The arm that had been severed had been cauterized and no blood seeped through any more. Thorlak felt weezy from the loss of blood and knew without his sword arm, Valhalla would most likely not open its doors for him. But he had to try. He could wield a sword left-handed and maybe the Gods would smile on him for fighting against such great odds.
All he could see was the unmoving white-faced monster in front of him, the unblinking red eyes staring at him, and beyond a large cavern, the ceiling and near walls he could see, but the far wall not visible in the dim light.
“Let me have my sword and a brave death,” Thorlak’s words echoed into silence, bringing no response. “You are pigs. Cowards.” His voice sounded weak in such a large space.
There was movement and Thorlak squinted to see. Another Valkyrie floated into view, the bottom of the cloak just a few inches about the rock floor. It was carrying something shiny and large- some sort of package. It placed the package on a stone table twenty feet away and swung up the lid.
Thorlak eyes widened as the creature used it’s right hand to twist off its left arm all the way back to the elbow. It placed the removed appendage on the table and picked up something from the package. Another arm but one that did not end in the clawed hand but rather a single blade eight inches long. The red light reflected off the metal, making it appear as if already tinted with blood.
The Valkyrie turned toward and floated over toward Thorlok, the other one finally moving, getting out of the way. Thorlak searched for more spit, but his mouth was dry. The Valkyrie stopped less than two feet away, the dead red eyes dispassionately regarding him.
“Give me a warrior’s death!” Thorlak screamed.
The left arm, blade on the end came forward. The tip touched him on the breastbone.
“A sword in my hand!” Thorlak begged. “To go to Valhalla!”
Thorlak’s breathing was very shallow- if he took a deep breath the blade would pierce his skin. Sweat was pouring off his forehead, trickling down his naked flesh.
The second Valkyrie reappeared carrying something, a metal band. It reached up and placed the band on top of Thorlak’s head, as if crowning him. He felt small jolts of pain all around the top of his skull. A wire led from the band to a square box the creature held in its hands.
While Thorlak was still puzzling over what the band and box were, the blade at his chest moved forward a fraction of an inch, slicing flesh like a rudder through water, and down his chest to his stomach.
Thorlak bit back his scream, not willing to let his enemies know his pain. He had once seen a captured Saxon lord go through the 'bloody eagle’ without ever uttering a whimper of pain. The Norse torturer had cut through the Saxon’s back, removed several rib bones, then pulled the man’s still breathing lungs out through the hole. They lay on the man’s back, inflating and deflating with each breath like a pair of bloody wings. The Saxon had bit through his lip to keep from screaming in agony and stared defiantly at his tormentors until he died.
If a Saxon pig could do such, Thorlak knew he also ought to be capable of such bravery. The blade sliced left along the bottom of his stomach, then back across to the right. With the other hand, the Valkyrie peeled back the skin along the T shaped incision.
Thorlak thought to his youth, to the hills above the fjord of his village, green with grass and the bright flowers that fought their way to sunlight for the brief summer. A young girl whom he had gone with through the fields to the-
The blade cut along the side of Thorlak’s face, now horizontal to the surface, peeling away the skin in one fine swipe and jerking Thorlak’s mind back to the present.
The blade did the same to other side of the face. Then the scalp, taking care to pass over the metal band. Until Thorlak’s head was nothing but a bleeding skull covered with exposed muscle and ligaments. Still he did not cry out.
Memories would not work. Thorlak forced his mind onto a task. Rowing. He had pulled so many strokes on board Ragnarok’s ship that it was as natural to him as breathing. His hands were on the oars, his muscles straining. Pull. Lift. Push. Down. Pull. Lift. Push. Down. Pull.
The litany got Thorlak’s brain into a rhythm as the Valkyrie continued its ghastly work. It went on until all of Thorlak’s skin- except for the tiny strip under the metal band, was gone. Blood pooled at his feet, mixing with the sweat that had been there and staining the pile of peeled skin.
The Valkyrie paused in its work and simply hovered. Thorlak’s mind was rowing, steady, helping to pull Ragnarok’s ship through the ocean water. The pain was there, but not so close as it was before.
There was a tingling in his head. A very strange feeling. For a few seconds the pain faded even more. The two Valkyries hung in the air, simply watching. Thorlak faltered with the oar in the air. The wood disappeared from his hand. He was back in the cavern.
The pain came back. He gave up. His mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out.
He felt weak, tired. He had been called the Hardy because he could stay awake and row after all others on the ship collapsed, but he knew he could not row much further now. The journey was nearly over. He reached for the oar, wrapping his hands tight around the wood, feeling the comfort of the known.
The blade, now crimson in the red light, came forward once more. Thorlak let go of the oar and surrendered to the darkness.
Chapter 9
Dane was impressed with the efficiency of the Glomar crew. They could snatch a new section of pipe off the wall of the pool, use a crane to pull it up to the top of the derrick, then two men would clip safety lines around the pipe itself and bolt it to the section below while the entire thing was moving down at a steady rate. Just before the pipe went into the water two other man clamped the power, oxygen and communications cables to the side of the pipe, continuously unreeling the cables while making sure there were no snags.
Two hours earlier, Deeplab IV had been attached at the bottom of the very first section of eighteen inch pipe. Lieutenant Sautran had waved once before disappearing into the hatch at the top of the central corridor. The hatch was screwed shut, final checks were made and Deeplab IV disappeared beneath the waves.
As the pipes continued to be connected and push Deeplab IV deeper and deeper, Dane noticing something strange- the thick pipe that extended down from the derrick, was moving up and down very slowly, independent of the ship. It was mesmerizing to watch.
Captain Stanton caught the look and explained. “It gets to you doesn’t it. We have to keep Deeplab stable- can’t have it bobbing like a cork on the end of the pipe. So we use an inertia dampener.” He pointed to where the pipe was clamped between several rollers. “The ship is what is actually moving with the swell- the pipe is staying perfectly still. You should see that when we get rough water. The hydraulics attached to those rollers can move the pipe over thirty feet vertically if necessary. What feels weird is that you think you’re standing still and its moving, but somewhere in your mind your body knows it’s moving.”
Dane’s attention was diverted as a large navy helicopter appeared on the southern horizon, something large slung load below it.
“Deepflight II is arriving,” Ariana said. She turned for the rear of the ship. “Let’s go check it out.”
Dane followed her and Sin Fen across the gantry and through the passageways until they reached the edge of the large helipad. By that time the chopper had arrived, hovering fifty feet above the deck. Dangling below, attached by two cables, was the deep sea submersible.