Patrick Woodhead - The Cloud Maker (2010)

‘Mate, are you OK?’

Even behind his goggles, Luca could see the sick exhaustion in Bill’s eyes. He looked pale and utterly spent, as if each hour’s climb had gradually leached a little more colour from his blood.

‘You OK?’ Luca repeated, automatically gathering up the last few coils of rope. Already he felt his gaze being drawn back to the pyramid. ‘You’ve got to check out this mountain, Bill. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

Bill opened his mouth to answer, but was suddenly hit by a bout of hacking coughs. Luca turned back in time to see his head loll to one side, a string of bloody spittle stretching from his lips. The lack of oxygen in his blood had started to turn his lips mauve.

‘Shit,’ said Luca softly, and then as he saw Bill slowly close his eyes, he raised his voice.

‘Bill . . . you have to stay awake.’

Bill remained motionless, his eyes shut tight.

The throbbing in his head was unbearable, even the smallest movement threatened to split his temples, paralysing him with pain. For hours he had tried to fight it, but now even his vision was starting to blur.

‘Head is killing me,’ he managed. ‘The altitude . . . we’re climbing too fast.’

‘How bad is it?’

It took Bill a few seconds to muster the energy to speak. When he did it came out as little more than a murmur.

‘I can’t see so well.’

Luca swore before turning and looking up the sheer wall of ice.

The summit ridge was no more than half an hour’s climb above them. The weather was absolutely perfect – low winds, good visibility. This expedition had been months in the planning, and now here they were in the perfect position – the mountain was offering itself on a plate.

‘Bill, listen. I’m going to tie you to the ledge just here, only for an hour or so, and go for the summit. You’ll be all right, I promise.’

Somewhere in his exhausted brain, Bill processed these words. He raised his head to speak then another bout of coughing convulsed through him, his chest rising and falling like a fish thrown on to dry land.

After a moment his body went limp and he slowly turned his head aside to spit a thick globule of phlegm on to the nearby rock.

‘You . . . can’t leave,’ he hissed.

He opened his eyes, squinting through the pain.

‘Don’t . . . fucking . . . leave,’ he repeated.

Bill tried to focus through the fog of his thoughts. He had to stay awake, had to fight the crippling lethargy. The seconds stretched. He felt his consciousness dip and the darkness drag at him. For the longest time, nothing happened. All he could hear was the noise of his own chest, heaving up and down. There was nothing except the blackness clouding the edges of his vision, slowly sinking in on him.

‘Luca . . . please.’

Bill’s voice was nothing more than a pathetic murmur, his last thoughts fading on his swollen lips. Then, somewhere through the haze, he saw Luca’s silhouette move closer until he was standing directly overhead. Bill felt a hand on the front of his climbing harness and his body being hoisted forward towards the edge of the cliff.

He reached up, trying to grab on to Luca’s arm. He was balanced right over the long drop of the cliff beneath.

When Luca finally spoke, frustration thickened his voice.

‘Come on then. Let’s get the hell out of here.’

Chapter 3

There was no natural light, only a collection of squat candles connected by long rivulets of syrupy wax. From their flames came a low aureole of light, illuminating the outline of five seats carved directly into the stone walls.

The seats were arranged in a semi-circle, following the natural shape of the chamber. All but the middle one was occupied by a cross-legged figure dressed in highly ornate robes. The fabrics were all dyed in rich contrasting colours and wrapped in complex folds so that only the right arm of the figure remained bare.

On the other side of the circular chamber, a small collection of personal effects had been laid out neatly on the stone floor. There were five of each item, prayer wheels, beads and miniature golden bells, stretching away from the candlelight.

One of the figures leaned back, pulling aside the yellow cowl that covered his face.

‘The divinations were correct,’ he said in a voice cracked by age. ‘The boy has been found.’

The others turned to look at him, their elderly faces creased in surprise.

‘You are certain of this?’

‘I am.’

Another of the monks leaned forward in his seat, arranging his red robes around him.

‘How did you find him so soon after His Holiness passed away?’

The monk in the yellow robe smiled. ‘It was indeed a marvellous thing. The smoke from the cremation blew south-west, confirming exactly what the Tshangpa oracle said. After only a month of searching, we found the boy in a small village called Tingkye.’

‘A month?’ another monk interrupted dubiously. ‘How can he be found in only a month?’

‘If the divinations are correct, you should do nothing but rejoice that we have found him so fast.’

‘And the boy – what is he like?’ asked another, slightly younger monk, his green robes glinting in the candlelight as he leaned forward eagerly to address the others.

‘He is only nine years old, a peasant with no learning or education. Yet as soon as I cast eyes on him, I saw he possessed a spirit that was identical to his predecessor’s. When I showed him the personal effects, he did not hesitate for a moment. He chose His Holiness’s personal prayer wheel, then the golden bell that he only used in his private chamber. Presented with five different prayer beads, he cast his hands over each before settling on the one that can only be used by His Holiness – the beads made of jade and silver that are the mark of Shigatse. They boy took them into his pocket and then looked at me curiously, saying, “These are mine. Where did you find them?”’

As the old monk finished speaking the other three bowed their heads in awe. The search could take years, even decades, and yet in only a few weeks the boy had been found.

Eventually one of them raised his head.

‘And what of the golden urn?’

‘He was chosen. With each trial, it soon became clear to me that he did not even know he was being tested. The movements came to him naturally, as if he were following a dream he had already experienced. Such things could not have been taught.’

There was another long pause as each monk considered the significance of what they had been told. Then the younger one in the green robes glanced round the semi-circle, his eyes bright.

‘We must inform Shigatse that their new leader has been found.’

The monk in the red robes shook his head abruptly, sending shadows flickering across the chamber’s walls.

‘No. We must tell no one. The boy’s identity must be concealed at all costs. If such news were ever to leave this room, there are many more powerful than us who would seek to control him. We must act quickly, brothers, or suffer a terrible fate.’

He turned his head slowly so that his gaze fell on each of them in turn.

‘This is the most important secret we will ever have to keep,’ he said, raising his finger towards the ceiling of the chamber. ‘The very fate of Tibet now depends on us.’

Chapter 4

The climb down was relatively easy.

Luca began by using the ropes to lower Bill down from the ledge, but almost as soon as they started the descent, he began to feel better. The profound lethargy that had crippled him further up the mountain dissipated with each new lungful of thicker air. As the hours passed, and they abseiled quickly downhill, strength seeped back into each tired muscle.