Chapter Five
Artifact
This, Eric Rowan decided when he
and Jason Merrick entered the terminal following the flight from
It was early morning and the
airport was bustling with activity. Eric
was somewhat grateful for this organized chaos because it meant that their
arrival would be difficult to track.
Ever since they had crawled out of that freezing river in southern
After Jason’s lapse in bringing
the assassins right to them, Eric had become paranoid of letting anyone know
where they were. He knew he should have reported into his news editor Robert,
but considering how Robert felt about him at this time, the man would not go to
any lengths to protect him if anyone came asking after them. As it was, the
man’s first order when Eric revealed to him that they had survived the massacre
was to sit tight and wait for instructions.
So far, nothing had been heard from the man and though he did not voice it
to Jason just yet, Eric wondered if the lack of response had anything to do
with the fact that Robert did not expect them to be alive to receive
instructions.
Eric made a mental note to
contact Dominique when time permitted and see if she knew anything about
Robert’s possible links to Malcolm Industries.
While Eric was not entirely ready to believe that Robert hated him
enough to sell him out to the assassins, he could not discount the possibility
either. Besides, Jason was correct, he
did try to bang the bosses’ wife and
most men reacted rather badly to such situations.
After arriving at the airport,
they took a cab to the
After checking into the
impressive hotel with its elegant
Neither Eric nor Jason had made mention of the supernatural aspects of the
situation. Despite everything he had
seen, Eric was simply not convinced that these killers were the boogey men
Jason claimed them to be. There had to
be a logical explanation to all this, he told himself. Eric knew he was being stubborn and his
reason for being so adamant had to do with his fear that his beliefs about the
world were about to endure a spectacular challenge. Yes, he did notice the odd things. The fact
that the helmet had sizzled when it made contact with the assassin’s body. He did not reveal to Jason that they scared
the hell out of him from the moment he had laid eyes on them and it wasn’t
simply because he knew they were killers. It was a fear borne from under the
skin that was almost primordial, the way a mouse knew instinctively that the
cat was its natural enemy from the instant it laid eyes upon the beast.
Not that Jason would have
noticed the conflict. Since the incident at Hofskojull, Eric had noticed that
Jason had trouble sleeping. In the twin share room they had occupied the night
before their flight, Jason’s sleep had been restless. At some points during the
night, Eric was certain Jason had awakened in a cold sweat. He would have asked
the younger man about it but since Jason did not make comment about it, Eric
allowed him his privacy. Even during the
flight when he had dozed off, whatever was bothering him in the twilight hours
had followed Jason and there was more than one occasion when his eyes flew open
in his seat and Eric was certain he was ready to jump out of his skin.
“You okay?” Eric found himself asking during the taxi ride to the university.
Jason turned to him a few
seconds later, realizing he had spoke, “you say something?”
“I asked if you were alright,”
Eric repeated, becoming increasingly concerned about his young partner in
crime. “You seem a little out of it.”
“Its nothing,” Jason shrugged,
“too many thoughts going through my head. None of it making sense.”
“Want to talk about it?” Eric
offered, seeing that it was not all right.
Whatever worried Jason was reflected in his eyes and it showed Eric that
his concerns ran deep.
“Its nothing you to want to
hear,” Jason retorted, a little angry at Eric because he would not believe that
they had stumbled into something dark and sinister, that could not be explained
by normal rules of logic.
“Try me,” Eric offered, telling
himself that he would be supportive no matter how skeptical he was of Jason’s
fears or beliefs that they were being chased by supernatural creatures.
Jason dropped his gaze to the knapsack at his feet, as if he could see past the
canvas into the rock that awaited scrutiny at Hans Skogull’s hands. It was a few more seconds before he raised
his eyes to Eric and trusted his friend enough to answer. Eric may be an ass at times but he was a good
friend and Jason was reasonably confident that he was capable of empathy not
derision if Jason confided in him.
“That thing,” Jason said after a
pause, “I think he knew me.”
“Knew you?” Eric’s brow wrinkled
in confusion. “What do you mean knew you?”
“He came after me,” Jason tried
to explain himself. “When everyone was being gunned down, he came specifically
after me. Why? If it was because I was
apart of the news team, they would have come after you."
“Don’t sell yourself short,”
Eric replied quickly. “They could have just as easily been working their way
through the room.”
However, he could not deny the
truth of Jason’s allegation. When the leader had seen the young Kiwi, nothing
else had seemed to matter. He had more
or less forgotten the others in the room and headed straight for Jason.
“He knew me Eric,” Jason
insisted, “he knew me personally and he kept asking me about a woman.”
“A woman?” Eric’s brow arched
even higher. “What woman?”
“The Shield Bitch he called
her,” he answered, “is the shield bitch here too? That’s what he said?”
“Shield bitch?” Eric burst out
because it sounded absurd. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Jason confessed,
“but when he said it, there was something in his voice.”
“What?” Eric leaned in closer as
he waited for the answer.
“Fear,” Jason met his eyes. “There was fear.”
**************
It did not take them long to
arrive at the campus and Eric was grateful that it was midday since hopefully,
the professor would not be teaching a class at lunch time and would have time
to talk to them. As it was, Eric wondered how much they ought to tell him since
the man would have almost certainly have heard about the deaths of the
excavation team by now. He and Jason decided to play it by ear for the
moment. If it became necessary to tell
him the truth, Eric hoped Hans was capable of hearing it because beyond this
particular course of action, Eric had no other plan save running home to
Australia and somehow, he had the sense that they were no safer there than
there were here.
It did not take them long to
find their way to the Paleoanthropology Department with Eric paying little
attention to the plethora of pretty co-eds that happened past with their Nordic
good looks and perfect bone structure. A testament to the urgency of their
situation. It seemed so profane as they walked along the manicured lawns and
tree-lined paves that little more than a day ago, they were fighting for their
lives in a freezing cold river being pursued by possibly supernatural monsters.
When they were finally shown
into the office of Professor Han Skogull, they were confronted by a man in his
late fifties, dangerously close to retirement age, with snow-white hair and a
face leathered by an outdoor life. They
had not made an appointment out of some irrational fear that Malcolm Industries
might have Skogull’s ear and to do so would be giving the enemy another
opportunity to ambush them again.
“Doctor Skogull,” Eric
introduced himself after he and Jason were invited into the room. “My name is
Eric Rowan and this my associate Jason Merrick, we’re from Channel Nine News in
Australia, if you’re not busy we would like a word with you.”
“What does an Australian news
team want with me?” He asked with genuine curiosity.
“We’ve come a long way to see
you in order to get your opinion on artifact that has come into our
possession,” Eric continued, aware that he was being evasive but short of
telling the man the truth, it was the best he could do.
“Really?” Skogull looked the two
men curiously, wondering what could be so important to bring it to him
personally. “Tell me about it,” he asked
reaching for his spectacles at the corner of the desk.
Eric nodded at Jason who reached
into the knapsack and produced the objects in question. Placing it on the desk,
Skogull’s first impulse was to reach for the helmet. He studied it for a few
moments, his brow arching periodically as he scanned the artifact closely. Of
course it was impossible for him to make any astonishing revelation from just
this observation alone and Eric was reluctant to tell him about Petra Tebben’s
estimation of its correct age, not until he heard what Skogull had to say.
“Where did you find this?”
Skogull asked putting down the helm after a few minutes of interminable
silence.
“Iceland,” Eric answered
gingerly, “it was found in the a chasm about a kilometer from the surface.’
“This isn’t exactly my field but
the design is unusual,” Skogull responded. “Not to mention the size. This is
too large for human and the fossilization around the metal seems to indicate
extreme age, consistent with what I might have found on fossils of early man.”
“Tell him the truth Eric,” Jason
said suddenly.
Eric stared him. “Jason...”
“Tell him the truth because we
need answers and we don’t have time to wait,” the younger man stated. “Those
people were his friends, he has a right to know what happened to them.”
Eric swore under his breath at
Jason’s outburst. The kid was too damn noble for his own good. It was always a
sore point between them out in the field.
Jason had great difficulty maintaining the emotional detachment
journalists were meant to have and there had been too many occasions when Jason
had complicated their assignments with his idealism. Unfortunately, it was also one of the
qualities that Eric admired in Jason, the fact that despite all the ugliness he
saw, Jason honestly believed that people were good and could be trusted if
offered the chance to prove it.
One of these days, it was going to get them killed.
“Explain yourselves gentlemen,”
Hans declared, making the connection with far greater speed than Eric would
have given him credit.
“Professor,” Eric cleared his
throat and threw Jason a dark look, “we took these items from Petra Tebben’s
archaeological excavation in the Temple Glacier. We were there, the day the
team was killed.”
“What?” Hans exclaimed, rising
to his seat, his face turning so white that it almost resembled the shade of
his hair.
“Doctor Tebben had requested a
news team in order to expose her find before Malcolm Industries had the
opportunity to cancel her grant and stopped the work,” Eric continued. “She
called us in to do a story, hoping that the finds which included that helm and
something else, would gain national acclaim and she could justify the
continuation of the work.”
Eric went on to explain how he
and Jason had been shown the helm and the primary artifact, the curious crystal
like object trapped in a shell of stone. He told the professor of how nine men
in dark clothing had appeared in the cavern where the dig was situated and
opened fire, killing everyone and might have done the same to them if not for
their escape. He omitted the supernatural aspects of the killing, certain that
Skogull would find it even more difficult to accept than Eric would
himself. However, what he did reveal was
enough.
“And there is no way to prove
it?” Skogull managed to say after their narration was over.
“Not a one,” Eric shook his
head. “You can check our credentials if you like and contact the Icelandic
authorities. I’m sure my allegation is filed somewhere but truth is, the men
who killed the excavation team want us dead and we have to know what is so
important about these object, they were willing to kill everyone to hide its
existence from the world.”
“But it is impossible,” Skogull
stammered. “This cannot have been made a hundred and fifty thousand years ago,”
he said staring at the helm. “Mankind was able to fashion tools and objects out
of bone, stone and wood but not metal and certainly not like this. For all its
degradation, the work is extremely fine.
Craftsmanship like this is not a mere aberration, it’s sophisticated and
requires technique perfected over time.”
“And this?” Eric gestured to the
artifact that Skogull had given a cursory examination.
“I have never seen anything like
it. Doctor Tebben was correct in saying that it was not a jewel but it is not a
crystal either. You said she claimed it was radiating energy?”
“Apparently the spectrometer was
unable identify what it was,” Jason added. “She had everyone handling it wear
protective gear. We haven’t been that
careful but we have avoided touching the crystal or whatever it is directly.
She believed this was the major find, not the helm.”
Han examined the object while
holding it in a pair of calipers, his eyes catching the gleam in its
surface. There was something powerful
about the artifact. He could feel its resonance almost on an instinctual level.
Even though it was only partially exposed, Hans knew that to discern its true
nature, it would have to be removed from its husk, so that a proper analysis
had been made. His colleagues and friends may have died because of this little
oddity of nature and Hans knew to understand why that had happened, he would
have to unlock its secrets.
************
Frank had just finished his last
class and was on his way home when he remembered that he wanted to check in on
Hans. Thanks to the events of the last day, with the arrival of their
unexpected guests, Frank was ashamed to admit that he had forgotten about the
old Professor who was still grieving for those killed in the accident at
Hofskojull. After ushering his last student out of the room and shutting the
door to the lecture hall behind him, Frank made his way through the faculty
building towards the Professor's office.
He wondered if Miranda would be too upset if he invited the old man home
for dinner again, especially when they had something of a full house already.
So far the two visitors had
contented themselves with remaining in close proximity of the house. Frank
suspected that all the traveling they had done to reach him in Norway had
engendered in them a desire to simply rest for a few days, without the urgency
of having to board some form of modern transport for the next leg of their
journey. In fact, they had remarked
wishing to see some of the country because it reminded them greatly of home.
When questioned again of where that place actually was, they had once again
managed to step the inquiry, inciting Miranda's ire to no end. Despite her detached and disciplined manner,
his wife could be very much female at times and burdened with the gender's
natural inquisitiveness.
There was a good reason it was Pandora
who opened the box, he thought to himself.
The twins seemed to enjoy the
children the most however and while parents in this day and age may have
reservations about two adult men having such a fondness for two young boys,
Frank sensed nothing sinister or inappropriate about it. He could not
understand why he was so certain of this but knew that if Miranda did not
suspect them in this regard, then he could be confident of his own judgment in
the matter. They told the boys of
stories involving wizards and magic rings, of great kings and battles, these
were tales so richly textured that Frank was curious to know where they had
originated because he wished he had known of them a child. While Sam had little
interest in the literary, his first born nevertheless listened with rapt
attention while Pip absorbed everything with wonder and awe.
Walking
down the corridor, he heard voices in the quiet faculty. With most of the
students scattering to their last classes of the day, the staff usually
followed the exodus. Hans always stayed
late since the Professor confessed to him once that it was during these hours
that he got the most thinking done. Frank paused in his footsteps because one
of the voices he heard belonged to Hans and quickly discerned that the
Professor was in the laboratory. Unaware
that Hans was working on anything that required lab work, Frank immediately
strode towards the room. If Hans was
throwing himself into some new project, it was the best thing for him Frank
decided.
Stepping into the laboratory,
Frank saw Hans talking to two strangers with great animation. Neither were men he recognized and they
certainly did not look like university students. Their eyes darted to him the
instant he entered the room like deer that were caught in headlights. Their
anxiety at seeing him was unmistakable and immediately raised Frank's internal
alarm that something was not right.
"Hans, is everything all
right?" Frank asked, eyeing the men cautiously as he walked deeper into
the room.
Hans who had been so engrossed
with what he was doing at the bench had not noticed Frank's presence until he
spoke and then promptly looked over his shoulder to exclaim boisterously,
"Frank, I'm glad you're here. I could use your help on this."
"Professor," the tall
man with the dark hair objected almost instantly.
He was Australian, Frank noted
silently as he continued his approach despite the man's disapproval of his
presence.
"Its alright," Hans
said dismissing his guests' fears, "this is Frank Miller, he's one of our
lecturers and a notable paleoanthropologist. You can trust him."
"What is going on?"
Frank asked suspiciously, his eyes raking over the two strangers with just as
much scrutiny as they were visiting upon him.
"These gentlemen have
brought me an artifact from the site at Iceland. This was what Petra Tebben was
working on, this was the find that she claiming would vindicate her," Hans
said with no small amount of excitement.
"Really?" Frank stared
at them because neither looked like archaeologists of any description. The
shirt worn by the tall one was worth at least week's salary to Frank.
"This is Eric Rowan and
Jason Merrick of the Australian Channel Nine news," Hans announced while
remaining hunched over the workbench, meticulously chipping away the fossilized
layer of dirt around the object that had captured his attention so fully.
"They were the last people to see the team alive."
"And they simply gave you
their artifacts?" Frank stared at Eric with growing animosity. Han's
scientific curiosity often blinded him to people and Frank was too much Bryan
Miller's brother to be so completely trusting.
"Just wait a bloody
minute…" Eric growled, starting to get very annoyed by what this Pom was
implying.
"Frank," Hans raised
his head, equally annoyed that he had to stop what he was doing to intervene in
the growing tensions. "These men did not steal anything. The excavation
team was murdered. They barely escaped with their lives and these objects. They
came to me to find out what was so important about the artifacts that Malcolm
Industries is willing to kill anyone who has come into contact with it."
"What?" Frank stared
at Hans and then at the two men in astonishment, his jaw dropping open in
shock. This was the sort of thing he expected from Bryan, not Professor Skogull
with whom he shared coffee and discussions about their field every morning.
"Murdered."
"Gunned down right in front
of us," Eric retorted bluntly. "Before she died Tebben was certain
that this was the find of the century. I think Malcolm Industries murdered them
all to keep it a secret."
"Over this?" Frank
reached for the artifact that Hans was working on because he was too stunned to
think clearly. He had intended to pick
it up by the fossilized exterior but instead his fingertips grazed the smooth
surface of red uncovered by Hans. No
sooner than his flesh had made contact, surge of heat passed through his skin.
The pain came soon after, sharp and intense.
"BLOODY HELL!" He
shouted and released it immediately, allowing the artifact to fall on the
floor, his fingertips stinging with pain.
"Frank!" Hans cried
out in concern. "What's wrong?"
Frank saw the younger man, Jason
reach to pick it up and immediately reacted. "Be careful! Don't touch the
crystal!"
"What?" Jason stared
at the Englishman who was clutching his hand, his faced etched in pain.
"The bloody thing
burns!"
"Burn?" Eric exclaimed
in astonishment. "What you do mean
burns?"
"Look," Frank held out
his hand and showed the Australian the fingers that had touched the exposed
facet.
Eric's eyes widened to see flesh
blistering and though it was not a severe burn, it was still a burn, produced
by an object could not be generating heat of any kind. However, even as the
thought flashed across his mind, Eric remembered what Petra had said about it exuding
energy levels that were not only unexplainable but also exceedingly high. She
had thought it was a new source of power and while Eric had been skeptical
about the possibility even after she had been murdered, he now wondered if she
had not been correct after all.
"This is insane," Eric
stared to mutter. "How can a rock buried under the earth for so long be
able to burn someone just by touch? Its impossible!"
"You know why," Jason
replied quietly.
"I won't believe
that!" Eric snapped, unaware that he and Jason had completely lost the two
scientists in the room listening to the conversation. "Its
ludicrous!"
"What is?" Frank
asked, beginning to empathize with Eric because the anxiety he saw on the
Australian's face was genuine. Something was rattling this man badly.
"Frank," Hans
intervened, "look at this." The doctor drew his colleague into more
familiar territory.
He led Frank to the other side
of the bench where the helmet had lain during the entire exchange. To Frank, the design was unusual and he could
not recognize it but it was hardly unusual. There were so much about the past
that was shrouded in mystery and despite the efforts of the scientific
community to explain everything logically, they could only do so with what
evidence they had. The rest was simply speculation.
"How old do you think this
is?" Hans asked.
Frank picked up the object and
examined it. He had been around
prehistoric artifacts for most of his career and though the fossilization
seemed consistent with some of the objects he had uncovered in that time, the
logical part of his brain refused to entertain the notion. This helmet was clearly made of steel and
though a proper cleaning was required for them to get a better idea of its origins,
one thing did strike him as odd. It was too large for a human skull. Since his field was the study of hominids,
that was the first thing that captured his notice. This helmet was too large
for the skull of a human, however this was easily explainable. Poor
craftsmanship but still it nagged at him, the amount of degradation in the
steel.
"If I did not know better,
I would say pre-Calcolithic but that's impossible," Frank replied.
"This is made of iron and the metal worked during that period was
copper."
"I got the confirmation
from the lab an hour ago," Hans said proudly. "This object has a
potassium argon dating of between 100 – 150 thousand years old."
Frank's eyes widened. "That
can't be."
"It is Frank," Hans
beamed like a happy child. "And that artifact which burned your fingers may
even be older. The lab could not gain an accurate reading on it."
Frank turned to Eric and Jason,
hoping that they could tell him something that would refute Han's words but it
was clear that even if Eric had difficulty accepting it, he believed everything
the Professor had said because he had already heard it from Petra Tebben.
"I'm guessing you're not
going to be able to tell us what that is," Eric frowned, the answers that
he and Jason had hoped to find were not forthcoming. So much depended on their being able to
understand the nature of the artifacts, mostly notably their lives. Eric felt a
wave of disappointment knowing that they had come all this way for nothing.
"These things are never quick Eric," Hans said patiently, aware of
how difficult it must be for someone not of the field to grasp the notion that
artifacts could take years to decipher.
"We need to do more testing and now that Frank is here, we may get
it to the bottom of what this is even sooner. It will take time but we will
find your answers, I promise you."
Hans' words were sincere but
Eric could tell by the skepticism in Frank's eyes about their chances to
uncover the truth that the Professor was being optimistic at best. Time, Eric thought himself cynically. Time
was as priceless as the artifact Professor Skogull and Doctor Miller were so
eager to decipher and Eric was gripped with the feeling that they did not have
much of it to squander.
***********
The sun had begun descending
from its noonday peak when the dark vehicles arrived at the university.
Bearing little difference from
their counterparts in Iceland, the sleek black Jaguars entered the main parking
lot of the campus as if they were their animal namesakes, circling the dark
bitumen before coming to a gradual halt.
Their appearance captured the attention of anyone in proximity, the
gleaming surface of polish metal catching the eye of bystanders under the
dwindling sunlight. Students noted in
passing the arrival of the cars, some paused long enough to see the vehicle's
halt, wondering if someone important was visiting the campus.
They were soon to learn
otherwise when they saw the five tall men that emerged in their black suits,
their faces pasty and their eyes covered beneath sunglasses. It was impossible
to look upon these men and not feel a shudder of some unexplainable fear and
students who had paused to look soon found reason to be on their way
again. The men did not ask any
questions, they did not need to and because they were not men anyway.
The Nazgul did not like the
sunlight even if they found no difficulty moving about in the waking hours.
There was little need to ask for directions to their quarry because once again,
the treasure in the possession of the humans call to them with a voice of its
own. The Nazgul could feel its immense
power radiating outward and had only to follow it to its greatest concentration
to find their prey. The humans who
possessed it had little inkling of its true nature and no idea that as long as
they kept it within reach, the Nine would always find them.
This time, there would be no
failure.
*************
With the presence of two extra
people in the house, Miranda felt it prudent to make a visit to the local
supermarket and replenish their food supplies. Being ex-military, rations were
always a priority with her and that thinking had carried on even in this
domestic situation. It always amused her
that what military men would call training, housewives called common sense. The
mindset that most homemakers had the mental faculties of Lucille Ball when in
truth, it was closer to James Bond since they had to know how to do everything.
Her guests had asked to
accompany her on her shopping trip and once again, Miranda felt her head
filling with questions she should not ask. Bryan had asked that they not ask
questions but as Miranda saw their reaction to being inside the car and how
they studied everything as if seeing it for the first time, her curiosity
surfaced once more. Who were they that
Bryan should trust them so implicitly and why couldn’t they reveal their true
origins, even if it was just the name of the place? Frank had become conditioned to not ask
questions because Bryan and while Miranda understood it to some degree, she
could not deny that the lack of knowledge made her uncomfortable.
However, despite all her question about the two men in her house, there was one
thing she knew for certain that had no basis for being but simply was. She
trusted them. When they claimed that
they would not harm her family, she believed them. Miranda was able to see past
most facades and yet when they said they could be trusted, she knew without
doubt that they had not lied. There were very few people that could engender
this sort of feeling from her. Bryan, most notably but certainly not strangers
that had entered her life a short time ago with their origins a mystery and
their behavior frankly odd.
Even now, as Miranda put away
the groceries, she glanced at the living room and saw Elladan in front of the
television watching cartoons with another can of Coke in his hand. These people
had a serious sugar craving, she had discovered since their arrival. It was hard to believe they could be capable
of keeping an intelligence operative safe from his enemies. Elrohir was exploring Miranda’s piano in the
corner of the room once more. The way
his fingers brushed the ivory keys experimentally and the manner in which he
listened to the notes made Miranda think he had never seen the instrument
before.
“Do you play?” She asked him.
“No,” he raised his eyes to
hers; “I do not. This is yours?”
“Yes,” Miranda nodded, “when I
was a little girl, my mother insisted that my sister and I learn to play. I
took it to but she was never very good.”
“Your sister?” Elrohir asked
somewhat fascinated by the whole notion of the shield maiden having a sister,
“what is she like?”
“Very different from me,”
Miranda replied recalling the sister who believed life could not go on unless
there was a shoe store in the close proximity and a good manicurists on speed
dial. “Laura lives in Paris. She’s a magazine photographer, one of those jet
setting types that fly from place to place nursemaiding anorexic models.”
Elrohir had no idea most of what she said but he suspected that
Miranda and her sister did not share a good relationship. “You are not close
then.”
“We’re sisters,” she shrugged, “we don’t have to be close.”
“That is unfortunate,” he
replied. “Family should always remain so.”
“I rather not,” she replied
shortly, always getting defensive on the subject of her sister. “I don’t need
to hear how I could have done anything with my life and decided to throw it
away on being a housewife and a mother, or joining the before that. I hear enough of that from my parents without
needing to hear it from my sister, the Vogue photographer.”