Read Online We Are Not Eaten by Yaks by C. Alexander London - Free Book Online Page A

every move. He saw the priests and the men in suits and the shadows dancing on the walls. The spirit searched for the only being to whom he would bow, the highest lama in Tibetan religion, His Holiness the Dalai Lama.
    Dorjee Drakden swung his arms and swept around the circle. He did not see the Dalai Lama; he did not see anyone he considered worthy of his friendship. He arrived at the center of the circle, face to face with a little man on the largest throne, a little man whose feet did not even touch the floor.
    â€œGreetings,” Sir Edmund said as the god hissed and snarled in his face. Dorjee Drakden’s helmet rose several feet above Sir Edmund and his sword could have easily sliced the little man in two, but Sir Edmund was not alarmed. He snapped his fingers, and immediately, two young monks appeared at his side and gave him a long white scarf, which he presented to the spirit. “I bring the respect of the Council, and gratitude for your service to us.”
    â€œI serve the ancient ways, beyond time and form, beyond good and evil.” As the warrior-god spoke, a secretary scribbled every word he said onto a scroll. “I obey no master, but see and hear the crumbling of the universe. I protect the dharma and guide those who stray beyond the hope of kindness. I am fire, light and air. I bow to none but the—”
    â€œYes, thank you,” Sir Edmund interrupted. “That’s lovely and we are very glad for you. We’ve called you here to tell us what we need to know.”
    â€œInsolent little man! You dare to speak to me in this way! I spin the Wheel of Protection and bring demons to despair!”
    Sir Edmund stood on his throne so that his face was a little above the protector-spirit’s.
    â€œIn the name of the Council, I demand you answer me, Drakden. You may be immortal, but that little monk who you’re living in isn’t. He’s our prisoner. So tell me: Where is the Navel family? Where have they gone? They were supposed to land in Beijing. Why aren’t they on the plane anymore?”
    Dorjee Drakden drew back from Sir Edmund and swayed and swooped around the room, hissing and growling, nearly falling under the weight of armor and robes, before stopping in the middle of the circle of men.
    â€œThey are out of your control. They fall toward the gorge and the Hidden Falls. Great power is with them, though they know it not. Great evil too!”
    â€œThey should have landed in Beijing,” Sir Edmund muttered to himself. “This was not the plan. How will our agents intercept them?”
    â€œIf someone else finds them,” said the man in the baseball cap, while texting on a tiny cell phone, “then your whole plot is in danger of falling apart, Ed.”
    â€œMy plot is perfect!” Sir Edmund objected. “This is just a wrinkle. My people will come through.”
    â€œBut if the Navels should find—”
    â€œRelax,” said Sir Edmund. “I always have a backup plan. They are headed into the realm of the Poison Witches.”
    â€œHeresy! Damnation!” shouted Dorjee Drakden as he rushed at Sir Edmund, waving his sword and shouting. “These witches do not respect my authority. They are unholy creatures, whose souls are black and screeching owls. Murderers! They will not bow to me!”
    â€œOh, hush,” Sir Edmund snapped. “Get over yourself. Do you want Shangri-La to be found? Turned into a tourist attraction? An amusement park?”
    â€œI do not,” said Dorjee Drakden with a swipe of his sword through the air, trying to regain his impressive composure. “I have protected it since before it existed.”
    â€œThat doesn’t make any sense,” Sir Edmund said. “Now stop being cryptic. I need to make sure they find their way to this place.”
    Sir Edmund pointed to a map on the wall that was unlike any other map in the world. It was old and faded, and would not have been so