by K. T. Tomb
Min felt the tears well up in her eyes and spill over the brims. He spoke with great honesty and conviction. She knew in that moment that he really was the man. He held a deeper power than he realized and his heart was pure. How could she possibly answer him? She had hoped that he would follow her to their destiny, but he clearly was not ready; perhaps he would never be ready. She would have to prepare herself for that possibility. She would follow the second part of her plan instead.
“Very well,” she whispered as she grasped his hand and held it tightly in her own. “Tomorrow we will begin our journey toward India where you will be able to go free.” Having said all that she needed or was able to say, she released his hand, rose from the blanket and walked away.
Chapter Eighteen
Max had believed that nothing could have made him more miserable than to see Min walk away from him that day as they sat beside the trickling stream and spoke for the last time; touched for the last time. He had been wrong. Packing the provisions that they would take on the yaks without a glance or a touch from her was much worse. The few words that she spoke were all business and she avoided contact of any kind with him.
Min’s grandmother did not change. She remained the loving, positive influence to them both and acted as if there was nothing going on between them. Max could hardly believe that the old woman couldn’t see and feel the change in the atmosphere, but he realized that she was remaining neutral in the entire affair as though they were having a quarrel rather than moving toward their ultimate separation. When the yaks were loaded and they were ready to depart, the tiny old woman took his hands in hers and looked deep into his eyes.
“Bend down here, my son; I don’t have a ladder just now.”
Max did as he was asked.
“Stay strong! You are more than you think you are,” she said, placing both hands on his cheeks and pulling him close so that no one else would hear her. She kissed him on each cheek and then released him. “You come back and see this old woman, Max Harper.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said. He could feel tears rising up in his eyes and tightness in his chest. It felt as though he was leaving home again. He wondered if he would ever see her again, if he would ever make the effort to do as he had just promised. He leaned down and kissed her forehead and then stepped aside as Min said her goodbyes.
He turned away as he felt the tears begin to overwhelm him while he watched the heartfelt goodbye that passed between them. It would have been a normal, “see you later,” for most grandmothers and granddaughters, but behind their goodbye was a legend that they both believed; a legend from which Min would never return. In that moment, he hated the legend and the prophecy with everything in him.
Min looked up at him with one last look that would linger in his mind for the rest of his life. Without a word, she pled with him to believe her and love her. She communicated a deep pain in the split second of that look and an even deeper love, but she shrouded it quickly and whispered. “Let’s go.”
No thundering cacophony could match the earsplitting silence that lingered between them as during the three day journey which they made toward the windswept plateau on the verge of the mountains. Miles upon miles of ridges and valleys were visible below them and he had the sense that he was standing on top of the world, though he also felt incredibly small next to the looming peaks which guarded the plateau with a majestic grandeur.
As badly as Max wanted to break the silence between them and explain himself, he understood that it would only cause more tension between them. They were both set on their own course. She was on a fool’s errand that she believed to be her destiny and he was on the verge of being free to continue to make his. Their views couldn’t be further from one another, but there was a problem.
There was a nagging feeling in his gut that wouldn’t let go of him. He tried to fight it down, but it continued to revisit him with misery. Neither of them ate much, though they had expended a great deal of energy in the climb. They did not pass time around the fire as they might have if their mood was a lighter one, but instead retired early to their respective tents and tossed throughout the night with the frozen air doing its best to nip away at them.
Before dusk on the third day, Min stopped the yaks on the windswept plateau and turned to him. He could see every ounce of pain in her eyes as she looked at him. With each word that she spoke, he could see the pain of a twisted dagger on her face.
“Hidden upon that mountain is the palace of Wang Mu.” She motioned toward a massive, bald faced peak, the top of which could not be seen for a band of thick clouds. “There, is a path that will lead you out of Tibet and into India.” She motioned toward a low place in the bald ridge in the opposite direction.
Max swallowed and searched her face when she had finished. The moment had arrived and he started to speak, but she cut him off.
“In your pack, you will find a passport that has been crafted using someone else’s name in order to protect your identity. The growth of beard should be sufficient disguise to get you across the border into India.”
He stepped toward her, but she put up her hands and took a step backward. “No, Max, please don’t, it will only make it harder.” She turned away from him and began the work of taking down her things and setting up her tent.
He lingered a moment as he watched her set up her tent, hoping that she would relent for a moment and allow him one last touch, one last opportunity to plead with her, but once she was finished with the task, she slipped inside and zipped it closed behind her.
He glanced toward the pass and up at the majestic guardian of the plateau and Min’s supposed hidden palace each in turn. In one direction was his freedom, a return to the work and life that he knew, a chance to go back to Burlington and look in on his mother before another assignment came and a chance to go on living as he had been before. In the other was the foolish errand which was backed by some ancient legend that spoke of destiny, dark lords and immortality. No one was immortal except God himself; even He didn’t lay out such ridiculous plans of destiny; he let people choose their own destiny and create their own path.
Just as he said it, a sudden realization came to him. If it’s so silly and foolish, why not just play it out? What would it hurt to take a hike up into the depths of that mountain with the woman that he… he paused. Had the thought really entered his mind? Was she really the woman that he loved?
He considered the bindings on the back on the yak’s back; he could take his things down and set up his tent beside hers and follow what she believed was their destiny, or he could be on his way. He glanced at her tent, not sure what he expected to see or what answer would be found in its rippling canvas. And then he sighed heavily, pulled on the lead rope of the yak, and began to walk.
Chapter Nineteen
When Yung left Beijing behind, he traveled to another province where there was a group of men that he knew quite well. They were known for two things: their lack of scruples and their hatred of the Tibetan people. He had used the former to accomplish some of his purposes in the past and they had proven to be a sound investment toward his own purposes; using the Communist Party’s money, of course.
They numbered three dozen men who were trained killers and quite adept at their art. They had been allowed to control a small corner of a southwestern province next to the border of Tibet and allowed to raid and stir up trouble to their heart’s content while the Chinese Army looked the other way. They had been given that freedom because of a manipulation by Yung in the past. He had reasoned with commanders up the chain of command that allowing their group to do as they pleased in Tibet would keep the Tibetan people off balance and prevent them from being able to pull together any kind of movement toward independence.
The military leaders had bought his argument, not knowing that his true intention was to set aside his own little private army. Though they were not equipped with all of the most modern gadgets that the regular military had, the ones that they did possess were ma
de use of to their fullest potential in the hands of ruthless men and under the leadership of Shu.
“I resigned my position,” he said quietly as he sipped the warm liquor and sat across the table from Shu.
Shu cracked a smile, but said nothing, merely raising his glass in a toast.
“We’re going into Tibet.”
“Delightful,” he said. The chilling smile was a great deal more like the baring of a wolf’s teeth than any form of joy.
Seeing the grin on Shu’s face, Yung expected him to lick his lips at any moment and start foaming at the mouth. Yung took a long gulp from the glass, set it back on the table and poured another, extending the bottle toward Shu’s empty glass as well.
“When?”
“How long will it take to be ready?”
“Five days,” Shu replied after a moment. “Some of the men must be found.”
Yung raised an eyebrow.
“I give them some freedom when it comes to wandering over the border and having a good time.” Shu grinned as he answered the question. “Some of them say that Tibetan women are delicious.” He chuckled softly.
Though Yung had never quite shared Shu’s appetite for women, especially Tibetan women, he had never shied away from partaking in some forceful, non-consensual sex if it was available.
“I could provide a treat for you this evening and a new one each night until we’re ready to leave if you like.”
Shu’s offer was tempting, but he had bigger plans in mind. He wanted the rape the entire of country of Tibet. He wanted to drive the people to their knees and make them beg him for mercy. If he was going to rape another woman, he wanted to do it in a Tibetan temple in the most holy part and then crush her body with the rubble as it fell down upon her.
“Five days, then,” he said, letting the heat from another gulp of the strong liquor flow down his throat. He poured another and wondered what it would be like to rape and kill the “great goddess Wang Mu,” if she even existed. The legend said that she was quite beautiful. He would kill the “hero” and have his way with her in her own palace. No, wait, he would make the “hero” watch; it would be so much more delightful that way.
He imagined the face of Max Harper looking on as he took her virginity right in front of him. He could picture the horror on the face of the man whom he despised so greatly. He had hated the man the moment that he saw him. He had an innocent, useless look to him that angered him. He had never really taken the time to figure out why, but just allowed his hatred to push his plan for his execution forward. He realized that he would get to carry out that execution himself. He would do it slowly, enjoying every scream.
Max Harper and Wang Mu were a small portion of the whole plan, though they would be a very pleasant beginning to his reign. He smiled at the thought of undoing the entire legend and once again making fools of the people and religious leadership of Tibet. The thoughts had stirred inside his groin as he gulped down one more shot and then stood.
“Why don’t you have one of those treats sent to my room?” He sat his glass on the table and strode out of the bar.
Chapter Twenty
Min used every resource inside of herself to keep from breaking down when she offered Max the choice to stay or go. She had immediately turned away from him and began unpacking and setting up her tent in order to avoid the answer that was coming. She had nearly weakened when he reached for her, but had somehow been able to remain strong and hold fast to her conviction.
“He’s the kind of man whose honor runs deep. When the time comes, he will do the right thing.” The words of her grandmother echoed in her head. It had been her hope and was what had kept her strong throughout the last three days. She hoped her grandmother was right.
When she collapsed inside her tent and quieted her breathing, hoping to hear some sound that would reveal his decision; the sound of him setting up his tent or of his retreating footsteps, she prayed that her grandmother had been right.
As the silence lingered, she hoped that their love was deep enough to overcome the enormous gap that had sprung up between them. As the thought came to her, she realized that she was already counting on their love to save the day. He had never said the words and neither had she, but she had felt the power of their love in her soul. She knew with all of her heart that their future and their destiny would be joined. She waited breathlessly for the sign that it was about to begin, but what she heard instead split her heart in two.
The sound of his retreating steps and those of the yak echoed through her mind even as she buried her face in her pack and sobbed. Her grandmother had been wrong. Her own faith in him had been wrong. Worse yet, he did not even believe in himself. He did not believe in the true man that was deep inside of him; the man who was more powerful than many who had sat on golden thrones throughout the ages. He had chosen his own freedom instead of their destiny.
Darkness and the chill of the night crept in upon her as her sobs ceased in the early morning hours and she sat with the dull ache of her loss resting heavy in her chest. She could hardly breathe and many times during the long night, hoped that each breath would be her last and that her destiny would be fulfilled without going through the formalities of the legend.
The light of dawn found her exhausted from crying, empty of all hope and resolved to carry out the loveless death in the palace of her own destiny. Silently, she packed her things and tied them to the back of the yak and started on her way.
A snowstorm threatened in the dark clouds above, but she ignored it. She saw nothing on either side of her, nor did she look behind her; she faced the mountain and sought the trail that would lead her up into its vastness where she would either find the hidden palace or wander until her body became as lifeless as her spirit.
With each step, she tried to force out each of the sweet memories of Max that kept popping into her mind. She loved him and he had betrayed her. The legend had betrayed her. She had believed it since birth, accepted her destiny, trained for it and even longed for its bittersweet end. Even though she knew that death lay at the end of it, she believed with every ounce of hope within her that love would not be separated and she would not die. It was the only thing that kept her moving forward and kept her believing. Each rise she conquered brought a realization that she no longer had any hope left to grasp.
Wondering if she could take one more step, she heard something that made her stop and look up from the trail. It was the call of a yak up ahead. Her own yak had answered it. Who would be on the same trail? Had she been on the trail that led over the path, she might have believed what she was hearing, but there was no reason for anyone to be on the trail up into the mountain.
With something new on which to focus her mind, she pushed forward until she could see a tent with a yak tethered nearby. Perhaps someone had wandered off the trail or some foreigner was seeking the glory of climbing the mountain. They typically came with large outfits and plenty of friends for support, however, so she dismissed the second notion the moment it came to mind. Someone had wandered off the trail. It would be best if she performed the kindness of setting them right again.
As she drew nearer to the tent and the yak, however, a different understanding began to take its place in her mind. She knew that yak. She had seen it every day for three days. Had someone stolen the animal from Max; stolen his provisions and left him dead on the pass? She quickened her pace, anger rising inside of her as she fingered the handle of her sword. As she approached and made ready to call out to whomever was inside the tent, she heard the zipper open and saw the flap being pushed aside by the beautiful head of Max Harper.
Without a word, she dropped the lead rope of her yak and rushed toward him. He caught her in his arms and held her so tightly that she was afraid that she would never breathe again. Breathing didn’t matter, the man that she loved, Max Harper, had not abandoned her. He was with her, she was in his arms. She pulled back and looked up at him, smiling through her tears.
“I thought I�
��d take a hike and check out this secret palace everyone’s been talking about,” he said as he grinned. “Wish I had my camera so I could get some good pictures of it.”
Min buried her face in his chest. Her sobbing began anew, but its source was very different.
Chapter Twenty-one
They followed the trail until it disappeared into a slide of rock that was hundreds of years old and extended on for as far as they could see. Where had the path led? Did it continue around the slope moving gradually upward at the same grade as before or go slightly downward? If they followed the line of the path initially, who was to say that it hadn’t changed its course and gone in a completely different direction?
Min sat for a moment and closed her eyes and Max watched her without saying a word. Very likely there was no palace and they had spent the last several days wandering around the mountain in search of something that did not exist, but he kept his thoughts to himself. As long as he was going to be with her, he might as well believe that what she was seeking was true.
The more he considered it, perhaps there was some sort of a quest to overcome, whether real or in fantasy. He thought that it was quite possible that whatever it was that was in the legend that had made Min believe in it so strongly, it was something that had to be fulfilled before she could relax and be herself. The dark lord, the battle and her death might all be some sort of symbolic portions of some great quest in which Min would find herself and her purpose in life.
He had convinced himself the night that he strode away from the windswept plateau that if the legend wasn’t true or was nothing more than symbolic that it would certainly do him no harm to explore it with her. A palace, a dark lord, a peach tree with immortal fruit and a great battle were far beyond the realm of existence, so there was really no threat to him or any real danger in it all. The Chinese Army certainly wouldn’t waste any time searching for him up on the slopes of the mountain, so he would certainly remain free and then he and Min could leave when she had finished her quest.