Their Pakistani guide, Kamal, knowing most of them didn’t speak English, stood with Pon and the Americans.
He pointed up the mountain. “We need to reach that point before nightfall,” he said and looked at Pon. “There are caves’ where we can spend the night.”
Pon looked and nodded. ‘That doesn’t look too far,’ he thought as Kamal pointed further up the mountain and said, “we should be fine until we reach that peak.”
He looked at Pon. “The weather is hazardous on the other side, so we will remain on the lea side as long as possible.”
Kamal pointed at the mist-covered summit. “The map showed the only way to get to the other side was over a ledge near the summit.” He took the map that Pon gave him from his fleece jacket and said. “I have never been here before but this is a small mountain, so it shouldn’t be too difficult. The Monastery where you are going is in a valley on the other side of this mountain.” He pointed at the markings on the map and said. “Please tell everyone to stay close together, the weather can quickly change and visibility can drop to zero.”
While Pon told the others, Kamal slung his small rucksack onto his back, pulled his woollen hat down over his ears, and zipped up his jacket.
“Oh, hang on,” said Chuck, taking his phone from a pocket inside his thermal suit. He walked away and answered the call.
While waiting for Chuck, Pon, along with the others, looked at the foot of the mountain less than a kilometre away.
The rocks where they stood had a light dusting of snow, as did the few evergreen trees that grew in spots along their planned route. Pon and the Warriors felt in awe of the beauty of this barren wilderness.
Chuck came back over to the group and, looking solemn, said. “That was Sherriff Weiner.” He looked at the phone and sighed. “He said he was called to our Sanctuary by people in the area after they heard gunfire.” Chuck shook his head and frowned. “The sheriff told me everyone was dead, and he was waiting for the FBI to arrive and investigate the massacre.” He looked at Sedgly. “I told the sheriff where we were, and he said he wanted to see us when we get back to the States.”
There was silence as the others saw the hurt on Chuck and Sedgly’s face.
Chuck took a deep breath and frowned. “Let’s go find this murderer.”
As the light faded, they turned on the lights on their goggles that illuminated the side of the mountain and at twilight, they reached a cave at the first point. They’d made good progress throughout the day, although they all struggled with slipping and sliding on cold, jagged boulders. Chuck and Sedgly looked exhausted keeping up with the fast pace. They had stopped once to eat the fruit they had brought.
The cold increased the further they climbed, and temperatures plummeted to negative twelve after sundown.
The suits kept them warm in the sub-zero temperatures but the thin porous layer around their mouth and nose that enabled them to breathe became sodden, so each frozen breath felt uncomfortable.
They made fires within the large cave with the fuel that Taksin supplied. He told them that one lightweight brick would stay alight for eight hours. They lit two fires, one at the entrance, and one further back in the cave. The heat from the fuel bricks gave out a warm glow that lit the cave and felt cosy.
They ate from sealed *SHFP ration packs, which for the Asians tasted awful. Even though the chicken and rice was hot, it tasted of plastic.
Their first night felt pleasant in the warm cave as they knelt and chanted mantras. Kamal, a Hindu, smiled as he listened to the Buddhist monks’ melodic drones. He saw Chuck and Sedgly smiling at one another so knew they also couldn’t understand the languages.
Leaving at first light the following day, they trekked throughout the day and as night fell, they neared the summit.
That leg of the climb was gruelling for them all with the air becoming thin and every step felt like they wore lead boots.
Apart from a few light blizzards, the sky remained clear but an icy mist now enveloped them as they found shelter between rocks. Vitchae had made them some lotions and potions, which he hoped would help combat the conditions. Although never having been in this climate, Vitchae could only guess with his mixtures. However, they all found breathing easier once they rubbed the ointment on their throats and chins.
Their suits, although warm became uncomfortable from their sweat as they ate and then they pushed on throughout the night. The light of the full moon pierced through the mist, lighting their way until they reached the narrow ledge that led around the mountain and they waited for daybreak. They now took breaths from their oxygen cylinder kit Taksin supplied and looked at the countless stars through the freezing misty haze.
As the first rays of sunlight hit the ridge, they traversed the ledge and as they neared the other side, it felt like they had entered a freezing hell. Snowy winds blasted them and visibility dropped to almost zero. Each held on to the man in front of them as they forced their way forward against the raging blizzard.
The trek down the other side, although not as far, was a slow hard slog, with them having to huddle behind rocks as the blizzards intensified. By nightfall, and after only travelling a few kilometres throughout the day, they found a cave. Sheltering from the icy gale, they made fires, ate, and rested, while listening to the wind howling outside.
****
Spock furrowed his brow and shivered. “It’s bloody freezing.”
Stu nodded, picked up his bottle of beer, and said. “Yeah, the aircon’s up way too high; come on, let’s finish these and get out of here mate.”
They finished their beer and walked out of Champagne a-go-go into the hot Bangkok night of the raucous Soi Cowboy.
Spock rubbed his arms, “brrr… it was shit in there, and bloody cold.”
“Yeah,” said Stu nodding before raising his eyebrows. “I wonder how Pon and the others are doing?”
****
The firebricks dwindled to a warm glow as daylight broke outside.
Kamal woke Pon. “We must keep going; we are not too far away from your coordinates. Once we get off this mountain, we should be close to your Monastery.”
Pon nodded and roused the others.
Kamal felt exhausted. Although a mountain guide for most of his life; now in his late thirties, felt the effects of a lifetime in these harsh conditions. By his reckoning, they should not be too far away from the Monastery if the coordinates were correct.
He watched the others who looked in pain while getting to their feet and he felt concerned. ‘If they were wrong and there’s nothing there, I know some of them won’t make it back. This mountain has been more formidable than I imagined,’ he thought watching Sedgly helping Chuck to his feet as the large man winced and groaned.
They all felt exhausted and looked worried by the thought of spending another day on the unforgiving mountain. With the blizzard still raging outside, Kamal led them out of the shelter of the cave and back into the icy tempest.
They trudged on for several hours holding onto the man in front of them. They then came out below the storm cloud and everything went silent and clear.
Looking at one another, they felt amazed and relieved as they gathered on a ledge and looked into the snow-covered valley below.
Feeling glad to have survived this waking nightmare, they all let out a sigh of relief and continued down until almost at the foot of the mountain.
“There!” shouted Kamal and pointed to three domes covered with snow in the valley that looked like a small crater between two mountains. As the snowstorm cloud raged above their heads with the swirling cloud formations appearing like a dark, moving, cotton lid, they smiled as they walked down and off the mountain.
Light glinting off the glacial mountains surrounding the valley gave off a mystical blue aurora as they trudged knee-deep in virgin snow.
Pon, although relieved to be off the mountain, now considered what challenges lay ahead, knowing he and his Warriors were exhausted.
The bedraggled a
rmy went to the front of the Monastery’s large gates. Pon ached as he dropped his backpack and took out his orange cassock, red sash, and weapons. The others followed and now stood with their hoods down with cassocks over their thermal suits holding their weapons.
Kamal looked shocked. Although knowing they were Buddhist monks, he believed they came in peace to meet the monks in the Monastery, but these looked ready for battle and he stepped back from this small army and looked terrified.
With his body screaming for rest and warmth, Pon knew he was in no condition for combat. He looked at the other Warriors, who didn’t appear to be faring any better as they stared at him awaiting his instructions.
He glanced at Kamal who stood away from him and his Warriors glaring at them.
Pon nodded at two Tinju who went over to the heavy, white painted wooden gate and pushed against it. Two more helped them open it as a layer of snow had piled against it, and as the gate opened, they saw the doors of the temple 400 yards away. “Stay on your guard,” said Pon, holding up his sword and springing the blades from his Juglave as the Chokdet arrowed their bows.
Forming into groups with the Chokdet on the peripheries with bows raised, they trudged through the snow like crabs towards the door. With the clean crisp still air, they neither smelt nor heard anything as their eyes flitted around.
Kamal watched them from the gate furrowing his brow and wondering what was going on.
‘They must be the monk’s quarters,’ thought Pon seeing small snow-covered brick buildings at the side. He frowned, ‘Strange, I see no footprints. I wonder if anyone’s here,’ he pierced his lips as another thought coursed through his mind. ‘Maybe they’re all dead.’
They reached the white painted, carved, wooden doors of the temple with the carvings depicting a prince on horseback, and several carvings of Buddha under a Bodhi tree.
They jumped back when they heard the door clicking and formed into ranks next to Pon. Glowering and pointing their weapons at the doors creaking open, a gust of warm air hit the group.
Surprised, but remaining in attack positions, they watched and waited while the doors opened further and they saw an elderly Pakistani monk wearing a saffron and maroon cassock stood in the doorway.
Young and old monks stood behind him smiling at the newcomers as did the two who came from behind the half opened doors.
The smiling old monk then furrowed his brow and looked surprised at the party of armed monks.
Pon, seeing the old monk and the others unarmed and looking confused, sheathed his sword, dropped his Juglave on the snow, smiled, and wai-ed the old monk. “Forgive me Prime Master, we did not know what to expect. I am Prime Master Porntip Meesilli of the Tinju.”
The others followed suit and put their weapons away and wai-ed the monks.
The old Pakistani Prime Master smiled and in English said.
“Welcome Prime Master Meesilli, I am Prime Master Bolan of Gi'āna dē tākata.”
He looked outside at the wai-ing monks and said. “Welcome to you all. Please, come inside, you must be cold.”
Pon picked up his Juglave, folded away the blades, and slipped it into his cassock pocket.
He led them all inside and as the two monks closed the door Kamal stumbled in and removed his hat.
The interior of the warm temple had an amber glow as thousands of candles along the walls gave off light and heat.
Everything seemed serene, with monks of varying ages, both male and female now knelt either side of a wide aisle. A large gold sitting Buddha statue at the end of the aisle smiled down over the new arrivals.
Pon noticed that Prime Master Bolan appeared to be around eighty-years-old as he led Pon to the front of the aisle and knelt.
The Chokdet and Tinju Warriors knelt beside the Pakistani monks while Pon, Chuck, Sedgly, Manhut, and Dave sat alongside Prime Master Bolan.
With silence in the temple, the old Prime Master said.“I am always happy to meet my fellow monks, and by looking at your weapons, I assume that you are also Sanctuaries. To what do we owe this honour?”
Pon furrowed his brow and looked confused. ‘He doesn’t know what’s happening to the descendants,’ he thought and gestured to his kneeling Warrior monks. “Those are the Thai Tinju and Cambodian Chokdet Warriors,” Pon motioned to his side, “This is Prime Master Chuck Johnson and Master Sedgly of the Warlords of Peace, the American Sanctuary, and Manhut and Dave are Gopetu’s.” The contingent wai-ed Prime Master Bolan, and Pon said. “We came here to see if you can help find the people responsible for killing our descendants and Gopetu’s,”
Prime Master Bolan gasped and looked surprised. “I don’t understand; why would anyone kill descendants?”
“Do you mean to say that none of the descendants here have been killed?” asked Chuck sounding staggered.
Prime Master Bolan shook his head and looked concerned.“No, none have come here.”
Monks came over with trays of hot beverages and handed them out to the newcomers. The warm smooth bitter tasting fluid warmed them further as Pon explained to Prime Master Bolan what had happened to them.
Prime Master Bolan looked worried. He beckoned over two middle-aged Masters, who came over and knelt in front of their Prime Master, who spoke to them in Punjabi.
Both Masters looked puzzled and one stood and went to a table at the side and brought over a large ancient book, which he put in front of Prime Master Bolan. He knelt down with his colleague.
“This is Master Singh and Master Ponah,” said Prime Master Bolan introducing them, “we have not heard of any attacks, let alone deaths of any of our descendants. Please, tell us more.”
The five looked at the book with ਲਾਇਫ ਸ੍ਟੋਰੀ ਪ੍ਰਾਫਟ ਫਾਦਰ on the cover and realised that it was their Puravuttanta.
Pon gave the Prime Master more details of the attacks, how they captured Abdullah, and the reason they were there.
When Pon finished, Prime Master Bolan frowned. “I am confused Prime Master; we know nothing of this and none of our descendants or Gopetus came here.”
Pon, looking puzzled, said. “Prime Master, I must either assume that Ammanussa’s killed all the descendants and Gopetus living in this part of Pakistan, or any survivors died getting here.”
Prime Master Bolan shook his head and sighed. “Perhaps they were all killed, as for being unable to get here, they have all been here many times. It’s easy when you know the correct route.”
While the Gopetu’s and American’s glared at Kamal sat at the back smiling and clutching his woollen hat, Pon rubbed his chin and said. “Perhaps they haven’t targeted your descendants.”
Prime Master Bolan nodded and sounding calm spoke to his two Masters in Punjabi who looked bemused and shrugged their shoulders.
He then leant back and said. “We will help any way we can. What do you propose?”
“We need to find Abdullah’s chiefs and find out what they know about Fahed Del Alaz.”
“Yeah,” said Chuck sounding enraged. “Then we find Fahed and kill him.”
Prime Master Bolan looked shocked at the American Prime Master.
“Prime Master Johnson, revenge is neither in our hearts nor in our nature. We are not punished for our anger; we are punished by our anger. We should not seek revenge on those who have committed crimes against us, or reply to their crimes with other crimes; we should reflect that by the law of karma. They are the ones in danger with lowly and miserable lives to come, and our duty to them, as to every being, is to help them to rise towards Nirvana, rather than let them sink to lower levels of rebirth.”
Pon, also surprised by Chuck’s outburst, looked sullen and said. “This is not a question of anger or revenge Prime Master Bolan. Abdullah told us that Fahed’s army was launching attacks against all the Sanctuaries. We believe this had already started with the Warlords of Peace being annulated. We are here to stop any further attacks to protect our order and our families. That is if we are not already too late.”
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Pon took a map from his backpack and showed the Prime Master, who, along with his two Masters, studied the area and spoke amongst themselves.
Prime Master Bolan looked concerned and pointed at Kamal at the back of the room. “Is that your guide?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Pon, “his name is Kamal.”
The Prime Master motioned Kamal over and the pair spoke in Punjabi as Bolan showed him the map. Kamal nodded and pointed out the route he intended to take them.
The pair spoke for several minutes and then Kamal sighed, nodded, and told Pon and the others. “He said we would never make the journey this time of year. Not only is the distance far greater than what we have just travelled, but the conditions are far worse in some areas.”
Silence lingered in the temple for several minutes until Chuck, with anger in his voice, said. “Do you mean that we have come this far for nothing? No, I will not accept that. We must go on.”
Prime Master Bolan spoke to his two Masters, who nodded, stood, bowed, and left the Monastery.
The old Prime Master rubbed his chin and sounding wistful said. “Perhaps we can help,” he sighed and looked at the five, “but I need to speak with some friends. Please, stay here, you are very welcome. I will show you around the Monastery and you can eat and join us with our Sutras. Then, after a good night’s rest, we can talk more in the morning.”
“Thank you Prime Master Bolan,” said Pon and he and the others wai-ed the old Prime Master.
Bolan, which in Punjabi meant ‘God’s spoken word,’ took them all to a large room, leaving the Gi'āna dē tākata monks in the Monastery chanting mantras in Punjabi.
Several large logs blazed in hearths and when Prime Master Bolan saw them all perspiring, he told them to take off their thermal gear and leave it at the sidewall along with their other equipment.
Now in their cassocks, they all felt comfortable, with the Tinju and Chokdet sat either side of long bench tables chatting amongst themselves.
Pon, the Gopetu’s, and Americans, sat on a separate table and while men and women monks prepared meals for the newcomers, the eighty-six-year-old Prime Master explained about the Sanctuary and the Gi'āna dē tākata order.
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