“I can’t see Sala,” Lea said.
Hawke peered through the porthole. “No, but judging by the green glow coming from that tunnel over there it’s pretty obvious where he’s gone. Let’s get moving.”
Hawke unscrewed the hatch and they clambered out of the mini sub and dropped down onto the shore of the underwater lake. They were at least a hundred yards from the Migaloo and hidden behind a stalagmite-covered ledge protruding from the cave wall, so Hawke considered it safe to fire up a glow stick.
They stuck together as they moved deeper into the complex, and if this place really was Valhalla, the Hall of the Slain, then it was greater than any of them could ever have imagined in their wildest dreams. Despite it having slid beneath the ocean floor, its construction from the interior of the cliff cave was still obvious, and most of the impressive structure had maintained its integrity.
They made their way along the tunnel in which they had seen the radiance of Sala’s glow sticks. At the end of it there was still no sign of the Andorran, or Smets, but they were now face to face with the deepest cave hole Hawke had ever seen.
He was staring at an enormous gorge complete with not one but two powerful underground waterfalls. Towering above them was a cave hall hundreds of feet high, its ceiling adorned with monstrous stalactites which twisted and pointed to the ground like melted fingers.
Lea was amazed. “This is more than a cave system, Joe — this is a bloody underground canyon!”
“Look!” Ryan cried. “A bridge!”
They made their way across the bridge — a rickety affair which was strung across the gorge hundreds of feet high between two ledges carved into the side of the towering cave hall.
From here they moved through a short second tunnel at the end of which their short journey came to an end.
They had reached Valhalla.
From their elevated position at the tunnel mouth, they were able to look down at the legendary location from on-high, and what they saw stunned each of them into silence.
They were looking at what had once been an opulent hall, with ornate architecture stretching from a marble floor all the way to a vaulted ceiling covered in intricate frescos portraying gods and goddesses. All around the room were doors and archways leading to separate tunnels, and with no sign of the enemy, they presumed Sala must have disappeared into one of them.
It was more beautiful than any of them had imagined but the entire place was disjointed, broken into two by the force of the landslide which had sent it tumbling into the freezing embrace of the Arctic Ocean. It was as if an enormous step had been designed into the middle of the main hall, or it had suffered a massive earthquake. Now, what had once been the most sacred place of the Norse gods resembled the wreck of the Titanic and a sense of broken, sad decay settled over everything like dust.
Despite that feeling, Hawke knew they had finally hit the jackpot.
Everywhere they looked they saw treasure far beyond anything they had ever seen before, up to and including the vault of Poseidon and the tomb of the Thunder God. Towering golden idols of gods and goddesses none of them recognized, piles of silver and gold jewellery — goblets, plates, knives, and countless weapons — shields, swords and axes.
“A veritable shimmering golden hoard!” Victoria said, her eyes sparkling like twin diamonds.
“This place is something else,” Lea said, her voice trailing into the distant darkness. Crowning it all were the very walls themselves which sparkled and shone golden in their flashlights. “Are those walls made of gold?”
“They’re made of golden shields,” Ryan said, shining his torch on them and then up to the ceiling. “The Skáldskaparmál, the ancient dialogue between the Norse god of the sea Aegir and Bragi, the poetry god, said that when the gods gathered here the light from their swords would illuminate the feast, reflecting off the golden walls.”
Hawke swept his flashlight over the vast hall as the others began to explore among the piles of treasure. He could hardly believe what she was seeing — what had started off as an investigation into a murder had turned into the discovery of the millennium. Everywhere he looked was a cornucopia of priceless ancient relics and treasure, but more than that, this was Valhalla, the legendary Hall of the Slain. He still had trouble believing any of this could be real.
This was yet more solid evidence that the history they thought they knew was wrong. The gold, swords and axes all around them told another story altogether, a story where myth was reality and reality was myth, a story that others had known all along, and worked ceaselessly to suppress from the common knowledge of mankind.
“All I wanted was enough loot to buy a little island of my own,” Scarlet said in amazement. “But there’s enough filthy lucre here to buy a much bigger island — like Hawaii maybe.”
“If anyone else said that,” Hawke said from deeper in the cave, “I’d presume it was a joke, but with you I just can’t be sure.”
“I’m going to get my island, Joe, and when I do it’s going to be paradise. You’d love it, I know you would.”
“I’m not sure Hawke would love an island with a ratio of five hundred men to one woman,” Ryan said.
Scarlet shone her flashlight right into Ryan’s face. “If you’re that worried about it you can always come and make that ratio five hundred to two.”
“Yes, very drole, and get that bloody thing out of my face.”
“Give it a rest, you two!” Lea said.
They made their way down a series of cracked stone steps toward the hall. Hawke tried to imagine what it would have been like when it was still in the cliff looking out to see. After a few stumbles on the crumbly steps, they finally reached the main hall, and Hawke thought he heard a noise emanating from one of the tunnels branching off from the main area. He spun around and shone his flashlight down it.
They were looking along a passageway which stretched away into gloom. A statue loomed at the end of it.
“Ryan?”
Ryan shone his flashlight down into the darkness. “Thor. That part of Valhalla must be Bilskirnir — Thor’s Hall. According to the legends, each of the gods and goddesses had their own part of Valhalla reserved for them after they fell in battle. That’s what all these arches are about.”
“This is unbelievable!” Lea said.
“And what’s that down there?” Victoria said in awe.
“What is it?” Ryan said.
Victoria was mesmerized. “Oh my goodness — it’s the Warrior’s Field — the Folkvang…”
“The what?” Ryan asked.
“I read about it in my research — it’s where the Norse goddess of love and prophecies resides — the ninth hall of Valhalla. It’s called the Sessrumnir or the Room of Seats.” She began to wander toward the glow of the tunnel. “If I’m remembering right, it’s where… it’s where Freyja would decide who among the slain would belong to her and who would go to Odin… I must see it!”
“Stay where you are!” Hawke said. “No one wanders off while Sala’s on the loose.”
Hawke meandered further into the darkness and moments later he called out to them. “Look here!” He shone his flashlight up on the far wall and illuminated a massive statue which towered at least fifty feet above the ground.
“What is it?” Scarlet asked.
“Who is it, you mean,” Lea said.
“It’s Odin, the highest god in Norse mythology,” Ryan said. “He has many names — Havi, Grim, Vak — you name it, but it call comes back to the same thing, and the same god.”
Their flashlight beams danced over the statue’s ancient, carved face, up his long beard and over the solid, square bridge of his powerful nose. Two blank stone eyes stared out across the vast hall.