by Steve Curry
I saw another Aztec pull the weapons out of Heather’s downed warrior while the rest of them formed a loose cordon around us. Luis got up and helped Heather to her feet while she watched with narrowed eyes. The one she had dealt with was brought a fresh gibbet of bloody fresh valentine’s meat. Like the others, he mended completely within seconds and stood up to take his weapon back despite the smear of his own blood along its length.
Gere backed up to the rest of us and bent down to ruffle Grimmr’s ears with a grin. He handed me one of the broken weapons. This one was mostly handle, with only a trio of obsidian shards left in the bottom half of the bat. The rest had been broken off, leaving me a handy little stone-age handaxe of razor-sharp perfection.
I faintly heard Heather behind me echoing an idea I’d heard days ago in the dreamworld. “Looks like we aren’t, like, a monopoly. These guys are totally, like, holy warriors too.”
I flushed at the memory. Hadn’t Hugin told me as much? That there were things in my memory that might help me stay alive. And I hadn’t stopped to consider that we might meet enemies as steeped in their own mythos and lore as we were. I heard Gere growl as another of his downed bikers was ripped open for consumption. There were still a few weakly struggling to get out of the arena. Once those were gone, or dead, we might face a decent chance. Then again how often could Heather repeat her little trick with the Valkyrie magic?
From her appearance and demeanor, I’d guess she was born in the seventies or maybe eighties. Just old enough to have experienced the Breakfast Club firsthand. The fact that she was openly traveling for days on end with just one Einherjar told me she was new to the gig.
I shrugged away my doubts and noticed my shirt was torn to shreds. That was nothing new, but from previous experience, I knew that tattered rags could become inconvenient handles or restraints in a fight. I ripped the hazardous material away to expose more of my runes and tattoos than most people ever get a chance to see.
I heard Gere grunt and speak to me with a name I hadn’t heard in ages. It wasn’t the name I was born with, but rather a badge given me my Kara “the tempestuous” herself when I was still loyal to my valkyrie. “Strombjorn, get ready. They are about to charge.”
I heard Luis and Heather both gasp behind me. Luis breathed out his own earthy phrase and a question that didn’t make a lot of sense initially. “Oh, shit Mija. You see that?”
“O.M.G. Oh HEL no. Like, this is totes some BS.” Heather sounded almost as scared as indignant. “WTF is Kara’s like, berserk enforcer, doing on our mission!?”
Enforcer? Berserk? Those didn’t ring any bells for me but then again I was still coming to grips with what I remembered versus what I had apparently lost. Was I the stormy one’s wetworks guy? Considering Wounded Knee, I couldn’t give that an absolute No. But I didn’t want to believe it either.
I was shaken from my reverie by the sound of a collective shout in Nahuatl as the prelude to an Aztec charge. And just like that, it crystalized. Aztec priests were known for sacrifice. The sacrifice was usually via removal of a heart. During such a ceremony they often blessed the best of their warriors.
I met the charge halfway. The big ugly fellow who had it in for me was in front. Apparently, he’d decided it was time to get revenge for his kitty cat. I ducked over the thunderous swing he tried to decapitate me with. Coming up with an underhand blow, my makeshift axe parted his belly a few inches below his sternum. The black shards continued up to rip into his sternum and ribs, while my free hand followed it.
I buried my hand to the wrist in his wound. From inches away I saw his eyes first widen, then close in agony. Meat and bone and worse parted around my questing fingers. I pushed harder, the corded muscles on my forearm standing out and starting to glow with the power of my own runes rather than the energy of valkyrie. Suddenly I felt the throbbing muscle in my palm.
With a savage wrenching motion, I jerked the heart from my chief Aztec adversary. He fell without a sound. Bonelessly, limp, and without any semblance of life, he collapsed into an untidy pile at my feet. The other Jaguar warriors stopped in stunned silence.
For one long breathless moment, we all stared at each other. Then I dropped the weakly fluttering meat in my hand to the sand and crushed it with one filthy tactical boot.
I called out to Gere over my shoulder.“Don’t stake the heart. Remove it. Now we are a little more even. You want to do this kitty cat boys?”
That last line was directed right at the suddenly hesitant Aztecs. The first three to recover charged me together. One swung low, one went for the decapitation, and the third brought a crushing overhand blow down at my face. There was no way to avoid them all. So I decided to go for the two I could avoid at once. I stepped back and down to the side. With luck, the overhand and the headshot would both miss completely. I was hoping the leg wounds wouldn’t be debilitating, but whatever happened I was taking the middle guy with me.
The upper decker was jerked to my left by the force of his swing, but the middle fellow was pushed forward by his own momentum and the downward blow of his weapon. I ripped him open from crotch to sternum with my now feeble axe so someone could give him the same treatment their dead hunting pack brother had received.
Tensing one’s thigh muscles is probably not a proper defense to super-sharp ancient weaponry. It was, however, all I had left in my bag of tricks at that precise moment. I saw Grimmr ride the wannabe headsman to the ground. My dog had his jaws locked at the nape of his victim’s neck. A surge of those shoulders would probably snap the neck bones and render said Aztec at least temporarily paralyzed. I couldn’t help but wish he’d gone for the one about to shorten me by a foot or two.
My worries were for naught. A barely audible shot rang out and I saw a hand gripping one of the brutal archaic swords fly past me to land harmlessly in the sand. Gere let out an almost joyful laugh from somewhere in his belly and bounded towards his own clump of warriors.
In the next breath, another shot filtered down to us and one of the warriors near Heather went down with the back of his neck gone in a spray of blood. We already knew that such a wound slowed them down and made them clumsy. Heather took advantage of that vulnerability.
She took the spasming warrior’s weapon away and neatly opened him from behind. I had a glimpse of the vicious Viking torture called the blood eagle as she spread the exposed ribs and pulled a beating heart out to pulp with her newly acquired weapon.
Just like that, the charge broke and Aztecs fell back to regroup. Heather helped steady Luis but I could tell he was still disoriented. If I had to guess, he’d been more dead than alive when she brought him back. That can take a while to adjust to. The brain doesn’t always keep pace with the body during magical healing.
“Hey, Moose, or Bjorn should I say?” Luis’ voice was husky but very intense. It looked like the hamsters were starting to stretch their legs in his cerebral wheel.
“Yeah Luis, or should I say Chosen?” It couldn’t hurt to remind him that I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.
“Right, well one chosen to another, can you promise me you’re not here to foil us or fuck up our job? We’ve heard stories, man. We know what Kara has used you for before.” His voice was steadier and he was standing on his own at least. Worse for me, he seemed to know more about my past than I did. Maybe Wounded Knee wasn’t the nastiest thing I’d perpetuated after all.
I decided not to convey that particular thought, or even to share my little amnesia problem. Instead, I replied with an innocuous assurance of sorts. “Chief, I promise you that all I am here for is to help the big bad wolf over there not get his house blown down.”
“Oh, My, Gawd” Heather was all relief and hesitant smiles. “You promise? Like for reals?”
Here we were still facing more than half a dozen sacred warriors almost as tough as we were, on their home ground, with a boss who was presumably meaner than they were, and this girl was worried about what tricks I might play on her? I had to chuckle and sha
ke my head at her. “Yea you got my word miss Val girl.”
“Val girl?” Her eyes flashed with a touch of the pure arrogance I remembered in Kara. She shrugged it off though and then looked with distaste at the weakly fluttering heart in her hand. With a grunt of effort, she closed her fist and various fluids squirted between her fingers.
Heather looked up at me with a coolness that reminded me, young she might be, but she’d had whatever it takes to be chosen as a Valkyrie, chooser of the slain and battle maiden. Her voice even dropped the valley girl accent and spoke in icy, aloof intensity. “You have this in hand then. Luis and I made a promise. We will go free Perro’s people and then see about finishing off Achilles since the coyote can not. Good luck, Chosen of Kara.”
She turned on her heel and stalked towards the trio of Jaguar warriors between her and a ground-level exit out of the arena. I got to see exactly what she meant by “good luck”. Two warriors managed to get tangled up and sprawl all over each other trying to get to her. Another caught a sudden random swirl of sand blown up from the arena floor just in time to blind him.
Heather simply walked through them while Luis followed, walking backward to face us while she led the way behind him. “She’s good no? No interest at all in weapons or runes but three black belts and that whole luck in battle thing. She does battle fortune with the best of them.”
He punctuated his statement by pulling a knife off the belt of one of the dead bikers. With that in hand, he carefully opened up the blinded Aztec and cut his heart out before pulping it with the handle of the borrowed WWII vintage Kabar marine corps knife.
The remaining Aztecs were a little heartened by the sudden change of odds. They regrouped and charged as one. Gere and I rushed to meet them with their own weapons. On the outskirts of our fight, Grimmr circled to slash fangs at opportune ankles and calves. And for the entire short battle, shot after shot cracked down with each sounding closer than the last, and each shot finding a weapon, hand, or semi-vital target in one of our enemies.
In less than two minutes Gere and I stood in the middle of the sand, covered in the gore of heart-blood while Grimmr bounded around, overjoyed with this new game he got to play with dad. From the top of the same steps we had descended, Franco tossed a small duffel down to land at my feet. “I couldn’t bring everything. But they forgot that bag and the M2010 sniper system.”
His grin was infectious enough that I returned it even before I opened the duffel to find a few of the toys he had sold me at good ole professor Eachan’s expense. I pulled out the tomahawk with its inscriptions as well as the combat knife. There was also a suppressed .40 cal semi-automatic pistol with four loaded magazines.
I stuck the knife in my boot and the pistol behind my belt. Without really thinking about it, I tucked the blade of the rune enhanced tomahawk through my rear belt loop and secured the handle with a loop several inches away. It left the weapon hanging almost exactly like I used to wear my seax ages ago.
“I’d say you were a little late. But it’s hard to argue with results.” I grinned and thrust out a hand to grip his forearm in the ancient tradition of a warrior’s handshake. “Let me introduce you to Mr. Gary.”
A sudden thought brought me up short as I introduced the two and they exchanged names and wary glances. This normal everyday mortal mercenary and gun-runner had just engaged in a firefight of sorts with supernatural creatures while we ripped their hearts out and disposed of them. Where exactly was the fear, the revulsion, the gibbering insanity?
The sound of approaching footsteps put all of those thoughts on the back burner. All four of us, dog included, turned to face the newest threat. What we got were a few dozen women and girls being gently shepherded towards us by Heather while Luis watched the perimeter. The modern Einherjar was moving better, and more importantly, was absolutely loaded down with weapons. Multiple handguns were in his belt or holstered on borrowed web gear while he carried an AR and had a grenade launcher slung over his shoulder.
“They had a few guards. It wasn’t even fair with my Chula watching my back.” He tossed Heather a delighted little smile for her help in assassinating or at least defeating several men. She returned the smile with a blush and a half-curtsy.
“They said Achilles has gone into the tunnels.” Heather paused and pointed to where some recent excavation was barely visible behind heavy digging equipment. “He has some little lady with him that he said he needs for blood sacrifice.”
“Elena, his half-sister.” The growl was barely distinguishable but very accurately portrayed Gere’s rage at the plans for exsanguination.
I mentally slapped a hand on my forehead. “Elena? Pretty little thing, with caramel and cream skin, melted butter eyes? Has that innocent purity you usually associate with schoolgirls, nuns, and librarians? Calls a lady named Dolores her Abuela.”
He tempered his rage with a quickfire and very self-satisfied smirk. “ Its Princesa Dolores and Elena’s not all that innocent.”
I had forgotten Pedro’s story that part of the trouble Gere was in had to do with dating the evil villain’s sister. So maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she seemed. I couldn’t forget the pure and chaste kiss she’d bestowed on my cheek as thanks for a ride though. She might have fallen for the old wolf’s tricks, but she was still pretty unbesmirched in my books.
“Ok, so let's go get her and punch his teeth in while we’re at it.” My statement seemed pretty obvious as I double checked my meager collection of weapons compared to Luis and his walking arsenal.
It took a minute for me to register the awkward silence. When I looked up, Gere and Luis were shaking their heads somberly while Heather cleared her throat before answering. “As if! No can do Kahuna. Like, holy ground, it's totally off-limits for us. It would have been like a spoonful of bad for sure taking this bitch outside. He answers to tres different bosses from us. But if we go into the tunnels to fight him. Like totes different gods and stuff. Rival holy man, totally rival holy ground, the one-eyed wonder would totally wig out if we like pissed-off in two different sets of divine wheaties at once.”
“Gods on gods on gods huh?” I couldn’t stifle a groan. As if worrying about a divine comeuppance from Odin and a vengeful Kara weren’t enough.
For once Heather looked less than blondely oblivious. She simply nodded and then shrugged with her palms up. “Sorry BearMoose. Our hands are like, tied to the max. Odin would be royally pissed.”
The thought of a sweet and cute little girl lying on some cold stone altar started to bug me. I could still remember the clean soapy scent of her as she bestowed her simple thank you. It wasn’t like that was even my job. I’d signed on to get Gere out. We could leave right that moment and I would not be forsworn. My part of the bargain was complete. Right?
Gere cleared his throat. “The all-father would not easily forgive this Strombjorn. Would that it were different. The girl is dear to me. But I can not even set foot in those eldritch chambers. My link to the one-eyed would stop me as effectively as Gleipnir chains Fenrir.”
I sighed and racked the slide back to make sure there was a round chambered in my pistol. “Pretty sure he’s already pissed at me.”
17
All three of the others tried to dissuade me. It became evident that Kara had not put out a bulletin about my escape from her fold. They all seemed to think I had been working on some project of hers or else had been put in cold storage for a while. Nobody was advertising that I’d gone off-reservation. Which meant all of them assumed I was worried about Odin punishing me when we all went to Valhalla after this thing was settled. Good thing I didn’t plan to return until somebody caved in my head enough to send me back.
Upshot was, they had to give up their arguments or follow me down. I went through some recent construction, or maybe destruction? They’d torn a hole in the side of the hill and bored a tunnel down to where the bedrock made them curve a good ninety degrees in a gentle arc.
I came to the end of the tunnel and found my
self in a cave. The half of the cave directly before me was all recent work. Tools still lay around. The other half, however, was dominated by a large vault-like wall of stone. Along its border ran carved figures of fanciful creatures and people wearing exotic outfits. There were irregularly shaped buildings and more of the weird conch like helmets on a few of the humanoid carvings.
“You must be better than most Yankee dogs. My warriors would have eaten most such with ease. Yet here you are.” Achilles strolled into view with Elena clasped tightly by her bound wrists.
The only way I knew it was Achilles was from his headdress and voice. The rest of his features were hidden by an elaborate costume. The cloak was made of vibrant flowers that had dried and become bedraggled after a long time in storage somewhere. His own face and hair were covered by a pale leather mask and a scraggly dark wig.
As he continued speaking, his voice changed. It took on a totally unfamiliar accent and became heavier, more primal.“You can not stop the ritual though. I have worked for thousands of years for this moment. Now wearing the face of Yaocihuatl and with the blood of ancient royalty. I shall open the chamber and retrieve the riches we barely touched before the little sister here escaped.”
“Thousands of years eh? Damn you look good. I wouldn’t have placed you a day over eight hundred.” I edged into the chamber and with the gun hidden in my hand behind one thigh, I sidled a few feet closer. “But who the Hel is yowie hottel or whatever you said?”
Even through the mask, I felt the heat of his anger. “Yaocihuatl, the Culhuacan princess we made into a Mexicah goddess. Her sacrifice would have opened the chamber of the ancients had we not been forced to flee!”
Again his eyes flashed and his teeth actually gnashed behind, what I now realized with a tightening of my stomach, was the skin of an ancient princess. “But now I have another princess. Dear Achilles’ little half-sister who’s mother bore the same ancient blood as Yaocihuatl before her. A bloodline that I have traced from tens of thousands of years ago to make this day possible!”
