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.
“Dessert 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 th
e gods.”
“Huh?” Cassie looked up from her plate.
“I think he’s referring to the Aesir-Vanir War which was first recorded by Snorri Sturluson in the thirteenth century,” Griffin said. “It’s a mythological battle between two tribes of deities which eventually merged into a single pantheon of Norse gods. The Vanir represented an older earth-based set of beliefs. The principal Vanir deities were the goddess Freya and her consort-brother Frey.”
“That sounds suspiciously matristic,” the pythia said.
“As it should,” Griffin agreed. “It’s quite likely that the distant ancestors of the Scandinavian farmers originated in southern Europe or Anatolia. They worshipped a principal goddess who was accompanied by a year-god as her consort and/or son. Freya rides a chariot drawn by two cats which is strikingly similar to the Anatolian goddess Cybele whose chariot is drawn by two lions. The name ‘Freya’ itself simply means ‘Lady’ much like the word ‘Potnia’ meant ‘Divine Lady’ to the ancient Minoans. Her brother’s name means ‘Lord.’ The parallels to matricentric cultures in the Mediterranean are unmistakable.”
“But the ways of the Battle-Axe overlords were different,” Lars countered between mouthfuls of food. “They lived to fight, and they had no respect for the people who tended the land. They also had no respect for the shamans and seers of the herders and farmers.”
“That’s quite true,” the scrivener picked up the thread. “In fact, the war between the Aesir and the Vanir was provoked because the overlord deities feared the growing influence of the Vanir seers among them. As the story goes, Odin and his forces attacked the Vanir in order to keep the Aesir Battle-Axe Culture from becoming contaminated by a different set of beliefs.”
“So, you’re saying the Vanir were asking for it?” Cassie’s tone was sarcastic.
“I’m not saying it’s true,” Griffin protested. “I’m merely stating the rationale given for starting the war. I’m sure the Aesir’s real-life overlord counterparts justified many an invasion along similar lines.”
“That is so typical.” The pythia threw her hands up in disgust. “It’s just like what happened when the Hellenic tribes overran Crete. In their myths, they said they were protecting Athenian youth from evil King Minos and his Minotaur. What a load of bull. Literally!” She caught a look of amazement on Griffin’s face and burst out laughing. “What, I’m not supposed to do research in my off hours?”
“I... uh...” The scrivener seemed at a total loss for words.
“That’s very interesting but what happened between the Aesir and the Vanir?” Daniel prompted.
Griffin recovered himself enough to resume the tale. “After the two pantheons had been battling each other for some time, they realized neither one could win. Eventually, they called for a truce and an exchange of hostages. Freya and her brother went to live with the Aesir while Hoenir and Mimir, two overlord deities, went to live with the Vanir.”
“And in Norse mythology, Freya ended up as Odin’s wife. Also typical,” Cassie remarked acidly.
“I don’t understand,” Daniel mumbled self-consciously.
“Whenever overlord tribes move into an area, they start tinkering with the local mythology,” the pythia explained. “The previous reigning goddess gets demoted and becomes the old ball-and-chain of the invader’s god. The origin myths of Greece, Rome, Egypt, India, and China all follow the same pattern.”
“I see.” Daniel furrowed his brow. “So, in all likelihood, Freya would have been the supreme divinity of the Scandinavian countries before the arrival of the overlord steppe invaders and their god Odin.”
“Precisely,” Griffin concurred.
“The Aesir-Vanir truce was not so much of a compromise either,” Lars chimed in, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Because the overlords took over the land, the Aesir deities got to have things their way. They kept the two most important gods of the Vanir—Freya and Frey—while all the Vanir got in exchange were two gods nobody ever heard of before and one of them ended up losing his head.”
“The victors get to rewrite mythology,” the pythia pointed out. “And that’s the only version anybody remembers.”
Daniel turned to Lars. “The Saami tribe you spoke about earlier. I assume they’re matristic. Do they still worship Freya as their principal goddess?”
Lars smiled. “The Saami lived in this land long before the farmers who worshipped Freya. They pray to Ahkka but that is a story for tomorrow when we visit her mountain.” He rose unexpectedly and announced, “I am going back for more food. These plates are not big enough.”
Chapter 37—Global Warning
Erik slipped inside his room and relocked the door. He leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d managed to get to Metcalf’s office, search it, and return undetected. It was around one o’clock in the morning, but he immediately retrieved his cell phone and dialed Maddie’s number. She was going to want to hear this.
He sank into his easy chair and waited for her to pick up.
“Wha...?” came the drowsy response.
“Maddie, it’s Erik. Sorry to call so late.”
“Hang on...”
He heard background sounds as she shifted the phone, switched on a light and readjusted her position. “It’s the middle of the night. This better be good.”
“Oh, it is. I just got back from Metcalf’s office.”
“You searched it like I asked?” The chatelaine sounded alert now.
“Yup. And I found it.”
There was a shocked silence on the other end. “You mean the list?”
“The very one.” He couldn’t keep a gleeful tone out of his voice.
Ever since Maddie had ordered him to bug the diviner’s office, she and her security team at the vault had been obsessed with discovering the details of Metcalf’s plague attack. The chatelaine wanted to know who he was targeting and why. The spy app on the diviner’s phone had been helpful to a point. The Arkana now knew that Metcalf intended to unleash pneumonic plague at particular locations around the globe. They knew he had ordered Joshua to select 150 vaccinated men to distribute the plague in metal water bottles which were actually gas canisters of the deadly airborne virus. However, none of the conversations they’d overheard gave any clue as to which countries were being targeted much less which regions in those countries would be the plague epicenters. Tonight, Erik had stumbled across the answers to both those questions.
“Well? You’re testing my patience.” Maddie sounded as if she were growing irritable.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist a dramatic pause.” The paladin chuckled. “I had to pick a lock on one of his desk drawers, but I found the countries he’s targeting. I wrote down the names, but I don’t want to risk texting them to you. Have you got a pen?”
He waited until Maddie fumbled for pad and paper, then read off the list.
“Those are the top fifty developed countries in the world,” she murmured as she finished capturing the names.
“On every continent, too,” Erik remarked. “I think that was intentional. Metcalf probably wants to impact the largest possible geographic area.”
“I suppose it’s feasible,” Maddie admitted. “It only took a dozen Genoese merchant ships with twenty plague-infected crewmen each to start a pandemic that wiped out half of Europe in the fourteenth century.”
“I think it’s kind of creepy that you know that,” the paladin said.
“Ever since your return from the dead, I’ve made plague history my personal trivial pursuit.” She hesitated as another thought struck her. “Fifty countries are a pretty big target. With only a three-man crew deployed per country, it would take years for the plague to spread.” Yeah, but he isn’t planning on taking down an entire country’s population.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.” Maddie’s voice held a note of dread.
“I’m almost afraid to tell you,” the paladin countered. “I couldn’t find details on
each of the countries except for some scribbled notes about one. The good old US of A. I’m assuming his strategy will be the same in all the others.”
“And that is?” Her tone remained wary.
Erik sighed. “He’s targeted the Capital Building, the New York Stock Exchange, and Atlanta International Airport.”
The information was met with dead silence as Maddie processed the information. “My goddess!” She seemed stunned. “He’s trying to bring down central government, transportation, and the economy.”
“It’s a surgical strike,” Erik elaborated. “A single canister of plague virus could be carried in a back pack through an airport terminal or the lobby of the stock exchange or the visitor’s gallery of Congress. Even if the carrier was stopped at a security checkpoint, he could always leave his innocent looking empty water bottle near an air return vent somewhere around the building. If only a fraction of the people who worked in those places was infected, the virus would spread exponentially. Visitors just passing through any of those target locations would contaminate people during their travels. By the time the CDC even figured out what the problem was, it would be too late. There are no antibiotics that can kill this strain of virus and no known vaccines that could stop it.”
“So, he wants to destroy a country’s infrastructure,” the chatelaine speculated.
“I think he wants to do more than that.” Now Erik’s tone was grim. “Remember the sarin gas attacks in the Tokyo subway a few years back?”
“Yeah, I do. What’s your point?”
“Well, the lunatic in charge of that cult believed that he could stir up a global war by blaming the attacks on Japan’s enemies. While everybody was busy fighting everybody else, he thought he could step in and take over.”
“You think Metcalf wants to rule the world?” Maddie seemed unconvinced. “That’s a bit of a stretch.”
“No, chief. That’s not what I think.” He hesitated. “Metcalf wants the Fallen World to destroy itself. If all the superpowers suspect each other of orchestrating the plague attacks, they’ll start a global war. One that nobody will survive. Between crippled transportation, political instability, economic meltdown, looting in the streets, plague deaths, and World War III, the human population of the planet would be decimated. The only communities left intact will be Nephilim.”
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