The Winds of Change – Part 8

THE WINDS OF CHANGE
♣♣♣ Part VIII ♣♣♣
Via Greenland
Apocalyptic Fiction by Jason Youngman

Prime Minister Kielsen personally rolled out a red carpet for Jason at the entrance gate of the airport. Then he warmly welcomed the travellers to a meal while their helicopter was being prepared. His broken English felt sincere and well rehearsed for the occasion. Yet he kept his translator nearby and frequently called upon him to interpret what was being said. As to what Jason and his companions were committed to doing in the Perry Mountains of Greenland captured his curiosity. Both Iceland and Denmark had given their assent; i.e., the Vatican’s representatives were free to explore and ascertain minerals in light of addressing global warming.

The food was presented as a buffet and there was meat and fish of various kinds. It was a meal fit for a king. Even though the wine was alcohol free, Jason thought it was on par with the grape from his own vineyard. The locals appeared very happy to be among guests and the music in the background felt warmly Italian.

Jason’s three body guards sat at the far end of the pub eating their personal rations and kept a good eye on everything that was going on around them. It was obvious to them that the airport was closed to the public, which made their job a lot easier. Vlad was the commanding officer of his unit, and by rank a warrant officer. Vlad’s younger cousin Oleg was a sergeant and his third was Alex, a retired senior officer who specifically returned to mentor Vlad in political affairs.

At the end of their meal Kielsen introduced Jason to Aaka, his mother. She was raised in the northern region of the Country and served as her tribe’s Shamanka.

“The place you seek is called Magog. It is an ancient burial ground.” Aaka communicated through the translator.

“How do you know where we are going?” asked Jason.

“It came to me in a dream,” replied Aaka, “it is also prophesied that a holy man from a foreign land would come to wake the dead, so that the world will begin anew.”

“Could you tell me about these dead?” implored Jason.

“The ancient ones are not like us,” answered Aaka, “they are giants with magical power.”

“And how can I find this place exactly?” enquired Jason.

“Just follow the Northern Lights, and you will find what you seek.”

“Is there anything else that may help me locate this sacred place?”

“The burial ground is surrounded by 12 large pillars, which glow a different colour when the moon is full.”

“Thank you, Aaka, for your help.”

“You must not walk on the burial ground, no matter what you see.”

“Yes, of course,” replied Jason, “we must respect the dead or there will be consequences.”

“Allow me to show you to your helicopter,” injected Kielsen, “and if you wish, I can have our pilot take you to the graveyard.

“That would be wonderful,” exclaimed Jason.

“There is a full moon tonight, so the pillars are going to glow. We don’t usually invite outsiders to our sacred place but we would be honoured to show you this great wonder of the world.”

“I am both ecstatic and honoured,” said Jason.

“So your answer is yes?” asked Kielsen.

“Yes, I would love to visit this place!” cried Jason.

“Very well then,” answered Kielsen, “I will have the other pilot, who is presently on course for the mountains, to make camp for us near the site.”

“You do me a great service, Prime Minister,” replied Jason.

“Please, just call me Kim. What do you make of my mother’s traditional story?” Kielsen’s eyes lit up with the radiance of the sun.

“Well, Kim, being a member of a Religious Order that goes back hundreds of years, I can attest to the importance of preserving tradition.” Jason’s words rolled off his tongue with ease.

“The Inuit have passed down their wisdom through stories,” replied Kielsen, “they migrated here in the 13th century, but the ancient burial site was here long before they came. Our Grandfathers say the giants took shelter there during the great flood and ended up frozen in the earth.”

“Which was probably a good thing for the rest of us,” replied Jason.

“Maybe,” retorted Kielsen, “but the prophet Isaiah said the ‘giants are coming to fulfil my wrath’ during the end of days. My people also believe that these creatures are being preserved to cleanse the world of evil.”

“Be honest with me, Kim,” pleaded Jason, “did someone tell you of our purpose here?”

“The northern Inuit are not affected by the ways of the world. Our hearts remain pure and our minds clear. Therefore our dreams remain as open doorways to the Great Spirit. We know intuitively what you read in the Holy Book to be truth.”

“So you are aware of our intention to make contact with them?” Jason attempted to evaluate Kielsen’s intel on the operation.

“Not exactly, but I do believe that Aaka knows how to interpret her dreams in a way that is relevant to the times we live in. So you will have me as your guide?”

“That would depend,” responded Jason, “on your willingness to allow us to perform our duty unhindered.”

“This is your project,” replied Kielsen, “which is sanctioned through our Government heads, so I will not interfere but will endeavour to assist you in any way that I can.”

“Thank you, Kim, we are indebted to your hospitality,” replied Jason, “but you will be taking a great risk by joining us. Are you sure you want to put your life in danger to serve our cause?”

“Is it not written that we are to be witnesses to the ends of the earth,” answered Kielsen.

“It is so,” smiled Jason, “but in our case quite literally to the ends of the earth.”

Everyone suited up in Arctic winter gear and boarded the helicopter. The weather conditions for flying were good, which made for excellent speed. The soldiers spoke mainly about orientating themselves in case of an unforeseen circumstance. Luckily Kielsen was raised a hunter and knew Greenland’s geography very well, so his contributions were highly constructive and most welcomed. Once the dialogue died down they settled in their comfy chairs in silence; each man given over to his imagination while listening to the buzzing sound of the rotor blades above them as though they were the wings of an angel.

About Jason Youngman

An explorer of volition and soul, a song under a night sky and a dream that forever yearns to be.
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7 Responses to The Winds of Change – Part 8

  1. inese says:

    Kielsen’s name made me feel a little bit nervous… 😉
    I look forward to reading the next chapters.

  2. McBRachel says:

    If you’d ever consider submitting some of your work for publication, Dixie State University has an online literary journal and is currently open for submissions.

    You can check us out at https://www.r7review.com/. The deadline to submit this year is November 6th.

    We are in need of fiction and nonfiction submissions. We also accept memoirs, audio recordings, visual art, book reviews, multimedia (video/audio), photography, etc.

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