There had been a fissure in the rock beside the blocked-up cave entrance, a kind of fold as if the rock had been creased by some giant hand. Rose quickly, as quietly as she could, backed up, feeling behind her as she went. As the approaching light brightened, her hand fell into the gap and she pressed herself in.
The gap was narrow, but she forced her way. The leg of her jeans snagged on a sharp protuberance, but she drove herself against it, pushing deeper in, ignoring the cold rock against her flesh, the knife Cameron had given her gripped tightly in one hand. Her heart beat so hard it filled her ears, slammed against the inside of her chest. She drew breath as quietly as she could, but the rock closed her in, stopped her lungs from expanding. She fought against panic, trying not to hyperventilate.
The scuffing shoes came nearer, the light ridiculously bright now. Was she far enough in to be hidden from view?
Landvik appeared around the shallow bend, his face a mask of fury in the stark light from a small penlight torch. He grunted a sound of annoyance as his light splashed on the blocked dead end. He shined it around, looked up and down, and scanned the ceiling above. He muttered something in Norwegian that sounded almost certainly like a curse and turned, took a few steps back the way he had come.
Trembling from nerves and the cold, Rose was about to release a quiet sigh of relief when Landvik stopped, then turned back.
Chapter 55
Crowley pulled himself into the small space, a seemingly prefect cube hewn from the rock. In an alcove on the far wall, a second, miniature cube, sat a hammer.
He shook his head, staring in wonder. Even with everything else they had uncovered, Crowley had never really believed they would find Mjolnir, Thor’s Hammer, but this had to be it. It seemed to glow slightly, or was that just his phone’s light reflecting off the impossibly silver surface?
The hammer had a rectangular head, on which it stood, about the size of a shoebox. The metal seemed almost unearthly, silver, but not silver. Like an alloy, perhaps, with a smoothness like aluminum, but a brightness like diamonds. The haft of the thing, made from the same metal as the head, stood straight up from it, maybe half a meter long, a little thicker than a broom handle. Crumbled bits of old leather strapping lay across the hammer head and around it on the stone shelf.
Norse runes surrounded the square alcove, two rows all the way around like a double frame around a painting. The inside set of runes were inlaid with silver, the outer ring just carved into the stone. Around those was a convoluted carved pattern, twining lines and stylized animals. Crowley flicked up his camera app and took a series of quick photos, showing the hammer in place, then closer up, moving the camera around it from several angles. He made sure the runes were clear in the shots.
As he got closer he saw there were runes and sigils on the surface of the hammer head too, though not carved. More like laser etchings he had seen, but how was that even possible? He laughed softly. How was any of this possible?
He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then slowly let it out as he reached for the hammer’s haft. As his cold fingers and palm closed around it, an electric spark pulsed into his flesh and he whipped his hand away with a quiet yelp. He had knocked it slightly sideways as he pulled his hand back and thought he had seen sparks flicker underneath it. It had shocked him! What the hell could this thing be made from that it could generate such static electricity? Or store it?
He had noted before the dry air in the passageway behind the wall he had knocked down. It seemed only more so here, tinder dry, which was incredibly weird for a subterranean cavern so near the ocean in northern England.
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wrapped it around the handle, careful not to touch the metal, and picked Mjolnir up. He had braced for the weight, thinking he would probably need both hands given its size, but it was light, like aluminum. He gently drew one edge of the hammer head across the stone and watched incandescent blue and purple sparks flicker and dance around it. The glow he had thought he saw before was more in evidence now, not unlike a kind of phosphorescence like krill in the ocean. The thing hummed slightly in his grip. He couldn’t hear a sound, but felt it buzzing ever so gently against his palm.
Curious of its potential power, he drew it up a few inches and struck down against the edge of the alcove where the hammer had rested. A flash momentarily blinded him and the stone shattered, sending up a spray of fine particles. Crowley grunted in shock, blinking the rock dust from his eyes as his vision slowly returned to normal. “This thing can literally store energy,” he whispered to himself, keen to hear the sound of his own voice for some measure of sanity in the suddenly bizarre situation in which he found himself.
He lifted the hammer. Is this truly Mjolnir? Enraptured, he started at the sound of a distant cry, and then the unmistakable crack and echo of a gunshot.
Chapter 56
Crowley doused his light and moved back toward the small exit from the hammer’s secret chamber. There was the short, narrow crawl, then the tunnel with the carvings that would eventually lead him back over the broken down wall and all the way back to the main chamber. He crouched at the small exit tunnel, straining to hear something, anything, but no further sound was forthcoming.
With a shake of the head, he prepared to crawl back through, hoping he wouldn’t find anything distressing when he finally made it back to the cavern. But given they were unarmed and he had most definitely heard a gunshot, it did not bode well. He scrambled back from the small tunnel as light danced around on the walls near the carvings of the Norse gods. Someone was coming. He moved to one side, still on his knees, and peered carefully out. His view was restricted by the three or four meters of narrow passage, but he saw a glimmer of light, bobbing as whoever carried it walked briskly along. Probably a flashlight, Crowley thought, or even a phone light like he had been using. Bloody stupid of this person to not realize the light would be a beacon signaling his position and approach. But Crowley was glad for the man’s idiocy. It gave him a moment to plan.
But plan what? He was in a perfectly empty cube of rock, trapped behind the narrow throat of the square passageway out. There was nowhere at all to hide. And as soon as that goon spotted anything, he would start shooting.
Levi paused to shine his penlight over the impressive carvings on either side of the tunnel. He had never seen anything like them. This place had some pretty amazing secrets to give up, but he had really had enough. Running around like fools, chasing after this fabled artifact. He tried to be a believer, tried to take the word of Halvdan Landvik for truth, but it all sounded faintly insane to his ears. The sooner this particular escapade was over the better.
The passage ended in a tiny square opening, maybe a meter across. Great, more crawling around. He was tempted to forget it, go back and claim he had found nothing. But if somehow Mr. Landvik learned he had left any corner unexplored, well, Landvik would kill him. It was as simple as that.
He dropped down, put his penlight between his teeth and crawled forward on one hand and two knees, holding his pistol out in front of his face. He realized this particular tight passage was only a few meters long and then seemed to open out into a small room. He paused, took his light in hand and shined it left and right, leaning and craning his neck to see in. He couldn’t see it all, would have to go all the way in and check. With a sigh he returned the light to his mouth and scrambled forward the last few feet.