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Story Notes:

Please feel free to review and offer feedback, i am always looking to enhance my writing skills.

Author's Chapter Notes:

A lot of early preamble, the next installment will be more dynamic.

The Book

Arthur Thelwell had dedicated his sixty one years of life to intellectual pursuits. By the age of thirty one he was an accomplished academic, speaking more than a dozen languages and possessing a doctorate in both archaeology and Eurasian history. He spent some years teaching at a prestigious university in England before travelling on the lecture circuit. He was also called in as a specialist on half a dozen archaeological finds in the Middle East. At the age of fifty four he was approached by representatives from a primarily fraternal order calling themselves the Disciples of the Hidden Path. The organization was clandestine in nature and secretly held significant sway in several fortune 500 companies. He was asked to conduct some research on their behalf. He hemmed and hawed, not giving the idea much credence until they revealed to him the existence of what they classified as arcanic lore – magic, real magic. The revelation and demonstration of ‘magic’ was enough to pique his intellectual curiosity and he was captivated by the prospect of delving into heretofore unknown arcanic lore. Within a year, he was formally indoctrinated into the group. His knowledge and keen mind allowed him to quickly ascend the internal hierarchy of the sacerdotal organization. The Disciples of the Hidden Path were ruled by founder Samuel Halston III, Grandmaster Thaumaturge. After him, the upper echelon of the group possessed three tiers of members called Adherents, each consisting of nine people, then there were nine orders or centuries of Dedicants, each comprised of one hundred members, and lastly there were Applicants and they numbered many. Arthur quickly attained the formal rank of Adherent First Tier (being the premiere rank), 8th Mantle (eighth in power on that tier). Of the over three thousand members, he was in the top ten and found himself part of the ruling inner circle. As such, he was afforded the latitude to develop his own society projects, always aimed at furthering the organizations understanding of the arcane as per Samuel Halston III directives.

For the last two years, Arthur had been in Ancyra, modern day Ankara, Turkey. Mainstream archaeological finds like the Res Gestae Divi Augusti, or The Acts of Augustus carved into the marble of the Monumentum Ancyranum he considered pedestrian and were of little value let alone interest. Instead, he wanted access to the artifacts warehoused in the store rooms of The National Archaeological Museum of Ankara. Subsidized by private grant (through the organization), he had offered his services to help identify and catalog the vast amount of archaeological materials stashed away in the repository. The curator of the museum was ecstatic at the opportunity to have someone of Arthur’s credentials lend aid to the methodical and meticulous task.

Arthur relished the prospect and the challenge to identify some of the historical finds, some even pre-dating Phyrgian rule circa 1000 BCE, and he attacked the task with zeal. In the two years of cataloging he had uncovered a handful of unusual articles, but nothing that captivated him so as the nondescript little book. Sixty-eight yellow vellum like pages bound in a leather cover. The cover was tooled but without identification or title. The pages were a mix of faded brown script and a number of illustrations. Instinctively he knew he had found something significant, something truly arcane, he just didn’t know what, yet.

He poured hours and hours into deciphering the faded brown symbols scrawled on the odd yellowed pages. He had been making limited headway because the script and text were largely unknown to him, and samples he shared with some trusted academic colleagues yielded similar results.

Then came the summons. There had been a situation within the organization. Accordingly to the imperative message, the majority of the organization’s upper circle had simply vanished, including Samuel Halston III and second in command Lucien Delacroix. Publicly there was a news report about a tragic plane crash taking the lives of the organization’s leader and two of his three children, but information and details were obscure. The internal directive was much more apocalyptic. The organization had been systematically attacked and mercilessly dismantled by forces unknown. There was nothing more other than the group at its highest level was in a state of utter chaos. If the summons hadn’t come from a superior, Arthur probably would simply have ignored it, but the call had come from Sebastian Vickers, Adherent First Tier, 5thMantle, 3 positions above Arthur.

Reluctantly, Arthur made the necessary arrangements for sudden departure from Turkey and within a day was on an airplane bound for North America.

Vickers was awaiting Arthur when the plane touched down at JFK airport in New York City. The two men were in stark contrast to one another. Arthur was reed-like and stood an unimposing 5’5” in height, while Sebastian, 25 years junior, stood almost a full foot taller and possessed a more portly physique, weighing more than double Arthur. Arthur maintained short neat hair and was clean shaven and of fastidious appearance, while Sebastian possessed a full beard and kept his hair long.

“I have a car waiting,” advised Sebastian in a rich baritone, leading the much smaller man out of the airport and to the waiting limousine.

“Any new developments?” asked Arthur as he took his seat in the back of the car.

“Fragments at best,” replied Vickers, climbing into the other side of the limo. “Samuel’s daughter, Abigail, is apparently still alive, no definitive proof of life yet though. Preliminary indications are his personal holdings will transition to her,” said the robust man. “The organization exists beyond the scope of his private estate, but our attorneys say there should be substantial resources bequeathed unto the organization.”

“Her disposition?”

“Unknown at this time. There are literally no details of what transpired except that Samuel made a direct move to acquire one of the fabled Lapidibus de Potentia, stones of power from the head of Heller International, Clarissa Heller. Then everything went dark, I’ve dispatched an investigative team out west to piece together details,” answered Sebastian.

“What about others in the First Tier?” Arthur inquired.

“They’re all just gone or have gone underground and aren’t responding, Lucien, Alastair, Edmund, Stavros, Xiang just gone, you were the only one to respond to the summons,” replied Sebastian with a shrug of his thick shoulders.

“Most assuredly unusual,” mused Arthur. “Has anyone attempted to make contact with Heller?”

“Not that I’m aware of, might be prudent, but could be dangerous too if there is something nefarious afoot,” answered Sebastian, helping himself to a glass of scotch in the back of the limo. He inclined the bottle to Arthur but the smaller man shook his head.

Taking the Belt Parkway out of the airport, the car drove east until they were on the West Sunrise Highway. The drive out to Southampton was subdued.

“I thought you were in the Yucatan, how did you come to realize something was amiss?” asked Arthur.

“Harald Axelson, Adherent 3rd Tier, 3rd Mantle, contacted me saying he couldn’t reach Edmund. Then he said he broadened his call and couldn’t connect with anyone except me. I found that very odd, so I tried making contact myself,” answered the big man, shifting slightly in his seat after returning the scotch to its holder. “The rest I’ve been gleaning via intelligence reports sifting in through both North American and European headquarters. Seems like business as usual in Africa and the southern hemisphere though.”

Nodding, “What was Axelson’s assignment that he needed to contact Edmund?” asked Arthur.

“He was in Norway, something to do with a Viking burial mound,”

“I thought the Vikings didn’t bury their dead, but burned them with their ships when they died?” remarked Arthur.

Sebastian shrugged, “Scandinavian funerary rights are not my purview. Regardless, he believed he found something of note and attempted to make contact with Edmund because immediately after the discovery he began experiencing what he coined was unusual dream activity and hallucinations. I re-directed him and the artifact here, he arrived a few hours ago and is waiting at the house.”

“What did he find? Did he say?” Arthur asked, curiosity aroused.

“A necklace he called ‘Brisingamen’. It’s impressive,” explained Sebastian. “He says it’s some type of torc or necklace that belonged to the Viking Goddess Freya. He seemed pretty excited but rattled by it.”

Arthur nodded. “An interesting bauble no doubt, I am keen to see it. I’ve not met the man, is he prone to histrionics?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Sebastian laughed. “Hardly, you’ll see when you meet him.” Broad smile on his thick face.

“Background?”

“I think he has a master’s degree in Northern European history or warfare. Something like that. He is most definitely a descendent of the Vikings.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Vickers laughed anew.

“I myself have unearthed something I believe to be of significant value and import while in Turkey. This,” he said using his hands in a circular motion, “situation has pulled my focus away from that pursuit.” His tone not masking the irritation he felt.

“What did you uncover?” asked the bigger man before draining his glass of the scotch.

“A tome, but I think it is a key of some type,” answered Arthur.

“To what?”

“Not sure. My efforts to unravel its secrets have been frustratingly futile thus far, every time I think I’ve found the cypher, I am proved wrong,” he replied, filling Sebastian in on the details of the unusual book and his attempts to decipher it.

“Once you are settled at the house, I would like to take a look at it,” Sebastian offered, though his expertise was Mesoamerican civilization.

“Certainly,” replied the smaller man.

 

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