Riddle Of The Diamond Dove (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 4)

by N. S. Wikarski

  “I handled a retrieval in southern Africa a couple of years ago,” Erik explained. “While I was here I ate a worm on a dare. Turns out I really like the taste.”

  He pulled another worm out of the bag and dangled it in front of Cassie’s nose. “C’mon. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “Dude, get that thing away from me!” Cassie turned her back, afraid that if she looked at the dancing worm any longer, she really would be sick.

  ‘Much as I hate to break up this fascinating discussion of exotic cuisine,” Griffin said tactfully, “it’s time we started back to meet our contact.”

  “OK,” Erik agreed. “But I don’t want to hear either one of you complain that I never eat the local food.”

  Cassie raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. “You win. You can eat cheeseburgers from here to Timbuktu but the next time you decide to chow down on a bug, I don’t want to know about it.”

  Erik ate the last worm and disposed of the empty paper sack. “Remind me to get a couple of bags for the road before we leave the country.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that,” Cassie murmured, averting her eyes and hurrying on ahead of the other two.

  Chapter 9—Head For The Hills

  As the trio hastened back from the market, they noticed a woman standing on the hotel verandah, obviously waiting for someone.

  Erik waved to her.

  She waved back and trotted down the stairs to meet them. Their contact was dressed in khaki shorts, hiking boots and a maroon and gold University of Minnesota tee shirt. A slouch hat, with the brim pinned to one side completed her outfit. Cassie guessed her to be in her early twenties.

  “Hi Erik, haven’t seen you in these parts for ages.” She held out her hand in greeting.

  Erik took charge of the introductions. “Guys, meet Bobbye Johnson, archaeologist extraordinaire. By the way, she spells her name ‘B-O-B-B-Y-E’.”

  “It’s a family thing,” the newcomer explained.

  “Bobbye, this is Cassie, the new Pythia. And you probably already know Griffin, our Chief Scrivener.”

  “Only by his reputation, which is considerable.” Bobbye enthusiastically shook hands with both of them.

  Cassie mentally revised her estimate of Bobbye’s age. The woman would have to be at least thirty to be a veteran archaeologist but she exuded a bouncy energy that belied her experience. Maybe it was her athletic build or the sandy mop of hair poking out from under her hat. Maybe it was the profusion of freckles dotting her nose but she reminded Cassie of a scout troop leader.

  “Are you the trove-keeper in Botswana?” Cassie asked.

  Bobbye shook her head. “No, I’m a scout.”

  Cassie silently congratulated herself on her intuition. Maybe Bobbye wasn’t a scout leader, but she was some kind of scout all the same.

  Their contact continued. “We actually don’t have a trove here. In fact, there’s very little evidence anywhere in southern Africa of the sort of objects the Arkana collects. The indigenous tribes were all gatherer-hunters. People who live a nomadic existence don’t leave many artifacts behind.”

  She must have noticed Cassie’s puzzled expression and anticipated her next question. “So what am I doing here? Lately, I’ve been checking out the ruins in South Africa west of Maputo. Gold mines, calendar stones and cities that might date back two hundred thousand years.”

  “That’s seriously prehistoric,” Cassie commented.

  Bobbye nodded. “It would be the find of the century if the age is correct but we don’t know much at this stage. It’s too early to form any conclusions about what that site might mean for the Arkana. I’m just sniffing around to see what’s there.”

  “And since she was in the neighborhood, I asked her to help out an old friend,” the Paladin added.

  “Anything for Erik. I owe him.” The scout grinned. “As luck would have it, I’m pretty familiar with the rock art in Botswana. The Tsodilo Hills have some wonderful specimens.”

  “Tsodilo Hills?” Cassie repeated.

  “That’s where we’re headed today.”

  “Did you rent us a car?” Erik asked.

  “Better.” Bobbye gave a playful smile. “I got us a chopper.”

  “We’re going for a helicopter ride?” Cassie forgot her fatigue at the prospect of an aerial view of the delta.

  “It’s the quickest way to get there. It would take us over six hours by car and the roads close to the hills aren’t in the best shape. By air, we can make it in two hours.” Their guide consulted her watch. “We’d better get started now if we want to examine the site and get back before nightfall.” She pointed to a jeep parked near the lobby entrance. “Climb in everybody.”

  ***

  After a brief return to their rooms to pick up backpacks and change into hiking boots, the three visitors and their guide were on their way to the airstrip. The ride took less than ten minutes. A helicopter and its Aussie pilot named Len were already waiting for them when they pulled up. Bobbye explained that many of the bush pilots in Botswana were expatriates looking for adventure. Len gave them a short lesson in helicopter safety before allowing them all to climb in. Once they strapped on their seat belts and adjusted their headsets so they could hear one another over the sound of the engine, they were airborne.

  The helicopter followed a northwesterly course that cut right through the heart of the Okavango Delta. As it dipped low over the water, the reeds fanned out in all directions. Once they climbed higher, Cassie could see a variegated landscape of streams, small lakes, and marshes. Blue water shimmered through masses of green grass and scrub. The marshes were dotted here and there with clusters of trees that had found enough dry ground to grow to a mature height. The Pythia noticed one particularly tall tree growing alone on a mound of earth and something large moving beneath it. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

  “Is that...” she trailed off. Tapping Bobbye excitedly on the shoulder, she asked, “Is that an elephant?”

  Bobbye chuckled at her enthusiasm. “The delta attracts all sorts of critters. Elephants, antelope, crocodiles, lions, rhinos, even flamingos.”

  Cassie watched in fascination as the elephant reached up its trunk and stripped an entire branch. Stuffing the leaves into its mouth, it chewed in a leisurely fashion, untroubled by the sound of the aircraft gliding overhead.

  “They love acacia trees,” Bobbye added. “It’s one of their favorite foods.” She pointed out the window some distance in front of the chopper. “Look over there.”

  Cassie saw two animals, one big and the other small, leaping nimbly through the swamp. She assumed they were antelope.

  “Red lechwe,” the scout said by way of explanation.

  They passed the remainder of their journey taking turns pointing out the different creatures that called the delta their home.

  Cassie was so preoccupied with each new wildlife sighting that she barely noticed as the terrain changed from marsh to open grassland. Then something looming directly in front of their aircraft caught her full attention. Sheer gray rocks jutted up out of the perfectly level landscape.

  “We’re here,” Bobbye announced. “The Tsodilo Hills. There are four of them all in a line. The local people call them Male, Female, Child and Grandchild respectively.”

  Cassie eyed the tallest of the mounds. “I’m guessing that’s the one called ‘Male Hill’?”

  “Right,” the scout confirmed. “It’s actually the tallest point in Botswana. About thirteen hundred feet high.”

  “After some of the mountains we’ve been climbing lately, that’s not very impressive,” Erik observed.

  “For a country which is basically flat, it’s impressive enough,” Bobbye retorted. “Even though Male Hill is the tallest, Female Hill is three times as big. That’s our destination today.”

  The helicopter set down a few hundred yards in front of the rocks. They all climbed out and headed for the gate that guarded the entrance to the hills.

  “No
w that it’s considered a World Heritage Site, this whole area has been fenced off to protect the rock art.” Bobbye walked a few paces ahead, giving bits of info about the park as they moved along. “The site is patrolled by rangers and there are some campgrounds inside the perimeter. The hills are still considered sacred to the San. They call them ‘the mountain of the gods’ or sometimes simply ‘the rocks that whisper’.”

  “The San?” Cassie repeated.

  “The tribes who live in the area used to be known as Bushmen but ‘San’ is the more proper name. They’re gatherer-hunters who have been living in this region for as much as a hundred thousand years.”

  “I seem to recall reading about the San,” Griffin murmured. “They supposedly possess the most ancient mitochondrial DNA on the planet which means that the mother of all modern humans was an ancestress of the San.”

  “And San origin myths place the site of creation right in the middle of the Tsodilo Hills,” Bobbye added. “So you can think of this spot as the pre-overlord equivalent of the Garden of Eden.”

  They had crossed into the parklands and were now making their ascent up Female Hill. The route they followed wasn’t so much a trail as a series of broken boulders which they had to climb over or crawl between. The lower half of the hill also contained a variety of shrubs and small trees that clung to the meager soil between the rocks and occasionally impeded their progress.

  “From the perspective of the Arkana, the San confirm a lot of what we’ve always believed about gatherer-hunter social structure,” Bobbye said. “They aren’t male-dominated and division of labor isn’t rigidly defined by sex. Their social organization is relatively egalitarian with major decisions made by group consensus. Divorce isn’t stigmatized for either partner and spousal abuse is unheard of.” Bobbye paused to clamber over a huge rock blocking their way. “Of course, so many things are changing now because of outside influence. It’s hard to know how much of their social structure has been adulterated by contact with overlord culture.”

  Cassie came to a dead stop and pointed to the cliff slightly above them. “Did they paint that?”

  The others turned their heads upward to regard a specimen of rock art.

  Bobbye squinted at it. “Yes. It’s a gazelle. They used red ochre to paint most of the images you’ll see. Red silhouettes against a background of grey quartzite. There are about forty five hundred different paintings throughout the park though I should mention that not all the rock art is ancient. Some of it is recent, only a thousand years old or so.”

  Erik chuckled. “I guess when you’re talking about people who have been living here for the past hundred thousand years, a millennium would seem kind of recent.”

  They resumed the challenging trek upward while Bobbye continued her explanation. “There are more specimens of rock art in the Tsodilo Hills than anywhere else in the world. It’s a form of expression that predates cave painting by thousands of years. Archaeologists once believed that the images in cave paintings and rock art were representations of hunting scenes. Of course, that’s what you’d expect an overlord archaeologist to think. However, it seems much more likely that the images were depictions of what tribal shamans saw while in a trance state. Some of the paintings are fusions of animal and human forms while others are spirals or geometric shapes. The images would have possessed symbolic significance to the artist and probably to her tribe as well.”

  “Perhaps in the same way a medieval person might have viewed a stained glass window in a church,” Griffin offered. “The images were meant to evoke a different dimension of reality.”

  By now they had progressed halfway up the hill. The vegetation had thinned out and they were traveling over bare rock. The higher they climbed, the hotter the sun became. Bobbye suggested that they pause and take a break. Everyone had come equipped with bottled water in their backpacks. Cassie noted that she and her companions were red-faced and out of breath but their guide hadn’t even broken a sweat.

  “I guess you’re used to this climate,” the Pythia remarked.

  Bobbye shrugged. “After a couple of years in Africa, I don’t notice the temperature anymore. But whenever I’m back in the states, I sure do feel the cold.”

  They resumed their upward journey, periodically pausing so Bobbye could point out various specimens of rock art. Eventually they reached the crest of the hill and stopped briefly to admire the view of the surrounding grasslands. Because it was flat as far as the eye could see, Cassie understood why these hills would be considered so remarkable a feature of the terrain. Once they’d caught their collective breath, Bobbye led them downward along the northwest face of the hill.

  A little way down the slope, the scout stopped abruptly before a narrow aperture in the rock and announced, “We’re here.”

  Cassie stared. “There’s nothing here but more rock.”

  “This is Rhino Cave.”

  The Pythia tilted her head to the side to regard their destination. It didn’t look like any of the caves she’d visited on previous expeditions. Those had been huge gaping holes in the ground with entrances as big as cathedral arches. Rhino Cave was little more than a tall narrow slit in the side of the hill. There were boulders piled up around the entrance which made it easy to miss if you didn’t know what you were looking for.

  “C’mon,” Bobbye instructed as she clambered over the giant rocks obscuring the portal.

  The others followed her lead.

  There were more boulders which had tumbled inside and the group had to climb down these before they reached level ground. The floor of the interior had been packed hard over the centuries and was smooth compared to the rubble outside. The cave itself wasn’t very large and didn’t seem to be very deep either.

  Cassie’s attention was immediately drawn to a rock painting on the right-hand wall. Part of it had been worn away but it seemed to represent an elephant. “So why is this cave so special?” she asked, still contemplating the picture. “The rock art we’ve already seen on the trail is a lot more impressive.”

  “Because of this.” Griffin turned her around to face the opposite wall.

  “Oh my goddess!” Cassie exclaimed.

  Chapter 10—Stoned

  Once Griffin spun her around to face the other side of the cave, Cassie knew why this place was so remarkable. She drew her breath in sharply, startled by the object that confronted her. A huge stone snake about twenty feet long and three feet wide seemed frozen in the act of emerging from the back wall of the cavern. Its head and most of its body were free-standing, raised at their highest point about seven feet from the ground. A crack in the rock formed a mouth and a natural indentation mimicked an eye.

  “It’s called the ‘Python Stone’,” Griffin said.

  The group gathered around the strange sculpture, if it could be called a sculpture at all. It looked more like a natural rock formation that someone had shaped to accentuate its resemblance to a giant snake.

  “It’s been theorized that the ancestors of the San carved the mouth,” Bobbye pointed to the reptile’s snout. “Or at least they deepened the crack in the rock that was already where a mouth should be. And look over here.” She moved to the middle of the snake’s body and gestured toward indentations which had obviously been chipped into the rock. “There are hundreds of these ‘cupules’ as they’re called. It appears that the stone was flaked away deliberately in spots to make the surface look like the scales of a snake’s skin.”

  “But why would anybody want to do something like that?” Cassie wondered aloud.

  “To the San, the python is one of the most sacred of creatures,” Griffin answered. “It is the largest snake in this part of the world. In the San origin myth, it is said that all humans are descended from a great python. In fact, the dry riverbeds that are so prevalent in the area were supposedly created by the movements of the huge snake in its endless search to find water in the desert.”

  Cassie made no move to touch the sculpture. She regarded it wari
ly. “This cave must have been a holy place to the people who lived around here. It was like their church.”

  “You’re right,” Bobbye confirmed. “To this day, the cave is considered sacred. At least a few archaeologists believe ancient rituals were performed here. Stone spear points which were left as offerings are about seventy thousand years old. That chronology upsets the mainstream view that humans didn’t start performing religious rites until forty thousand years ago.”

  Cassie looked at the Scrivener suspiciously. “What are we doing here? Griffin, is this where the surprise comes in?”

  The Brit cleared his throat uncomfortably. “We’d like... ahem... that is...we thought... perhaps... you might validate the Python Stone for us.”

  “That thing?” Cassie drew back.

  “Nice going!” Erik shot Griffin a scornful glance.” Then turning to Cassie he added, “It wasn’t supposed to come out like that but Griffin was afraid if he told you too much ahead of time, it might affect the outcome of your reading.”

  “I get the part about not telling me too much but giving me some advance warning might have been a good way to go.” The Pythia walked toward the head of the snake, eyeing it dubiously. “Guys, this thing is beyond ancient. I don’t even have to touch it to know that. I’m getting vibes from everything here. The painting, the walls, the snake. All of it. I’m not sure I know how to deal with an artifact like this. It’s so alien to anything I’ve channeled before. Who knows what’s waiting for me down this particular rabbit hole?”

  Her two teammates traded concerned glances. Bobbye offered no comment but her face wore a troubled expression.

  Erik stepped forward. “Look, if you’d rather not, nobody is going to force you.”

  “Absolutely,” Griffin hastened to concur. “If this frightens you, please don’t feel you should. I realize it was stupid of me not to give you at least a hint of our intentions.”