Jake Atlas and the Quest for the Crystal Mountain Read online

  Tenzin followed the lama from the chamber and closed the door on his way out.

  “They’ve locked us in,” Pan whispered.

  “No,” Mum said. “They’ve closed the door. We’re here as guests.”

  “Something’s not right about this place,” I insisted. “The monks look shifty. They know something we don’t.”

  “Perhaps,” Mum agreed. “If they choose to tell us, then we’ll be grateful.”

  “But what if they don’t?” I asked.

  “Then we accept that. We made a promise to Takara, remember?”

  I remembered, but surely that didn’t matter? She wasn’t even here. “You mean after everything we’ve gone through, it all comes down to whether a few mad monks decide to let us in on their silly secrets?”

  “They’re not mad, Jake,” Pan said. “And their beliefs aren’t silly. We have to respect them.”

  I didn’t really think the monks were mad; I was just frustrated. Until now we’d gone out and got whatever we were after. But we’d stalled here on this mountain, begging for permission to carry on.

  “We should get some sleep,” Dad suggested, reducing the gas lantern to a dim glow. “This could take a while.”

  I peered through the window to see where the lama had gone, but Tenzin’s head popped up outside, blocking my view again. He held up a football, his grin now impossibly wide.

  “You like Manchester United?”

  I shook my head – not particularly. Almost everywhere we went locals asked me about football in England.

  “Will you play?” he asked.

  Now this was interesting; a chance to get out of this room and have a poke around…

  “I’m going out,” I called.

  “No, you are not,” Mum replied.

  “But that monk wants a kickabout.”

  Mum saw Tenzin’s face in the window, and returned his smile. “Just don’t go far, Jake. We need to—”

  “I know, I know. We need to show them respect.”

  Tenzin was waiting for me in an alley between two of the prayer chambers. “Hey, Manchester United,” he said.

  He showed off some crazy skills: super-fast keepy-uppys, headers and flicks off his shoulders. He kicked the ball to me, but his smile wobbled when I just shrugged, and he realized that I wasn’t really deserving of the nickname he’d given me.

  I booted the ball back and gestured for him to give me another display so I could snatch a look around. It was dark now, but gaslight flared through the chamber windows, and shadows flickered around the ledges. Close by, a narrow flight of wooden stairs led higher up the rock face, where I could just about see three monks. Starlight glinted off spectacle lenses, and I realized one of the men was the old lama.

  Tenzin kicked the ball back to me to get my attention.

  “Manchester United. You be in goal.”

  Those monks looked dodgy. I needed to see more, but I’m not hugely proud of what I did next. Grinning at Tenzin, I toe-punted the ball as hard as I could so it shot past him and along the alley. I cheered like I’d scored a goal, but Tenzin looked torn – he’d obviously been told to keep an eye on me, but his ball could roll off the mountain if he didn’t go after it.

  He signalled to me to stay put, and scampered after the ball. “Wait. Manchester United, wait there!”

  I slid my smart-goggles on and set them to night vision to watch the monks at the top of the steps. Two of them stood by a line of prayer wheels, listening to the lama as if they were receiving instructions. It seemed strange; surely a monk would know what to do with a prayer wheel? Rather than spinning the things, the monks were turning them slowly, deliberately, like they were setting them to exact positions.

  “Manchester United!”

  The football thumped into my head, sending me tumbling to the rocks. Tenzin rushed over and helped me up, babbling apologies.

  “Sorry, sorry. Accident. Forgiven?”

  I smiled and nodded, but I didn’t think he’d hit me by accident. He had taken me out, to stop me from seeing what was going on at those prayer wheels.

  The monks were keeping secrets. My parents wanted us to be patient, but there was no time. We had to see the Drak Terma soon, to stay ahead of our enemies. If that meant breaking a few rules – and a few promises – then that was how it had to be.

  I gave Tenzin back his ball and bowed, thanking him for the game. He looked disappointed that I was going back inside, but my smile was genuine.

  At last I had a plan.

  16

  “The Snake Lady.”

  She repeated the name over and over as the frost crystals of her breath shimmered under the Paris streetlights. She had heard one of the mercenaries mutter it even as she left the headquarters, and then the others snickering like children.

  Jake Atlas had given her that name. He had humiliated her, destroyed her…

  No, she needed to forget that.

  There was nothing she could do about it now; the boy had won. She should have been glad it was over. Her work had been everything, and it had taken everything. Physically it had ruined her: the constant travelling, time-zone changes that left her wide awake in darkness and half-asleep in the day, grimacing through migraines she couldn’t let anyone know about for fear they would take it as a sign of weakness. Perhaps now she could relax, enjoy a meal without fielding a dozen calls. She could have that thing she sometimes craved as she lay awake at night.

  A life.

  These thoughts were snowflakes through moonlight compared to the usual hurricane of worries that raged in Marjorie’s head. She was smiling, even, as she entered a record shop two blocks from the organization’s headquarters in Paris. She had walked past the store every day for a month, but never dared enter. Music had been one of the few pleasures she had allowed herself, but recently even that had been forced aside to make way for her work.

  But now, barely half an hour after the council stabbed her in the back, she entered the store seeking a record. La Bohème, the opera by Giacomo Puccini that had haunted her for so long. She found it on vinyl, and even exchanged a few pleasantries with the shop owner. Then she carried it back into the frozen Paris night.

  La Bohème.

  The love song of the seamstress in her Paris garret. Really, she didn’t need the record; she heard it so clearly, and so often, in her head. Love, life, laughter. Things she could never allow herself because of her work. Now, maybe, that might change.

  For several minutes she stood staring at the city rooftops, at flats just like those she had pictured in her favourite opera. She couldn’t see into any; instead she let her mind drift, imagining scenes behind steamed-up windows. Couples relaxing and talking. A dinner party, wine glasses clinking, friends laughing. A family around a TV, spending a night together.

  Together.

  All of them together.

  And her, outside in the cold.

  The record in her hand felt heavier and heavier.

  She realized, right then, that she had never felt so alone.

  The Snake Lady.

  A cold-blooded reptile, incapable of love.

  She stared down at the record – La bohème – and then, finally, broke it in half and tossed the pieces into the gutter. What had she been thinking? The music was ridiculous. The work was all she had ever had. But it was not yet finished. There was one job left, and she would see it through no matter what.

  She had nothing, because everything had been taken from her.

  By a boy.

  A boy named Jake Atlas.

  Now – and perhaps it would be the last thing she would do – she would find that boy, and she would kill him.

  17

  “I have meditated long and hard.”

  The old monk paused and stared at us from behind inch-thick spectacle lenses, as if he might break into an even longer and harder meditation.

  The boy monk, Tenzin, topped up my yak butter tea.

  “I am afraid,” the lama continued, “that
we cannot assist you with your request. We built this monastery to protect the Drak Terma. We must remain true to that sacred duty.”

  I had known this was coming, but I couldn’t hold back a frustrated groan. Mum and Dad had insisted we respect the monks’ decision, and they actually looked like they did, smiling and nodding as if everything was fine.

  Nothing was fine.

  We had to see that document.

  “Maybe you could describe it?” I suggested. “That way you wouldn’t have to show us.”

  The old monk shook his head. “It is not the document that worries me,” he explained. “It is your destination.”

  “Mount Kailas?” Pan asked.

  The monk closed his eyes, as if just hearing the mountain’s name was an emotional experience.

  “To you it is a place on a map,” he said. “To us it is a place in the heart. It is the Crystal Mountain, the home of the gods, which must never be entered. We cannot help you do so, no matter how noble your intentions.”

  Maybe this guy didn’t understand. Maybe it was a translation thing.

  “We think that something in that mountain,” I said, slowly to be clear, “holds the secret to saving millions of lives.”

  The monk nodded. “As I say, no matter how noble your intentions. We will pray for you, to help you on your quest.”

  I couldn’t help myself, my blood had started to boil. “If you want to help us,” I snapped, “let us see the Drak Terma.”

  “Jake, that’s enough.”

  “But we’re trying to help them too, Mum. They don’t know the Snake Lady, or what she’ll do when she gets here. You think she’ll sit around drinking tea while someone else decides what she can or can’t see? She’ll come with soldiers and guns.”

  “Others have come with soldiers and guns,” the lama said, calmly. “We have resisted them.”

  “These people are not like those others,” I said.

  “Anyone who comes is welcome,” the monk replied. “And they will receive the same reply.”

  He removed his glasses and cleaned them on his robe. “But there is something of which you should be aware. Mount Kailas is said to be guarded.”

  “Guarded?” Mum asked. “By the Chinese army?”

  “No. By something else. Some say it is a spirit, others say it is a living creature. Legend says the guardian hunts those who seek to defile the Crystal Mountain, and in this land legends are not always just legend.”

  The monk smiled, tiny eyes watching us from his wrinkled face. “Or perhaps it is all just mumbo jumbo,” he added.

  I glanced at Mum, who no longer looked so convinced by her mumbo jumbo theory. Her jaw tightened as she looked away, staring into the darkness through the chamber window. Was she thinking about last night, and the mysterious invader in our camp? Any other time I would have asked the lama more, but right then we had more urgent concerns.

  “We’re not worried about guardian spirits,” I said, trying to remain calm. “We’re worried about an organization who plan to—”

  “You have said,” the lama interrupted. “And I have replied.”

  Bones clicked in his knees as he rose. He looked back at us, blinking and squinting without his glasses. “You are welcome to stay as long as you wish. But please do not ask about this matter again.”

  And then he was gone, with Tenzin scuttling behind.

  “This is ridiculous,” I groaned.

  “No, Jake, it is their decision.”

  “It’s a stupid old scroll, Mum. We’re not going to steal it, we just want a look. So what do we do now?”

  Mum glanced at Dad, who shrugged.

  “This could be a test,” he suggested.

  “What sort of test?” Pan asked.

  “We have to demonstrate that we’re patient, to show respect. Only then will they trust us and properly consider our request.”

  “You mean we just wait?” I asked. “For how long?”

  “I’m not sure. Perhaps a few weeks.”

  “Weeks?” I seethed. “Are you crazy, Dad? The People of the Snake will be here in days. They’ll tear this place to the ground to find that scroll.”

  Mum stared again through the window, out across the valley and the freezing night. “We made a promise to Takara,” she said. “Perhaps we can appeal to the monks in a different way. They might agree to relocate the terma, to protect it from others that come looking.”

  “Right.” I sat up, warming to the idea. “And when they do, we grab it.”

  “No,” Mum insisted. “We gave our word.”

  For a couple of hours we did nothing. Tenzin brought more yak butter tea, as well as bowls of soup with dumplings. He kept glancing around the room, as if he expected to uncover some devious plan to steal the Drak Terma, but really didn’t want to.

  When every second counts, sitting around a room doing nothing is the worst. No, actually, sitting around drinking yak butter tea is worse. Mum and Dad may have thought they might be able to appeal to the lama, but the guy’s mind was made up. I kept thinking about what I’d seen outside, the monks at those prayer wheels…

  The Drak Terma. It was up there somewhere.

  Well, if the monks wouldn’t show us the document, I’d find it myself. If I could take a photo with my smart-goggles, there wouldn’t be much they could do about it. We’d have the information and we could leave them to their prayers.

  I waited until I was certain my parents were asleep, and sneaked off.

  Outside, gaslight glinted off icicles forming above the chamber door. My cheeks tingled from the cold, and a drip froze on the end of my nose. I pulled my coat tighter and switched my goggles to thermal view, scanning the alley. At least a dozen monks were gathered in a nearby chamber, chanting and banging drums.

  I crept down the passage, keeping close to the chamber wall. My breaths were tiny frost clouds, and my heart beat a rhythm with the drums. I saw moonlight glint off the prayer wheels at the top of the stairs, but to reach them I’d have to cross the chamber’s open doorway, where I could be spotted.

  Move fast, stay silent.

  I took a deep breath, held it in, and got ready.

  “You’re not actually going to go for it, are you?” a voice hissed.

  I whirled around, ready to defend myself. Pan stood behind me, grinning while also somehow looking furious.

  “Hey,” I muttered. “I was just … you know…”

  “Trying to find the Drak Terma?”

  There was no point in denying it; she knew me too well. “I don’t have a choice, Pan,” I whispered.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “OK, but we need it. Otherwise she’ll win.”

  “She? You mean Marjorie? Jake, you’re obsessed with her.”

  “I’m not!”

  It came out louder than I’d meant, and we waited to see if anyone had heard. Luckily the monks were too busy chanting. Pan had touched a nerve. I knew she was probably right, but this wasn’t just about me versus Marjorie. We were trying to stop the People of the Snake from letting millions of people die.

  “Look,” I whispered, “Mum and Dad don’t have to know how I got the information. I won’t tell them you knew.”

  “Are you crazy? I’m coming with you. Someone needs to make sure you don’t destroy this whole place.”

  I wondered if that was her real reason. As much as we squabbled, we looked out for each other on every mission. I don’t think Pan would have let me go alone, no matter what.

  “We need to get to the prayer wheels at the top of those stairs,” I explained.

  Pan grabbed my arm and pulled me in the other direction down the alley. “Not that way; come on.”

  Pan had remembered something I hadn’t. She led me into another of the chambers. This room was empty other than a golden statue of a Buddha that sat cross-legged on an altar, surrounded by gas lanterns. Its glaring eyes freaked me out, as if they were angry at us for breaking our promise to Takara and the monks. I was about to turn the s
tatue around, when Pan clambered onto a bench and jumped to grab something in the ceiling. The chambers had hatches in the roofs. She grabbed hold of the ladder, which swung down with its top fixed to the hatch, and then she began to climb.

  Sometimes my sister is really cool.

  I followed her up the ladder, which seemed almost five hundred years old. The hatch at the top swung open after a shove, and a rush of icy night air swept into the chamber, causing the gaslights to splutter. Pan helped me up onto the roof, where we were about halfway up to the ledge with the prayer wheels. We’d have to climb the rest, maybe twenty metres straight up. Pan knew I wasn’t keen on heights…

  “Wanna go back?” she suggested.

  She sounded hopeful, and I wondered if she had brought me here expecting me to turn back. But I pictured the Snake Lady and her smug smile at knowing I was too scared to go on…

  I ordered my smart-goggles to switch to night vision.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  The rocks were sharp, but also slippery with frost. My legs started to shake from fear before I’d climbed even a few metres, but there were plenty of cracks in the surface for hand and footholds. Pan hissed at me to hurry up, but I was climbing as fast as my nerves would allow. By the time I reached the ledge, my arms were shaking too. I mumbled something about being cold as I helped Pan up, but she knew it was a lie, and smiled.

  Sticking close together, we edged along a shelf in the mountainside, about as wide as a pavement, to a short rope bridge where part of the passage had fallen away. The monks’ chambers were directly below us. The rocks shuddered with the volume of their drumming and chanting.

  Beyond the bridge we reached the prayer wheels.

  “The monks were up to something here,” I said. “They were turning these wheels really precisely, into specific positions like they were locking something.”

  “Or unlocking something. Did you see the positions?”

  “No, it was too dark.”

  “There could be thousands of combinations, Jake.”

  I’d thought about that. Pan had told me that prayer wheels were all about scoring merit points, but there were loads of others around this monastery that the monks could spin. Why climb to this lonely ledge?