Hammer of the Gods

by B. D. MacCallum

  As annoyed as he was at the moment, curiosity had him wondering what was offered this time. There were no reports of Mona Lisa’s disappearance, so Thor’s last suggestion had been passed-off as a joke. I had to see how far the old bat was willing to go. Though I’d gladly kill anything – within reason – she pointed at, for the name of the person behind the dead body in Copenhagen! He made his way to the lounge, Mio Cane following close behind.

  Nicolae Kurkov was sitting on a leather sofa, watched closely by Bryndis, Mikki and Julia. He was average height and slender build. Some women might not find him offensive to look at, if he fixed those crooked teeth and got that mole removed from his upper lip. The Romanian man rose as Thor entered the room and started to speak until Thor cut him off.

  “You’ve got two minutes,” Thor said roughly.

  The slender Romanian ran fingers through his light-brown hair, his brown eyes darting from person to person. “Mister Odinsson, we need – “

  Thor held up a hand to silence the man. “I gave you three names, call them. I’m sure one of them will “help” you.”

  “Ah, yes,” Nicolae said with a grimace, “Mister Whitman, Mister Leek, and Mister Timmons.”

  He reached into his pocket, then handed Thor a tablet.

  Thor scanned through the images of mutilated bodies. Two could have been anyone – or anything. Unfortunately, that was definitely Clayton Timmons’ face – what was left of it – on the screen.

  That was impossible, those men were too good to end up like this. Clayton Timmons took down a twelve-hundred-pound Kodiak with a spear for the Gods’ sake! Cory Whitman was as good as it gets, and David Leek played a game of tag with a Black Rhino, just to prove it could be done. Whatever did this was way out of Thor’s league, and he had inclination to find out whose league it was in, either.

  Thor handed the tablet back to Nicolae. “I can’t help you,” he said roughly. “Tell Selucca Lazarovici, she can keep her money. Your two minutes are up.” He turned, and headed toward the sun deck.

  “C’mon, Sugah” Mikki said, grabbing Nicolae Kurkov by the arm. “I’ll show you the way out.”

  “Wait, Mister Odinsson!” Nicolae shouted, resisting Mikki’s shoves toward the door. “No money; a Viking relic!”

  “You have the wrong Odinsson. Viking relics were my grandfather’s thing, not mine,” Thor said over his shoulder. “And he’s dead, so you’re out of fucking luck.”

  “Please, Mister Odinsson, just look at it before you send me away. Please!”

  Thor stopped. He sighed, then turned around. He put up a hand before Mikki put the Romanian man in a choke-hold. “Let’s see it,” he said reluctantly.

  “Thank you, Mister Odinsson,” Nicolae said, smoothing his ruffled hair. He took a small case form his jacket pocket, giving Mikki a mocking smile. “In this case is an amulet from the Viking age, a farmer near Darabani unearthed it from his field.”

  “He’s lying,” Bryndis said, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “We’ve seen it, it’s a fake.”

  “It is no fake, Miss Angantýrsdóttir.” Nicolae smiled, then laid the case on a table. He opened it slowly, then backed away, gesturing for Thor to inspect the contents.

  “I’m with Bryn, Sugah,” Mikki said quickly. “The only Viking age that thing’s seen, was on a movie set.”

  Thor moved closer, peering into the red-velvet lined box with heightened curiosity. Chills ran down his spine, as if he had been dropped into a pool of freezing water. The color drained from his face as he gazed at the treasure. His heart was in his throat, and his hand trembled as his fingers closed around the heavy gold chain to bring it into the light.

  The links were flawless and gleaming… and, somehow, seamless. As much as Thor could tell without a microscope, they were completely solid, as if they had been formed by removing the gold from around them to form a chain. Thor had seen this done as a child, but with wood, on a much larger scale. Whoever created this was a master without equal.

  As fine as the chain was, it paled in comparison to the pendant hanging from it. On one side of the two-inch disk were two ravens facing away from each other, their wings woven together in an intricate lattice-work pattern. The detail was so fine, Thor half-expected them to squawk and fly from his hand. On the back was an eye, with a runic inscription circling the outer edge. Reading and translating the phonetic symbols was his grandfather’s forte, not his, but Thor knew the arrangement of these runes – and their meaning all too well. His grandfather made sure of it.

  Lys i Mørke, Light in the Darkness.

  It took effort, but Thor regained his composer. He returned the amulet, and closed the case. “Where did you get this?” he asked Nicolae Kurkov evenly.

  Amusement shone in the Romanian’s eyes. Given Thor’s reaction, the Romanian earned the right to be amused. “Like I said, a farmer found it buried in his field.”

  Thor pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket – ignoring the glare from Bryndis – and lit it with a match. “I asked: where did you get this?” He tossed the extinguished match into a tray next to the case on the table.

  Nicolae shrugged. “From the farmer; he had been trying to – how do you say – hock it. Your friends aren’t the first to believe it to be of modern manufacture, so no one offered more than the weight of the gold.”

  “I’ll give you twice what you paid,” Thor said quietly.

  “I gave the farmer one million Euros in cash,” Nicolae said.

  Thor smiled, never blinking. “Two million Euros it is, then.”

  “Have you lost your mind, Sugah?” Mikki’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

  “Hold on, Bwoy. Dat chunk o' gold ain’t worth ten thousand dollars, let alone two million!”

  Bryndis’ eyes fell on the case for a moment , before eyeing Thor suspiciously. She said nothing, but Thor knew a ton of questions were coming later.

  Nicolae Kirkov’s lips curled into a wry smile. “Madam Selucca said you would say that. She also said to tell you, it’s not for sale.”

  Thor stared into the man’s deep-brown eyes. The eyes are windows to the soul. They would betray the most convincing lie, and tell you things about that person; things they did not want you to know. Nicolae Kurkov believed the amulet was worthless beyond the price of the gold, and Thor was a fool.

  He was wrong on both counts.

  Thor closed the case, and placed it under his arm. He turned, then began to walk away without a word, cigar smoke trailing behind.

  “I’ll tell Madam Selucca, you’ve agreed to help her.”

  “The only thing I’ve agreed to, is think it over,” Thor said without stopping.

  * * *

  Bryndis’ insides were shaking as she watched Thor leave the room. He could be such an infuriating man! That boy alone had the innate ability to make her want to scream! She had screamed many, many times over the past nineteen years; so many that she could have screamed till her lungs collapsed. He was inconsiderate, manipulative, conniving, secretive, and shameless- the gods know if that boy had any shame at all. He lives his life with reckless abandon; always believing his beautiful blue eyes and gorgeous smile will keep him out of trouble.

  He wouldn’t be half as bad, if every woman trying to put their hooks in him didn’t act like a stray cat in heat!

  On the other hand, that boy could be the warmest, most caring, loving person in the world. He has given away a fortune to charities; especially those involving children. If it were wrestled out of him, any promise he made, he kept… no matter how much he regretted having made the promise in the first place.

  If the years spent with Thor Odinsson taught Bryndis anything it would be the only constant was his inconsistency.

  She sighed. God help me, I love that man.

  She hated to admit that, even to herself, but it was true. She knew it nearly twenty years ago, when a grieving thirteen-year-old boy cried himself to sleep in her arms.

  “I will return to Romania, and tell Madam Se
lucca to expect mister Odinsson,” Nicolae Kurkov said with a smile.

  A second later, Bryndis was holding him up by his shirt, and was immediately reminded of her age. Twenty years ago, she could have pulled the scrawny runt off the floor with one hand. Now it took two, and the only thing keeping her from dropping him was rage. “Silence, you smug little fucker,” she said through gritted teeth. “One more word from you, and we’ll see how well you swim.” Gods, I’m starting to sound like Thor.

  Else came into the room with a half-eaten sandwich. “I could fly us a couple hundred miles into international waters, if you like, Bryn. Then we could see what he’s really made of.” She smiled, then took a bite from the sandwich.

  “I told you not to come back!” Bryndis said with fury. “I said, if you came back, I’d kill you.”

  The greasy, Romanian pig grabbed Bryndis’ wrists, and began to squirm. She slammed his back against the wall, bouncing his head off the walnut paneling. In the blink of an eye, Mikki held a curved knife to the man’s throat, while Else held her .45 caliber Sig Sauer to the side of his head. Julia was at her back, but it was doubtful the cunning old fox was empty-handed.

  Bryndis knew the girls would always have her back, there was far too much between then to believe otherwise.

  “Do you have any idea whom I represent? Madam Selucca will –” The pig cut off as the sound of machine gun bolts being pulled back and sliding into place resonated behind Bryndis.

  Bryndis turned her head. It was easy to see why the Romanian pig was ready to piss his pants.

  Nwabudike Adeyemi’s coal-black eyes were staring a hole through Nicolae Kurkov’s skull. She had not heard them enter the room, but the way they moved throughout the ship as silent as wraiths, they probably materialized behind her.

  The six men, forming a neat line at Nwabudike’s right, held the muzzles of large-caliber automatic weapons pointed at the floor, their unblinking eyes staring at the wall behind Nicolae Kurkov’s head. They were quite an impressive sight in those camouflage uniforms and maroon berets, lined up like the firing squad Bryndis had no doubt they had been before.

  They would shoot at the slightest provocation, Bryndis was sure of it; she had seen them in action off the coast of Somalia. They were both deadly accurate with those weapons; and merciless when it came to the security of this ship. Bryndis would have her wisdom teeth pulled without anesthetic to learn where they came from, and the deal that Julia made to get them here.

  Just before his death, Vali Odinsson had given Bryndis a list of contacts to help her with any situation that may arise. That list put her in contact with some of the scariest people on Earth – people that frightened Bryndis enough to give her nightmares. They were nothing compared to the present crew of this ship.

  So far, it had proven to be a very good thing. Then again, there was no promise beyond Julia’s, this band of assassins would not one day, toss them all overboard and sail off.

  “Get this… man off my ship,” Julia spat.

  “Yes, Captain,” Nwabudike said with a deep voice.

  Bryndis, reluctantly, dropped the pig and backed away.

  With a huff, Kurkov straightened his clothes, giving Bryndis a hate-filled stare. The tall, African nodded toward the doorway, his face as emotionless as granite, and the Romanian took his unspoken advice. The armed men fell in behind Nwabudike with steady, even paces of a well-practiced honor guard. Their heavy boots echoed down the corridor like drumbeats, fading once they turned the corner.

  Julia slammed the door shut with her foot. She gave Mikki a look and the wiry woman sprinted to the terrace entrance, peering about before closing sliding glass door. “Ya lost your mind, girl?” Julia asked, nostrils flaring.

  “That pig deserves to die!” Bryndis snapped.

  “I ain’t arguin’ dat point, plenty o’ men need killin’.” Julia pointed a finger at Bryndis. “BUT NOT ON DIS SHIP!” she yelled. “Ya have no idea what it takes ta keep da wolves off dis ship.” That was not true; Bryndis knew a great deal more than Julia gave her credit for. “Kurkov was seen boardnin’ dis ship; he’s damned well gonna been seen leavin’, smilin’ or no.”

  Bryndis met Julia’s glare, though, somehow the old woman made her feel ashamed, wanting to look away.

  “I could follow him,” Mikki said, fingering the blade of that wicked knife of hers. “Bleed him real quiet in an alley. I could make it look like a robbery.”

  “Is dere one o’ ya dat’s got a lick o’ sense?!” Julia snapped.

  Bryndis sighed, shaking her head. “It’s too late for that, now. You know Thor’s deal was with Selucca Lazarovici, not that pig.”

  “What was dat medallion, anyway?” Julia asked. “Da way Thor went white, ya’d tink da Devil came to claim his soul.” It was not too surprising that Vali never told Julia; the Gods only know how many she would have killed to keep the amulet out of Thor’s hands.

  Bryndis’ heart sank. He did! “I don’t know,” she said quietly. It was not a complete lie; she knew a few bits and pieces that Vali had told her, but if she explained what she knew of the amulet, she would have to explain a great deal more. Bryndis loved these women as sisters – maybe not so much Julia – but this was her burden alone to bear.

  “So, what do we do, now?” Else’s eyes flickered from one woman to the next.

  Each woman gave the others measuring looks. Bryndis smiled, and nodded slowly. They were women; some things needed no words to be agreed on. They would do whatever it took to protect Thor; even from himself.

  Julia was the first to leave. Else waited a moment before leaving – most likely toward the kitchen, now that the last of her sandwich was gone. Mikki slipped out the sliding glass door. With luck, Julia’s men would not let her leave the ship. Just because no one wanted her to kill Kurkov in an alley – making it look like a robbery – did not mean she would not. Bryndis took a deep breath before heading toward her cabin.

  Bryndis closed the door behind her, locked it with a shudder. She crossed her room, feeling as if her legs would give way at any second. She sank into the leather chair facing her terrace door. Her view of the Columbia River was breathtaking, and even better at sunset, but nothing could brighten her present mood. She could feel despair washing over her like a tidal wave.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  I’ve failed, Vali. I’ve worked so hard to avoid this, and I’ve failed. I only hope Thor’s ready. The Gods know we did our best to prepare him for what’s coming, but he’s still just a boy…

  Dark clouds rolled in as Bryndis silently wept. A strong north wind sent sleet and rain to pound the ship. Lightning lit the sky, forking in all directions. The thunder that followed shook the ship.

  Bryndis closed her eyes. It has begun!

  Chapter 13

  For the first time in years, Thor sat in his grandfather’s study. The old man often said it was his favorite place on the ship; Julia said that was a lie. She would smile sheepishly, and his grandfather would slap her playfully on the rear, sending her giggling from the room like a teenaged-girl. For a brief moment, Thor would see his grandfather smile as he watched her leave with adoration.

  Then, all too quickly, the sadness would return to his grandfather’s eyes. Sometimes Thor swore there was pity in his grandfather’s eyes whenever he looked at him, like he knew a horrible truth he dare not say.

  Dusty, silent as a tomb, and thick with a musty scent that belonged in a library’s basement or museum’s storage, the room was homage to the two burning passions of Vali Odinsson’s life: Family and anything to do with the Viking era – in that order – all mixed together in a strange collage that only made sense to one old man.

  Battered swords – or the remnants thereof – hung on the walls next to brightly painted replica shields. Pieces of iron or bone tools crowded the shelves. Silver and gold jewelry sat in cases. Ancient books – some so decayed they were no longer readable – were everywhere. Every item had been brought back from his grandfath
er’s extensive travels and excavations, more than a few smuggled onto the ship under the cover of darkness.

  In the midst of it all, were dozens of photographs; on the walls, jammed between priceless artifacts – some of which were piled to make room for frames – and the desk was so full, only a tiny square remained empty for work. It was impossible to focus on a relic without being drawn into a photo of some family member’s smiling face. The old man said family was the reason for being, and he would do whatever he had to do to protect them.

  The entire study centered around a large portrait of Thor’s great-grandparents, Odin and Rakel, hanging above the gas fireplace, the words: Adapto Expuno etched in medieval calligraphy on the brass plate adorning the ornate frame. The family motto “Adapt and Overcome” was a gift from the Gods for unyielding valor in the face of certain destruction – according to Thor’s grandfather. A statement like that was impossible to prove, of course. As his grandfather pointed out with a grin, it was just as impossible to disprove.

  Thor rubbed his head, as he poured himself a glass of twenty-one year old, single malt Scotch. The whiskey was undisputedly the finest ever to come out of the highlands. It should be, for the price his grandfather ended-up paying for the barrel! Thor took a sip. It went down smooth as silk, though he was a bit disappointed a bagpiper did not materialize, and play a highland tune while he drank. But, you can’t have it all, can you?

  Thor puffed his cigar back to life, and continued to read.

  The book was an exact copy of the one Thor kept in the workshop’s vault, sealed in a gold lined box to prevent further damage. This one had been tucked neatly away in a safe behind the desk. Vali was paranoid when it came to this book, and he passed that paranoia down to Thor’s father, Balder, and finally, to Thor.

  And, given today’s revelation, paranoia no longer seemed a fitting word.

  Thor found the page he was searching for. His Latin was a bit rusty, but he managed well enough.

  And Odin placed around my father’s neck an amulet with images of Huginn and Muninn on it. Odin called the amulet Ydrenir, and said it was forged by the dwarves Brokkr and Eitri. The amulet gave the wearer the power to see the unseen, and know the unknown.