Tomb of Odin

Chapter 30

Kapellskär, a port a few miles from Stockholm, was under the onslaught of a heavy thunderstorm when Sam, Nina, Thomas, and Purdue arrived, courtesy of the Viking Line ferry service.

“Good thing I packed my boots,” Nina smiled, reveling in her travel companions’ expressions, for they, unfortunately, had neglected what every Scotsman knew was essential footwear.

“I’ll just buy us some new boots if these suffer damage, Sam,” Purdue bragged, “not to worry, pal.”

Sam was relieved. He gave Nina a childish leer and grunted. Thomas had lugged the heavy chain around for them in a strong canvas sack Purdue bought at an outdoor store in Poland. It was taxing on the big German, but with his sight nearly completely gone, he had no choice but to accompany the three Scots. The promise of the generator was probably a lie, but he figured that tagging along with them would possibly benefit him either way, until he could find out where the device really was.

He swore that Beinta Dock and her condescending troop of Vril baboons would suffer the loss of the generator, since he and his brothers were ejected from the Vril ranks for wanting more authority in the society. They were the product of Nazi experiments and delivered to the subterranean scientists to recover. There Thomas and his brothers learned that they were in fact not freaks of nature, but failures of godhood, thus making them better than humans but lesser than the inhabitants of Agartha.

This half-breed status soon threatened the Vril Society aboveground and they refused the brothers reentry to the world. This was where the break in ranks took form, during the metaphysical revolution of Heipannen off the coast of Finland in 1944. Since then the four outcasts had lived in seclusion, writing textbooks about physics and science, sometimes publishing propaganda on the hollow Earth theory and generally pissing off the Vril Society for telling the people of the world about their secrets. Mostly they were dismissed as conspiracy theorists, yet their published works and Internet sites did stir more trouble than the Vril Society could reject as myth and absurdity.

Thomas and his brothers had to take proactive action to avoid Cammerbach and his nosy academic fellows from finding one of the doorways to Agartha after centuries of being undiscovered. They enlisted the help of Neville Padayachee to act as guide and adviser on such excursions and then to divert the parties away from the real sites. But when Cammerbach ignored Padayachee’s advice and drilled through into one of the actual doorways, Thomas and his brothers had to interfere. While they were there, and the portal was open to their former home, they thought to obtain the generator before closing up the way again, away from the clumsy brain capacity and comprehension of the tenacious human race.

But then Nina Gould showed up. Not only was she threatening to expose them, she happened to be the perfect little mole to breach the laboratory of Section 2, to procure the generator. Pursuing her proved to be fatal for his brothers, Rudi, Deiter and Johann, and Thomas knew it would be senseless to risk his life any further.

“Thomas,” Nina said loudly, “are you ready?”

He nodded, “Where are we going?”

“Oh, you are going to be privy to something amazing, I’m sure, my friend,” Purdue smirked. “We are going to find the Tomb of Odin.”

“And what do you think is going to happen when you open that underworld, Mr. Purdue?” Thomas asked calmly. It was a side of him Nina had not seen before. His intellect overpowered his brutishness and she actually found herself considering what he was saying.

“Knowledge, I suppose,” Purdue answered. “As an inventor and scientist, I can vouch for the invaluable substance that next-level science could hold for the world’s current dynamic.”

Thomas leaned forward, his voice stronger than the rumble of the thunder in the sky, “Mr. Purdue, I implore you to take more pause in your decision. Really think, for once, and do not let your ego or your need for progress eclipse your common sense. What you wish to do is to open… Pandora’s Box…” he purred like a lion and gave Purdue a patronizing smile, “my friend.”

Nina and Sam exchanged glances. They did not like the barbaric genius one bit, but they had to concede that he had a fair point. Sam could see Nina’s concern and he agreed with her reluctance about this matter. But Purdue was adamant. His wanderlust and childlike curiosity was admirable, but most of the time it led to great peril for them all.

“We are going to Uppsala. Dr. Gould has deciphered the meanings of the clues, Thomas, and you should do better to not deter our plans,” Purdue retorted wryly, and got up to collect his luggage.

“What will we need to do?” Thomas asked Nina. “This is lunacy. You three are really picking the scab of the Second World War and this time — I have to warn you for what it is worth to greedy imbeciles like you — you are bringing the end of the world to the Earth if you open that door.”

Without waiting for a reply, the giant lifted the sack and walked toward the ramp of the ferry, shouldering his own satchel as he went.

“Sam, I hate to admit this…” Nina started, but Sam put his hand on the small of her back.

“I feel you. Let’s just see how far we get and what transpires. If there is any sign of this shit being real, we abort, all right?” he said under his breath.

“Aye. We abort,” she agreed.

After renting a double cab 4x4 in Kapellskär, the four of them traveled to Uppsala, taking on the hour-and-a-half journey on empty stomachs. It was too early to find any open stores along the road, so they opted for a quick breakfast in Uppsala once they got there. The rain pummeled their vehicle, but thankfully the road was very well-kept by the municipality.

“So, where do you live, Thomas?” Sam asked cordially, trying to kill time.

“Germany,” the reserved Goliath replied coldly.

“And what do you do for a living?” Sam persisted despite Nina’s furtive gestures for him to relent.

Thomas stared into Sam’s eyes with a piercing glare, “I kill explorers.”

The atmosphere in the car alternated between amusement and unpleasantness, because what Thomas answered was probably true. Sam could not think of anything to ask after that, that would benefit anyone, so he turned on the radio and made small talk with Nina about the climate. Then they moved on to old stories of when Sam was in Sweden to report on a suspected assassination of a high commander in Stockholm in 2005.

Thomas listened while he stared out the window. Suddenly he looked at Sam and frowned, “The assassination of Walter Dahl?”

“Oh, you heard of it?” Sam asked, pleasantly surprised.

“That was an assassination, but nobody could prove it,” Thomas said.

“One of yours?” Purdue asked nonchalantly.

“No, Mr. Purdue. I only kill to protect vital secrets. I do not kill good military leaders for their seat in power,” Thomas told Purdue. “That is what Lieutenant Beinta Dock does, and now she and her bitch Hilda Kreuz are running the Vril Society. Who do you think exiled my brothers and me?”

Nina was astonished. So you are a rogue? You and your… brothers?” she asked, turning around in the passenger seat to face Sam and Thomas.

“We are brothers because we served in the same battalion and were admitted for experimentation by the SS as we served at the same time. But we are not related. Stabsfeldwebel Rudi von Hammersmach, Hauptsturmführer Deiter Baum, and Unterfeldwebel Johann Kemper were my comrades in my company. We were stationed in Poland first, then Sweden. They sent me to Sweden because my father was Swedish and I spoke the language. And finally we were deployed on secret missions in India during Hitler’s visit to Tibet. Secrets were our business, and that was why we were selected for Shambhala,” Thomas rambled in his deep, even tone. But the other three occupants of the car were spellbound.

“What year were you born, Thomas…?” Nina asked.

“Sturmbannführer Thomas Heinrich Thorsen, born August 6, 1911, in Hamburg,” the giant answered slowly, his blinded eyes searching the floor as if it had been ages since he spoke his own name. He fell silent after that and the others left him alone until they reached Gamla Uppsala or Old Uppsala.

“We need to get to the church, Dave, the stone church,” Nina instructed, checking her notes. The three discrepancies on the list she found in the train pointed to the town of Gamla Uppsala, referring to the little church that was reputedly built over the site of an ancient Pagan temple. The temple honored the Norse gods — Odin, Thor, and Freyr — gods who were once men — according to the accounts of Adam of Bremen in his 11th-century publication.

Most texts from the Middle Ages about this subject attested to the local grove beside the present church being the site of human sacrifices — where an evergreen tree stood above a spring, and every nine years a live man would be thrown in — to determine if the wishes of the people would be granted by the gods. It was the place where nine males of every living creature would be hung as sacrifices and it was sacred to the heathens.

The third clue was kyrka, or “church.”

“What happens when we get to the little church?” Purdue asked.

“We have to find something inside that refers to the golden chain or the old temple or kings perhaps interred. I suppose the Valknut will show us where it is,” she muttered, checking her phone for information on the old temple that was apparently destroyed in the 12th century.

Thomas opened his mouth as if to utter something in turn, but he abandoned the effort. Nina had turned her mind away from hating him since she learned how special Thomas really was, apart from being very old and looking like a forty year old.

“Thomas? Do you know something I don’t?” she asked respectfully.

He gave her a long look, deciding if he wished to help. As they drove through the soaking landscape of Old Uppsala, traversing the rolling emerald hills and mounds where kings were said to be buried, he cleared his throat.

“In the Gothic era, especially, many churches were decorated with chains hanging from their gables, so it is not so unusual that you would have to look for a symbol. Most of them just hung around the actual building,” he enlightened them. “The temple you refer to was said to bear a chain of gold, but it was dismissed as exaggeration.”

“Hey, where do you think this chain comes from, pal?” Sam asked enthusiastically.

“How do you know that this is from the sagas of Adamus Bremenus?” Thomas asked.

“The inscriptions on the smaller section we have pointed us here. It could not be coincidence that it would take gold to open the Tomb of Odin. He was after all, a god,” Purdue speculated.

“I am a god. I don’t care for gold,” the colossus mentioned nonchalantly. “The problem with modern times is that people adorn everything in empty treasures, like gold and precious stones. They create images of old gods that depict virility and beauty, when they were fat alcoholics of ripe age. What made of them gods, my friends, was their unshakable loyalty to the protection of their people, their bravery in battle, and their unwavering wisdom.”

None of the others dared contest Thomas at this point. They could not deny that he nurtured a deeper vision, a higher understanding of things.

“Real treasure is brotherhood, bravery, water, fire, air, intellect, and poetry,” Thomas lectured them. There was no doubt that he knew, firsthand, the ways of Odin.