Chapter 1
Blinding snow and biting wind whipped around me as I climbed, my arms shaking with exertion. Each strike of the ice axe sent a tremor through my entire body, which was pinned tightly against the mountain’s face. It was with great relief that I reached the next ledge, cautiously testing its stability with my ice pick. Finding that it could hold my weight, I stepped off and shuffled my way out onto a small plateau, clearing the way for my partner to follow suit. Through the slits of my snow blinds, I could see Wesley Hartley’s lanky form showing similar signs of exhaustion. His weight settled onto the flat land, and he placed a palm against the cliff face and bent over. His chest rose and fell in quick, ragged breaths that were clear even through the massive white parka and the crisscrossing straps of his backpack.
My gaze swept past him, out across the landscape of Norway’s Jotunheimen mountain range. From our spot on the cliff, I could see no signs of civilization--only snow, stone and the valley far below from which we had ascended. The blizzard had abated enough to allow a brief glimpse of the weak sun straining through thin clouds. I didn’t dare pause for any longer. Reaching out to pat Wes’s arm, I pointed further up our path to the next level. He gave a weary nod and gathered himself to continue the journey.
It was easier climbing from here; the flattened plateau led us up and around, into the sheer rock face and on to a more gradual gradient. The featureless slope broke away, while outcroppings held the snow at bay, until we were able to find a cave sunk several yards into the leeward side of the peak. We stooped to enter, finding it deep enough to hold the both of us comfortably. The walls showed every sign of being dug by the forces of nature, the depth preventing any significant buildup of snow. I dropped my pack off and to the side; barely heard it hit the ground, and pulled the scarf from around my lower face. Small icicles had formed on the front from my breath freezing, and it crunched and folded as it dropped to my shoulders.
“Never again!” I groaned, collapsing into a sitting position beside my pack. “Nothing north of Calais. I refuse to even go back to England after this. It’s just too damn cold.”
“The cold does not bother me as much as the heights,” Wes answered, using his pack to partially block the entrance to the cave. “But I will be perfectly content to never go higher than the roof of single story building after this.”
I nodded in agreement and rifled through my pack. I came out with a small camp stove, placing it on the ground between us before setting it alight. A tin of food came next, and we warmed our hands next to the fire as it heated. The cave did an admirable job of holding the wind and cold at bay, but I continued to shiver violently while we sat and ate in silence. Wes produced tea bags from a pocket of his parka. I was usually not one to enjoy tea, but I found myself immensely grateful for the warm drink.
“We’ll stay here for the night,” I said, looking out at the dim light coming through the entrance to our cave.
“Based on what I could see, I would say we have another half day’s climb from here to reach the summit,” Wes commented, putting away his small tin cup. “From there, I could not say.”
“I don’t think we’ll have much further to travel after we get to the temple. The location is so remote; it shouldn’t drop very far into the mountain.” I rubbed my arms with my hands, trying to get warm from the friction. “Although, we aren’t exactly dealing with mortal restrictions here.”
“As comforting as that is, I choose to think that you are correct with the temple being near the surface,” Wes said, undoing the straps from the bedroll at the bottom of his pack. “How far behind do you think they are?”
“They have more men, more supplies, and they left after us. We should have a few hours head start, at least.” I didn’t sound as sure as I’d hoped, and Wes gave me a concerned look.
“We aren’t even sure what we are looking for, Chance.” He said.
“The legend says that Odin sacrificed his right eye to gain knowledge of the future.” I mused, working my hand up through layers of clothing to find a crumpled booklet. I yanked it free and scanned the pages. “To some deity named ‘Mimir’, supposedly he looked after a well beneath the world tree, Yig… driss,” I squinted, looked down at an incomprehensible word and snorted. “…this word does not have enough consonants. It doesn’t matter. His eye remains in the well, reminding everyone of what the eldest of the gods was willing to give for wisdom.”
“That doesn’t sound like a weapon.” Wes countered.
“The well doesn’t, but Odin was supposedly chock full of potent magic.” I said, snapping the booklet shut.
There wasn’t much to be done about the situation, so I focused on setting up my own bedroll. I shut off the camp stove, fuel being a precious commodity, and stowed it between the two of us, hoping it would continue radiating heat for a while. The cave proved warmer than our tent had the night before, but I could feel the biting chill outside despite several layers of wool blanket and a thick down sleeping bag. I kept my Colt in the coverings with me, afraid that it would crack or turn brittle in the cold if I left it out and had to use it. I also kept the majority of my clothes on, shedding only my parka and boots, and allowed exhaustion to overcome cold.
I spent the night in fits of sleep, which broke the miserable hours I was curled in a fetal position within my sleeping bag. When morning came, I was happy to throw my parka and boots back on, start moving again, and get my blood flowing. We had another tin of food each, and another cup of fortifying tea, before striking camp and setting out. Our plateau ended all too quickly in another craggy rock wall, stretching up into the distance.
“There might be a way around,” Wes shouted through his scarf and the wind.
I shook my head.
“This isn’t too bad. I can see plenty of footholds. I’ll head up and toss some rope down. Then we can haul up the packs, and you can follow.” I shrugged out of my pack’s shoulder straps, letting the pack fall heavily into the snow.
“Don’t push yourself too hard, Chance,” Wes admonished, causing me to turn back to him crossly. “I can go first on occasion.”
“I’m smaller, lighter, it’s easier for me,” I argued, and before he could counter I had stepped out onto the first outcropping, my ice axe dangling from my left wrist. It was easier than some of our previous climbs had been, but my hands were cramping severely by the time I reached the top. I sat, looking out over the sharp, imposing landscape while my legs and hands recovered. Once I was sure it was safe, I used the flat end of my axe to hammer a hard point into the ice and ran a coil of rope down to Wes. Our packs came up, one at a time, and then I watched with apprehension as Wes attached the rope to his harness.
He made better time than I had, having watched which handholds seemed the most stable. I kept constant tension on the rope, and soon we were both safe at the summit. A thin path led in a spiral around the increasingly small diameter of the mountain peak, slanted just enough to make the trek harrowing.
“Look,” Wes yelled from behind me, and I spun, nearly losing my footing as I incorrectly judged my clearance due to the bulky pack. It hit the cliff wall, pushing me out an extra inch, but I countered my weight quickly enough to avoid anything worse than a brief totter. He was pointing down to where our cave was. I could see several forms moving past it, hauling packs up from below. They were dressed in dark winter uniforms and moved with practiced ease across the snow and rock. “Are those mountain troops?”
“They must be. Come on. We have to hurry.” I grimaced, taking off at the fastest pace I could.
“Chance, slow down. We can’t beat them if we’re dead,” Wes insisted loudly, but I didn’t heed his warning.
I began to cross a small gap, but what I had thought was rock turned out to be nothing but snow and ice. It crumbled and split as I set my weight on it, and I felt a sickening lurch as I began to slide. I still had my ice axe, but it was too late. My foot flew into the open air, and I cried out, surprised at the sudden shift in balance.
It was only Wes’s sudden yank on my pack that left me with a smarting rear end, rather than a deadly fall. I landed firmly in a sitting position, my hands trembling from adrenaline.
We stayed quiet for precious seconds, before Wes stated, “Lieutenant, I would suggest that we move at a more prudent pace.”
“You are absolutely correct.” My voice was raw, and Wes helped me to my feet. I moved with measured caution from then on, ensuring that each step was on hard ground. We caught the occasional glimpse of our pursuers, but the winding path frequently hid the troops. An hour or more passed before we reached the apex, the air thin enough to make breathing difficult.
The path culminated in rough-hewn stone stairs that seemed massively out of place in the organic landscape of the isolated mountain. A stone ring, two dozen yards in diameter, surrounded a strangely peaceful courtyard atop the stairs. A thin layer of snow covered every surface, enhancing the ethereal aesthetic of the clearing. Mediterranean-type columns circled the far surface of the ring, where the mountain continued for another thirty feet before terminating in a razor sharp point. In contrast, roughly carved stones inlaid with Nordic runes were scattered about the clearing. A large circular stone sat at the terminus of the pillars, set into the side of the peak. The entire area was noticeably warmer than the rest of the mountain due to lack of wind, which left the courtyard balmy. I noted with surprise that the snow settling around the pillars was actually melting, albeit very slowly. I pulled the scarf away from my mouth, removing the slitted snow blinds from my eyes. Wes followed suit, pushing back the hood of his parka.
“Damn,” he cursed, slowly looking about the courtyard. I knelt next to one of the roughly carved rune stones, giving him a sideways glance. “I owe the major ten francs. I bet him that there would be nothing up here but more snow.”
“I wouldn’t bet against the major,” I laughed, pushing myself back up to my feet. The air was heavier inside of the courtyard, easier to breathe. It was like being back at sea level. “Particularly when he thinks something weird is around.”
“So I am learning,” Wes grumbled good-naturedly, coming to a stop in front of the circular stone. He carefully removed one of his gloves, rapping a knuckle against the center of it. “Do you think we can open it?”
“I think we’re going to try,” I mused, cramming my removed gloves into my pockets. I ran my bare fingertips along the surface of the stone, searching for any seam or break in the smooth expanse. Finding none, I took a step back and scanned the surrounding mountain side. It was similarly featureless, causing me to frown deeply. “We don’t have enough time to be dealing with a puzzle.”
“Maybe it isn’t a puzzle,” Wes said, scratching at the stubble on his cheek. “Mightn’t we need a key?”
“If I climbed this entire mountain for nothing, because of bad intelligence, I’m going to be very angry,” I fumed, slamming the tip of my boot against the stone in a sharp kick.
“Best be careful, Chance,” Wes said, amused. “The Norse gods weren’t known for responding well to violence.”
“He’d have to open the door to come after me, wouldn’t he?” I shot back, stepping to the center of the courtyard. “Check around for some sort of mechanism. We must be missing something.”
“You usually are, Miss Masters.” Along with the voice came an amused chuckle from the lifted rim of the clearing. Reinhardt Schuntzel, dressed in a thick gray snow suit and surrounded by men with serious climbing equipment, stood at the top of the stairs. His platinum blond hair was barely visible from beneath the hood of his jacket, and his small, round glasses fogged noticeably as he entered the courtyard. I pawed at my parka, falling back behind one of the pillars as I tried to get my Colt from my thick jacket. Schuntzel gave an exasperated sigh and stepped down into the courtyard. “Oh, put it away, Lieutenant. Is it really necessary that we go through that song and dance again?”
I noted with annoyance that Wes hadn’t even attempted to find cover, merely crossing his arms over his chest while waiting in front of the stone. I narrowed my eyes, pursed my lips, and gave him an angry look. He closed his eyes and shrugged.
“We’re at the top of the world, looking on ruins that may have been forged by a god. You have what, seven bullets?” Schuntzel made a show of counting on his fingers. “I didn’t even bother bringing a gun. It would have been excess weight.”
The mountaineers spread out and started setting up their equipment, placing small crates around the circular stone. “After Paris and Gevaudun, I have a grudging respect for you, but you really are very violent.” Schuntzel mused.
“You’ve tried to kill me twice,” I said from behind the pillar. I wasn’t even sure why I was still hiding, since only Schuntzel couldn’t see me. The mountaineers weren’t even acknowledging my presence.
“Three times, technically,” Schuntzel said, “You forgot the poltergeist.”
“You’re not helping your argument.” I was pretty sure I was pouting, and it was making me even angrier.
“You just aren’t that important right now, Lieutenant.”
I peered out at him from behind the pillar, and he gestured around us again. “I’m going to open the temple, I’m going to retrieve the Eye, and then I am going to descend and return to mainland Europe. You can’t stop me. You’ll get to the bottom after I have, and at that point there’s nothing you can do.”
“So what, you think I should just stand by and watch?” I snapped, finally leaving the cover of the column. He shrugged again, showing an infuriating little lift of his shoulders.
“I’m merely offering to let you; wouldn’t you like to see the interior?”
“Is this a trap?” I asked, “This is a trap, isn’t it.”
“Chance,” Wes chided, “Why would he need to set up a trap?”
“You too?” I asked loudly, stamping my foot. At the realization of what I’d done, I turned crimson red, Wes coughed awkwardly, and Schuntzel merely shook his head. I jammed the Colt back into my jacket, crossed my arms firmly over my chest and turned to stare quietly at the circular stone.
The mountain troops had set up a half-oxidized bronze seal over the front. It must have been carried in several dozen pieces, amongst the whole of the platoon. Its runes were similar to those on the stones around us, with intricate design work that seemed to show a stylized design of the world. There was one last open space at the very center, a small circle that Schuntzel promptly filled with a fist sized medallion.
There was a low groan from deep within the mountain, and the stone slowly drifted into the ground. An opening in the peak became visible behind, leading into a small, roughly circular, and utterly undecorated cave. Only a single fountain was contained within, unmarked, three feet tall, and relatively unimpressive.
“That’s all?” I asked incredulously, turning to Schuntzel.
“I…” Schuntzel began, taking a step inside of the room. He looked around quickly, and finished with a defeated sigh. “must admit that I am rather disappointed.”
“I suppose Odin wasn’t much for needless decoration,” Wes said amusedly. Schuntzel looked at him imploringly and closed the gap between the entrance and fountain. The mountain soldiers seemed uninterested, staying outside.
I shrugged, following the German agent into the cave.
The fountain was filled with still, clear water. Sitting within the small pool was a round stone, polished and translucent. The color was impossible to identify, constantly shifting and glowing as a maelstrom of clouded gossamer spun and gyrated within. Around the center, two roughly hook shaped silver designs merged to form the vague shape of an open eye.
“Well?” I asked, looking across the pedestal at Schuntzel, who seemed absorbed in the stone.
He looked up, quirking an eyebrow. I asked, “What does it do?”
“Legend tells that it has untold destructive potential,” Schuntzel announced haughtily, reaching his bare hand for the stone. “The fury of heaven and earth, the anger of storms and the rage of a half-blinded god.”
“So you don’t know, exactly,” I dug, watching as he drew his hand back slightly.
“It seems obvious that it’s a weapon,” he snarled.
“You’d better hope so,” I said, feeling a smile stretch across my lips.
Schuntzel shook his head, grabbing the stone. I couldn’t say why it happened, but I was thrown back through the opening in the cave and out into the courtyard. I struck a column with my shoulder and side, rolling off onto the opposite hip. Dazed and in pain, I heard only a dull ringing when I came to rest on my side with my face buried against one arm.
I felt someone shaking me and groaned in response. I flailed my upper arm, an action which caused me to tumble onto my back. I saw Wes’s face come into focus above me, and I narrowed my eyes in an attempt to clear the blurriness. Far above him, I thought I saw two black shapes circling above the mountain’s summit. I knew that we were far too high to see birds, but I would have identified them as ravens. I had only a moment to ponder this peculiarity before blissful unconsciousness swept over me.
