Chapter One
Excavation
"What am I doing here?"
The question repeated itself from the lips of Eric Rowan as he swept his gaze across the arctic like landscape with its sheets of glacial ice buried under more even snowfall. Harsh winds raked across the terrain, creating a wall of snow that seemed almost blizzard like in its intensity. It was not enough that the air he was forced to breathe chilled his insides and gave him an accurate idea of what a corpse must feel but the wind picking up momentum was assailing his exposed skin ruthlessly. Granted only his face was exposed to the elements while the rest of him was buried under several layers of thermal clothing, it still felt as if he was standing naked in the middle of the tundra.
"What are you doing here?" The question was hurled at him with almost as much bite as the winds and the freezing climate.
Eric rolled his eyes in resignation and supposed that he deserved this for openly lamenting his outcast state. The sharp retort had come from Jason Merrick, his young cameraman from New Zealand who had been forced to accept exile alongside of him because he was one half of their journalistic team. Since being forced here, Jason who was normally a most affable young fellow with the occasion flares of hot temper was projecting ejecta so frequently that it was in danger of melting the snow of Iceland. The younger man shot him a disgruntled glare as he carried his camera, his nose a shade rosier than the rest of him, making him resemble one of those red nosed elves frequenting Christmas cards. Of course, making this observation known to Jason would probably end up with Eric having to remove the camera from his posterior surgically.
"Are you going to start this again?" Eric stared at him.
"Start what again?" Jason grumbled. "Remind you of the fact that the reason we've been sent here is because you decided to seduce our editor's wife?"
"I did not seduce her," Eric retorted haughtily. "The woman came on to me!"
"Eric," Jason paused and stared at him, "I know I'm younger than you but there are some things you just don't do. You don't tell a woman she's fat unless you want your spleen handed to you, you don't make sheep jokes to graziers and finally and most importantly, YOU DO NOT ATTEMPT TO BANG YOUR BOSS' WIFE EVEN IF SHE COMES ON TO YOU!"
"I had a few beers," Eric muttered and resumed walking.
"You're Australian, you always have a few beers!" Jason snapped, "it's a bloody state of being for you Ockers!"
Eric supposed he had reason to be angry. Before Iceland, they were bound for the Gulf, preparing to take part in the journalistic feast that was the present Middle Eastern war. Careers were being made and for Jason whose aspirations included being a journalist himself one day, it was an opportunity of a lifetime to enter the battle zone and be apart of some history making events. Even as jaded as he was being a journalist for Channel Nine News division the past seven years, Eric could not deny looking forward to the assignment with similar enthusiasm. However, during an office party a few days before they were to leave for the gulf, Eric had a most unfortunate encounter with their editor's beautiful wife, Dominique.
Eric was aware of Dominique's interest from previous social engagements but one too many beers had led him to throw caution to the winds and on a balcony attached to the function room the company had hired for the night, he acted on his impulses. Unfortunately, his impulse was witnessed by almost everyone on the balcony, including Dominique's humiliated husband, his immediate superior. Robert had said nothing at the time, he was too much the gentlemen to make any more of a spectacle of himself than his wife had already done. Instead, they had left abruptly leaving Eric with an understandably impending sense of doom.
The next morning he and Jason were summoned to Robert's office where they were told very politely by the man, who did an admirable job of hiding his rage, that it appeared the Americans were cutting down the number of journalists permitted to enter the war zone. Seniority demanded that he and Jason be the casualties of this shortened list. Instead of the warm Gulf, they were being sent to Iceland to do a human-interest story on an excavation that was taking place in the Temple Glacier in the heart of the country. Eric had made no effort to protest the assignment, perfectly aware that he deserved the punishment because Robert could have fired him. Eric was certain that there was something in his contract about moral turpitude that would permit such a course.
"You know what your problem is?" Jason continued speaking, "you're like this with all women!"
"I am not," Eric defended himself as they made their way across the snow covered plain to the top of the glacier. The dig was supposedly taking place within the collapsed cone of what was formally a volcano. It was now filled with snow instead of lava (fortunately) and the bulk of the work was being undertaken almost half a mile beneath the surface. Even as they approached the apex, they could see the campsite the archaeologists retired to when the day's work was done. Colorful tents made for cold weather broke the magnificent line of snow and sky. He could see fold up chairs, lamps and other pieces of equipment stretching across the encampment.
"Oh really," Jason hissed, "how many times have you called the women on that encyclopedia you call a black book, more than once?"
Eric wondered if this was going to be the topic of conversation between himself and Jason for the next year. It was not his fault that women found him attractive. Compared to Jason, he was tall almost 6'2, with dark hair and overly intense hazel eyes. The fact that his look was rugged and his lean form was almost always sheathed in jeans and loose denim shirts, ensured he never had to look far for female company. Unfortunately, as he was now starting to learn, this was not always a good thing.
"Look, can we talk about this later?" he declared as he saw a figure emerge from one of the tents.
The person, clad in a heavy parka with a hood that made it difficult to discern if it was male or female, waved upon catching sight of them. Eric took a deep breath, telling himself the sooner they get this story over with the better. Trudging up the side of the volcano, he could see his breath escaping in puffs of vapor and drove home his longing for the delicious Australian heat even more acutely. He supposed this was part of Robert's revenge; to send him as far away from Cronulla Beach so that his favorite past time of surfing would seem like a distant dream in this desolate place.
"Mr Rowan?" Their liaison, which they found out upon closer observation was female, extended a gloved hand towards him.
"That's right, I'm Eric and this is my camera man Jason Merrick," Eric introduced himself politely to what appeared to be a young woman in her twenties. It was difficult to discern anything else about her because only her face was exposed to the elements. Considering the temperature was somewhere in the minuses, it was hardly surprising and completely understandable. "We're from Channel Nine News, Sydney."
"We've been expecting you," the young lady with a Scandinavian accent replied as she gave both Eric and Jason a nod of acknowledgement. "My name is Freya. Doctor Tebben asked me to take you down to the site when you arrived."
"Thank you," Eric flashed her his most charming smile, "you speak very good English."
The girl blushed beneath the Australian's charming smile before replying, "I lived in England with my parents for many years, so I had to learn."
"Well you learnt well," Eric replied, wondered briefly what she looked like beneath all that thermal padding.
She threw him an equally alluring smile before turning towards the snow filled mouth of the glacier, "if you follow me please?"
Eric started to follow her when he saw the knowing look on Jason's face.
"What?" Eric replied defensively.
The cameraman shook his head and grunted softly as he walked past Eric, "the prosecution rests."
***********
The excavation required them to travel into the mouth of the crater. Once past its edge, the inner walls revealed a steep descent that was almost a sheer drop of several hundred meters. Only experienced rock climbers could make the effort to lower themselves into the chasm without serious injury. Fortunately, John Malcolm's generous grant had ensured his research team did not have to undertake such a dangerous journey in order to reach the surface or the depths of the crater. A suspension lift or funicular like those used to ferry skiers to prime ski tracks in the mountain had been built for the convenience of the archaeological team.
Eric had been less than impressed about climbing into the contraption, which by his reckoning was rather fragile looking. It was little more than a boxed steel frame connected to a hoist and operated by a two or three large but unimpressive looking buttons. That it rattled when the three climbed into it did not fill him with confidence as to its reliability. However, he was forced to bite his tongue because Freya convinced them both that the lift was perfectly safe. Since plunging to his death carrying out this assignment was infinitely less painful than telling his boss (whose wife he had been caught groping) that he was too terrified to get into a lift, Eric climbed in without further complaint. Fortunately, he derived some measure of satisfaction in seeing the same reluctance from Jason as he stepped into the contraption.
Once Freya sent the lift on its way, Eric had to confess that his trepidation eased somewhat since the lift continued its downward journey with little incident. In order to take his mind off the journey and a slight case of vertigo, Jason had begun filming their descent towards the excavation site while Eric took the opportunity to learn a little more about the work conducted. In truth, when he and Jason had been handed this assignment, he had not considered the possibility of there being a story here in the frozen plains of Iceland. However, as he noted the depths into which they were descending, he wondered if perhaps he might have been incorrect about this original assessment.
"I understand that you have been studying ice samples," Eric asked Freya; his eyes fixed on the sunlight above which was slowly shrinking as they were lowered deeper into the chasm. Save for a small light inside the mesh, they would be bathed in darkness once they moved out of the sun's reach.
"It began as ice samples," Freya explained enthusiastically, "but now it artifacts."
"Artifacts?" Eric raised a brow. "Here?"
"Yes," Freya said with barely concealed smile of excitement, "most of us specialize in stratigraphy and geology so our primary interest is the study of ice layers through the ages. We were expected our discoveries to be limited to pollen, perhaps fossilized vegetable matter or trace elements in the ice left over from atmospheric changes in the weather, nothing as prolific as an actual artifact or a man made object that predates the known colonization date of Iceland."
"Really?" Jason exclaimed. "Its older than 800 AD?"
Eric looked at him with mild surprise.
"I read the brochures on the plane," Jason retorted before turning back to Freya.
"Your cameraman is correct," Freya nodded, "we are at a loss to explain it. We've been working on some particular pieces for the last month and we have never seen anything like it. Doctor Tebben is very excited, she is certain we are on the brink of an amazing find."
"I'll look forward to see them," Eric returned. "It must be fortunate that your grant is so generous. Not many teams I've come across have portable lifts like this."
"Doctor Tebben says that we are very fortunate that Malcolm Industries has such confidence in the research," Freya replied. "But in all truth, I do not know much about the financial side of things. I am merely a research assistant and Doctor Tebben handles these matters personally."
"I understand," Eric answered neutrally although his interest was well and truly piqued in learning that a global conglomerate like Malcolm Industries was funding this entire expedition. It was not often that a company handed what seemed like a blank cheque to an archaeological team, not unless it expected to be very well compensated. The journalist in him was too cynical to believe that Malcolm Industries' reasons for funding this excavation was purely for the pursuit of scientific discovery.
Perhaps, there was a story here after all, just not the one his editor had expected.
***********
It did not take long for them to reach the bottom of the chasm and as Eric gazed upwards into the distant sky, he did not like the idea that should anything happen to the contraption that brought them here, there would be no way out. He did not point out this observation to Jason who had avoided looking up or down during the trip in the lift. Jason was a good kid who had been with him through some rather hairy situations during the past four years. He had become his Eric's cameraman during the Chechnya War in 1999. It was not an easy assignment for one as green as Jason had been when they first arrived in the war torn country. However, Jason had managed to keep his head in the face of some rather horrific atrocities carried out by both Russian and rebel forces alike.
Quite frankly, Eric was uncertain if he would be able to go the distance because Jason was less than a year out of college and had spent most of his short career as an assistant cameraman on a minor magazine show. His promotion had come because Eric had needed a cameraman immediately and Jason had been willing to work in a place where Russian soldiers ripped apart female snipers with armored transports to find release. The risk factor had been high, despite the opportunity for career advancement. However, something about Jason had struck Eric during their initial meeting that gave the older man confidence that this was someone who would not only work alongside of him but also watch his back if necessary.
It was an accurate assessment since there were numerous occasion in the past when it was felt like Jason was the more levelheaded member of their duo.
Freya led them through a series of ice filled catacombs and despite the icy coldness biting into their skins, the temperature was not as severe as it had been on the surface. The depths protected them from the harsh blizzard winds but Iceland was a haven of geo-thermal activity and whilst the Temple Glacier had been deemed dormant, there were many fissure containing hot gasses that could accidentally rupture at any point. The archaeology team was equipped with seismic equipment that would raise the alarm in such an instance and it was partially for this reason that the funicular had been installed. It would allow for a hasty departure if such a danger became eminent.
"You smell something here?" Jason asked as they followed Freya through the passageway leading to the excavation site. Thanks torches along the wall they were not completely shrouded in darkness. Still the torches could provide little more than dim illumination. In the distance, they could hear voices echoing and guessed that these most likely belonged to the rest of the team.
"I do," Eric answered quietly, having no wish to be heard. "Since when do companies like Malcolm Industries fund archaeological digs trying to uncover pollen in ice samples? There's more to this than meets the eyes. My nose sniffs it."
"You sure it's not the girl?" Jason quipped, unable to let that remark pass without comment.
"Why are you still working for me?" Eric gave him a look.
"Cause I'm the only one who put up with your shit without bloody well killing you in your sleep?" Jason retorted.
"Oh yeah," Eric grinned and returned to the subject at hand. "Besides I want to know why we were called in to cover this story."
Jason opened his mouth to answer but Eric cut him off.
"Other than me groping our boss' wife that is," Eric declared. "If this is big, why invite a couple of journos in here? Most companies like to sit on their secrets until their PR people release it in a nice, marketable package. This doesn't sound like a company spin."
Jason did not refute Eric's observations. The man may have been a hopeless womanizer but his reputation was one of Australia's best investigative journalists was not exactly undeserved. Behind his charming and somewhat disarming manner, particularly around the ladies, Jason was aware of the sharp intellect that had the ability to strip away inconsistencies and inaccuracies to uncover the irrefutable truth. With Eric, it was not all about the story but also the truth. Part of the younger man's reason for remaining Eric Rowan's cameraman was the fact that Jason believed he was learning his craft from the best.
They reached the end of their journey when Eric and Jason saw Freya leading them to a large cavern that was well lit. The echoes of voices emanated from here and as they approached, began to discern that there was a group of people working diligently within it. He could hear their voices, their footsteps and the sound of their tools against the ice. He wondered how many of them there were and long their day lasted. It was still daylight and wondered if these people did not feel somewhat cloistered away from the world in this rather inhospitable place.
Arriving at the entrance of the cavern, Eric saw that there were at least seven members of the research team. Their sexes were difficult to determine because all of them were clad in cold weather gear that somewhat stripped the characteristics of gender for those who did not know them. The cavern was obviously their base camp since the concentration of equipment and personnel was fixed on this point. No doubt they used this place as their beachhead for the further exploration of the caves. All eyes turned to them as they arrived and worked stopped. Small hammers and tools were lowered and instruments were temporarily ignored for the purpose of viewing briefly the new arrivals in their midst.
Like all her colleagues, Doctor Petra Tebben was clad in thick, cold weather gear. She was very much the Nordic beauty for her face was pale and the thin line of her eyebrows were white gold. She looked at him with full blue eyes and her pink lips stretched into a smile when she extended her hand towards him.
"Mr Rowan," she said politely.
"You must be Doctor Tebben," Eric answered grasping her gloved hand in greeting. "This is my cameraman Jason Merrick."
"Please to meet you Mr Merrick," she nodded in his direction before turning her eyes back to Eric, "please call me Petra."
"My pleasure," he said politely.
For the next few minutes, Petra went through the motions of introducing her research staff, their fields and their backgrounds before dismissing Freya to take charge of them personally. She led them to a fold up table that apparently acted as their ration counter and provided them both with a steaming cup of coffee, a godsend in Eric's opinion almost as good as beer. Almost.
"Freya tells me that you've made some astonishing discoveries down here," Eric commented.
"Yes," Petra nodded enthusiastically. "Its quite amazing actually. I came here because I found trace elements in the ice core samples I acquired during a previous excavation that do not have the same spectra as any element I've ever seen."
"I'm sorry," Eric looked at her blankly. "I'm afraid this is not my field of expertise, you're going to have to give it to me in laymen's terms."
"Of course," she replied, "I sometimes forget that there are people in this world who do not live in academia. Every element in the periodic table has its own spectra. Each one is unique and under analysis, instruments are meant to be able to identify each one of them. We have detected something that isn't identifiable."
"You mean a new element?" Eric's brow shot up in amazement.
"Or perhaps a very old one," she countered.
"Freya said you found artifacts," Jason added becoming more intrigued by the moment.
This was by no means the kind of story that could land him a Pulitzer Prize but it was an important discovery that was being made here and Eric began to become and more enthused by what he was hearing.
"Yes," Petra nodded, grateful that the men seemed genuinely interested in the work, beyond professional interest. "If you follow me, I'll show you."
"That would be great," Eric replied and then glanced at Jason, "get some shots of all this would you?"
"Sure," Jason nodded obediently and hoisted his camera to his shoulder to begin filming the surrounding excavation site.
As he did so, some of the researchers waved playfully into the camera, pausing long enough to indulge themselves in a little bit of absurdity. Some spoke to the camera, uttering the Norwegian translation of 'hello mum and dad' and posing for dramatic effect, all of which was great footage as far as the young Kiwi was concerned. It would add a humanizing element to the story when the final cut was made.
When Jason finally reached Petra and Eric once more, the doctor was standing at another fold up table. She was reaching into a steel box after releasing the locks and handling the contents with great care. Jason immediately directed the camera at the object she removed from inside it. The artifact that had caused this excavation such great excitement appeared for all intensive purposes a helmet. It was extremely tarnished but the shape was unmistakable.
"It is a helmet isn't it?" Eric asked, stating the obvious.
"We call it a helm. It is very unusual because is has a visor that covers the eyes. The technique was developed to some degree by the Romans and perfected by the middle ages but this design is unknown to us."
"It could be possible that the ancient races got here before the colonization by the Irish monks." Jason offered.
"This is what I get when I choose to watch the in-flight movie instead of catching up on my reading," Eric retorted, impressed by his younger friend's acumen.
"We thought that," Petra replied, "but then we put it through potassium argon dating and what we found was very exciting. At first we thought the machine was malfunctioning. We went through three of them before we decided that it wasn't. It has a potassium argon date of one hundred and fifty thousand years."
Eric was no archaeologist but even he was staggered by that piece of news. "How is that possible? I thought we were still in the Stone Age then."
"By all rights, this should not exist. Recorded history proves that we did not work metal of any kind until the Calcolithic Age where copper was used and that was between 6000 and 3000 BC. This was made during Pliocene and before the Paleolithic, the age of the hunter gatherers."
"So we've been wrong about the earliest civilizations?" Eric asked, envisioning how he was going to write this particular story.
"I do not believe so," Petra answered reaching for the helmet, "try and put it over your head."
Eric stared at her. "I beg your pardon?"
"Please," she insisted with a knowing smile. "We have run all the tests on it we can. You won't be affecting its integrity in anyway."
"Go on," Jason insisted, aiming the camera at Eric as he spoke.
Eric frowned and removed the hood of his parka. Cold air assaulted his ears and turned it a shade redder he was certain. He picked up the helmet and stared at it dubiously, before lowering it about his head.
"I always pictured you as this tall, blond Viking type," Jason sniggered from behind the camera.
"Bugger off," Eric retorted and settled the helmet over his head. He did not like the smell and he could not see properly out of it. It took a moment of attempted adjustments before he discerned why.
"Its too big," he complained. "How the hell is anyone supposed to see out of it?"
"Precisely," Petra said smugly, "it is too big for a human skull."
Eric took the thing off his head and stared at the woman, "are you saying this isn't made for a human?"
"The cranium required to fit that comfortably is too large for a human, even if someone built it with added space. I even considered that it might be for another species, a Neanderthal perhaps. Their cranium capacity was larger than Cro-Magnon man but the size was too big even for that. You saw for yourself." Petra declared.
"You can prove this?" Eric stared at her, not wishing to break the story if it was going to be refuted by every archeologist in the scientific community. It was something of a leap to go from an oversize helmet, no matter how old it was, to the possibility that it may have been created by another evolved species of which they had no previous knowledge.
"I do not need to," Petra said with a smile, "we found something else."
*************
The Hydrostatic Snow Cat started to slow some distance from the campsite.
In size, it was considerably larger than the vehicle used by Eric Rowan and Jason Merrick to reach the excavation site. It moved silently, a sleek, black engine of efficiency as it glided across the snow. Against the pristine white plains of the glacier, it was difficult to ignore the vehicle, its shiny black exterior gleaming beneath the sunlight. It had been travelling this course for some time now, its agenda secret almost as secret as the occupants within. For once, there was no danger of being seen. In this wilderness, it was easy to believe that there was no one else in this world.
For he who was known as Morgul among his brothers, the isolation would prove most useful in what needed to be done.
He could sense the power emanating from their destination, it breathed beneath the earth with a strength that could almost rival their connection to their master if he were not lost. When they were far away, the power felt distant and vague. Now that they neared it, it had grown in strength, until its radiance was like the stars in the sky. The irony of that description was not lost upon Morgul, once called the Witch King of Angmar. To his brothers, this was yet another demeaning task set out by the master's woman, the human agent who walked where they could not, whose aid they were forced to accept in order function in this strange mechanized world they had been brought into by the Master following his resurrection.
It had been somewhat discerning for the Nine to awaken in this strange land, so far removed the world they had known and found not even their lord was free of servitude. The Master served the Dark One, the Exile from whom all evil had come. Although they pledged their allegiance to the Exile, in truth they served without question, the one who had made them what they were. Now both were gone. The Exile or Malcolm as he was known in his most recent incarnation, was destroyed so utterly that it was likely that he no longer existed anywhere in Ea. The Master had suspected the Exile had been commended into the hands of Iluvutar himself and what the creator of all chose to do with his errant child was for his knowing only.
The Master was not destroyed as the Exile had been but he was well beyond their reach nonetheless. For six months after he was taken from them, they sought far and wide and found nothing. Bryan Miller, the human who had vaporized them in their Master's domain and sent then back to the shadow world to restore themselves, had ensured that there would be no trail to follow. With great reluctance, Morgul was forced to accept that the enemy had taken the their Master through the barrier that separated the Undying lands from the world. It was the one place they could no go to retrieve him. The woman whose bidding they were forced to carry out, whose desire to find the Master rivaled theirs in intensity had sent them on this mission because they had exhausted all other avenues of hope.
Hope, it was an odd thing for a Nazgul to feel but it was the truth. Without the Master, their phantom souls felt less tangible than ever. It was like craving air but not being able to die of suffocation. The emptiness of his absence was gnawing at them, an itch against the skin that burrowed deep into the flesh and tormented them with each waking moment. The Master had created them well, had bound them to him in chains so strong that not even death could free them. The woman, Irina had told them that what awaited beneath the caverns of Iceland was important. As Morgul and his brothers neared the open mouth of the once dead volcano turned glacier, he could sense the power that made him understand what plan she had in mind.
For a human, he had to concede her genius and wondered if this was the reason why she was so favored by the Master.
The Nine had never understood the Master's need for the woman but understanding was not what he required of them. The Nine was his sword and his will. What the woman was to him was a mystery and entirely the Master's affair. The Nine's present allegiance to her was out of mutual need. They needed her to retrieve the Master. It did not matter what came after. The time for debating that question could retreat in the shadow world of Morgul's mind until after they had completed their task.
They did not feel the icy cold as they stepped out of the vehicle, dressed in their non-descript suit of black, identical from one another. A witness charting their movement across the snow would feel a cold chill shuddering through them that had little to do with the cold. They moved across the plain like shadows in the daylight, an abomination breathing life in dark Armani. The Nine did not feel comfortable moving about in the light of day but it was necessary to undertake the task quickly thanks to the added complication that Irina had explained to them when they were sent here.
"Do you feel it?" One of his brothers asked as the crater loomed and the sensation bombarded them like colors of the rainbow. They had heard the legends but experiencing it for the first time was unsettling. It made them anxious, a most curious sensation.
"Yes," Morgul nodded, grateful for the sunglasses that filtered the glaring white glare of the snow, "it burns."
***********
Unlike the helm that had been contained in a secure box and was rather easy to identify, the find upon which Petra was basing all her hopes appeared to be little more than a rock no larger than his palm with no discernible value. Its importance however was established soon enough once Eric and Jason were allowed to make a closer inspection. The young man with frizzy brown hair and thick glasses, working diligently to remove the layers of rock and sediment surrounding the artifact had uncovered a tiny section of it. . His meticulous and laborious effort had allowed them a glimpse of the artifact's true appearance.
What lay beneath the fossilized dirt and stone was the facet of a jewel, possibly the largest ruby the world had ever seen. It gleamed in crimson light, reminding Eric absurdly of the red light pens used in presentations. The outpouring beam captured the eyes and one could not help but become lost in its power. For a brief moment, it felt as if its light was piercing the walls of his skill, infecting his brain with its promised beauty.
"Is that a ruby?" Eric looked away after a moment. He was forced to blink and turn away. Jason was still staring at it.
"It does have that effect on you doesn't it?" Petra said in perfect empathy, remembering how she had been similarly transfixed when Gunther had first exposed that small portion of it.
"It is amazing," Eric replied. However, he sensed that Petra's enthusiasm was not simply due to the discovery of a ruby, if that was what this artifact was. "So is it a ruby?" He repeated the question.
"I don't believe so. The spectral analysis does not support it. It may seem like a ruby but it is not one," Petra answered sincerely, "however, the energy readings emanating from it is phenomenal. At first we thought it could be radioactive but the scans we've been able to make tell us that it is not an actinide. We examined it with an electron microscope and its composition resembles a crystal more than any mineral of the corundum family. However, crystals do not radiate energy and certainly not in the levels this is producing."
"Is it harmful?" Eric asked and noted that Jason had taken a step backward as soon as the word radioactive was mentioned. For the first time, Eric observed the instruments around the workbench and realized a great deal of analysis had preceded the restoration work.
"Not that we've been able to find," Petra answered. "Usually exposure to radiation produces overt physical reactions but none of the team has displayed any effects of the kind. Just to be safe, no one handles the artifact without proper safety gloves and we conduct regular medical examinations of anyone coming into contact with it on a prolonged basis.
"So what kind of energy is it?" Eric inquired, his eyes shifting back to the artifact, searching for that crimson gleam once more.
"We have yet to determine that," Petra answered, happy that the journalist was seeing the importance of the discovery, not just another curiosity of academia. "However, we are very excited at the possibilities. We could be on the verge of discovering a new source of power. It the artifact is this small and capable of producing such high energy levels, imagine what it could do in large quantities? We could be lighting cities with a relatively small amount of this substance."
"You're assuming that there is more?" he turned to her, thinking that was something of a leap.
"I hope there is," she replied.
"I am rather surprised that Malcolm Industries would invite the media into this," Eric pointed out while Jason was busily filming the work conducted on the artifact. "If this is the case, they're on the verge of a virtual fortune. I would think they would want to keep it quiet for a while."
Petra's expression wavered just enough for Eric to catch it and suddenly, he had the strangest suspicion that perhaps things were not as he believed them to be. The woman swallowed thickly, aware that he had caught her lapse and appeared for a moment, deep in thought as she debated whether or not she should take him into her confidence. She took a step away from the table, her eyes meeting Eric's long enough to ask him to join her before moving away from it entirely. The journalist followed her to a quiet corner, marveling inwardly at the treasure throve this story was evolving into. His boss had thought sending him here to cover what was essentially a piece that got buried at the tail end of the news would be punishment for his sins. Eric was going to have great pleasure telling Robert how wrong he was.
"You have something to tell me?" He looked at her in expectation.
"Yes," Petra nodded guiltily. "It was not Malcolm Industries that requested your presence here. I made the call to bring a news team here?"
"Why?" Eric asked quietly, wondering what else Petra had hidden from her colleagues.
"They don't believe in the work and they want us to stop. I thought that if I contacted a news team that was somewhat off the beaten track, Malcolm Industries would not notice until the story was released and the find were revealed to the world. Then they would have no choice but to let the work continue and they cannot steal credit from me."
It made sense. He had wondered why an Australian new team had been invited to cover a story in Iceland. At the time, he had not thought past Robert's motivation of vengeance but there was certain logic to what she was claiming. If she wished to reveal her find to world without interference from Malcolm Industries, then the best way to do so was to approach a news organization that was not local. The fact that he would be usurping some corporation's big moment amused him to no end and if she had been the driving force behind the work conducted here, Eric saw no reason why she should not share in the celebrity that came with the tremendous discovery. Scientists lived on research grants and the acclaim for she had found here would ensure that she never had to worry about funding again.
Even though he was loathed to admit it, there was a chivalrous streak in Eric that enjoyed coming to the assistance of a damsel in distress. Sure he was an utter bastard after bedding them but this intention to come to a lady's aid was one of the few redeeming features in his altogether abysmal relationship with women.
"A story is a story," Eric replied after a moment, flashing her a genuine smile of reassurance, "the source doesn't really matter."
Petra's smile revealed her pleasure at his statement but her joy was short lived as her gaze shifted to the entrance of the cavern.
It was as if they had stepped out of the shadows. There was no warning of their arrival. They appeared at the mouth of the cavern as if they were shadows emerging from the dark. Judging by the expression on Petra's face, Eric gathered quickly that the appearance of these strange men in their dark suits, hats and sunglasses, completely oblivious to the freezing temperatures, were unexpected guests.
"Who are you?" Petra crossed the floor as all eyes raised to meet them.
Eric counted nine of them. They were tall men with pasty white face, clad in the same clothes as if it were a uniform. For a moment, Eric wondered if they were the infamous Men in Black, the chief antagonist in almost every UFO movie made. They seemed expressionless and his inability to see their eyes made Eric shudder with a chill he could not explain. The cold did not seem to effect them at all, particularly in their inappropriate clothing. Eric watched as they surveyed the scene in an almost obligatory fashion, paying little heed to Petra's demand for an explanation.
"What's going on?" Jason asked coming alongside Eric.
"I don't know," Eric shook his head, "but I have a real bad feeling about this."
No sooner than the words had left his mouth he saw Petra reach the leader of the group.
"This is a private excavation. You have no right to be here," she declared hotly.
The stranger looked at her, cocking his head to the side slightly as if she were merely curiosity before looking over his shoulder at his companions. He did not speak. He simply nodded.
And when he was done nodding, he produced a gun and opened fire.
Eric could only watch in horror as the bullet slammed into Petra's skull and killed her with one shot. She had no time to scream, no time to realize that she was the opening act to a much greater drama and her role in it was done. Blood splattered across the white snow as pandemonium erupted in the room in a chaotic blend of screams and gunshots. The scientists were scattering in all directions but their only means of escaped was blocked by their mysterious assailants. Eric watched as bullets tore through the bodies of those around him and it was but a split second before his brain was motivated into acting but for that brief lapse, he saw blood everywhere and bodies falling to the ground. He saw Freya screaming in terror, just before she was torn apart by the Uzi wielded effectively by the enemy.
"Come on!" Eric grabbed Jason who was staring in astonishment by the terrible turn of events.
The young man stumbled forward just as a riddle of bullets slammed past him, killing Gunther who had left the artifact and had been trying to make cover. More than half the research was dead by this point as Eric thought quickly for a way out of this nightmarish situation. Suddenly, he saw the leader of them lower his weapon and stare directly at Jason. The man seemed to stiffen for a moment before his body began to tremble. Jason seemed to know that he had become the focus because the younger man was staring back at the enemy, his green eyes locked with the man.
"Move!" Eric replied, pulling him by the arm after making the decision that the only way out was the way they came. Somehow, they were going to have to get past these men.
"PERIANNATH!" The man shouted in fury and surged towards Jason. He moved so quickly that when Eric blinked again, he was upon them.
"Get away from him!" Eric hissed and rushed the man who had set his sights on Jason, God only knew why.
The man lashed out. His fist caught Eric beneath the jaw and sent him halfway across the cavern from that powerful blow. Eric felt his face flare in pain, was certain that his jaw was broken and it was not, had come terribly close to it. His landing was broken painfully by a table. The Australian felt the collapsible table beneath him give way under his weight and crashed loudly as he landed on the hard ground. Eric's head was swimming but the shattering sound of gunfire served to prompt his senses back to coherence with speed.
When Jason saw Eric flung across the room, his own rage had been provoked and he slammed his camera against the man, not caring about the film he was going to be destroying in the process. The man took the blow as if it were nothing and swatted him aside like he were a child. He staggered backwards, crushing the table where Gunther had worked, landing on the floor long enough to see the scientists body staring vacantly into nothingness, his blood a contrasting pool against the ice. However, it was not that which caught Jason's eye but the artifact that was inches away from him, its gleam catching his attention once again. A thought struck Jason at that instant.
This was what they wanted.
Uncertain of what compelled him, he reached for it quickly, his hand enveloping the rock in a movement that appeared as if he were trying to stand up. Enclosing it in his gloved fist, Jason had barely enough time to store it in his pocket before feeling hands dragging him to his feet by the back of his parka. Whether or not the enemy had witnessed this was a question that would be answered soon enough.
"It has been a long time hobbit," the leader spoke and for the first time Jason realized that the face staring at him was a mask, not unlike that sported in several dozen Halloween film by the infamous Michael Myers. He stared into the dark sunglasses and saw his own reflection. For some strange reason, Jason knew that if he were to stare into the enemy's eyes, he would see the same thing. Emptiness. The man's voice was a hoarse whisper, like the sound of escaping gas hissing into the atmosphere, poisoning it with malevolence.
"What are you talking about?" Jason grunted as he felt hands digging into his throat. He was being lifted off the ground, his feet dangling beneath him. He struggled to break free but the grip upon him was merciless and powerful indeed. He could feel the air forced out of his throat, his lungs gasping for fresh oxygen.
"Is she here too?" The enemy demanded almost hysterically. "Is the shield bitch here too?"
"You're crazy!" Jason shouted unable to comprehend what this man was trying to say. In desperation, Jason lashed out and tore the sunglasses from his attacker's face.
What he saw beneath it drove all sense from his world.
They were not eyes. They were crimson points of light, very different indeed from what he had seen emanating from the artifact. That had the power to reach into the soul and unleash a world of possibility. All this could do was drive sense from his mind with nothing less than terror. What he saw into those fiery depths was branded on to his psyche, he doubted if he would ever be able to sleep again without seeing them in his nightmares.
"What are you?" Jason managed to say.
"You will die wondering, periannath," the enemy hissed.
"Or you will!" Eric shouted, appearing out of nowhere.
The older man was carrying the helm that Petra had shown them with such pride. Eric had grabbed it because he had needed a weapon and at the time, it was all that had he could find. Smashing it against the body of Jason's attacker, the stranger shouted in pain and the section of helmet that had made contact with him sizzled with smoke. Jason tumbled to the ground, gasping for breath now that his airways were free again. He saw Eric slam the helmet against the man's head, causing him to fall forward.
"Come on!" Eric shouted.
The others assailant were turning their attention to them and Eric knew that if did not get out now, they would die here with the rest of the research team.
Jason nodded and scrambled to his feet. Guns were being aimed at them as the bullets tore through the air in an effort to halt their progress. He felt projectiles whizzing past him and felt the rip at his shoulder when a bullet tore through the fabric of his parka, barely missing his flesh. Eric was leading the way, somehow managing to avoid the gunfire as they reached the mouth of the cavern. Jason could hear the enemy behind them, screaming at his comrades to give pursuit. The young cameraman prayed that Eric's photographic memory could lead them back the way they came.
If not for the torches, it was likely that they would have been lost but Eric was nowhere confident that they may escape this place with their lives. He had seen some things in his life that made no sense. The brutality of man did not surprise him in the least. After places like Kosovo, Rwanda and Chechnya, Eric had seen enough blood spilled to last a lifetime but there was something about the slaughter they had just witnessed that frightened him to the core. The assassins had been stone killers the likes of which he had never seen and when one of them had singled out Jason for no apparent reason, Eric had been prompted to act out of sheer terror.
"Are they behind us?" He asked as he navigated the tunnels that brought him back to the lift.
A barrage of gunfire echoing down the hallway was answer enough.
"I would say that's a yes," Jason retorted.
An unearthly screech traveled up the passageway as they hurried forward, their progress hindered because the ice was slippery and the breadcrumbs of torches were dim and provided little visibility. The tunnel amplified the sounds in the passageway and it chilled their blood when they heard the pursuing footsteps of the enemy. Eric's stomach knotted further with apprehension, thinking that it would be a minor miracle if they escaped this stygian place with their lives. As it was, Eric was rather amazed that they were lying on the ice in that cavern, dead with the rest of the archaeological team. Perhaps it was due to seven years of being a field reporter in some of the worst places on earth that had given him the edge to make it this far. He hoped that edge was enough because for a hit like this, the assassins could leave no witnesses behind.
However, it appeared fortune was with them because they saw the passage empty into the bottom of the chasm. The faint light of the distant sky had provided some illumination and the lift, the contraption which he had been certain would kill them on the way here, had suddenly become their only means of survival. It was just as well because they could hear the enemy closing in on them. Their footsteps were looming and the intensity of bullets they were weaving about in the narrow passageway had increased.
"Get in!" Eric ordered Jason as they reached the lift. The younger man obeyed without question as Eric glanced anxiously at the passageway. He could see shadows flickering against the walls and knew that they would escape with barely a moment to spare. No sooner than Jason had stepped inside the mesh frame, Eric followed suit. He pulled the flimsy door shut as Jason fumbled for the buttons that would activate its upward descent. His fingers had just depressed the button when the assassins appeared.
The lift began moving upwards as they opened fire, with Eric and Jason dropping to the floor of the frame and causing it to swing precariously by the sudden motion. Bullets riddled the walls, filling the chasm with the thundering noise of gunfire. Some of the deadly projectiles struck the mesh and continued on its path. One of the bullets had actually nicked the side of Eric's ear. The newsman hissed in pain, feeling warm blood coursing down his neck but grateful that the injury was not more severe. The enemy continued to shoot, forcing Jason and Eric to shift constantly in the small space to avoid being hit but fortunately, the lift continued its descent, oblivious to the predicament of its occupants.
"You've been shot!" Jason exclaimed as the increasing sunlight thanks to their approach to the surface, allowed him to see more clearly.
"Its nothing," Eric shrugged, touching his ear and flinching at the sting of pain. "Once we get up there, we're going to have disable this thing so those bastards can't come after us."
"What about survivors?" Jason asked. "Maybe some of the research team.."
"They're all dead Jason," Eric met Jason's eyes and spoke firmly, "those men were carrying out an order of execution that almost included us, I don't think they would leave anyone alive down there to talk about it. In any case, we don't have a choice. If we want to get out of here alive, we're going to need time to put some distance between us and those bastards."
"They were after this," Jason declared, somewhat overwhelmed by everything that happened. He reached into his pocket and produced the artifact.
"You took it?" Eric's brow shot up at the sight of the fractionally exposed jewel.
"I couldn't let them have it," Jason replied, uncertain why he had taken it but knowing only that those men, no, not men, those things, could not be allowed to gain possession. "I just couldn't."
"Well we'll figure out why they were so eager to get their hands on it later," Eric declared, brushing aside the artifact for the moment because the business of getting back to civilization alive was their primary concern.
Jason nodded in agreement, his eyes staring into the darkness below them and wondering silently, what a periannath was.
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