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Sacred Ground
Alex Archer
In a land of subzero temperatures and snow-covered vistas, survival is a challenge. But for the Araktak–an isolated and mysterious Inuit people–this harsh tundra is their heritage.Until now. A large mining company has purchased the land, and the sacred Araktak burial site with it. But more than diamond deposits await them under the dark, icy earth….Contracted by the mining company, archaeologist Annja Creed is to oversee the proper relocation of the burial site. Her job is to ensure that each ancient relic and all human remains are carefully removed. But the sacred ground harbors a terrible secret. One that a powerful group of men intend to unleash on an unsuspecting world–unless Annja can find a way to stop them.
“What is that?”
Far ahead of them, Annja thought she could make out something dark. It looked like it was growing.
Godwin pressed on the gas pedal. His eyes narrowed and he gripped the wheel tighter. “Our turnoff should be coming soon.”
“Not soon enough,” Annja said. “It’s going to be close.”
“What is?” Derek asked. “What is that thing ahead of us? What’s going on?”
Annja looked at him. “Can’t you hear it?”
Derek stopped and sat back in his seat. He closed his eyes and then Annja saw his body stiffen appreciably. His eyes popped open. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
Annja nodded. “It is.”
Godwin pointed up ahead of them. “It’s growing.”
Annja looked and saw it was true. Shooting down the ice road toward them was a giant fissure of blackness.
The ice road was cracking all around them.
Sacred Ground
Rogue Angel™
Alex Archer
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
THE LEGEND
…THE ENGLISH COMMANDER TOOK JOAN’S SWORD AND RAISED IT HIGH.
The broadsword, plain and unadorned, gleamed in the firelight. He put the tip against the ground and his foot at the center of the blade. The broadsword shattered, fragments falling into the mud. The crowd surged forward, peasant and soldier, and snatched the shards from the trampled mud. The commander tossed
the hilt deep into the crowd.
Smoke almost obscured Joan, but she continued praying till the end, until finally the flames climbed her body and she sagged against the restraints.
Joan of Arc died that fateful day in France,
but her legend and sword are reborn….
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
1
Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada
“It’s been my experience,” Annja Creed said, “that the motives of private industry and those of the public don’t usually make for good bedfellows.” She reclined a bit farther back into the deep chocolate leather of her armchair and waited for the man sitting across from her to respond.
“That’s a pretty narrow way to look at things.” Derek Wainman took a sip from a steaming mug of coffee before setting it on the frosted-glass table. “After all, it’s in our best interests to work with the public to make sure they don’t feel slighted. These are, after all, potential customers.”
Annja considered the map in front of her. This time of year, most of the Northwest Territories of Canada was frozen. The arctic tundra was a mass of brittle green amid the snows and winds. She shivered just thinking about how cold it was out there.
But it couldn’t be worse than Antarctica, could it? She smiled at the memories of that adventure and then noticed Derek watching.
“You okay?”
“The cold weather makes me reminisce about the other times I’ve been in the thick of it,” she said.
Derek took another sip of his coffee. “That’s been quite often, hasn’t it?”
Annja looked at him. He smirked and waved his hand.
“Don’t be so concerned. We take great pains to find out all we can about people we might be interested in working with. And there’s never been anything that the right amount of money can’t purchase. Information especially.”
Annja smiled. She was one hundred percent positive there was at least one small nugget of intelligence that their money hadn’t been able to procure—the presence of the sword that she always carried with her.
“That’s a curious grin,” Derek said.
Annja made her face expressionless. This guy didn’t miss a thing. She’d have to remember that.
“How successful has the mining operation been at Ekati?”
“By all accounts, incredibly so,” Derek said. “It’s expected to yield five hundred million Canadian dollars a year for the next twenty-five years. Who would have thought that the earth could have such a repository of untapped wealth?”
“I might have,” Annja said. “But then, I dig for a living. That kind of knowledge is my thing.”
“You like getting dirty,” Derek said.
Annja watched his face for any signs that he was already tossing innuendo around. But to his credit, he kept his expression firm and unyielding. No sign of mirth tinged it.
“Getting dirty comes with the territory,” she said. “It can’t be helped. And it’s only when you’re truly down in the thick of it that you find the most precious treasures. So yes, I like getting dirty.”
“Where were you before this?”
Annja raised an eyebrow at him. “Now, why would you ask me such a question? After all, I thought you had a complete workup on my recent activities?”
“We do.”
“So, what, you want to see if I lie about my whereabouts?”
Derek held up his hand. “Calm down. It was just a friendly question.”
Annja looked at the map again. Frozen lakes, frozen rivers, frozen everything. It would be a damned cold jaunt; she knew that.
“Why now?” she asked.
“Excuse me?”
Annja glanced up. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to start something like this in the spring?”
Derek smiled. “We’re hoping that by the time you get to the site and extricate everything that needs extricating, it will be spring and just in time for us to start our real work.”
“Ah, the real work.”
Derek leaned forward. “Annja, please make no mistake—while we’re committed to helping the Inuit preserve whatever sacred ground they have in this location, our primary emphasis is on profit. We’re a private corporation and as such, driven by the ever-present bottom line.”
“Hence my original statement about private and public interests not intersecting.”
Derek leaned back. “We can help each other.”
“How so?”
“By you agreeing to come on board and assist the Inuit elders with their research, we gain a certain degree of sympathy for our corporation. Our public image looks better than if we simply steamrolled in and took what we wanted from the land with little regard to its history.”
