Quinn Chapman and the Altar of Evil III

The deadly kiss of sharpened steel tickled my stubbled throat. At any moment I expected to see the crimson spray of my blood decorating the stuffy confines of the chamber in which I found myself. It was then I noticed the increase of light in the room as the flickering fame of a candle lantern was unveiled.

"Who are you that would seek the treasures of the Shangshung? That would lead these evil men into my Kingdom?"

To my ultimate surprise, the silken voice which questioned me was that of a woman. "I'm Quinn Chapman and I was not leading them by choice but was held captive. Who are you that claims the lost kingdom as your own?"

I felt the cold steel blade lift from my throat and the sturdy grip of my interrogator loosen. She came to stand before me and in the wavering light of the candle, I beheld such beauty as had never seen before. Her almond eyes were glittering jewels of jade, her skin the color of rich amber, and her hair was a cascade of ebony. The strength by which she had held me belied her graceful limbs and nubile form.

"Quinn Chapman? I have heard this name before, in other places. You are known in the East. I am Amala, the last descendant of the lost Queen Sadmarkar and I seek now to reclaim my Kingdom and its treasures."

I stared, transfixed by the alluring form of this lost queen. Instantly I knew that I must help her reclaim the Kingdom she had lost. No longer was my mind devoted to the treasure alone, for surely, I would be rewarded for my service.

"Amala, Queen of the Shangshung Kingdom, I will help you return to your lands." I vowed this with a fervor brought on by one who instantly finds themselves in love. 

"Do so, and I will gift to you such treasure as you could only dream."

Amala sheathed her wicked looking knife and was about to speak when the snarling, guttural voices of the Germans reverberated in the stone alleyway outside our refuge. I jumped to my feet and rushed to the door, ensuring the iron bolt was closed. Through the cracks between the wooden slats, I espied trollish Klaus and slithering Captain Braune, but they were not alone. Several more Huns had joined them and one other. One of the black robed wraiths that had accosted me before. 

Amala sprang to the door, lithe as a panther. The smell of jasmine tickled my nostrils and the heat of her body next to mine drew me to her over the danger we now faced. 

"The Gongpo priests." She whispered. "Mahakala, the chief amongst their filthy kind. The are corrupted practitioners of our ancient religion."

From without, the ghostly form pointed one pale skeletal finger in the direction of the door I now stood behind. Without hesitation, the bestial Klaus charged like a raging bull, driving his massive shoulder into the insubstantial door. The force of the blow threw us back even as the hinges began to splinter under the assault.

"Is there another way out of here?" I searched the dismal red painted walls around me, seeing no door from which we might make it to safety. 

Amala wasted no time with words and led me back to the wall opposite the trembling door.

With a graceful movement, Amala placed her delicate hand on a section of the wall and pushed it aside, revealing a hidden passageway wreathed in menacing dark. The stone was cold and rough to the touch, evidence of the passage's age and disuse. As we stepped through the narrow opening, a musty smell filled my nostrils, a mix of ancient stone and dead stale air.  The stone door ground shut behind us, closing off the last glimmer of light. The darkness was all-encompassing; I was blind and forced to use my other senses to know where I was going.

The raucous sound of the Germans' pursuit grew fainter as we moved deeper into the odious passageway. The rough-hewn walls were slick with moisture and repugnant slime, and I could hear the sound of dripping water echoing in the darkness. Amala lit a small lamp and led me through the twists and turns with ease, her lithe form effortlessly navigating the narrow passages. The occasional rustle of her clothing and the sound of her soft footsteps were the only sounds in the dank, musty air.

My heart raced as we ventured forth into the ethereal darkness, but I could not take my eyes off the alluring figure of Amala moving ahead of me, illuminated by the minor glare of the lamp. I gazed upon her figure and was mesmerized by the glossy waterfall of ebony hair cascading over her shoulders. Every line of her body exuded strength and grace, and I found myself drawn to her in a way that defied explanation. The fact that she was a Queen of a lost civilization only added to her mystique. 

Emerging from the passage, we were greeted by the languid flow of the sweeping Lhasa River, its steady flow courses through the floodplain like spilled molasses. We climbed into a small wooden boat, which must have been Amala's as it was stocked with supplied for a journey of many days, and pushed off from the rock-strewn shore, the sound of the oars cutting through gurgling water. 

Amala took the helm and expertly navigated us down the winding river, her eyes fixed ahead, seeking treacherous currents and rocks which could dash our small craft to pieces. I watched in awe as she guided the boat with a seemingly effortless grace, her lithe form moving with the rhythm of the water like a leaf floating downstream.

"Do you know how to reach the hidden valley of your Kingdom?"

"I know only that it is many days west of Lhasa, along the Garuda. Memory of it has faded with time."

I smiled at her, unable to contain myself in her exquisite presence. I pointed to my head. "I have the map. It's all in here."

"So, this is why the Germans wanted you? I fear they now know the secret location from their unholy alliance with the black priests of the Bon."

 

I could only nod, not having come to the conclusion Amala has so succinctly presented. We would not be alone when we entered the lost city. With that thought, I knew we sorely lacked firepower of our own, the Germans having stripped me of my prized iron. I thought perhaps Amala might have something, so I took it upon myself to search amongst the provisions tied to the deck of our hardy vessel. With luck I discovered a metal case and within was a British Webley break action nestled in a leather shoulder holster with plenty of ammunition. I did not ask about the provenance of the pistol, nor did I ask permission as I pulled the straps of the rig over my shoulders and snugged them tight. I broke the action open and checked the cylinders, they were loaded.

"You must have anticipated a fight," I ventured.

"Was I wrong to do so?" Amala asked, without looking back.

"I certainly don't think so."

I closed the action and stowed the Webley securely in its leather bed and leaned back against the gunwale and closed my eyes.

Days passed without event until we reached the confluence of the Garuda River. I couldn't help but gape at the awe-inspiring scenery that surrounded us. The lofty snow-covered peaks and mighty walls of rocks rose high into the sky like titans of stone, their rugged faces battered by the wind and weather. Yet even in the midst of this wild and harsh beauty, Amala remained the most captivating sight of all, her beauty shining like a beacon in the midst of the harsh terrain and turbulent waters.

"Amala, have you ever seen such a view?" I exclaimed as we paddled into the Garuda. "It's truly breathtaking."

Amala nodded; her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Yes, it's beautiful," she replied wistfully, "It is my home, the jewel of Tibet. Now I'm interested in hearing about your adventures. You are known as a great adventurer, are you not?"

I chuckled at my own legend, "Well, I suppose you could say that. I've been on a few expeditions in my time."

"Tell me more," Amala said eagerly leaning forward. "What was your greatest adventure? What did you discover?"

My eyes glinted with amusement as I remembered my many past expeditions. "Well, there was one time in the Amazon rainforest where I came face to face with a giant anaconda. It was quite the battle, let me tell you."

Amala's eyes widened in amazement. "Truly? How did you survive the evil depredations of the might serpent?"

I grinned, the memory flooding back to me like a dam broken. "With a bit of luck and a lot of quick thinking. You learn to adapt in situations like that."

Amala nodded thoughtfully, "It sounds like you have lived a very interesting life, Mr. Chapman." 

"Call me Quinn." 

"Quinn," she repeated, testing the word on her tongue. 

My expression grew solemn. "Tell me more about the Silver Palace and your lost kingdom."

Amala's emerald eyes grew distant as she spoke of her lost kingdom. "In the Kyunglung Ngulkar Karpo, there exists a cult known as the Bon," she began. "They engaged in bloody rituals to expand their consciousness, tearing out their tongues and using them as talismans in battles with demons. The Gongpos were the high priests of the palace, now corrupted from the true Bon religion, where my ancestors ruled as kings and queens." She paused, as if remembering a distant memory.  "My ancestor, Queen Sadmarkar, was unhappy with her husband because she abhorred the bloody rituals of the Bon cult and their worship of Nyelwa Nakpo, the creator of demons. She had long since become a Buddhist sympathizer while her husband allowed the dark rituals. In the end, the king was brutally assassinated by Songtsen Gampo's soldiers, leading to a bloody religious war that lasted for decades. Now what is left of my country is in the hands of the vicious Gongpo priests." Amala's voice was heavy with sadness as she recounted the loss of her kingdom and the erasure of its once vibrant culture.

I reached out to her and pulled Amala into my embrace, assuring her that all would be well. 

"We will win back your kingdom from the Gongpo's and save your treasures from the Germans." 

Amala's eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed with skepticism. "And how do we plan to do it?"

I shrugged and chuckled at my own lofty declaration, "I'm not entirely sure yet. But I have a feeling it won't be easy. It never is."

As we continued our journey, I couldn't help but be struck by Amala's inquisitive nature, her isolation having kept her ignorant to the wider world, as she asked me about my life as an adventurer. Her interest was infectious, and I found myself regaling her with tales of my exploits and daring escapes, much to her delight and mine. 

We laughed and shared stories, passing away the long journey, yet I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the pit of my stomach like a bear on its kill. I knew that the Germans were in hot pursuit, their foul leader Captain Braune, accompanied by his brutish lieutenant Klause, were certainly planning bloody revenge. They were not alone in the desolate wilderness, for the mysterious wraiths of the Gongpo priests slinked in the shadows, seemingly in league with our enemies. It was a vile and fearsome alliance, one that sent shivers down my spine and made my blood run cold.

Even as we travelled down the Garuda River, the diabolical assemblage was making its way overland with the help of Tibetan guides they had forced into service at gunpoint. I couldn't help but wonder what twisted schemes they were plotting, and what wicked horrors awaited us at the end of our journey.

If you missed the first installment of the Altar of Evil, you can read it HERE and the second installment HERE.