Chapter 1: A Malignant Winter

Lars grew up in the frozen tundras of Norway. The snow and ice were his mercurial brothers and sisters, the frigid wind his mother caressing his cheek, and the ceaseless rays of sunshine from a cloudless sky were the eyes of his father. 

His real mother and father were much more grounded one could say metaphorically. His father owned a huge swath of land and hired teams along with himself to cut down trees and provide lumber for the local mills each summer. His mother had a huge garden and worked part time at an apothecary and ran a stall at the local markets selling herbs and homeopathic remedies for minor ailments. 

His life had been surrounded by nature and the rich bounty it had proved his whole family as a means of living. Lars had always done well in school and felt connected to the elements. Particularly though, he loved the water. 

His father joked that Lars was born of some divine intervention from some aquatic gods and his mother likewise, boasted he could swim before walking. His parents had often left him alone at recreation centers and community clubs as a child where he flourished playing sports. 

Lars had been an only child but had no problems making friends in school. His upbringing had been humble but a happy one. 

He attended university in Trondheim at NTNU, upon his mother’s insistence, but after studying geology and wildlife conservation for two years, had dropped out when he had been offered a job as a researcher for a mining company that sought possible oil or mineral deposits in the lands located within the frozen landscape of northern Scandinavia. 

Convincing himself and his parents he could return and finish his degree and simultaneously make connections for future career paths, his parents reluctantly agreed, and Lars withdrew from school. 

He only had a year left and the University of Science and Technology would allow him to resume his studies at his leisure.

Yes, Lars had traveled to cities and seen the life of modernity, he had felt the warm touch of a few women and even some men, he had contemplated joining the army, but instead had decided on a life of near solitude. His quiet upbringing left him with a disregard to massive societal constructs and he felt most comfortable being alone. This was his chance to become wealthy and fulfill his dream. 

Going back to his home of Norway he visited his family near the months of winter. His mother had followed the old ways and the family often celebrated the time of Yule as the upcoming celebration of a new year and a time for new beginnings. 

Mørketid, or the Time Of Darkness, referred to the polar night that came before December 21st, the Winter Solstice.

 The freezing temperatures and lack of sun made for a shitty time, Lars admitted begrudgingly, but he was being paid five years worth of an average annual income for two months of scouting and cartography. His hale disposition and athletic background as a water polo player in conjunction with his studies had apparently made him a prime candidate for the mysterious corporation known as The Onyx Foundation. The conglomerate had sent a headhunter to his dorm room and proceeded to aggressively recruit him on the day that would change his life forever. 

Looking back on the interaction, Lars still found himself confused and in a state of shock. 

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It was a crisp day in early December. The weather in Trondheim was cold but mostly dry and later he considered this a blessing as opposed to constant snow. 

The campus was spread amongst the city and the brash sunlight reflected off windows and steel and the cold, lifeless concrete was covered in ice or sludge or snow where the sun wasn’t seen often. 

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Lars inhaled deeply after leaving the stuffy auditorium building. The smell of pollution permeated the air. 

Only with the smell of trees and sap and loam did Lars think the air was fresh. 

Walking briskly to his dorm the break between classes was enough time for him to eat and have a quick swim in the dorm spa. 

Lunging up the stairs quickly and into the narrow hallway of his building, a man was waiting in the middle of the threadbare carpeting looking distinctly out of place. 

The company agent sent to recruit him had been bedecked in a form-fitting suit that looked designer and his shoes and watch glistened in the fluorescent school lighting. He was clutching a tight leather briefcase. 

“Mr. Erickson?” He asked smoothly.

“Um, yes, have I done something wrong?” Lars had his keys in his hand and his larger height and build prevented him from feeling afraid, but he was apprehensive nonetheless.

“Excellent, they said this was your room. I’ve come to speak with you about a job opportunity, an amazing offer I’m sure you would want to hear all about. May I come in?” He pointed at the still closed door, painted a dingy white and riddled with knicks and dents. 

Lars had a scruffy roommate who was on the crew team so they had been bunked up for the last two years rather amicably. Lars knew he was at class so he decided on letting the man into their small abode.

Lars turned the kettle on and indicated a chair at the small, utilitarian dining table. The man sat and placed the briefcase on the table before running his hand over the leather slowly. His posture was stiff but seemed relaxed.

“You may call me Ulrich, I will be your liason.” The man nodded at the kettle and Lars placed two teacups and a sugar bowl out. 

He nodded curtly. 

“I represent the Onyx Corporation, you may have heard of us. We have vast holdings in mining, oil drilling, steel, and even lumber.” Ulrich made meaningful eye contact with Lars that he deliberately didn’t acknowledge.

The man went on, leaving the case closed and his eyes remained fixed on Lars’ steely blue gaze.

“In essence, we need a field cartographer. Someone familiar with the countryside and able to read a map and a compass. The Onyx Corporation needs multiple locations scouted out. We have secured the rights to search and mine the land from the Norwegian government but we will be airlifting teams and machinery in and out and need an efficient system of geolocating beacons placed for efficacy and speed. This will require someone on the ground but we have rival factions seeking the same veins of possible ore and we must beat them to it. This means we place the beacons in the wintertime, so we can be the first to arrive when the weather becomes more temperate.” 

Lars screwed up his face but couldn’t ask anything before Ulrich continued. 

“We can provide you with all the equipment and supplies you could possibly need. Tents, camping gear, sleeping bags, food and rations, clean water, and anything else you want, but time is of the essence and we must have all thirteen of the locations tracked, located, and a homing beacon activated by the end of January to compete against our rivals, can you do this?” The agent was almost his height and had his dark hair slicked back and pommaded to a bright shine. His sharp features caused him to look stoic and unemotional. “We are willing to pay commensurately of course.” The man added as if reading Lars’ facial expressions of doubt. 

Lars considered the bizarre offer and the man again. Having returned from an hour-long lecture about climate change and how it affected the migratory patterns of birds, it had left him feeling mentally fuzzy, and having this man waiting outside his dorm room had thrown him further into a dizzying spiral of disbelief. 

“It seems very dangerous, and if you have the rights to the land, why not wait until it’s safer or more secure?” Lars asked, having thought about his major gripes so far. 

“Ah, good questions. The veins are not average by any means as they are able to shift their flow based on certain geologic activity and thus, our abilities to track and locate the most prime locations to harvest said materials can change quickly and drastically.” 

“Huh?” Lars expressed his incredulity with the utmost eloquence.

“Well, we believe it to be liquid, like oil, but it can shift based on land or ice. The weather, climate change, seismic activity can all affect our ability to use satellites and tracking systems on it. Our rights to the land don’t matter if there is nothing left of value in six months time, understood?” Ulrich explained concisely with a definitive tone of patience and a slight miasma of condescension. 

Lars ignored the subtle jibe and got to the meat of his question. 

“How much?” 

Ulrich smiled with a languid predatory gleam that sent brief chills down Lars’ spine. 

“We are willing to offer fifty million Norwegian Krone,” he said, casually reaching for the briefcase and flipping it open. Ulrich revealed stacks of colorful money.

“And… ten percent now as an enlistment payment, Mr. Erickson.”

Lars goggled and spluttered. His ability to remain cool in the face of surprise was thrown by the casual offer of millions of Krone for what sounded like rather ideal work. His doubt and insecurity of having been picked and found screamed at him but his selfishness and overwhelming desire to be something amazing and special warred conflict within his soul. 

“There has to be a catch?” His voice was raspy, and Lars attempted to collect himself a bit more.

“The Company is very aware of this expedition’s inherent danger and the scope of its difficulties, but you are an ideal candidate and this could be a sound investment for future relations with you, your father, and your family’s lumber company.” Ulrich smiled again and his teeth must have cost a tiny fortune. 

“I want a contract in easily comprehensible writing, no crazy legal jargon, explaining everything we have discussed and my parents must receive everything if I were to get hurt or possibly die.” 

“It’s our policy that beneficiaries of signees will receive seventy percent of the agreed upon amount, its standard.” Ulrich held his hands open and a pen had manifested in his right hand and a contract was cleverly concealed in the lid of the briefcase that he revealed with a flourish. 

“This feels like a trick or a Faustian bargain,” Lars said aloud, observing the agent for any reaction or response. 

With only a slight chuckle, Ulrich placed the contract on the table and turned it toward Lars.

“No trick, Mr. Erickson, just fate,” he explained enigmatically.