Cassie darted him a pitying look. “If it didn’t, we wouldn’t have beat you to Lion Mountain.”
Daniel raised his hands in surrender. “I withdraw the objection.”
They all redirected their attention to the screen.
Cassie’s hand hovered over the map. She closed her eyes briefly to concentrate. When she opened them, her index finger slid over the southern edge of the man-made lake. “Show me what’s here.”
Griffin did as instructed. “The entire area seems to consist of mountain ranges inside national parks.”
“Enlarge this section a little more.” She tapped the screen. “Guys, I know we’re on the right track now. I’m feeling a really strong pull around these mountains.”
The Scrivener magnified the screen further but, given the remote location, the map revealed few details other than green blots indicating various peaks.
“This! Right here!” Cassie touched a particular label.
Olga read the caption. “‘Ahkka Mountain’.”
“Let’s look it up.” Griffin typed in a search string. He took one glance at the description then turned to Cassie excitedly. “You’ve done it! This has to be the place.”
Daniel leaned over his shoulder to read. “‘Ahkka Mountain is revered by the indigenous people of northern Scandinavia as the abode of their creation goddess.’” He gasped. “Cassie, I think you may have found it.”
“Griffin and I found it.” She gave the Scrivener a quick hug. “Pack your bags, Daniel. Next stop, Sweden.”
Chapter 35—Do Not Open Til Doomsday
Joshua looked up from his computer monitor when his lieutenant entered the spymaster’s office.
The man placed a cardboard box on his desk. “Sir, these are for you.”
The spymaster paused to scrutinize his visitor. Brother Matthew, his second-in-command, was staring impassively at the wall behind Joshua’s head. He was of medium height and build, the same age and dark complexion as Joshua himself but with one material difference. Matthew lacked curiosity. Not that he wasn’t intelligent. Far from it. It was just that his mental abilities were dedicated to efficiently executing orders given by his superiors. Perhaps that was a good thing. Joshua didn’t need anyone in the Order of Argus second-guessing his decisions.
He stood to open the box and inspect its contents—a dozen bright green metal water bottles. He withdrew one and stared at it with deep concern.
Brother Matthew anticipated his unspoken question. “The Diviner says that these are to be distributed to the chosen men in the field.”
The chosen men were one hundred and fifty Argus agents from compounds around the world. Three at each location. Matthew had assisted Joshua in informing the men that they had been hand-picked to carry out a secret mission. Per the Diviner’s orders, they had all been vaccinated against some mysterious illness the Fallen supposedly carried. Joshua found this explanation suspicious. He had traveled freely in the Fallen lands for quite some time without contracting any disease. The fact that he was being given specious excuses by his father proved that the Diviner no longer trusted Joshua. The spymaster was now as much in the dark as anybody else when it came to the prophet’s plans. The idea distressed him considerably. Losing Abraham’s trust meant that he had lost the power to influence his father, and with it, the chance to supplant Daniel as Scion.
“So, Brother Matthew. My father is now communicating his orders to you instead of to me,” he observed coldly.
Matthew’s face remained expressionless. “It was simply a matter of convenience, sir. He knows I’m assisting you with this mission. I’m sure no slight was intended. He had called me into his office to review last night’s security reports and the box was sitting on his desk, that’s all.”
Joshua stiffened at this news. In the past, questions about compound security had always been directed to the spymaster. He was now being bypassed in that role as well. “In future, you are to inform me of any conversation you have with the Diviner. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Brother Matthew seemed mildly alarmed.
“If he so much as asks you if it’s raining outside, you will tell me. Is that clear?”
The lieutenant gulped and nodded. “Quite clear, sir.”
Joshua relaxed and resumed his seat. He gestured toward the visitor chair, indicating that Matthew should sit down as well. Then he pushed the mysterious green bottle across the desk toward his lieutenant. “What do you make of it?”
“I... uh. Nothing, sir. I don’t make anything of it. We’ve been instructed to distribute one bottle to each chosen man. More bottles will arrive as they become available and we’re to ship them off right away. The Diviner insisted that the bottles are not to be opened by anyone until he gives an express command to do so. Apparently, the contents are quite dangerous.”
The spymaster stared fixedly at the metal container. “My father once told me that our chosen men were to act as emissaries to carry a message to the Fallen world. I can only assume his message is contained in these volatile water bottles.”
“If you say so, sir.” Matthew’s tone was noncommittal.
“And that bit of information doesn’t trouble you?”
Matthew appeared downright baffled. “I’m sure the Diviner has a good reason for everything he does.”
Joshua conceded the futility of coaxing a speculative idea from his second-in-command. “That’s all for now. You’re dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” Matthew rose and let himself out.
Joshua rubbed his forehead distractedly. Even before Matthew’s arrival he had been worried about his eroding position. Now he was positively paranoid. What did these bottles contain? Bombs? Some sort of biological weapon? The vaccinations of his men would suggest the latter. In either case, his father’s lethal message to the Fallen might ignite a war and Joshua no longer had enough influence to steer the Diviner away from such a mad course of action. His ambition to succeed his father seemed pointless if the Diviner antagonized the Fallen to such a degree that they retaliated by destroying the Nephilim altogether. Even if Joshua survived such a scenario, he would be left to rule over a kingdom of corpses.
Now, more than ever, he needed a plan to win back his father’s approval—a way to get Abraham to trust him and confide in him again. He cast about desperately in his mind for a solution but his options were severely limited. No matter which alternative he considered, each one led back to the same conclusion. There was only one way to turn the tide in his favor. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Joshua steeled himself to embark on the most desperate measure of all.
Chapter 36—The Polar Bear
Daniel, Cassie and Griffin claimed their bags from the carousal in the one-runway airport at Gallivare. They were now in the rustic wilds of Sweden’s northernmost county. Getting to this out-of-the-way place had taken some effort. First, they’d spent an entire day retracing their steps from Olkhon Island to the airport in Irkutsk. From there, they caught a nine-hour flight to St. Petersburg. The next leg of their journey involved a five-hour plane ride to Lulea, Sweden. After that, a forty-five minute flight brought them to their final destination. They had chosen to make Gallivare their base of operations because of its proximity to the headwaters of the Lule River at the southern tip of Lake Akkajaure. As the largest town in the area, Gallivare and its environs boasted a total population of twenty thousand people which meant it was able to provide the comforts of civilization despite its remote location.
After exiting the small airport terminal, the trio stood uncertainly by the curb.
Griffin scanned the parking lot. “The Lule Saami trove-keeper said she would send someone to meet us and act as our guide.”
“Hello! Hello!” A booming voice called out from the other end of the lot.
“Oh, dear,” the Scrivener whispered. “It’s Lars.”
Cassie and Daniel gawked at the giant creature lumbering toward them.
“Be warned,” Griffin cautioned
them. “He’s a hugger.”
“He’s a what?” Cassie’s question went unanswered as their new guide strode up and engulfed Griffin in an embrace which nearly lifted him off his feet.
“Welcome, Chief Scrivener, welcome. I see I got here just in time.” The man’s accent bore a typical Swedish lilt and his J’s sounded like Y’s. “How have you been?”
It took several seconds for Griffin to reply since the man’s enthusiastic greeting had knocked the wind out of him and ruffled his Anglo-Saxon reserve. After catching his breath, he said, “I’m fine, Lars. Thank you. Let me introduce my associates. Lars Gustafsson, this is Daniel Metcalf.”
“Hello, Mister Daniel. Welcome!” The guide crushed Daniel in a bear hug which made him squeak involuntarily.
Releasing him, Lars turned to Cassie. “And you!”
“Me what?” the Pythia asked warily, taking a step backwards.
“I already know who you are!” Lars lifted her up and held her at arm’s length as easily as if she were a toddler. Then he planted a kiss on either cheek. “Lady Pythia, I am delighted to meet you in person!”
He set her back gently on the ground.
“Wow, that was some greeting.” Cassie swayed slightly, trying to get her balance. “You must get a kickback from the Swedish Tourist Bureau. And, by the way, the name is Cassie.”
“No, no.” The guide shook his head emphatically. “You are honored guests in my country and deserve great respect. You will always be the Lady Pythia, and Chief Scrivener, and Mister Daniel to me.”
“Then what should we call you?” Cassie asked.
“Lars,” he replied simply. He beamed at them all, his blue eyes twinkling with good humor. Their guide appeared to be about thirty. His hair was bright red as was his beard. The fact that both were trimmed short was a blessing since the effect of a long flaming mane and flowing beard might have been overpowering. As it was, he stood six-and-a-half feet tall with a thick neck and a broad physique that an offensive lineman for the Chicago Bears might have envied.
“Welcome to Gallivare!” He spread his arms wide as if he were presenting the entire city to his visitors.
“We’re very happy to be here,” Griffin responded politely. “I understand you’re to take us to our hotel?”
The words were barely out of the Scrivener’s mouth before Lars scooped all their luggage up into his arms and trundled off to a minivan parked in the back row of the tiny lot.
The other three trailed in his wake.
“I thought all Scandinavians were supposed to be introverted and gloomy,” Cassie commented under her breath.
“Maybe he didn’t get the memo,” Daniel said.
Cassie and Griffin stopped dead in their tracks to stare at the Scion.
“Daniel, did you just make a joke?” the Pythia asked in disbelief.
The Scion appeared startled. “I think I did.” A slow smile spread over his features. “It felt good.”
“There may be hope for you after all,” Griffin observed dryly.
The trio resumed their stroll to the vehicle.
“Get in everybody, get in,” Lars prompted. He’d already shrugged off the burden of their baggage into the cargo area.
The travelers obediently climbed inside and they were off.
Since the airport was located only four miles from the center of town, their ride was a short one. Lars took them immediately to their inn—a boxy modern structure indistinguishable from any chain hotel in the United States. Without hesitation, their guide steered the van up to the front door and switched off the engine. Before his passengers even had time to exit, he managed to grab all the luggage, carry it inside, and dump it in front of the reception desk.
“He’s certainly got a lot of energy,” Daniel said.
The bemused trio caught up with him at the counter.
While they were completing the check-in process, Cassie eyed a clock on the wall behind the clerk. The local time read seven in the evening but the sun’s strong rays made it feel like noon. “It can’t be that late already,” she said.
“You must remember we’re in the circumpolar region here,” Griffin informed her. “At this time of year, the sun never sets.”
“Never?” Daniel’s eyes grew wide with surprise.
“Oh, at midnight the sun drops a little in the sky,” Lars chimed in. “Then it looks like sunset... Or maybe sunrise, because it is both.”
“And I thought jetlag was disorienting.” Cassie’s tone was rueful.
“You will adjust.” Lars gave her a hearty thump on the back that made her stagger. “It is harder to be here in the winter.”
“You mean there’s no sun at all then?” The Scion couldn’t hide his amazement.
“Just a little bit,” the guide hedged. “In late December, we get maybe an hour of light.”
“Yikes, I’d want to kill myself!” the Pythia exclaimed.
“That is only because you come from someplace else,” Lars told her solemnly. “We are used to it.”
“Darkness 24/7 isn’t something I’d ever want to get used to,” Cassie muttered in a soft voice.
Once the visitors had completed their registration, they went to their respective rooms to unpack. Fifteen minutes later, the trio returned to meet Lars for a meal in the downstairs restaurant.
“This hotel has a very good dinner buffet every night,” the guide informed them as they were being seated by the hostess. He gestured to a long table at the opposite end of the room piled high with appetizers, salads, entrees and desserts.
“That’s quite a smorgasbord,” Cassie observed.
Lars seemed puzzled by her choice of words. “That is what I said—a buffet.”
The dining room wasn’t crowded despite the fact that summer was peak tourist season for campers, hikers, and anglers in the area. Only two other tables were occupied.
A waiter arrived to take their beverage order. At Lars’ suggestion everyone opted to try a Swedish craft beer. While the waiter retreated to the bar to fetch their drinks, they helped themselves to the buffet.
Cassie found many of the dishes familiar but she turned to Lars for an explanation of items she couldn’t identify. “What’s this?” She pointed to chunks of fish in a briny sauce.
“That is pickled herring. You eat it for an appetizer. You must try some though it is not as good as surstromming.”
“Surstromming?” Daniel repeated.
“Yes, that is fermented Baltic herring. It is traditional to open a jar in August. It tastes very good but the smell...” He clamped his fingers over his nose. “Some people say it smells like what you flush down the toilet.”
“Yeesh!” Cassie shuddered. “I’m glad we aren’t here in August when people are waving around open herring jars.” She moved down the buffet table to check out its main course selections. She found roast beef, meatballs in brown sauce, and several kinds of sausage presumably made from pork. She paused in front of a bubbling pot of broth.
“That is reindeer stew,” Lars said. “It is a traditional Saami dish.”
“The Saami are reindeer herders so I would imagine many of their recipes contain reindeer meat,” Griffin commented.
Cassie ladled some of the thick concoction onto her plate. Daniel did the same.
“Why is there a bowl of jam next to the meats?” the Scion asked.
“Lingonberry preserves,” the guide told him. “We like to eat it with many different foods.”
“It’s similar to the way cranberry sauce is served with turkey,” Griffin said. “Or mint jelly with lamb.”
Daniel put a tiny spoonful on his plate.
They were next presented with a number of different potato items including dumplings, potato pancakes and whole potatoes stuffed with bacon. After that came several vegetable side dishes. The buffet offerings ended with a separate table covered entirely with pastries, cakes, and puddings.
“That’s a lot of sweet stuff,” Cassie commented.
“Dess
ert is the favorite part of the meal in Scandinavia,” Lars said.
“Let me see if I can get through the main course before I commit,” the Pythia demurred, carrying her plate back to their dining table.
The others joined her a few moments later. Lars bore two dinner plates piled high with a sampling of everything.
“It is important to eat enough to keep up the strength,” their guide declared as he sat down.
By this time, their drinks had arrived. While the visitors sipped their beer, Lars immediately began attacking his dinner. The trio watched in rapt fascination at how quickly food disappeared from his plate.
They all ate and drank in silence for several minutes until Lars had cleaned his first plate and apparently decided to take a breather. Sitting back and folding his arms, he studied his guests. “I am so happy to have the task of assisting you. Usually, I talk to nothing but rocks.” He grinned at his own joke.
Daniel squinted at him. “What do you mean?”
“I study the rock art of the Saami. Some of it is very ancient—thousands of years old but it is not very lively.”
“I’ve never heard of the Saami before tonight,” the Scion said. “I thought Norsemen were the original inhabitants of Scandinavia.”
“Hah!” Lars barked. “The Norse tribes are overlords. They took over the southern land and pushed the native people all the way up here.”
“Oh,” Daniel said in a small voice, obviously realizing he’d once again stirred up controversy by citing his beloved library books. “Then where did the Norse tribes come from if not from Scandinavia?”
“The same place as most other overlord tribes,” the Scrivener interjected. “DNA evidence traces their origins to the Eurasian steppes. They didn’t arrive in this part of the world until 3000 BCE.”
“Before that everything was different,” Lars said. “In the beginning, there were the gatherer-hunters and the herders like the Saami. Then when the glaciers melted the farmers migrated here. They grew crops and kept dairy cattle. Everybody got along together. The farmers stayed in the south where they could grow things and the Saami moved back and forth to graze the reindeer herds. They traded with each other.” His face darkened. “Then the overlords came from across the sea. They were called the ‘Battle-Axe Culture’. They killed the farmers or forced them to work the land as peasants. Their story is set down in the war of the gods.”
The Sage Stone Prophecy (Arkana Archaeology Adventure Series Book 7) Page 21
