The wordunfortunateseemed far too meager a description for whathad transpired in this room. Still, Turov knew better than to object. Sychkin had the ear of the patriarch, the leader of the Orthodox Church. Likewise, the archpriest carried the same white-gold ring as Turov and Oleg, only it did not decorate a finger, but hung from a chain under his clothes.
The Arkangel Society had members across a spectrum of high-profile professions: politicians, military leaders, scientists, and religious figures. Their ambition was to seek paths to return Russia to its former glory, with a focus on its northernmost lands, an area that the society believed held the true origins of the Russian people.
In fact, the group’s name came from the mythic history of the neighboring port city of Arkhangelsk, where it was said the Archangel Michael fought the devil and that the angel still guarded over the northern coast of Russia. The society’s heraldic symbol of a sword-over-wings was a nod to that battle and represented their group’s commitment to help Michael’s cause.
But more than just guarding the northern coasts, the society’s primary goal was to seek the true roots of the Russian people, to prove they had descended from a nearly divine race, one that Archangel Michael had wanted to protect and cherish. The society adhered to the philosophy of Aleksandr Dugin, a man who was held in high esteem by both the military and the current regime in Moscow. Dugin believed the roots of the Russian race came from a lost continent, what the Greeks called Hyperborea, the land beyond the North Wind.
The Arkangel Society’s primary goal was to findproofof this truth. To that end, Dugin gave them his personal blessing, which helped the group quickly gain powerful allies.
Still, in his heart, Turov remained skeptical of all of it, but that had not stopped him from joining up, especially as the group’s cause served his own ends.
For decades, Russia had been seeking ways to expand its territorial reach, to claim more, if not all, of the Arctic. Back in 2007, two Russian Navy submersibles traveled beneath the ice cap and planted a titanium flag under the North Pole, symbolically staking a claim.
Since then, Turov’s mission was to turn symbolism into reality. Turovand Oleg—working in tandem with the Arctic Marine Institute—had used submarines to collect rock samples along the Lomonosov Ridge, a subsea mountain range that crossed the North Pole. Their effort was to prove geologically that the ridge was an extension of Russia’s continental shelf, which would allow the federation to have territorial claim over most of the Arctic.
Unfortunately, ownership of the Lomonosov Ridge continued to remain in dispute. Canada claimed the mountain range was an extension of their Ellesmere Island. Denmark said it was a submerged section of Greenland.
In the end, Turov’s efforts failed.
Still, he held out hope that he could findanothersimilar site, one with both ageologicalconnection to the Russian mainland and aculturaltie to its people. If he could find that, especially a location far to the north, then Russia could claim the Arctic for itself.
And I would get the honor.
Holding to that hope, Turov tolerated many of the wilder and arcane assertions of the society’s members. He tempered what he heard and tried to cast it all in practical terms, but even he had his limits.
He stared at the ruins of the two young people.
This zealotry and cruelty strained his forbearance.
He scowled at Sychkin. “You truly believe that what these two found, a cache of old books, could lead to the Golden Library of the Tsars?”
“I do. It’s why I wished to talk to you before I returned to Moscow and reported to the patriarch.”
“About what?”
“From those trunks of books, a single Greek text was recovered. We’ve come to believe it holds the key to the location of the Golden Library.”
Turov shook his head. “Even so, why is this library so important to the Arkangel Society?”
Sychkin took a deep breath, clearly weighing if this was a question that he should answer. He finally drew Turov off to the side, away from Oleg.
The archpriest’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Because of the centuries-old accounts from two sons of Russia.”
The stench of the room stoked Turov’s impatience. “What accounts? What sons?”
“The first came from Pavel Chichagov. He was the son of the Russian admiral and Arctic explorer Vasily Chichagov.”
Turov’s interest sharpened. All who served in the Far North knew the name of the eighteenth-century admiral, a man who had once been the commander of Arkhangelsk.
Sychkin continued, “Pavel wrote a memoir about his father after his death. In that book, he stated something intriguing. It was already well known that his father repeatedly sought out the Northern Sea Route across the top of Russia, but Pavel makes mention of one particular excursion in 1764. Vasily left Arkhangelsk with three ships, but once he was underway, Pavel claims his father received a letter. A secret decree from Empress Catherine the Great. She ordered Vasily to travel north, toward the pole, to search for a lost continent.”
“You think she was referring to Hyperborea?”
Sychkin lifted his bushy brows. “What else could it be?”
Turov waved for the archpriest to continue. “What happened during that voyage?”
“Pavel never says. All we know is that Chichagov returned with only one ship. Afterward, he quickly advanced to the rank of admiral.” Sychkin shrugged. “Maybe as a reward?”
