The Quest for Valhalla

Chapter 34

While Sam and Gunnar settled the unconscious Nina on the captain’s bed below deck, Eldard was on the internet. He had to get to the bottom of Nina’s ailment without having to consult a doctor. The risk of finding an illegal substance in her system was just too high. Besides, he figured that was exactly what Lita and her monsters banked on. Personally, he would have taken the chance, had they not been pushing a time limit. The Festival of St. Blod was almost here, and if Valhalla’s malevolent captive was to be released, it would be on the day of St. Blod. The Black Sun would certainly pursue the opportunity and therefore the champions of The Brotherhood, he and his three allies, would have to abandon all other agendas to make it there on time — wherever it was.

That was cause for more concern. They still did not know where the place was.

Nina was murmuring as Sam removed her shoes and the boat groaned onward over the water of the Danube back towards Regensburg. Her wet hair clung to her skin as she panted from the escalating fever.

“She is in terrible pain, Gunnar. What are we going to do?” Sam whispered.

“Eldard is checking on what could be causing this. Once he knows, we will get her something for the pain. I adore that woman. Really, I do, but we cannot neglect this mission, Sam. By the way, you don’t exactly look ready to fuck a harem of belly dancers, either. When last did you have something to eat? You have to look after your own health, too. We need her and we need you. I can’t do this on my own and you know that,” Gunnar explained in a low grunt that made his whisper just a bit more audible over the roar of the boat’s engine.

They looked at the moaning, frail woman on the bed. She was clutching her stomach, salivating profusely, and muttering a mixture of things about a rock with red paint on.

“You stay with her,” Gunnar said. “I am going to see if we can get her something for the pain.” With that he ascended up the stairs.

Sam sat down on the bed, holding Nina’s hand in his, her bandaged forearm over his thigh. He refused to give in to what felt suspiciously like a crying spell, but it did not help his despair subside. If only he could manipulate these visions he could rush them along, but even when he now hurt himself to initiate the waking dreams, nothing came of it. It was growing late in the day and he felt the hand of fatigue sweep his brow.

They were still 40 minutes from Regensburg and he was exhausted.

“Just a quick nap. Just quickly,” Sam mumbled, and gently lay down next to Nina. His weary eyes closed for but a minute when she suddenly sat up with a start, it gave him a potent shock of fright.

“I’ve got it!” she exclaimed. “I saw it! I know this shit now!” She noticed the lanky male body next to her. “Sam? Are you so desperate to tell people we sleep together?”

Sam was not amused, ripped from the much needed embrace of Morpheus. Nina was loud. She grabbed him and turned him on his back, sliding her wet hair back over her ears.

“I dreamed it before! Now I dreamed it again, sort of. But this time, it helped me recall the first dream I had a while back before all this started, Sam!” she babbled. “Give me your phone, quick. I have to look up that number Eldard wrote at the bottom!”

In the fresh cool air up on deck, the two bikers were navigating websites on their cell phones to research Nina’s symptoms. There were many possibilities, all of which spelled a bad outcome. Astonished at the small woman’s resilience, they watched an excited Nina come at them with a befuddled Sam in tail.

“We got it, guys!” she shouted with a small measure of pain in her voice. Now and then, as Nina spoke, she would catch a quick gasp. “I dreamed this a long time ago. I don’t know why, but I did. This whole… whole…” she gestured wildly, only too grateful that she could contribute to the mysterious side of the entire search, “…like an epic saga played out in my dream and this voice telling the story.”

The three men stared at her in mute amazement. “Never mind that, look here,” she said and showed them the sequence she had dreamed of, that coincided with the strange combination of numbers Eldard had. “The number represents a place in Iceland. I Googled it,” she smiled happily, although her eyes bore evidence of rapidly deteriorating health and energy. “The town is called Reykjavík and the ‘871±2’ part is the name of a permanent exhibition of the alleged first longhouse in Iceland, a hall from the Viking Age and other shit,” she babbled as she checked the information on Sam’s cell phone.

Her breath raced as she explained, so Sam thought to take control of the conversation, “Okay, so… that cannot be Valhalla, right? Because, if it was Valhalla, wouldn’t it be guarded instead of tons of tourists walking through it all day. What I want to know is, if The Brotherhood’s sole purpose is to protect unwanted agents from finding Valhalla, why do they not know where it is?”

Gunnar looked amused.

“You think that is the sole purpose of our order?” he chuckled. “No, my friend, our tentacles are a little longer than that. But, the lady warriors of The Brotherhood, also called Knights of the Hammer, hailed directly from fathers who walked with Wotan, the chieftain.”

‘Wotan, the chieftain in my dream at the river,’ Nina remembered.

Gunnar continued, “Along the ages, some of the information had to be encoded over several sites to preserve the secret, just in case they were ever infiltrated or in the event of the entire order being killed off before the information was passed on, see?”

Sam nodded. Eldard brought them each a beer from the fridge, “Captain says about 10 more minutes,” he announced.

“So that is why Val was so protective of the vial when the museum robberies started,” Nina noted.

“Yes.” She could see a flicker of longing in Gunnar’s eyes at the mention of his late wife’s name and her burning eyes looked over to Sam. She remembered him saying he wouldn’t know what to do if she had to perish, a cherished memory she hoped would be the essence of Sam’s feelings. It denoted a similar loyalty as that which she saw in Gunnar and the idea made her heart jump just a little.

“Hello!” they heard Eldard chime and he raised his hand in an amicable wave.

Nina, Sam, and Gunnar turned to see who he was greeting, and promptly joined in, waving with a smile towards the other boat which trailed happily a short distance behind them to the left. They found it endearing that senior citizens that mature still went out and enjoyed life, having no idea that the two old men from Tomar were not in Regensburg for the sights.

When the four companions arrived at Keflavík International Airport, it was freezing. It was not quite into autumn, it was an odd weather day in Iceland. Fortunately, they had catered for such conditions with windbreakers and plenty of socks, not to mention, the daily intake of blood warming liquor. From there, they took a taxi to Reykjavík City where Nina booked them into a small motel where they could stay overnight. There was a quaint, white building with those lumpy walls one would expect of a structure erected in the previous century with bulging rocks and untrimmed beams of wood.

Their accommodation was at the small house behind it, just peeking from the driveway. Brightly painted in red and green, the roof was also green to compliment the posts of the porch, upon which several large wooden benches boasted embroidered cushions made by the owner’s wife.

After an unsuccessful dinner, Nina retired to her room in alarming haste, assuring the men that she was just very tired, even though she slept for most of the time on the plane. Her male companions noticed that her tone was subdued under shortness of breath and she constantly excused herself to go to the ladies room.

“We have to get her something for that fatigue,” Eldard said as he sipped the last of his beer, trying to sound unassuming. Sam leaned forward on his elbows and spoke as quietly as possible.

“Did you look up her symptoms?” he asked the big tattoo artist.

He nodded, sinking his chin and looked at them, “I think it is Arsenic Trioxide they planted in her.”

Sam felt his heart sink and Gunnar cleared his throat before asking, “How would they slow release it without feeding it to her every day, then?”

“You saw that surgical method they used. Remember, we are not dealing with gay plastic surgeons with a penchant for branding pretty women with infamous symbology, pal,” Eldard said, thrusting the point of his index finger on the table with conviction. “These are the sickest Nazi motherfuckers of the lot. They have inexhaustible quantities of chemicals that the world’s best scientists had never even heard of. You are talking about people who have the knowledge to twist physics and alter genetic make-up as if they’re making toast.”

Sam poured another shot of the local fire water and downed it. He caught his breath and shook his head wildly from the bitter aftertaste, then asked, “What is your take on the release of it, if you can think like them?”

“I think they engineered a biological gel or something similar, containing a lethal amount of arsenate, which would bond to her tissue,” Eldard speculated. “That disk of flat skin? I think they smeared that stuff on the flesh under it and replaced the skin to seal it in. And ever since, small particles of it would be assimilated through tissue and blood, slowly poisoning her to death.”

Sam felt sick; it was all one living nightmare. He was about to lose Nina, he was plagued by a mickey from hell that had him running from rabid dogs and she-males in his sleep and if he did not put out soon, it would literally be the end of the world.

“That’s me for the night, lads,” he said suddenly, shoving his leftover beer toward the center of the table. They lifted their bottles in a salute and he went upstairs. When he passed Nina’s room, he could hear her throwing up, but he decided not to disturb her. Now that he had some idea of what was coursing through her bloodstream, he would figure out a way to find her treatment while they raced the enemy to Valhalla.

Lethargic from the day’s travel, the alcohol and the ever-present vile elixir Sam, fell on the bed in the dark room. The lantern outside cast some light in through the window, but other than the square projected on his bed and floor, there was nothing but shadows and shapes around him when he closed his eyes. He did not even bother to undress to get into bed, just kicking off his shoes and shedding his jacket, and before he could gather the pillow to lay his head upon he fell into a deep sleep.

Nightmare after nightmare hounded him, from the ice of Wolfenstein to the hell of the U-boats. Then he would fall from tall buildings or be trapped under a thin sheet of ice while Nina watched from above. Then she would drop to her knees on the window of ice between them so that he could get a closer look at her flesh falling from her bones while he drowned in the frigid water underneath. All the while, he would hear the horses from Walhalla running, neighing deep in his mind. As the water engulfed him again and again, Sam felt the sensation of hands reaching inside his mouth and prying his jaws apart.

Suddenly, he awoke with a jolt of adrenaline so strong that he almost fell off the bed. Nervously touching his open mouth, Sam realized that it had been just another score of nightmares plaguing him once more. But in the dark of the room, something stirred in the corner between the cupboard and the wall. It was enormous and faintly luminous, while the awful echo of the horses remained in Sam’s ears. He was certain that he was awake, but the horses would not relent in their wailing and scoffing.

From the shadows, it emerged as Sam sat up on the bed and retreated up against the headboard. Before him, mildly glowing, stood a horse. It was missing both coat and flesh, eyes and mane. Entirely made of bone, the skeletal animal pawed the wooden floor repeatedly with its left front hoof. Louder and louder it became, until Sam had to plug his ears with his fingertips. It dipped its head into a large, coppery bowl that bore ornate etchings and runes. There were four of these around the glowing horse and the row of bowls prevented the horse from progressing towards Sam.

“What in God’s name?” Gunnar shouted crisply in his ears and Sam started from his vision. His eyes like saucers, he panted as the sweat rolled from his chest and face. Repeatedly, he pounded his fist on the floor, simulating precisely the sound of the hoof. Now he realized that Eldard had seized his wrist to make him stop.

“What did you see, Sam?” Gunnar asked, his face twisted in eager sincerity warped by the play of light from the window.

“We have to look for another horse, I think. A dead horse… pawing the ground with one hoof? And four huge… pots, I think?” Sam frowned. That was all he had. But as they had learned by now, once at the site, even the most absurd things had a way of making sense.