The Arkana Mysteries Boxed Set

by N. S. Wikarski

  He shook his head, still intent on the pictures. “Sorry, but I haven’t a clue what they mean.”

  “You will try though, won’t you?” she urged.

  Griffin looked up and stared at Faye, bringing his mind back into focus. “Oh, absolutely! This is quite exciting, isn’t it? We had no idea what object Sybil was recovering, and here we sit with photographs of it.” He scowled for a moment. “By the bye, how do you come to have these?”

  “Cassie brought them with her when she visited me.” Faye sounded troubled.

  The young man took note. “Didn’t your talk go well?”

  “It went very well. During the course of the afternoon, I discovered that she is our new pythia.”

  “What!”

  Griffin’s exclamation was so loud that Faye winced. “Please, dear, keep your voice down. We do belong to a secret society, after all.”

  The young man overcompensated by lowering his voice to a whisper. “But this is incredible, Faye! This is beyond coincidence! If I believed in such things, I would call it a miracle.”

  Faye sighed. “It is certainly a stroke of good fortune for us, but Cassie is having some trouble coming to terms with it.”

  Griffin’s face took on a look of owlish concern. “You mean she doesn’t want to be the pythia?” He sounded as if he could barely comprehend such a possibility.

  “I think she needs time to accept her new role. I do believe that she’ll come around in the end.”

  “But what if she doesn’t?” Griffin’s tone was anxious. “What are we to do then?”

  Faye remained serene. “I am quite confident she will reconsider. After all, we are the only people who can give her the answers she seeks about her sister’s death. I expect her to realize that soon enough.” She picked up the page with random numbers scribbled across it and pushed it toward him. “Cassie thinks these are the dimensions of the object in the photographs.”

  The young man took the page and puzzled over it for a few moments. “Dimensions, but why—”

  Faye cut in. “I think Sybil wanted us to build a replica in case we no longer had the original.”

  “But why should we want a replica?” Griffin was mystified.

  The old woman picked up one of the photos and contemplated it. “Cassie gave me a hint when she talked about our elusive cowboy. She had a dream in which she saw the encounter in the antique shop. She said he wanted Sybil to tell him where the key was. When he ransacked her apartment, he took only this stone ruler. I would assume it is some kind of key. In order for us to know what it unlocks, we would need an exact copy. Do you think you could make one using the measurements I’ve given you?”

  The young man became pensive. “I can’t do it myself, of course, but I think there are a few chaps at the vault who may have the necessary skills. I’ll get in touch with them first thing tomorrow.”

  Faye took another sip of coffee. She chose her next words carefully. “I believe building this replica should be your top priority.”

  “Well, of course,” Griffin readily agreed. “It’s quite a fascinating puzzle, isn’t it?”

  “It’s more than that,” Faye countered in a low voice. “It may have something to do with the Sage Stone.”

  “What!” Griffin half rose out of his chair at the mention of those words.

  This time a few curious people on the lower level glanced upward toward the loft.

  Faye raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

  “Very sorry.” Griffin cleared his throat uncomfortably and resettled himself. He leaned in closer across the table. “How can you be sure this object is connected to…” he trailed off as if afraid to utter the words.

  “I can’t be sure. Simply an offhanded comment Sybil made several months ago. She said she was on the trail of ‘the find of the century.’ Since I hear that phrase from field operatives almost every week, I didn’t pay much attention. Until now. I believe she may have been right. We need to be certain before I alarm anyone else, so you’ll have to proceed with the utmost secrecy.”

  “You haven’t even told Maddie?”

  “No, and I won’t until we know what we’re dealing with.” Faye sighed. “For the time being, I want a semblance of normality to prevail. Especially when it comes Cassie. She shouldn’t be pulled into this maelstrom unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”

  “But Faye,” the young man protested. “I’m a terrible liar!”

  “I’m not asking you to lie, my dear. I’m asking you to avoid the topic with your colleagues and refrain from mentioning it to the girl altogether. As an added precaution, I think it would be wise to accelerate the training of our new pythia if, and when, she agrees to join us. Poor child! She’ll have only weeks to learn what it took Sybil years to master.”

  Griffin lowered his head in acquiescence.

  Faye glanced down at the photo of the key resting next to her coffee cup. “One person has already died because of this object. If this key can somehow lead the Nephilim to the Sage Stone, then one death will be only the beginning.”

  Chapter 15 – Paranormal Antiquity

  Two weeks after she fled the place in terror, Cassie found herself standing on Faye’s front porch once again. Somehow, she had talked herself around to this spot despite her misgivings. She knocked on the door.

  After a few moments, Faye appeared. She was wearing a kitchen apron. Her cheeks and forearms were streaked with flour. When she saw who her visitor was, a perceptive smile crossed her face. “Come in, my dear, come in. I’ve just popped a few loaves of bread into the oven. They won’t be ready for a while, but I can fix you a sandwich if you’re hungry.”

  The girl entered the house hesitantly. “No, thanks. I just want to talk. There’s a lot I need to say.”

  “Why don’t we go out into the garden then,” Faye suggested.

  Cassie nodded and followed the old woman to the yard. By now, leaves had formed around the wisteria blossoms, and tulips and daffodils were starting to join the ranks of early spring flowers. It was a little cooler and more overcast than their last visit but still warm enough to be pleasant.

  The girl hesitated before seating herself. It was the same chair she’d sat in when her brain collapsed into somebody else’s consciousness. It wasn’t a happy association. She braced herself and sat down.

  Faye took the opposite chair. She wasn’t hiding any mystic bowls in the shrubs this time, Cassie noted with relief.

  “I guess I ought to start,” the girl began abruptly. “I’m sorry about the way I acted last time I was here.”

  Faye chuckled. “No harm done, my dear. Now, what is it you’d like to talk about?”

  “This pythia business. I need to find out more about it.”

  “Then you don’t know what a pythia is?” Faye didn’t sound entirely surprised.

  Cassie shook her head.

  “Wait here, and I’ll show you a picture.” The old woman shuffled back inside the house. It was several minutes before she emerged with a book. She placed it on the table between them and flipped to a page that had been tabbed. “Look,” she instructed.

  Cassie leaned over and gasped. The page contained an illustration showing a cup decorated with two figures dressed in ancient Greek costume. The first was a woman in white seated on a high stool. She held a shallow bowl in one hand and a laurel branch in the other. The second figure was a man in a toga who stood facing her. “That’s…that’s…” Cassie stammered.

  “Yes, dear. That’s the woman you saw in your vision, isn’t it?” Faye didn’t seem to find Cassie’s revelation startling.

  “But how…” The girl was still at a loss.

  “Let me explain.” Faye settled back in her chair. “Around 3000 BCE, on the slopes of Mount Parnassus in what is now Greece, there was a place called Pytho. At this place stood a temple dedicated to the great mother goddess. The goddess was known by many names throughout the ancient world, but she was always worshi
pped by the people as their principal deity. They used the word Goddess with a capital G to describe her the way we use the word God. Up until quite recently, you see, most people thought that the creator of the universe was female.

  “Beneath the temple at Pytho was an underground cave which the people of the region believed to be the center of the universe. This cave housed a round stone called the omphalos. The word ‘omphalos’ means navel, and it was called that because the stone was considered to be the navel of the world. It was guarded by a great serpent named Python. Contrary to what you might expect, Python was female. She was the daughter of the great goddess, and she protected both the omphalos and the oracle who dwelt at her temple. This oracle was known far and wide because of the accuracy of her predictions. She was called the pythia.

  “This state of affairs continued for many centuries, but around 2200 BCE the area began to change. Do you remember those outcast tribes I told you about last time you were here?”

  Cassie gave her a quizzical look. “You mean the tribes who morphed into professional pillagers?”

  “Yes, quite so,” affirmed Faye. “Those tribes had figured out how to domesticate the horse and use it for warfare. They were able to expand their range of conquest, and many of them moved away from their harsh homeland. Some began migrating into Europe, down through the Balkans and on into Greece. The tribes that reached Greece were called Hellenes, and they displaced the original inhabitants who were known as Pelasgians. The transformation took a long time to accomplish. Over fifteen hundred years passed during which the Hellenes fought amongst themselves vying for more land. At some point during their perpetual power struggles, they invaded Pytho. They claimed the temple of the great goddess for themselves and rewrote the history of the place. Instead of a site to honor the goddess, the invaders said it was a site to honor their god Apollo.”

  “Isn’t that the Greek sun god?” asked Cassie.

  Faye nodded. “I see you know a little classical mythology. According to the Hellenes, the god Apollo fought a great battle and defeated the serpent Python. When Apollo killed Python, he threw her body into a chasm in the ground. The rotting corpse emitted fumes up through a crack in the earth. In fact, the word Python derives from the Greek verb pythein which means ‘to rot.’”

  Cassie felt keen interest at those words. “That was the smoke I saw coming up through the cave floor. It made me dizzy to breathe it.”

  “That’s right,” the old woman agreed. “Recent geological studies have shown that the crack in the earth at that spot may have emitted some kind of noxious gas. It might have been methane, or carbon dioxide, or even hydrogen sulfide which would have smelled like rotten eggs. At close quarters, the fumes would probably have been hallucinogenic, and these may be responsible for the strange visions the prophetess received. It was said that the air in the cavern shortened her lifespan. Once a pythia died another would rise to take her place.”

  “Just like Sybil and me,” Cassie observed quietly.

  Faye’s face held a troubled expression. “No one expected it to be you, child.”

  “Go on. Tell me the rest of the story.” The girl’s voice was flat. “What happened after Apollo killed the serpent.”

  The old woman complied. “Although Apollo and the Hellenes could do away with Python, it was much harder to get rid of the pythia. Her fame was so great in the region that the Pelasgians would have rebelled if she disappeared. The invaders had no choice but to incorporate her into their new myth. She remained at the temple which was now dedicated to the worship of the sun god. The location was no longer called Pytho but Delphi which is derived from the Greek word for “womb.” A distant reminder of the mother goddess whose home it had been before Apollo arrived. The pythia became known as the Oracle of Delphi.”

  “That’s a name I’ve heard of.” Cassie registered surprise. “She was supposed to be the most famous oracle in the ancient world. People would come from all around the Mediterranean to have her tell their fortunes. That is if you believe in that sort of thing. Nobody important made a move without consulting the oracle first.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Faye agreed. “Her influence in classical Greece continued from about 700 BCE until 395 CE when the Roman emperor ordered her temple to be officially closed. It was no small achievement for a woman’s words to have such power in the overlord cultures of the ancient world.”

  “Overlord cultures?” Cassie asked. She had never heard the expression before.

  “It’s our term for the rootless tribes who wandered the earth and grew powerful by waging wars of aggression. Their entire way of life depended on exploitation and tyranny, so we call them overlord cultures.”

  “What’s this ancient pythia got to do with me?”

  “Ah,” Faye smiled. “We’ve come to the point at last.”

  At that moment a distant beeping sound could be heard from inside the house. “Oh my, that’s the timer for my bread.” Faye hastily struggled to her feet. “I think we should continue this discussion inside.”

  ***

  Cassie watched as Faye turned out the loaves onto cooling racks. The aroma was heavenly. She’d never seen a real homemade loaf of bread being baked before. Sybil and her hired housekeepers hadn’t been much for cooking. The closest they ever came to homemade was dough from a can.

  Because Faye had persuaded Cassie to eat something, the girl now sat at the table in front of an array of raw vegetables, dip, potato chips and a tall glass of iced tea. Faye was stirring around the kitchen and putting her baking supplies away.

  “You were starting to talk about how the pythia legend applies to me?” Cassie prompted.

  “Oh yes, quite right.” Faye stowed a bag of flour in one of the overhead cabinets. “Just as the Pelasgians and the Hellenes relied on the counsel of their pythia, we rely on the advice of ours to help us authenticate our finds.”

  “Then what you call a pythia is sort of a psychic bloodhound?”

  The old woman moved to the sink to wash out a mixing bowl. She chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way of saying it.”

  “I don’t believe in the paranormal,” Cassie said dismissively.

  Faye paused in her clean-up operation to study the girl’s face for a few moments. “Then how do you explain your dream about Sybil? Your vision of the oracle?”

  Cassie shrugged though she seemed unwilling to meet the old woman’s eyes. “Everyone has bad dreams. Maybe I’ve got an overactive imagination. Maybe I’m just plain crazy.”

  Faye smiled briefly. “And it would be easier for you to question your own sanity rather than to believe in the unseen?”

  The girl remained silent, so the old woman continued. “The human brain has many functions. Some logical, some intuitive. Unfortunately, the modern world has rejected one half of the brain’s functions in favor of the other. We put our faith in science, and science puts its faith in logic. At least it did until Newtonian physics fell out of favor. We don’t live in a clockwork universe after all.”

  “What?” Cassie looked up blankly.

  Faye laughed. “I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean to travel so far afield, but I’m trying to explain that your dismissal of intuitive phenomena cuts you off from the untapped potential of your own mind. Why do you think so many ancient cultures relied on shamans, oracles, and faith healers? It wasn’t quaint superstition. These practitioners of the paranormal arts possessed real power. They understood how the mind actually works and were able to maximize its potential for the benefit of their people. Modern science’s contempt for the magical has created an unproductive skepticism in the mind of the average person. Quantum physics is now beginning to explain the connection between spirit and matter. Yesterday’s magic is fast becoming tomorrow’s science. I’m asking you to move past what you’ve been trained to believe and try to keep an open mind. Can you do that?”

  Cassie relented slightly. “OK, I suppose I can try. But it seems like you’re put
ting a lot of faith in what’s going on in somebody else’s head. What if your pythia is having a bad day, and the radio signal to the great beyond is scrambled? They might say something is ancient when it’s not.”

  “The pythia is only our starting point.” Faye finished rinsing the bowl and put it in the dish drainer. “We balance intuition with factual evidence. We don’t rely solely on her impressions. We validate everything she tells us.”

  “You said ‘she.’ Is it always a she?” Cassie selected a carrot stick from the platter on the table. She bit into it with a loud crunch.

  Faye began to wipe down the kitchen counter with a dish cloth. “Not necessarily, though in the past it has tended to be that way. Women’s brains work a little differently than men’s. With regard to the skills required of a pythia, it seems to be an advantage to be female.”

  “Interesting.” Cassie moved on to an equally crunchy stick of celery. “Tell me how this works. Does the pythia find the relic herself or do you give her something you think is a relic and let her tell you what it is?”

  Faye paused and tilted her head to consider the matter. “A little bit of both actually. Sometimes she’ll feel a strong pull to investigate a site and will unearth the relic herself. More often than not, we acquire things through the private antiquities market and bring them to her for identification.”

  Cassie sipped her tea. “How can you be sure she’s right?”

  “Once she’s told us some of the basic details of an object, we can validate its age, place of origin, probable context, and come to some conclusion about her accuracy.”

  “Is that what you did with me? Validate?” Cassie asked cautiously.

  Faye removed her apron and shook the flour from it before hanging it on a wall hook. She caught a glimpse of her flour-streaked face in the hanging mirror and hastily wiped the smudges away before continuing. “Yes, I already knew what the bowl was before I asked you to touch it. When you described it accurately with no help from me, then I was certain.”

  Cassie changed the subject. “I pick up objects all day long. Why don’t I go into a trance every time I touch something that belongs to somebody else?”