City of the Yeti Page 5

  In the middle of the night, I awoke to find the fire burning low and several tall figures standing at the cave entrance. Were these rescuers? I reached over to shake Uncle Colin, but he was one step ahead of me. Fully alert and sitting up, he was pointing his revolver at the closest figure. I yanked my hand back and covered both ears.

  Part II

  City in the Sky

  The name by which the world knows them is not the name that they themselves pronounce.

  Jorge Luis Borges, from The Cult of the Phoenix

  Chapter Seven

  The intruders stood motionless; they could have been statues. Were these hunters from a local village? Uncle Colin squinted and asked, “Who are you?” I don’t think he really expected an answer, but at least it was an attempt to communicate.

  After a long stand-off, the first person to move was Uncle Colin. While aiming the gun with his right hand, his left hand rose to rub his temple, as if he had a headache. Then, to my astonishment, he lowered the weapon, looked at me with glazed eyes, and said, “Good news, Danny. Narayan and Laxmi are here with some friends. You and Rachel go with them now. I’m very tired, and need more sleep.” He lay back on his sleeping bag, stuffing the gun inside.

  I sat in shock. So far, I’d seen no evidence of who, or what, these figures were. I almost spoke out, but then froze as the closest – and tallest – stranger stepped forward, moving into the firelight. An outfit of animal hides was illuminated, but a large hood prevented me from seeing any face. A gloved hand held something that looked like a club. All hopes of rescue vanished when the stranger raised the club high into the air. I shielded my head with my arms, waiting for the blow.

  Nothing happened.

  A second later I peeked out. The other figures had moved close to the leader, as if to stop the attack. But they didn’t need to. The leader had relaxed, and the club now hung to one side. A pair of eyeballs twinkled deep inside the hood. I glanced down at my body to see what was so interesting. The lama’s necklace, still around my neck, had slid out from under my shirt. The leader knelt down and stretched one long arm toward me. A large, gloved hand lifted the stone for closer inspection. At least the hand had five fingers!

  I expected the pendant to be torn away, but instead it was gently released. The leader returned to the group, and all of them faced one another in a tight circle. However, I heard no discussion, no sound whatsoever. I used this moment to glance at Uncle Colin, who was asleep. Rachel was sleeping too; so far, there’d been nothing to rouse her.

  Finally, a sound – a deep voice. I couldn’t locate the source, but it had great authority, and seemed to fill the inside of my skull. “You and your sister will come with us.” For some reason, I wasn’t surprised to hear English, or even the mention of Rachel as my sister.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, but got no response.

  I shook Uncle Colin; he seemed unconscious. I almost reached into his sleeping bag for the revolver, but given my limited experience with guns, that seemed riskier than following their orders.

  I tapped Rachel, expecting a scream after she woke up. Instead, she just mumbled, “Oh, someone found us.” But her eyes widened once she viewed the size of our visitors.

  “They want us to leave now,” I said.

  “What about Uncle Colin?” she asked, looking over at the sleeping man.

  What could I say? I didn’t want to panic her. “He needs more rest. He can catch up later.” I glanced nervously at the strangers, who were watching me closely.

  Rachel’s voice grew louder. “No! I won’t leave without him! What’s going on here?” She tried shaking Uncle Colin herself, to no avail. The strangers formed a menacing circle around the three of us. Clearly they meant business. Rachel fell silent.

  “I think they can show us the way back,” I said, desperately wanting to believe it myself. Reluctantly, we gathered up our things.

  As they led us away, I kept looking back at the cave. No one lingered inside, so I assumed Uncle Colin had been left alive. Outside, in the moonlight, the size of the strangers was even more impressive. They stood at least eight feet tall, and had massive chests.

  A new collection of horses waited patiently nearby. These animals had unusual coverings and saddles, but I couldn’t make out further details, except to notice two free saddles, which seemed oddly convenient.

  Rachel managed one last appeal. “Danny, why can’t we wait until daylight? I’m scared to ride in the dark.”

  “I’m scared too. But I think we’ll be fine.” I helped her onto a horse, patted her arm for reassurance, and then climbed onto the last free horse. The strangers formed another circle around us, but I sensed this was more for our safety than to prevent an escape. We moved out slowly, leaving the original horses tied up at the cave. Our escorts either knew this area very well or had special vision, since we covered the rocky terrain in near-darkness without a mishap.

  I had so many questions. Why had their leader nearly struck me? Had my necklace stopped him? Why leave Uncle Colin behind, and why did he lower his gun? Where were they taking us? Maybe we really were headed to Ghandruk, the only human village around.

  Human village. The word forced my thoughts down a path I’d been avoiding. What if popular notions about the Yeti – their appearance and behavior – were all wrong? What if I was already among them?

  When the sky finally lightened, I tried not to look at our escorts directly. I was afraid of what I might see, even though their hoods were still in place. Rachel also avoided reality by continually looking down. Suddenly I regretted not putting up more of a struggle, or at least arguing to leave Rachel behind.

  As the day wore on, I saw mountain passes to the south that might have led to Ghandruk, but our escorts never turned to investigate. Elsewhere, there were no signs of humanity – no trails or roads, no mani stones or temples, and certainly no people. And now that the storm front had passed, it was cold even in bright sunlight, which made our situation seem bleaker. Fortunately, we still had our heavy coats and wool caps.

  Mile after mile, I heard no words spoken among the strangers. How did they make everyday group decisions without a discussion? Yet whenever Rachel or I felt hungry, or needed a rest break, the strangers seemed to know. They would stop for us and turn their horses away, showing their backs. We would then rummage through our packs for whatever we needed.

  At one point I pulled out my Ganesh statue. Rachel walked up beside me and we both stroked it, hoping it might magically transport us home. She whispered, her voice quivering, “Where are we going?” I could only shrug my shoulders.

  As a distraction during the ride, I did mental calculations using numbers I’d learned before the trip. A horse walks about three miles per hour, and there are about ten hours of daylight at this latitude in late October, so we could cover maybe thirty miles from sunrise to sunset. Also, our heading was west-northwest, based on the sun’s position. I tried to remember details from my map, such as the Dhorpatan wilderness region, located fifty miles west of the Annapurna range. That region had been described as a vast, rich hunting ground lacking human villages. We’d probably reach it by tomorrow.

  Near twilight, one of the strangers broke from the group and galloped away. While riding at full speed, he dropped the reins, pulled out a long bow, and launched an arrow into a small herd of deer, felling one of them. It all seemed effortless. I’d never witnessed mounted archery before, but knew it was an important tactic among ancient armies.

  Next, the strangers set up camp. They assembled conical tents of animal skin and placed them around a large fire, then prepared and cooked the deer meat. At least they weren’t eating us – not yet, anyway. Rachel and I placed our sleeping bags several yards outside the ring of tents. We could have run off, but where would we go? She lay down and tried to rest, but fidgeted constantly. I tried to console her by reciting tales fr
om The Arabian Nights as best as I could remember.

  Eventually, I gathered up my courage and walked over to the fire, where the strangers ate in silence, their hoods still up. Curiosity drove me as much as hunger. Using hand gestures, I asked for some food. One of them offered a piece of meat on a slab of tree bark that served as a plate. They must have noticed my stares; it was impossible to look away.

  Just who were they? As usual, my imagination flew out of control. Once the hoods were removed, would I see Gorgon-like heads writhing with snakes, and be turned to stone? Or, since I was a fan of author H. G. Wells, I pictured the ape-like Morlocks from The Time Machine, or the Martian invaders from War of the Worlds, both of which feasted on humans.

  Ridiculous! I scolded myself. I refocused, steadied my nerves, and kept my eyes open. I sat on a rock and tried some of the deer meat, which was tasty. They’d added spices familiar from my Indian meals. The warmth of the fire was comforting, and the display of stars overhead spectacular. Owls hooted in the distance. One of my friends in India had been afraid of owls, claiming that they called his name to lure him into the woods. But I’d always found their sound soothing.

  After several more minutes, my anxiety melted away. I’d experienced a lot of things in India, and was certainly more prepared for this moment than any kid from England. Apparently the strangers sensed it, because all at once they pulled back their hoods – all except the leader.

  I gawked in amazement. This wasn’t any branch of the human race that I knew of. Each had a wide, brown face with bulging brow ridges, bushy eyebrows, sunken eyes, a fairly flat nose, and a square jaw. Towering above the eyes was a tall, dome-shaped scalp, just like the one I’d seen in Lucknow. Their skulls surely held a much larger brain than ours.

  Despite varying degrees of baldness, each had stringy brown hair of shoulder length. Thin beards suggested these were males. And though enormous, they moved gracefully and athletically, not like hobbling apes.

  Our mother had taught us about Darwin’s theory of man. Perhaps these strangers also evolved from apes, yet ended up very different from humans. Were they responsible for the Yeti legend? Whatever, it was exciting to sit among them – like entering a cage of trained tigers and realizing that your safety wasn’t fully guaranteed. I wondered if the leader held a grudge against me, since he hadn’t participated in the show.

  Finally I stood up to leave, thinking, I better take something back for Rachel. Before I’d taken one step, the closest stranger handed me more food, gesturing toward Rachel. It may have been a coincidence, but I concluded that they could read my mind. Maybe not every passing thought, but at least concrete desires and needs.

  I carried the snack over to my sister, and she nibbled while propped up on her side. She knew I’d seen them up close, but didn’t ask for details. I tunneled into my sleeping bag, reflecting on the day’s events. Questions still plagued me. Did they know I’d been searching for the Yeti, and if so, did it matter? Was the lama’s necklace a greeting card, or a token of safe passage? Were they saving us for some unspeakable human sacrifice, to be performed in their home village?

  It was all wild speculation, of course. Yawning, I looked up at the night sky once more. The full moon cast an eerie glow on the distant, snow-capped peaks. I drifted away listening to the owls.

  Chapter Eight

  I knew our destination was near when I saw sentries of their type posted along a trail winding upward through a narrow gorge. Our horses crested the final slope and stepped onto an enormous plateau. A broad, flat mesa stretched for miles to the south; to the north loomed tall bluffs. It was the perfect hiding place. Nothing could be spotted from below, and there was only one way up. Also, this was the Dhorpatan wilderness, where few humans traveled. I guessed the elevation to be at least two miles, since breathing had become difficult again, but I knew my body would adjust in a few days. Days? How long would we be here?

  As our group crossed the mesa, I expected to see a small village. Instead we came upon a small city – a landmark not likely to appear on any human map! Very few lost cities remained on the planet, perhaps only in the deepest jungles. Here, the Himalaya had served as the jungle.

  From a distance, it could have been almost any major settlement in Nepal’s highlands. But as we rode closer, the buildings seemed stretched vertically, probably to accommodate the gigantic inhabitants. A castle-like structure stood in the middle, surrounded by smaller buildings laid out on a grid of concentric circles. A wall of stone enclosed the city. Beyond that I saw acres of cultivated plants and trees, along with grazing areas for livestock like yaks and sheep. Everything looked ancient, yet well maintained. Much of the architecture reminded me of Buddhist monasteries – but who had copied whom?

  Few residents were visible as we passed through a gate in the north wall; however, it was still early morning. Those who did spot us returned stares of alarm. Humans had violated their homeland today, and children at that! At least Rachel had overcome her shock of seeing our escorts during the final day of travel.

  I wondered whether similar cities might exist on isolated mesas throughout Tibet and Nepal. But with inhabitants so different from us, why hadn’t these places been reported, after centuries of human exploration? I was willing to bet that a few people, probably monks, preserved the knowledge of such communities. Still, if these creatures really were the Yeti, then why the persistent myth of ape-like monsters living in caves?

  As we rode along cobblestone streets, our escorts gradually disappeared down side alleys, presumably heading for home. When we reached the central castle, only the leader remained. He’d never once removed his hood in our presence. He gestured for us to dismount and follow him. We were shown into a small room with food, water, and a roaring fireplace, which helped revive our spirits. Soon afterward, a different host ushered us into a large hall with a vaulted ceiling, where a single individual sat at one end of a long wooden table.

  This fellow had long, fully gray hair and beard, and a forehead even higher than the others. His clothes were woven from a luxurious fabric – silk or wool – and dyed in shades of dark blue and gray. He wore a long shirt that wrapped around rather than buttoning. Thick pants flowed down to leather slippers. Covering everything was a leather robe decorated with embroidery and tassels, its edges lined with fur. I assumed he was an important elder, possibly even their king.

  We sat at the middle of the table and waited – for what, I had no idea. The elder gazed at me with eyes of great wisdom. Next, as in the cave, a voice echoed inside my head, even though his lips weren’t moving.

  “Can you understand me?” the voice said.

  I glanced at Rachel. “Did you hear that?” I asked. She shook her head. I started to respond, but then remembered my theory: form a single thought. Staring back at him, I focused. Is this how you communicate?

  I flinched when the voice returned. “Yes! But it is not something we share with every one of your race. Now, continue as you did before, with distinct thoughts. If you speak in your native tongue, I will not understand.”

  My heart raced with excitement. I’d made contact with a new species from a lost civilization that used telepathy!

  Rachel seemed bewildered, and I guessed that she’d been left out, so I formed a mental request: I’d like my sister to hear too.

  “Very well. But prepare her for what will happen,” the voice said.

  I leaned over. “Rachel! I can hear him – in my mind! And now he’s going to talk to you, so don’t be scared when a voice appears from nowhere.”

  She gritted her teeth and tightened her body, as if expecting a punch. Then she jerked slightly, looked at me, and laughed. “I heard it! He said: ‘I’m sorry you were brought along; that wasn’t supposed to happen.’” The elder had delivered his comment solely to Rachel.

  The next thing I knew, my mind was pouring out a flood of inquiries. He simply raised
his hand, indicating that I should slow down.

  “Is this better?” I asked in silence, enjoying the novel approach.

  Rachel looked at me and whispered, “Did you say something, Danny?”

  “No,” I replied. “I thought it. You could hear that?”

  The elder’s voice cut into our minds. “In my presence, and only then, you will be able to hear each other’s thoughts. That way, each of you will know what the other is asking.”

  Before I could formulate my next question, the elder continued, “First, let us discuss names. I know that you two are called Danny and Rachel. You may refer to me as Nineveh. The one who led your escort through the wilderness is Uruk.”

  I was astonished. Nineveh and Uruk were the names of cities in ancient Mesopotamia.

  I stared at the elder and concentrated. “What do you call your… culture?” I’d almost said species, but somehow that seemed insulting.

  “We are the Sramana. We began as ancient explorers, seeking knowledge and rejecting authority. We wandered throughout Asia.”

  “So you’ve been around as long as humans? You’ve always known about us?” I asked.

  “We have always been interested in humans, going back to your earliest civilizations. Long ago, there was more interaction than you might think. Humans borrowed many names for their cities and gods from us, just as they adopted our written language, which you now call Sanskrit. Our ideas found their way into many of your own, from the laws of Hammurabi to the logic of the Greeks. We also inspired some of your oldest religions, such as Hinduism, Buddhism, and Zoroastrianism.”