I got the inspiration for this story from “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho. I have not read the book yet and only used the idea of traveling to a remote place as a guideline for the following story. Don’t forget to leave a comment!
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He pushed away the leaves, and alas, his eyes had not fooled him all along. Standing before him was the same structure he had seen four hundred metres down his current spot, just much more clearer as his vision was not obscured by the mist.
The temple was a little rundown, with walls missing stone bricks and a small plant sprouting from the corner of the roof. But he knew he was at the right place – the two pillars at the entrance each had a picture of a ram engraved on them. The building was a small solitary structure with three storeys, but even if the monks had wanted to expand there would not have been enough space since the temple was built near the edge of the mountain.
Carter checked his instrument readings and realised he had climbed over a kilometre to reach this sacred place. For the past three days he had hiked through a grassland which got less dense as he climbed higher. The path which he used could only be made out by the difference in length of the grass, displaying the rarity in which the route had been treaded on. He was careful not to walk in circles, which would have resulted in him walking a much longer distance. In fact, there had been so many climbers who were not careful to watch their direction and wasted precious time, many of whom had given up halfway or perished due to a lack of food or water.
So now, he had finally made it. He would have put himself in the history books, just like the other few who had reached this place before him. But they would never be heard of after that. Their only proof of ever reaching the temple was by word of the local guide who accompanied them all the way to the top. What happened during their visit was never known.
It was said that visitors were forbidden to document any details of their visit in accordance to the temple’s rules. The monks wanted their existence to remain as discreet as possible, and had warned that whoever disobeyed the rules would be severely punished by the Higher Order, death not excluded.
Carter was having mixed feelings. On one hand he was excited to be able to reach the temple after his tiring hike, but he was afraid to enter, wary of what might be lurking in the dark halls.
Snap it. You’re thinking too much. These are a bunch of highly intellectual monks. Now it is your real chance to achieve what you had set out for.
Slowly he made his way into the temple, only admiring the exquisite drawings of the rams for a mere two seconds before stepping inside. He had seen the drawings in the local villages below, but what he did not realise was that the guides’ drawings were not exactly the same as that right before his eyes – he had missed the skull of a human hung around each ram’s neck.
The interior was not completely dark, but the flames on the torches placed at far corners gave Carter an eerie feeling. More pillars towered before him which shot up right to the roof, but in the place of rams were engravings in a language he had never seen before. Two minutes had passed and still there was nobody to receive his arrival. Carter was growing more anxious.
“Hello? Anybody here?” he called. The echoes came in a quavering manner.
A shadow flashed from his right. Carter turned almost instantaneously and saw a figure dressed in a long cloak walking hurriedly towards him, a torch in hand.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. The Order had a meeting just now.” the Order was the name the monks called themselves. “My name is Janus.”
“I’m Carter.” the traveler extended his hand which was clasped tightly in return. The monk whispered a blessing and said, “Please follow me.”
They walked up the stairs to a room on the second level. The flooring was wood but had a large fur carpet where a group of older looking monks sat. The room was also better illuminated and Carter saw a large oil painting of the mountain hanging on the wall behind the monks.
Janus said something to one of the monks, who looked to be the leader of the group, in an incomprehensible language while Carter stood near the door and looked on. The old man was the first one to catch his attention because he wore a big gold bracelet on his left hand with what looked like a small white pearl. When Janus was done the monk quickly motioned for the visitor to sit down.
Acting as a translator, Janus said, “The Order is honoured to receive another visitor at our residence. You are the sixth outsider to successfully climb this mountain and come to this holy grounds.”
Carter quickly replied, “No, I’m more than honored to be received by you all.”
Tea was poured from a clay teapot into small cups while the visitor and his hosts had a discussion about the history of the Order and their teachings. Little was achieved and Carter was left with more questions than answers. The monks looked friendly to him, always smiling cheerfully, but they seemed to stray from answering his questions directly. Perhaps I’d learn more in the coming days.
After three refills of tea, the discussion came to a close and Janus brought Carter to his room, which was on the same level but not connected to the room they were in. A staircase on the other end had to be taken instead and while walking back on the ground floor, the duo passed by a display of figures illuminated by torches.
“Who are these people?”
There was a second’s silence before Janus replied, and Carter could have sworn he saw the eyebrows twitch. “These are the wax figures of our previous five visitors, to remember our faithful students.”
“Won’t the wax melt under the heat from those torches?”
Again another second of silence. “Oh no, the wax is made from the ram’s fat and milk and a variety of special plants.”
Carter looked at the displays closely. All of them looked so lifelike, so human. Like as though they were real people posing for him.
There were three Caucasians and two with Asian faces, though one of them seemed to be a mix of Russian, Indian and Chinese. The figures were drabed in the same type of cloaks worn by the monks, but they were light yellow instead of grey. Each figure stood on its own pedestal. Carter stood there admiring the handiwork of the talented monk involved in the molding of the wax figures for a while. Those eyes, are they real?
“Mr Carter, shall we move on?” Janus asked. The traveler apologised and followed his guide.
The room was a small one, with just a bed and a small table. But the view was breathtaking – Carter could see the grassplains dotted by the small cluster of village houses with more mountains in the background.
“Have some rest, Mr Carter. Dinner will be in two hours’ time.” Janus left before Carter could say his thanks. Worn out from his hike, Carter lay on the bed and would not get up till the dinner call.
—-
“The Higher Order’s call must be answered.”
“It must be answered indeed.”
“Tonight the Order will once again fulfill the wishes of the Higher Order and carry on the tradition of our ancestors.”
There was a unanimous call of agreement by the group, and under the illumination of a torch, a hand with a gold bracelet took a bottle of unknown liquid from the rack and poured some into the wine bottle. “This bottle shall be served to our guest.”
Under the orange light the skull on the bracelet came to live, its eye sockets raging with fury.
“Markus, prepare the pedestal.”
THE END
