The God Extinction

by Kevin Tumlinson

  But this cross had always stuck with him.

  He looked up to the others. Denzel and Ludlum were both leaning in, curious.

  Kotler smiled, and nodded to the cross, moving it so that the camera could pick up its details and broadcast them to the display.

  “You see this, the cross?”

  “Hard to miss,” Denzel said.

  “Wait,” Ludlum said, perplexed. “Aren’t these artifacts supposed to be Celtic?”

  Kotler nodded. “Exactly. So what is a Christian cross doing on the hilt of a Celtic sword, dated to a period almost five hundred years before the birth of Christ?”

  He glanced to Maalyck, who was smiling and letting Kotler have his moment.

  “I give,” Denzel said. “What’s it doing there?”

  Kotler chuckled. "It's because this isn't a Christian cross at all. It's similar, and there's some speculation that early Christians may have co-opted the symbol, as a means of converting an earlier culture. But it's more likely that this is the symbol of Tanat, more often referred to in Celtic mythology as Dôn, or Dana. She was the Celtic equivalent of the Phoenician goddess of the moon and fertility, Tanit."

  Denzel shook his head. “There’s a lot to unpack there, Kotler. Are you saying that the Christians stole the cross from the Celts?”

  “More likely from the Phoenicians,” Kotler replied. “But it wasn’t exactly stealing. Maybe ‘borrowing’ would be a better word. Or …” he thought for a moment. “Incorporating. That fits better. The early Christian church was smart about its approach to conversion. They knew that old beliefs die hard. And so they made an effort to incorporate the ancient beliefs and practices of an existing mythology, symbology, and traditions. Rather than try to fight it, they incorporated all of it into the more modern Christian story.”

  Denzel looked uncomfortable, and Kotler understood why. They didn’t discuss it much, but Denzel was definitely a believer, and a practicing Christian.

  "Think of it as fulfilling the Biblical directive," Kotler said, trying to ease Denzel's discomfort. "That all things serve the Lord. Early Christians knew that symbols and traditions were the keys to making potential converts understand the teachings of Christ. So rather than try to convince converts to give up their old ways, early Christians simply changed their meaning. Whatever traditions or customs a culture had, Christians taught them how those ideas aligned with the teachings of Christ. For example, the Greek symbol, Ichthys, sometimes known as the ‘Jesus fish,' was previously used in both Paganism and even Buddhism. It came to be associated with Christ through the story of the fishes feeding the multitudes—a clever way to connect ideologies. The vestment robes worn by many Christian leaders were adapted from Pagan practices. And of course, crosses appear in cultures throughout history, most of which predate Christianity by thousands of years. Both the Greeks and the Egyptians used a cross as part of their religious observance, as did the Phoenicians, the Druids, the Vikings."

  Kotler saw the expression on Denzel's face and decided to have mercy on his friend. "All things serve the Lord."

  Denzel’s expression was dubious, and he shook his head. “I grew up with a few folks who would take great offense to all of that,” he said.

  Kotler nodded. "Probably true. It's not a popular idea. But it's history. People often feel threatened when history challenges their assumptions. They forget that none of this changes the core of their faith. If they believe, a knowledge of history can actually deepen that belief. It has for me. I'm not entirely certain about the truth and reality of a Creator, but the deeper I look into history and science the more I'm convinced that there's something out there. Something beyond my understanding." He glanced around to see Ludlum and Maalyck watching and shook his head, smiling. "At any rate, we're getting off track. The point is, this is not a Christian cross."

  He placed the sword on top of the case, at a slight angle, so that the hilt protruded out over the table’s surface.

  He glanced back to Maalyck. “I think you should have the honors,” he said.

  Maalyck’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, bringing up his palms in protest. “No, I could not. This was your discovery, Dr. Kotler. I brought this so that you could be the one.”

  Kotler studied him for a moment, then nodded.

  He picked up the amulet, feeling the heft of it. He turned it so that he could see the slotted hole. It made sense now. It matched perfectly to the cross on the sword's hilt. Kotler aligned it and then slid the amulet—the pommel—into place. He gave it a turn and was rewarded with a satisfying click as the pommel joined to the sword.

  He looked up. Denzel and Ludlum seemed to be holding their breath. Maalyck merely observed, smiling.

  “Is that it?” Denzel asked.

  “Seems to be,” Kotler said.

  “Kind of anticlimactic,” Denzel replied.

  “What were you expecting? It would glow with power? Open a gateway to another reality?”

  Denzel scoffed. “No,” he said, his tone defensive.

  Kotler grinned and picked up the sword, examining it closer. With the pommel now in place, it changed the balance of the sword, giving it a more substantial feel. It felt like it could be used in battle. And judging from the nicks and chips in the blade, it had been. This was not simply art, meant for show. This was a fine weapon, crafted for combat.

  And then there was the stone.

  “Martook,” Kotler said. “In your research, did you happen to find any information about a map, etched into the jewel of this pommel?”

  Maalyck shook his head. “No, nothing about a map. Though we have found hints of the sword being a key.”

  “A key?” Kotler asked. “To what?”

  Maalyck smiled. “That is the other reason I have come,” he said. “The sword is to unlock the greatest of treasures—the tomb of Credne, and the gateway to the Otherworld of the Tuatha dé Danann.

  Chapter Three

  They were using the large conference room within the FBI’s Historic Crimes division. Kotler and Maalyck sat across from each other. Denzel was leaning against the coffee station, having served each of them a steaming cup.

  Maalyck slid a set of photographs across to Kotler, and Denzel came around, leaning over Kotler’s shoulder.

  Kotler arched an eyebrow, and shook his head, smiling to himself. In a way, it was entertaining that Denzel had such a keen interest in all of this. On the other hand, he was being a little lackadaisical about personal space.

  “Where are these from?” Kotler asked.

  “The excavation site,” Maalyck replied. “We have made great progress, though the brass hall itself remains blocked by several tons of stone and debris. In our attempts to dig into it from different angles, we have found several more chambers. Smaller, but there are artifacts within each. One contained pillars inscribed with Celtic runes. Some of the only written records of early Celtic and Druidic tradition.”

  “Amazing,” Kotler said, leaning forward and examining the carvings. “But wait … some of these are Greek?”

  Maalyck smiled and nodded. “It is how we’ve managed to translate the messages so quickly. While we recognized most of the runes, their groupings made no sense to us until we found their corollary in Greek. There are also Egyptian hieroglyphs and Phoenician writing, all helping to confirm our translations.”

  Kotler looked up and shook his head. "Unbelievable."

  “Why’s that unbelievable?” Denzel asked.

  Kotler glanced at him. The agent was hovering over him, and in that moment seemed to realize it. He straightened, and then took a seat beside Kotler.

  Kotler chuckled. “Well, it’s like finding the Rosetta Stone. Multiple languages inscribed in one document—or on one stone. Multiple accounts of the same information. It makes it possible to translate any language we aren’t familiar with. The Rosetta Stone was important because it gave us a way to translate languages that were lost to history. This is similar. There are very few written accounts of the D
ruids, and almost nothing written by them specifically.”

  “Why’s that?” Denzel asked.

  “Largely due to the Romans,” Maalyck replied. “As the Romans cemented their hold on their empire, the Druids were seen as a threat. The Druids were the intellectual class of the Celts, which made them dangerous to the expanding government of the empire. There was a campaign to destroy anything they produced, which especially included written records. As a result, most of what is known of them today comes from Roman and Greek accounts, and those are highly biased. Accusations of human sacrifice and rituals of dark magic were used to turn public opinion against the Druids, to cast them as figures to be feared.”

  Denzel nodded. "Propaganda."

  “Exactly,” Kotler replied, nodding. “And it only got worse over time. But not all was lost. Remember we were talking about Christianity incorporating the traditions and customs of other cultures? That included a lot of Druidic tradition. Early converts among the Druids maintained their practices, replacing prayers to Celtic gods with prayers to saints, to the Virgin, to Christ. It was simple enough, replacing one name with another. The concepts were generally the same. What, really, is the difference between a goddess of wisdom and a patron saint of learning? Rather than surrender and allow their culture to be erased, the Druids instead allowed their traditions to be subverted and absorbed, and then resurrected their practices with Christian themes. And some of those practices still exist to this day, considered to be sacred traditions of the church.”

  Denzel blew out a breath. “Ok, this is fascinating and all,” he looked at Maalyck, “but what did your people learn from all those translations?”

  Maalyck turned one of the photographs so that it faced him again. “Most referred to the accomplishments of Credne and his brothers, praising them for their craftsmanship, particularly in forging weapons used in the war against the Fomorians.”

  Kotler watched Denzel as Maalyck spoke, noting his body language. He saw the blank look. “The Fomorians,” Kotler supplied, “were a race of monsters, in Celtic mythology. They were the enemies of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the Druidic gods. Where the Tuatha Dé represented all that was good and beautiful in the world, the Fomorians represented darkness, chaos, evil.”

  “Demons,” Denzel offered.

  Kotler nodded. “For the sake of comparison, yes. In some sense, both the Tuatha Dé and the Fomorians could be compared to angels and demons in Christian mythology. Essentially the same race, but their appearance and demeanor and abilities are determined by their natures. There are legends of the two intermarrying and producing offspring. Some of these legends parallel other cultures, such as the Norse gods and the jötnar, or frost giants, in Norse mythology. There are enough parallels, in fact, that some speculate that they share a common root mythology.”

  “Comparative mythology,” Denzel said.

  Kotler’s eyebrows went up. “Exactly! You were paying attention to my talk.”

  Denzel smirked.

  Maalyck placed the photograph back on the table. "In this section, there is mention of the brass hall. Credne's hall. It mentions his tomb as well. But more intriguing was the mention of a gateway to the Otherworld of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”

  “The Otherworld?” Kotler replied. “The home of the gods?”

  Maalyck nodded. “According to numerous inscriptions within the chamber, the path to the home of the gods lay with Credne. And to find it, one must ‘enter through the mouth of Credne.’” He turned then, and took another photo from a folder in his bag, placing it on the table between them.

  Kotler and Denzel both leaned forward at once.

  The photo was actually two images side by side, both depicting a face made of brass, mounted on stone. Kotler realized that these were not two different faces, but the same face, depicted with different expressions. "The eyes and the mouth open," Kotler said, glancing up.

  Maalyck nodded. “When one presses the face inward, the eyes and mouth open, as does a stone shaft above the doorway. To the best of our knowledge, this is all that takes place. We’ve attempted to open this door, trying all but destructive force, but it will not budge.”

  Kotler studied the image closer. “Have you scanned it? Ground-penetrating radar? Ultrasonics?”

  “The stone is too thick and dense,” Maalyck said, shaking his head. “And we must be careful with some of our scanning methods. We cannot use any method that might trigger activity in the stone. As you are aware, the area is unstable.” He smiled at Kotler.

  Kotler blinked, then laughed. Twenty years earlier, he and Martook Maalyck had barely escaped the brass hall with their lives. After discovering the hall, and briefly exploring it, they had inadvertently triggered something that caused the unstable stone around them to shift. The caves and tunnels through which they had entered and escaped had collapsed under tons of debris, shutting the hall away under the rubble.

  Kotler and Martook had escaped with only their lives and a single artifact—the bronze sword of Credne.

  Kotler was looking at the photos, considering. “That opening, Credne’s mouth, doesn’t look big enough for a person to enter.”

  "It is not," Maalyck agreed. “We are not certain what the inscriptions are actually referring to. Some wonder if we have misinterpreted them. We have examined the opening, and have found nothing inside but the surface of the stone door. We believe the sword is the key to opening the tomb of Credne. Or the gateway to the Otherworld. Or perhaps both, we really can't be certain. But we do not know how it would do so, or how the mouth of Credne is connected.” He took a document out of his bag and pointed to a highlighted section. "Here, you can read the translation."

  Kotler took the document.

  The Otherworld awaits those who enter through the mouth of Credne.

  That seemed cryptic enough. It presented as a riddle of sorts, but without more context Kotler couldn’t yet determine what it meant.

  There were other mentions of the gateway, of the Tuatha Dé Danann, of the exploits and accomplishments of various Irish gods. But one notable passage caught Kotler’s attention:

  When Credne’s blade pierces the veil, the Otherworld will welcome the worthy. The path to the gods will be revealed by the eye of Credne.

  “This part,” Kotler said. “Do you know what it means?”

  Maalyck examined the passage, and shook his head. “No. The eyes of the visage are made of the same solid brass. Only the lids open. We have located nothing that might be considered a veil, in any of our excavations. We believe this must refer to something either in the brass hall or in some as yet undiscovered chamber.”

  Kotler was studying the photograph of the face. “This visage, we believe this is Credne?”

  Maalyck nodded. “There are several indications within the chamber.”

  “I know that look,” Denzel said. “You figured something out.”

  Kotler shook his head. “Not so much figured out as come to a suspicion.”

  He looked at Maalyck. “The mouth of Credne has to be a reference to this visage. The opening mouth can’t be a coincidence, given this passage. But the translation about the eye is singular. That might indicate some other object, and not the visage. Martook, you said that you found references to the sword being a key?”

  Maalyck nodded. “It is obscure, but there is a mention of this in the translations. And one of the runes etched into the blade does translate roughly as ‘key.’”

  “And I think we’ve found the keyhole,” Kotler said, pointing to Credne’s open mouth. “Pierce the veil. The word itself, veil, has cultural connotations that go back thousands of years. I think, in this case, it’s the veil of death.” He looked up. “We don’t really know how Credne died. There’s no mention of it in Irish mythology. Nothing that has survived to this day, at any rate. But I’ve been curious about something, since finding the brass hall years ago. I’ve thought about it from time to time, and now it’s really bugging me.”

  “What’s that?” De
nzel asked.

  “Why Credne?”

  Denzel shook his head. “What do you mean? Why not Credne? He’s supposed to be a god, right?”

  Kotler nodded, then said, "He is. But his part in Irish mythology wasn't exactly a solo role. He wasn't a sung hero, per se. He was always mentioned alongside his brothers, Goibniu and Luchtaine. They were known as the Sri Dée Dána. The three gods of art, in Celtic mythology. They were the children of Brigid and Tuireann, two of the most powerful gods in the Celtic pantheon. Basically, Credne was the almost-famous god. A goldsmith who crafted objects that were imbued with mystical properties. Forging weapons for the war with the Formions was about as close to combat as Credne ever got, according to mythology. So when it's all said and done, Credne isn't the sort of god you'd expect to have this level of reverence. So … why Credne?"

  Denzel huffed, and sat back.

  Maalyck was leaning forward, his hands together, his fingers resting just beneath his nose.

  “I believe it’s because of how he died,” Kotler said, after a pause.

  “But you said we don’t know how he died,” Denzel said.

  Kotler shook his head. "Officially we don't. But I think we've just discovered it." He tapped the photo of Credne, his mouth open. "I believe the sword is meant to enter the mouth of Credne and act as a key."

  Maalyck shook his head. “As I have told you, the opening leads only to the stone surface of the door. At best the sword would enter only a few centimeters before being stopped by the stone.”

  Kotler nodded. “True. Except we know about an old trick the builders used, don’t we? When you and I were trying to find our way into the brass hall, we discovered that what appeared to be solid oak from floor to ceiling actually had soft spots. Hidden behind a realistic facade was the trigger for opening the door. All we had to do was cut away the thinner wood with an awl, do you remember?”