The Cloud Maker

Chapter 52

Norbu sprinted down the corridor, the clatter of his sandals echoing noisily behind him. In one hand he held a burning torch which trailed black smoke. His breath came in long choking sobs.

He had killed Drang. Killed another human being!

The full horror of the notion welled up inside him, choking him with guilt. He would be expelled from the order, left to wander in the wilderness as Geltang’s gates were slammed shut behind him.

He gasped, only managing to half-fill his lungs in panic. He could feel hysteria growing inside him with each door he passed and stairway he descended. His vision started to close in, becoming a circular tunnel of light surrounded by inky blackness. It was dizzying. His shoulder crashed into the wall beside him, sending him staggering off balance, but still his legs continued pounding over the flagstones. They felt numb and detached, as if they belonged to another person entirely.

He had to get to him, to tell him what he had done.

‘Abbot!’ he cried out. ‘Please… Abbot!’

The Perfect Life. That’s what Rega had said.

Just ahead he saw the chain and the trapdoor. With a frantic straining of his arms, he pulled up the heavy wooden door and scampered down the steps, letting the door slam shut behind him. The air below was still; the only sound his own panicked breathing. Norbu waved the torch ahead of him as he edged down the tunnel, directing its orange glow across the murals. Terrible images leaped out at him, with open mouths and fangs, clawing to touch him.

‘A… A… Abbot…’ Norbu stammered, eyes wide with fear. ‘Abbot!’

‘My child, I am here.’

At the sound of the Abbot’s voice, Norbu swivelled his head to face the end of the tunnel. He lunged forward, swinging the torch from side to side, hunting in the darkness. There was a statue shimmering up ahead and Norbu raced towards it, nearly toppling it from its plinth.

Behind it a figure was seated in an alcove, bound by leather straps. As the flames of the torch leaped higher, a mop of hair fell back to reveal pale, unfocused eyes. The apparition’s face remained set for a moment, then slowly creased into an expression of infinite pain. The whole face was hollow, tortured; it was as if he was staring straight into the naked soul of the man. Norbu screamed, falling back against the statue and waving the torch frantically to ward off the sight.

‘Here, child,’ the Abbot called, louder now. ‘I am here.’

Norbu twisted round and raced back along the tunnel. More statues, more recesses. As he hurried past them, the light revealed yet more figures, trussed up in the darkness. They looked up one by one, their eyes staring vacantly at the sudden disturbance to their endless days.

The Abbot was in the last but one alcove. Straps had been bound across his body with the buckles pulled unnaturally tight, forcing his back into a painful arch. His hands were tied with rope in front of him, with the remaining coils looped round his ankles to prevent him moving his legs. Despite it all, his expression was calm. He looked up at Norbu, his forehead creasing in concern.

‘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.