The Valhalla Prophecy_A Novel

by Andy McDermott

  The grenade hit a cluster of crystals – and detonated.

  Eddie was sent sprawling by the blast, broken fragments hitting his back. Though Hoyt was further away, he was facing the explosion, and he screwed up his face in pain as shrapnel stabbed at his eyes. He lurched backwards, this time falling. The rifle landed stock first and was jolted from his hand.

  Above, Nina heard the explosion and fought through her fatigue to look down into the cavern. A swelling cloud of smoke marked where the grenade had hit – and worryingly close to it she saw her husband lying face down. Hoyt was a few yards away, one hand to his face – then he shook off the pain to search for his gun. ‘Eddie, look out!’

  Eddie heard his wife’s voice through the ringing in his ears. He raised his head and saw Hoyt crawling for the fallen SIG. ‘No you fucking don’t,’ he snarled, forcing himself up with a surge of pure hate-driven energy.

  Face cut and bloodied, Hoyt reached the gun – just as Eddie dived at him. Both men rolled across the unstable ground, rivulets of eitr stabbing towards them as the crystals shifted and sank. ‘Twat!’ the Yorkshireman spat as he drove a punch into Hoyt’s stomach. The American let out a strangled gasp. Eddie got on top of him, clamping one hand around his throat as he drew back his arm to deliver another brutal blow at Hoyt’s face—

  Hoyt’s groping hand found a coconut-sized hunk of debris – which he smacked against the side of Eddie’s head. ‘Yeah, you son of a bitch!’ he rasped as his opponent cried out. Another strike, and Eddie fell sideways, releasing his hold. ‘Come on, you bastard!’ He jumped up, kicking the Englishman in the ribs and sending him tumbling towards the edge of the eitr pool.

  Nina helplessly watched the brawl – then spotted something below her. Dull highlights along dark metal were picked out by one of the glowing globes.

  Her AK-12. It had landed atop a crooked spar that crossed about nine feet below her position. ‘Logan!’ she called. Berkeley peered over the ledge. ‘I’m going for the gun. You try to reach Thor’s Hammer – we’ve got to get it to the pool, no matter what!’

  ‘But it’s all the way down there!’ he objected, pointing at the canister. It was still wedged between two intercrossing arms of black crystal.

  ‘You’ve got more chance of getting to it – the gap’s too wide for me to jump over. But you can reach it by going down that.’ She indicated one of the snake-like columns, which in its growth had spiralled around part of the shaft’s circumference before a slow-motion collision with another rising crystal pillar had forced it back upwards.

  ‘It’s too steep! I’m not a monkey.’

  ‘If you don’t, then in about ten minutes you’ll be a radioactive cinder!’

  Berkeley rapidly reconsidered. ‘Okay, I’ll try.’ He gingerly lowered himself over the side of the outcrop.

  ‘Good!’ She crawled along the slanting span until she was above the gun, then gripped the crystal and slid over the edge – becoming acutely aware that her landing zone was barely a foot wide, and directly above the eitr . . .

  No time to hesitate. The missile was still on its way. She looked down again, lining up with her worryingly narrow target, then dropped.

  Hanging down, the actual fall was only a few feet, but that was still enough to jar her as she landed, making her tip backwards over the void. She gasped, flailing—

  The movement counterbalanced her, just for a moment. She seized it, bending at the knees to drop to all fours, gasping for breath.

  The Kalashnikov was a few feet away. She scrambled to it.

  ‘Nina!’ Kagan shouted, seeing what she was doing. ‘Lock is getting away! I need cover!’

  Nina retrieved the rifle. Her first thought was to help her husband, but as she looked down, she realised that the Russian’s demand had to take priority. Lock and the man carrying the eitr sample were scaling the angled crystal pillars, zigzagging upwards. She didn’t have a clear line of fire on them, the two men flitting in and out of her view between other black columns – but she could see the mercenaries still in the cavern, both of whom had their weapons locked on Kagan’s position.

  She took aim at one of the men below, and fired.

  The bullet missed by mere inches, cracking off a crystal. But it achieved its purpose. Both men swung their guns around to find the new threat. Nina jerked back as shots ripped into the span beneath her—

  Kagan popped out from his own cover and fired. One man went down in a spray of blood as several rounds hit him in the head and chest. The other immediately realised where the greater danger lay and spun back to retarget the Russian.

  He wasn’t fast enough. Another burst from the AK-12 hit home. He screamed, losing his footing and plunging into the eitr. Sizzling steam gushed up around him as he sank into the turgid depths.

  ‘Get Thor’s Hammer down to the lake!’ Kagan called to Berkeley, who was unsteadily picking his way down the wall. ‘I’ll get Lock!’ He made a running jump to another spar to intercept the American and his follower.

  Nina turned her attention back to Eddie, whose battle with Hoyt had taken them out of sight behind more crystal columns. ‘God damn it!’ she hissed. She slung the rifle, then searched for a line of sight.

  Below, Eddie was still on the defensive as Hoyt forced him ever closer to the edge of the eitr. The mercenary’s height advantage over the former SAS soldier also gave him greater reach, and he was making full use of it, able to strike repeatedly while preventing Eddie from retaliating. ‘Looks like you screwed it all up again, Chase!’ said the American, feigning an attack with his right hand only to dart in with a painful punch from his left. ‘I guess failing’s what you’re best at, huh?’ Another blow, the Englishman barely deflecting it.

  ‘You don’t fucking know me,’ Eddie growled.

  ‘And nor does your wife up there! You didn’t tell her you murdered the girl you were supposed to rescue? I’d call that a major-league fuck-up!’

  Another punch rushed at Eddie’s head—

  This time, he wasn’t quite fast enough to block it, taking a sense-jangling blow that left him staggering. One foot came down heavily on a crystal shard – which sank, forcing up a boil of dark slime. Only the Yorkshireman’s reflexes kept his boot from slipping into the eitr, but he still stumbled backwards against one of the large vertical pillars.

  Hoyt saw his chance and aimed a vicious kick at his adversary’s groin. Eddie snapped down his right arm to shield himself from a blow that would have ended the fight on the spot – but still screamed at a searing bolt of pain as the American’s steel-toed boot fractured one of the bones in his hand.

  The mercenary struck again, this time slamming a knee up into his stomach. Choking and sickened, Eddie slumped against the base of the column.

  Hoyt drew back to deliver a kick to the winded man’s face – then spotted something at his feet and picked it up instead. It was a shard of black crystal, over a foot long, with a razor-edged tip as sharp as a spearpoint. He grinned as he raised it, ready to plunge it into Eddie’s throat. ‘Been waiting eight years for this—’

  Blood and shredded flesh burst from his shoulder.

  Hoyt reeled, staring in shocked agony at the bullet’s exit wound – as Eddie fought through the pain of his own injuries and grabbed the black dagger, twisting it to point vertically. ‘Me too.’

  He sprang from the floor, all his strength driving the shard upwards into Hoyt’s jaw.

  The tip stabbed through the tissue under the mercenary’s chin, tearing through his tongue and the soft palate above before striking and snapping bone. A wet crackle came from inside the American’s skull.

  Hoyt stared in bug-eyed horror at Eddie, too shocked to move – and unable to scream with his airways choked by gushing blood. The Englishman twisted the spike, corkscrewing it deeper into his enemy’s brain. ‘I didn’t fail,’ he said in a growling whisper. ‘I won. I beat you eight years ago, you just didn’t know it . . .’ He yanked out the shard, more blood sluicing from the gaping hole under th
e mercenary’s jaw. ‘And I won again now.’

  Hoyt clawed desperately at his torn throat, then slumped to his knees, a strangled rattling sound escaping his gaping mouth. The Yorkshireman stared coldly at him for a moment – before launching into sudden movement. ‘Now fuck off!’ he roared, kicking Hoyt hard in the side of his head and bowling him into the lake.

  The mercenary was still alive as the steaming black ooze swallowed him. His skin sizzled on contact with the lethal poison, a gurgling howl finally escaping from Hoyt’s mouth as the eitr bubbled up over his neck, his face . . . and then he was gone, nothing but sludgy ripples left to mark his passing.

  Eddie dropped the gore-soaked dagger and wearily turned to find his saviour. It took him a moment to spot Nina in the shaft high above, having found a clear firing angle between the crystalline pillars. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Just about,’ he called back. ‘But it would’ve been a lot easier if you’d aimed at his head.’

  She raised the AK-12 with a helpless shrug. ‘I did!’

  He managed a pained smile, then heard another shout from above. ‘Nina!’ cried Berkeley. He had reached Thor’s Hammer. ‘I’ve got it, I’ve got the—’

  Another burst of gunfire echoed through the chamber. Not from Nina’s AK-12, but a SIG.

  ‘Logan!’ she cried, seeing her former colleague flinch, then collapse. Lines of dark red trickled down Berkeley’s coat from the three scorched bullet holes across his chest.

  35

  Orbach lowered his rifle. ‘Good shot,’ Lock told him. ‘Now keep moving.’ He pointed to a nearby crystal span that angled upwards. ‘That way.’

  Nina was still above the pair. She brought her Kalashnikov around, but from her current position couldn’t see them through the serpentine columns. ‘Oh my God, Logan!’ She looked back at the other archaeologist. ‘Logan, can you hear me?’

  He was still for a moment, then slowly raised his head. ‘Nina, I . . .’ he gasped, blood oozing from the side of his mouth. ‘I’m sorry, I . . . I messed up. But at least . . . I can do this.’

  With his dying breath, he stretched out a trembling arm – and pushed the steel canister over the edge.

  The heavy container plunged down the shaft—

  It hit a damaged crystal lancing across the cavern about ten feet above Eddie. Glassy splinters showered over him, but the metal vessel didn’t fall any further, wedged into the broken surface.

  ‘Eddie!’ Nina shouted from high above. ‘It’s Thor’s Hammer – get it to the eitr!’

  He searched for a way to reach it. A pillar rose at an angle close to the canister. Weaving around the pools of eitr bubbling up through the rubble, he headed towards it.

  Lock had also seen Thor’s Hammer fall. ‘Dammit!’ he snarled, pausing midway through his climb to another ascending spar. ‘Orbach, don’t let him reach that cylinder! Take him out!’

  Orbach stopped and looked down the shaft, finding that Eddie was partially obscured behind a damaged spire. He put down the eitr, propping the sealed container against a stubby spike jutting from the span beneath his feet and backing up to find a clear line of fire.

  He only had to move a couple of metres to get an unobstructed view. The SIG locked on to its target . . .

  The crunch and scrabble of running footsteps came from one side, above him.

  Orbach looked up – as Kagan leapt from a higher crossing to slam down beside the eitr canister, AK-12 in one hand.

  The mercenary whirled—

  Kagan was quicker.

  The Kalashnikov’s thudding bark echoed through the shaft, a burst of bullets stitching bloody rents across Orbach’s torso. The spasming American fell over the edge back into the cavern below. The point of a stalagmite was waiting for him, the man’s agonised scream cut short as he was impaled on the ragged spike.

  The Russian turned, drawing back one foot to kick the eitr into the pit below—

  A single gunshot came from behind him.

  Kagan let out a startled gasp, shock blotting out the pain of the bullet that had just ripped into his back. The AK fell from his hands and dropped down the shaft. He tried to complete his movement, to send the eitr over the edge . . . but his body would not cooperate. His knees buckled, and he slumped across the top of the spar, legs hanging over one side. The canister was just out of reach, and the mere act of reaching for it shifted his balance, the weight of his lower body slowly dragging him over the edge.

  Lock jumped back down and advanced on him, faint wisps of smoke still streaming from the barrel of his handgun. ‘You made the same mistake Chase did in ’Nam, my friend,’ he said smugly. ‘The guy giving the orders – you thought he never gets his hands dirty, huh? Afraid not.’ He reached the fallen Russian. ‘And you want to know something else, Kagan? Back in Vietnam, you went to all that trouble to find out what you could about the eitr from that girl – but there was nothing to learn!’

  Kagan forced out words, tasting blood. ‘What . . . do you mean?’

  ‘The BSA had already secretly taken samples from her before she even left Germany, but the results were worthless. We didn’t find out anything about the nature of the eitr from her . . . but we used Slavin to make you think that you could. She was just a decoy, a way for us to learn about your lines of research.’ Lock leaned closer, gloating. ‘You exposed Unit 201 for nothing! I just wanted you to know before you died – payback for all the trouble you caused me in Washington, you bastard.’

  And with that, he raised his boot to Kagan’s head, about to shove him over the edge—

  ‘No!’ Nina cried. She had moved across the shaft to get line of sight on Lock below, emerging from cover by one of the light globes. The surprised American raised his gun, but Nina had already lined up her AK-12 . . .

  She fired – just as Lock jinked sideways. The single bullet shredded his left sleeve, a small puff of blood amongst the torn material. Lock barked in pain, but the wound was only superficial.

  And the charging handle of Nina’s gun had locked back with a sharp clack. She had used most of the AK’s ammunition fighting the wolves, and now the rifle was empty.

  Lock recovered from the shock of his injury. He took aim at her, a tight smile of triumph twisting his face—

  Nina kicked the light globe like an oversized football, sending it sailing across the gap at Lock.

  He fired. The bullet punctured the inflated latex sphere, but cracked against the cluster of LEDs and batteries at its heart rather than continuing through. Before he could react, the deflating globe hit him and knocked him back.

  He gasped in sudden fear as he lost his footing – and fell.

  The drop was only eight feet, on to a narrower span below. He clawed desperately for grip to save himself from another, deadly plunge, but was forced to let go of his gun. The weapon spun down the shaft and vanished into the glutinous void.

  Kagan’s slide continued inexorably, the Russian’s grip faltering. ‘Grigory!’ Nina called, scurrying to a position where she could jump to reach him. ‘Hang on, I’m coming!’

  ‘No . . .’ Kagan growled. His waist was now over the side, only his hold on the edge of the crystal keeping him from falling. ‘I am . . . gone. But so is . . . the eitr!’

  ‘Don’t!’ shouted Nina, but too late.

  Kagan dug the nails of his left hand into the scabrous surface and lashed with his right at the container of eitr. His fingers just caught it, jarring it loose from where it had been wedged – but the movement cost him his life. He slipped and plummeted without a sound, hitting the eitr lake with a flat splash and vanishing for ever beneath the oily liquid.

  The canister wobbled . . . then tipped over the edge—

  Its strap caught on the crystal spike.

  Nina and Lock were both frozen for a moment, staring at the steel cylinder as it swung above the cavern – then they burst into motion, Lock dragging himself up to reach it from below as Nina dropped the empty AK-12 and leapt across to the span fro
m which Kagan had fallen.

  Eddie reached the canister containing Thor’s Hammer. He had heard the gunshots from above and was filled with fear for his wife, but he could do nothing to help her. Instead, he picked up the heavy steel container and jumped back down to the unstable island of rubble, debris crunching and shifting beneath his feet.

  There was a handgrip set into a recess in the lid. Holding the cylinder as steady as he could, he clenched his fist around it and twisted. A moment of worry as it refused to move, then he felt the seal give as he applied more force. Still unscrewing the lid, he made his way to the broken shoreline.

  At first he thought that the level of the eitr had risen, but then he realised that the smashed crystal remnants on which he was standing were sinking into the ooze. Black boils swelled all around him, threatening to burst. ‘Let’s fucking get this over with,’ he muttered, coughing as the acrid vapour rising from the lake stung his nose and throat.

  Another turn – and the lid came free.

  He tossed it aside, seeing what was inside the canister for the first time. Article 3472 – Thor’s Hammer – was, like the substance it was intended to counter, a thick black slime, a new and even more foul odour coming from it. Eddie recoiled; while the fumes from the eitr might not be lethal, he had no idea if the same was true of its counter-agent.

  The rubble shifted beneath him, the liquid lapping closer to his boots. He took a step back, supporting the container with both hands. No time for speeches, or even smart-arse comments: he knew what he had to do.

  With a grunt, he lobbed Thor’s Hammer into the eitr.

  The container flipped over as it arced down towards the heart of the lake. The black fluid sluiced out. The effect was immediate as it splashed into the eitr, a sizzling reaction sending up bursts of steaming vapour. A moment later, the canister hit the surface with a wet smack and sank out of sight . . .

  The eitr immediately began to change.

  A swirling, churning whirlpool of froth erupted where the cylinder had landed, and around it the glistening black oil turned a dull, sickly grey, the metamorphosis sweeping outwards.