Clive Cussler - The Kingdom

“Evacuated to where?” asked Sam.

“The decree does not say. The phrase ‘as ordered’ is used several times, which suggests the Sentinels may have received a separate, more specific briefing.”

“Anything else?” Remi asked.

“One item that caught my attention,” Professor Kaalrami replied. “The decree praises the Sentinels’ willingness to die in order to protect the Golden Man.”

“Fairly standard military language,” Sam said. “A pep talk by the general before-”

“No, I’m sorry, Mr. Fargo. I used the wrong word. The praise was not for their willingness to give their lives in the line of duty. The language used was one of certitude. Whoever wrote this document fully expected the Sentinels to die. None of them were expected to return to Lo Monthang alive.”

Shortly before two o’clock, the time Professor Kaalrami had arranged for them to meet with her colleague Sushant Dharel, they left her office and walked across campus to another building. They found Dharel-a pencil-thin man in his mid-thirties, wearing khaki pants and a short-sleeved white shirt-finishing a class in a wood-paneled classroom. They waited until all the students had filed out, and then Professor Kaalrami made the introductions. Upon hearing Kaalrami’s description of Sam and Remi’s interest, Dharel’s eyes lit up.

“You have this document with you?”

“And the translation,” Professor Kaalrami replied, and handed them over.

Dharel scanned both, his lips moving wordlessly as he absorbed the contents. He looked up at Sam and Remi. “Where did you find this? In whose possession was-” He stopped suddenly. “Forgive my excitement and my bad manners. Please, sit down.”

Sam, Remi, and Professor Kaalrami took chairs in the first row. Dharel pulled a chair from around his desk and sat before them. “If you would . . . Where did you find this?”

“It was among the belongings of a man named Lewis King.”

“A friend of mine from long ago,” Professor Kaalrami added. “It was long before your time, Sushant. I believe my translation is fairly accurate, but I could not give Mr. and Mrs. Fargo much context. As our resident expert on Nepalese history, I thought you might help.”

“Of course, of course,” Dharel said, eyes again scanning the parchment. After a full minute he looked up again. “Do not be offended, Mr. and Mrs. Fargo, but for the purposes of clarity, I will assume you have no knowledge of our history.”

“A safe assumption,” Sam replied.

“I should also admit that much of what I am about to tell you is considered by many as more legend than history.”

“We understand,” Remi said. “Please go on.”

“What you have here is known as the Himanshu Decree. It was issued in the year 1421 by a military commander named Dolma. Here at the bottom you can see his official stamp. It was common practice then. Stamps and seals were meticulously crafted and closely guarded tools. Often, high-ranking personnel-both military and governmental-were accompanied by soldiers whose sole purpose was to guard official seals. Given time, I can confirm or refute the provenance of this stamp, but at first glance I believe it to be genuine.”

“Professor Kaalrami’s translation suggests the decree was ordering the evacuation of an artifact of some kind,” Sam prompted. “The Theurang.”

“Yes, quite right. It is also known as the Golden Man. This is where history becomes muddled with myth, I’m afraid. The Theurang is said to have been a life-sized statue of a man-like creature or, depending on whom you ask, the skeleton of the creature itself. The story behind the Theurang is similar to that of Genesis from the Christian Bible in that the Theurang is said to be the remains of the earth’s . . .” Dharel’s voice trailed off as he searched for the correct phrase. “Life giver. The Mother of Mankind, if you will.”

“That’s quite a job title,” Sam said.

Dharel’s brows furrowed for a moment, then he smiled. “Oh, yes, I see. Yes, a heavy burden to carry, that of the Theurang. At any rate, whether real or mythological, the Golden Man became a symbol of reverence for the people of Mustang-and for much of Nepal, for that matter. But the legendary home of the Theurang is said to have been Lo Monthang.”

“This ‘birth giver’ moniker,” Remi said. “Is it believed to be metaphorical or literal?”

Dharel smiled, shrugged. “As with any religious story, the interpretation is in the mind of the believer. I think it is safe to say that at the time this decree was issued, there were more literal believers.”

“What can you tell us about these Sentinels?” asked Sam.

“They were elite soldiers, the equivalent of today’s Special Forces. According to some texts, they were trained from youth for one purpose: to protect the Theurang.”

“Professor Kaalrami mentioned a phrase in the decree-‘as ordered’-in relation to the evacuation plan the Sentinels were supposed to carry out. What are your thoughts?”

“I have no knowledge of the specific plan,” Dharel replied, “but as I understand it, there were only a few dozen Sentinels. Upon evacuation, each of them was to leave the city carrying a chest, a chest designed to confuse invaders. In one of the chests was to be the disassembled remains of the Theurang.”

Sam and Remi exchanged sideways smiles.

Dharel added, “Only a select few in the military and government knew which Sentinel carried the genuine remains.”

Sam asked, “And inside the other chests?”

Dharel shook his head. “I do not know. Perhaps nothing, perhaps a replica of the Theurang. At any rate, the plot was designed to overwhelm any pursuers. Equipped with the best weapons and the fastest horses, the Sentinels would race from the city and separate in hopes of dividing the pursuers. With luck and skill, the Sentinel carrying the Theurang would escape and hide it in a predetermined location.”

“Can you describe the weapons?”

“Only generally: a sword, several daggers, a bow, and a spear.”

“There’s no account of whether the plan succeeded?” asked Remi.

“None.”

“What did the chest look like?” said Remi.

Dharel retrieved a pad of paper and pencil from his desk and sketched a wooden cube that looked remarkably similar to the chest they recovered from the cave. Dharel said, “As far as I have found, there is no description beyond this. The chest was said to have been of an ingenious design, the hope being that each time an enemy recovered one of them he would spend days or weeks trying to open it.”

“And in the process, buy more time for the other Sentinels,” said Sam.

“Exactly so. Similarly, the Sentinels had no family, no friends an enemy could use against them. They were also trained since youth to withstand the worst kinds of torture.”

“Amazing dedication,” Remi remarked.

“Indeed.”

“Can you describe the Theurang?” asked Sam.

Dharel nodded. “As I mentioned, it is said to have man-like features but an overall . . . beastly appearance. His bones were made of the purest gold, his eyes made of some kind of gem-rubies or emeralds, or the like.”

“The Golden Man,” Remi said.

“Yes. Here . . . I have an artist’s rendering.” Dharel stood up, walked around to his desk, and rummaged through the drawers for half a minute before returning to them with a leather-bound book. He flipped through pages before stopping. He turned the book around and handed it to Sam and Remi.

After a few seconds, Remi murmured, “Hello, handsome.”

Though highly stylized, the book’s rendering of the Theurang was nearly identical to the etching on the shield they had found in the cave.

An hour later, back at the hotel, Sam and Remi called Selma. Sam recounted their visit to the university.