The Valhalla Prophecy

26

‘So,’ said Eddie as they advanced down the tunnel, ‘what are we looking for?’

Even with her misgivings, Tova was still a professional. ‘According to the mythology, there is a large main hall roofed with golden shields. I would say it is the most likely place to find anything.’

Ahead, the entrance tunnel ended at a junction, new passages heading left and right. ‘Which way?’ asked Kagan.

Tova shook her head. ‘I do not know.’

‘Nor do I,’ admitted Berkeley.

Nina glowered at him. ‘Colour me surprised.’

Eddie produced a flashlight, and shone it down the right-hand passage. ‘We should’ve brought that chainsaw.’ Gnarled roots hung down to the floor like a curtain, one of the ash trees above having broken through the ceiling beams. ‘Let’s try the other way.’

The group went left. A low doorway led into a side room, but Nina’s torch beam revealed only mouldering sacks covered in dirt. Whatever supplies the Vikings had left behind had long since rotted or been consumed by burrowing animals and insects. A short way on, the tunnel made a sharp turn to the right — and Eddie, leading, stopped immediately after rounding it. ‘Buggeration. Don’t think we’ll get through this way.’ The ceiling had collapsed, broken beams jutting from tons of fallen soil. More ash roots clawed their way into the space.

‘There is something up there,’ Kagan said, pointing. Eddie moved the beam to find the remains of a large bird near the top of the dirt pile.

‘It is an eagle,’ said Tova, dismayed. ‘It must have come in through a hole looking for food, and been trapped.’

Nina felt brief sympathy for the majestic predator, but it was not the only thing caught in the tunnels. ‘We’ll have to go back. Come on.’

They quickly retraced their steps. Eddie glanced towards the entrance. The mercenaries had wisely decided not to try to force open the doors again, but he knew that Hoyt’s next attempt would involve explosives. ‘We’ll need to snap off some of those roots so we can get through,’ he said as they continued. ‘Kagan, give me a hand. Berkeley, you can make yourself useful too.’

‘Why should I help you?’ the American whined.

‘’Cause I’ll beat the shit out of you if you don’t.’

Berkeley blanched. ‘Since you put it like that…’

Tova took Eddie’s torch as the three men reached the roots. Berkeley broke off a few smaller branches, while Eddie and Kagan concentrated on one of the larger limbs. They both had to strain, but with a splintering crack it broke away. The gap it left was not wide, but Eddie was able to squeeze through to yank at the thinner obstructions beyond. He tossed the broken roots aside and hunched lower. More dried talons scratched at him as he forced his way past, but he was soon through. ‘There’s another corner,’ he announced, illuminating the passage beyond as Nina started to follow. A short walk to the left turn, and: ‘This way’s clear.’

‘Can you see anything?’ she called.

‘Looks like more rooms and tunnels off to the side. This place’d better not be some sort of maze.’

Tova sounded uncomfortable, and not solely because she was pushing through the roots behind Nina. ‘Some of the descriptions of Valhalla say it is surrounded by a labyrinth.’

‘Hopefully not the euhemeristic ones,’ said Nina, joining her husband. Tova emerged, followed by Berkeley and finally Kagan. The Russian was about to continue down the passage, but Nina held up a hand. ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’ Distant shouts came from the entrance; from their tone not pain or warnings, but orders.

‘Then we’d better shift,’ said Eddie, setting off. ‘Tova, where’s the route to the eitr pits most likely to be?’

‘At the centre,’ she said. ‘If Valhalla was built like a traditional Viking hall, its ceiling would be highest there. The main hall has a ceremonial function; that is where it will be.’

‘So it’ll be on our left,’ said Nina. The left wall of the long tunnel appeared unbroken, in contrast to the several exits on the right. At its far end was another T-junction. ‘And we know how big the barrow is, so… it’s got to be round that next corner.’

They hurried down the passage. Nina was first to reach the turn, going left. ‘This must be it!’ she cried.

‘Yes, it has to be,’ Tova gasped in agreement. Berkeley was equally impressed.

About forty feet away, another tunnel heading east intersected the one they had entered. Facing it in the left wall was a set of large double doors, framed by elaborately carved oaken pillars. Other doorways on the opposite side of the passage led into more small rooms, but the group ignored them as they made their way to the majestic entrance.

Eddie looked down the broad eastern passage. ‘They closed that off deliberately,’ he said, playing his torch beam over a sturdy barricade blocking the tunnel. More roots had wormed through the ceiling beams, loose earth piled at the barrier’s foot.

‘That would have been the main entrance,’ said Tova. ‘They must have closed it up when they buried the hall, so the only way in was through the death-barrier.’

‘And the only way to get through that without being killed was with the compasses,’ added Nina, holding up the two discs. ‘They wanted to make sure that only people they considered worthy — true Viking warriors on their way to Ragnarök — could get in.’

‘So does that make us Vikings?’ Eddie asked with a grin as they reached the doors. ‘I mean, you have got red hair…’

Nina smiled back, then examined the carvings. ‘These are beautiful,’ she said, admiring the workmanship. Intertwining patterns of leaves, branches and what appeared to be snakes — or a snake, singular, she realised as she followed the seemingly endless curves of the stylised reptile’s body — ran up the pillars. Above the doors, the lintel was decorated with representations of horsemen, longships — and at the very centre, a face. A bearded man, features partially concealed behind his helmet’s faceguard.

Tova saw it too. ‘Is that… could that be Odin?’

‘I think it could be,’ Nina replied. The stern visage, a deep scar running down over one closed eye, glowered down at them as if challenging them to enter the room beyond.

Berkeley had momentarily forgotten his status as a prisoner. ‘There’s much more detail than I would have expected,’ he opined. ‘And the helmet seems like a more elaborate version of the Ringerike find, so yes, undoubtedly someone of very high status. Wouldn’t you agree, Dr Skilfinger?’

‘Yes, yes, I…’ Tova began, before trailing off and giving him an odd look. Nina also shot him a disapproving glare.

‘Okay, so it’s a nice antique,’ Eddie said impatiently. ‘But is it likely to be booby-trapped?’

‘I would not think so,’ said Tova. ‘The death-barrier was the trap — anyone who passed it would be assumed to be a warrior, and so worthy to enter.’

All the same, the Englishman shooed the others back and lifted the corroded iron latch at arm’s length. But there was no rattle of deadly mechanisms from the other side. He cautiously opened the door. His torch revealed shapes in the darkness beyond, faint glints of metal reflecting back, but nothing moved. ‘Odin sesame…’ he said, pushing harder.

The oak door swung wider, revealing the chamber beyond.

The great hall of Valhalla.

Nina and Eddie panned their lights around the room as they entered, the others close behind. As Tova had suggested, the vaulted ceiling was high, a good forty feet above the floor at its peak. But unlike the passages outside, there was more to the roof than simple dark wooden beams. ‘Wow!’ Nina said, awed, as her flashlight beam was reflected back at her with a much warmer tint. ‘Look at that.’

‘Amazing!’ Berkeley said, staring in wonder. The entire ceiling was covered by overlapping golden plates, the effect resembling a snake’s scales. Each plate was at least four feet in length and nearly as wide.

‘It is as the poem Grímnismál described it,’ Tova told them, wide-eyed in wonderment. ‘A roof made of golden shields — and look! The rafters are like the shafts of spears.’ Unlike the squared-off, axe-cut beams in the tunnels, these had been carved into more rounded cross-sections.

Eddie lowered his torch to illuminate tables and benches, the source of the metal gleams draped over them. ‘Looks like chainmail,’ he said, going to the nearest table.

Tova joined him. ‘They are called byrnies — shirts of chain armour. Also just like Grímnismál!’

Kagan moved deeper into the room, but almost stumbled over something. Nina shone her light down at his feet. ‘Good thing you didn’t kick it too hard, or you might have needed a tetanus shot.’ The obstruction was a large double-bladed axe, the head speckled with rust.

‘They’re all over the place,’ Eddie reported, sweeping his beam across the flagstones. The floor was noticeably cleaner than outside, the golden scales on the roof holding back the soil, but it was instead strewn with straw… and discarded weapons: knives, swords, axes and even spears. More such items lay on the tables. ‘Christ, so they just chucked the stuff down wherever and hoped that the sword fairy’d pick up after them?’

‘Like you and your socks,’ Nina joked. Taking care not to step on anything, she headed down the great hall. The room was well over a hundred feet long, and almost three quarters as wide. As she advanced, she spotted something on the far wall. ‘Tova, look at this.’

The Swede joined her as they approached a stone dais, on which stood three ornate thrones, dark carved oak decorated with silver and gold detailings. But it was not the chairs that had caught the attention of the archaeologists; rather, what was on the wall behind them. More runes were carved into granite slabs, around them running a now familiar symbol: the snaking form of Jörmungandr, the Midgard Serpent. ‘What do they say?’ Eddie asked.

Tova examined the inscriptions. ‘These are definitely very old, from possibly as long ago as AD 200. It is the early runic alphabet of twenty-four characters, not the sixteen from after AD 800. Let me see if I can translate them…’

‘Actually, I may be able to speed things along,’ said Berkeley haughtily. He raised his tablet computer, only to flinch as Eddie pointed the Wildey at him. ‘Whoa, whoa! It’s a translation app. It’s a lot faster than doing it the old-fashioned way.’

‘For you, perhaps,’ said Tova, offended.

Eddie looked at Nina, who shrugged. ‘We know his program works, otherwise he wouldn’t be here,’ she pointed out.

‘Don’t try anything,’ Eddie rumbled as he ushered Berkeley to the dais.

Now it was the rogue archaeologist’s turn to take offence. ‘I’m as interested in this as anyone. Well, okay, maybe not you. Although I have no idea what you’re interested in. Apart from swearing and violence, obviously.’

‘Hegelian dialecticism, mate,’ the Yorkshireman replied, to Berkeley’s surprise. ‘All right, see if your iPad can do better than a real person.’

Still aggrieved, Berkeley switched on his tablet and brought up an app before aiming its camera at the runes. Nina sidled up to her husband. ‘Since when are you interested in Hegelian dialecticism?’ she whispered.

He chuckled. ‘Since never — I don’t even know what the fuck it means. It was a question on Jeopardy, that’s all.’

Nina sighed. ‘For one brief moment, I thought I’d got you interested in philosophy. Oh well…’

‘Look at this,’ said Tova. She indicated part of the runes. ‘These do describe the route to one of the eitr pits, I have read that much already.’

‘I agree; these are definitely directions,’ Berkeley added. Nina went to him and regarded his tablet’s screen. The app was similar to programs she had used herself; the user photographed ancient text, and it employed pattern recognition algorithms to identify words, which were then translated into English. The computer was working through the runes line by line. Such software lacked nuance; the translations were blunt and often awkwardly phrased, and could not compete with the work of a human expert, but were effective enough at uncovering the gist of the original text. ‘Almost a step-by-step guide. Look, here — it starts by telling you to travel across Bifröst and back down the river to the lightning lake.’

‘But are those the directions to the eitr pit the Soviets already found, or the other one?’ Nina asked.

‘I don’t know yet. It’ll take a while for it to translate the whole thing.’

Eddie glanced back towards the entrance. ‘Yeah, you just take your time, mate. No rush.’

‘I think I can be faster,’ said Tova. She was examining one of the blocks of runes, running her finger over the ancient text — but rather than doing so line by line, she was skipping quickly through it, picking out key words. ‘I know where these directions lead.’

Nina and Berkeley hurried across to her. ‘Where?’ Nina asked.

Tova tapped on one particular word. ‘Here. This says “Helluland”. It is the Old Norse name for—’

‘Baffin Island!’ Berkeley interrupted. He raised his tablet and took a snapshot of the text. ‘Of course, it makes sense. There’s archaeological evidence that Vikings had reached there even before Leif Erikson. Tanfield Valley, Kimmirut—’

Tova shot him an annoyed glare. ‘Those finds are not conclusive. But…’ she read on, ‘this may help confirm them. The runes say where to land on Helluland, and from there,’ excitement filled her face, ‘it tells us the way to Jörmungandr’s western lair!’

‘That is what I feared,’ said Kagan. He strode to the group of archaeologists, and before anyone could react snatched Berkeley’s tablet from his hands and dashed it to the floor. The screen cracked, shards of glass scattering.

‘Hey!’ Berkeley protested. ‘What — what are you doing?’

‘My job.’ The Russian shoved the two women aside, Berkeley already having retreated in shocked fear, and drew his gun. ‘Get back.’

Nina grabbed the startled Swede and pulled her away as Kagan aimed at the carved runes and fired at almost point-blank range. Gritty splinters spat at them as the bullet shattered a palm-sized chunk of the ancient stone. ‘Jesus!’ Nina yelped. ‘Why the hell did you do that?’

‘This is the best way to make sure that nobody finds the eitr,’ Kagan told her. ‘We destroy the runes and the sun compasses. That way, nobody will be able to follow the path of the Vikings.’

Nina interposed herself between him and the carved text. Kagan lowered his gun, but did not put it away. ‘And you’re going to do that by shooting them to pieces?’

‘We have no explosives, so it is either that or hit them with axes. And we do not have much time — Hoyt and his men will soon blow up the gate. Now move.’

‘But this is Valhalla!’ Tova protested. ‘It is the most incredible Norse site to be discovered in centuries. Nina, you can’t let him destroy it.’

‘I don’t intend to,’ Nina assured her.

‘You must,’ Kagan insisted. ‘You are the director of the IHA — you know what is at stake here! This is a matter of global security, not archaeology. We have to destroy the runes. Quickly!’

Nina looked to her husband for support, but he shook his head. ‘Sorry, but he’s right. We can’t let Hoyt get hold of this shit. It’s too dangerous.’

‘Dammit, Eddie!’ she cried. ‘If we translate the runes, we give Unit 201 a chance to use Thor’s Hammer on the eitr and neutralise it!’

That gave Kagan pause for thought, but Eddie was unswayed. ‘And if it doesn’t work, they’ll nuke the fucking place! That’ll do a world of good for global security, won’t it? Especially if it turns out the other pit’s in Norway or Scotland, or even the States.’

Kagan’s moment of doubt passed. ‘It must be done.’ He brought his gun back up — aiming at Nina. ‘Move aside.’

She flinched, but held firm. ‘No. There has to be another way.’

The Russian was unmoved. ‘I will shoot through you if I have to—’

Eddie’s own gun snapped up, finding a target: Kagan’s head. ‘Oi! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

Kagan tensed, but held his position. ‘Chase, we have to do this. You know I am right!’

‘Yeah, I know, but hello! You’re pointing a fucking gun at my wife! I don’t care how right you are, I’ll fucking shoot you if you don’t—’

The whole chamber shook at the piercing boom of an explosion.

A couple of the golden shields on the roof broke loose and dropped to the ground with echoing clangs, clods of soil falling between the newly exposed beams. ‘Shit!’ said Eddie. ‘They’re in.’

Shouts echoed through the tunnels outside — along with the muffled clamour of footsteps. ‘What do we do?’ Nina asked. She swept her torch around the walls. The wooden doors through which they had come were the only apparent exit.

‘If we give up and let them photograph the runes, they might let us go,’ Tova suggested fearfully.

‘Hoyt’s not going to offer us any deals.’ Eddie hustled to one of the tables near the doors and tipped it on to its side. The chainmail vests slid off and fell to the floor. He grabbed a couple and draped them over the thick old oak as extra protection. ‘He’s got no reason to let us live. Kagan, we’ll have to hold ’em off as long as we can. Have you got a spare magazine?’

The Russian overturned another table. ‘One only.’

‘Make every shot count, then. Some of ’em got hit by the booby-trap — if they start running out of people, they might fall back.’ The noises from the tunnels grew louder; the intruders had spotted the broken roots and knew which way to go to follow their quarry. ‘Nina, you and Tova find cover and stay down.’

‘Wait, what about me?’ Berkeley quailed as the women crouched behind the wooden thrones.

‘They’re your friends, what are you worried about?’ Nina said.

‘Then maybe I should just walk out of here.’

‘Or maybe you should shut the fuck up and keep your head down,’ barked Eddie.

‘Or, yes, that.’ Berkeley scuttled to hide behind one of the benches.

‘Nina, put your light down and point it at the doors,’ the Englishman told her, doing the same with his own torch. The twin beams illuminated the entrance. They were not blindingly bright, but he hoped they would produce enough dazzle to confuse anyone entering the large room, even if only for a moment.

He readied the Wildey. A moment was all he needed.

Footsteps in the hallway outside. Low voices; the mercenaries had seen the light coming through the part-open doors. He knew from his own training what Hoyt and his men would be thinking. There was only one way in — but anyone taking it would be completely exposed. Would they try to reconnoitre first… or gamble on the shock tactics of a sudden frontal assault?

The voices dropped to urgent whispers. One issued an impatient command. Eddie couldn’t make out the words, but knew who had spoken them: Hoyt. Whatever the mercenaries planned, they were about to do it. He watched intently for any movement through the gap.

Someone shifted in the shadows. Not at the door, but several yards back down the barricaded passage. Eddie caught the faint gleam of gunmetal as a man brought up his P90 to shoot out the lights…

The Englishman fired first, the Wildey’s retort like cannonfire. Tova shrieked and covered her ears. The man outside flew backwards with a thumb-sized hole in his sternum — and an exit wound the size of a clenched fist in his back. ‘Holy fuck!’ someone gasped.

‘Hoyt!’ Eddie shouted as the gunshot’s echoes faded. ‘That was your warning — pack up and fuck off.’

A pause, then a humourless laugh came from the tunnel. ‘Chase, God damn. You’re like fuckin’ lung cancer — we think we’ve got rid of you, but then you pop back up and make life shit.’ He gave an order, but too quietly for Eddie to make out. ‘Y’know, we’ve had our differences, but we could reach a deal here. There’s a lot of money to be made.’

‘Go to hell,’ barked Kagan. ‘We will not let you find the source of the eitr. And your spy Slavin is dead.’

More muttering. ‘Is that Kagan?’ said Hoyt. ‘It’s getting like a damn high school reunion around here. Although there’s someone who’ll never get to attend, ain’t there, Chase? A cute little German girl?’

‘Bastard,’ Eddie growled, before raising his voice. ‘We smashed the runes, Hoyt! You’ll never find the other eitr pit.’

‘I reckon I’d like to see that for myself.’

‘Stick your head round the door and have a look.’

Hoyt did not reply at once, instead whispering to somebody. When he spoke again, Eddie was instantly on alert: there was anticipation in the American’s voice, even though he was trying to hide it. The mercenaries were about to make their move. ‘I think I’ll pass on that, Chase. But how about you—’

He broke off as someone kicked open one of the doors. Eddie snapped the Wildey around, but the man had already jerked back behind the wall.

A hand whipped into view, lobbing an object into the room. Eddie caught the briefest glimpse of something small and pale with a metal tube sticking from it as it flew overhead.

A glimpse was all he needed. It was a chunk of plastic explosive, the tube a detonator. It weighed little more than thirty grams — but an ounce of explosive was more than enough.

‘Down, get down!’ he screamed, throwing himself flat as the bomb arced down—

The detonation blasted a table apart and scattered discarded weapons and chainmail in all directions. Even prepared and protecting his senses as best he could, Eddie was still dazed.

Kagan had been slightly slower to dive for cover. He paid the price, a sharp chunk of pulverised wood stabbing through his coat into his shoulder like a dagger. Further away, Berkeley howled as the blast slammed the bench against him. Even at the far end of the room, Nina and Tova were knocked down and left stunned. The sun compass skittered across the dais.

Eddie forced his way through the pain and disorientation to open his eyes. He couldn’t see much — his torch had been sent spinning away, only dim outlines of the room’s furniture visible. The Wildey was still firmly in his right hand, however. He raised it and lifted his head—

Men were rushing into the room, weapons up and ready.

He swung his gun towards the pack, searching for Hoyt, but knew he was already too late. Bright lights pinned him. ‘Drop it, motherfucker!’ someone bellowed.

Defeated, Eddie turned the gun upwards. But before he could release the Wildey, someone pulled it from his hand. Blinking in the glare, he looked up to see Hoyt smirking at him. ‘Nice gun,’ said the mercenary leader. ‘Get up. Move over there.’ He gestured towards the far end of the room.

The injured Kagan was dragged to his feet, other mercenaries advancing through the chamber with their lights and guns aimed at Nina, Tova — and to Eddie’s surprise, Berkeley. The group was soon surrounded on the dais.

‘Search ’em,’ ordered Hoyt. As his men patted down the prisoners, the American pulled out the Wildey’s magazine and tossed it into the shadows, then racked the slide to eject the chambered round. It clinked on the stone floor. ‘They armed?’ he asked as he threw the gun away. The responses from the mercenaries were all in the negative.

‘What about the runes?’ said another man, also American. Eddie felt a sudden twinge of recognition. He knew the voice, even after eight years.

Hoyt shone a light over the wall. ‘Looks like they tried to smash ’em.’

‘Let’s hope for their sakes that they didn’t destroy anything crucial.’ The mercenaries stepped apart to let the speaker on to the dais.

Ivor Lock pulled down his hood, surveying the runes before turning to the prisoners. ‘Hello again, Chase.’