Prime Valkyrie

by Michael-Scott Earle

  The answers to my questions didn’t matter. I was still a few thousand meters from the bottom, and the slope leading down was much too steep to try to walk down. I was going to have to find another route.

  I moved back to the pod and then crawled to the end of the rocky outcropping that halted my craft’s descent. The other side of the slope in this section was just as steep, but there were additional rocky outcrops every few hundred meters. This might be an easier way to get down, but the paracord in my pack wasn’t long enough to reach between the distances.

  Fuck. I was really stuck up here, and a sudden gust of wind reminded me that it was way too cold to be stuck out here for much longer.

  I stepped back into the pod for a bit of warmth. Waiting here wasn’t really an option, but I was losing body heat standing outside. I grabbed the door of the pod and pulled it shut. Then I sat down on the seat pads and tried to figure out how to descend the mountain.

  Then I looked down at the seat and got an idiotic idea.

  The back pad was a little over a meter long. It was some sort of plastic material made to feel like soft leather, and it was attached to a metal backing frame with a series of bolts. I reached down to unscrew one, but the bolt was tightly screwed in.

  I grabbed the dagger one of the assholes who stabbed me with and examined the cross-guard of the blade. The safeguard was set at too much of an angle, but my smaller utility knife had a straight guard, and I set it against one of the bolts. I twisted the knife against the metal, and it unscrewed a tiny amount.

  A few minutes later, and I’d managed to get the bolt loose enough to unscrew with my fingers. The next one was easier, but it still took me about an hour to get them all removed. The pad came away easily, and I flipped it over to look at the back. It was a hardened plastic composite, and it looked like it would be able to slide across the snow or ice just fine.

  I’d never used a sled to go down a hill, but I’ve watched videos on the subject. I knew I could push my heels out into the snow to steer, but I’d never done it before, and my boots were already close to tearing off my feet. I was going to need another way to brake as well , so I used my dagger to drill twin holes in the front corners of the pad. Then I unwound my paracord, threaded it through the holes, and made a single steering loop that I could hold. In theory, I should be able to yank on the rope and use it to steer and brake.

  I glanced down at the other seats and began to unscrew the bolts to the various bottom pads of the seats. When I had removed three, I used more of the paracord to tie them to my spine and elbows. The setup wasn’t very clean, and it might come off if I actually crashed, but I figured a little protection would be better than nothing.

  I looked for anything else I could scrap from the pod, but all the other metal plates, poles, and pieces were attached with clean soldering or tiny screws that I wouldn’t be able to unscrew easily with one of my blades.

  Satisfied I’d done what I could do, I pushed open the pod door and ventured out to the side of the mountain.

  Part of me wanted to just jump on the makeshift sled and plow down the slope, but I wanted to make a bit of a test run before I committed to two thousand meters of downhill sledding. I needed to make sure I could steer and stop this thing, so I walked up the steep hill above the pod for a good fifty meters. The walk was tough because my feet kept sinking into the snow, and the angle was too steep, but I quickly figured out how to crawl up the slope while I held the paracord in my teeth.

  “Alright, here it goes,” I said to the wind as I tried to place the sled so it was pointing at the back side of the pod. Then I set my ass on the pad, put my boots up to the front, and let the thing slide down the snow. I pulled up on the paracord after ten or so meters, and the sled slowed before it hit the side of the pod. It hadn’t slowed much, but it was a controlled slide.

  I wasn't ready to go down the mountain yet. To test the steering, I climbed back up the hill and aimed my sled so it would pass on the right side of the pod and angle down the main flow of the mountain.

  I jumped on the sled and let it travel for a few seconds, then I tugged on the right side of the rope while I leaned and managed to steer it over to the pod. Once my angle was correct, I pulled on both sides of the cord and slowed it down enough to keep me from face planting into the metal craft.

  This was probably as good as it was going to get.

  I took a few deep breaths to steady my nerves and then walked sideways so that I was a good ten meters to the right of the rocks and pod. The view down the slope made my stomach churn a bit. There weren’t as many rock formations jutting out of the snow, but there was still half a dozen, and I’d have to steer around all of them while controlling my speed. How fast would I end up going on this thing? The section ahead of me didn’t seem to have any more cliffs or vertical drops, but I wouldn’t be able to see something like that until I was right on top of it.

  Even if I had some ice axes, it would take me all day to get down. I couldn’t tell exactly what time in the day it was since the sky was gray, but I couldn’t stay up here any longer.

  I set the sled down and then jumped on it without another thought.

  The pad began to slide downhill, and I reactively pulled on the paracord to slow myself. It worked for about fifteen seconds, but then the sled started to pick up too much speed, and I felt the cord stretch in my hands as I yanked, but I was sliding too fast for it to make much of a difference.

  I cut through the snow like a bullet, and the cold wind stung my eyes. There was a mass of black rocks jutting out of the snow down ahead of me, and I was going to hit them if I didn’t turn. I yanked on the cord and leaned left to steer the sled away, but I pulled a little too hard, and the sled twisted on its side.

  “Shit!” I growled as I tried to twist the pad back so that it was facing downhill. I yanked hard with my right hand while I leaned back, and the sled shifted so it was facing back down again. But now I’d closed a lot of distance between the boulders and myself, and I was running out of time.

  I shifted right to continue the motion that had straightened out my sled, and I pulled only slightly on the steering cord. The sled responded smoother this time, and the pad shifted to point away from the rocks. I passed within a meter of one as I streaked down the slope, and I felt relief flood my stomach.

  I was still going way too fast though, and I pulled left on the cord so I could avoid a distant group of sharp looking boulders. The turn happened as I expected and my makeshift sled steered away from the jagged chunks of rock.

  I noticed that I slowed a bit when I turned, probably because I was yanking on the cords and leaning away from the slope. The motion reminded me of the various videos of skiers. They almost never took a line straight down the mountain. Instead, they carved long smooth lines across the surface of the slope. Maybe they did that to control their speed?

  I pulled on the cord with my left hand a little more and angled the sled, so it was more horizontal across the drop of the mountain. I did start to slow significantly, but I couldn’t continue on this route; there was another rocky ridge a few hundred meters ahead of me.

  I turned right, so I faced down the hill and then continued to pull so that I was cutting across the face again. I was still going pretty fast, but the sled felt completely under my control now, and I was able to have way more time to figure out how to approach the rocky boulders.

  I didn’t know how long it took me to get down the mountain on the makeshift sled, but my arms, back, neck, and legs were sore by the time I made it to where the snow met with the rock garden at the foot of the mountain.

  My stop was a bit less than perfect, and I ended up not being able to slow down before the snow line. I bailed before the sled hit the rocks, and rolled through the snow. I wasn’t injured from the tumble though, and I got to my feet with a long exhale.

  “Well, that went better than I guessed,” I said to the wind as I looked up the mountain. It was still cold down here, and there wasn’t any tre
e cover for what seemed like another five kilometers of rough rocks.

  I removed the pads from my body and then tied them together with the sled. I wouldn’t need it anymore for snow, but the pad was going to be way more comfortable to sleep on than the ground.

  And I was going to be spending a fuck load of nights on the ground.

  I continued my way down the long expanse of rocky terrain. The stones here were all a bit bigger than bowling balls, sharp on at least two of the edges, and shifted under my weight when I stepped on them. The ties I made for my boots got cut off after about a thousand meters of walking, and I used some of the rope to try to tie the sole to the body of the boots again. The paracord was a bit too thick though, and these new straps got chewed up in another five hundred meters.

  I didn’t want to use more of the leather from my jacket, so I tried using the paracord again, but this time I used drilled holes in the sole with the dagger before I pushed the cord through them. This potentially allowed only a bit of the rope to touch the rocks, and I was able to make it to the tree line without having to work on them again.

  The trees here were stout looking pines, and they provided a bit of cover from the cold wind. The sky was still gray, so I couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, but it did feel as if it was getting a bit darker, and I estimated I would only have a few more hours before nightfall. I would need to find something for shelter while getting enough wood to start a campfire.

  Fortunately, there were plenty of needles, twigs, and branches on the ground. Most of it was wet from the snow, but I was able to find dry pieces by kicking over the wet leaves and digging underneath. Soon I had a sizable stack of wood cradled in my left arm.

  “Now I have to find shelter,” I said to the trees, but as soon as I spoke, there was a beep over my head, and I looked up to see the observer drone floating above me. It blinked at me with its single red eye, and I raised the middle finger of my right hand in salute.

  I continued through the forest while I looked for anything which could give me a shelter from the wind. I found a fallen tree with part of its trunk eaten out with rot, but it didn’t have much of a roof, so I kept walking. I soon came to a shallow ravine that dropped some four meters down into a creek bed. The water was mostly frozen, but there was a bit of water flow to it, and I went down to get a drink.

  The water smelled fine to my sensitive nose, but it chilled my stomach when I drank from it and caused me to start shaking. It was just too fucking cold, so I grabbed the waterskin from my bag to drink from instead.

  I held it up to my lips and had almost taken a drink, but then I pulled it down from my mouth and sighed. It probably wasn’t poisoned, but I didn’t want to risk it. I poured the stuff out on the ground and then went to work rinsing the skin out in the stream. I really didn’t have a lot of time to waste on activities that weren’t finding a shelter, but I also needed water.

  After the twelfth rinse, I felt more confident that any potential poison had been flushed out and filled up my waterskin again. I took another few sips, sighed when the chill hit my stomach, and then picked up my bundle of firewood.

  I climbed up the other side of the creek’s ravine and then continued in the direction of the checkpoint. It could have been the water, but the brisk walk wasn’t warming my body, and the sky was beginning to get darker. Either night was coming, or there was a storm brewing. Regardless, I didn’t want to be without shelter for much longer.

  The trees were growing a bit denser, but I didn’t hear any birds or sounds of animals. I told myself it was probably too cold, but I also checked behind me periodically to make sure that nothing was stalking me.

  I didn’t see anything in the forest of trees, and I didn’t smell anything besides the scent of tree sap, pine needles, snow, and wet dirt.

  I was already moving at a good walking pace, but I felt like something was watching me, so I picked up my tempo a bit. Another hour of power-walking passed, and the feeling of uneasiness faded a bit. I had reached the top of an incline, and I carefully descended the five-meter tall face of wet dirt, roots, and rocks before reassessing my surroundings. There was a massive tree at the bottom of the slope, and the center of it had been hollowed out by what looked like a lightning strike. The giant pine was still standing despite its grievous wound, and there was about a meter and half of space inside where I could take cover from the wind and cold.

  I dumped my bundle of firewood down and pulled some of the softer tinder material I had collected out of my pocket. It took a single strike for a spark to catch, and I soon had a small fire a half a meter from the opening of the tree.

  I roamed from the campsite a bit and grabbed more firewood. It was pretty easy to gather because the forest was thick, and I has soon stacked five new piles of wood in a circle around my tree. It was probably overkill, but I kept thinking about the stuffed uinu-bair in Madalena’s waiting room. My campfire might be enough to keep any creatures away, but I liked the idea of an extra perimeter of fires that would help me see hostiles sooner.

  The weather was growing colder, but the work of building the fires had warmed me. I didn’t want to have to go looking for more wood in the middle of the night, so I roamed out of the camp circle again to collect more wood. I had to stray a bit farther for each armful of fuel, and the chill was starting to seep into my bones.

  After I’d stacked wood near each of the six fires, I made a final journey out and toward one of the low hanging tree branches. This species looked similar to a holly tree, and its limbs were straight. I found one that had broken off in a storm, tested the flexibility of it, and then hauled it back to the campsite. It was a little shorter than me in length, but it would make a good spear once I removed the offshoots and made a point.

  The first fire I made already heated the inside of the tree cavity, and I let out a long sigh when I sat down in the warmth. I was still pissed off about my current situation, but at least I wasn’t chilled.

  For now.

  I’d have to move again tomorrow and would have to find a new camping spot for the night. I glanced down at the tracking device on my wrist and fought against a growl. I’d only made it seven or so kilometers. Granted, I wasted a bunch of time with fixing my boots and cleaning out my water skin, but I was going to need to move faster.

  My stomach growled, and I remembered the food in my pack. I pulled out one of the foil wrapped packages, pinched the side, and then tore it open. I almost took a bite before I remembered the water in my waterskin. Damn. I was hungry, but I didn’t trust the food those fuckers gave me. I sighed and then tossed the opened package on the ground next to the fire. Then I pulled out the other ones and threw them next to the first.

  I should have taken Madalena’s advice and eaten more of the food. It was going to take a ton of energy to travel across this tundra, and my body would burn even more calories keeping me warm.

  I grabbed the branch I intended to use as a spear and went to work on the small offshoot parts with my utility knife. I threw all the discards in the camp fire as soon as the shaft was cleaned, and I proceeded to work on the tip.

  Then I heard the growl.

  It sounded far away, but it was a cross between an alligator's rasp and a lion’s roar. I had no hair on my body, but I felt goose bumps pop up on the back of my neck.

  Then I heard another growl, and this one sounded a lot closer.

  “Shit,” I said as I stood with my half made spear in my hand. My sensitive eyes couldn’t see any movement from the trees, but then I heard the third growl, and it sounded like it was coming from the top of the hill behind the tree.

  I spun around and looked up the slope. There was little light beside my ring of campfires, but I did see movement on top of the ridge there. I half expected to see a massive uiun-bair, but the creature looked kind of like a wolf, or at least, it had the outline that reminded me of a large dog.

  The creature turned its head down the hill to look at me, and its eyes reflected the red glow of the
campfire. Then it let out a low reptilian-sounding growl, and I heard it echo from four other locations. They sounded like they had my campfire surrounded.

  The drone floating above me beeped a few moments before the creature on the hill charged the ring of campfires.

  Chapter 6

  The creature tore down the hill with a few leaps then skirted my campfire. As it came into the circle of light, I saw that it looked kind of like an armadillo, only in a wolf-like shape. It had a long, wide mouth and hungry eyes that were fixed on me.

  The eyes exploded out of its skull when I smashed it with my long spear.

  The impact was hard enough to snap my piece of wood, and the creature stumbled crossways across the ground before it tumbled. I knew it was dead, but its six legs were still twitching, and its tail curled up like an armored snake.

  I spun around and saw another one of the armadillo-wolves plunge into my camp. These creatures gave zero fucks about the fire, and I guessed they were either really ravenous or smart enough to know that the flame wouldn’t hurt them if they didn’t touch it.

  Maybe they were both smart and hungry.

  I dove toward the tree as the monster jumped at me. Its jaws made a snapping sound as it tried to bite my leg, but I somersaulted on my shoulder, and it missed me.

  I brought the half length of wood back around and tried to smack it in the head, but the creature seemed to understand my intent, and it ducked back so he was out of range of my swing. Then he darted forward and tried to snap at my exposed leg. He didn’t realize how fast I was though, and I brought the stick back around to hit him before his jaws could close around my knee.

  The armadillo-wolf let out a yelp of pain when I hit him, but I didn’t feel any bones crack with the impact. If anything, the fucker seemed even more pissed off than he was before, and he hissed at me as he paced around to my left side.