by K. T. Tomb
She laughed at her own wit and smiled broadly at Chyna. She was so glad to see Lana happy; they both had such high-stress jobs and the imminent danger from day to day was enough to get even the most positive person a little dour every now and then.
“Well, now it’s time you all did some work around here; the ‘British Holiday’ is over.”
“Yeah, it’s about that time,” Lana agreed. “Umm, Chyna and Tony, this is Mark Gunnar. He’s our new junior investigator; if it all works out, he’ll be on the Istanbul team to back up Chyna and Sirita.”
“Nice to finally meet you, Mark. Welcome to the team,” Chyna said.
“Yeah, good to have you,” Tony added, shaking the man’s hand. He couldn’t help but give him the once up and down. It was clear that Tony still wasn’t keen on the idea of a handsome, blond Finnish man working so closely with Chyna.
“Here are the requests that are possible next jobs for us. We need something lucrative and we need something for the whole team. We also need something that can be a good opportunity for Sirita to engage her logistics skills, Oscar to practice his tactical training and for Mark to get a good understanding of how we operate in the field. Discuss!”
Chyna decided to walk Tony out; it was grossly inappropriate not to kiss him goodbye after their lovely lunch together, but even more so to do it in front of a roomful of employees. When she returned to her desk, she had three new emails in her inbox. Two were from Sirita but the third caught Chyna’s interest; it was from a woman she had met briefly at Sir Robert's party the previous weekend. She was the daughter of a Norwegian oil magnate whose company, Lothbruk Investments, donated two hundred and fifty thousand pounds to The Angevin Foundation’s historic buildings restoration fund every year. The subject of the email was ‘Ivory Bow’.
Chyna clicked on Thyri Ragnarsson’s email and read it.
Good Afternoon Chyna,
Greetings from Oslo. Firstly, I’d like to take the opportunity to formally thank you for taking my friend Mark Gunnar under your wing. He proved a big help to me and my team some time back and he seemed to have caught the adventure bug. I’m still not sure why he didn’t take up the position we offered him in Atlanta, but I’m nonetheless happy that he has found a place at Found History.
The main reason for this email, however, is regarding a lead for a new investigation. I received a direct request from some friends of my grandfather’s who wanted my team and me to help them track down a lost family heirloom. Unfortunately, I’m absolutely up to the neck at Lothbruk negotiating a pipeline merger and the Alphas are otherwise engaged in Mongolia. Usually, I would just insist that the team leave their present assignment as soon as it is completed and go directly to the next, but the client can’t wait that long. He will need a team to meet with him before he leaves Sweden for his annual family holiday to the Seychelles two weeks from today.
It should be an interesting assignment for your team, Chyna, and unless the unexpected happens, which is sort of our modus operandi situation; it should be a pretty straightforward one as well. The client has an interest in some of the possessions of Queen Christina of Sweden, items from her childhood and her early reign and has recently inherited a treasure trove of personal and historic items related to her. Somehow he has gotten it into his head that there are some crucial pieces missing from the collection; in particular a hunting bow that was a gift from her father; a pure white, ivory bow. He needs investigators to dig up the truth and if it exists, to recover it.
Let me know if your team is available for the job so that I can send over the details immediately.
Thanks,
Thyri Ragnarsson
Chyna sent the email to the printer and stood up from her desk. She retrieved the paper on her way out the door and went directly to the table where the others were sitting, going through the pile of email requests she had given them and arguing amicably.
“Okay,” Chyna said loudly so they would hear her. “Forget what I said earlier about discussing those emails. We have a referral and this is what we will be doing next.”
Chyna put the paper down on the desk and looked at Lana and Mark, who were seated beside each other.
“This one came from Miss Ragnarsson at Lothbruk Investments in Oslo, Norway. And, as is her usual style, it is an offer we can’t refuse.”
The End
Chyna Stone returns in:
The Ivory Bow
A Chyna Stone Adventure #6
Return to the Table of Contents
THE
IVORY
BOW
A Chyna Stone Adventure
#6
by
K.T. TOMB
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 si
nce 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 historians 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 th
an 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 guessing 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?”