Elemental Origins: The Complete Series

by A. L. Knorr

  We were transported along with the Bluejacket team to the city in the same black SUV's that had picked us up from the airport. The party was to be held at a hotel in Gdańsk but I didn't know what to expect. Aside from school dances and a couple of weddings, I had been to no formal events.

  Once we pulled up to the hotel entrance, a valet was there to open the door. We stepped out onto a red carpet and looked up at the huge stone building we were about to enter. It wasn't a hotel. It was a castle.

  "Holy shit," Mom muttered under her breath.

  "Yeah.” My neck creaked as I looked up in awe.

  We entered the lobby, which was a large courtyard open to the sky; only the seating areas and front desk were covered with stone archways. A sign saying 'Novak Stoczniowców Braciz' and an arrow pointing through an arched double doorway showed us the way. We went down a long stone hallway lined with antique furniture, paintings of green countryside, and suits of armour. Muted classical music came from somewhere and as we approached two huge wooden doors we were welcomed by a man and a woman both in black tie who opened them for us.

  On the other side of the doors, we came to a halt. A line-up of formally-dressed people, including some Bluejacket team members, were waiting to be welcomed one at a time by Novak executives. We joined the line-up and waited our turn. Mom ushered me ahead of her.

  The Novak team greeted every guest; Martinius waited at the very end. Antoni was also there, nearer the front of the line. I assumed Antoni's placement was in accordance with his authority within the company. The fact that he was in the line-up in the first place was already impressive.

  When I got to Antoni, he took my hand and bowed to kiss it. He was perfectly polite. Trust him to be the consummate professional. "Welcome, I'm so happy you're here. Thank you for coming," he said to me squeezing my small, cool hand in his big warm one.

  "Thanks, um, you too.” I kicked myself inwardly for not having thought of what to say ahead of time. By the time I got to Martinius, after greeting a dozen more people in the welcoming committee, I had finally pulled my words together.

  Martinius took my hand and looked me square in the eyes. "You know you'll always be welcome here, Targa. Come home anytime you wish.” He squeezed my hand.

  "Thank you Martinius, that's very kind. Congratulations on finally achieving your goal. I'm very happy for you," I said.

  I noted with sadness that his hand trembled in mine and his head shook ever so slightly. It wasn't nerves. It was age. I had never noticed the tremor before and I wondered just what the project had cost him physically and mentally. He had never shown his stress but there must have been a lot at stake for him both professionally and personally.

  "Thank you my dear. Without you and your mother, it never would have happened," he replied generously, patting my hand and then letting me go to greet my mother.

  I was distracted from listening to their exchange when it hit me that he'd intentionally referred to his estate as my 'home'. It made me wonder if he still didn't fully believe that my mother wasn't Sybellen.

  It warmed me all over to realize that by now, I did feel like this place was a second home. My heart ached when I thought about leaving. Would I ever come back? Would I ever see Antoni or Martinius again? Would I ever swim in the Baltic again?

  I was about to ask my mother what Martinius had said to her when we entered the ballroom and I barely kept my jaw from hitting the floor. The room was palatial. People milled about in gowns and tuxedos, making conversation and sipping champagne. It was all very civilized and I felt completely out of place.

  As I looked out at the sea of white and grey hair, I realized that I was by far the youngest person in the room. Everyone looked like nobility. I even saw a few tiaras nestled in grey curls and princely red sashes cutting diagonally across masculine chests.

  Elaborate crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and matching sconces lit the perimeter of the room. Tapestries and paintings hung on the stone walls while massive timbers criss-crossed over our heads. Round tables had been distributed throughout half of the room and set with eight places each. I had never seen tables so beautifully set with silverware, china, crystal and handwritten name cards. The presentation reminded me of the first dinner we'd had with Martinius, only this was even more sumptuous. Large flower arrangements which must have cost a fortune graced the centre of each table.

  I came back to myself and turned to put my hand on Mom's arm. "What did Martinius say to you?"

  "He said thank you, and that he couldn't have done it without us," she replied. "You?"

  "Much the same," I said. "Only he also said that I would be welcome home any time I liked." I emphasized the word 'home'.

  "That was kind of him," Mom answered. I couldn't tell if she'd had the same thought that I had about his choice of words.

  I spotted the orchestra and realized with surprise that the classical music that had been playing in the background was actually live. A white video screen hung on the wall behind the orchestra and a vintage looking microphone had been set up in front of the conductor. The conductor had his back to the room and was moving his arms artfully to lead the music, his frazzled grey hair bouncing joyously.

  "Look.” Mom pointed to a far corner of the ballroom. Through a line of slowly moving people, I could see tables, but I couldn't see what had attracted the crowd. It couldn't be food because there was a sit down dinner to be served tonight, not a buffet.

  "What is it?"

  "It's artifacts taken from The Sybellen. Shall we go see?" She took my hand.

  "Absolutely!"

  Mom snagged two champagne flutes from a waiter on the way and handed one to me. "Just one," she said, giving me a smile. "To celebrate."

  We clinked glasses and took a sip. The champagne was sweet and fizzy. I let bubbles form on my tongue before I swallowed it down.

  We approached the display and got in line. Spread out along four long tables covered in navy cloth were a plethora of artifacts. Each one included a label with a description - bottles of wine, vodka and cognac still with the corks in place, a dozen different kinds of coins of all different shapes, sizes, and metals. Heirloom earrings, bone china and silverware, candlesticks, knives, and pieces of armour.

  "This is one of the hand carved chair backs that I was telling you about before.” Mom pointed to an oddly shaped wooden carving.

  If I hadn't known what it was, I'm not sure I would have figured it out. There was no seat or legs, only a slab of carved wood with two posts that would have attached it to its seat.

  "There was a set of eight of them. Do you see the faces?" She outlined the shape with her finger. The design was of two bearded heads put back to back so they were facing away from the centre of the chair. Their mouths were open in an angry snarl and their eyebrows were knit down into an expression of fury.

  "Friendly," I said.

  "Threatening, right? Martinius has a historian looking into the origin. Only a destination was listed in the manifest. My guess is that a military general, or someone similar, commissioned them. Maybe they were to be used at a negotiating table."

  "Where were they going?" I admired the fine detailing of the men's beards. Their hair swirled around their heads like an eddy in the ocean.

  "The manifest says the Port of Tallinn in Estonia. Often the ports these goods were delivered to was not their final destination. They were picked up by other delivery services and taken further inland."

  "Would that have been the case for most of these artifacts?" I asked.

  She nodded. "Many of them, yes. Once Novak Shipping delivered them to port, their job was done."

  We listened to the questions and speculations of the people around us. The cargo of The Sybellen was drawing people together. English accents mingled with Canadian, American, and Polish accents as well as accents I didn't recognize. There were at least three languages being spoken and all of them held tones of reverence and fascination.

  We passed rosaries, silver candl
esnuffers and tapirs, a pair of scissors, a snuffbox, jewelled cufflinks, a collection of spice jars and shapely oil and vinegar bottles.

  "Does everything look different now that it's out of the water, or do they look the same as when you first saw them?" I asked my mom.

  "Everything you see here has been cleaned, so they look much better than they did when they were first recovered. The Novak team took time to choose which artifacts to put on display and cleaned those first. We recovered a lot more than what you see here."

  An elderly man ahead of us in the line overheard her. He turned towards us and asked in a British accent, "Excuse me, but were you part of the dive team that discovered The Sybellen?" Others around us looked at my mother with interest.

  "Discovered, no. Salvaged, yes," she replied.

  His eyebrows shot up. "Begging your pardon but are there many women salvage divers on your team?"

  "No. Just me."

  A woman with white hair said, "You see, my darling, how times have changed? Nowadays women do everything that men do."

  "Only better," I chimed in, and everyone within earshot laughed.

  I wasn't sure if it was because they were from an older generation or the fact that they were Europeans that triggered her to vocalize the observation. In North America, and to my generation, it was old news that women could do the same jobs as men.

  "Are you going to be a diver too?" asked the woman.

  "I wasn't planning on it until I came here," I said. Mom smiled at me.

  "The magic of the treasure hunt has captured your imagination, has it?" said the man, kindly.

  "Something like that," I replied, smiling.

  I sipped the champagne as we chatted. Before long I felt warm and relaxed and no longer worried about not belonging. After a while I started to feel like everyone's granddaughter.

  When word got out that my mom was one of the salvage divers, she quickly became a centre of interest. They wanted every detail about the dive, where the ship was, what shape it was in and how the salvage operation had been executed. All manner of questions came her way, one after the other.

  Everyone at the party was connected to Martinius in some way, whether it was through family, business, or government. The Sybellen was a legend in this circle and many of them marvelled that she'd ever been found, against so many odds, let alone salvaged.

  "Where was she found?" asked the British gentleman.

  "What did you think when you saw her for the first time?" his wife added, a sapphire tiara glittering from atop her thinning grey curls.

  My mom took a breath to answer when another lady asked, "Aren't you horribly afraid to be all those meters under the sea? I would think it to be frightfully dark and cold."

  More well-intentioned people closed in and more questions came before she had time to answer. I felt Mom stiffen, her eyes darting from face to face. The people were just curious but my mother was starting to feel claustrophobic. She stumbled over her words in an effort to answer them but she had lost her composure.

  I was desperately trying to think of a polite way to extricate my mother from the interrogation when a familiar scent washed over me. It erased all thought and made my knees weak. I felt his gentle hand at the small of my back and my eyes closed in involuntary pleasure at the warmth that swept over me.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," Antoni said, without giving any hint that he was addressing the crowd purely to rescue my overwhelmed mother. "I'm pleased to inform you that there will be a presentation after dinner complete with video clips and animation to help you fully enjoy the salvage journey."

  The crowd made comments to show how much they were looking forward to the presentation and slowly dispersed. My mother took a deep breath and began to relax. She gave Antoni an appreciative smile, which was more than I had seen her give to any man aside from Martinius since we'd arrived here.

  Antoni returned her smile then looked down at me. "You'd better save me a dance," he said, his hand still on my back.

  "Of course she will," said my mother with an uncharacteristic stroke of gentility.

  "Good," he said, and walked away.

  "What did you say that for?" I shot her a steely look.

  "Well, were you actually going to say no? He's a good man, Targa. They're few and far between. And relax, it's just a dance," she replied. "Let’s find our seats."

  I followed her with mixed emotions. She knew how confusing my feelings towards Antoni were, how just being near him made all my logic fail so utterly and the mating instinct kick in. So, why was she encouraging me to dance with him? It seemed unlike her to involve herself, even in so small a way. I wondered if the lack of salt in her body was to blame for this too.

  Mom and I made our way to the seating map. We'd been placed at the table nearest to the head table, where Martinius would be sitting. We were seated with a blend of Bluejackets and Novak employees. I recognized the names of Simon and Eric; the other four names were Polish.

  As everyone got settled and the room grew quiet, a dark-haired woman in a grey satin gown stepped up to the microphone. She waited until the orchestra finished before she began speaking. She spoke in Polish first and the depth of her voice surprised me. Once she was finished her speech she switched to English. She had a heavier accent than either Martinius or Antoni and so I struggled to understand a few words, but I so enjoyed the sound of her voice that I didn't care.

  "Welcome friends, family, and colleagues," she said, looking completely at home in front of the mic. "My name is Hanna Krulikoski, Chief Financial Officer of Novak Stoczniowców Braciz. As many of you know," she continued, "In 1869 the Novak family and company experienced a heart-breaking personal and professional tragedy. The loss of Mattis Novak and his wife Sybellen nearly spelled the end for the company. The Sybellen, the company's prize ship, was lost at sea along with all the souls on board and the precious cargo. For over 150 years the Novak family has been searching for her and has never given up hope."

  She gave a brief overview of the story and how the ship had been discovered before introducing Martinius. "I am so pleased and honoured," she crossed her gloved hands over her heart, "to be the one to welcome you to the celebration of her recovery and to ask our friend, colleague, and leader to the microphone, Martinius Joseph Novak."

  The ballroom filled with applause and everyone stood up as Martinius made his way to the front. I looked around at all the warm faces and found myself thinking that neither my mother nor I would ever have a room full of people who were as fond of us as these people were of Martinius.

  He too spoke in his native tongue first before he moved to English. He thanked everyone warmly for coming and teased someone named Otto of showing up only for the vodka. The crowd laughed when a balding man with a red face stood up and held aloft a small crystal goblet with a clear liquid in it.

  "Many people believed we were foolish to continue searching year after year for the wreck of The Sybellen. We've been ridiculed mercilessly over the years for throwing good money after bad, and for our obsession. But you..." He swept both gloved hands out wide to the crowd and then brought them together with a loud clap, clasping them in a sincere gesture of gratitude. It would have looked funny on anyone else but perfectly suited an elderly European gentleman like Martinius. "You understood that without obsession, a task like this is only a dream. You are here because you never wavered in your support, you never stopped believing that she'd one day be found."

  As he was speaking, four young men in black tie appeared behind him. It seemed that they were pushing something heavy, as they were bent at the waist. The sound of plastic wheels rolling across the hardwood floor found its way to my ears. I craned my neck to see what was being presented; my imagination conjuring up an elaborately decorated cake.

  As the big black box was rolled into view, I felt the blood drain from my face and a wave of dizziness swept over me. My vision fuzzed out at the sides and I gripped the table, hoping that I didn't faint. I recognized the box instant
ly. It was the one my mother and I had put the figurehead in.

  Chapter 29

  My blood turned to ice in my veins. "Mom!" I whispered, and patted her thigh under the table. She'd seen the box too and her whole body went stiff. She grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed it.

  "What is he doing?" she said under her breath. "We had an agreement."

  "This celebration is our thank you for your enduring faith in our quest. It is a thank you for the hard work of all those involved. And it is a celebration to mark the return home of our long-lost Sybellen," Martinius continued.

  The black box had come to rest beside Martinius and the men hovered nearby. A spotlight had been lit and was shining down, ready to light up the carved face that would shatter our safety. Each of the men had taken hold of one of the corners of the box and was waiting for the go ahead from Martinius, to let the sides drop away.

  "We're leaving. Now," my mom hissed under her breath. "Calmly. No need to panic. We'll be gone before anyone makes the connection."

  I wasn't convinced that there was no need to panic. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. As though we had the idea at the exact same time, my mother and I grabbed our water glasses and drained them. We pushed our chairs back quietly, keeping our movements smooth and unhurried. I was grateful that all attention was on Martinius. My heart pounded and the rush of adrenalin made my legs shake. The champagne/water blend in my stomach soured and I thought I might be sick. We moved slowly towards the door.

  We had trusted Martinius; we'd believed him when he'd promised to keep the figurehead a secret. The enchanted evening had turned into a nightmare.

  Martinius continued, "Please join me in welcoming her home again. I give you..." the men let the sides of the black wooden crate drop away from the glass box inside, "...The Sybellen." Martinius began to clap and the crowd joined in and stood up. People craned their necks to see the contents and a gush of appreciative sounds filled the air.

  I was afraid to look, as though seeing the face would seal our fate. Mom grabbed my hand and I looked up to see her with an expression of genuine surprise. I followed her gaze. Inside the box was not the figurehead but a large bronze bell.