lungs as it soothed her sore limbs and joints.
Nothing was as it should be.
Pasang! He was here, that creature had taken him!
She sat upright, her stomach lurching immediately. Her eyes were assaulted by a spinning mixture of colors and gray stone. Bolts of pain shot through her head, a pulsing throb that only relented when she lay back down and closed her eyes.
Her mind quickly brought up her last image of her brother, thrown over the Yeti’s shoulder as it vanished. Her heart urged her to get moving, but her pain won the battle and forced her to lie in quiet frustration.
Her brother was here, wherever she was. Inside Chomolungma she supposed. Perhaps the goddess was helping her reach him after all. She needed to find him, but she needed to take things slow.
Wherever this was, it was where the Yeti went, too, she was sure of it.
The pain in her temples receded slightly as she willed her racing heart to slow. She could not help Pasang if she could not stand.
Steady, Nima, she reminded herself. Racing into the snow only drops you into a crevasse.
She forced herself to take deep breaths of the warm air, counting as she allowed her lungs and ribs to expand. Exhaling the tension, she embraced the calm that slowly spread through her. Whatever existed here on this side of the portal, she would find a way to handle it.
