Unbeknownst to Alfred, the ceremony involved every one of Raja Kumar Chatur's priests and soldiers from Calcutta, who had all come to worship and drink the essence of Black Tara—this gave the young man more time to break free from being chained to the wall. Right now, he had already used his seemingly superhuman strength to rip the chains fastened to the walls from his wrists and ankles, but in order to free his neck, he turned around and held the thick, noisy chain, pulling it at full force so that he fell to the straw-covered ground. The wound on his chest began to hurt again, but he looked down at the streak of blood on his shirt. He touched it, wincing as he remembered how badly it hurt when the raja slashed at him. It was agonizing, but luckily, the cut dried into a scab that wasn't life-threatening.
Alfred looked down, noticing that the cuff was still around his neck, paid no mind to it and walked over to the gate, his newly liberated hands searching for a sharp, pointy object to help him pick the lock to regain his humanly freedom. In his pocket was a pocket knife, but n the floor, he found a thin nail that was just small enough to stick into the hole and jab around to unlock it. Picking it up, he tried to look outside before slowly sticking it into the keyhole. After a few minutes of persistent moving, the cell gate opened, allowing him to free his neck from the thick iron cuff surrounding it.
Running out, he realized he was not under any supervision, nor were there priests or soldiers walking around, so it gave him more time to find the others, whose cell he had passed before being tied up and tortured by the raja himself, and release them. After running by, searching for their cells, Mr. Winston's heavy British accent became a cry for help.
"You! Mr. Jones! Help us out!" he shouted.
"Yes! I found you! We need to stop the raja right now!" Alfred said, picking their gate lock only to have it open within a matter of seconds before he began unlocking their iron cuffs.
"How did you get out? What were you chained to?" Matthew questioned as the nail wnet into his right cuff to unlock it. "Why is there blood on your shirt?"
"No time to explain! Let's go!" he said.
It took about ten minutes to free every one of his new friends, even Francis and Arthur, who were stuck in the same cell with Matthew, Ivan, Mr. Winston and Mr. Smith. Once they were all free, Mr. Smith discreetly pulled out a revolver from his coat pocket, rolling the bullet chamber and clicking the back, the familiar sound catching Alfred's attention.
"A gun? How did you manage to get that in here? Do you have extras?" he asked frantically.
"I always carry two in case," Mr. Winston said, opening his tan coat to reveal two firearms attached to his suspenders. At an instant, Alfred grabbed one, checking to see if it was loaded. I'm going to kill that raja, he thought, who does he think he is?
"Good," he said calmly, his rush building up against as he prompted the rest of the men to move along quickly to make it on time to the sacrifice.
As the men ran hastily, the floor in a sanctuary parted rapidly beneath their feet, and they all fell like ragdolls a couple tens of feet deep underneath the temple. It was very dark, and once everyone hit the rocky ground, groans and gasps emanated from their mouths as everyone expressed concern for one another.
"Wow! I did not see that one coming!" Alfred exclaimed. "Is everyone OK?"
"Sacre bleu!" Francis exclaimed. "It is filthy down here!"
"How the bloody hell will we get to the princess now?" Mr. Winston exclaimed, putting his gun in his pocket. "We're underground!"
A small beam of red light caught Arthur's eye, and it was right near the pile of rocks he had landed against. Staring at it curiously, he also heard a strange sound; one of chanting or reciting religious prayers. He looked back at the men, who fell silent, as they heard the noise as well. Frantically, Arthur and Alfred both moved rocks to get the out of the way, hoping it had some connection to their objective.
"I can hear it! Something's going on!" Arthur exclaimed, moving a boulder out of the way.
"It must be the sacrifice!" Alfred assumed. It took them fifteen minutes total to remove the rocks, but once they realized they were on solid ground and that there were people seen through the opening, they sank back a bit as they realized that they had reached their destination by the miraculous method of trap door.
Alfred, as well as the other men, looked at the inside in awe of the elaborate setting of the ritual in which Princess Amisha was to die. A large, wide fire burned fiercely, and several priests were lined up in an orderly fashion, chanting over and over again: "OM HRIM STRIM HUM PHAT!"A drummer struck a drum in between each repetition of the sacred words, and it was noticed that no one but Raja Kumar Chatur, in his finest ritual costume, stood with his praying hands facing the large, sacred fire burning ever so brightly in the middle of the underground lair.
"Wow," Alfred whispered inaudibly. "There's the raja who chained me to a wall."
"He what?" Arthur questioned.
"To a wall?" Matthew added.
"Yeah; my neck, my wrists and my ankles," Alfred responded in the silent whisper.
"How the bloody hell did you get out?" the Brit questioned.
"I'm really strong, Arthur, in case you haven't noticed. I just ripped myself out of the cuffs and turned to pull the chain attaching my neck out of the wall. Then I found a nail on the floor and I unlocked my neck cuff and then I unlocked the gate I like I did yours," Alfred explained.
"Break a rock, lad!" Mr. Winston commanded with a forceful whisper, handing him a small stone. Alfred took it into his palm, gripping it so tightly that it turned to granulated powder which he sprinkled on the dark-colored earth afterwards.
"Dear Lord, you're a strong lad," Mr. Winston said with awe. Suddenly, a loud voice from the lair called out in Hindi, but the men could not understand him.
"Listen here, loyal followers of temple Kālē Tārā Rakta! On this night, we fulfill a century-old prophesy!" The raja seemed to be yelling, trying to gain the enthusiasm of his followers as the chanting continued in the same monotone between single drum beats. "One filled with youth and everlasting life, we take into ourselves the essence of the goddess' incarnation here on Earth! We have found our jewel!"
Cheering from non-chanting followers filled the lair, the followers enthusiastic to get the chance at achieving youth and eternal life. Alfred and the men looked at each other, but it was when the raja raised his hand to order silence that they knew what he was talking about.
"Bring out the chosen one, Black Tara's incarnation!" the raja ordered in a booming, mighty voice as he gestured to a great, big closed door.
Noticing the followers direct their attention to it, two large men in ceremonial dress each held an arm of Princess Amisha, who was dressed in the black ensemble chosen for her as the door opened. Pleading for her life by screaming and sobbing, Alfred's eyes widened with deep fear to see her being dragged out against her will to be killed for an unrealistic belief. No, he thought, we must stop them!
"I can't let his happen!" Alfred whispered as the two men still handled his princess. "Let's teach them a lesson!"
"What are they going to do to her?" Mr. Smith asked with concern.
"How could someone be that stupid to kill something so beautiful like the princess?" Francis whined.
"We have guns, men!" Mr. Winston said noisily, clicking the chamber to load a few more bullets into it. "They have nothing, and the followers are most likely not going to harm us."
The seven men watched in awe as the princess was taken to where the raja was, and at an instant, another man was holding a set of chains linked to an unknown source.
"Release the tigers! Bring them here!" the raja ordered in the same booming voice. The man promptly walked the roaring tigers, and once they reached the perimeter of the large fire, he threw two pieces of fish into the fire, letting the chains go as they were lured to their burning death. As they were incinerated, the tigers roared loudly and distressingly, and once their animalistic cries were no longer heard, the raja grabbed the princess, holding her close to him. As she sobbed even heavier, the raja withdrew his dagger, and it only prompted Alfred and the rest of the men to come out from hiding to save her. Mr. Winston, Mr. Smith and he were the only ones with firearms, withdrawing them and running up to the raja.
"This is your goddess incarnate, Rajkumari Amisha Mani!" the raja boomed, holding her arm up to show his followers that they had acquired her. "She is your princess; you all love her so much because of her devotion to you! You are also drain to love her due to the holy blood we have yet to drain from her!"
"LET HER GO!" Alfred shouted, pointing his gun at the raja. Princess Amisha's face lit up upon seeing Alfred there.
"Alfred!" she exclaimed happily. When she tried running toward him, the raja held her by the hair, pulling it as her neck arched back and his dagger blade went to her throat.
"Don't you dare hurt her!" Mr. Winston ordered cruelly. "We will shoot!"
"We are having her blood for ourselves no matter what you imbeciles do," the raja sneered, the reflection from the fire glowing in his demonic black eyes. However, the princess began weeping silently as tears fell like rain from her eyes.
"Raja, please! You haven't a clue what you are doing!" Princess Amisha wailed.
"Hush, sacred one!" he ordered, covering her mouth with his large, dark hand.
As the princess screams were muffled, the raja's free hand took her other wrist, holding it tightly as his blade dug deep into it, drawing out the holy, youth-providing substance he was yearning for. Feeling the blade rip into her flesh, she started screaming as she felt the raja's mouth suck her blood from the wound. His eyes were closed, sucking out the fabled age-defying substance as he savored every moment. Within minutes she grew dizzy from the blood loss and collapsed on the stone floor beneath her feet. Alfred, infuriated by the sight of the raja with her blood in his proud, psychotic smile, he aimed for his leg and shot him, the bullet causing him to collapse himself. His dagger, however, flew in the air, prompting Ivan to grab it and hold it for his own self-defense.
"Amisha!" the American exclaimed, running over to her lifeless body and holding her. Her neck fell back over his arm, and Alfred's hand caressed her beautiful face gently to make sure she was conscious. Her eyes opened slowly, looking up at him weakly. He then looked at the wrist Raja Kumar Chatur had cut and sucked the blood out of—the wound was a bit deep, and it was across her wrist, but there were no more signs of bleeding, which worried him deeply.
"Amisha! Please! Princess, please! Stay with me! I love you! Don't die on me!" he pleaded frantically. "We're going to get you out of here! Trust me! Stay alive!"
"Alfred," she moaned lethargically. "I'll be…fine. Just…do what you have to."
"Oh, my princess," he said, standing up to carry her over his shoulder. One he got a firm grip on her form, he prompted the men to run toward the large door.
"RUN!" he said.
Before they could even get past the other priests, they blocked them, but Ivan, who was also armed along with Alfred, Mr. Winston and Mr. Smith, fatally wounded many of them with the raja's knife. Ivan was just as tall, but his natural tendency to go psycho on people gave him the best advantage over the raja's priests. Mr. Winston and Mr. Smith also helped out, shooting dead anybody who tried getting in their way or anybody Ivan couldn't kill by himself.
The door opened to a long, seemingly endless hallway, where Alfred, running with the princess on his shoulders and a gun in his free hand, led the men down. Arthur and Matthew looked back, noticing them running after them. Alfred, looking ahead, saw another door, and he opened it, leading himself and the men out into the early morning darkness.