by Nick Carter
Two of Ghotak's men flanked me and I was led outside as the crowd streamed out the other exits. I caught a glimpse of Khaleen with Hilary beside her, as I was led past the assembly hall, past an area of spare trees and rocks to where two pits had been hollowed out of the ground. Each pit was square, roughly ten by ten feet and five feet deep. The crowd had gathered on the sloping ground surrounding the pits, nudging each other for a spot to see. Some climbed into the trees for a better view. Ghotak faced me at the edge of the nearest pit.
"You have weapons?" he asked. "Please give them to me." I glanced about and saw Khaleen and Hilary nearby. I went over to Khaleen and handed her the Luger and the stiletto. Her eyes were deep and sad.
"I am praying for you, Nick," she murmured.
I debated whether to tell her to blow the snake's head off if it was getting to me, but I knew at once it was a foolish thought. She'd never hit the thing, and if I had to use the weapon I'd lose at the same time I won. I was about to turn away when Hilary's voice cut through the air.
"You gone absolutely balmy?" she asked crisply. "Whatever it is you think you're doing, call it off at once. You'll bloody well get yourself killed, that's all."
I saw her eyes were deep and concerned, her brow furrowed.
"For the first time, I like you, Hilary, honey," I grinned at her. "But once again I've got to tell you to butt out."
"Butt out my ruddy ass," she exploded. "Don't be a bloody fool, Yank. It's suicide. You're no damned mongoose."
"You never know, doll," I grinned. "And being a bloody fool's part of my job."
I turned, strode to the pit and jumped down into it just as two of Ghotak's men arrived carrying a wicker basket with a cover. They took off the cover and dumped the basket's contents into the pit. I saw the cobra come out and hit the ground, hissing furiously. He was big, some nine feet, I guessed. He was up in an instant, his hood spreading ominously. I moved slowly, circling to the right. The cobra's darting eyes followed me, his tongue flicking out almost too quickly to see. I saw him stretching up higher. I knew what it meant. A snake can strike the full distance of his length uncoiled in the air. He was rearing up to get as much distance as he could in his strike. I stayed on the balls of my feet, bending my body to the right, then the left as he swayed back and forth. I knew he would have me if I let him strike first. I had to draw his strike in order to have any chance of avoiding it. I lifted my right hand slowly, shot it out and the snake struck, lunging through the air with a lightning-like move. I flung myself to the left and felt his fangs snap the air. I landed on my side, rolled over against the wall of the pit and regained my feet. The cobra was rising upward again, that damned evil hood flattened out. I moved forward and he struck again, a whip lashing out, and I fell backwards to avoid his fangs. I felt the sleeve of my shirt rip open as one fang caught the fabric.
The cobra had hit the gorund after the strike and this time, instead of rising up instantly, he snaked his way across the pit with amazing speed. I dodged to one side and the snake lunged again but this time he was not ready for a proper strike, and the blow fell short. He curled and rose up again and I faced him from the other side. I thought about trying to feint him out of position and then dive in to seize him by the neck. A half-hearted attempt at a feint drew a lunge so swift it was little more than a blur and once again I twisted away and leaped backwards, crashing into the wall of the pit. His fangs had ripped the back of my shirt open as though a razor had cut it.
I circled again, feinted, and the snake struck out with that lunging motion. This time his fangs caught the surface of my skin, enough to leave a mark though not enough to break the skin, but I saw one thing; he was coming closer each time. My reaction time was bound to slow, and it would do so faster than his strikes would slow. It would be just a matter of time unless I came up with something better. He was weaving again, lining me up for another strike. I was near the wall of the pit with precious little maneuvering room. I began to dodge from one side to the other but I knew all I was doing wouldn't do much to distract his aim. He poised straight up for an instant and then struck again. I was really lucky this time because I was drawing away as he lunged and once more the deadly fangs ripped into the sleeve of my shirt. The snake recoiled at once and rose up again to strike. I knew one thing. I couldn't stay still. To stay in one spot was to make death a certainty. I couldn't give him time to line up. As he swayed, that evil tongue flicking out in lightning-like motion, I began to leap from one side to the other, careening off each wall in a kind of three-sided ballet step. The cobra lunged and lunged again and each time he missed my body with fractions of an inch to spare.
Finally, I had to stop. I was in a cold sweat and my breath was coming in gasps. I paused, and the damned cobra struck again. I fell backwards and felt its fangs sink into the fabric of my trousers. They ripped down as I fell away. It was no use, I saw, scrambling to my feet. My reflexes were going as I tired, and the cobra was as lightning-fast as ever. He moved forward on the ground and I backed away, pushed off one wall and found a little added room as he turned and rose into the air. The shredded sleeve of my shirt hung loosely from my arm and as it blew against my skin I suddenly had a thought, a desperate, last-chance kind of thought. I backed against the wall, out of range for a moment, and ripped off my shirt. Holding it out before me as a bullfighter holds out his red muleta to the bull, I advanced slowly. The cobra swayed higher, his hood spread out to its fullest. I shifted the shirt back and forth. He waited a moment and then struck, his fangs tearing into the shirt. For a brief moment, hardly more than a second, his fangs were entangled in the fabric. I leaped forward, wrapping both sleeves of the shirt around the snake's head, twisting the fabric around the death-dealing mouth and head. The cobra twisted and writhed in the air, lashing his tail out in fury. I seized the tail end of the snake and started to whirl the serpent in a wide arc, letting centrifugal force keep his body stretched out almost in a straight line. Even then, he was ripping his way through the fabric around his head. I swung hard and slammed him against one wall. The shirt wrapped around his head deadened the impact but it was nonetheless enough to momentarily stun him. I swung the snake again, this time slamming him into the ground. I dropped the tail end and brought my foot down, as hard as I could, on the cobra's head, now almost free of the shirt.
Fear and anger surged inside me as I stomped on the snake's head, crushing it into the ground, stomping and grinding until the soil was stained red. I finally halted. The deadly killer still twitched in post-death nerve spasms, but I was taking no chances. Carefully, using the toe of my shoe, I rolled the serpent over and saw that its head was truly ground into a flattened, lifeless object. I looked up and there was silence and a multitude of faces staring down at me. It was over, and I was alive. I felt my hands quivering. Moving backwards, I leaned against the wall of the pit as a cold sweat suddenly enveloped my body. Hands were reaching down to me. I grabbed two and was pulled out of the pit. Death, horrible death, had flashed by me, and I looked down at the lifeless body of the cobra. My stomach was suddenly in knots and the little pit was a place I'd long remember. But I wasn't finished yet I looked around and found Ghotak standing a few feet away, his face impassive, though I could read the fury behind it. Yet angry as he was, he was smooth enough to carry through.
"Karkotek has spoken," he intoned, spreading out his arms. "The foreigner spoke the truth. He did not kill the snake."
"And I'll tell you more," I cut in, shouting to the crowd. "I shall go into the mountains this night. I shall do what the patriarch Leeunghi did and I shall return. I will prove to you there is no yeti and that Ghotak does not speak for the spirit of Karkotek. Karkotek does not want you to open your land to the newcomers. When I return you shall know the truth."
Ghotak shot me a frown. I'd taken him offstride again. This time it was he who had to go along.
"The temple bells will summon you tomorrow," he said to the crowd. "Once more Ghotak's word has been challenged and once more th
e spirit of Karkotek must answer. The snows in the mountains will run red again, mark my words."
I walked away and the crowd began to slowly disperse. Khaleen handed Wilhelmina and Hugo back to me, and Hilary Cobb stood by watching Khaleen press herself against my side. I caught her quick glance.
"That was bloody well done," she said. "Why are you pressing your luck?"
"Meaning exactly what?" I asked.
"Meaning why go into the mountains tonight?" she asked. "Despite what I just saw, you're not invincible. Nobody is."
"She is right, Nick," Khaleen said. "I am afraid for you. Do not go."
"I must," I replied. "First of all, he took up the challenge and I can't back down now. But more important, it may force him into a direct, open move. I've got to come to grips with him. We're running out of time. I've got to get to him before he gets to me."
"The yeti will kill you as he killed my father," she said tonelessly. I exchanged glances with Hilary over Khaleen's head.
"Forget the yeti, Khaleen," I said. "He won't lay a hand on me. Or should I say paw?" I grinned down at her and she turned aside, — serious and unsmiling.
"Yeti or no yeti," Hilary cut in, "you're setting yourself up as a sitting duck. I don't like it at all."
There was real deep concern clouding her blue eyes and I grinned at her. "Careful, Hilary," I laughed. "You're sounding positively sentimental."
"Do you have to joke about everything?" she snapped at me, her eyes mirroring a sudden hurt.
"It helps," I said, and I held her eyes with mine. "But thanks, anyway," I added, softly. "I appreciate your concern. It shows that beneath the never-say-die journalist there might be a girl."
"Go to hell," she snapped and walked away. I laughed and went on with Khaleen.
Chapter VI
Khaleen had lain her small, warm form beside me on the bed as I rested. It was late afternoon when I finally awoke, and I felt rested and refreshed. I was also filled with the edgy anticipation that always swept over me when I felt I was getting into direct action against the main problem, in this case Ghotak. I had thrown him another direct challenge, and I knew he had to answer it. His luck had been phenomenal but I knew he couldn't count on another bear or snow leopard doing me in. He would have to bring some insurance himself, and I'd be ready and waiting for him. Khaleen helped me get my gear together and she clung to me at every opportunity. She had only the silken robe on, and I could feel the softness of her beneath the gown.
"Come back to me, Nick," she breathed as I started to leave, her slender arms around my neck. I looked deep into her eyes and saw again the things I dared not see. Her eyes were the eyes of a woman in love, and that was bad. Not for me but for her. I hoped, silently, that it was really emotional upset, fear, and gratitude, and would disappear once all this was over. I looked back at her small form in the doorway as I headed out. I saw a terrible resignation in her eyes and I knew she didn't believe I would return.
I waved and trudged on, supremely confident I'd not only return but hoping I'd have the pelt of whatever the hell strange creature had slain her father. I had the Marlin 336 slung over my shoulder. It could blast a hole in an elephant and could certainly handle leopard or bear. The blue-gray light of dusk was already beginning to gather as I reached the narrow pass that led up into the mountains. I had decided to follow the same trail the old man had taken and camp pretty close to the same spot I was not halfway there when darkness started to close in, and the wind began to howl in its eerie, bone-chilling wail. The mountains, with their fangs of ice and jaws of yawning crevasses, were as real an enemy as any other. One misstep and Ghotak would have his victory without lifting a finger. On my back was a pack made up mostly of heavy blankets, some food and water, and a small first-aid kit. I was only figuring on a one-night stand, so there was no reason for extra equipment.
I moved slowly, cautiously. The night had turned colder, and the sky was overcast and starless. I felt snow in the air. Fingers aching from cold that penetrated even the warmest gloves, my face tight and reddened, I laboriously pulled my way upwards, grateful for every few feet of rocky ledge. I'd reached the ledge where the old man had camped and decided to move higher, where I could dimly discern a wider ledge. I reached it, finally, and was glad I had. It was somewhat protected from the worst of the wind and was part of a series of small, mountain plateaus. Moreover, there were enough scrub trees to gather ample wood for my fire. I set up camp, putting the pack down against the rock wall that towered up at my back, and started a small but warming fire. In its light, I could see that the area was riddled with tall, vertical crevices, deep ribs in the rock, and towering above me, jutting out over my head, was a huge overhang of snow-covered rock. The small ledge of the plateau led upwards, curving out of sight, and I didn't bother to investigate how far it wound its way up. I wasn't going any farther than this. With the Marlin at my side, the fire in front of me, I leaned back against the rock wall and listened to the chilling wail of the wild wind as it whistled through the mountains. The hours dragged by, and I undid my small packet of food. I'd brought a tin cup and some packets of instant coffee. With water made from melted snow, it wasn't half bad. At least, up there with the icy winds mounting in fury, it tasted downright marvelous. I was just putting away die other packets I'd brought when I heard a noise, the sound of someone or something approaching along the ledge.
I grabbed the Marlin and pushed away from the fire, crouching just outside the circle of light. The visitor was coming closer and then I saw the form, a dark bulk in the night, moving carefully toward the fire.
"Hello, Yank," the figure said. "Are you there? I can't see you."
I almost dropped the Marlin and I shook my head and looked again. I wasn't seeing things. The figure was there, now beside the fire, looking about I got up and walked toward the fire.
"What in hell are you doing up here?" I demanded angrily. "Are you out of your damned head?"
"Don't get excited, old boy," she answered, flashing a somewhat frozen smile. "I'm not staying here."
"You're damn right you're not," I exploded. "You're getting the hell back to the village."
"Oh, no," she said. "I'm camped just around the bend and down a ways. You can't see my fire from here but I can see the glow from yours. I decided that if you've come up here it must be important, and therefore it's important to me. Or, I should say, to my story. Besides, I've as much right as you do to go mucking around in these mountains."
"You and your damned story," I said. "You could have gotten yourself killed just getting up here."
"Nonsense," she retorted. "I'll wager I've done more skiing and mountain hiking than you have. But I just stopped up to see if you've any tea. I forgot to pack some when I left, and I'm a bit thirsty."
I put the Marlin down, looked at her, and shook my head in resignation.
"Go on back, Hilary," I said. "I can't be worrying about you and looking out for you. If there's trouble I'll have my hands full just staying alive myself."
"I didn't ask you to look out for me," she said. "Maybe I'll look out for you. Now, if you have any tea I'll be getting back to my camp."
"Coffee," I said, growling the word at her.
"Then it'll have to be coffee," she said. I handed her two packets of the instant coffee and she nodded politely.
"Thanks terribly, old boy," she said. "Call me if you need me."
She turned and walked down the ledge, disappearing around the corner. I went after her and halted at the corner. In the dark night she had already disappeared but I could hear her making her way down the snow-covered cliffs. I saw her fire now, from the corner vantage point. She had camped on another ledge a few hundred feet down and over from me. I stood watching and finally saw her figure appear beside the fire. I watched for a few moments as she brewed her coffee and then turned back to the warmth of my own fire. A few minutes from the fire, and I found myself walking stiffly, the icy cold seeping through my clothes, driven by the tremendous winds
at the unprotected corner of the ledge. I sat down by the fire and found myself smiling as I thought of Hilary Cobb. Damn, you had to admire her dogged determination. She said she was going to sit on my tail until she got a story and she was doing just that. I was sorry that I had to see to it that her story was never filed. I smiled again. She'd have little to show for this night except a damned uncomfortable memory, unless Ghotak showed up. Somehow, I was beginning to think he was backing away from direct action. I got my blanket out, a thick, wool robe, covered my legs with it, rested the Marlin 336 across my lap and closed my eyes. The fire, with some fresh wood on it, would keep me warm till dawn, probably. I fell into a half sleep, my body more asleep than awake, my senses more awake than asleep.
The hours slipped by, and only the wind's cry broke the silence. A few times I snapped my eyes open at a sound only to listen and hear it was but the cracking of ice or the sliding of a snow ledge. The sky was dark, and snow had begun to fall, still light and not much more than flurries. I closed my eyes and continued to rest in half-awake watchfulness. Gray dawn was beginning to tint the sky and the mountain peaks stood out as dark shapes, the jagged teeth of some mythological giant. I was looking at them through nearly closed lids when I heard the screams, first Hilary and than a bone-chilling half roar and half scream. I leaped up, the Marlin in hand, bounded right through my smoldering campfire, and raced to the edge of the ledge. I could see down into her campsite plainly. She was racing across the small plateau, falling on the ice, and behind her, on two legs, was a creature out of hell, a demon from some ancient mythology, something which couldn't exist. Long gray-white hair covered its body. It had a sub-human face, clawed hands and clawed feet. It stood erect, nearly seven feet, I guessed, its nakedness covered by the ape-like grayish hair. I saw it reach a gigantically long arm down and seize the girl's jacket, lifting her from behind as one would a child.
I took aim with the Marlin but he or it was swinging the girl up in front of him. I couldn't get a clear shot but I decided that a shot, anywhere, just for the effect, would be better than nothing. Racing down the steep, icy pathway, I got off two blasts and saw the creature stop, drop the girl and look up toward me. I was on my way down to the plateau, unable to stop my sliding, slipping, falling descent. I had all I could do to hang onto the rifle and not break my neck. The creature let out another fantastic screaming roar, and as I landed at the plateau, it loped off in the other direction. I ran after it, lifting the rifle as I ran, and got off a shot. The bullet creased its shoulder and it turned in fury and pain. I stopped to get off another shot but as I did, my foot went out from under me on a stretch of snow-covered ice. I fell backwards, the rifle skittering off to one side.
