Hammer of the Gods

by B. D. MacCallum

  Doru Albusel stared at Mikki with hollow eyes, then held a hand out to Thor, helping him to his feet. “Know this, Miss Mikki, there’s no such thing as ‘just another dead man’ to me. Keep that straight, and we’ll get along, beautifully.”

  Mikki nodded slowly, color rising in her cheeks.

  “You ready for lunch, Sugah?” she asked Thor.

  “I’m starving,” he replied quickly.

  “Good!” she said, relieving him of the rifle, handing it to Doru. “Two laps around the perimeter – this time go over the boulders, not around – and you can have all you want.”

  Thor began to dash away; Mikki whistled loudly, halting him in place.

  She hopped onto Thor’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck, and locking her legs around his waist. “What are you waiting for? MOVE!”

  * * *

  Sorina Lazarovici stood atop the wall walk, watching in amazement as the man claiming not to be a thief took off again with that woman on his back. How could a man that eats, drinks, and smokes the way he does, have that kind of stamina?

  This Thor Odinsson was a peculiar man, with the strangest sense of humor she had ever seen. When he was not telling her a senseless joke, he was flirting endlessly. At least, she assumed his actions were meant to be flirtatious. It was difficult to be sure; most of the time it was difficult figure out just what he was thinking.

  Her first instincts were correct; Thor Odinsson was a spoiled child, used to getting his way by pretending to be sincere with every woman that crosses his path. Why would he be otherwise? Half the women around keep herding around him like sheep to clover. If one more woman in this place giggles like a little girl when he smiles at her, I’ll bring back flogging. I swear it!

  She watched as he came closer, bounding over the large boulders dotting the landscape, with that loud-mouthed Michelle Acier clinging to his back like a gangly, hairless orangutan. His hair was matted, his shirt soaked, and sweat ran down his muscular arms and legs, glistening in the sun. For the briefest second, Sorina let her mind wander. Then she mentally slapped her own face, telling herself she was not one of those silly women fool enough to fall that man’s so called charm. Perhaps he should try to smile the beast to death, instead of using that rifle; he’d stand a better chance of surviving!

  At least, she would not fall victim to that smile and those blue eyes, no matter how beautiful they were. Even if bringing her back a basket filled with wild strawberries and brightly colored flowers from the forest for this morning’s breakfast was the most romantic thing she had ever seen. He was a damned fool for wandering the woods alone before dawn. Foolish man!

  Thor hopped from one boulder to another as easily as if the extra weight were nothing, then nearly went to one knee as he jumped to the ground. He recovered incredibly smoothly, keeping his balance with the slightest touch from his hand to the grass. How that man could do all that with that woman yelling in his ear was beyond Sorina’s comprehension.

  “She loves him, doesn’t she?” Sorina asked the woman standing next to her.

  “Yes,” Bryndis Angantýrsdóttir replied quickly; too quickly for Sorina’s liking.

  “And he loves her?” Sorina asked.

  “Yes,” Bryndis Angantýrsdóttir said, again too quickly.

  “They are lovers?”

  “Gods no,” Bryndis Angantýrsdóttir said with a chuckle. “Though it would be interesting to see which one was still breathing, come morning.”

  Sorina leaned against the thick stone merlon, poking her head through a cranial as they came close to the wall. Even from fifty yards away, his bright-blue eyes were beautiful. Her mind began to drift again, uncontrollably. Then he looked up smiled, and blew her a kiss, ruining the moment. “Insufferable man,” she said under her breath.

  Bryndis Angantýrsdóttir gave her a sideways glance, smirking. “Know him a while, and you’ll be saying that for the rest of your life.”

  Sorina turned striding away quickly, gritting her teeth. She had no intention of dealing with that arrogant bastard any longer than absolutely necessary! They were the tastiest strawberries ever, though! He must have been searching for hours to find them.

  * * *

  By early afternoon, a storm raged through. It passed after two hours of pouring rain and howling winds, leaving behind thick, deep-gray clouds hanging overhead, so low you could almost touch them from atop the curtain wall. A cool, damp wind blew, adding to Thor’s frustration and misery. The storm was battering Constanța now, grounding the Blackhawk from further flights. Nwabudike was anxious to receive the rest of the men Thor promised to bring, but that would have to wait until tomorrow morning. Else conveyed her ability to deliver the men in the rough weather with her usual confidence, until Thor promised to sell the helicopter if she tried.

  Lunch had been a beautiful grilled salmon fillet, rice, a pile of mixed vegetables, bread with butter, and a glass of wine… all ruined with two glasses of Bryndis’ vile mixture for dessert, while Mikki made sure he swallowed every drop. Somehow, his flask of Scotch, along with the decanter of brandy and bottle of Russian vodka from the side table had disappeared from his room during his run, so he nothing but water to cut the evil taste.

  At the moment, he was not so sure Mikki was actually training him as much as punishing him for an unknown crime. It was slowing sinking in, the longer a woman knew Bryndis the more they worked together to make his life a living Hel, like a resentful tag-team. I wonder how long it will be before they get Sorina on their side?

  He strode down the wall walk, heading for Nwabudike and Doru Albusel, puffing his cigar furiously. Three glasses of water, and he still had the taste of vomit coating his tongue. If his cache of cigars just happened to vanish next, he would break Mikki’s neck.

  The defensive wall surrounding the ancient castle was impressive; forty feet tall, thirty at the base, and eighteen at the top, the battlement was topped with high merlons, fitted with arrow slits in each, two watch towers between taller ones at each corner. A wide, deep ditch lay outside the wall, filled with sharp rocks, holes, and other surprises. Selucca said the structure was completed around 1040, and was never besieged. Thor did not doubt the last part; a small army could hold off a nation for decades.

  A chill ran down Thor’s spine as the scent of something wrong wafted by. If pure, unadulterated hatred had a scent; it would be the stench that currently curled Thor’s nose hair until his eyes watered. Though the scent was gone as quickly as it arose, Mio leaned his body against Thor’s thigh, forcing him away from the parapet, the dog’s teeth bared and his eyes straining to see the source of the scent.

  “Easy, boy,” Thor said quietly. The dog jerked his head, snapping at Thor’s hand as he rubbed between Mio’s ears. It took a second for any sign of recognition in Mio’s eyes. When there was, Mio’s tail wagged furiously as he licked Thor’s hand, then rubbed his face against Thor’s leg.

  Thor was on the last leg around his lap of the wall, feeling pleased with himself. There was a full 360 degree view, the nearest the forest line came was just over a mile to the east, a 300 foot rock face two miles to the north, running nearly perpendicular with the north wall, and a rolling landscape to the south and west. Beyond the boulder formations, there was nowhere to hide. The men had installed night-vision cameras, motion detectors, and updated the defenses from shotguns and rifles to .50 caliber Browning machine guns and grenade launchers, evenly spaced along the walls, tipping the odds a little more in their favor.

  Now, the only thing left to do: wear-down the dark-haired lady of the castle, while they waited.

  “I don’t think all your equipment will do you much good, Mister Odinsson, “Doru Albusel said as Thor drew closer.

  “I understand your concerns, Mister Albusel,” Thor said. “But I feel a shit-load safer than I did yesterday. How about you, Nwabudike?”

  The Nigerian man’s dark eyes flickered a second. “I may not sleep well until we leave this place, but I fell considerably bett
er about our security.”

  “Greggor Tere was the last man killed,” Doru said. “His rifle was a foot taller than he was when I started to train him, and he was pulled of the wall without the men on either side of him knowing till the screaming started out there.” He pointed toward a stone outcropping.

  “An eye-in-the-sky could be useful,” Nwabudike said to Thor.

  “I’ve been working on just that,” Thor said. “It’s proving to be an… interesting game of Three-Card Monte. I just need to find the right mark.”

  After a bland meal Thor hoped to forget soon, he sat in his room, staring at the early evening sky, Mio stretched out at his feet.

  Crimson and orange clouds gathered in the west, while the dark purple cloak of night drew ever closer from the east. A large bat flew in the distance, causing Thor to snicker. In the morning, he would have to tell Mikki he saw Dracula. There were several short bursts of gunfire; the men of the night watch were instructed how to reload and fire the Brownings; and they seemed just as exuberant as the day watch. Thor offered a silent prayer they did not shoot each other or any of his crew during the night. That would definitely put a damper on everyone’s mood.

  There was a light wrap at the door, followed by the creaking of hinges as it opened slowly.

  “May I come in?” Selucca asked, not waiting for a reply. The door swung wide, and one of the women he had seen scurrying around the past day-and-a-half, pushing a wheeled cart. Selucca closed the door quickly, and the other woman wheeled the cart in Thor’s direction. The smell of hot smoked ham reached Thor’s nose long before he saw it piled on the platter beneath the silver cover.

  Mio barely lifted his head long enough to see what the disturbance was; letting it drop with a “Harrumph”. He got to eat a huge meal, sent to him by Christelle, and the Gods only know what she spoiled him with, today!

  “Thank you, Larissa,” Selucca said, pulling a heavy chair close with surprising ease.

  Larissa gave a curt nod, then promptly left the room.

  Thor removed the silver cover. There were thick slabs of brown bread, butter, pears, dried figs and sliced melon next to enough ham to feed five grown men.

  Selucca smiled at him. “Your friends Bryndis and Mikki mean well, but I had a growing boy, you know. Food is just as much nourishment for the soul, as well as the body.” She slipped a hand beneath the white-linen cloth draped over the cart and placed a bottle of champagne on top. A bottle of brandy appeared next. “Excellent for digestion,” she said with a sly smile.

  “Right you are,” Thor said, opening the champagne. He poured two full glasses, handing one to Selucca.

  Selucca raised her glass. “Live, love, and laugh,” she toasted, a sad smile creasing her aging face.

  Thor clinked her glass, then downed the chilled wine in one gulp. “That’s what gramps always said.

  Selucca appeared aghast. “That old bastard stole my line.” The twinkle in her eyes gave away her true feelings long before she burst out laughing. “This is no place to stand on ceremony, eat, Thor. Eat.”

  Thor did not need further encouragement. He tore into the ham like he had not eaten in weeks, buttered a slice of bread, and bit into the still warm goodness before Mikki found what they were up to. He offered Selucca a place; she declined with a wave of her hand.

  “When I was a young girl,” she said, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “I could’ve eaten every morsel on that tray, slept through the night, and awoken feeling starved. Now, I am old, and I would be up all night, regretting just a few bits too late in the evening.” She took a sip of champagne. “Despite the ‘digestive aids’,” she said, chuckling.

  Thor ate his fill, amazed at what an absolute glutton he had been, eyeing the pitiful scraps remaining on the platter. He gave Selucca an apologetic look, grateful, but apologetic.

  She shook her head. “Like I said, I had a growing boy. I’ll let you get your rest. Don’t get up,” she said with the wave of her hand. “I’m not a queen. Besides, you must be exhausted.”

  The lazy pile of fur at Thor’s feet never stirred a muscle, as the door closed softly behind Selucca.

  Thor brought the champagne bottle to his lips, downing the last swallow, and sinking back into the chair. He stared out the window into the deepening gloom, feeling the effects of a full belly and a long day. He was exhausted. It was everything he could do to keep his eyelids from slamming shut.

  Just a minute, he thought, his eyelids drooping slowly, I’ll go to bed in a minute. I’m so tired, I could sleep for a week. The blackness was reaching for him, dragging down to the depths of its darkest regions, and he let it; he had to sleep, he was so tired.

  Before he drifted too far to sleep, his eyes popped open as if he were kicked in the back of his head. “I’ve got you now, motherfucker!” he exclaimed excitedly.

  Thor nearly leaped from the chair, then rushed for the door, Mio barking twice, before following him closely. He saw Selucca in the hall, and nearly ran to her. The old woman gave a start as he rushed up to her.

  May I borrow Doru Albusel?” he asked hurriedly.

  She gave a puzzled look, then nodded quickly. “Yes. Take whomever you need.”

  Thor kissed her on her wrinkled cheek, ran down the hall, bounded down the stairs two at a time, and into the lounge. Nwabudike and a few of the crew sprang to their feet, ready to draw their weapons.

  “Mister Albusel!” Thor forced himself not to shout, “I require your assistance, first thing in the morning.”

  “Yes sir!” the man replied without hesitation.

  “Nwabudike, put a four-man crew together, and get a good night’s sleep.” Thor met the cold-eyed stare with a grin. “We’re going hunting after breakfast.” Thor chuckled to himself as a wave of understanding washed over every face in the room.

  * * *

  “Just what the hell did you do to him out in the forest?” Bryndis said to Mikki, after Thor retreated back to his room.

  “Not me, Sugah,” Mikki protested loudly. “It had to be too much of your concoction.”

  Nwabudike stood, pointed to three men, and started for the door.

  “You’re not seriously going to let him go out there?” Bryndis said to the man.

  Nwabudike paused for a moment, stared her in the eye, then said plainly: “I am seriously going to do my best to keep him alive, wherever he chooses to go.” He left without another word.

  Doru Albusel gave the women a curt nod, then slipped from the room. The rest of the men filed out without a word, or a glance at them.

  Mikki plopped down into a chair. “What the fuck do we do now, Bryn?’

  Bryndis began rubbing her temples with her palms. “I don’t know,” she sighed.

  “That man is insane,” Sorina said softly.

  “Welcome to our world, Sugah!” Mikki snorted. “Welcome to our world.”

  Bryndis balled her hands into fists so hard, her knuckles cracked.

  Sorina’s eyes flicked from one woman to the next. “As you Americans say, let me buy you a drink.”

  Bryndis and Mikki looked to each other, and then to Sorina and nodded.

  Chapter 19

  Light in Darkness

  Colonel Ernst Kautzer was the quintessential opportunist. If he had a personal standard, it would depict vultures feasting on the corpses strewn across a battlefield, a pack of wolves devouring an unguarded baby, a fistful of gold teeth from gas chamber victims, or something equally repugnant.

  Born the son of a butcher in Munich – a fact that served him well, later in life – Ernst grew up dealing with death on a daily basis. He was a small child living with his family in the working-class section of the Bavarian city when the first war ended. That was when he learned the true meaning of suffering; they all did. It was a miserable existence, and he hated it more than most men fear death.

  If anything good arose from that period of his life, it was knowledge he found most useful. Those desperate times taught him not everyone suffered. Tho
se willing to seize the opportunity to exploit the suffering of others could rise above, and become something more, even great. It all depended on what you were willing to do to achieve your goals.

  Ernst Kautzer would sell the soul of his mother to the Devil to achieve the power he desired. To do otherwise was weakness, and weakness kept you poor, filthy and hungry.

  When he came of age, Ernst joined the Schutzstaffel, believing the SS was destined to become something more than a political security force: a gamble that paid off better than he could have dreamed. A year later, Heinrich Himmler gained control of the SS with a grand vision for the small unit. With Himmler’s plans to turn the floundering group into a supreme weapon, and Kautzer’s willingness to do whatever he could to ensure that outcome, it was as if fate had smiled on the young man.

  During the Purge, Ernst gained notoriety as a ruthless killer, utilizing the skills he learned from his father. The total number that died at his hand was over-estimated, but not by much. The pure truth: Ernst enjoyed cleansing his nation of the weak and worthless more than Hitler did, and he advanced very quickly within the ranks. He was an ambitious, arrogant, vain, cruel man that demanded respect and perfection from those under his command. God help anyone that did not comply, because he had no pity for slackers; they were worse than the dregs the Third Reich were rounding up by the thousands every day.

  The Colonel cringed with every jolt as his driver moved along the snow-covered road. These roads may be suitable hay for wagons or Wehrmacht transports, but definitely not his personal Mercedes. He much preferred the streets of Paris and Berlin.

  The car eased to a stop at a checkpoint, and his driver rolled down the window.

  “Papers!” one of the two young men holding MP-40s said gruffly.

  “Fool! Do you know who this is?” the driver spat. He was a new man, and Ernst had not memorized his name. There was never a need, the man would be gone soon; Ernst never kept a man for more than a month; loyalty was overrated, and familiarity reaped carelessness.