The Valhalla Prophecy (44 page)

She was interrupted by Kagan’s bark of “Quiet!” The Russian turned, expression intense. “I can hear something. I think it is a plane!”

The others froze, listening. The snow-cloaked stillness of the forest surrounded them … then was broken by a harsh mechanical buzz.

Distant—but getting closer.

“It’s not a plane,” Nina whispered, trying to pinpoint its origin. “It’s too low.”

“It’s coming from the river,” said Eddie grimly. The hearing loss he had sustained from years of gunfire and explosions had affected his sensitivity to higher-frequency sounds, but the droning noise was all too clear. He jumped out of the trench and ran back up the slope toward the waterfall. “Come on!”

Nina and Tova followed, Kagan loping along as quickly as he could. The group reached the top of the cliff and looked back at the frozen river.

Several vehicles were racing along it.

Nina didn’t need binoculars to know who was in them. “It’s Berkeley and Hoyt,” she gasped. “They’ve found us.”

Tova stared at the convoy in dismay. “It—it might not be them,” she said, with very little conviction. “No, it’s got to be,” Eddie growled. He counted seven vehicles: two snowmobiles in the lead, followed by a trio of large four-by-fours, and another pair that took him a moment to identify as icerunners—two-seaters resembling steroidal bobsleds, driven by noisy pusher propellers on their tails. “Nobody else’d come out here in force like that.”

“Damn you, Logan,” Nina snarled. Even if the off-roaders only had four occupants each, that still meant they were facing at least eighteen people.

They watched as the vehicles headed for the ravine. Rather than halt so their passengers could reach the rock bridge on foot, however, they continued on through the narrow valley, the roar of engines echoing from its sides.

“Perhaps they are not stopping,” said Tova, again sounding unconvinced by her own suggestion.

Nina shook her head. “They’ll have had access to satellite maps, just like us. They probably think it’ll be easier to reach Valhalla if they go farther upriver and double back.” She turned to Eddie. “What do we do?”

“They might not have seen the snowmobiles,” he said, “so there’s a chance they don’t know we’re here. If they don’t …” A moment of thought, then he jogged to a nearby tree and jumped to grab a large branch, pulling until it snapped from the trunk. “There’s some rocks overlooking the entrance, over there,” he said, pointing to a spot about a hundred yards west of the barrow. “Get behind ’em and stay low.”

“What are you going to do?” demanded Kagan.

“Cover our tracks. I’ll come up after you when I’m done.” Hefting the branch over one shoulder, he returned to the entrance as Nina and the others headed for the rocks.

Before long, the rumble of engines cut out. Nina checked her map; from the direction of the sound, the vehicles had probably stopped on flatter ground about half a mile to the north. Assuming that Berkeley had accurately pinpointed Valhalla’s location, that meant Hoyt’s forces were only around fifteen minutes away on foot.

She looked over her cover at the mound. Eddie was using the evergreen’s branch like a carpet sweeper, swinging it from side to side as he paced backward along the group’s tracks to brush away their footsteps. But it did not take much effort to spot that
something
had disturbed the snow, even if the boot prints themselves were no longer clear. If Hoyt’s team spent any time searching the area, the game would be up.

Eddie finally backed to the top of the depression. He swept over the tracks at the slope’s brow, then yomped to the others. “Did the best I could, but it’s not great,” he said. “Any sign of ’em?”

Kagan had produced a compact set of binoculars and was scanning the trees to the north. “No, but I do not think they can be far away now.”

“Yeah, I know. Unless they all get eaten by a troll.” Tova managed a small smile at Eddie’s joke.

Silence descended once more. Minutes passed. Tension rose among the little group. The arrival of the intruders
was inevitable—it was just a question of when, and from where …

“I see them,” Kagan hissed, locking his binoculars on a particular spot. “About a hundred and fifty meters.”

Nina picked out new colors among the white and brown and green. Men in bulky winter gear, most with hoods up against the cold, were tramping through the forest.

Coming toward them. Berkeley’s deductions had been accurate.

Kagan kept watching. “I count … nineteen, maybe twenty.”

“Let me look,” said Eddie. Kagan gave him the binoculars. “I see Hoyt—and Berkeley. He’s got a GPS or something, he’s checking it … he just pointed at the mound.” He passed them back to the Russian and opened his coat to draw the Wildey. “Just want it ready,” he told the concerned women. “I’m not going to start shooting. Yet.”

Voices reached them as Hoyt’s team drew closer. Berkeley led the way, wearing a bright yellow padded jacket that stood out from his more muted companions. Behind him was Hoyt, hood down and a cigarette between his lips. A P90 submachine gun was slung over his shoulder. Most of the other men were similarly armed.

“Pity you didn’t bring that sniper rifle,” Eddie told Kagan. He watched as the rest of the group followed Berkeley through the snow. The archaeologist divided his attention between the GPS and his surroundings—then lowered the device and broke into a clumsy jog, pointing excitedly at the ash trees.

“This is it!” he called. “Look at the trees!” He reached the mound and glanced around, then spotted the cutting at the foot of the tilted tree. “Over here!”

Eddie drew in an anxious breath, his hand tightening around the gun. “If they see our footprints, we’re in deep shit. We’ll have to run for the waterfall and try to get back to the snowmobiles.”

Nina felt a chill that no amount of warm clothing
could prevent as Berkeley reached the trench and hopped down into it. Hoyt did the same, waiting for an unarmed man, face hidden by his hood, to join him before heading for the darkened opening.

They reached the brushed snow above the edge of the trench …

And continued past it. The prospect of discovering what lay in the darkness was too enticing to resist. A couple of the other mercenaries followed them, the remainder spreading out around the foot of the mound. Cigarettes were lit, food and drink produced from pockets and packs.

“They don’t know we’re here,” said Nina with relief. “They aren’t expecting trouble.”

“Maybe not, but they’re still ready for it,” Eddie replied. He borrowed the binoculars again. Flickers of light came from the darkness as Berkeley shone a torch over the lead barrier. “Okay, they’re having a look at the doors … Berkeley’s checking out that slot.”

“Let me see,” Nina demanded, plucking the binoculars from his hands. He made a
tchah!
sound, but she ignored it, intent on discovering what was going on below. Berkeley continued his examination of the slot, then, after exchanging words with Hoyt and the other man, signaled to one of the armed mercenaries in the trench behind them. “Now what’s he doing … Oh, crap.”

“What is it?” asked Tova.

“He’s got the sun compasses!” The mercenary took a box from his backpack, the two dark stone disks inside. Berkeley extracted them and, with great care, brought them together back-to-back. He flinched as they suddenly clapped against each other with a
clink
that was audible even from her hiding place. “They
are
magnetic—he’s just fitted them together. And I was right, they’re exactly the same size as the slot. Dammit, they really are a key!”

She watched helplessly as Hoyt shone the light on the opening in the door and Berkeley, looking extremely pleased with himself, gently eased the combined compasses
into it as if inserting a coin into a slot machine. “He’s putting it in, and …”

“And?” prompted Eddie after a few seconds.

“And nothing!” Nina exclaimed. Berkeley’s expression slipped to annoyance, then confusion. He used his fingertips to edge the disk back out, then tried again with more force. “It’s not doing anything.”

Another attempt had the same lack of result. Frustrated, Berkeley removed the compasses, holding them as he began an animated discussion with Hoyt and his companion. It went on for a good minute, the archaeologist repeatedly gesturing at the doors and becoming visibly more dismayed each time.

“He’s really not happy,” Nina reported. “I think Hoyt wants to bust the doors open.”

“But—but that will destroy the site,” Tova protested.

“I don’t think he cares,” said Eddie.

The group looked on from their hiding place as Berkeley reluctantly caved in to Hoyt and his companion, and called out to the mercenaries. A man whom Nina recognized as one of the team from the Norwegian lake flicked away a cigarette and picked up a large case he had brought, taking it into the trench. “Son of a …,” she spluttered when she saw what was inside.

“What is it?” Kagan asked.

“It’s a chain saw! They’re going to open the doors with a frickin’
chain saw
!”

Eddie chuckled humorlessly. “Now, that’s my kind of archaeology.” Both women glared at him. “Joking, obviously. Well, mostly.”

Nina scowled, then looked back through the binoculars. Berkeley aimed his light at the doors, pointing to a particular spot. The man with the chain saw nodded and pulled the cord to start it. The machine’s snarl shattered the quiet, a few birds that had been roosting nearby taking panicked flight.

The others in the trench retreated as the man stepped up to the doors and raised the saw. “God
damn
it, Logan,” Nina said, wincing at the first screech of metal slashing through metal. “You don’t—”

A scream made everyone, mercenaries and their hidden observers alike, jump. The chain saw revved violently as its user staggered back into the light—and sliced into his leg, blood spouting against the side of the trench. “What the fuck just happened?” Eddie said, startled.

Through the field glasses, Nina had a clear view of the shocking sight. The horrific gash in his thigh was not the only injury the mercenary had received. Blood was also running down the front of his coat—from a foot-long wooden shaft buried in his abdomen. He screamed again, falling on his back. “Jesus!” she said as Hoyt rushed up and threw the chain saw clear. “Eddie, you were right—it
was
booby-trapped. Looks like it shot an arrow out of one of those holes.”

More of his comrades ran to help the screaming man. “Everyone get away from the doors!” Berkeley shouted, hurriedly scrambling clear.

The wounded mercenary was hauled out of the trench, leaving a trail of blood through the snow. “Who’s got the fuckin’ medical kit?” Hoyt demanded. One of his men retrieved something from a pack. “No, that won’t be enough! He’s gonna need morphine! Someone go back to the trucks and get the proper fuckin’ thing!” Two of the mercs raced away back along the group’s tracks. “Put a tent up—we need to get that thing out of him!”

A pop-up tent was quickly unfolded, several men gingerly carrying their still-wailing fellow inside. The rest of the team looked on, more with curiosity than with concern. Hoyt stormed over to Berkeley and began haranguing him. The archaeologist’s protest of “I
told
you not to do it!” carried clearly across the hollow.

Hoyt’s companion joined the argument, seeming to side with the former soldier. Berkeley held up the sun compasses. “I tried them, what more can I say?” he said angrily. “The runestones clearly said they had to be put together to open the door. Well, I did, and they didn’t work. The site is more than a thousand years old—maybe the lock’s broken, I don’t know!” He listened
with growing displeasure as the third man lectured him, jabbing with his forefinger. “Okay, okay, if that’s what you think is necessary! But I did everything I could.” Cradling the compasses in one arm, he stalked off.

“I do believe he’s going to sulk,” said Nina, almost amused.

Eddie watched Berkeley move away from the rest of the group. “You know …”

“What?”

“Everyone else is watching the wounded guy—but look, some of them are just standing there having a smoke. If they were proper soldiers, they’d be worried about their mate, but it’s like this lot barely know each other.”

“We did kill many of Hoyt’s men in Norway,” Kagan pointed out. “He would have had to recruit more, fast.”

Nina could tell her husband had something in mind—and also that it would involve a large degree of risk. “What are you thinking, Eddie?”

“I’m thinking,” he replied, his square face breaking into a crooked smile, “that most of these guys don’t know each other too well … and that they’re all dressed pretty similar, and most of ’em have their hoods up.” He tugged at the thick fleece surround of his own hood. “Like this.”

She stared at him. “You’re not serious.”

“Why not? I should be able to get down there without being seen so long as they’re all watching Harold Spearguts in the tent. My coat’s pretty much the same as anyone else’s, so if nobody gets a good look at my face I can walk right up to Berkeley and”—he held up the hulking Wildey—“
persuade
him to give me the sun compasses.” Tova was horrified. “But if they realize you are not one of them, they will kill you!”

“And if we don’t do something, they’ll just blow the bloody doors off and stroll in to take whatever’s inside.”

“We cannot let them do that,” said Kagan firmly. “It will lead them to the other source of eitr.”

“It won’t help us get into Valhalla, though,” Nina objected.
“The compasses didn’t open the lock even when he put them together …” She trailed off as a new possibility occurred to her. “He put them together
wrong
. That’s why they didn’t do anything. The lock isn’t broken—the key just didn’t touch it!”

“What do you mean?” asked Tova.

“I mean, the compasses are magnetic—but there are two ways you can put magnets together. They can attract each other … or
repel
. Berkeley combined them so they’d attract each other, which is the obvious thing to do. But the mechanism inside the lock is on each side of the slot. The only way the two pieces of the key would touch both parts at the same time is if they’re repelling each other!”