The Beast Inside

by Monique Singleton

  ‘I come from an old family. We have been tasked with a certain responsibility for hundreds, maybe even thousands of generations. That responsibility is the best kept secret in the world. No one knows of us, and none can. Our silence and secrecy is essential. Without that we cannot fulfil our destiny. It is a burden that is handed down from parents to children. It is as it has always been. Me, I rebelled. I wanted nothing of the preordained life. I lusted for freedom, freedom from the expectations, freedom from the secrets. So I left.’ He was reliving the experience. I could see the pain and shame in his eyes. ‘My life has not followed the ideal path that I dreamt of that fateful day. I had no craft that was of use in the outside world, nothing other than my wiles and my mind. I tried my hand at many different forms of employment. All were even more stifling than my old life. Roaming the land I finally ended up in a monastery. There I found my true calling. Convincing others that I could lead them to spiritual highs. To be frank—I manipulate people. I’m good at it, it comes naturally. I expect that is the remnant of the life of secrecy that the family instilled in me.’

  Instead of answering questions, his words confused me. Frustrated at the way he skirted any real revelations, I wondered if he was actually manipulating me. That was his forte after all.

  ‘I quickly made a name for myself in the spiritual world. It is all a farce. All a carefully constructed make-believe world that others are all too happy to buy in to. Finally, I made my way to court and that is where you found me. As the spiritual guide for another master manipulator. I don’t think he really believed my preaching. But it played into his plans. He also saw a kindred spirit in me. Not in the narcissism and megalomania that he had. No, in the way I manipulated people. He saw another opportunity to control his minions. Not only through his own power, but through the promise of eternal paradise after this life. We never spoke of it, but I am sure that he was manipulating me as I was him. We had an understanding. I rose quickly in the hierarchy of the palace in parallel with Bharata’s rise to power. The position and status gave me the opportunity to finally live the life that I had always wanted. One of luxury and status. Yet, I still wasn’t content. There was always something missing. A real goal in life, something to live, and maybe even to die for. I never imagined that it might be this instance. This—what is happening here. I understand now that this is my destiny. This is what my whole life has been leading up to. This is why I left my family.’

  ‘What’s “this”?’

  ‘You. Finding you and bringing you to my family.’

  I was no closer to answers than an hour ago. To me he sounded demented, confused, completely immersed in his own twisted world. Nothing he had told me sounded logical. He left out so much of the story, so many important details, that his rambling made no sense at all. I questioned my decision on taking him with me. But without him I would never be able to find the others—his family. I would not know where to begin. I didn’t know where their village was. Once there, I was counting on them being more coherent. There I would finally find an explanation.

  I hoped.

  ‘You said that I was the reason your family existed. Why?’

  ‘Please’ he almost begged me. ‘I cannot tell you. But all will be explained when we arrive.’ I wanted to force him to divulge more. Threaten him with certain death, but it wouldn’t help. I needed him alive, and he knew it.

  ‘Where are we going to?’

  ‘To the ancient border of Nepal and Tibet, near Limi. There we will cross and make our way to the family.’

  ‘What about the borders?’ I had no passport and the Sadhu’s would only betray him. I expected the man-hunt had already reached the furthermost borders of Bharat.

  ‘Nepal and southern Tibet are part of the new Bharat’ the Sadhu explained. ‘This is now to our advantage. There are no borders anymore. It is all one massive country. No one will stop us when we cross the ancient divisions. Besides we will not take the normal route. We will take the small roads, the 4-wheel-drive will help us there. The last part of the journey we will do by pony.

  ‘Ponies and me don’t mix’ I informed him. ‘They shy away from my scent.’

  ‘Of course. They smell the lion.’ he pondered the new issue. ‘We will solve that problem when we get there.’

  I decided to leave it at that for the moment. He was so riled that nothing made sense anymore.

  We had been here in this secluded place for more than eight hours, it was time to continue our journey. Every hour we delayed was an hour we lost in the advantage on our pursuers. Starting the car, I drove us out of the secluded spot, over the gravel track and back to the road. We continued our trip in silence.

  That night and the next day, we made reasonably good time, considering the state of the road.

  The distance from Dhangadhi to Limi was no more than two-hundred and six kilometres in a straight line. The roads however, and especially the smaller ones we were following, measured almost three-hundred kilometres of rugged terrain. After we passed the Khaptad National Park we seriously entered the higher regions of the Himalayas, and after Kanda the mountainous terrain slowed us down considerably.

  During our journey, we switched clothes and identities many times. It was dangerous to be conspicuous, so we adopted the dress of the population we encountered. The altitude was rising rapidly and with it the temperature dropped, necessitating thicker and warmer clothes. This proved to be a bonus, as it made hiding my features easier.

  Currently we were posing as a returning patriarch and his granddaughter. The Sadhu now went by his given name—Neerav. He insisted on calling me Anadi, the name he had mentioned in our last moments at the palace.

  At Limi we ditched the car. The mountains cost us an enormous amount of gasoline and here it was at a premium due to the remoteness of the location. The valley followed the banks of the Karnali river at an altitude of more than four-thousand meters. The air was cool, we had arrived at the end of the short summer. We were truly at the roof of the world. The scenery was exceptional.

  The three villages that housed the Limi population in the valley were small—a mere two-hundred households in all. The main source of income here was obviously agriculture. Small-scale terrace farming made use of the short growing season from April to October. The Limi people relied heavily on animals for their everyday needs. Yak, horses, sheep and goats were visible. It was like stepping back in time, people here still followed the ancient Tibetan culture. The one-thousand-year-old Gompa Monestary in the village of Halji still formed the centre of the Tibetan religion.

  We hitched a ride on an old truck for another seventy kilometres and finally made it over the old border between Nepal and southern Tibet. There were no large towns here, just tiny villages on rugged tracks. The truck stopped at one of the villages and would go no further. We took our leave, thanking the driver profusely.

  Now we had to find a new means of transport.

  Neerav was old and feeble. There was no chance that he would be able to continue on foot. Not in this mountainous terrain. He surprised me with a burst of energy, maybe fuelled by nostalgia and the prospect of seeing his family after all these years. But it would not be enough to carry him over the rise and the eighty-odd kilometres that were still to come.

  In one of the villages we were able to buy a small horse. It was old but sturdy, sure-footed and well experienced in the mountains. Initially it was apprehensive of me. But Neerav was able to calm the animal and it tolerated me, though only if I walked ahead.

  There were many trails here. Remnants of the hiking and trekking touristic routes of years gone past. We walked them for three days. Having crossed the main Himalayas in Nepal, the mountains slowly receded here. We were still at a high altitude, but the tracks were a little less rocky, and occasional farms were visible in the valleys. The cold high mountainous air made way for a slightly more moderate temperature, though Neerav informed me that the winters here were cold and snow blanketed the ground for more than five months ev
ery year.

  We continued for another two days. I had no idea where we were. Any navigation was done by Neerav. He relied on his memory and knowledge of the land.

  In one of the villages where we stayed the night, he told me more about his departure from his family forty years ago. He dreaded the welcome he would get once we reached our destination, hoping against hope that he would be accepted back, but expecting the worst. He was a man engrossed in a massive internal conflict.

  ‘If this is the last thing I do, if they kill me, then that is how it should be’ he said. ‘But it is time to go home. Time to face whatever is in store for me.’

  I had given up on getting any coherent information out of him. His ramblings switched from the past to the future. From the truth to myths and back again. Every now and then he seemed rational, but that was short-lived. The apprehension of his return didn’t help. He grew more and more introverted the closer we came to our destination. His strength seemed to fail him. He sat on the horse and just stared at the road ahead. We hardly spoke. Both immersed in our own thoughts.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Word spread quickly that the prodigal son was returning, and that he was accompanied by a woman.

  As agreed, Jess covered her face and hair during the entire journey. There was no way that the family could have known that she was their kin’s companion.

  They were met on the road to the village, high up in the mountains. It was the only way in or out. The sheer walls of the mountain and the narrow road prevented most large vehicles from reaching the houses. It was a very private community.

  However, life here was by no means primitive. Jess saw state-of-the-art antennae and communication dishes. There was evidence that this community was very much connected to the outside world, no matter how remote their location.

  The welcoming party consisted of five men and three women. In contrast to Neerav’s expectations, he was welcomed warmly. Like the prodigal son he was. Jess stayed back ten metres and waited. They would get around to her sooner or later.

  They were obviously happy to see him. Smiles and hugs all around. Neerav was crying, tears streaming down his face. He had expected to be ostracised. A traitor to the cause, or at the least a deserter. But he had never betrayed their trust, never disclosed anything of his previous life or the order. They seemed to know that. And they hadn’t realised who I was yet.

  Finally, one of the men turned to me. He seemed to be someone of authority in the group. He took a few steps my way. He was of average height, fit and maybe thirty-five or somewhere near. He observed me from the distance. I could see that he was puzzled. He seemed to recognise something in me, but couldn’t quite place it. The remnants of a sari still covered my hair and face. I could see through the sheer material, but I guess he couldn’t.

  The mountain chose that precise moment to throw a gust of wind our way. It lifted the end of the sari and shifted the material from my eyes.

  The man was taken back. Shock registered on his face. He looked back at Neerav, the question clear in his eyes. ‘You didn’t?’

  Neerav couldn’t speak.

  Returning his gaze to me, the man swallowed perceptibly. He was scared. Slowly he forced his feet to move and came my way. Metre for metre.

  Camouflage had no use any more. He had figured out who I was, so I let the sari fall. We locked eyes. He paled.

  He stopped two metres from me and we observed each other. I had no idea how to proceed, and by the looks of it, neither did he. So we stood there for a few minutes in silence.

  He seemed to come to a conclusion. ‘Please, come with us to our home.’ I guess there weren’t very many other options, so he kind of resigned himself to the inevitable. I was here, and not going anywhere in a hurry. My stance had probably portrayed that.

  ‘You are welcome’ he added, stepping to the side so that I could pass.

  I nodded and walked past him towards the equally shocked group surrounding the Sadhu.

  They stepped back when I approached. All in a mixture of awe and fear.

  I continued up the road, accompanied by the man who had hesitantly welcomed me. The rest trailed behind us.

  The road opened up to a much larger level area. It looked like a man-made ledge. A lot of rock had been cleared to achieve this. We were almost at the top of the mountain. The views were breath-taking. I stopped for a moment to admire them. The air was clear, the sky blue. There were worse places to live.

  The buildings were for the most part on this level area. They were two-storey stone constructions. The building materials clearly taken from the mountain wall itself.

  He steered me towards a large building on the right-hand side of what looked like a small village square. Holding the door open for me, he indicated I go inside.

  I stopped in the hallway. Taking in the modern interior.

  The leader walked passed me into a room off the hall. I followed. We entered a living room, slash office. There were more people there, elders by the looks of them. As one, they were equally stunned by my unexpected arrival. Just as well they were already sitting down.

  I sat down in an armchair to the side of the room, opposite the door we had come in. There was no reason for me to look for a secure position. These people knew exactly who I was and what I was capable of. They would not pick a fight.

  Looking around, I saw high-tech computers and HD screens with maps, streams from security cameras and much more. The set-up here rivalled that of the best government agencies I had seen. There was some serious money here. I wondered where they got it from, but hey, I’d find that out sooner or later.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ‘So, who are you anyway?’ I started. ‘Neerav only told me that you were his family and that I was your reason for existence. He told me no more, and only after I forced him to.’ I decided to give Neerav a bit of respite. He had after all brought me here. There was no need for the rest to know exactly what he had disclosed up to now. Besides. It wasn’t all that much anyway. I was determined to find out what they all knew about me.

  ‘Spill the beans. What do you know about me?’ My questions were aimed at the man who had escorted me here.

  ‘I can’t say.’

  ‘Cut the bullshit. You know of me, obviously. What do you know and why? What Am I?’

  He looked around at the other people in the room. Slowly they seemed to come to a consensus.

  ‘Have you ever heard of the Riders of the Apocalypse?’ The guy I’d dubbed the leader finally said.

  ‘I have heard of the stories—but not in detail.’

  ‘John the Baptist made the first recorded mention of them in the Book of Revelations. Four riders, he called them: Conquest, Famine, War and Death. They are portrayed as the harbingers of the last judgement. Distinction between them was made by the colour of their horses. White was Conquest, Red for War, Black is Famine and Pale for Death.’ He was hesitant to go any further. ‘John was almost right.’ He waited a second. ’But not quite. There are discrepancies in his story, or in what was finally written down in the bible.’

  ‘You mean to say they’re real? There are actually four horsemen?’ I almost laughed out loud.

  ’Not exactly’ he was stalling. This was difficult for some unknown reason.

  ‘They aren’t horsemen, at least not anymore.’ He let that sink in.

  ‘And there are five, not four.’

  The silence was complete. He wanted me to join the dots and come to the conclusion he was too scared to voice himself. I refused. I didn’t want to hear what I expected him to say. When I stayed silent, he had to continue.

  ‘You’re the fifth’ his voice was almost a whisper.

  It was quiet for a while.

  ‘What is the fifth?’ I finally asked.

  ‘The fifth is Primal.’ He answered in the same quiet voice. ‘But I guess that you already knew that.’

  Primal. That, at least, made sense.

  It was the only part though.
r />   ‘Why?’

  ‘Forget all you know about the Apocalypse’ he continued. ’It is not a biblical thing, it’s infinitely older than that. Goes back to the origin of man. In itself, it’s Primal.’ He stopped for a breath and, once again for the assurance from the elders to continue. ‘The riders, or whatever you want to name them, were called upon to keep the balance.’

  ‘Called upon by who? God?’

  ‘You can call it whatever you like. God, Nature, whatever.’

  ‘What do you call it?’

  ‘I call it the planet fighting back.’

  ‘What balance?’

  ‘Man has upset the balance between Nature and all that lives in it. The balance is what keeps this planet alive. What allows the crops to grow, the animals to flourish and all life to exist here. For millions of years there was balance. Not one creature reigned. All were held in track by their natural enemies—other creatures that preyed on them. There was balance. The few times that the status quo was upset, a natural catastrophe occurred to reset it. No long-term impacts were sustained. And the planet once again flourished.’ He paused. ‘And then man threw a spanner in the wheel.’ I kind of knew what was coming.

  ‘Man was never supposed to take the upper-hand. To mould the planet to his own whims. The only real natural enemy that man now has, is his fellow man. Therefore, the horsemen were tasked to restore the equilibrium. They brought strife, pestilence, war and death. All designed to level the playing field and let the planet recuperate and regain control. However, it was too late. Man was resourceful and the intellectual and technical improvements were too rapid to quell. Have you ever wondered why there always seems to be a war somewhere?’