“This route was active as early as 1600 BCE,” Griffin countered. “At the height of their civilization, the Minoans maintained extensive trade networks and were known to purchase Baltic amber. It has been found in graves pre-dating 1000 BCE.”
“Sounds pretty convincing to me,” Cassie said.
“Yes, it does,” Daniel conceded.
“But you must also bear in mind that our riddle instructs us to go past the golden road of Boreas,” Griffin cautioned. “Therefore, we must look beyond the coastline for our ultimate destination.” He typed a few more keystrokes and brought a new map onscreen showing the northern half of the sea.
His listeners eagerly scanned the map for clues.
“There’s nothing there but a dead end.” Daniel seemed nonplussed.
“Your choice of words is quite apropos,” the scrivener commented. “Dead end, indeed. Look here.” He hovered the cursor over the northern edge of the Baltic which terminated in the Bay Of Bothnia.
“So, if the Baltic ends in the Bay Of Bothnia, it dies,” the pythia said. “Any islands in that area figuratively kill the sea.”
“It’s much more than proximity alone.” The scrivener increased the magnification on the screen. “The Lulea Archipelago is a chain of over seven hundred islands at the northernmost tip of the Bay Of Bothnia. These islands have a singular property. Because of fresh water run-off from rivers and streams, the salinity in the archipelago is lower than anywhere else in the Baltic—less than three percent.”
“So, the sea gives way to fresh water, and it dies in that place,” Olga said.
“This sounds like a promising lead.” Daniel gave a hopeful smile. “Is there a great river near the Lulea Archipelago?”
“I’m very glad you asked that question,” the scrivener replied archly.
Cassie rolled her eyes.
Griffin drew up another screen shot of the area. “Directly to the west of the archipelago is the coastal town of Lulea. It takes its name from the Lule River which empties into the bay there.”
“So, you must follow the great river Lule,” Olga concluded. “But to where?”
The scrivener’s jaunty attitude diminished slightly. “That’s where we reach a sticking point.” He moved the screen display to show the westward course of the Lule River. “Its headwaters end at a lake called Akkajaure.”
“A lake! That has to be a good sign!” Cassie exclaimed.
“No, it isn’t.” The scrivener sighed. “The lake is a man-made reservoir and has only existed for the past hundred years.”
Cassie leaned down and rested her hands on the table next to Griffin. “Looks like it’s time for me to do some digital dowsing.”
“Digital dowsing?” Daniel repeated skeptically. “You’re going to use your psychic abilities on a computer screen. Does that really work?”
Cassie darted him a pitying look. “If it didn’t, we wouldn’t have beat you to Lion Mountain.”
Daniel raised his hands in surrender. “I withdraw the objection.”
They all redirected their attention to the screen.
Cassie’s hand hovered over the map. She closed her eyes briefly to concentrate. When she opened them, her index finger slid over the southern edge of the man-made lake. “Show me what’s here.”
Griffin did as instructed. “The entire area seems to consist of mountain ranges inside national parks.”
“Enlarge this section a little more.” She tapped the screen. “Guys, I know we’re on the right track now. I’m feeling a really strong pull around these mountains.”
The scrivener magnified the screen further but, given the remote location, the map revealed few details other than green blots indicating various peaks.
“This! Right here!” Cassie touched a particular label.
Olga read the caption. “‘Ahkka Mountain.’”
“Let’s look it up.” Griffin typed in a search string. He took one glance at the description then turned to Cassie excitedly. “You’ve done it! This has to be the place.”
Daniel leaned over his shoulder to read. “‘Ahkka Mountain is revered by the indigenous people of northern Scandinavia as the abode of their creation goddess.’” He gasped. “Cassie, I think you may have found it.”
“Griffin and I found it.” She gave the scrivener a quick hug. “Pack your bags, Daniel. Next stop, Sweden.”
Chapter 35—Do Not Open Til Doomsday
Joshua looked up from his computer monitor when his lieutenant entered the spymaster’s office.
The man placed a cardboard box on his desk. “Sir, these are for you.”
The spymaster paused to scrutinize his visitor. Brother Matthew, his second-in-command, was staring impassively at the wall behind Joshua’s head. He was of medium height and build, the same age and dark complexion as Joshua himself but with one material difference. Matthew lacked curiosity. Not that he wasn’t intelligent. Far from it. It was just that his mental abilities were dedicated to efficiently executing orders given by his superiors. Perhaps that was a good thing. Joshua didn’t need anyone in the Order of Argus second-guessing his decisions.
He stood to open the box and inspect its contents—a dozen bright green metal water bottles. He withdrew one and stared at it with deep concern.
Brother Matthew anticipated his unspoken question. “The diviner says that these are to be distributed to the chosen men in the field.”
The chosen men were one hundred and fifty Argus agents from compounds around the world. Three at each location. Matthew had assisted Joshua in informing the men that they had been hand-picked to carry out a secret mission. Per the diviner’s orders, they had all been vaccinated against some mysterious illness the Fallen supposedly carried. Joshua found this explanation suspicious. He had traveled freely in the Fallen Lands for quite some time without contracting any disease. The fact that he was being given specious excuses by his father proved that the diviner no longer trusted Joshua. The spymaster was now as much in the dark as anybody else when it came to the prophet’s plans. The idea distressed him considerably. Losing Abraham’s trust meant that he had lost the power to influence his father, and with it, the chance to supplant Daniel as scion.
“So, Brother Matthew. My father is now communicating his orders to you instead of to me,” he observed coldly.
Matthew’s face remained expressionless. “It was simply a matter of
