by Peter Nelson
And Jordan was so over it.
“Sorry to be rude. It’s a lovely place you guys have here, but we really must be going. If you could just show us the exit, we’ll be out of your—er, hair.”
Jordan was met with blank, peaceful stares from the pair of monks who greeted them, as well as the dozen or so similarly dressed, similarly bald monks who had joined them.
Jordan turned to more familiar faces. “You wanna help me out here, guys?”
Eldon and Abbie sat on small, smooth rocks around a large, table-sized formation in the floor, while Morris floated in a nearby natural pool of crystal-clear water. Two of the mountain monks served them tea, as another turned to Jordan.
“Please, sit. You are our guests. All will work itself out in due time.”
“No, see, it won’t,” Jordan snapped back. “Because this mountain we’re under, it’s the wrong mountain. We’re supposed to be climbing Everest by now. Mount Everest? Heard of it? But we’re stuck under this stupid mountain nobody’s ever heard of—”
“Mount Kanchenjunga,” one of the other monks gently informed him.
“Whatever! My point is no one cares because it’s not Everest! And it’s who-knows-how-many-miles from—”
“Eighty,” Eldon said, holding up his pocket atlas.
“Eighty miles from where we need to be! So thank you very much, but if we don’t make it to Everest, we’ll run out of time!”
The monk smiled at him. “Far better to run out of time on the wrong path, so that you may find time to wander upon the right one.”
He handed Jordan a cup of tea. Jordan stared back, then looked over at Eldon and Abbie. “Am I the only one who isn’t completely insane right now?”
They casually sipped from their cups. “We should really tell him,” Eldon said.
“I dunno,” Abbie sighed. “It’s pretty fun watching him freak out.”
“Tell me what?” Jordan said. “SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON!”
“Turn around, dorkface,” Abbie said. “And try not to hurt yourself.”
Jordan turned. On the large, smooth rock wall behind him was a carving. Jordan recognized it immediately.
“Oh. Okay. That’s the, uh . . .”
“The Yeti,” one of the mountain monks said. “Do you know him?”
“Me? Haven’t had the pleasure, no. So he’s . . . is he in?”
All the monks suddenly glanced at one another, then began to frantically search about. They looked behind each other, checked inside their robe pockets, peeked under tiny rocks. “Good heavens,” one of them said. “We’ve misplaced the Yeti again!” They all burst out laughing. Eldon and Abbie joined in.
“Okay, very funny,” Jordan said. “He isn’t here. I get it. Stupid question.”
“No, no, he’s here,” the monk said. “He just lives upstairs.” Jordan, Abbie, and Eldon all looked up the wall with the cave painting on it, stretching high and away above them. “Like, way upstairs. Come. I will show you.”
A few monks led Jordan, Abbie, Eldon, and Morris through the slot canyons, deeper into the heart of Mount Kanchenjunga. The Kappa was careful not to spill his sari as they reached a humid cavern where more monks sat around, chatting happily and enjoying the steamy air.
“What are your names?” Abbie finally asked her guides.
“We do not have names,” one of the monks said. “Names are labels, for things. We are not things. We simply . . . are.”
“We have to call you something. If you did have a name, what would it be?”
He contemplated for a moment. “I’ve always thought ‘Jagger’ would be cool.”
“Wow,” Eldon said. “Jagger, this place is incredible.”
“And no one knows you guys are here?” Jordan said.
The monk not named Jagger gently shook his head. “Mount Kanchenjunga is the second tallest mountain in the Himalayas, after Everest. As you said, few have heard of number two, and few care. Which is nice for us. Those who fixate on the biggest and the strongest sometimes miss what is special about the meek.”
Abbie smiled at this and glanced at Morris, who grinned contentedly.
“Jagger,” Eldon said. “It’s critical that we see the Yeti. We’re Creature Keepers.”
Jordan leaned close and showed off his golden badge. “Elite Creature Keepers.”
“Yeah, we figured. It’s why we let you in.”
“You saw the badge?” Jordan asked.
“No. Not everyone travels around with the Japanese Kappa. Also, you bear a resemblance to a Keeper I knew many years ago. Come.”
The monk not named Jagger crossed the cavern floor and led them to a set of steps leading up to a circular altar carved out of the stone wall. Decorating the walls around it were more carvings similar to the one of the Yeti, but much more detailed. These carvings told a story. And the monk not named Jagger began to tell it.
“We are now directly beneath the heart of Mount Kanchenjunga, a holy mountain protected for centuries by our ancestors.” He pointed to various symbols, all surrounded by a large pyramid shape representing the mountain. “Kanchenjunga means ‘the five treasures of the high snow,’ which the early worshippers considered to be gold, silver, gems, grain, and sacred texts. As other tribes heard of these treasures, they threatened to climb and loot the mountain. So a myth was created to frighten people away—the Rakshasa, or Kanchenjunga Demon, was a fearsome beast who protected these treasures.” He pointed to a crude but scary-looking Yeti-like character carved atop the pyramid. “Of course, like many myths, the Rakshasa was based on something half real.”
“So there’s a real demon creature up there,” Abbie said.
“Demon, no. Creature, yes.” The monk pointed to the next carving. A Yeti symbol stood atop a new pyramid, with four smaller peaks, two jutting up from either side. Eldon stared up at it as the monk continued. “He’d always been there, as long as anyone could remember. But not to protect any treasure, or even the mountain. In our legends, the Yeti is the mountain. He is the ice and snow. The wind, the weather. He is part of Mount Kanchenjunga, and it is a part of him. They are one and the same.”
“Are the five treasures half true, too?” Jordan said. “Like, two and a half treasures?”
“No.” Eldon was still staring up at the five pyramids that symbolized the Kanchenjunga mountain range. “Look. The five treasures of the high snow.”
“Please, I’m telling a story. It’s a bit rude to jump ahead.” The monk continued to tell his story. “Over the centuries, people forgot about old myths. Climbing and conquering became the desire of man. Luckily for my people, there was a bigger treasure to be had, which lay a safe distance west of here.” The carving showed small stick figures lined before a much bigger mountain. “Eighty miles to the west,” Jordan said. “Everest.”
The last carving showed the five peaks again, with smaller stick figures inside of the central one, and the Yeti atop it.
“Then came us, the mountain monks. Gatekeepers to Mount Kanchenjunga. From beneath its deepest base we protected its highest peak. No one was allowed to pass. And no human hand has ever touched its crown.”
Jordan pointed to a lone, carved stick figure above the line of monks, halfway up the central mountain. “What about that guy? Who’s this?”
“He is the one you remind me of. The one human who proved himself worthy to pass. He climbed to the top of Mount Kanchenjunga. Like you, he found his way to Banyan Canyon because he was destined to come here. He called himself an explorer, although he did not know what it was he was seeking. He had made a terrible mistake. He was running away from that mistake, but had grown tired of running. And so he stopped here. He lived with us and embraced our ways. He learned to trust us, and soon, himself. And that’s when he was granted access to the treasures of the high snow.”
Jordan studied the carvings that told the story he was hearing. As he listened to the monk, he felt a strange excitement awaken in his chest.
“The young exp
lorer was sent up Mount Kanchenjunga with one simple rule—that he stop short of conquering her peak. The very top of the mountain was to remain sacred, untouched by humans. He gave his word, and once he reached the top, he kept that word. He did not know it, but this was his final test. The test of humility. Not many men could resist such a conquest. But this man was special. And that is why he won the final trust of the one he did not realize he was seeking.”
“The Yeti,” Eldon whispered.
Jordan’s heart was beating faster. He watched as Abbie asked the exact question he was thinking. “This explorer,” she said. “What was his name?”
The Kanchenjungan mountain monk smiled. “I believe you both already know the answer to that question.”
Jordan said it aloud first. “George Grimsley.”
The mountain monk not named Jagger smiled gently. “Duh,” he said.
16
Morris made soft gurgling sounds as the monk patted him on his head. “You are pure of heart and have the wisdom of the earth, my dear creature. But it was not you who brought your friends here.”
“Then who did?” Eldon asked.
“I believe it was Kanchenjunga herself who summoned you. She asked the rivers to direct you to her, the currents to deliver you. And so, here you are.”
Standing near the altar, they turned around to see all the other monks on their feet, staring at them in silence. The monk not named Jagger gestured toward the stone steps. “Grandchildren of George Grimsley, you two may pass.”
The silent monks bowed their heads in unison as Jordan and Abbie slowly climbed the steps. Abbie stopped halfway. “Wait,” she said. “Morris is my responsibility. I won’t leave him alone again.”
“Of course,” the monk said. “Our rules are made by men, for men. This cryptid is a sacred creature, free to come and go as he pleases.”
Morris looked at Abbie. “Master?” he said. “What would you have me do?”
Abbie smiled at him. “Do what you want to do,” she said. Morris grinned and ran toward her, excitedly sloshing some of the water out of his bowl. “Whoa,” Abbie said. “But let’s try not to spill, okay? Kind of a rule.”
Jordan turned back to face Eldon. The First-Class Badger Ranger forced a smile as he raised his hand in a Badger claw salute. “Don’t worry about me, Elite Keepers. I’ll hold down the fort here at base camp! You get up there and protect that cryptid!”
The mountain monk handed Jordan and Abbie heavy coats. “Yak wool,” he said. “Nice and toasty.” He led Jordan, Abbie, and Morris into the round chamber. It was actually a shaft that led straight up, disappearing beyond what Jordan could see, into darkness. A chilly breeze came from above. He and Abbie pulled their coats on.
The monk lifted a small mallet. “Remember, please—not a single human toe on the peak.” He swung the mallet and struck a bell that hung within a hollowed cutout in the stone wall beside the round room. The tone reverberated all around them, echoing throughout the chamber and over their heads. Jordan, Abbie, and Morris stood in the center and peered upward into the dark shaft as the tone vibrated, louder and faster.
As the last vibrations from the bell faded, snowflakes began gently drifting down the dark shaft. Morris giggled as he stuck out his tongue to catch them. A whistling sound grew louder high above them as a blast of mountain air rushed down, washing over them. The gust picked up, swirling the light snow dust all around their feet, waists, shoulders, and heads.
The snow was soon whipping around them, thicker and faster. Through the moving wall of white, Jordan could barely make out Eldon’s silhouette. He pulled his yak-wool coat tightly around him.
WHOOSH! In an instant, Jordan’s feet left the ground. He, Abbie, and Morris flew straight up the shaft, spinning higher and higher in the billowing spiral of the dark, snowy cyclone. They shot up at an incredible pace until they finally reached daylight, flying out the top, bursting into the thin, cold mountain air.
Jordan landed headfirst in a snowbank. He pulled himself out and spit a mouthful of snow. The wind had stopped whirling, and all was calm and silent, muffled by the thick snow covering everything. He stood up and looked around. He was standing on the top of the highest summit, looking out at the four lower peaks of Mount Kanchenjunga. “The five treasures,” he said to himself. This wasn’t Mount Everest, but he felt like he’d arrived at the top of the world.
“Morris!” Jordan turned toward the sound of Abbie’s voice. She was yelling from a few yards away. As she waded through a snowbank near a small grove of evergreen trees, Jordan ran to her. “I can’t find him,” she said, upset and frightened. “What if he spilled his sara again! If he turns to stone, this time he can’t be changed back!”
“I’m sure he’s okay,” Jordan said. “He could’ve landed anywhere. Keep looking!”
The air was freezing as they searched. They approached a snow-covered outcropping and heard a soft yelp pierce the still air. Abbie ran toward it. She circled the rock and trudged higher along a path leading upward, running faster, until—
“Abbie, no!” She froze in her tracks. He caught up to her and pointed at her feet. “Look.”
The path before them ran straight to the peak of Mount Kanchenjunga—a ledge that stopped at nothing but sky. The snow between that crest and where they stood was pristine, whiter than white, sparkling in the sunlight. Untouched by man.
Another Kappa squeal sounded out, from just over the ledge. “I know we promised, but I have to go,” Abbie said. She went to take a step onto the pure snow, when a shadow fell over them both. Something large appeared at the top ledge, blocking out the sunlight. It slowly lifted its arms and held over its head the unmistakable silhouette of a half shell.
“Morris!” Abbie cried. The shadow-beast leaped toward them headfirst, holding the shell upside down beneath it. WUMP! Morris’s shell hit the pure snow as the creature holding him belly flopped atop him and came sledding down the hill, straight for Abbie and Jordan.
They leaped out of the way as a white-and-green blur whooshed past, plunging into a snowbank. Abbie and Jordan ran down toward the crash to hear the muffled squeal of Morris, laughing hysterically, trying to catch his breath.
“Again! Again!”
Two little clawed feet stuck out the exposed end of the shell as they reached him.
“Morris! Are you all right?”
Morris’s smiling face poked out of the back of the shell-sled. “Hello, master! Meet my new friend, Wilford!” Abbie and Jordan stepped back as the snowbank seemed to come to life. A white-furred back stood and shook the snow off itself, spraying them with powder. Jordan and Abbie stood in awe, staring up at the Yeti.
Wilford the Yeti looked most similar to Syd the Sasquatch, or Bernard the Skunk Ape. He was humanoid in form, and a biped, meaning he walked on two legs. He had apelike features: long arms and legs, and fur covering his entire body. But unlike Syd and Bernard, he wasn’t a bulky or muscular creature. He was more thin and gangly, like an orangutan.
Most notably, however, was what hung beneath his nose. Wilford’s thick, white, incredibly bushy mustache was encrusted with ice and snow. It sparkled with frost and twinkled with tiny icicles, and made him look a bit like he’d either fallen asleep with his head in a freezer, or had just won a plain-flavored snow-cone-eating contest. At the same time, it conveyed great age and wisdom. In fact, the Yeti reminded Jordan of an ancient but scrappy windswept tree—one better suited than a thick, massive redwood to survive the elements because it could willingly bend and bounce back.
Wilford studied Jordan and Abbie closely. There was a long silence until finally that great mustache rose as he opened his mouth to speak.
“Your friend here makes a righteous sled.”
“Uh, thanks,” Jordan said.
“Perfect for sliding all three of you back down off the top of my mountain.” The Yeti turned and began to trudge back up toward his peak.
Abbie shot Wilford an angry glare, then knelt down next to Morris. “Ar
e you all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, master. It was fun!”
“What about your sara? How did you not spill?”
Morris bent his head toward her. “Look!” He tapped the top of his head. The water in his sara had frozen into a solid block of ice. “The cold turned my water to stone, so that I don’t have to! I can now go with the flow, master! Anywhere I like!”
17
“Wait! Mr. Wilford, sir!”
The Yeti had made it halfway back up to the peak when he stopped and turned. He stared down at Jordan, still standing at the edge of the untouched snow.
“Please, no titles. It’s just Wilford.”
“Listen, we’re not trespassers. The monks allowed us up.”
Wilford contemplated this for a moment before answering. “No. The monks rang the bell. I allowed you up. And now, I’m allowing you to go back down.”
Abbie joined her brother at the edge of the sacred snow. “We’re not here as guests. We came as a favor. To warn you. There’s someone searching for you.”
“There is always someone searching for me,” Wilford said. “And that someone is myself.”
“Oh, brother.” Abbie rolled her eyes. “Look. We’re Creature Keepers. We’re here to offer you protection. It’s what we do.”
“I am fully conscious of the Creature Keepers. And I invented what they do.” He turned to go again. “But none of this is my concern.”
“Then you must know about Chupacabra,” Jordan said.
Wilford stopped and turned back. “Chupacabra. There’s a name I have not heard in a long time.”
“He wants to steal your Blizzard-Bristles,” Abbie said. “He thinks you’re on Everest. We believe he’s headed there now.”
“Then it sounds like he is just as lost as he ever was. And again, not my concern.”
Abbie was so growing so angry, she almost stepped forward onto the sacred snow. “I guess it’s pretty easy to just sit on a mountaintop and not let anything be your concern.”