by Peter Nelson
“Actually, it’s a lot harder than I make it look,” Wilford said calmly.
Abbie continued. “What about the innocent people who live in the areas surrounding Everest? Are they your concern? Because when Chupacabra doesn’t find what he’s looking for, they’ll be in danger!”
“She’s right, sir,” Jordan said. “Chupacabra has gotten more powerful. He’s stolen Nessie’s Hydro-Hide and one of Syd’s Soil-Soles. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. And the next thing he wants is your Blizzard Bristles.”
Wilford stared at the two of them for a moment. He looked past them, at Morris happily playing in the snow. “He seeks the power of the Perfect Storm.”
“Yes!” Jordan exclaimed. “You’ve heard of it!”
Wilford stroked his thick, icy mustache. “He’ll never get it. With my Blizzard-Bristles, I can summon ice crystals to show me what is happening anywhere in the world. I can send a single snowflake to the other end of the earth and land it on the wing of a ladybug—or just as easily blanket an entire continent in a hundred feet of powder. Chupacabra can seek all he wants. But he will never take my Blizzard-Bristles from me.”
“Well, that’s great for you and your ’stache-sicle,” Abbie said. “But when he turns Everest upside down looking for them, a lot of innocent people will get hurt—or worse!”
“I use my elemental power to control all wind and weather on the planet. I do this to try and keep the world in balance as best I can. What people do within that world—that is not my concern.”
“Fine.” Abbie spun around and began heading back toward Morris. “Let’s get out of here and let this frozen jerk keep searching for himself.” Abbie yelled up to Wilford. “Maybe someday he’ll find his heart.”
Wilford turned and began trudging toward the peak. Piff! A snowball exploded against the back of his head. Jordan glared up him, angrily readying another snowball.
Wilford looked past Jordan at his grinning sister. “Wait, I’m confused,” the Yeti said. “I thought she was the rude one.”
“My sister isn’t rude, she’s right—you are a jerk! Our Grampa Grimsley was people, and you helped him!” He whipped a second snowball up at Wilford.
The Yeti ducked. “You two are descendants of George Grimsley?”
“You bet your blizzard butt,” Jordan continued. “And he’d be disgusted to know you could’ve helped a bunch of people in Tibet who would be hurt by his archenemy but chose to do nothing! Now I get why they call you abominable.”
“Okay, that was just hurtful,” Wilford said. “You two wanna see something abominable? Follow me.” The Yeti trudged down the hill, past Jordan and past Abbie. He walked to the edge of a cliff, where he scooped up a handful of powdery snow. As Jordan and Abbie approached, Wilford took a deep breath and blew the crystals into the air. Flakes whooshed through the sky in a trail of white, toward the west, like a river of diamonds. The ones that lingered sparkled and floated overhead. Colors and reflections began to form within the crystals. Suddenly, floating above them, was a moving image. It was a small, sunny village at the base of a mountain. A sign read: Everest Adventures. Crowds of mountain climbers were coming and going, gathering gear, eating, drinking, and getting ready to climb. They were noisy and messy; Jordan even thought he spotted a few of them littering.
“Look at them,” Wilford said. “You see? These are the people you’re asking me to protect. None of them is the human George Grimsley was. Your grandfather understood and respected the natural world. These men wish only to conquer it. For sport and for ego. What your grandfather accomplished was greater and more challenging than climbing any mountain peak. Rather than seek fortune or fame, he kept his greatest accomplishment secret from other men. For the good of the world. He was the opposite of these people. These people are the abominable ones. And they are not my concern.”
“Okay,” Abbie said. “So maybe those humans are gross. And lame. And stupid. But they don’t deserve to be hurt. When Chupacabra arrives there looking for you, whatever happens will happen because you let it happen—whether you consider it your concern or not.”
She looked down at Morris. “Let’s get you off this mountaintop. It’s suddenly gotten a lot colder up here.” Morris glanced up at Wilford, then dutifully followed his master.
Wilford looked down at Jordan. “I suppose you have something to say as well.”
“Just that I think you’re right,” Jordan said. “My grandfather was better than those people. I know he was a great man who did great things, and not for fortune or fame. But I also know that if he were here, he’d do whatever he could to help them. And so will I.” Jordan turned away from the Yeti and followed Abbie and Morris.
Piff! A snowball slammed into the back of Jordan’s head. The three of them spun around. Wilford stood staring out over the edge of the cliff. He took a deep breath, sucking in the freezing mountain air. He faced west and exhaled. The air passed through his giant mustache of Blizzard-Bristles and soared away into the sky in a blue, sparkling gust. Then he turned back to them. “Done,” he said. “You can both stop making me feel horrible now. Okay?”
“Abominable,” Abbie said. “Not horrible. What was that? Some Yeti-yoga deep-breathing exercise?”
“Look, a snowstorm!” Morris was pointing up to the sparkling powder image of the Everest village, still hanging in the air. Jordan and Abbie gathered to see. The scene was changing before their eyes, as the cold front Wilford had sent out arrived at the base camp eighty miles away. Wind began knocking over chairs and tables, blowing the coffee cups and litter around as the snow whipped in. The people bundled up and ran indoors to take shelter.
“Another way these people are unlike your grandfather,” Wilford said. “They’re such wimps. That storm will have them hunkering down in their goose-down comforters and indoor hot tubs for days. They’ll be safe and sound and well out of Chupacabra’s way.”
“Okay,” Abbie said. “I’ve gotta admit, that was pretty cool.”
The Yeti smiled for the first time. “Cool? That was subzero, kid.”
“Thank you,” Jordan said. “But there are probably hundreds of base villages like that one at the foot of Everest. Even you can’t just white them all out and hope no one steps outside. You don’t know what Chupacabra is capable of now. Last we saw him was in the deserts of Xinjiang, and he nearly killed us. He needs to be stopped, once and for all.”
“What else do you want me to do?”
“Come with us,” Abbie said. “Help us stop him.”
“No, no,” Wilford said. “That’s not possible. I don’t leave my mountain. Not for you, certainly not for him, not for anyone. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it’s simply—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Abbie said, walking off again. “It’s not your concern. We got that.”
Jordan gave Wilford one last long look, then sadly turned to follow his sister again. Wilford watched them, then felt two large eyes staring at him. He turned and looked.
“Well?” Wilford said to Morris. “Shouldn’t you be off, too?”
“I wish to thank you. For playing with me before. That was fun.”
“Uh, sure. Anytime.”
“And thank you for sending George Grimsley to play with me. That was fun, too.”
Wilford was struck by this. So was Jordan, who stopped and turned around.
“What are you talking about,” the Yeti said to the Kappa.
“Thousands of moons ago, my friend George Grimsley told me how it had been a great cryptid, high up on a mountain, who showed him the path that led him to me. I believe that was you. So, thank you.” As he bowed, the ice in his sara didn’t move.
“Morris, c’mon!” Abbie hollered. “You’re not his concern!”
“You should probably go,” Wilford said.
“As you wish. But if you happen to know of any other paths, please do let us know. We could really use one right now.”
As he watched Morris trot off, he locked eyes with Jordan.
“Wait,” the Yeti said. “There’s something you should probably see before you go.”
18
Abbie and Jordan left Morris playing contentedly in the snow and followed Wilford along a narrow ledge that hugged the side of the mountain. It was frosted with snow, and Jordan and Abbie chose each step very carefully—doing their best not to look down.
They slowly rounded the mountaintop until they reached the northern face of Mount Kanchenjunga. Here the ledge thankfully began to widen, opening up to a steep incline. Like the sacred patch they’d seen on the southern side, lying before them was a wide path of untouched snow, leading up to the mountain’s peak. It sparkled and twinkled like nothing Abbie or Jordan had ever seen before.
Wilford led them both right up to the edge of the sparkling path and pointed. There before them in the otherwise perfect snow was a set of footprints, leading up the slope to the top of the mountain. And unless the Yeti wore a roughly size ten hiking boot, they were made by a human.
“Whose are those?” Abbie asked.
Jordan crouched down and touched the boot print. The inside of it wasn’t soft, like the snow surrounding it. The print was solid ice. “It’s Grampa Grimsley’s, isn’t it.”
Wilford nodded. “The only human I’ve ever given access to the fifth treasure.”
“But how are they still here after so many years?” Abbie asked.
Wilford answered by blowing gently on the tracks. A glistening sheen covered the boot prints, resealing them in sparkling blue ice.
Jordan stood up and looked into Wilford’s eyes. “You preserved them.”
Abbie smirked at the Yeti. “So for all your chilly-hearted, ‘not my concern’ abominableness, inside you’re just a big ol’ gooey marshmallow, aren’t you?”
“Not at all. I just know how rare a pure heart can be. And I can recognize two more when I see them.” Wilford stepped back and gestured toward the tracks.
Jordan and Abbie exchanged glances. “But we swore to the mountain monks we wouldn’t step on the sacred snow,” Jordan said. “I think we should keep our promise.”
“And so you will. That is, if you can walk in your grandfather’s footsteps.”
Jordan looked down at the boot tracks, then up at the peak a few hundred feet above. Its shimmering snow sparkled in the sunlight. He carefully lifted his foot and placed it inside the first icy indentation. Then he did it again, taking another step.
Methodically placing one foot at a time inside their grandfather’s ancient tracks, Jordan and Abbie treaded more cautiously than they had on the icy ridge. After a few minutes, they stepped out of the very last footprint—and onto the peak of Mount Kanchenjunga.
The two Elite Keepers stood there, frozen. Not from the snow that covered their shoes but from the breathtaking sight that was laid out before them.
“The five treasures of the high snow,” Jordan said.
Extending out of billowing drifts of the whitest, fluffiest snow they’d ever seen was a smooth, flat rock, jutting into the deep blue sky like a diving platform. Below it, Mount Kanchenjunga’s northern face fell away toward the four smaller peaks. Beyond those, the great plains of Tibet and the flat deserts of Xinjiang stretched out forever.
“It’s a lot more beautiful than gold or silver,” Abbie said.
“And it’s got grain and sacred texts beat by a mile.” Wilford smiled.
As he stared out past the peaks, Jordan had a strange sensation of two opposite things being possible at the same time. The horizon seemed so far away, and yet, from where he was standing, he also felt like he could take one giant step and be on the other side of it.
“How can such a big world be so small?”
“I believe your grandfather asked a very similar question when I first brought him up here.” Wilford reached out and scooped a pawful of fluffy snow. “It didn’t make much sense to me then, either.” He took a deep breath and blew, sending the twinkling crystals spilling out into the air, drifting toward the north.
“The snow up here seems so different,” Abbie said.
“It’s completely pure. Untouched by humans. It’s been neither weighed down by footprints, nor dirtied up with fingerprints. I’ve done my best work with this stuff. You’re too young to have lived through my big hits. The great snowstorm of the Maritime Alps back in 218 BC, that was a masterpiece. Then there was the New England nor’easter of 1978. That one was wicked, although between you and me it was a bit unplanned. I’d come down with the sniffles, and accidentally let out a whopper of a sneeze. It happens.”
Wilford blew, more gently this time, on the crystals hovering overhead. As the light bounced between them, fuzzy images began to form, as before. He continued to gently blow, studying the images as if he were surfing television channels, then blowing again, scrambling the image and starting over. “Hm,” he said. “Nothing.”
“What are you looking for?” Jordan said.
“Not what. Who. Our friend Chupacabra. You said he was in the deserts to the north. I was hoping to locate him somewhere between the plains and the base of Everest. There’s a lot to survey, but not much out there. I thought we might pick something up.”
“Maybe he’s gone underground again,” Jordan said.
“Or maybe he’s already there,” Abbie added.
Wilford scooped two fresh pawfuls of snow and blasted them into the sky with his Blizzard-Bristles. A cloud of thick, sparkling dust headed due west. Soon the air directly overhead reflected back a wide, sparkling panorama of the majestic Mount Everest. Like a high-security camera feed scanning for intruders, the image consistently changed views and angles of the great mountain.
“I’ve sent out this surveillance storm to continually circle and contain Everest. It will send back any and all disturbances in the natural order of the mountain. It should do a pretty good job keeping people away, too. All we have to do now is wait and watch.”
Jordan stared up at the images floating overhead. They were alive, constantly evolving and updating, swooping through the ridges and canyons of a mountain nearly a hundred miles away. The technical side of his brain was buzzing. “How does this work?”
“My Blizzard-Bristles allow me to do more than just blow snow and wind around. I can direct particles of precipitation out anywhere in the world. Their reflective properties interact with one another in an infinite number of ways. With practice, careful concentration, and very precise breathing techniques, I’ve learned to manipulate those interactions to bounce back reflections, creating a real-time image of what’s happening.”
“Kind of like what a satellite does with radio or sound waves,” Jordan said.
“What I do is provide balance to light and matter. When balance is introduced to the basic elements of the universe, many things are revealed.”
“So what happens when we spot him?” Abbie asked.
Wilford got a gleam in his eye. “That’s when you get to see what these old whiskers can really do. I’ll kick up the force of that storm a few hundred times and unleash it directly on our friend. He’ll be pinned down in a tomb of ice so thick, he won’t thaw out for years.”
A soft, familiar ring suddenly echoed deep within Mount Kanchenjunga, gently reverberating through the cold night air surrounding the peak.
“Dinner bell,” Wilford said. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had guests, but if you’d like, you may stay. Are you hungry?”
Both Jordan and Abbie smiled, suddenly realizing how famished they were.
“All right. Jordan, stay on Everest watch. We’ll be right back. Abbie, let’s go see what the monks have prepared for us. And let’s all just hope it isn’t tofu again.”
Abbie and Wilford made their way back down and around to the southern face of the mountain. They found Morris sliding down a small hill on his shell. The three of them trudged to the edge of the wide-open shaft that led to the inner heart of the mountain. The bell rang out again, echoing upward from the darkness.
Wilford l
eaned over the edge. He took a deep breath and then exhaled gently through his bushy Blizzard-Bristles. An icy wind formed, exactly like the one that had lifted Jordan, Abbie, and Morris to the top of the mountain. It circled inside the shaft, spiraling downward. As it disappeared into the darkness, Abbie and Morris gathered around and peered into the abyss.
The howling wind echoed from below, growing louder as it began to whip back up the shaft. WHOOSH! The frosty gust shot out of the top, blowing Abbie’s hair back. A large covered platter came floating atop the invisible spout of air and flew out of the hole. Wilford took a great leap and caught it, belly flopping into a snowbank. He sat up and smiled at the other two.
“Dinner is served,” he said.
19
Wilford set out thick yak-fur blankets on the large flat rock for his dinner guests to sit on. Then he, Jordan, Abbie, and Morris gathered around the dinner platter. Laid out before them was a feast of rice, soup, fresh fish, and a bright-red paste spread atop delicious, fire-baked bread. “Mmm,” Wilford said. “Banyan fruit jelly, and no tofu in sight. I should have visitors more often.”
Everyone dug in, devouring everything on the platter. As they filled up on fish and rice, Jordan, Abbie, and Wilford kept an eye on the swirling, snowy surveillance image overhead. They warmed their bellies with hot soup and finally smacked their lips on the delicious banyan fruit jelly.
When they were finished, Morris sat back and stared up at the stars that were beginning to appear and twinkle in the darkening sky. Jordan and Abbie watched the ever-changing images of Everest flashing above them. There was still no sign of Chupacabra. They felt a happy fullness in their stomachs followed by a peaceful sleepiness steadily setting in.
Wilford spotted something among the dishes and leftover dinner plates. It was a folded note, with Jordan’s and Abbie’s names on it. He handed it to Jordan, who read it aloud.