His sword crunched into the snow at my feet and I could feel the blood pouring from the ragged wound along my flank. I didn't know how deep it was, but I could tell that I was losing a lot of blood.
“Are you ok?” I asked, turning to Spec-4.
“I..uh…yeah,” she managed to say, shaking her head.
I could see that her eyes were focused on where the body of Marko lay. The look of shock and horror on her face was all I needed to see. She was alive and I could check her wounds later. Right now, I had more of the Frostbiters to deal with.
Spinning around, I saw Snake smash in the skull of the nearest one with his massive hammer. It toppled over backwards and didn't rise again. Bridgett danced around the area, letting fly with the occasional arrow. Although they didn't do much damage to the dead, they were enough of a distraction to give Bergelmir the advantage.
Stepping in close, Bergelmir slammed his massive blade into the side of the head of the Frostbiter that was reaching for Bridgett. He struck it with enough force that the entire skull crunched and then shattered with explosive force. He was so intent on killing it that he wasn't watching the one that was coming up behind him.
Just as it was reaching for the back of his neck, the booming report of Bowman's .4570 rang out and shook the air with its ferocity. The head of the one reaching for Bergelmir simply vanished in a blast of ice, bone and brains. A quick chick-chuck and the Henry spoke again, striking the remaining Frostbiter in the neck. Although it staggered the beast, it didn't fall.
That was all the distraction that Snake needed. Swinging Brjótanir in a wide arc, he brought the hammer crashing down on the back of the beast's head with a blow that sounded like thunder. With his beard flying in the wind and the might of the blow, he looked like Thor incarnate. For just a moment, I truly thought he was.
As the last of the Frostbiters fell into the snow, I wearily reached back for Beowulf. Bringing it tightly against my shoulder, I turned to head for the spot where I had shot John Banner. I was losing a lot of blood and beginning to grow faint, but I was going to find out why he betrayed us. I was going to look into his eyes when he told me. Then I was going to kill him.
Banner looked up with a mixture of shame and defiance in his eyes as I approached. He was cradling his mangled hand against his torso and holding his shattered knee with his good hand. His hood and balaclava had been removed. I could see that he had wound his balaclava around his injured hand. I was glad that his face was uncovered. I wanted to look into his eyes when he answered for this.
“Why, John?” I asked, the Beowulf not quite pointed at his stomach.
“My spirit totem,” he said, as if that explained it all.
“What about it?” I asked, not sure what the Hel he meant.
“You know my spirit animal,” he said, looking at me with that oddly serene look he gets sometimes.
“It's a coyote,” I replied. “You told me that a long time ago. What about it?”
“Coyote is the trickster,” he said, chuckling.
Then it hit me. Loki is known as the trickster. All this time that I had known him, he had been a follower of Coyote. White Bear had said that our Gods were the same, only with different names. It suddenly made perfect sense. The Trickster by any other name was Loki. Same God, different perception by different peoples.
At first, I felt betrayed. I knew that John had been to my home many times. He'd known my kids since they were babies. In many ways, he was one of my oldest friends. Now his betrayal almost made sense. Loki had fought on the side of the Gods many times in the old tales, but he always betrays them. In the end, John was no different.
“Now you understand,” he said.
I noted it wasn't a question.
“Yes,” I replied.
“So you see that I had no choice,” he said, softly.
“I do,” I answered, “but neither do I. Goodbye John.”
Before he could say anything else, Beowulf roared once more and John was gone. I fell to my knees in the snow, beside him. I wasn't sure which pain was hurting me more. The pain in my side or the pain in my heart.
Chapter Seventeen
Spec-4's Riddle
“Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know
that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed.”
- G.K. Chesterton
After Bridgett and Spec-4 had been taken care of, Bergelmir and Snake began to dig through the rubble of the barn to recover any weapons that we might have use for. They both chose to ignore the wounds that they had, stating that they were minor enough to not be a problem. Snake was walking with a limp, but not bleeding as far as I could see and Bergelmir's wounds had ceased bleeding on their own.
Once I was convinced that they were all going to be ok, then and only then would I allow them to check the wound in my side. Spec-4 helped me remove my armor and lift up my thermal underclothing. Just as I had suspected, the wound was fairly deep and jagged. The blood had slowed to a trickle, but it was still raw and open. That meant that I had lost more blood than I had thought or my body was trying to heal.
“This is going to need stitches,” said Spec-4, reaching for her medical kit.
“I figured it would,” I replied, wincing.
After gathering the equipment she would need to close the wound, she cleaned it out thoroughly with antiseptic wash and peroxide. It burned, but it had to be done. I had to look away and think about other things when she began stitching me up. Not that the pain was too much or anything like that. It was weird, but despite everything that I'd been through over the last few months, I still couldn't stand the sight of needles on my own flesh.
I've put stitches in other people and I've been severely wounded on many occasions, but the sight of a needle bothered me. I guess it was just one of those things that get to people. I couldn't exactly blame people for the things that freaked them out. One of my good friends, an officer I knew for years, was deathly afraid of clowns. Don't know why, but they completely freaked him out.
By the time she was done patching me up, Bergelmir and Snake had recovered all the weapons that they could find and piled them next to where the horses had been tied. Then they began the process of piling up as much of the old wooden barn as they could into on massive pile. I knew what it was for. They were building a pyre for Marko.
After putting my armor back in place, I joined them beside the pile of wood. They had tossed the bodies of the fallen Hrimthurssar into the wood. They wouldn't be placed on top in the position of honor, but they would burn along with Marko. It served two purposes. One, to speed them to whatever afterlife awaited them. The other was to help prevent the others from finding them. Reluctantly, I agreed to place Banner's body in the pile as well.
He certainly wasn't getting an honored position, but I understood the necessity of concealing his corpse. We also dragged the bodies of the Frostbiters and left them at the edge of the barn. Some of them were already buried beneath it when it collapsed. The others would be placed around the edges. Once the ice melted, it might confuse the other Hrimthurssar. They might not realize that they were the fallen undead.
Bowman and Winston saddled the horses and placed all of the extra weapons and equipment on Marko's horse. I knew that they really were just staying away to let us prepare the sendoff for one of the fallen Einherjar. We had lost two of our number in less than a week. Now there was only myself, Bergelmir, Snake and Bridgett remaining. The worst part of the mission was still yet to come. I couldn't help but wonder, who would be next to fall?
We all said a few quiet words for Marko, then lit the pyre. I would have loved for it to have been a more fitting sendoff, but this was the best we could do under the circumstances. The Gods would know our hearts and how we felt. Marko fell in battle and would be worthy of Valhalla. I had no doubt that the Valkyrie would come for him.
As the flames began to spread through the pile of old, dry wood, we headed to the ho
rses and climbed into the saddle. The pain in my side was intense as I slowly slung my leg over Ebon's side and slid into my saddle. Although severe, it didn't feel like I had pulled out any stitches.
Glancing around, I could see that the storm clouds were still coming in. The snow had started, but it was not coming down heavily. That undoubtedly would come later. For now, it was thick, heavy snowflakes that did little to obscure our vision. We could ride through it. Besides, the battle had taken our shelter away and we would need to find another if we planned on spending the night out here. Frankly, I wanted to push on and try to make Strafford before nightfall.
“Let's ride,” I said, gently kicking Ebon in the flanks with my heels. “If we're lucky, we can make Strafford before it gets too dark to ride.”
With that, we headed off to the east. We were following a winding path that had to be an old highway that was buried beneath the snow. We could see the occasional lump in the snow that could only be an abandoned vehicle. What we didn't see was any structure that would be big enough for us to get the horses inside for the night. I would have to keep my eye open and remain vigilant.
As we were about to turn a corner, I glanced back and got my final glimpse of Marko's pyre. The flames were still dancing high into the air and the thick oily smoke curled into the grey sky before vanishing on the wind. I could also see the distant shape of something flying in the waves of heat and smoke. I couldn't make out what it was, but it didn't appear to be ashes or patches of smoke.
I noticed that Spec-4 had fallen behind. She was riding near the back of the group and was staring over her shoulder. She continued to look back until we had rounded the bend in the road. Even from a distance, I could see the sadness in her eyes. Despite the shemagh that was wound around her face, the pale blue of her eyes shone like a beacon from the darkness of her hood.
She didn't seem to notice that I was watching her. Instead, she seemed lost in her own thoughts. When she turned her head towards the sky, I couldn't help but wonder what she was searching for. The overcast sky was grey with very little light filtering through. She moved her head, as if tracking the movement of something I couldn't see. Something that held her attention, until her horse nearly stumbled.
That seemed to shake her out of her thoughts and she turned back to the group. Other than myself, only Bergelmir seemed to have noticed what she was doing. He didn't comment, but instead only looked at her quizzically.
“Everything OK?” I asked her.
“Uh…yeah,” she said, hesitantly. “Why?”
“No reason,” I said. “I was just wondering why you were watching our trail so intently.”
“I feel like Marko's death is partly my fault,” she admitted, quietly. “If I hadn't been knocked out of the fight, he might still be here.”
“Don't blame yourself,” I said, reaching over and putting my hand on her shoulder. “It's not like you ran from the fight. You were hurt, but you fought as hard as you could. I know he knew that, too.”
“Still,” she said, glancing back. “We're really going to miss him. Not only because everyone liked him, but now we're one man down. How are we going to pull this off?”
“The same way we were before,” I said, trying to sound positive. “Courage, faith and steel.”
We rode on through the snow, not really saying much more. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, undoubtedly of Marko and of the fight ahead of us. Bridgett hardly left Bergelmir's side during the ride. She usually rode with Marko and seemed to be taking his loss worse than the rest of us. I could understand her feelings. I noticed long ago that Marko had sort of adopted her like she was his kid sister. He watched out for her and she almost always partnered with him when we went on patrols.
I decided that it would be best to just keep riding. We navigated largely by compass, since any shot at using GPS was long gone. With all of the debris now filling the sky, it was unlikely that any of the satellites had survived. That was both good and bad for us. It did mean that we weren't going to have to worry about any of them crashing to earth. Unfortunately, it also meant that there would be no global communications relays to attempt to contact other groups of survivors when this was all over. Communications would be set back by at least fifty years. Assuming that there was anyone out there left to communicate with.
It was well after sundown when we emerged from a clearing and saw the outskirts of Strafford. I noticed that the snow wasn't as deep the closer we got to Springfield. It kind of felt like it wasn't quite as cold, either. Maybe I was imagining it, but only the wind seemed as chilly as ever. When it wasn't blowing, it wasn't all that unpleasant. Maybe I was actually getting used to the cold. I didn’t really like the thought of that.
Just outside of Strafford, we found a large building with several recreational vehicles still parked outside. It was gated with heavy wrought iron fencing and the gates were still shut. That was good news for us, since it meant that it was unlikely that many of the dead had found their way inside. We would still have to check the perimeter, but if all of the fencing was intact then we might have a safe place to hold up for the night.
Jumping down off of Ebon's back, I only felt a twinge of pain from my side. It wasn't even close to fully healed, but it was good enough. I could function. Bergelmir stepped down from his horse and joined me at the gate. We examined the lock and were considering how to break it, when Snake joined us at the gate. With a bemused look in his eyes, he lowered Brjótanir and lined it up against the lock. With one solid hit, he shattered the padlock and the chains dropped off into the snow.
“Unlocked,” he said sarcastically and began opening the gate.
With a shrug, we led the horses inside the gate and secured it. Placing the chain back around the bars, I looked for something I could use to secure it in place. Since I was fresh out of locks, I dug into my saddle bags and took out a pair of handcuffs. Threading them through the chain, I secured the gate and turned back to the others.
“Gate's secure,” I muttered, heading for Ebon.
“We shall check the perimeter,” rumbled Bergelmir, indicating himself and Snake.
“Alright,” I replied. “I'll get in the building and clear it.”
While they headed off to walk the fence and look for breaches, the rest of us headed for the large bay doors at the side of the building. There was also a single door with a placard that read “Service Entrance.” Retrieving my spear from where it was attached to the side of my saddle, I headed for the door.
Quickly, I checked to see if it was locked. It was, so I shoved the tip of the spear into the space between the door and the door frame, right above the lock. After a moment of wiggling the handle, trying to penetrate deeper into the frame, I leaned against the shaft of the spear until I heard the door begin to creak.
At first, the only thing that happened was the ice that had frozen to the door crackled and fell off. Then the door continued to creak and protest as I applied more weight to the shaft. I was worried that I might break off the tip of the blade, but I kept up the pressure. After a few moments, I heard a clink of something metallic breaking and the door popped open about three inches.
I was concerned that I might have cracked the blade, but it appeared fine. Handing the spear to Bridgett, I took out one of my silenced PMR-30's and handed the other one to Spec-4. She nodded and followed me through the door. I activated my tactical light and lit up the gigantic service bay.
The place was big enough to accommodate a vehicle the size of a large RV in each of the four bays. There was only one RV inside and the rest of the room appeared empty. We swept it anyway, just to be sure. We even cleared the RV and found it to be fully stocked for camping, but empty of anyone living or otherwise.
By unspoken consensus, we headed for the door that led into the front of the building, me going to the left and her to the right. We took up positions on either side of the door and listened for any sounds of movement. After a quick count to ten, I still hadn't heard anything. I
pounded on the door and waited for any sign that I had gotten something's attention. Still no sound came from the front offices.
Holding up three fingers, I made a chopping motion with my hand. When I brought my hand back up, I was only holding up two fingers. After the third chop, I kicked the door open and my light illuminated a carpeted hallway that led farther into the building. I swung around the doorframe and went in first. Spec-4 was right on my heels.
I checked all of the doors on the left while repeated the motion on the right. In very short order, we cleared the entire front of the building. Other than a few demonstration models of recreational vehicles on the showroom floor, there was nothing but furniture. In the little break room, I did find a coffee pot. Although it was electric, I wasn't concerned with the machine itself. Where there's a coffee pot, there's usually coffee. I struck gold in the third cabinet I checked.
Six blue plastic cans of aromatic goodness awaited me there. Only one was opened, the others still being vacu-sealed from the store. We also found some snack food and pastries, a bag of sugar and two large powdered creamer containers. Not that I would want it, but the others might. It all went into a plastic bag I found in a drawer.
Heading back into the large bay, we used the big manual chain pulley to open one of the bay doors and allow the horses inside. Bergelmir and Snake had arrived back by that time and reported that the fence was still in one piece. That meant we could bed down for the night without too much fear of being discovered.
The snow had steadily increased over the last few hours and it was now to the point that we knew our tracks would be completely covered within the next couple of hours. Without Banner to track us for them, they were going to have to rely on the Vargr to follow our scent. That was going to become all the more difficult with the snow burying our tracks and obscuring the direction that we had gone. Unless they had been following us all along, they would soon lose their ability to track us.
Ragnarok Rising: Desolation: Book Five of the Ragnarok Rising Saga Page 22
