Maddie found the page marked with a post-it note. She began to read aloud: “There is an ancient legend which tells of the time when misfortune befell the Minoans: earthquakes and tidal waves and barbarian invaders who forced new laws and new gods upon the people. After a time, the Minoans despaired. Thinking the goddess had abandoned them, they began to forget the old ways. A small number of those still faithful to the Lady struggled to uphold her rituals. They believed she would return to the land one day. To that end, they collected her most sacred relics which they called ‘The Bones of the Mother’ and hid them away.”
Maddie paused and looked up at Griffin quizzically. “That’s a pretty odd name for a collection of relics. ‘Bones of the Mother.’ You don’t think they’re actual human bones, do you?”
The scrivener shook his head. “Not human, no. In all likelihood, it’s a reference to objects made of stone. The expression ‘Bones of the Mother’ has a precise mythological meaning. Most ancient cultures considered the earth itself to be the mother of all. Therefore, her bones could be defined as stone or that which could be mined from stone, such as ore, gems, or crystals.”
Seemingly satisfied with the explanation, Maddie nodded. “Makes sense so far.” She turned her attention back to the journal and continued reading. “It is said that the secret to finding the Bones of the Mother can be found at the high place of the goddess. A cipher in stone waiting to be unlocked by one who holds the key. It is also said that one of the objects in this collection of treasures is the Voice of Heaven itself.”
“The Voice of Heaven is one of the many names given to the Sage Stone,” Griffin explained.
“The Sage Stone,” Faye echoed. ‘Then my worst fears have been confirmed.”
“What?” Maddie gasped. “That’s impossible. The Sage Stone is a myth. It doesn’t exist.”
“Everyone thought Troy was a myth until the ruins at Hissarlik were excavated,” countered the scrivener.
“You don’t actually think there’s something to this, do you?” Maddie asked cautiously.
“I do now,” he replied in a solemn voice. “According to the field journal, a cache of Minoan sacred objects was hidden somewhere. I think the directions for finding them have been encrypted in code on Crete and that the granite key provides the means to unlock that code. The passage you just read explicitly states that one of those sacred objects is the Sage Stone which leads me to conclude that it does, in fact, exist.”
Faye looked down at the granite key which she still held absently in her hands. “Now that we know all this, it seems even more incomprehensible that the Nephilim would pursue such artifacts. The Sage Stone is the quintessential matristic relic. Of what possible use could it be to a Christian fundamentalist cult? It’s far more likely they would dismiss both the Bones of the Mother and the Sage Stone as heathen nonsense.”
“So, what’s our next move?” Maddie asked them both.
Griffin looked at Faye. A silent message seemed to be passing between them.
Faye sighed. “It was my original intention not to take any action to retrieve relics the Nephilim wanted. Better to let them have the artifacts than to risk exposing our organization. But under the circumstances, I believe that approach would be a mistake. The Sage Stone is too significant a find for us to sacrifice. More importantly, in the hands of the Nephilim, it could be put to a very bad use. I had hoped to avoid a confrontation, but I see no recourse. It’s time to call a meeting of the Concordance.”
Chapter 27 – Hunt for the Bones
Once Daniel had cracked the first line of code, it was an easy matter to sort out the rest of the markings on the key. In consequence, Abraham was finally able to set his plan in motion. As a first step, he made an uncharacteristic journey to the Fallen Lands. On a warm spring morning, Metcalf seated himself on a bench in Millennium Park in the heart of Chicago and waited. He felt distinctly out of place. This park was a monument to the worldly folly of the Fallen. It held a distracting array of fountains, pavilions, and modern art work which tourists came to gawk at. Metcalf thought briefly of John Bunyan’s Vanity Fair. Little about Fallen nature had changed in four hundred years. He disliked the atmosphere, the noise, and the crowds, but it all suited his present purpose. The park gave him complete anonymity. He was orchestrating a delicate scheme, and he didn’t want his flock scrutinizing his activities too closely at this juncture. Some matters couldn’t be explained to them. Not just yet anyway. He looked at his wristwatch, noting that the hour for his rendezvous had arrived.
A shadow fell across Metcalf’s body as he bent his head down to check the time. He looked up to see a man standing above him. The man was wearing a cowboy hat and chewing on a toothpick. He grinned affably.
“Mornin’ boss. How y’all doin’ this fine day?”
Abraham shielded his eyes from the eastern sun and treated his companion to a rare smile. “Good morning to you, Mr. Hunt. Please have a seat.”
Hunt raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was apparently unprepared for such a cordial reception. Nevertheless, he sat down on the bench next to Metcalf and waited for an explanation.
“I have some more work for you,” Abraham began.
Leroy removed the toothpick and placed it in his coat pocket. “Well, well. That’s right kindly of you to keep me in mind for one of your little odd jobs.” He chuckled at his own choice of words. “What can I do you for?”
“I need you to accompany my son on a journey to Europe,” the old man said flatly.
Hunt appeared taken aback. “Sorry, boss, but babysittin’ ain’t in my line.”
A scowl settled
