Into The Jaws Of The Lion (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 5)

by N. S. Wikarski

  “And everybody is happy with this arrangement?” The Pythia’s tone was dubious.

  “They seem to be—”

  “—from what we’ve observed.”

  “Polyandry has been around for thousands of years,” Griffin remarked. “In Kerala which we recently visited, the Nair caste was polyandrous until about a hundred years ago. In contrast, polygyny is favored by overlord cultures. Because overlords live by the sword, a certain percentage of the adult male population is always killed off in their endless bouts of warfare. This would leave a surplus female population and also a need to produce more male offspring as cannon fodder. Actually, spear fodder might be the more accurate term.”

  “If polyandry is still so popular in the Himalayas, I’m guessing overlord values didn’t gain much of a foothold here,” Cassie speculated.

  The Scrivener nodded. “You’re quite correct. Polyandry seems to spring up primarily in societies which are egalitarian in nature. It has been practiced by gatherer-hunter tribes stretching from the arctic to the tropics and always where greater gender balance prevails than is the case with overlord societies. Himalayan culture was originally matrilineal and women controlled their own property. Divorce among monogamous couples was a simple matter of dividing up each partner’s belongings and going their separate ways. Likewise, extramarital affairs were tolerated for either partner without social stigma. Of course when Europeans first came to this part of the world, they criticized the moral laxity of the natives. The combined pressure from overlord Europe, India and China eventually caused the indigenous culture to erode.”

  Cassie switched her attention from Griffin to the twins. She still had a few more questions about their qualifications and didn’t want to get sidetracked no matter how interesting the discussion of polyandry might be. “It makes sense that Home Office tagged you two to guide us to Mount Kailash. If you’ve been interviewing families out in the sticks you must know this terrain pretty well.”

  “We do,” they both answered.

  The Pythia frowned. “But we also need security back-up. Have you had any training in self-defense?”

  The twins looked at one another in surprise.

  “Didn’t we tell them that we’re both martial arts experts?” Rabten asked. “Or that we’re both pretty good with firearms?”

  Rinchen shook his head. “I don’t think that ever came up.”

  “Or that we’ve handled artifact transfers under the radar before?”

  “Nope. That didn’t come up either, bro.”

  “Oh.”

  At that moment, the waiter returned with their entrees.

  While the plates were being handed out, Cassie leaned toward Griffin and whispered jokingly, “Well, they’re not Erik but I guess they’ll do in a pinch.”

  The Scrivener smiled at her and winked. “Quite.”

  Chapter 39—Simply Breathtaking

  In the town of Darchen at the foot of Mount Kailash , Cassie lay on her hotel bed struggling to fill her lungs with air. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been warned, she told herself. Most people had difficulty adjusting to the extreme change in altitude. Given her famously sensitive nervous system, she’d felt dizzy and light-headed ever since they’d left Kathmandu.

  When she and Griffin had originally planned their journey, she’d pointed out that there were direct flights from Lhasa to an airport about two hundred miles east of Darchen. They could have reached their destination in about a day. Griffin rejected the idea because he said the four-day trip from Kathmandu would allow them time to acclimate to the altitude. Cassie now realized that four days weren’t going to be nearly long enough. If they had taken a direct flight from Lhasa, the abrupt change in altitude might have killed her outright.

  As it was, their staged journey had been challenging enough. To begin with, they’d flown in a tiny plane from Kathmandu to a town called Nepalgunj. The ride lasted a mere hour but there was only one flight per day. After an overnight layover, they’d rushed to catch the sole flight of the day that would take them to their next stopping point. It left at 6 AM but since the weather was cloudy, the plane was delayed a few hours. The twins repeated a bit of folk wisdom about not flying through clouds in the Himalayas because the clouds had rocks in them. Cassie took their advice to heart and waited without complaint until the plane was cleared for departure.

  They spent that night in the stark rural village of Simikot. The Pythia thought back fondly to the good old days when she and her teammates had stayed in five-star hotels. Given the paucity of guest houses along their route, they were lucky to have a roof over their heads at all. Sleeping accommodations invariably consisted of mattresses flung on bare floors with all four of them in the same room. The cinderblock buildings in which they were housed had no indoor plumbing and drinking water needed to be boiled before consumption. A shower was out of the question.

  Meals always included yak butter tea which tasted more like salty broth than a beverage. The staple food was barley flour noodles—bland but filling. Stoves were fueled by dried chips of yak dung. The local people had little enough to go around even for themselves, much less for tourists. Cassie made sure that the Arkana team gave far more money than was asked in exchange for the humble bed and board they received.

  When they left Simikot, their last bit of air travel involved a forty-five minute helicopter flight to the equally barren Nepalese town of Hilsa. While there, the twins managed to procure the use of two Land Rovers for the rest of their trip. Rabten took the wheel of one and Rinchen the other. They apparently knew the terrain and the local people quite well. When the Pythia questioned the need for two vehicles, Rinchen reminded her that if their quest was successful, they would have to part ways at Kailash. The twins would take a separate route through Lhasa in order to smuggle the artifact out of the country, leaving Cassie and Griffin to return the way they’d come.

  The Arkana group drove across the bridge that officially divided Nepal from Tibet. After the Chinese border guard checked their papers and put them through the other formalities of entering the country, they were allowed to continue on their way. Although flying from Kathmandu to Hilsa had been uncomfortable, driving on land didn’t offer any improvement. The roads in western Tibet were unpaved and bumpy. Their SUVs churned up so much dust that even if they’d wanted to roll down the windows for fresh air, it wouldn’t have been possible. Thankfully, it was only a short trip to Purang where they stopped for the night. Tibetan guest houses proved to be no better than what the group had already experienced in rural Nepal.

  On the final morning of their trip, they drove three hours to Lake Manasarovar where they paused briefly to stretch their legs. According to Hindu mythology, the lake itself was the source of the Indus as well as the other three major rivers of the sub-continent. Even though it was a brisk October day, a few pilgrims insisted on bathing in its sacred waters. Across the lake, they caught sight of their ultimate destination at last—the snow-capped dome of Mount Kailash.

  After taking a few moments to appreciate the view, they all piled back into the Land Rovers and headed for the village of Darchen which was situated at the base of the holy mountain itself. Many of the people who came to Kailash were content to pitch tents on the outskirts of town but there were a few hotels offering indoor shelter. The Arkana group selected an establishment which advertised itself as a grand hotel. Considering the rest of the bare-bones lodgings in town, maybe it had a right to that title. It was certainly grand by the standards of what they’d encountered so far. Although the hotel didn’t have much in the way of amenities, at least the mattresses rested on bed frames. Cassie was even able to claim the luxury of a room to herself because it was the end of the season and business was slow.

  A gentle knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

  Griffin poked his head in. “The fellows are waiting to guide us up the mountain. Are you ready?”

  Cassie moaned, struggling to sit up. “Not even close but let’s go anyway.”


  ***

  A half hour later, the little party had labored up the steep incline from the town to reach the path that circled the mountain. Unlike the balmy weather in Kathmandu, the temperature here was barely above freezing. The air felt bone-chilling and dry while the incessant wind blew dirt everywhere. The eeriest feature of the landscape was a complete absence of trees. There was no rustling of leaves. Out here, the wind blew unopposed and the sound it made seemed hollow and ghostly. The mountains formed a pretty backdrop but the plateau itself looked and felt bleak—an endless stretch of cold desert four miles above sea level. Even wildlife seemed to shun the barren expanse with the exception of stray dogs sniffing hopefully for scraps of food. Cassie found herself wondering how anybody could scratch out a living in terrain like this. Polyandry was starting to make sense to her now.

  As they travelled upward on the trail, they paused to contemplate the peak towering directly above them. It was understandable that this mountain had been singled out as a spiritual symbol by so many religions. Some of them even considered it to be the center of the universe. The summit was oddly symmetrical. It formed a perfect four-sided pyramid without any jagged edges. Unlike some of the neighboring mountains, the top of Kailash was completely covered by snow and its white cap made it conspicuous for miles around.

  The site drew the faithful like a magnet. The Arkana group passed numerous pilgrims walking the path around the base of the mountain. A few of these parties were accompanied by guides and yaks to carry their supplies. The animals wore bells or brightly colored yarn twisted into their thick hair. They seemed unconcerned by the heavy packs strapped to their backs as they picked their way nimbly over the rock-strewn mountainside, occasionally stopping to graze on the pitifully sparse clumps of grass which grew at wide intervals.

  The twins informed them that the trail around Kailash measured thirty-two miles. Hindus, Buddhists and Jainists walked it clockwise. Followers of Bön moved counter-clockwise around the mountain. Some of the hardier pilgrims were making the journey by lying on the ground and creeping forward on their bellies.

  The Pythia noticed an elderly female pilgrim who knelt on the rocky ground to pray for a few seconds before lying down prone with her arms stretched forward. She made a mark in the earth with her fingers then rose to her feet again to pray before advancing to the marked spot to begin the process all over again.

  “That’s gonna take a while,” Cassie confided to Rinchen who was standing beside her.

  Today he’d switched his White Sox jersey for a warmer White Sox jacket and cap but the color distinction remained. His brother wore a blue Cubs jacket and matching cap.

  “Performing the pilgrimage by lying down prostrate between each step takes about four days,” Rinchen said.

  Cassie was shocked. “But where do they sleep? Where do they find food?”

  “There are three monasteries along the trail for shelter. About a day apart,” Rabten informed her. “But since the monasteries can’t house more than a handful of people, most of the pilgrims bring their own food and water. A lot of them bring their own tents too. That’s why they have pack animals. Ordinarily, the walk takes about three days—”

  “—but if you want to score extra karma points,” his brother cut in, “then you do the walk in one day. That would take about fifteen hours. Of course, you’d win the karmic grand prize by doing it like that lady on the ground over there.”

  “Speaking of karma,” Griffin piped up. “I’ve heard this pilgrimage is supposed to lighten one’s cosmic debt considerably.”

  The twins nodded.

  “That’s right,” Rabten concurred. “They say one trip around the mountain wipes away the bad karma from a person’s current life.”

  “And supposedly,” his brother added, “108 revolutions will take you out of the loop of reincarnation completely.”

  “You forgot about the lake,” Rabten murmured to his brother.

  “Oh, right,” Rinchen said. “Another Get Out Of Jail Free card is to walk the path and then take a bath in Lake Manasarovar. That water’s cold, even in the middle of summer, and I do mean cold. Maybe hypothermia is the ultimate path to salvation. Who knows?” He shrugged expressively.

  Winded by the steep climb, they all paused to catch their breaths.

  Cassie, straining for air, said, “Guys, I don’t know how we’re going to climb to the top of the peak if we’re already gasping at this stage. How high up are we?”

  “Darchen is about fifteen thousand feet above sea level—”

  “—and the summit of Kailash is over twenty thousand feet.”

  “Not to mention the diameter,” Griffin remarked. “Searching a mountain of this size is a daunting task, even without the risk of altitude sickness.”

  “Nobody is allowed to climb the peak. It’s considered a sacrilege,” Rabchen informed them.

  Cassie and Griffin exchanged a panicked look.

  “But what if the artifact’s in a cave at the very top?” Cassie objected. “How are we supposed to get to it?”

  “Don’t worry. We won’t have to climb that high.” Rinchen grinned.

  The Pythia and the Scrivener peered at him suspiciously.

  “I think the thin air must be making you loopy too,” the Pythia murmured.

  “No, no.” Rabchen rushed to his brother’s defense. “He means that we think we know where your artifact might be.”

  “It’s up pretty high but not at the very top.”

  “We’ve been to the spot before but we didn’t make the connection that it was an Arkana artifact until we got this assignment.”

  “There’s something odd in Saptarishi Cave.”

  “Saptarishi Cave?” Cassie repeated.

  “Yeah, it’s a holy shrine at the base of the peak. Around nineteen thousand feet up,” Rinchen said.

  “Traditionally, pilgrims don’t consider themselves worthy to enter the shrine until they’ve made thirteen circuits around the base of the mountain.”

  “Thirteen!” Cassie exclaimed in disbelief. “I don’t think so!”

  “It’s OK,” Rabten reassured her. “With all the Western tourists traipsing through this area nowadays, nobody insists on following that custom.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Griffin murmured.

  “Saptarishi means ‘seven sages’,” Rabten continued. “They’re very famous wise men in Hindu mythology. Supposedly they were married to these seven sisters—”

  “Hold on.” Griffin cut him off. “Seven sisters, did you say?”

  “Uh huh.”

  Cassie and Griffin found themselves smiling.

  “Oh boy,” the Pythia said. “Jackpot!”

  “What did we say?” Rabten asked helplessly.

  “The seven sisters are a clear reference to the Pleiades,” Griffin answered. “The last artifact we retrieved was decorated with jewels representing the seven sisters and the clue inscribed on it referred to the constellation as well. Your Saptarishi Cave proves that we’re on the right track.”

  “The cave is on the south face of the mountain.” Rabchen pointed to a spot high above them.

  “It’s about a seven mile hike from Darchen to Saptarishi and it’s a steep climb so it’s going to take three hours or so to get there.”

  Despite the distance and the thin air, Cassie and Griffin began walking with far more energy than either one had demonstrated that morning.

  The Scrivener scowled in concentration.

  Noticing his expression, Cassie asked, “What?”

  “Now that I think of it, I do recall reading some facts about the Pleiades as they relate to Hindu beliefs. Before the Aryan incursion into this region, the seven sisters were seven mythological priestesses who judged the merit of human souls. Alcyone, the most prominent star in the cluster, was even identified with the pre-Hindu mother goddess of creation. It’s quite likely that before Saptarishi Cave was claimed by the seven sages, it belonged to the seven sisters. Of course, once the
overlords arrived in the area, they tinkered with its mythology as others of their kind have done the world over.”

  “Makes sense,” Cassie remarked archly. “If you’re the new god in town what better way to improve your status than to hook up with the local goddess and become half of a power couple.”

  “Marriage was the typical method by which overlord gods took control,” Griffin continued. “All the ancient goddesses of the region became consorts of overlord gods and the same fate awaited the Pleiades. The sisters were married off to the seven sages but their Sanskrit name bears a hint as to their pre-Hindu mythological function. They are called the ‘Krittika’. The name translates as ‘the cutters’ which hearkens back to their role as judges of human souls. They were the Himalayan equivalent of the Fates in Greece who also predated Zeus and the Olympians. The Fates spun out a person’s destiny and cut the thread of life when that destiny had been fulfilled.”

  The Scrivener paused, out of breath once more.

  “Griffin, I think you better stop talking so much,” Cassie advised. “Not that it isn’t interesting but you need to conserve the air in your lungs.”

  He nodded between gasps, too winded to reply.

  They all looked upward at the white summit of the holy mountain still miles above them.

  It was going to be a long day.

  ***

  Several hours later, the weary quartet approached the cave entrance. Some of the pilgrims around them were using ropes which their guides had anchored to the rocks above. The incline was steep but the Arkana group opted to scrabble up the last bit of mountainside without any additional support. This was a perilous maneuver since they practically had to crawl on all fours over loose granite. The gravel was slippery enough that they risked sliding backward several hundred feet if they weren’t careful. Cassie made it a point not to look over her shoulder.

  Fortunately, the cave itself offered solid footing. When they reached the entrance, they were able to straighten up and relax. Saptarishi Cave wasn’t so much a cave as a fissure in the mountainside—a stone ledge sheltered by a prominent overhang of solid rock. A gap of several feet separated the roof from the floor of the cave so that anyone inside could look out and view the scenery miles below. Along the outer wall between the floor of the fissure and the stone ceiling, someone had erected a series of huge man-made pedestals. Each of these pedestals held a dome-shaped structure and on top of each one was a golden spire that looked like a Christmas tree topper.