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“Everybody quiet! Listen.” Bones’ voice was as hushed as ever. Something was off in the distance, moaning. It almost sounded like a deep whimper, like someone, or something, was crying.
As the tracks continued to shrink, they became harder and harder to follow. A light dusting began as they moved higher up the mountain too, obscuring the now, man-sized footprints. But instead of relying on only a visual trail, they also had an audible one too.
It had been hours since they started off to the north and Bones had yet to move them off course. Sorensen was headed for something out in the middle of nowhere and Haugen knew it could only be the place where it had all begun. The tomb must’ve been just ahead.
“When we get where we’re going,” Maddock instructed, “Stay back and let us clear the area first.” Haugen went to argue but Maddock stopped him. “I know you’re used to being in charge, but trust us on this, we know what we’re doing.”
Swallowing his pride, Haugen simply nodded and let the two Americans lead the way, watching their backs instead. There were still other predators out there besides Torbjorn Sorensen.
He still couldn’t believe it. The always gentle giant of a man was now a monster from antiquity. What was even scarier than that was there existed something tangible in the world that could cause it. Haugen had seen plenty of science fiction movies over the years and even had the time to sit down and read a couple of books in the genre, but living it was something else entirely.
The Americans were nice enough and treated him with a great deal of respect. It’s another way he knew them to be former soldiers. There was respect between military folk and local law enforcement.
Well, most of the time anyway.
He thought back a few months to a brash, loud-mouthed American tourist he had the displeasure of dealing with before. Like the two men before him, he was clearly military at one point. The visitor’s name didn’t ring any bells, but what he remembered most about him was his foul mouth and obnoxious sense of humor. He claimed to be “passing through” and instead decided to stay a week. It wasn’t even that he was trying to rub anyone the wrong way either, it was just the man’s natural personality. The quiet people of Vikersund couldn’t wait for him to leave. How that pretty, tattooed Frenchwoman put up with such a character he couldn’t fathom.
“Kane...” he mumbled to himself, “that was his name.”
“There’s a clearing up ahead,” Bones said, motioning them forward. “And a body.”
Guns up, the Americans cleared a small opening in the forest, giving the space a thorough 360-degree sweep. But it was easy to see that there was nothing there.
Seeing what was obviously a dead wolf, Bones put his hands on his hips, perplexed. “Huh.”
“What?” Haugen asked, carefully inspected the body.
“The tracks are gone.” He looked up. “The snowfall covered them.”
“We lost him?” Haugen asked, looking up.
“He didn’t say that,” Maddock replied, looking at Bones, “did you?”
Bones turned and grinned. “The big oaf couldn’t have just vanished.” He glanced at Haugen. “No offense... But these trees and bushes also look undisturbed.”
“So, where’d he go?” Haugen asked.
What would I do... Maddock thought, his shoulders perking up some. “Camouflage. He hid his path.”
Quickly, the three men split up and began yanking away and pushing aside every piece of growth they could reach. If necessary, they’d climb the trees and spider monkey around. Just as Maddock was about to, a section off to his right was cleared. He raised his pistol at the sight. An opening just large enough for a grown man to fit through was there and beyond it laid only darkness.
“The moonlight barely reaches,” Haugen said, peeking in.
Maddock clicked on a small flashlight and pointed it up through the opening, finding only tree branches. “Wouldn’t be able to see it from the air either. The problem with that is—”
“Trees don’t grow this way without help,” Bones finished, pointing his own flashlight to the ground. He bent over and took a closer look at the path ahead. “Man-made... Well, I think it’s safe to say we found our tomb entrance.”
“But who made it?”
“That, my friends,” a voice said from behind, “is something I’d also like to know.”
They turned but before they could lift their weapons to fire, a line of bullets tore into the ground just inches in front of their toes. Maddock and Bones both dove to the ground, rolling to make themselves less of a target, aiming their pistols in the direction from which the assault had come.
“Don’t!” The shooter shouted, from behind a large tree trunk. The only thing visible was his weapon and face, an impossible shot to take. “I will kill you and take what’s mine,” they paused their counter assault, “or you can help me retrieve it—”
“And then you’ll kill us anyway,” Bones finished. “We know the drill, buddy. Why should we, huh?”
The newcomer poked his head and rifle out further. Maddock recognized him immediately as the dark-haired stranger. Grinning, his aim shifted to Haugen. He stood alone, dead center in the clearing. “I’ll shoot your friend. He’s innocent in all this, yes? Do you need his death on your conscience?”
Grumbling an incoherent response, Bones’ shoulders sagged a little. Maddock’s, on the other hand, didn’t. “I saw you in town before we were attacked. Who are you?”
The man smiled. “I am Hoor.”
“You’re a what now?” Bones asked.
“Hoor,” Haugen said. “He was one of Odin’s sons.”
“Oh,” Bones said, “a fanatic nutjob, are we?”
Hoor’s icy blue eyes, squinted, angered. “Shall I kill you instead?” His aim switched from Haugen to Bones.
Maddock and Bones would much rather have the guns on them instead of a local. If they died, so be it, but no one else needed to. Plus, Haugen was armed still. Hoor had yet to tell them to drop their weapons.
And I think I know why, Maddock thought, speaking quickly. “I’ll make you a deal.”
Hoor’s eyebrows raised. “A deal?”
“Yes,” Maddock said, holstering his gun, stepping forward and in front of Haugen. “If you agree to let us go, we’ll retrieve what you’re looking for.”
“And what do I seek?” Hoor asked, wanting to see what they knew.
“The origin of the berserker virus.”
Hoor’s eyes opened. “Virus?”
Maddock shrugged. “What else could it be? Since you followed us here, I’m assuming you saw what killed those wolves earlier.”
Hoor nodded. “I did. It was fabulous.”
“Fabulous? That is what you call it?” Haugen asked, shocked at the gunman’s use of the word. “It was evil—nothing more.”
The ghost of a smile played across his face. “I know.”
Maddock and Bones looked at each other. For a hired ScanoGen goon, this guy came across as more of an obsessive psychopath than a simple mercenary.
Bones voiced as much. “You’re going to screw over your employer, aren’t you? You’re here for yourself.”
“Not as stupid as you look. I’ve been searching for clues to this place for a long time, collecting as much information on it as possible. I built a name for myself and stayed in the area with the hopes of eventually being called to it. It just so happens that I was contracted to retrieve exactly that earlier this week.”
“You’re here for Gungnir,” Maddock said.
The only reply he received was a sadistic leer.
The soft moaning they had heard earlier picked up again, coming from somewhere within the manmade pathway. There was no doubt what it was now. Sorensen was sobbing.
Who can blame the guy? Bones thought. “So,” he said, “all you want is the freaking spear and then you’ll leave?”
“Yes,” Hoor replied, “you have my word. I won’t harm any of you.” He fought to hide another smile.
“Fine,” Maddock said, moving to the opening, “we’ll do it. All of us.” The last part was to ensure that Haugen would be along with them. If he could appeal to Sorensen’s human side, maybe, just maybe, they could sway him to help.
With one arm, Maddock coaxed Haugen through the opening in the shrubbery, never once taking his eyes off Hoor. Bones was next and then Maddock himself. He continued backward until they were all out of sight.
Turning, he found Bones and Haugen staring at the ground in front of them. Stepping around the two men, Maddock saw what stalled their retreat.
Blood... A lot of it. A trail of the stuff coated the stone path as far as they could see.
Another wolf?
“Come on,” Maddock said, setting their pace. The three men took off together in a controlled jog, putting as much distance between them and the gun-toting lunatic as they could. They kept their footfalls as quiet as possible and headed straight for the tomb, careful not to slip in the slick layer of crimson.
A few moments later, they stopped and stared again—but not at another kill.
The outside of the tomb was unremarkable in construction but Maddock knew that most crypts hid their valuables within. The outside being bland was actually the best defense against looters. An ordinary structure gave off the same sense of what laid inside. A gorgeous monument almost always guaranteed that riches were hidden within.
Ordinary would be nice, Maddock thought. Please, be ordinary.
But as they crossed the threshold, Maddock knew it was going to be anything but normal. They were about to explore an ancient tomb, which probably hid a virus that could make someone go berserk, not to mention a creature that had just obliterated an entire pack of wolves without so much as breaking a sweat.
All right, let’s get this done.
––––––––
Hoor didn’t trust the Americans, and as soon as they disappeared from sight, he quietly pursued them. He went to enter the stone path but was stopped by something buzzing in his pocket. The high-tech GPS unit was sent along with his instructions and would track his exact location within a few yards of where he stood. Conveniently, it also doubled as a communication device which was extremely helpful when out in the wilderness.
Looking down at the screen, he sneered when he read the message.
Failure to report. Specialists inbound. ETA 30 minutes.
Cursing himself, Hoor knew he’d taken too long to track the men. But he had no choice. If he’d gone ahead of them and run into the berserker or even the wolves, he’d already be dead. Even with ScanoGen not knowing his own personal goals, there was no way of acquiring his prize before they arrived. Rushing into a tomb populated by a police officer, two former soldiers, and a monster, wasn’t the smartest thing to do.
Hopefully, they’ll kill each other and I can walk in and take it.
He started a timer on his watch and set it to twenty-five minutes. He needed to be gone by then. If not, he’d have to figure out a way to ditch the incoming six-man team and make off with the spear.
He looked up from his watch and visualized the tomb, smiling as he did. Maybe there was another way to rid him of everyone. He could just sit by and wait for the specialists to arrive. They’d go in guns blazing and kill everyone, except maybe the beast. Hoor knew it wouldn’t die so easily. He recalled an excerpt describing the berserkers from memory. It was written almost 800 years ago by an Icelandic historian named, Snorri Sturluson.
“His men rushed forward without armor, were as mad as dogs or wolves, bit their shields, and were strong as bears or wild oxen, and killed people at a blow, but neither fire nor iron told upon them. This was called Berserkergang.”
Hoor wanted to be one of them. He needed to be one of them. It was his calling—his destiny. The meek boy, Julian, would finally become a god in the flesh. Then, he would create an army of his own and set out into the world around him.