Atlantis: Bermuda Triangle

Chapter 12

They passed swiftly between more barrows, the unnatural formations forming small valleys between them. Ragnarok was glad to be putting distance between themselves and the wicker man, but his sense of foreboding didn’t abate. This was a strange land and a strange folk. Worshipping oak trees and burning people as a gift to the Gods, chanting in the darkness, all were things foreign to Ragnarok and he longed for the feel of a swaying deck under his feet.

The two women moved like wraiths, their long legs swinging back and forth under their cloaks through the knee high grass. Ragnarok followed, his ax resting on his shoulder, towering over both of them. He had done more walking in the last three days and nights than ever in his life.

“We must arrive before dawn,” Penarddun said, “or else hide. The king’s men will be searching.”

“Why?” Ragnarok asked.

“Because he has sworn allegiance to the Christians,” Penarddun said. “He has turned his back on the old ways. Every so often, when the bishop of the Christians squeals, he sends soldiers to hunt us down. Fortunately there is not much profit in it or else he would do it all the time.”

“There are older ways than your beliefs,” Tam Nok said.

“That is most likely so,” Penarddun agreed. “But I only know what I know. Much has been lost over the years. Where we are going is part of that older way. If what you seek is not there, then I know not where it is.”

Tam Nok suddenly halted, holding up her hand to indicate for the others to stop also. Her head turned, almost like an animal sniffing the night. Ragnarok looked to and fro, but all he saw were the barrows dotting the plains that surrounded them.

“They are coming,” Tam Nok said.

“Who?” Ragnarok asked.

“The Valkyries. They are not close but they are coming.”

“I thought they could not cross the water or move out of the fog.” Ragnarok noted.

“They have many powers,” Tam Nok said. “We have time but not too much.” She began walking even faster and Ragnarok followed, his senses on alert.

They passed between two long barrows and there were no more burial mounds. A long plain stretched to the horizon and in the center of it, about half a mile away, some sort of strange building unlike anything Ragnarok had ever seen.

Penarddun had halted upon first sight of the structure and Tam Nok and Ragnarok flanked her. It was difficult to tell at this distance but it looked to Ragnarok like a much larger version of the stone monuments that the Vikings would erect on the burial mounds of one of their leaders. Numerous large stones were set in the Earth, with other stones on top bridging the open space between them. There were two circles of stones, the outer about a hundred feet in diameter. There appeared to be a road leading off between banks to the northeast where the land dipped down slightly, indicating there was probably a river or stream.

“What is this place?” Tam Nok asked.

“The holiest of our places,” Penarddun said, as they continued forward. “It is now called Stonehenge. No one knows how old it is. It was here long before the Romans came.

“Some say the Ancients built it when they first came here. That is what I believe. Who else could have moved the stones? Some come from the Preslie Mountains over two hundred and forty miles away. Some, I think, from over the sea, in the land of the Irish, from a place known as the Dance of the Giants in Killarus.”

Ragnarok had landed in Eire Land several times and they were as strange a people as the Britons. But he doubted either had the ability to move such large stones, especially across the water between the two islands. Even one of those stones would probably sink the stoutest longship. And why would anyone go to such trouble?

“There are some who say the stones did not even originate in Eire Land. That they came from a dark land far to the south of even Rome and Greece, a land where the people’s skin was black and many strange creatures walked the Earth.” Penarddun continued. “Who could have done such a marvelous thing? Even an army of the strongest men like your Viking friend could not move one of the larger stones.

“Others talk of high priests and priestesses. A man, one of the earliest of our order, named Myrddinn Wyllt in the old tongue, Merlin in the new, is said to have brought the inner ring of stones here by floating them in the air.”

Ragnarok would have laughed but he remembered the Valkyrie flying through the air and seizing Thorlak. Perhaps this Merlin was not human either, Ragnarok thought.

“Merlin was one of the first of our order that we know of,” Penarddun continued. “Many now talk of him as a legend, a man of magic and spells, but he was more a seer, one who could see over the lines of time forward and back. The Christians call him a demon, but he was no demon. He was one who had a link to the Ancients and the Ones Before.

The stone structure was now a quarter mile away. Ragnarok looked about, half-expecting to see Valkyries swooping out of the sky, but all was still except for the noise of the clothes through the grass and their feet on the ground.

“The stones do heal, I know that,” Penarddun said, “because I have seen it.”

The monument was very close now. The ground dipped slightly, a small trench circling the entire thing. Then they passed through a ring of holes dug into the ground. Ragnarok wanted to look in the nearest hole, but the women didn’t pause.

The outer circle of standing stones was over four times Ragnarok’s height. He felt dwarfed and insignificant as he walked under the lintel stone that went from one standing stone to the other.

Inside was another circle, five taller pairs of standing stones, also topped with lintels that left an opening toward the northeast. Penarddun paused under a lintel stone, not going into the center, horseshoe shaped clearing. Ragnarok felt cold, as if the air had gone chill. He did not want to go any further. There was a strange power here, he had no doubt of that. He had raided several churches and had felt some of the power of the Christian God inside them, but that was nothing compared to the sense he was getting here.

In the very center was a small stone, about three feet high by two in circumference. Unlike the larger stones which all had rough surfaces, this stone was carved smooth, a perfect pillar. From the open end of the horseshoe, a path went straight out toward the northeast, the road Ragnarok had spied earlier. The dirt in the path was worn down by generations of feet.

“What you seek should be under that,” Penarddun said. “We call it the memory stone.

“No one has dared touch that stone for as long as it is remembered among the Druids.” She waved her hand about. “We worship here, but go no further than where I am standing. After purification in the River Avon we come up the Processional Way- there is a stone in the midst of the pathway- the heelstone, which is a warning against coming that way for those who are not believers.

“When the midsummer sun comes up, it is on line with the memory stone, highlighting and then casting the longest shadow possible toward the sunset stones-” she gestured at the pair of tall stones they were between.

“The legend is that the memory stone was placed here by the ancient ones when they first came here fleeing the Shadow. That the stone is not to be disturbed until it is time.”

“Is the time now?” Tam Nok asked.

“You should know the answer to that,” Penarddun said.

“The Shadow is growing,” Tam Nok said. “I saw it over Angkor Kol Ker, my people’s city that was destroyed by the Shadow. I saw it in other places as I traveled here. In the high mountains north of India was a place of the Shadow. In the vast emptiness of the land of the steppe riders, there was another. Along the shore of the Norsemen, there was a place of shadow. It was the same in all four places. The Shadow is darker now than it has been in living memory. The words handed down among my people is that when the Shadow becomes black, the end is near. The same was the belief of those who lived near the other places of Shadow I passed. There were some differences in the legends and story but the core was the same.

“The Earth is unquiet in places. It trembles and shakes. Mountains of fire are rumbling, in some places bringing forth burning rock. I have traveled far and across many lands and it is true everywhere. The only thing that can stop the Shadow from taking over the rest of the world is the Shield left us by the Ones Before. My search for that weapon has led me here, so I must believe it is time.”

Ragnarok didn’t think it was time to go forward- he thought a hasty retreat back to his ship was long overdue. He felt a trickle of sweat roll down his left temple, a strange thing given the unnatural chill in the air.

Tam Nok walked into the very center of Stonehenge and up to the memory stone. She placed her hands on it. She knelt, hands wrapped around the stone, her head against it as if listening.

Ragnarok fidgeted, nervous with the ponderous weight of the lintel stone above his head. There was a dull glow on the horizon, in the direction the horseshoe opened to. Dawn was not far off.

Tam Nok stood and waved for them to come forward. Ragnarok would have preferred to go in any other direction but he knew he could not show fear in front of the women. He walked forward, his feet dragging as if in deep sand.

“We must lift the stone,” Tam Nok said.

Ragnarok noted there were strange, very faint, carvings in the top of the stone. “What does that say?”

“I do not know,” Tam Nok said.

“I thought you could read the writings of the ancients?”

“I can, but this is something different.”

“How are you sure then that we should disturb this?” Ragnarok asked.

“I paid you,” Tam Nok said. “Lift the stone.”

“You paid me to bring you here,” Ragnarok said.

Tam Nok pulled her hood back and turned to stare at the Viking. Her almond eyes searched his. Ragnarok took a step back.

“Please help me lift this stone,” Tam Nok said.

“We do not have time for all this!” Penarddun said. “Dawn will be here soon and we must be away by then.”

Ragnarok looked down. He had no idea how deep the stone went into the ground. He put his ax down and squatted, wrapping both arms around the rock. He lifted with his legs, straining.

The stone didn’t move at all.

He tried once more, putting all his energy into moving up. His hands slid off the stone and he fell backwards onto the cold dirt. He started to get up then paused, putting his head against the ground. He listened for several seconds, then stood.

“Someone is coming.” Ragnarok pointed to the east. “From that direction. Mounted on horses.”

Penarddun stepped back. “The King’s men.”

Tam Nok was looking in the direction he pointed, then she slowly pivoted, doing a complete circle. “Others are coming also. More dangerous than men on horses. Valkyries. And something else,” her voice trailed off as if she were listening. “Someone else is coming.”

Ragnarok picked up his ax. He did not like their situation- in the middle of a large plain with horsemen and demonesses bearing down on them. “We must go.”

“We have to get what is under the stone!” Tam Nok existed.

“It will do us no good if we’re dead,” Ragnarok argued. “And I cannot lift it right now by myself.”

Penarddun was still moving, passing through the lintel of the inner circle, escaping to the west.

Ragnarok grabbed Tam Nok’s arm. “We must leave now.” He pulled her after Penarddun. The eastern sky was brighter, the sun ready to rise above the horizon.

Tam Nok shook his hand off her shoulder. “We have to get what is under the stone.”

“Fine,” Ragnarok agreed. “Tomorrow night. Now, can we get out of here?”

Tam Nok pulled her hood back up and followed through the inner circle then the outer. Ragnarok could hear the horses now, hooves thudding on hard-packed dirt, coming closer. He looked over his shoulder. A troop of men, about eight or nine, were a half mile away and heading directly for Stonehenge.

Tam Nok dashed forward and grabbed Penarddun. “That way!” She pointed to the north.

“We can make the barrows and hide,” Penarddun protested.

“There is more danger from the barrows,” Tam Nok said. “The Valkyries are coming from there.” Without another word, she ran to the north. Penarddun glanced at Ragnarok, who shrugged then sprinted after his charge. The druid priestess followed.

Ragnarok felt a chill on his neck, even as he began releasing the battle lust inside of himself. They were clear of the outer circle of standing stones. The horsemen were still heading toward Stonehenge, not aware that there were interlopers in the area.

Ragnarok and his companions passed through the small ditch and were clear of Stonehenge. The nearest barrow was a half mile away. Ragnarok knew if they were spotted, the horsemen could run them down before they could reach that cover. And the sky to the east was growing brighter with each passing moment.

Ragnarok stopped and turned, not to the east, but facing south. He realized Tam Nok had also stopped and was looking in the same direction. Penarddun ran a few more yards then also stopped.

Something was moving very fast in the southern sky, coming directly toward them, about a hundred feet up in the air.

Ragnarok released the battle rage. Three Valkyries were coming toward them, blood red cloaks floating behind in the air.

Ragnarok heard yells to his left- the horsemen had spotted him and his partners. The Valkyries would be on them before the horsemen and there was no doubt which was the greater threat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tam Nok pull the small shield she had used in the fjord out of her cloak and unsheathe her long knife. The shield was a foot high by six inches thick- not very large in Ragnarok’s opinion.

“We will cross to Valhalla together,” he said.

“You are in too much of a rush to die, warrior,” Tam Nok said. “Think about living.”

Penarddun was behind them. She had dropped to her knees upon spotting the Valkyries and she was chanting in her druid tongue.

The Valkyries spread out, twenty feet between each, and descended until they touched the ground less than ten feet in front of Ragnarok and Tam Nok.

“Hlokk, Goll and Skogul,” Tam Nok said, identifying the creatures from left to right.

Ragnarok knew the names from the legends his mother had told him- Hlokk the Shrieker, Goll the Screamer and Skogul the Rager. The only way he could tell the difference between them was the pattern of red and black on their cloaks and he didn’t have the time right now to study that.

“I have never seen them out of the mist, in the open,” Tam Nok said. “This is something new.”

Ragnarok cared little for their names or if this was something new. So far the creatures had been totally silent. They were tall dark shadows, seven feet tall, their shape hidden under their cloaks, their faces flat and featureless except for the burning red eyes. Ragnarok felt the malevolence of that stare like the fury of a pack of wolves closing on a wounded animal.

Ragnarok had never believed in giving away the initiative. Without another thought, he dashed forward, ax upraised toward the Valkyrie on the right, Skogul.

He swung a mighty blow and Skogul swept a long arm out and took the blade straight on. Ragnarok’s arms almost went numb from the recoil of the ax bouncing off the Valkyrie’s arm without leaving a dent. With the other arm, Skogul hit the Viking a back-handed blow on the side and threw him ten feet in a tumble.

Ragnarok got to his knees, then his feet, shaking his head. The other two Valkyries were circling around Tam Nok and Penarddun. Skogul was flowing forward toward Ragnarok, claws now extended on both hands, the bottom of her cloak a few inches clear of the ground with nothing apparently supporting her.

A thundering sound came from behind. A horse and rider flashed by Ragnarok on his right, the rider screaming a war cry, tip of the spear leading.

Skogul slid left, the spear just missing. The creature’s left hand, claws first, slammed into the rider’s chest, piercing the linked-iron armor shirt. The warrior screamed and writhed like a spitted fish as Skogul lifted him off the horse which bolted away in terror.

Ragnarok growled and ran forward, swinging his ax at the arm that held the man. Skogul threw the dying warrior directly at the Viking, knocking him to the ground once more and covering him with the last spurts of blood out of the Saxon’s chest.

The rest of the mounted warriors were thundering down on the Valkyries screaming their war cries. A golden beam shot out from Goll toward Tam Nok, who reflected it with her small shield. Another beam from Hlokk flashed and was bounced away.

Then the seven remaining soldiers of the king were among the Valkyries in a flurry of swords, spears and claws. Tam Nok grabbed Ragnarok as he started to charge toward Skogul once more.

“No! You cannot defeat them here and now!”

Ragnarok heard the screams of the men being killed by the demon creatures. Penarddun was already fifty feet away and running furiously to the north, toward the river. Ragnarok felt caught- between fighting the Valkyries, the King’s men, and doing what his charge said.

Tam Nok pulled him once more and Ragnarok followed. She moved surprisingly quickly and he had to lengthen his stride to keep up. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw that only two warriors still stood, unhorsed, fighting back to back as the three Valkyries closed in. And then they were down in a flurry of claws.

The first ray of the sun sliced across the plain and hit the memory stone, casting a long shadow toward the center Mega-Sarsen stones.

Ragnarok paused as the Valkyries screamed in unison, the sound echoing across the plane. He stopped and spun, ax at the ready. But the three were leaving the corpses, bloody claws reluctantly letting go of mangled bodies. They floated up almost a hundred feet and then as if blown by a strong wind, rapidly disappeared to the west, chasing the darkness.