Jake Atlas and the Quest for the Crystal Mountain

by Rob Lloyd Jones

  Let’s not do this. Let’s find the chorten and rebuild the monastery. Let’s find another way to stop the People of the Snake.

  The words were right on my lips, but the soldier barked at us again and Tenzin and his dad broke up their farewell. Tenzin’s dad grabbed a bottle from the dashboard and climbed out of the truck. He yelled to the soldier that the truck had broken down, and lifted the boot to check the engine. With his back to the guard, he poured water on the engine’s hot pipes so that a plume of steam billowed up and across the street.

  Tenzin threw open the door and we leaped out, hidden by the steam as we darted behind rocks by the road. We waited, checking the coast was clear. The soldier had joined Tenzin’s dad, leaning over the engine as they argued about what was wrong.

  “Now,” I whispered.

  We raced over the rocks and uphill through the snow. We didn’t look back; we just prayed we would make it to the top. We finally stopped beneath a mesh of prayer flags at the pass, wheezing from the high-altitude sprint.

  “Did they see us?” Tenzin spluttered.

  “I don’t think so. I—”

  It was as if all my breath had been suddenly sucked away. I stood and stared.

  The valley below us was shaped like a crater, and covered by a huge, frozen lake – a near-perfect circle bordered all the way round by snow-covered mountains. On the far side, a steep snow slope rose to the base of a mountain so much larger than the others that it stuck out like a sore thumb. It towered above them, black and white and bulbous, with a rounded top plunging to sheer sides that looked impossible to climb.

  This was it. We’d arrived.

  “Kailas,” I gasped.

  32

  It was so strange to finally see it. To be honest, I’d expected something more. The most important mountain in the world, sacred to over a billion people. But Kailas was just a mountain, and not even a very impressive one.

  Tenzin obviously didn’t feel that way. The moment he saw it he sank to his knees and began to chant. I left him to it; we were well hidden under the canopy of prayer flags, so it was a good spot to plan a route to the mountain’s base.

  I slid on my smart-goggles and scanned the landscape with the zoom lenses. It was getting darker, the sinking sun glittering the mountain tops with bronze and gold, but there was still enough light to see around the valley. It seemed like the coast was clear – it should have been; no one else knew our destination – but I didn’t allow myself to relax. The most dangerous moments usually came when the coast seemed clear.

  Tenzin joined me gazing at the Crystal Mountain. I’d never seen such a smile! He was a world-champion grinner, and he shattered his personal best. It was Kailas; just seeing it made him shine.

  “Do you know that lake?” I asked.

  “Of course. Lake Manasarovar.”

  “I’m guessing it’s sacred?”

  “Very sacred.”

  “Does that mean we can’t go near it?”

  “No, we must. To bathe in that lake cleanses your sins.” Impossibly, his smile spread even wider. “It might be good for you, Manchester United.”

  I didn’t take the bait. There was no way anyone could bathe in that lake; the ice must have been a metre thick. But we could walk across it. The only other way to Kailas was to hike around it – at least a day’s effort, but probably longer in such deep snow.

  I could hear my mum in my head, insisting we went the long way. That was the safe route, the sensible plan. I just didn’t do sensible very well.

  I focused my lenses on the lake’s far shore, and the steep slope that rose to the base of Kailas. Hills lined it on either side. One of them was dotted with chortens; at least a hundred of them clustered around a small, whitewashed building that looked out over the lake. A trail of smoke rose from the building’s chimney.

  “What’s that place?” I asked.

  “Chui Gompa,” Tenzin replied. “It is for pilgrims on the way to Kailas. We can stay there for the night.”

  “It looks like someone’s already there.”

  “No, its fire always burns. Every morning a monk comes to make tea for anyone who arrives.”

  He seemed certain it was safe, but I wasn’t convinced. I switched my goggles to thermal view, and then infrared, but the monastery was too far away to get a reading. It was getting dark, and it would be a perfect rest stop before continuing up the slope to Kailas. But I had a bad feeling about the place, and I’d come to trust those feelings.

  I was about to ask more about it, but Tenzin looked back in the direction we had come. His face changed, his smile replaced by a scowl, as he scoured the landscape like a soldier on watch.

  “Manchester United…” he breathed. “Do you feel it?”

  I stared at him, confused. The only thing I felt was the ache in my legs from the climb. But I’d learned to take Tenzin seriously when he stopped smiling.

  “Feel what?” I asked.

  “It is back,” he hissed. “It is watching us.”

  I looked in every direction at pristine white slopes. “What, Tenzin? What’s watching us?”

  “The guardian of the mountain. Why does it follow us, Manchester United? You are not going to climb Kailas.” He looked at me, his eyes suddenly full of uncertainty. “Are you?”

  I swallowed hard, trying not to show anything other than outrage at the question. Part of me still wondered if the guardian spirit was just a spook story to scare me away from the mountain. But another part wasn’t so sure.

  “We’re going to find your chorten,” I said. “So we need to cross that lake. It’s the quickest way to Kailas.”

  “To the chorten, you mean?”

  I nodded, too eagerly, and tried to change the subject. “Where is it, anyway, this chorten?”

  I handed him the goggles, which he ordered to zoom to scan the hill where the monastery sat. All of the chortens looked the same to me, but Tenzin must have spotted the one dedicated to his monastery’s founder, because he squealed with delight.

  “I see it! Manchester United, I see it!”

  He shoved the goggles into my hand and scampered off down the slope. “Let’s go!”

  I hissed at him to slow down, but seeing the chorten had given him a double dose of energy, and he already had twice as much as me, so he was off like a skidoo. He whooped as he ran, like a child on a school snow day.

  The snow deepened from ankle-deep to knee-high as I trudged after him down the hill. I followed in the trench he had carved, but each step was still exhausting.

  Suddenly Tenzin stopped. He crouched in the snow and stared across the slope. Something was moving towards us. The grey haze of dusk had settled across the valley, but I could just make out six figures in sheepskins and scarves, struggling around the shore of the lake.

  I caught up with Tenzin and dragged him down lower as we watched the group trudge closer. We could hear them now, a rhythmic chanting that echoed up the slope.

  “Om mani padme hum. Om mani padme hum…”

  “They are pilgrims,” Tenzin explained. “On a holy journey to Kailas.”

  “Are we safe?” I asked.

  Tenzin didn’t answer, but I wasn’t going to trust them just because they seemed to be pilgrims. That would be a perfect disguise for a hunter, after all.

  We waited for half an hour, watching the group rest by the frozen lake. They made a yak-dung fire and huddled around it chanting and singing. Nothing about them seemed suspicious; as far as I could tell, they really were pilgrims. The more I thought about it, the more this seemed an excellent opportunity.

  “Let’s say hello,” I suggested.

  Tenzin grabbed my arm. “We cannot.”

  “Why not?”

  “They are pilgrims, Manchester United. They have walked many miles to cleanse their sin. We cannot involve them in our activities.”

  “We’re not involving them, we’ll just walk with them. It’s a good cover.”

  “Cover?”

  “We’ll
look like part of their group.”

  “It is a lie. It shrouds them with impurity.”

  “Come on, Tenzin, it doesn’t shroud them with anything. I bet they fancy a bit of company. A break from all that om-mani-padme-humming.”

  I knew Tenzin would protest again, so I didn’t give him a chance. I jumped up and set off once more down the hill, waving my arms in signal.

  They were cool, too, those pilgrims. At first they were startled to see us, but after a lot of smiling and tashi deleks, they invited us to join them at the fire. Only one of them spoke English, but he spoke it really well.

  They were delighted to meet Tenzin – on a pilgrimage, bumping into a monk seemed like the best sort of luck. They showed him diaries they had kept of their trip so far, and he prayed with them. One of the group made yak butter tea, which I managed to drink without pulling a face. If nothing else, it was nice to hold something warm.

  Tenzin explained about his mission to rebuild Yerpa Gompa, which delighted them, judging by all the claps and grins. He told them I was joining him, which earned me a round of applause too, and I smiled and again felt bad.

  They were headed for Chiu Gompa to rest before beginning a pilgrimage around Mount Kailas. First they wanted to bathe in the lake; apparently this was a vital part of their journey. I had no idea how they’d do it: the entire surface was one thick slab. They tried stamping and hurling rocks, but barely made a dent in the ice. Finally one of them suggested they rub themselves on it, which should have the same sin-cleansing results as bathing. Tenzin tried to drag me along too, but I insisted I was happy by the fire.

  I was happy by the fire – the vicious cold of the Tibetan night had begun to descend, so there was no way I wanted to lie on ice. But that wasn’t why I stayed. One of the other pilgrims had too, unconvinced by the ice-bathing plan.

  It was the pilgrim who spoke English.

  Here, at last, was my chance.

  I shifted closer to him, so my back was turned to Tenzin and the ice-bathers. “Can I ask a favour?” I asked.

  He grinned as if being asked favours was his favourite thing. I glanced back to the lake, checking Tenzin was busy. The pilgrims had rolled up their chubas and lay flat on the ice, flapping limbs like they were making snow angels.

  “Can you translate something for me,” I asked, “and write down what it says?”

  I feared for a moment that Tenzin had warned him about the Drak Terma, because the guy’s smile faltered as he looked at the goggles I pulled from my pocket. He stared at them, then at me, then took them from my hand. It was a weird reaction, but I didn’t think about it much then – although later I wished I had.

  He put them on, and I told the lenses to show the last photograph they took. My heart was going triple speed. It wasn’t just the anticipation of reading the terma. I was breaking a promise. Tenzin would be devastated if he found out.

  “Do you see the writing?” I asked as the pilgrim stared at the photograph on the lenses. “What does it say?”

  “These are strange words,” he muttered.

  “But can you translate them?”

  I grabbed one of the diaries the pilgrims had shown us, tore a page from the back, and shoved it with a pencil into the man’s hand.

  “Can you write it down?” I asked.

  He did, a few words that I didn’t see as I kept watch on Tenzin, who was trudging back from the lake, looking delighted with his little trip. As he caught my eye, the smile dropped from his face. He walked faster, calling out.

  “Manchester United? What are you doing?”

  I snatched the paper from the pilgrim just as he finished writing, and stuffed it in my pocket. I needed to distract him, to take his mind off what he’d seen.

  “Hey,” I said. “I want you to keep those goggles, as a gift.”

  The pilgrim took them off and stared at me. “What? I cannot!”

  “Really, you can.”

  He insisted he couldn’t and I insisted he could, and then he grabbed me in a massive hug, and jumped up and danced around in the snow. By then Tenzin was back and looked more confused than ever.

  “What is happening?” he asked.

  “A gift,” I explained. “They’ve been kind to us.”

  Tenzin considered this, his eyebrows so low they seemed to slip into his eyes, and then his face erupted in another epic grin.

  “Good, Manchester United! Very good! You see, the lake has cleansed you!”

  I forced a smile and clutched the paper in my pocket. The pilgrim seemed to have forgotten about it as he showed off his new toy to his friends.

  The pilgrims were up for crossing the lake, eager to reach the warmth of Chiu Gompa. They packed up their stuff and we followed them to the shore.

  The lake surface felt as solid as concrete. Bubbles squirmed at least half a metre below. It seemed safe, but alarm bells were going off in my head. It would be dark by the time we reached the centre of the lake, a mile from land in every direction. I turned, looking at the pass we’d come from and the other surrounding hills. I wished I’d not given my smart-goggles away; I needed their night vision to watch for hunters. But I could hardly ask for them back; if I did, the pilgrim might mention the Drak Terma, and Tenzin would know I’d lied.

  I pulled my chuba tighter as freezing wind swept across the ice. For a while the only sounds were the thunk of our boots on the frozen surface and the creaking of ice underfoot, a creepy and threatening noise, like the groan of a ship’s timbers. Ahead, one of the pilgrims began chanting again.

  After an hour we reached the centre of the lake. Kailas loomed directly ahead, a vast black tower, like a space rocket about to blast off from the top of the slope. I looked back across the ice. Wind swept powdery snow across the lake surface, but nothing else moved. Even so, something was wrong. I had a sense of it, maybe the same sense that made Tenzin so sure we were being followed by the guardian of the mountain.

  “Manchester United,” Tenzin called. “What is wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “We should walk faster, get off this ice.”

  Only, we couldn’t go any faster. Each step had to be carefully placed to avoid tumbling over. And, anyway, I couldn’t explain to the pilgrims why I was so scared; they knew nothing about my real story. Maybe there was a way to get them moving without explaining?

  I ran three steps and skidded, so I slid several metres over the ice, pushed by the wind at my back. One of the pilgrims grinned and did the same, boot-skating much further than me, and suddenly they were all at it, laughing as they skidded over the lake. Tenzin got involved too. His robes blew against him as he ran and slid, ran and slid.

  This was better; we were covering the distance much faster, and it was a good distraction from my fears.

  “Clear a path,” I yelled. “World record slide coming up.”

  I skidded over the ice, cheering myself on until I came to a breathless stop. I looked back, delighted by the distance I’d skated from the rest of the group.

  “Yes!” I cried. “I’d like to see any of you beat—”

  The rest of my words got stuck in my throat as I realized no one was watching me. They were all looking back towards the black hills and the smouldering fire we had left on the shore. At first I didn’t understand why.

  Then I heard.

  It sounded like a swarm of bees. A huge swarm of bees.

  “No…” I gasped.

  For a moment I became part of the lake, frozen solid, as I watched a plume of snow rush up from the pass, swept by something more than the wind. The noise grew louder, and then it appeared, black and terrible against the night.

  A drone.

  It was far bigger than those that destroyed the monastery. Even from a mile away I could see that it was rigged with weapons and cameras.

  All I could do was stare, paralyzed by the realization that we were trapped in the middle of a frozen lake, five hundred metres from the shore. My words, when they finally came, were a whisper from
cracked lips.

  “Run… Everybody run.”

  33

  Running on ice is easy when you’re mucking about, but when you really need to run it’s different. I slipped, staggered and tumbled back, cracking my head against the rock-hard surface.

  Rolling over, I saw Tenzin and the pilgrims charging towards me, snatching terrified glances over their shoulders. The drone swept down the mountainside. Lights flashed on its body, angry red flashes against the slope. The downdraught of its rotors caused rocks to tumble and tiny snow tornadoes to twist up from the ground. I could just see some of the kit rigged to its frame: infrared cameras, heat sensors, robotic grab claws and things that looked worryingly like rocket launchers. They twisted and turned, seeking us out.

  I screamed at the pilgrims to run faster, but they were going as fast as they could. They looked confused as much as scared. They could tell that the drone was a threat, but they had no idea why. In that moment, sprawled on the ice, I remembered Tenzin urging me not to join this group. These pilgrims had struggled for weeks to reach Kailas. Now I had dragged them into a nightmare.

  I scrambled up and staggered back, yelling for them to hurry.

  “Manchester United!” Tenzin screamed. “What now?”

  The drone swept from the slope and over the shore of the lake, causing the frozen surface to shudder and sway. One of the machine’s gadgets turned, and something fired.

  A fizzing blue laser shot into the lake, punching a hole through the thick surface. Chunks of ice flew up, then a geyser of freezing water. The ice rocked up and down, sending us tumbling. The drone was three hundred metres away. The shot had been a warning; there was no escape.

  The pilgrims started running again. Desperate to get off the lake, they charged for its closer eastern shore rather than towards Kailas and Chiu Gompa. Tenzin tried to drag me with them, but I resisted. This hunter was after me – not them.

  “Tenzin!” I shouted above the noise of the drone’s rotors, “go with them, get them safe.”