The Ivory Bow (A Chyna Stone Adventure Book 6) Read online

  THE

  IVORY BOW

  A Chyna Stone Adventure

  #6

  by

  K.T. TOMB

  Acclaim for K.T. Tomb:

  “Epic and awesome!”

  —J.T. Cross, bestselling author of Beneath the Deep

  “Now this is what I call adventure. The Lost Garden will leave you breathless!”

  —Summer Lee, bestselling author of Angel Heart

  “The best adventure novel I’ve read in a long time. I can’t wait to read the sequel. Count me a fan. A big fan.”

  —P.J. Day, bestselling author of The Sunset Prophecy

  “K.T. Tomb is a wonderful new voice in adventure fiction. I was enthralled by The Lost Garden...and you will be, too.”

  —Aiden James, bestselling author of Plague of Coins

  OTHER BOOKS BY K.T. TOMB

  STANDALONE ADVENTURES

  The Last Crusade

  The Kraken

  The Adventurers

  The Swashbucklers

  The Tempest

  Ghosts of the Titanic

  The Honeymooners

  Curse of the Coins

  Drums Along the Hudson

  THE CHYNA STONE ADVENTURES

  The Minoan Mask

  The Mummy Codex

  The Phoenician Falcon

  The Babylonian Basilisk

  The Aquitaine Armor

  THE EVAN KNIGHT ADVENTURES

  The Lost Garden

  Keepers of the Lost Garden

  Destroyers of the Lost Garden

  THE PHOENIX QUEST ADVENTURES

  The Hammer of Thor

  The Spear of Destiny

  The Lair of Beowulf

  The Fountain of Youth

  THE CASH CASSIDY ADVENTURES

  The Holy Grail

  The Lost Continent

  The Lost City of Gold

  THE ALPHA ADVENTURES

  “A” is for Amethyst

  “B” is for Bullion

  “C” is for Crystal

  SASQUATCH SERIES

  Sasquatch

  Sasquatch Found

  THE ISLANDS THAT TIME FORGOT

  Dinosaur Island

  Ape Island

  Snake Island

  The Ivory Bow

  Published by K.T. Tomb

  Copyright © 2014 by K.T. Tomb

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  The author wishes to dedicate this book to the late

  Charles Bukowski.

  The Ivory Bow

  Prologue

  Diary of Karl Wiligut

  Denmark, 1943

  There is but one stop left on our way to Germany now. It has been a long and tiring, yet fulfilling journey for me. I can now look my ancestors in the eye when I die and say that I did everything I could for the sake of our family.

  They were glorious people, my ancestors. Yes, it’s true. We were here before the others—before the ones who destroyed us. They germinated on this earth like vermin who fester in the darkness, waiting to crawl out of their holes and consume anything precious in their path. They eliminated us and those who had been our friends.

  Liars! That is what they all were. Usurpers! Yes, that is the word for them—usurpers. If it had not been for their pretentious, blasphemous ancestors, my family would still be relishing in the glory that we so deserve. We would not have fallen into their treacherous hands to be pillaged, plundered and destroyed to the point of oblivion. The true faith would still be thriving in and nourishing this world: my faith, our faith.

  The Adler-Wiligoten was significant, yes. Back when they had lived, there had been three suns driving the earth, and their friends had consisted of all the high and mighty of the time, like dwarves and giants. Two nights ago, while I was talking to them in my sleep, witnessing all their power through my mind, I had even had a vision of a unicorn!

  Times have not always been favorable to us, though. Before we had arisen from a deep slumber, the world had been plunged into war and chaos. There was rampant bloodshed, and people seemed to have lost their vision of a true, loyal, greater life. Red flowed like rivers, and screams permeated the air as it howled through the night and wailed in the valleys.

  I like to believe, just as my ancestors did, that there is a greater power driving us on our path, and everything that happens is a conspiracy of that entity to bring about change, which is constant. When the world had fallen into chaos and ruin, we had arisen. The Adler-Wiligotens had taken control of the wheel and turned it to follow peace. We drove the darkness out of the world and filled it with divine light. The rivers had been red until we purified their waters. The skies had been black until it was us who had stopped the burning fires. The air had resounded with howls until we had nursed the wounded and paid homage to the dead. Peace thus befell the land once again, and the true German culture was born, as was the true religion—Irminen religion.

  Our God Krist was our savior. We had professed his deeds, his love to all who would pay heed. We had worshipped him with all our faith and compiled his teachings in our own book until we were cheated and overrun by Wotanists. They destroyed our temple at Goslar and took over the cities. They butchered the people mercilessly and converted those who survived.

  Thus, Krist became Christ and our teachings came to be known as the Bible. What was left of us was a once mighty people brought low and left to flounder about in the darkness, sans God and sans faith.

  However, with our latest discovery, it seems that all has not been lost. This miracle of nature is what my ancestors had talked about in my dreams. I knew they would help me. I knew that they wouldn’t leave their only heir in the darkness. With Christina of Sweden’s Ivory Bow, I have the chance to salvage the last of our dignity and restore to our family our lost wealth and pride.

  Ever since I was appointed the Standartenfuhrer in the SS, I had occupied myself with finding the only thing I knew I could bring back at the time. Legend has it that when Christina, Queen of Sweden abdicated her throne to convert to Christianity, she was not left with much. Her path to Rome put her through Denmark, with whom Sweden’s relations were tense. She left her castle attired like a man, and could not take such belongings as would have her identified as a Swedish queen. Thus, she had had all her books, valuables and other paraphernalia shipped prior to leaving.

  It is said, however, that she also possessed an ivory bow which was replete with magical powers. When in the hands of the right person, it could wield such great power that whoever commanded it would be made the master of the universe. It was too dear to her heart to have it shipped off with the rest of her belongings. So, she had decided to carry it with her on her journey.

  But the fear of being recognized was too great to overcome. The bow’s reputation preceded it and many avaricious eyes started hunting for it as soon as their correspondent minds learnt of Christina’s abdication. Heartbroken and reluctant, Christina had to sell the bow off to an unknown buyer midway through her journey. After that, there had been so sign of the bow.

  It was this artifact, this source of immense power that I had been searching for. Since being relieved of my duties in the Schalaraffia, I have obsessed over the Ivory Bow, which I know would bring me such power as would help me establish Irminism in the world once again.

  That was my reason of convincing the Nazi army to accompany me in my expedition to Denmark. Through treacherous forests and mountains we wandered, talking to histor
ians and common folk alike to try to get some hint as to where the bow could be. We had found it only three days ago, resting in all its glory in a wayward cave. A family of guardians had been watching it a long time—the buyer’s family, I believe—and there had been a skirmish. As determined as the Nazis are, they butchered the guardians and took the bow. It lies with me now as I write; as does a fear that has festered in my heart since the day I saw them function in the cave.

  I have started to believe that I might have committed a grave mistake by letting the Nazis know of the bow’s existence and its powers. The kind of atrocities I have witnessed in my years pale in comparison to what these men—nay, soldiers—are capable of. I have never seen any as cruel and heartless as them. Thus, it is evident that the thoughts of their power and actions trouble my mind so.

  They have notified their commander of our conquest, and I believe it is not mere whispers I overheard a little while ago. They have an ulterior motive of which I’m not aware, and I fear it has something to do with my salvation. It was hard enough to get the bow away from them long enough to write this.

  What I am sure of, though, is that I need to be prepared. No matter what they might have promised me or what kind of faith they might have shown in my quest, I have witnessed people change in the face of power. They might be advocates of the supremacy of the Aryans, but I cannot trust them.

  I believe they will change too.

  Worthersee, Germany, 1943

  Oh, the horror of it! Oh, the shame!

  I knew the Nazis would change for the worse. Nine years since the fateful return from Denmark and not one day has passed peacefully. Their promises to me were just what I had feared they would be—falsifications. All they wanted was power, but they did not know what to do with it when they had it. I had not realized it then, but they'd had something else in mind entirely, and their plan was already set nine years old.

  The Fuhrer had wanted blood, and he went for it as soon as possible. After my “retirement” under the pretext of poor health, I left for Aufkirchen in 1939, and then Goslar in 1940. I presently reside in terrorized oblivion in Worthersee, devoid of all the comforts I had hoped the discovery of the bow would bring me.

  After its arrival in Germany, there had been much uproar in the ranks of the Nazis regarding the Ivory Bow. I had subconsciously made enemies that I was not capable of fighting. The bow was taken from me for “examination,” and it took me a long while to get it back to safety. Then, the war had started, and I was all but forgotten amidst the extermination and bloodshed. Four years later, I cannot help but feel wary of the effect of it all. At least the bow is safe.

  Alas, if I had thought that my troubles were over due to my obscurity from the Nazis, I was refuted by the Freemasons. How they came to know about The Ivory Bow I will never know, but their determination to procure it scares and angers me.

  Say what they may, I know that the true reason Germany fell to a stature lower than most after the first war was because of the Freemasons. They all but live for oblivion. I even suspect that they were conspiring with the Catholics and the Jews to acquire what they have hankered after since their inception, which just happens to be the destruction of Irminists.

  This is not a recent war at all. I have witnessed destruction at the hands of the Freemasons for many years. It was their ancestors who pillaged the holy temple of Goslar and forced the early Irminists out on the streets. Circumstances have not improved since then. Robbing us of our God and scriptures was not enough for them; so, they started persecuting us. Many fellow brothers of mine have fallen prey to their tricks and torture.

  Now, they seek the one thing I gave my life to, and would protect with it. I live in fear that I will meet the same fate my unfortunate brothers did. Once the Freemasons decide on something, they stop at nothing to acquire it. I know they will come knocking at my door sooner or later and so my life is in grave danger.

  But I swore to protect the bow with my life, and that is what I will do. Thus, I have escorted it to safety by risking my own life. As afraid as I am these days, I cannot disagree that my oblivion provides me with a stark advantage. I can sneak through the halls and crowded streets without being recognized. Thus, I was able to get the bow to protection in the place where I had been reborn, where I started this journey of self-discovery and spiritual awareness.

  I joined the Schlaraffia in 1889 and had many friends by the time I had left. I know I can trust these people. They have become my comrades in my voyage and would go the ends of the Earth to help me. Thus, I have brought my journey to close at the very point it started. The bow rests safely now in the depths of the Lodge’s establishments. I have appointed them as guardians and possessors of it in case something should happen to me. As brave and cruel as the Masons are, I know they will never think of the Lodge when hunting for the bow.

  The time may not be right now, but it will come. The Irminists will come back, and our legacy will be stronger than ever.

  Chapter One

  “God, could it get any hotter?”

  Sirita’s monologue—that had gone from being just an inner one to full blown ranting—disrupted Chyna’s thoughts. She rolled her eyes at her present partner in crime, but could not help agreeing with her. Mexico City was blistering hot, and Chyna had just about had enough of the dirt.

  “Yes, well, we have work, don’t we?” Chyna smiled tightly at her and pressed the buttons to unlock the Land Rover. She got in on the driver’s side while Sirita pummeled the air conditioning controls with her fingers. As Chyna turned the key in the ignition, the doors clicked shut and the car roared to life; so did the AC vents. She put the vehicle in drive while Sirita fanned herself and let out a huge sigh of relief as the car started moving.

  When Chyna drove off, she could see the image of the Chapultepec Castle in her rearview mirror. Her mind was swirling with theories, but that could very well have been the effect of the late nights she’d been having. Maybe bringing Tony with her on the trip this time had not been such a good idea after all. But with Lana already on her honeymoon with Ted, and Mark Gunnar still being as green as new hay, they had needed the manpower.

  Almost immediately, the light bulb in Chyna’s mind went on as she remembered she and Sirita were supposed to meet the boys after their respective missions. So far, their search for Montezuma’s treasure was going slower than Chyna would have liked. She hunted for her Bluetooth headset and dialed Tony’s number on her phone. He picked up almost instantly.

  “Hey, Babe,” his voice came through the receiver. “I was just going to call you.”

  Chyna marveled distractedly at how different F.B.I. Agent Anthony Stewart sounded from her Tony.

  “Well, saved you the trouble. How far along are you?”

  “Nowhere, really. Everything that we’ve found out about the treasure seems to be pure conjecture and little guesses here and there. I don’t think we’ve found a single piece of valid proof of the treasure ever bring real. Did you make any headway?”

  “Sadly, no. We just left the National History Museum in Chapultepec. There is all sorts of stuff from after the Spanish Inquisition. I asked the curator and the authorities about any theories and they told me some snippets, but other than that, it was nothing that we don’t already know.”

  “Maybe they’re right. Maybe it’s all just a hoax,” Tony said, and Chyna was about to interrupt him when he spoke again. “I mean, we have been at this for about two weeks. We should have found something by now.”

  “Maybe it exists. Maybe it doesn’t. But that in no way means that we should stop looking for it. We’ll keep at it, Tony. There must be something. There has to be.” Chyna shook her head, determination stark on her face.

  “You know I’ve never won an argument with you, but I like that kind of losing,” Tony said, and as stressed as Chyna was, she could not resist laughing at that.

  “That was cheesy and you know it,” she chortled.

  “Ah, just thought I’d try. I’m gues
sing it didn’t work very well.” Tony laughed right along with her.

  “No, it doesn’t.” Chyna was smiling. “We’ll meet you back at the hotel?”

  “Absolutely, drive safe.”

  “You too; bye.” Chyna nodded to no one and hung up. She kept driving toward their destination for a while until she noticed Sirita smiling at her.

  “What?” Chyna looked at her.

  “Nothing, it’s just that in the time I’ve known you, our interaction was mostly online, so I still find it strange seeing you like that.” Her partner grinned at her.

  “Whatever.” Chyna resisted the urge to stick her tongue out. “Let’s get back to work, shall we? Sum up what we know.”

  Sirita nodded and switched into work mode. She knew Chyna would never let anything stand in the way of work, and she admired her for that.

  “There is a lot of information out there on Montezuma, but nothing specifically on his treasure. Montezuma the Second, also known as Motecuhzoma Xocoyotzin in ancient Nahautl texts, was the ruler of Tenochtitlan and reigned for about eighteen years.

  “His reign was one of the better times for the Aztec empire, and the civilization reached its maximum size during his time. He even included the Zapotec and Yopi people into his kingdom. I think some of the places that we can start from are the ancient Chiapas and Tehuantepec. They fell under his reign during the fifteen hundreds.

  “He died during the time of the Spanish conquest of Mexico. The then invader, Hernán Cortés, fought alongside his men at the capital of Tenochtitlan, killing Montezuma in the process. One of the theories about the treasure stems from that war.”

  Sirita stopped speaking for a moment and shuffled for something in her bag. After looking for a while, she brought out a small notebook which contained what looked like notes in various colored inks. Chyna marveled at her team member’s efficiency and insistence on writing down everything to be used at the right moment.