Track of the Beast: A Brock Stone Adventure

The man who had come to his aid neither spoke to him nor met his eye. Stone was six feet three inches tall. This fellow barely came up to his shoulder. He was dressed in layers of worn clothing and wore a knife with a bone hilt in a leather sheath at his hip. Silently, the man knelt and gathered his rope.

“Thank you for your help,” Stone said.

“You are welcome.” Still no eye contact.

“My name is Brock Stone.”

The man continued coiling his rope without acknowledging that Stone had spoken.

“Was it you I saw moving along the ridge a few minutes ago?”

“No.” The fellow stood and secured his rope to his belt. Stone had met a few silent types in his time, but this man took it to the extreme.

“I’m looking for something. Perhaps you could help me.”

“Shambhala.” The little man sneered. “Many other fools die searching for a legend. You should turn back.”

So, the fellow could string two sentences together when he felt like it. “I am not looking for Shambala. I seek Kanchinjínga.”

If the fellow recognized the name, he didn’t show it. His expression remained impassive. “If you are a treasure hunter, you will be disappointed.” The name Kanchinjínga meant “the five treasures of the high snow.”

“I know about the monastery.” Stone didn’t miss the way the man’s left eye twitched at the mention of the name. “Did you come from there?”

“No.”

“So, there is a monastery on this mountain!” Stone was relieved.

“That was not the question you asked.” With that cryptic reply, the man turned and strode away.

“Can you show me where it is?” Stone called. When the fellow didn’t reply, he followed along behind him. “Mister, I’m sorry to interrupt your busy day, but I have come a very long way.”

“And you have a very long way yet to go,” the man said without looking back.

“I assume you mean that metaphorically,” Stone sighed. “Do you at least have a name?”

“I do.”

“Are pedantic replies what passes for wisdom at the monastery, or is it only you who takes pride in such pettiness?”

The little man flashed a sly grin over his shoulder. “You are not a complete fool, then.”

“Perhaps not complete,” Stone said, still following along. “But I did travel all this way without actually knowing how to find the monastery.”

“That was foolish, indeed.” There was a note of amusement in the fellow’s voice that set Stone’s teeth on edge. “You may not know my true name, but other white men call me Gideon. Do not bother telling me what you are called.”

“All right, Gideon. Will you please show me the way to the monastery? I can pay you.”

“What makes you believe there is a monastery here?” Gideon asked, quickening his pace.

Stone scrambled to keep up. He was a skilled climber and kept himself in tip-top physical condition, but despite his longer stride, he found himself losing ground on Gideon with every step. It was time to play the only card he held.

“I walked the Path of the Five Pecks of Rice,” Stone called. His heart pounded. He wondered how great a risk he was taking by admitting this. His grandfather always told him, You can never go wrong with the truth. He had a feeling he was about to put that theory to the test in a way Granddad had never anticipated.

Gideon froze, slowly turned to face Stone. “If that is true, then you gave up the fairer sex for nothing. Those men were fools who spouted nonsense.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it,” Stone took a step forward. “I can see it in your eyes.” He held his breath, waited.

Gideon’s eyes bulged and he strode back along the trail in Stone’s direction. “You see nothing!” Finally, the man showed some emotion, even if it did appear to be anger.

“I found the pyramid” Stone went on. “I saw what was underneath.”

“You should stop speaking,” Gideon said. Despite the rage burning in his eyes, his demeanor was once again calm, his voice placid.

Stone was beyond worrying about what Gideon might try to do to him. He was desperate.

“I have stood before the Celestial Master.”

Gideon halted inches from Stone. “I do not know where you learned those words, but you should not have spoken them aloud. Because you are an ignorant child, I will forgive you once.” He held up a finger. “Now leave this place and never come back. He pivoted on his heel and took a step.

“Gideon, wait.” Stone reached out to seize the man’s arm.

As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Gideon whirled around just before Stone’s fingers touched him. With a lightning-fast motion, he struck Stone’s forearm at a spot just above the wrist. Stone’s arm immediately fell limp.

Though taken by surprise, Stone was a seasoned fighter and blessed with exceptional strength and speed. Instinctively he moved out of the way as Gideon’s roundhouse kick whizzed past his head, so close that it brushed Stone’s chin whiskers. In the narrow confines of the mountain trail, he was not able to avoid Gideon’s next strike — a spinning side kick that sat the larger man down on his backside.”