Eddie helplessly watched her go, then looked back at the cartridge. It was now barely visible within the fire, but still hadn’t exploded — and might never do so. ‘If we leave them alive in here,’ Lock continued, ‘they might find a way out if part of the roof collapses.’
‘I ain’t complainin’,’ said Hoyt. He raised his gun. ‘Okay, Chase! I spent three years in a Vietnamese jail ’cause of you. But now, it’s finally payback time.’
Eddie tensed—
Crack!
The cartridge detonated, kicking up a shower of sparks and burning straw — and the mercenary nearest to Eddie screamed as the .45-calibre bullet tore into the back of his calf.
Everyone whirled to face the unexpected threat—
Eddie sprang up like a runner off the starting blocks and charged across the dais. The mercenaries’ weapons whipped back around to track him, but he had already hurled himself off the platform and dived behind one of the overturned tables.
Hoyt opened fire, his men following suit. Bullets ripped into the thick wood. Eddie shielded his face as splinters stabbed at him — but the 5.7mm rounds from the mercenaries’ P90s struggled to penetrate the dense oak planks. ‘Go around it, get him!’ Lock yelled.
Kagan grabbed Berkeley and hauled him into cover behind a throne as one of Hoyt’s men ran to the table. Eddie searched for anything he could use as a weapon—
He found plenty.
The merc reached the table, ready to shoot the figure hunched behind it — only to find that his quarry was ready for him.
A rusty axe hacked deep into his shin, breaking bone. The man screeched in agony, gun forgotten as his injured leg gave way and he collapsed on to his knees. Eddie yanked the axe back — and struck again, slashing the ancient weapon across his throat. A jet of blood sprayed across the stone floor as the merc toppled, the wound gaping like a second mouth beneath his chin.
‘Jesus fuck!’ Hoyt yelled as Eddie snatched up the dying man’s P90 and ducked back into cover. ‘Take him down, shoot that motherfucker!’
Lock hurriedly retreated from the clamour of automatic fire as the other men opened up on full auto. This time, wood was no match for the onslaught. ‘Shit!’ Eddie yelped as he dropped flat, the old table juddering as ragged chunks were ripped from it. His shelter would only last a couple more seconds—
Another sound filled the room — a deep, dangerous crack from above.
The fire had reached the roof beams. One of them sheared in two with a noise like a shotgun blast, golden shields jolting loose around it and clanging to the stone floor. Earth and stones cascaded down after them, a mercenary reeling as he was struck on the shoulder. Another beam, flames licking hungrily up its length, broke free from the apex of the vaulted ceiling and swung down to pound a bench into matchwood. The shooting stopped as the gunmen scattered.
‘Get out, get out!’ yelled Lock. ‘The whole place is coming down!’
‘What about Chase and the others?’ Hoyt demanded. ‘They’re still alive!’
‘Just make sure nobody gets out the front entrance!’ Covering his mouth and nostrils with his sleeve, Lock ran from the great hall.
Hoyt glared at the table shielding Eddie, then reluctantly followed his boss. ‘Everybody out!’ he shouted, firing a few last rounds to make sure the Englishman didn’t dare raise his head to shoot back. Dragging the wounded man with them, the others hurried after him.
Eddie peered around the table to see the last of the mercenaries leaving the chamber. He jumped up. ‘Kagan! Are you okay?’
The Russian rose from behind the thrones, Berkeley emerging fearfully after him. ‘My shoulder is hurt,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘but I will live.’
‘Not for long if we don’t get out of here.’ Eddie flinched back as a hunk of burning wood dropped from above and smashed on the dais. The smoke was getting thicker, rasping at the back of his throat. ‘Come on.’
‘But they’ll be waiting for us!’ Berkeley objected, before coughing.
‘You want to stay in here?’ Eddie started for the exit — then veered off to recover his Wildey. ‘Not losing this one too,’ he said, on Kagan’s quizzical look. ‘Nina’d never shut up about it.’ He set off again. The Russian collected a flashlight and followed.
‘Wait, wait!’ Berkeley yelped, hurriedly reversing direction.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ demanded Eddie. Another ominous crack and a shower of dirt from above warned him that the roof was about to collapse.
‘My tablet!’ The American picked up the broken computer, shaking out the shards of broken glass.
‘What? It’s buggered!’
‘The screen’s broken — but we can still recover the memory!’ Berkeley replied as he also scooped up the discarded sun compass, then raced after Eddie. ‘It’s got the directions to the site on Baffin Island! They can still be translated.’
Eddie was about to ask him why he cared, but decided there were more important concerns. A clutch of shields clashed to the floor like oversized cymbals as other burning roof beams gave way. He weaved around the wreckage, slowing to let Berkeley catch up. ‘Come on, fucking leg it!’
He looked back — and realised as Berkeley overtook him that he would be the last person ever to see the great hall of Valhalla. Hidden for over a thousand years, destroyed in minutes. The entire chamber was now ablaze as the fire greedily swallowed tinder-dry fuel. Flames rose around the dais, the three thrones and the runestones behind them disappearing into the smoke.
But there was no time for regrets — and besides, he told himself as he turned away, that was Nina’s department, not his. He had tried to keep his promise to Natalia by stopping anyone from ever finding this place, and failed. Now, his only hope was to prevent Lock and Hoyt from escaping with what they had discovered.
And above that, he had to save his wife.
He shoved Berkeley though the doors as a massive splintering crack shook the entire hall. The backbone of the great vaulted ceiling had broken. The roof sagged, shedding a cascade of golden shields into the swelling fires — then the middle of the long room was crushed by a giant hammerblow of falling soil and trees. A searing wind blew smoke and cinders through the doors as Kagan and Eddie struggled to shut them.
They finally closed with a thud. More loud crashes came from inside the hall, shaking the walls. Eddie staggered back, eyes stinging. ‘Bloody hell!’ he said between coughs. ‘Guess the Vikings didn’t have a god of sprinkler systems.’
Kagan groaned as he pulled the wooden shard out of his shoulder. Blood oozed from the tear in his coat. ‘How are we going to get out? They will be watching the gate.’
‘I think I know a way,’ said Eddie. ‘Give me the torch.’ He holstered the Wildey, then, with the P90 in one hand and Kagan’s flashlight in the other, he jogged down the passage and cautiously looked around the corner.
There were no torch beams in sight, and under the circumstances he doubted that any of the mercenaries were lurking in side rooms to ambush them. A quick sweep with his light revealed smoke swirling through cracks in the wall. The stones were not flammable, but the same couldn’t be said about the beams bracing them. ‘Okay, it’s clear.’
He hurried down the long corridor, the others behind him. The smoke thickened as they approached the far end; a section of wall had partially collapsed where falling rubble in the main hall had piled up behind it. ‘My God,’ said Berkeley in dismay. ‘The whole place is going to come down. We’ve lost everything!’
‘Your mates got the only thing they came here for,’ Eddie said, checking the next turn. Again nobody was waiting for them — though there was a glow of daylight coming from the passage leading to the death-gate.