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The Seven Swords of Diya: An Indiana Jones Fan Fiction Part 1

Fanfiction

Indiana Jones and his daughter Emily Ravenwood Jones are back in action! Seven missing Japanese swords which may have the power to open hell, unleashing monsters upon the earth are their quest. Along with them is a hotshot pilot who got his career s...

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Chapter 122: Edo's Camp, Kamchatka Wilderness, Soviet Russia, 1960

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by A_R_Mitchell

by A_R_Mitchell

Edo's Camp

Kamchatka Wilderness

Soviet Russia

1960

There was a screech from the darkness. "Nyiet!"

Edo's eyes flickered like a snake. "Shamaness Lizavet, you have returned... with..." he stared at Shorty. "Who are you?"

The apkallu formed a dark swarm.

Indy shut his eyes, seeing the Temple of Doom, knowing from Shorty's expression he was having the memories show up too. "Hold it together, kid. Hold it together Shorty."

Shorty gave a shout. "Indy!"

"Right here, son! Right here! Remember what I taught you!"

"Indy! Dad! I love you!" Shorty stared at Indy, blinking back memories of the Temple of Doom, realizing that, this time, he couldn't rescue Indy.

Edo and the knowing ones smiled among themselves, the corrupt council convening for a human sacrifice.

"No!" Lizavet's voice shattered the growing darkness. Edo's ninjas shoved her and Shorty forward.

She glared, seeing everything, in multiple realms and memories. "You may kill us all, but the monsters you seek are imprisoned forever!"

Her eyes lit on Edo and seemed to suddenly glow. "And you will join them! I have seen it. You will die by the sword of this man!"

Lizavet pointed with her shoulder to Indy.

Edo laughed. "He won't be coming with us. His anger is too much for him and he'll eventually get so furious he'll break the obsidian and plunge through the ancient lava dome to his death."

Edo translated his words into Japanese. The ninjas laughed.

"Especially," he switched back to English. "If I slowly slaughter his precious daughter..."

Indy's fury almost broke the obsidian lava dome, as he struggled to gain footing. Obsidian is a form of glass and his boots held no traction against it - the hobnails scraping and weakening the thin surface with his every effort to escape.

"She'll struggle well," one of the apkallu whispered into his ear.