by Lisa Shea
“I do.”
My father drew in a breath, his face paled, and his voice lowered. “Do we win?”
Robert nodded. “Yes, at long last, you do win. But it won’t be for a while yet. I swear on my life that I will bring your daughter safely home.”
He gave a wry smile. “My mother used to tell me that I was a little too obsessed with … with this area … when I was young. I am glad to see that knowledge has come in useful, after all these years.”
My father nodded to him. “You have saved both of our lives. I can never repay that.”
Robert looked up into my eyes. “I need no repayment. I have here all I will ever want.”
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and my mouth went dry.
My father murmured something about helping the officers settle in, and he slipped from the door, leaving us alone.
I dropped to a knee at Robert’s side, my hand tightly within his own. I ran the other hand gently through his thick hair. “I knew you were real,” I murmured. “Those challenges we endured, they felt too strong to be merely dreams.”
“I will always be here for you,” he vowed. “Wherever you go, whatever you face, I will be at your side.”
A creaking noise came from the hallway.
I turned and stood. “Father?”
Robert’s voice was rough behind me. “Elizabeth, don’t go –”
I took a step …
*
Rows of brightly colored prayer flags fluttered merrily in the spring breezes, adding bright color to the stunning sunset. I sat back against the temple’s steps, enjoying the warmth. The winter had been a hard one, but life was once again renewing itself, as it did each year.
My eyes went to the Chinese soldiers marching along the busy main street in their crisp olive-colored uniforms. Their outfits were so unlike the beautiful colors and embroidered designs of the locals here in Lhasa. It was yet another sign that they simply did not belong. They were mindless drones in a world of stunning beauty and ethereal thought. My home of serenity and joy.
There was a movement in the crowds at the bottom of the stairs, and my heart leapt.
Rabten took the steps two at a time, his eyes frantic as if he’d been searching for me for hours, even though he knew well that I loved this view of the city in the evenings. He wore the burgundy top I had sewn for him, over dark pants. I could see that somehow he had ripped one of his sleeves.
He dropped to a knee before me, his breath coming in long heaves. “There you are.”
I smiled fondly at him. “Here I am. I see I’m going to have to mend this shirt of yours again, beloved.”
His eyes widened, and he drew in a breath. “You know me?”
My smile widened. “Do I know you? My father claims you have been there at my side since the day I was born. My stepmother says we must have been true loves in a previous life, with how you still dote on me after all these years.”
His eyes shone, his hand went to my hair, and he drew me into a kiss. It shone with an intensity I had never felt before – with a sense that he had been parted from me for years and had ached for our reunion. I was breathless by the time he drew back.
My eyes glowed with emotion. “What is –”
He took my hands in his, his face serious. “We have to leave. Now. The revolt is about to begin.”
12 – Tibet Destiny
The burbling hubbub of Lhasa rose up to me as the prayer flags fluttered merrily in the sunset, sending their well-wishes along the breeze. I looked to Rabten with a smile. “A full-fledged revolt? Surely it hasn’t come to that. Yes, many in our community are upset with how the Chinese troops behave. That’s to be expected.”
I looked out over the serene valley, to where the mountains towered all around us, as they had for thousands upon thousands of years. “Surely there will never be real fighting. Not here, not in the holy city of the Dalai Lama. His Holiness will be with us always, in all of his incarnations.”
His brow creased in worry. “Not always. The Dalai Lama will be smuggled out. Tonight. Because the Chinese are trying to kidnap him.”
I waved a hand at him, my sapphire dress fluttering with my movement. “You have been listening to those reactionaries again. I trust that peace will prevail. He will find a way. He always does.”
He gently ran a hand along my face. “Oh, my dearest. You are always so trusting. So full of hope.” His throat tightened. “But surely your dreams have shown you that mankind is not always so serene.”
My gaze shadowed at that. “My father has examined each dream in detail. He feels they are metaphors for the challenges you and I might face later in life.” I drew my eyes up to his. “They show that you were well named. Rabten. Steadfast. For in each dream you have been as steadfast as the eternal mountains which surround us.”
He twined his fingers into mine. “Then you know to trust in me. To trust in what I see. And I know that the Dalai Lama will be smuggled away tonight. That the land will erupt in blood and violence.” He squeezed my hand. “I must get you to safety.”
I smiled at him. “We are in 1959, not the Middle Ages,” I pointed out. “They will hardly go killing innocent civilians just to control one religious leader.”
His haunted gaze told me he believed that very thing.
I gave his hands a squeeze. “You may be Rabten, but I am Ekajati. The protectoress of teachings.” I looked out over my beloved city. “And so I shall.”
His voice was hoarse. “What of your parents? Your friends?”
I looked down. “They have chosen to retreat south to India, to live with distant relatives.” I drew my eyes to his. “But you remained behind with me. You understood how important this was to me.”
“The Dalai Lama is going to follow their lead,” he insisted. “He will try to get to safety. Surely if he is going to go, it makes sense for us to go as well? What is more important to you – these stones and rocks or the culture we treasure?”
I gave that though. “The culture and the people, of course. We can rebuild fresh structures. We can weave fresh prayer flags.” I looked anew into his eyes. “But surely you do not think –”
His gaze was more hollow than I had ever seen it before.
Clearly, whatever dreams and visions he had had, they had been somber ones.
I nodded, drawing to my feet. “Well, then, we must prepare.”
Relief shone in his gaze. “You will come south with me?”
I shook my head. “No. If the Dalai Lama is to escape to the south, then we must be prepared to confuse the troops which will undoubtedly chase after him. We must flee, at the same time, to the north. Create a false trail for them to follow.”
His throat grew tight. “But surely –”
I held his gaze. “You have said many times that the Dalai Lama is a great man. That his destiny shines before him. Do you still feel that way?”
He stilled at that, and for a moment he said nothing. Then, at last, he nodded. “He will be a compassionate man who guides millions of people in a way of peace.”
I smiled, leaning up to press a kiss on his cheek. “Then we two should do what we can to help him to freedom.”
His gaze shadowed in grief. “Even if it means we risk our own lives?”
I nodded. “Each of us has a part to play in the eternal cycles of our world. I will strive to present myself to the very best of my ability.”
His breath left him, and he nodded. “Then I shall be there, by your side.”
I smiled with love at my steadfast mountain. “Let us begin.”
He followed me down the cobblestone road to the small apartment which had once been a bustling family home. With everyone to the south, now it only held me and Rabten. I looked fondly at the rough-hewn walls and the simple furniture. This was my home. This is where my father had read stories to us while my stepmother cooked her yak stew. Each chair, each cup echoed with memories.
I gathered up supplies for several days’ travel while Rabten
kept a watch at the front window. His brow creased with worry. “It will be soon,” he warned.
I nodded, tucking the last of the dumplings into the sack, then hoisting it over my shoulder. He came over and took the larger bag. His gaze held mine. “You’re sure you want to do this?”
I nodded, certainty grounding me.
He took my hand in his. “Then lead the way.”
There was no moon out, and starlight twinkled high above, as if a great god had scattered brilliant diamonds across an ink-dark scarf. Normally the city would have fallen into a slumbering quiet at night, but something was different. There was a simmering tension, as if a pot had been left over a fire for too long.
I could feel it in the air.
We made our way toward the massive Norbulingka Palace, where the Dalai Lama spent much of his time. I could see swarms of crowds moving in the same direction as we did.
Rabten put his mouth near mine. “They have heard the rumors that the Chinese wish to kidnap the Dalai Lama. They have come to block any attempts with their lives.”
I smiled at him. “Then you see, it is not just us. All around are doing their part.”
I looked around at the chaos. “You are sure it is to be tonight?”
He nodded. “They will slip out in all this crowd and head south to the river. From there, they will begin the long trek over the mountains.”
“Then we shall go north. Up the steep cliffs beyond Gunbasha.” My mouth quirked into a grin. “I’d like to see the Chinese manage their way up those heights in those stiff uniforms of theirs.”
His eyes shadowed with worry, but he nodded. “If that is the path you have chosen, then I shall be there with you.”
I glanced at Rabten. “What else do you know? About how he escaped?”
Rabten looked as if he were trying to remember something from long ago. “He wore a Chinese uniform, I believe.”
I nodded. “Then we shall have to acquire some jackets. And I know just the place.”
I turned left at the next intersection and stopped at a small shop half-way down the block. It was a dear old friend of mine, a woman I had known since I was quite young. I smiled at her as we stepped in. “How goes your mending work, Choden?”
She held up the drab jacket she was working on. “It is like working on mud, for all the color they wear. Still, it puts noodles in the bowl.”
I stepped to her. “Rabten has had a dream. We need two Chinese jackets.”
She glanced at Rabten, then nodded. “Certainly,” she agreed without hesitation. She turned and went to a shelf of neatly folded clothes and drew two out. “These should fit nicely, I should think.” Her gaze grew serious. “Why do I have a sense that I might not see you two again?”
I drew her into a hug. “That cannot be known, dear Choden. But we have work to do tonight.”
She nodded. “The world is changing around us. I fear soon all we care for so dearly shall be lost.” She looked to me, then to Rabten. “Learn from yesterday. Live for today. Hope for tomorrow.”
I smiled fondly at her, at the traditional saying which seemed so apt. “We shall.”
I tucked the jackets beneath my arm and we stepped back out into the street.
The crowds grew louder as we neared Norbulingka. Another corner, and there were the walls before us. I knew that the complex housed countless buildings, ponds, and even a zoo. But right now there was only one concern in my head.
We pushed our way through the throngs, nearing the main gates. Around us the voices were growing harsh, with the locals feeling the threat and the Chinese prepared to take whatever action was required to achieve their objective.
Thick clouds drifted in, hiding the diamonds.
There was motion.
I sensed it rather than saw it. The Chinese soldier who moved not with the soldier’s rigid stance, but with fluidity. One who knew the freshness of the Lhasa air and the warmth of the ground beneath our feet.
I nodded to Rabten.
We slipped our jackets over our colorful clothing and began pushing north, being a bit rougher than necessary to make our way through the thick crowd.
There was a swirl of motion behind us.
Rabten glanced at me. “Are you ready?”
I nodded, my resolve firming.
We launched into a run.
There were shouts behind us, and then the pounding of feet, but I knew this city like the weave of embroidery on my sleeves. Every stone, every outcropping was a part of my soul. We danced through narrow alleys and sprinted up steep streets. It was not long before the storefronts faded into rustic houses, and then the mountain was there before us. Steep and formidable.
I smiled. My mountain was at my side. We would endure.
I looped the bag’s straps over my shoulder and dug in. I had done this so many times as a youth that it was almost a game to me. The Chinese stayed in pursuit, but they fell further behind as we climbed … climbed … Rabten reached down a hand and hauled me up onto a higher ledge.
“They’re still coming,” he reported. “They’re clumsy, but determined.”
“Good. The longer we can draw them after us, the longer the Dalai Lama has to escape.”
My arms ached from trying to move in the restrictive jacket, and I stripped it off, stuffing it into my bag. “I don’t think we need these any more.”
He nodded, following suit, and then we were in motion again.
Up, always up, and the small scrubs and plants fell away into bare rock. My hands ached with countless small scrapes and bruises, but I kept going. If we allowed the Chinese soldiers to get their hands on us, I had no doubt we would be subjected to thamzing – public shaming, humiliation, torture, and perhaps even death.
At last we reached a plateau and lit out in a fresh run. My lungs ached with the effort, but I focused on why we were up here. The critical nature of our quest.
Ahead a rope bridge spanned a deep crevasse, and Rabten drove hard toward it.
His voice came to me as we ran. “We’ll get across that and hide. Once the Chinese are across, we can come back and cut the lines. It’ll take them days to get around. By that time, the Dalai Lama will be long gone.”
I nodded. The plan was perfect. None would be hurt and the Dalai Lama would be safe.
I pushed with every last ounce of my strength. We made it to the bridge and started across. The length swayed with our motion and the depths were lost in the blackness below. I carefully put each foot before the last, and every sense was on alert for the sounds of pursuit. It was only as we reached the far side that I heard the shouts.
I drew out the Chinese jacket and tossed it far ahead, to where it caught in a tangle of rocks. Then I tugged Rabten’s hand, pointing left. “This way.” A short skitter down a slope and there was a narrow cave carved into the face of the rock. I tucked in there and drew him in after me.
My heart was hammering against my ribs, and it was several long moments before I could hear anything at all. Rabten’s arms came up around me and he pressed his lips to my forehead. His voice was a soft caress in my ear.
“I am so proud of you, my love.”
I smiled at that, nuzzling against him. “You give me the strength,” I murmured. “You are the light which keeps me whole.”
There were shouts from above as the Chinese soldiers reached our side of the bridge. There were at least six of them.
One of them must have spotted the jacket. “They went this way! To the north!”
A thundering of feet, and the sounds faded away into the deep night.
Rabten waited another minute … two … then he took my hand. “All right then. Let’s be quick.”
We scrambled back up the rocky face to the start of the bridge. The length stretched out before us into the darkness. I took a step –
Fresh shouts came from behind us.
They had turned around.
Rabten took my hand. “We can run for it. Get to the other side and cut the ropes from there.”
I turned to the side of the bridge and began sawing at the high rope on my end, one of three which spanned the length. “By the time we made the crossing, we couldn’t cut them all in time. At least some of the soldiers would be on the bridge by the time we made it fall. We would kill them through our actions.”
His face creased in agony. “But beloved –”
I was half-way through my rope. “I will not cause any death through my action. This is my chosen path.”
He drew in a breath, nodded, and then he was turning to his side, hacking hard at the second guide rope. He was far stronger than I was – the rope split in under a minute.
The voices grew closer.
Our ropes fell into the deep mists, lost.
We worked together on the lower center rope – the one that provided the support for the feet. This was thicker than the others.
Rabten’s eyes rose to mine as we worked. His voice was hoarse. “Whatever comes, whatever they do to us, know that I love you dearly.”
I glowed in the power of that gaze. “I love you, heart and soul, my beloved. And do not worry. For if our life ends here in this cycle, surely we will find each other in the next.”
His gaze was a vow. “We will. I swear it.”
A last hack, and the rope fell free.
The soldiers stumbled to a halt before us, staring in unbelieving shock at the remnants of bridge; at the knives in our hands.
We rose to our feet as one. I tossed my knife back into the charcoal depths. Rabten hesitated a long moment, his eyes holding anguish. Then at last he, too, threw away his knife.
Our hands found each other.
Rabten’s voice echoed into the ages. “I am here with you.”
“And I you.”
The Chinese bellowed in fury and charged –
The ground rippled, shook, and the ground beneath our feet fell away.
Rabten pulled me in hard against his chest. His voice carried over the thundering of the world.
“I am here.”
My heart sang.
Darkness.
*
I stepped out of the darkness of the stone church to the bright sunshine of the village’s common. Young girls in flowing dresses laughed as they ran around the May Pole that had been set up in preparation for tomorrow’s festivities. I wrapped my arms around me, shaking off the shadows of the two-hour-long lecture I had just endured.