Hammer of the Gods

by B. D. MacCallum

  Ernst should know; he used both to murder his predecessor to obtain his current position.

  “I don’t care who he is,” the guard said raising the muzzle. “No one gets by without orders.” The other solder, a sergeant, positioned himself in front of the car and pointed his weapon directly at the Colonel.

  Ernst smiled as he reached inside his coat to retrieve his travel orders. These men had done their duty to the letter, no wasted movement, no wasted time, no fear in their eyes. Their gun bolts had been placed into firing position prior to the car reaching the gate, and the sergeant’s hand hovered near the detonator that would trigger the explosive buried in the road beneath the car.

  Admirable! Ernst would demand no less from his own men.

  The Colonel passed his papers to the driver, who in turn handed them over to the guard.

  The soldier’s eyes widened and he snapped a smart salute, “Colonel Kautzer, my apologies, sir. Heil Hitler!” He passed the papers back to the driver quickly.

  The Colonel returned the salute. “No need to apologize for doing your duty, solder.”

  The young man rushed to lift the gate, and the sergeant lowered the machine pistol and moved his hand away from the trigger, which made Ernst happy; he was rather fond of this car.

  The sky had grown dark by the time the car stopped in front of the commandant’s quarters. Ernst cringed at the sight of the rough-plank structure and rows of tents; they were a waste. There was a village two miles back with a spacious inn. Why not take the village – shoot the occupants if you had to – and live like a human?

  Of his many hates, Ernst hated waste above all, and at the moment, he was wasting his time; an insufferable crime. He should be back in Paris, procuring more art for his personal collection. After all, the war would not last forever. If the Third Reich won, he would be given a much higher position. If not, he could still live comfortably on the spoils of war; preferably someplace warm.

  The colonel emerged from the backseat to the mud puddle beside the car. He was annoyed, but nowhere near as annoyed as his driver would be later, while he cleaned mud from boots instead of sleeping. The nearly full-moon caught his eye, making Ernst grumble. This would be a fine evening to have a good meal, and a pretty French whore to share his bed, not to be in the middle of nowhere to find out why the resistance had not been crushed.

  The colonel did not return the salute given by the guards outside the commandant’s quarters, nor did he wait for either of them to open the door; he did that himself, flinging it back to slam against the wall as he entered.

  There was as much surprise in the man’s eyes behind the small desk in the sparsely furnished room, as Ernst felt at seeing Helmut Burkholtz. Colonel Helmut Burkholtz, Ernst noted quickly; a new rank, despite the man’s many failures. The Führer must truly be desperate to make that appointment. Perhaps this war was going more poorly than Ernst had observed.

  “Ah, Heir Oberst Kautzer, do come in, and make yourself welcome,” Burkholtz said, recovering quickly. He really was a detestable man that had his wife’s family to thank for not dying in front of a firing-squad… so far. From what Ernst understood, Burkholtz’s failure in Iceland a year and a half ago nearly accomplished that. Himmler was so furious over losing some book, he wanted to pull the trigger himself.

  “What are you doing here, Burkholtz?” Ernst snapped.

  The other man actually had the nerve to smile, with teeth that bad, it was not recommended. “My operation doesn’t concern the Schutzstaffel; this matter is for the Ahnenerbe alone.”

  Ernst filled with rage. Did Burkholtz actually believe that runic-inscribed ring on his left hand could keep him from being shot? “I could make you disappear with a phone call.”

  “One time perhaps,” Burkholtz said. “Not now; I’m on the verge of winning the war!”

  Ernst snorted. “This war will be won with men and weapons, not silly superstitions. Your men would be more useful at the eastern front, not playing make-believe.”

  “My men are doing important work. I will harness more power than you could ever imagine with that feeble mind of yours.” Burkholtz smiled cruelly. “And when I do, this war will be over in weeks, not months or years. The Thousand Year Plan is nothing! I can guarantee the world under Third Reich rule for eternity!”

  This was worse than Ernst thought; Burkholtz was not delusional, he was completely mad. It seems Himmler’s obsession with ancient lore was affecting his judgment, otherwise Burkholtz would have been institutionalized, not promoted.

  Ernst stared into the other man’s eyes. “You are not fit for command, so I will, until a replacement arrives. The Führer demands answers for the loss of two thousand soldiers. He –”

  Ernst cut off as the sound of gun fire erupted from outside.

  The two men ran from the shack into the darkness.

  The far end of the camp was ablaze with gun fire and exploding grenades. There was a deafening roar followed by screams and more gun fire. Men rushed forward into the fray, but the smoke was too thick to tell how well they were doing. The sound of a howl split the air, and the ground erupted, sending a spray of earth and bodies flying.

  The sky soon glowed as the tents went up in flames. A helmet flew from the violence, bounced several times, and rolled past the two colonels. What remained of the face inside was bone-deep gashes and mangled flesh. A moment later, what men not running away, were retreating as they fired into the smoke. There was another deafening howl, and the bodies of soldiers flew, mangled and torn. Ernst stared in disbelief. These were men of the Waffen SS: The Third Reich’s best, and they were losing!

  Ernst grasped Burkholtz by the front of his tunic. “What in God’s name…” was all he could manage.

  “That is your silly superstition!” Burkholtz snapped, his face showing the panic that Ernst felt.

  Ernst ran to the car, throwing himself into the back seat. “Drive!” he screamed to the man behind the wheel.

  Burkholtz was on the running board, trying to enter as the car rolled away. Ernst shot him in the face with his luger, and closed the door as Burkholtz’s body fell. That fool was ultimately responsible for this mess; the least he could do was die with his men.

  “Faster, you idiot!” the colonel screamed as he looked through back window.

  The driver lost control, and the car skidded off the road. The car rolled into a ravine, throwing Ernst from the backseat, before coming to rest near a small steam in a twisted heap.

  The colonel awoke, covered in snow and bleeding from his right temple. He had no idea how long he lay unconscious, but it was silent now, and the moon was high overhead. His eyes turned to the wreckage. The driver lay face up, blank eyes staring at the black sky, and the trunk of a broken sapling protruding from his chest.

  It was nearly time for a new driver, anyway. The disheartening thing was, now he needed a new car as well.

  Ernst began the climb up the slope to the road. He did not relish the two-mile walk to the village, but going back to the camp tonight was out of the question. He would come back, of course. This time, it would be with a full armored division.

  Ernst took four steps when he heard the sound of crunching snow behind him. He turned quickly, raising the muzzle of his pistol.

  He never saw what removed his head from his shoulders.

  * * *

  Thor awoke feeling completely exhausted. He felt as if he ran a marathon with fifty-pound weights strapped to his ankles and wrists. He stretched as best he could with one of Mio’s paws and head crushing his chest. If that dog keeps this up, he’s going to end up rupturing my spleen, if not smothering me in my sleep.

  The dog’s head shot up, those sharp eyes darting, and nose sniffing the air. Thor scratched his muzzle, receiving a face-full of slobber in return as Mio licked him.

  A line of silver in the gap between the faded red-velvet drapes announced the arrival of the dawn. The warmth of the room and crackling fire in the fireplace, told him he had slept – i
f could be called that – through someone attending it all night. A woman, Thor decided at once; pretty, with a fistful of goodies, or the noise Mio would have made would have woken the dead.

  It was a restless night, witnessing a thousand years-worth of history through dozens of pairs of eyes. During the night Thor had been men, women and even children; all victims of this thing. He never actually saw it, but he could sense it, feel its rage just as he could earlier in the day.

  The last part of the dream was the most disturbing. Until Nineteen-forty-one, it killed indiscriminately; someone had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then, three months before the night Thor witnessed, it began to hunt its prey. Thor could feel the rage and contempt the creature had for the men hunting it. It had been a monster before, but now, it was a monster on a mission.

  What kind of world would this be if Burkholtz had succeeded? The thought made Thor shudder.

  Thor knew the dreams were meant to teach him, and they did; though he could not shake the feeling he missed the most important lesson.

  The thought of facing something that overpowered three thousand highly-trained, heavily-armed soldiers in minutes, scared him a bit; but Thor suspected, once he learned the lesson he missed, he would be unstoppable. Maybe that’s just ignorance, arrogance, or sheer stupidity talking!

  He prayed to the Gods, that was not the case.

  Thor struggled to get to his feet. He threw on yesterday’s jeans and opened the door to his room. Mio rushed by, then loped ahead, looking back every few steps to make sure Thor was following. The pair passed by two women that gawked as if they had never seen a shirtless, barefooted man with a Clydesdale-sized dog before.

  They wound their way down passages and stairs, passing a middle-age woman that gave Thor an approving smile as he rushed by.

  Thor opened the main door, watching as Mio ran to catch up to a small pack of mixed-breeds. After the customary sniffing, the dogs accepted Mio as one of their own. Mio glanced at Thor, as if asking to go with them, and Thor shooed him off with a gesture. Thor stood in the doorway, the air biting his bare skin, until Mio and the other dogs disappeared behind a small building. The great lummox would be back for his breakfast, after marking every tree in sight first. Until then, it would be great to take a few paces, without tripping over the lumbering beast.

  “When my grandmother told you to make yourself at home, I don’t think she meant for you to run around exposing yourself,” Sorina said behind him.

  Thor closed the door, then turned to meet those cold brown eyes. He smiled quickly, noticing the silver combs holding her hair back; it was a good look for her, showing off the angle of her high cheekbones, magnificently. “People will always find things to talk about. I can’t think of a better subject than me, can you?” He chuckled inside as her face turned red with anger. “By the way, you look very pretty this morning!” He walked away as she gritted her teeth.

  He was surprised to find the bath water was hot. He preferred to shower, but was grateful his room had running water at all – though he could imagine a team of peasants pumping the water from a boiling cauldron somewhere in the bowels of the castle to his room by hand. His mind raced as he soaked, going over the dream again and again. What the Hel did he miss? After shaving, he stared in the mirror, searching for answers that were just out of reach.

  He dressed quickly, making sure the lighter was inside his boot and cigars tucked into his Irvin flight jacket before leaving his room. Bryndis had yet to discover those hiding spots… as far as he knew, at least. A nine millimeter Beretta was tucked into the small of his back, and the rifle slung over one shoulder before closing the door behind him.

  Thor had thoughts of breakfast; his stomach growled loud enough to be heard from the next room. He chuckled, remembering Selucca’s words. He was not feeling starved, but damned close to it! This was going to be a very busy day, and he needed to keep up his strength. Who knew when his next meal would be; or if he would get the chance to have a next meal?

  The dining room was buzzing like a hornet’s nest that had just been hit with a baseball bat; obviously, his decision to hunt the creature down before it attacked was not a popular one. Nwabudike and Doru Albusel were making notations on the map spread out on the table, frowning and grumbling. The men huddled around them were grumbling as well, and sharing grim expressions that grew dimmer as they noticed Thor entering. No one mentioned how idiotic they thought he was, yet… but it was early.

  He could not blame Selucca’s men; they had been dealing with this nightmare their entire lives. As far as they were concerned, Thor had just signed their death warrants and delivered them to the executioner.

  Nwabudike glanced at Thor as he entered the room, frustration filling the man’s dark eyes. He gave Thor a curt nod, then turned his attention back to the map.

  I knew you would eventually see the sense of this plan. Though it really did not matter if anyone agreed with it or not. It was his plan, and he would stick to it, no matter what happened. Who knows? They could get lucky, and catch this thing sleeping. It does sleep… Doesn’t it?

  Deep inside, Thor was willing this to be the right decision; not second-guessing himself was not getting easier!

  Judging by their appearance, Bryndis and Mikki seemed to have the impression they were coming along; both were wearing the same camouflage CCUs and gun belts the men wore, Mikki had the added benefit of a pair of long knives strapped to her calves. They were wrong, of course; neither would be joining the hunting parties, even if it meant shooting both of them in the thigh to assure that fact.

  It was strange to see Bryndis dressed so – especially the heavy boots – even if she did make it look sexy, but that woman could make a burlap sack look sexy, if she wanted to. She glared at him over the rim of her tea glass. She and Mikki woke him an hour after he went to bed, just to tell him how stupid he was. Apparently, she had not warmed up to his brilliant plan, yet; not that he really expected her to.

  Mikki, on the other hand, seemed perfectly natural in her current attire; that woman was a true warrior in every sense of the word. She thought he was a total imbecile for wanting to track the goddamned thing down, even if she was the first to agree to follow him, saying she could not let him die alone.

  Thor stood the rifle next to the others leaning against the wall near the side table, amazed at the staggering amount of firepower they had – and more was coming with the rest of the men. Then Thor remembered the last segment of the dream. They had a staggering amount of fire power, too. More! With thousands more soldiers as well, for all the good it did them.

  This will work. It has to! Maybe if he told himself that enough, he could will it to be so.

  Sorina gave him an icy stare as he moved toward the table. That woman is cold enough to freeze a pot of boiling water, by just dipping her finger in it! Perhaps he should not have said she looked pretty this morning; some women do not handle compliments well.

  Selucca greeted him warmly, which seemed to irritate the shit out of Sorina even more.

  Thor hugged the old woman, giving Sorina his best smile. It was intended to thaw some of the permafrost from the gorgeous black-haired woman, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Man, what is that woman’s problem?

  “Ylena tells me, you slept poorly,” Selucca said with a furrowed brow.

  It was difficult to tell if Sorina’s or Bryndis’ ears perked up more at that statement. Of course, Bryndis felt she had the divine right to know a cute girl was in his room last night; she had been doing background checks on every girl Thor smiled at since day-one. Sorina, on the other hand, had no right to look like she was ready to have Ylena tossed from the castle tower.

  Sorina probably considers Ylena some sort of traitor, now. All the poor girl is guilty of is keeping a fire burning through the night. “Well, I did share a bed with a two hundred pound smelly beast that drools.” Thor smiled, giving the old woman a wink.

  “So did your dog,” Sorina quipped.
“But I didn’t hear him complain about it.”

  “Oh, my God!” Mikki shouted over the burst of laughter. “That was beautiful!” She raised her tea glass to Sorina, giving the other woman a nod.

  It was beautiful, he thought, staring into Sorina’s deep-brown eyes. She gave a slight smirk. It may just have been wishful thinking, but he could sense some of the frost melting a bit, maybe. Of course, there was no way to be sure; every time he thought he knew what a woman was thinking, he was wrong.

  He helped Selucca to a chair, piled a plate full of smoked sprats, brown bread with butter, and pickled vegetables, before taking the seat beside her. “Any ideas where to start the search, Nwabudike?”

  The man gave a shrug. “We could search this terrain for years, and come up empty. This was your plan. Where do you think we should search first?”

  Thor sat back in his chair. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the blackness rushing forward; it was getting easier every time he tried. He floated in the sea of darkness for a few moments before feeling the distant pull. Then he concentrated on that feeling.

  It was out there, hiding in the shadows, seething like a boil ready to explode. Thor moved closer. He could hear a heart beating, touch the rage within the creature as if it were a tangible thing. A foul odor assaulted his nostrils, not like meat that had gone bad, more like something that had never been right to begin with.

  The thing reared, lashing out at him, flesh would have been torn from bone – and those bones broken – if Thor had been there physically. Thor could feel the surprise that followed the attack, then the shock of understanding. The tinge of fear grew stronger, followed by a howl of rage that made the previous sensation appear tame. Thor stood his imagined ground, feeling wild eyes searching for its prey in the darkness. Thor concentrated on his surroundings, the air, the wind, the cold and damp… and the sound of howling wind, muffled by thick rock walls.