The pythia studied him narrowly. “You have feelings for this guy.”
“Of course I do.” The scion seemed stumped by her comment. “He’s my friend, and I care about him.”
“Are you sure you aren’t in love with him?” she hinted gently.
Daniel leaped out of his chair as if he’d been struck. “That’s absurd! Men don’t feel that way about each other.”
Unflustered, Cassie gazed up at him. “Sure they do. A whole three per cent of the population is attracted to the same gender.”
“It’s an abomination that strikes at the very heart of Nephilim principles!” Daniel insisted hotly. “How can a man build his celestial kingdom through another man? My father has excommunicated members of the brotherhood for such an offense.”
“Is building a celestial kingdom your dream future?” Cassie asked pointedly. “Or is it your father’s?” She stood and placed a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Don’t mind me or my hunches. I specialize in reading artifacts and talking to dead people. What do I know about the living?”
“Sorry I overreacted.” Daniel winced sheepishly.
“I’m glad you have somebody. This Sage Stone quest is a rough gig. We both need people in our lives we can rely on—people who care about us as much as we care about them.”
“Yes, we do.” Daniel wavered a moment. “I’d like to believe that you and I are friends now, too.”
“Absolutely.” Cassie gave him a reassuring pat on the back as she turned to check the readout on the alarm. “We’d better get moving. It’s show time.”
***
When Daniel and Cassie reached the scrivener’s door, it swung open on the first knock.
“Olga has already arrived. We’ve been waiting for you.” Griffin beamed down at them both.
Cassie turned to Daniel and confided, “This is a good sign. He’s smiling.”
Then, addressing the scrivener, the pythia said, “You cracked it, didn’t you?”
“By Jove, you must be psychic,” he observed dryly. “Come in.” He ushered them into the room, rubbing his hands together with anticipation. “I can’t wait to show you.”
They all gathered around a laptop computer which lay open on the table.
Griffin took a seat at the keyboard and began typing. “Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to present to you the golden road of Boreas.”
Everyone leaned in and peered at the screen.
“It’s a map,” Daniel said flatly.
“It is a map of Poland and Lithuania,’ Olga added.
“Among other things,” the scrivener remarked mysteriously.
“Stop playing around.” Cassie smacked him lightly on the back of the head. “Just point to the spot you want us to look at.”
Griffin obligingly tapped the screen, indicating a large body of water.
“That wasn’t hardly helpful,” the pythia said.
Daniel read the caption. “‘The Baltic Sea.’”
“The Baltic Sea,” Griffin echoed. “In ancient times, it was part of an important trade route that originated in Scandinavia, traveled overland through central Europe, and terminated at Venice.”
“So?” Cassie asked blankly.
“This particular trade route was devoted exclusively to one item.” Griffin paused for effect. “Amber.”
“Ah!” Olga exclaimed. “Now I begin to understand.”
“So, when the Minoan priestess gave me an amber necklace...”
Griffin completed the thought. “It jogged my memory about the ‘Amber Road.’”
“I’m not sure what that proves exactly,” Daniel demurred.
“You’ll see in a moment,” Griffin told him.
“You have to let him take his time,” Cassie whispered in the scion’s ear. “He loves long explanations.”
“I’m not actually deaf, you know.” The scrivener typed another search string. “There, you see?” He pointed to the screen once more.
The scion read aloud: “‘The Amber Road transported what was commonly called the gold of the north.’” He paused as the implication struck him. “Boreas is the god of the north wind. So, Boreas’ golden road must be a reference to this Amber Road of yours.”
“Precisely,” the scrivener concurred.
“But how can you be sure the Minoans knew about this trade route?” the scion challenged. “It makes sense that such a road would have existed in Greco-Roman times, but we’re talking about 1000 BCE.”
“This route was active as early as 1600 BCE,” Griffin countered. “At the height of their civilization, the Minoans maintained extensive trade networks and were known to purchase Baltic amber. It has been found in graves pre-dating 1000 BCE.”
“Sounds pretty convincing to me,” Cassie said.
“Yes, it does,” Daniel conceded.
“But you must also bear in mind that our riddle instructs us to go past the golden road of Boreas,” Griffin cautioned. “Therefore, we must look beyond the coastline for our ultimate destination.” He typed a few more keystrokes and brought a new map onscreen showing the northern half of the sea.
His listeners eagerly scanned the map for clues.
“There’s nothing there but a dead end.” Daniel seemed nonplussed.
“Your choice of words is quite apropos,” the scrivener commented. “Dead end, indeed. Look here.” He hovered the cursor over the northern edge of the Baltic which terminated in the Bay Of Bothnia.
“So, if the Baltic ends in the Bay Of Bothnia, it dies,” the pythia said. “Any islands in that area figuratively kill the sea.”
“It’s much more than proximity alone.” The scrivener increased the magnification on the screen. “The Lulea Archipelago is a chain of over seven hundred islands at the northernmost tip of the Bay Of Bothnia. These islands have a singular property. Because of fresh water run-off from rivers and streams, the salinity in the archipelago is lower than anywhere else in the Baltic—less than three percent.”
“So, the sea gives way to fresh water, and it dies in that place,” Olga said.
“This sounds like a promising lead.” Daniel gave a hopeful smile. “Is there a great river near the Lulea Archipelago?”
“I’m very glad you asked that question,” the scrivener replied archly.
Cassie rolled her eyes.
Griffin drew up another screen shot of the area. “Directly to the west of the archipelago is the coastal town of Lulea. It takes its name from the Lule River which empties into the bay there.”
“So, you must follow the great river Lule,” Olga concluded. “But to where?”
The scrivener’s jaunty attitude diminished slightly. “That’s where we reach a sticking point.” He moved the screen display to show the westward course of the Lule River. “Its headwaters end at a lake called Akkajaure.”
“A lake! That has to be a good sign!” Cassie exclaimed.
“No, it isn’t.” The scrivener sighed. “The lake is a man-made reservoir and has only existed for the past hundred years.”
Cassie leaned down and rested her hands on the table next to Griffin. “Looks like it’s time for me to do some digital dowsing.”
“Digital dowsing?” Daniel repeated skeptically. “You’re going to use your psychic abilities on a computer screen. Does that really work?”
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 scre
en. “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.
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