Determined to find out what the thing was, Stone scrambled after it. With a disregard bordering on recklessness, he hopped and leaped from one shifting ice sheet to another, closing in on the spot where the figure had vanished. He had almost made it when the chunk of ice beneath his foot gave way and he plunged into a deep hole.
He braced himself for impact, but it never came. Instead, he found his descent slowed by the narrowing walls of the crevasse until he came to a halt, his feet dangling in space. He shifted and tried to twist around but he was wedged tight.
“Well, this is just great.” He debated calling out for Gideon to help him. He had lost sight of the man and had no way of knowing if he was even within earshot. The idea of needing rescue twice in such a short span of time didn’t appeal to him, but he might not have a choice. It was a long way up and he couldn’t see any handholds.
He looked down, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness of the crevasse. His eyes fell on the slick floor only a few feet below him. That appeared to be the likelier path.
Little by little, with lots of tearing of fabric and scouring of flesh, he managed to work his arms free of his backpack, then turn his body to the side, freeing first his shoulders, then his thighs. With his cheek pressed against the icy cold wall, he slid down until his feet touched solid ground.
The confines were still constricting and could take only tiny sips of breath as he inched his way forward. When he finally had room to move, he retrieved his pack and followed the crevasse until it opened up on a narrow mountain trail.
He took three steps and froze.
There in the snow before him was a giant footprint! It was humanlike, with a pronounced heel and ball of the foot, and five toes. He knelt to take a closer look. He estimated the print was fourteen inches long and twelve inches across at the widest point. He let out a low whistle. Oversized footprints in the snow could sometimes be explained by melting and refreezing, but this was fresh snow.
He tried to imagine the size of the person or creature that had left the print and wondered if it might have thrown the chunk of ice at him. He stood and looked around. Was it still lurking somewhere nearby.
Behind him, someone muffled a tiny cough. Stone whirled around to see Gideon standing there.
“You did well to escape back there,” Gideon said. “I feared I would have to rescue you again.”
“What sort of creature left this track?” Stone said brusquely, embarrassed that Gideon had managed to sneak up on him.
Gideon shook his head.
“Are you here to track beast or do you seek the monastery?”
“I’m just asking a question. I think this thing tried to kill me.”
“If it wanted to kill you, you would be dead. Follow me and try to keep up.”
Gideon let them around the side of the mountain and out onto a ledge that was scarcely wide enough for Stone to fit onto. Below was a drop of hundreds of feet to a rocky death.
He concentrated on maintaining his balance and taking one step at a time. His boots scarcely fit on the tight ledge. Gusts of wind battered him like invisible hands trying to send him to his death. He ought to be terrified, but as he looked out at the snow-capped mountain peaks all around him, he was overwhelmed by the beauty of the world. Up here it was easy to forget the ugly side of the human race and simply focus on the beauty of creation. A smile spread across his face.
“I have seen that look before,” Gideon said. “Right before someone jumps. One easy step and all your problems go away. Are you giving up, Brock Stone?”
“Not at all,” Stone said. “I’ve been thinking of the world as an ugly place, but really, it’s quite beautiful. It’s only the hearts of men that make it ugly.”
Gideon did not appear to be impressed by this revelation. He quickened his pace, and by the time Stone’s feet were once again on solid ground, the little man was halfway up the next slope. Stone took a gulp of thin air and resisted the urge to pick up a rock and fling it at the annoying local.
“Why did you come back for me if you’re just going to leave me behind again?” he shouted.
“I will not leave you,” Gideon called back. “It is not an option.”
“Some sort of code of honor?” Stone asked, resuming the climb.
“When someone speaks the name of the Celestial Master in the hearing of an initiate, the initiate must decide whether or not to kill that person. I cannot allow the mountain to kill you. That privilege will be mine and mine alone.”
It was a measure of Stone’s world-weariness that the declaration didn’t stir any feelings within him at all. It seemed like men had been trying to kill him, and he them, since the day he enlisted, and he was still here.
“Are you planning on killing me?” Stone asked.
Gideon stopped and turned to grin at Stone.
“I have not decided yet.”
11- Junina
Junina was a petite girl with light brown skin and long, glossy black hair which she wore in a single braid. Her downcast eyes were big and brown. Constance couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for this lovely young lady who seemed so sad. At first, she was friendly, but she frowned at the mention of Trinity’s name.
“She asked a lot of questions,” Junina said. “Asked me about things I don’t like to talk about.”
Constance hurriedly explained the reason for her queries. “I don’t want to ask you anything personal. I am just hoping you can help me determine where she was going next.”
The girl shook her head. “She didn’t say. I just showed her around the school and told her what it was like to live here. Then she asked me about where I lived before.” Junina started to tremble.
Constance took her by the hand. “We don’t have to talk about that. Could you perhaps walk me around the building? Show me the things you showed her?”
Ward chose that moment to make an abrupt entrance. “Sorry.” His tone said he was anything but. “May I help you with anything?”
Constance smiled sweetly. “As a matter of fact, you can mind the office while Junina shows me around. Mrs. Carroll’s orders, you understand. Thank you so much.” She considered giving him a condescending pat on the cheek, but the thought of touching the sweaty man filled her with revulsion, so she settled for taking Junina by the hand and leading her out into the hallway.
As soon as they were out the door, Junina relaxed.
“Thank you for getting me away from him. He makes me uncomfortable.”
“He gives me the same feeling,” Constance said. “But he doesn’t scare me, and he shouldn’t frighten you, either.”
“It’s not him I’m afraid of. It’s Klaus, the caretaker. He does whatever Ward tells him to.”
Constance remembered seeing the quiet conversation between the seemingly ineffectual Ward and the intimidating Klaus. Was there more at play here than a simple relationship between supervisor and employee?
“What can you tell me about Klaus?” she asked.
“A few months ago, our old caretaker suddenly retired. Didn’t give a reason or say goodbye, even though he had been here for fifteen years. Klaus showed up the next day and Ward hired him on the spot.”
“Any idea where he came from?”
“New York. Russia before that. That’s all I know.”
They wandered the halls of the old building. For the life of her, Constance could not imagine what interest Trinity would have had in the history of this place. She had held out hope for the library, but it had been converted to an infirmary, the small collection of books either donated or put in storage.
“Was there anywhere in particular that Trinity seemed especially curious about? Did she spend a lot of time in any one place?”