Patrick Woodhead - The Cloud Maker (2010)

‘ My dear child, calm yourself, ’ he said, his voice steady and soothing. ‘ Whatever has happened, we will make amends. ’

Norbu crashed down on to his knees, letting the torch drop by his side so that sparks were dashed across the stone floor. He put his head on to the Abbot’s chest and wept openly.

‘ I have . . . killed a man! ’ he choked out, the strength of his emotions nearly winding him. ‘ I . . . didn’t mean to . . . but he kept on . . . ’

The Abbot waited, ignoring the pain caused by the boy’s weight leaning against him. Norbu drew in one shuddering breath, then another, and gradually his crying eased. He raised his head, eyes red from tears, and the Abbot smiled.

‘ Come, untie me, young Norbu, ’ he said. ‘ We must not let the fear take control of us. Everything will be well. ’

Norbu nodded hesitantly then reached up to the Abbot’s shoulder, unclipping the first of the leather straps with shaking hands. He unwound them from the Abbot’s frail body, looping them back over themselves with each turn. Eventually, the Abbot’s body was released and he exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders fall back into their natural position. Then he reached forward himself, using the torch flame to eat through the thick woven rope around his wrists. It smouldered and blackened before finally pulling apart. With a final kick, the Abbot freed himself and got stiffly to his feet, using Norbu for support.

‘ Well done indeed, ’ he said, his arm draped over his aide’s shoulder. ‘ Only in the most adverse situations do we ever truly know ourselves. And you have shown great courage. ’

Norbu bit his lip, the horror beginning to drain from his face.

‘ Now, do you have the strength to help an old man one last time? ’ the Abbot continued. ‘ We must find Dorje and the rest of the elders. Once they hear me speak, we will restore order to Geltang and quell this panic Rega has created. ’

The Abbot hobbled forward with Norbu at his side, their shoulders pressed together in the tight confines of the corridor. With their combined strength, they heaved open the trapdoor and slowly clambered out into the brightly lit corridor above.

‘ Rega has the entire order in the Great Temple. I saw him there myself, ’ Norbu explained. ‘ He has the Dharmachakra and was . . . ’ His voice faded into silence and his expression suddenly froze. He was staring over the Abbot’s shoulder.

‘ What is it, my child? ’ the Abbot asked, turning to follow the direction of his gaze.

From the shadows behind the last torch a nightmare figure emerged, striding towards them. The entire top half of its body was naked, revealing brawny slab-like muscles across its abdomen. The skin was red and shining, flaked in patches stretched across the shoulders and thickset neck. Then, as it stepped further into the light, the hideous face of Drang emerged.

Both the Abbot and Norbu froze, paralysed by what they saw. The entire right side of his face was charred black, with raw flesh striped across the neckline. His right eye looked too big for the socket as the delicate skin around it had burned away. From within the exposed orbit, the damaged eye stared at them with violent hatred.

With a mighty swing of his arm, Drang knocked Norbu clean off his feet. The boy’s body arched in mid-air, before crashing down on top the flagstones with a sickening slap. He lay absolutely still as Drang swung back towards the Abbot, his singed flesh only inches from the old man’s face.

‘ Rega will punish you for this, ’ he seethed, and before the Abbot could even speak, he had grabbed him by the shoulder of his robes, dragging him back along the corridor to the Great Temple and the judgement that awaited him.

Chapter 53

Luca pulled the abseiling rope from his harness and turned around to find four more soldiers standing at the base of the cliff. Two of them had their rifles trained on him, covering him from a distance, while the others dragged a body through the snow by the shoulder straps of its webbing. They were heading for a small semi-circle of tents at the edge of the Kooms.

The heels of the dead soldier’s boots ploughed grooves in the deep snow and Luca followed, trying to stop himself from staring at the man’s face. His neck lolled unnaturally to one side and the entire top section of his head had caved in from the impact of a fall. As they approached the first of the tents, the body was carefully laid next to another, before the soldiers swiftly assembled two collapsible shovels and began piling snow over them both.

Bill and Luca were shunted forward towards the centre of the campsite. A single figure was standing there, waiting, the epaulettes on his shoulder glimmering gold in the moonlight.

As the big soldier from the cliff approached him, the figure listened carefully to what he was saying. Then he reached into his trouser pocket and the sudden flare of a cigarette lighter briefly illuminated the man’s face. It was ashen, with black eyes that stared at them without a trace of emotion.

The figure came closer, halting in the snow just in front of Bill and Luca. As he drew the smoke into his lungs, the tip of the cigar-ette glowed in the darkness.

‘I offer you one chance. Give me the boy and I will release the pair of you.’

The man’s voice was light, almost conversational. Both Bill and Luca remained silent.

‘The boy,’ the figure repeated.

Zhu then turned to Chen, standing just to his right.

‘ Make them understand, ’ he said in Mandarin.

Chen inhaled slowly, wishing the captain had chosen another of the soldiers standing nearby. An image of the Westerner standing over him with a rock raised above his head flashed through his mind. Would the captain have hesitated like that? Would the captain have spared his life?

Chen stepped forward, halting just in front of Luca. The Westerner was staring up at him, eyes shining with a mixture of arrogance and defiance. From that single look Chen sensed that he would not back down, that he wouldn’t be intimidated by a few simple punches or threats. This was going to go all the way.

He hesitated, his hands balling into fists.

‘What are you waiting for?’ Zhu snapped from behind him.

With a sudden twist of his body, Chen brought his hand whipping across Luca’s face. His head jerked backwards with the force of the blow.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Bill shouted, clambering to his feet. Immediately one of the soldiers behind him grabbed him by his shoulders while another rammed the butt of his rifle into the back of his knees, collapsing him into the snow. Bill clenched his jaw in pain as the scars across his thigh split open once again.

‘We’re British Nationals,’ he said, grimacing. ‘You’ve no right to do this.’

Zhu didn’t respond, signalling instead for Chen to continue. With a jab of his arm, he sent his fist crashing into the bridge of Luca’s nose. There was a sharp crack and Luca’s head snapped backwards. He groaned in pain then slowly raised his head again, spitting out a thick string of blood into the snow in front of him.

‘The boy,’ Zhu repeated. ‘I want the boy.’

Luca stared up at him, blood oozing out between his teeth.

‘Fucking coward,’ he said, spitting the words out.

Zhu inhaled on his cigarette, his expression unchanged. Then, with a brief nod of his head, he motioned for Chen to continue. Chen lashed out with both fists, thudding them down on to Luca’s head and chest. He did it again, and again, until sweat ran from his temples and the skin across his knuckles tore open. His eyes were half-shut as frustration boiled into a terrible anger. If only the Westerner would say something, he could stop. All he had to do was talk.