Treasure Read online

  TREASURE: 15 ADVENTURE THRILLERS

  CHYNA STONE ADVENTURES

  1. The Minoan Mask

  2. The Mummy Codex

  3. The Phoenician Falcon

  4. The Babylonian Basilisk

  5. The Aquitaine Armor

  6. The Ivory Bow

  7. The Rosary Riddle

  8. The Jeweled Crown

  ISLANDS THAT TIME FORGOT

  9. Dinosaur Island

  10. Ape Island

  11. Snake Island

  STANDALONE NOVELS

  12. The Last Crusade

  13. The Swashbucklers

  14. The Honeymooners

  15. Jerusalem Gold

  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. K.T. Tomb. 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 Immortal Plague

  Other Books by K.T. Tomb

  STANDALONE NOVELS

  Tyrannosaurus Knights

  Monster

  Little Wolf

  The Dragon and the Witch

  Jerusalem Gold

  Drums Along the Hudson

  Curse of the Coins

  Ghosts of the Titanic

  The Honeymooners

  The Tempest

  The Swashbucklers

  The Adventurers

  The Kraken

  The Last Crusade

  CHYNA STONE ADVENTURES

  The Minoan Mask

  The Mummy Codex

  The Phoenician Falcon

  The Babylonian Basilisk

  The Aquitaine Armor

  The Ivory Bow

  The Rosary Riddle

  The Jeweled Crown

  PHOENIX QUEST ADVENTURES

  The Hammer of Thor

  The Spear of Destiny

  The Lair of Beowulf

  The Fountain of Youth

  The Ark of the Covenant

  The Seal of Solomon

  The Shroud of Turin

  NICK CAINE ADVENTURES

  Map of the Masons

  Mountains of the Moon

  Order of the Cyclops

  Labyrinth of the Minotaur

  SASQUATCH SERIES

  Sasquatch

  Sasquatch Found

  Bigfoot Mountain

  The Snow Giants

  Kingdom of the Yeti

  CASH CASSIDY ADVENTURES

  The Holy Grail

  The Lost Continent

  The Lost City of Gold

  The Falcon Cloak

  The Jaguar God

  THE ALPHA ADVENTURES

  “A” is for Amethyst

  “B” is for Bullion

  “C” is for Crystal

  “D” is for Diamond

  EVAN KNIGHT ADVENTURES

  The Lost Garden

  Keepers of the Lost Garden

  Destroyers of the Lost Garden

  ISLANDS THAT TIME FORGOT

  Dinosaur Island

  Ape Island

  Snake Island

  SHORT STORIES

  Here Be Dragons

  The Sands of Time

  Treasure: 15 Adventure Thrillers

  Published by K.T. Tomb

  Copyright © 2018 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.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHYNA STONE ADVENTURES

  1. The Minoan Mask

  2. The Mummy Codex

  3. The Phoenician Falcon

  4. The Babylonian Basilisk

  5. The Aquitaine Armor

  6. The Ivory Bow

  7. The Rosary Riddle

  8. The Jeweled Crown

  ISLANDS THAT TIME FORGOT

  9. Dinosaur Island

  10. Ape Island

  11. Snake Island

  STANDALONE NOVELS

  12. The Last Crusade

  13. The Swashbucklers

  14. The Honeymooners

  15. Jerusalem Gold

  About the Author

  THE MINOAN MASK

  by

  K.T. TOMB

  A Chyna Stone Adventure #1

  The Minoan Mask

  Published by K.T. Tomb

  Copyright © 2014 by K.T. Tomb

  All rights reserved.

  The Minoan Mask

  Introduction

  Brompton Road,

  Knightsbridge, London

  It wasn’t often that Countess Ophelia Morton met members outside of the Quests Unlimited Headquarters, itself located below the ruins of Aberdour Castle in Fife, Scotland. In fact, she rarely found the need to leave Scotland at all.

  All things considered, Ophelia had found it difficult to pass up the invitation she’d received from The Angevin Foundation when she’d been invited to London for the gala. The event was the official unveiling of the recently recovered suit of armor historically attributed to Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. Nothing like it had ever been produced since it was forged for the woman who became known as ‘The Eagle.’ It was the find of the century in archeological circles.

  There was certainly a feeling of pride knowing one of her own club members had played a pivotal role in the return of the artifact to its rightful owner after it was pilfered from one of England’s most significant family estates. The details behind the theft and the persons responsible had been skillfully kept out of the press, but Ophelia knew all of the juicy details. Of course, they’d been laid out in as much detail as professionally possible in Chyna Stone’s report which she, Ophelia, had read quite thoroughly; twice.

  The gala, hosted at the Dordogne Estate in Bristol, the seat of the present day Montgomery family, had been a smashing success. Ophelia had enjoyed dining with Chyna and her companion, Tony, most of all.

  When the time had come, Ophelia made her way to the elevated podium and all eyes turned toward her. Flawlessly dressed in a cobalt blue, Bruce Oldfield gown, perfectly set off by the demure Countess of Fife tiara and the matching diamond earrings she wore. There was really no one better suited to deliver the address.

  The room was silent as she cleared her throat and began to speak:

  “Good evening distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen. It is my greatest pleasure to welcome you to Dordogne on behalf of our esteemed host Sir Robert Montgomery. My name is Countess Ophelia Morton, a long time friend of the Montgomery family, head librarian of the Quests Unlimited Explorer’s Club, and a colleague of tonight’s guest of honor.”

  She paused, scanned the crowd, and soaked in the moment. Yes, she really should get out more...

  “I first met Chyna Stone six years ago at the University of Athens in Greece for an exhibition of artifacts uncovered at the site of Daedelaus’ legendary labyrinth. My first impression of her was that she was brash and headstrong, but knowledgeable. Very, very knowledgeable. I also saw something else. She was clearly a rising star and I suspected that one day I would see her name cross my desk with glowing recommendations for membership. I was right.

  “Anyone who knows Chyna, knows her life’s passion is her work. That is, if you can call one’s life passion wo
rk,” she paused to allow that profound thought sink in for a moment before continuing. “And what does she do? She preserves history and recovers it from those who wish to steal it from us. Admirable. Dangerous. Exciting. Words that described both her and the work she does; a work done for the sake of history, not for glory or riches. Indeed, I can only imagine how uncomfortable a ceremony such as this is making her feel. I am sure Chyna would rather be out in the field, or high atop a camel, or deep beneath the earth exploring forgotten ruins.”

  Ophelia stifled a laugh when Chyna looked away, clearly blushing. Yes, Ophelia knew her members well. She went on...

  “Indeed, Chyna Stone is a formidable businesswoman, a relentless explorer, and a faithful friend. That’s why Sir Robert Montgomery’s gift to her is so perfectly suited for this gathering tonight.” Ophelia walked over to the pedestal she shared the stage with and pulled a piece of black cloth away, revealing a medieval helmet.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the battle helmet of Empress Matilda, Lady of the English.”

  The applause was deafening, the men rose from their seats giving a standing ovation. It took Ophelia several minutes to regain the room.

  “For centuries the Dordogne Estate has been home to many lost relics of England’s past. Just as Chyna travels the world today protecting history from those who would steal it away from future generations, the Montgomery family has actively sought out England’s forgotten and sometimes obscure pieces to preserve the stories that formed this great country.

  “So, without further delay, it is my utmost pleasure to present this piece to you, Chyna Stone—a gift from the Montgomery family in appreciation for everything you and your team have done for them and British history...”

  Prologue

  The fire roared in the deep fire pit that dominated the center of the throne room, casting strange shadows on the people seated around it and against the columns and walls.

  The visitor was amazed by the warm glow the fire cast against the golden dais and throne and King Minos’ white robes and huge crown looked even more spectacular in the firelight. The wall behind his magnificent throne was covered in brightly colored frescos of griffins and serpents. He had been taken aback by the lengths to which the court had gone in the entertainment for the night. Surely the effort put forth to honor a person of his station was much grander than would usually be afforded to a simple emissary, particularly one who bore bad news and ultimatums. Minos had taken his time to consider the message brought by the visitor and those who attended him, and he was not without his reservations. He had been apprehensive of how his message would be received but after silently pondering what was said, King Minos had nodded his agreement.

  ***

  King Minos watched the festivities and allowed his mind to wander.

  Certainly taking a woman such as Artemisia of Doria to wife could hardly be called misfortune, but the undertones of the offer were what had unsettled him. Artemisia had sent her emissary to inform the king that he could either marry her and unite their armies against the threat of invasion or her father would lead the Heracleidae against Crete. As he had awaited the arrival of the visitor and his retinue, it had been difficult not to wonder what news came from the North, there had been great unrest building in the Greek territories and whispers of tyrannical invasions.

  Minos had sat under the canopy of his council chair facing the sea and shaded his eyes against the sun as he watched the three Dorian ships make their way into the port at Heraklion. Slaves had surrounded him slowly raising and lowering their large peacock feather fans while his wives arranged fruit, water and wine about the dais. He hated the city. It had a glare he could scarcely tolerate, especially in the height of the hot season. The stark white of the buildings there seemed to magnify each ray of sunlight that hit them.

  Absentmindedly, he had raised his cup and a slave had filled it from a glistening pitcher of cold water. He smiled at her as she struggled to hold the cold vessel. Even the scarce and expensive ice had been procured from the city’s merchants for the occasion, much to the delight of the women that surrounded him. They wet their scarves and veils in basins of the iced water to fend off the oppressing heat. He had gulped down the contents of his cup as though he had been without water for days, and then graciously allowed his wife, Pelephone, to cover his head with her dampened scarf. This had offered some temporary relief to him and he took her hand in gratitude. She had smiled at him and returned to her cushion among the women of Minos’ retinue.

  “Romus,” he called suddenly, to his army commander.

  “My king,” he replied.

  “Let the men quickly take water and refresh themselves. Our guests will be with us soon.”

  “Yes, my king.”

  He was not a hard man, Minos; but he was stringent when it came to protocol. Whereas he would not have tired, thirsty guards about him in the presence of emissaries from a potentially hostile court, he would never allow his army to take repast before them either. The men drank quickly and deeply and the slave girls wiped the sweat from their faces and arms with cold, wet cloth. Suitably refreshed, they reformed their ranks down the multitude of steps from the dais to the courtyard and across the courtyard’s gates.

  There were no trumpets sounded or criers going before the Dorian party as they made their way through the city. It seemed to Minos that they were not keen on announcing their presence to the public; either they were to be suspected or the Dorians were poor. The king favored the latter. When they arrived at the courtyard gates only a flag bearer and four guards went before the three men, followed by two rear guards and a fan slave.

  “Piteous,” hissed Theratides, Minos’ fifth and last wife.

  The wives and concubines all giggled. All except Pelephone, the first.

  “Hush,” she admonished them, “unless you would like to go and wait for us in the heat of the caravan.”

  They fell silent and commenced to demurely pin up their veils and straighten the skirts of their robes. The gates were opened at Minos’ command and the small group of Dorians was admitted before the great court. The flag bearer, front guards and the slave remained at the foot of the steps while the three emissaries and their rear guard climbed them to approach the dais. They looked about them nervously as they climbed with somber mien the seventy-five steps that led up to Minos’ council chair atop the great platform. They fell to their knees and bowed before the dais and the king rose from his chair to greet them.

  “Welcome to Crete,” he said. “Rise.”

  “Thank you, King Minos,” replied the visitor, kissing the hand that had been extended toward him and stepping back so his two attendants might do the same.

  “You are from Doria, sent by King Ada to deliver the terms to unite our houses?”

  “Yes, sire,” the visitor replied.

  “Very well, tonight we feast and maybe tomorrow you may have audience with us.”

  “But King Minos,” the visitor pressed.

  “Silence!” the king bellowed. Then he said to all his court, “Does this one intend to harry the King of Crete?”

  All present, except his guard, laughed loudly. He raised his hand and there was again silence.

  “Visitor, tonight we feast at the palace of Knossos and perhaps tomorrow you will have audience with us,” he repeated.

  The King turned from the men in a swirl of white robes and departed into the council hall behind the dais, leaving them stunned and shamed. Romus assigned two of his men to escort the visitors to their accommodations amongst the wagons and just before sunset, the royal caravan departed Heraklion and made its way slowly towards Knossos.

  ***

  Seeing him seated on his throne with the firelight dancing on the wall behind him, and with his wives and concubines at his feet, his cup being filled by one of the many virgin slaves, it didn’t seem to the visitor that the king was still perplexed by the news.

  He had called them to his throne room that morning to hear their messages
and give his response. It had been five days since their arrival and the rocky encounter they’d had atop the council steps. The king had been pleasant and accommodating to them and had offered favorable responses for them to take back to King Ada and Princess Artemesia. The negotiations had gone well excepting for Queen Pelephone’s incessant scoffing, which had punctuated the entire exchange. Looking at the king now, he seemed pleased with himself, seemed resigned to it in fact, as if it was a satisfactory deal to be had. He raised his cup for the barely clad slave to fill and put the wine to his greedy lips. He was beginning to feel the effects of those many cups but the visitor was content to believe the bright firelight and activity of the court were to blame for his headiness.

  There had been fifteen virgins in yellow and green silk who had performed sensuous, writhing dances for them as they had been served plate after plate of ripe olives, roasted meats and fresh bread. Fruit had been brought after that and delicate sweetmeats prepared from dates, honey nuts and yoghurt. Lean, muscular eunuchs had led three red bulls into the hall and regaled the court with their acrobatic feats and ceremonial bull jumping. They had leaped from the ground to land softly on their backs and ridden them in circles before the crowd. Men climbed onto the shoulders of the riding men to form perfect pyramids of human form before leaping back to the ground in a flurry of twists and tumbles. The court was euphoric, clapping wildly and hooting at them. There were fire eaters before them now and the slaves moved freely ensuring that the guests were attended to in every way.

  Again, the visitor swayed in his seat. He caught himself before falling and looked around, startled. Surely he had not consumed enough wine as to be unsteady sitting down. To his dismay, the men of his party both to the left and the right of him were all folded over themselves, unconscious on their cushions. Then he noticed the slaves staring at him. Those who had served him and his men all stood holding clay wine vessels with double handles on their shoulders, while those who served the rest of the king’s court carried bronze jugs with single handles. He suddenly realized that they had been offered no water for the entire feast; only wine.