Track of the Beast: A Brock Stone Adventure

Interlude 3

The handholds on the side of the steep cliff were few and far between. Stone tried to follow Gideon’s path, but the small man scrambled up the sheer face like a spider up a wall.

“Are you a spider or a man?” Stone mumbled. For a moment, he imagined Gideon scurrying up the side of the Washington Monument, his hands and feet clinging to the smooth marble. He chuckled and kept climbing.

He reached the top and let out a groan. Gideon was picking his way across a frozen, deeply crevassed slope.

“An icefall! That is simply wonderful.”

An icefall was a steep, deeply crevassed surface of a glacier, unstable and drawn inexorably downward by the pull of gravity. It was essentially a slow-moving ice waterfall. Stone had climbed one before, but not without gear. Still, he had no choice.

He made his way along the slick, irregular surface, careful not to break an ankle in one of the crevasses. He took a measure of satisfaction in the fact that Gideon was not moving much faster than he.

Stone’s muscles burned. Sweat poured freely down his face and stung the corners of his eyes. The cold seemed to soak through his gloves and boots.

“He had better be leading me to the monastery,” Stone grumbled.

He had made it two-thirds of the way up the slope when something came flying through the air, headed directly for him. He dodged to the left as a chunk of ice the size of a bowling ball smashed into the spot where he’d been moments before. He landed awkwardly, lost his footing, and skidded back down the slope before arresting his fall.

“Where did that come from?” he muttered.

He looked around for Gideon but there was no sight of him. Surely the small man couldn’t have hurled something that size. Stone shielded his eyes against the angry glare of the sun reflected off of ice. Off to the side, he caught a glimpse of something large and dark disappearing into a crevasse.

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.”