Two people can keep a secret, if one of them is dead.
Or if one of them is a yak.
This is the principle on which The Temple operates, perched on one of the more precarious peaks of the Himalayas, in south Tibet. It's on the second highest mountain (approximately twelve feet shorter than Everest, to be exact), which is a very clever way of hiding in plain sight. Travellers looking for a challenge settle for nothing less than Everest for a climb, and anyone not gutsy enough to brave the harsh snow would attempt a much less lofty peak.
The Temple is only called The Temple. It has no other title or nickname. It does not need one, because nobody knows it exists. It is one of mankind's best-kept secrets, and it has not been on a map since the time of the Vikings. There are only two people in The Temple at any given time. One of them is, indeed, a yak.
The other one is a monk. There is always a monk at The Temple, despite how long it has been since The Temple was first set up. There is even one there now. His name is Akar. How old he is cannot be determined. Nobody knows he exists, because he has been living in the temple for almost all of his life. He has been entrusted with a very important task. He keeps a book.
It is an old book, and despite its obvious importance and need for secrecy, it is covered with no ornaments. It is written in leather and ink, having been faithfully copied by hand from the original (which was written on a stone tablet, and has since been broken up and its pieces scattered along the mountains). Its cover is withered and old. Akar cannot read what is written, because the language has long since become extinct. But he keeps the book safe nonetheless, wrapped in skins and hidden under a stone altar. He does not know what he is guarding against, but he knows it must never happen.
Akar is not lonely, even though the yak is not a very good conversationalist. Both he and the yak are of easy temperament and things are calm. People, at one time, used to say that Akar was born under a lucky star, and that his life will be a peaceful one.
They were wrong.
It is night. The sky is black and the snow is white. Everything is silent.
There are two figures hiking up the mountain. One is abnormally tall, and the other is petite, made to look even smaller standing next to his companion. This is not the first time strangers have wandered into this sacred area, but it is the first time this has happened at night. Akar cannot see very far into the darkness, so he lights a lantern and makes his way into the open to redirect these people elsewhere. He feels bad doing it, because although he knows that nobody must enter the temple, he also knows that it is dark and cold and they are probably hungry.
(He does not know how right he is.)
He approaches them. The tall one remains hooded, but the shorter one waves a hand in greeting and allows his cape to fall away from his face. Akar pauses. Something does not seem quite right, but he can't put his finger on what.
The small man comes right up to Akar, and smiles. The meagre lamplight makes him look alien, sharpens his teeth. Akar can't make out the rest of his features very well, but notes how bony and gnarled his hands look despite his youthful face.
"Hello," says the man in accented Tibetan. He has a pleasant voice.
"Good evening," replies Akar, politely. "Are you lost?"
The other man smiles wider. "Yes, I'm afraid. We came here on holiday to climb the mountains, but we may be on the wrong one."
"Travellers don't come here often. There is nobody else on this mountain. You will probably be trapped here until daybreak," replies Akar.
The man doesn't lose his smile, despite Akar's words. "I see. It's lucky that we found you when we did."
Akar falters. He really shouldn't let them in, but to turn them away would be inhumane. He sighs. "Come in, then. Life is humble here, so my home does not have much, but you're welcome to some food and warmth if you wish."
He leads them into The Temple. The big man remains silent and hooded. The small man surveys his surroundings, gaze lingering on the stone altar. Akar is becoming more nervous. He beckons them away from the main hall and into one of the smaller, warmer chambers. He swallows the niggling feeling of worry and smiles, clasping his hands together. "This is my home, gentlemen. What will you have to eat?"
"B negative," says the man smoothly.
Akar frowns. "I'm sorry?"
"B negative," the man smiles again. "It's my favourite. Although I won't complain if you don't have it. It's been a while since I last ate, and you have been a most gracious host." In the light, his teeth do not seem any less sharp.
Akar swallows. The stranger smiles.
"You know, I don't think I'm lost after all."
He lunges.