"Ahh!" Princess Amisha exclaimed, her body bouncing on Alfred's shoulder as he ran carrying her into the fading darkness of night. Now, it was closer to sunrise than the men and the princess thought, but nevertheless, it was still dark outside and much more dangerous—the odds of at least one being killed were much higher.
"Don't worry! Who has a light?" Alfred asked his men.
"I have a cigarette lighter," Mr. Smith said, taking it from his pocket to flick the flame up. It wasn't very bright, but it was quite a problem whenever the breeze from running blew it out.
"Damn you, lighter!" the Englishman said as they were approaching a rope-and-plank bridge over a craggily cliff connecting to another. Suddenly, Alfred, the princess, Arthur, Francis, Ivan, Matthew and the older English gentlemen saw a faint torch light in the distance across the rope bridge. Standing on the other side of the bridge was the raja, standing up straight as if nothing happened.
"Black Tara! Your essence healed me!" he shouted in Sanskrit as though he were in a trance. Alfred took the princess off his shoulder and set her on her feet, holding her close and tightly to his person as he pointed the gun at the other side of the bridge.
"No, raja! The end is now!" Alfred shouted back. "You will never hurt another human being again, and your cult will be history!"
"No! YOU WILL BE HISTORY!" Raja Kumar Chatur roared insanely. "YOU HAVE STOLEN THE BEARER OF OUR JEWEL! GIVE HER TO ME NOW!"
"NO! We will not, you foul mongrel!" Mr. Winston snapped.
On the other side of the bridge, Raja Kumar Chatur was growing impatient, and in an instant, he ordered his men to rush to the other side in order to kill the men and recapture the princess. As she saw his priests running, Princess Amisha's blue eyes grew apprehended, watching as they began their attack.
"No!" she whined, burying her face in Alfred's shoulder. He held her tightly, whispering in her ear gently.
"Princess, go hide somewhere," he ordered.
"But what if you are killed?" she asked with deep concern. "What if I am taken again?"
"Don't worry, I'll fight for you," Alfred said, caressing her face. "I love you, Amisha." She smiled up at him sadly with worry. He is now calling me by my common name, she thought, no one has ever addressed me like that before unless it was a relative.
Just after she ran off, Alfred was being charged at by two armed priests with scimitars in their hands, blowing and slashing at his form with no prevail in injuring him. Alfred moved and swayed, ducked and jumped to dodge their attacks, and he put his gun to use, killing them each with a single bullet. He looked back to try spotting the princess, who was well-concealed behind a tree and a few thick shrubs. Relieved she was safe, he kept fighting as the other went about their share of the ambush.
Mr. Winston and Mr. Smith both fired their guns, aiming at the attackers. Arthur and Francis fist-fought with a few of them, beating them severely. Ivan, however, after killing a few of the raja's men, had the audacity to face the Raja Kumar Chatur himself.
"Haha, it's you. You honestly think you will kill me with my own knife?" he chuckled sinisterly.
In a fit of psychotic rage, the Russian felt his heart race and his grip on the dagger's handle. As he charged at him, the raja knew he was in big trouble—either he was meeting his match with death or he was going to severely hurt him; either way, he felt genuine fear for the first time in his life as Ivan began muttering senseless words.
"Kol-kol-kol-kol-kol-kol-kol…kol-kol-kol-kol-kol-k ol!" the Russian chanted, working himself into a violent trance.
"What is wrong with you?" the raja asked, confused by his behavior.
Raising the knife as high a he could, he stabbed him the chest so roughly that blood spurted everywhere. The raja screamed in extreme agony, but before he could fall to his knees, Ivan pushed him over the edge of the cliff, sending him to his death on the rough, rocky terrain below. Raja Kumar Chatur was now dead.
"До тех пор, мудак," Ivan said as he waved to the raja's falling body. "I feel so much better already!" Noticing the Russian standing near the cliff, everybody stopped fighting and looked at him curiously, both the men and the remainder of the raja's followers alike walked over to see what had happened.
"Dude, what just happened?" Alfred asked. "Did you kill the raja?"
"Yes, I did," Ivan confessed, looking back at the followers who immediately knew what was going on. "I stabbed him so hard and then I pushed him to his death."
Suddenly, an uproar of happiness among the surviving former followers of the evil prince and priest. Everybody hugged each other, which confused both the men and the princess, who slowly emerged from hiding upon hearing Alfred's loud voice.
"At last we are free!" a follower said in Hindi. "No more ghastly rituals!"
"No more being in a dark trance!" another said.
"We nearly killed our princess!" a third follower said. "We must make amends immediately!"
Princess Amisha came out of hiding as the morning sun began to rise. Luckily, her wrist had stopped bleeding, and she was overjoyed that the evil raja was no more. She walked slowly to the group of men, but she was delayed by the former followers of Raja Kumar Chatur bowing before her feet as if she really were the goddess the raja claimed her to be.
"Our great rajkumari, we are deeply sorry for trying to harm you and for attempting to sacrifice you to the dark spirit of Black Tara!" one of them said, tears flowing from his eyes as his Hindi sounded cracked. "We hope you forgive us, for we love you just as much as all of India does."
"The black trance made us forget who we were. We were good Indian people, devoted Hindus, but we were mislead by promises of spiritual renewal!" one of them added. "Please forgive us! Spare us the punishment!"
"Men, it is not up to me whether you are punished for this awful deed," the princess replied in the same tongue. "It would be up to my father and the Order of the British Empire to determine your fates. However, due to the notion that I should not blame the followers for one cruel royal and priest, I believe it is in my best interest to forgive any of you survivors from the attack just now. I can see the death of your leader has snapped you out of your trance."
The followers looked up at the princess inquisitively, then their feelings turned to amazement when they saw the sun rise gradually behind her, illuminating all her glory as not a black, but white goddess. That would be, of course, if she were actually divine.
"Thank you, rajkumari!" everyone said with deep gratitude before they walked off into the mysterious, newly-sunlit wilderness. Alfred approached the princess, who watched them go off into the trees, and he spoke softly.
"Princess," he whispered. At an instant, Princess Amisha turned around and threw her arms around him, crying tears of joy as he returned the hug, inhaling her sweet fragrance as he smiled ecstatically—he once thought they would never embrace, kiss, or even make love again, but he was relieved to be back in her arms.
"You saved my life!" she exclaimed. "I owe you so much!"
"I was only being a hero," Alfred said, loosening his grip to look down into her eyes. He caressed her face gently and kissed her as he held her close, twirling her around as if it were their first kiss. Their heart beat in unison, and they stopped to look into each other's eyes. The princess also diverted her attention to the other men, and smiled at them all with deep gratitude.
"Thank you all so much," the princess said sincerely. "Without you, I would not even be in the arms of the man I love right now."
"You are very welcome, Your Highness," Mr. Smith said. "First, we must get you home to Delhi!"
Following the older Englishman lead the way, Alfred and Princess Amisha's hands interlocked with each others, not letting each other go for the whole journey. Little did they know how the Maharaja would react to the sight of his daughter entering the palace with her seven heroes…