“Iceland is going to be gone,” she said.
“Gone?”
“It’s already split,” Ariana said. “Right over the rift between the tectonic plates that it sits on. There’s going to be two dozen volcanoes active within twenty-four hours. While they fill the air with deadly ash, the land mass will begin to collapse in on itself, filling the void where the magna isn’t coming up. Some of the island may remain above water, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere on it.”
“How long?”
“Thirty-six hours.”
“There’s a quarter million people living there,” Foreman said.
“There won’t be in a day and a half.”
Chapter 24
Ragnarok had never been this far north. The main Viking community on Iceland was on the southwest coast where the warmer water made the weather at least livable. The coast that they had traveled around for the past day and a half was rocky, with numerous glaciers flowing into the ocean.
It was a bleak land, devoid of human contact. Early the previous evening they had spotted a smudge of smoke- at first Ragnarok had hoped it was a settlement, but as they got closer to land, they could see the smoke was coming out of the top of a mountain. As darkness fell, the smoke was lit from within by a red glow, something the crew took as an ominous sign. They pressed on, nonetheless, skirting the rocky shore.
“There!” Hrolf was standing next to him, near the tiller. He was pointing shoreward.
Ragnarok eyes followed the old man’s finger. Steam was rushing up into the air in the craggy rocks on shore in a loud hissing they could hear a mile off shore. It went on for a minute then subsided.
“This is not a good land,” Hrolf said. “Odin is angry.”
As Ragnarok was concerned, the god could express his anger all he wanted on Iceland. It was the ocean ahead that worried the Viking leader.
“We must leave the shore behind now,” Bjarni said. The helmsman inclined his head slightly to the right. “The place we seek is that way.”
“How far?” Ragnarok asked.
“Not far- if the witch’s map is correct. Just over the horizon.”
“Are you certain we are in the right place?” Tam Nok had come down the boat to join them.
“I’ve gotten us this far,” Bjarni said. “I think I can get us a little further without getting lost.” He pushed the tiller over and the dragon turned from shore to the open sea. The geyser erupted once more, spewing steam into the air as if warning them not to go further.
Ragnarok crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the ship take the waves at a different angle. The shore slowly faded away, the sound of the geyser lasting even after it was out of sight.
But soon there was only the wind in the sail and the sea against the boat. The sun was going down in the west, with another two hours of daylight left by Ragnarok’s experienced eye.
“Will we make it before nightfall?” Ragnarok asked.
“We’ve made it,” was Bjarni’s simple answer. “Look.”
A dark wall was ahead, growing closer. It even thicker than the fog they’d been in off the coast of Norway where they met Tam Nok. Ragnarok did not like the look of it at all. The wind was not moving the cloud. It sat like a festering scab on the surface of the ocean, hiding some terrible wound in the water itself.
“The Shadow is in there,” Tam Nok said. “I have seen this before.”
“What do you want to do, captain?” Bjarni asked. “It will be dark soon.”
Ragnarok was startled by the formality of the question and he recognized the double-meaning behind his helmsman’s statement.
“We’re here,” Ragnarok said. “We will go in and see what is there.”
As the dark wall got closer, Ragnarok issued orders preparing his men for battle. Shields were hung, bows notched and swords drawn. Ragnarok moved to the front of the ship, Hrolf and Tam Nok at his side.
He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as the dragon head entered the fog. As he crossed from light to dark, the air itself changed, becoming colder, thicker with a sick taste to it. Ragnarok looked over the side. Even the water appeared different, darker, more malevolent. It did not smell of salt, but danker, like an animal that had been killed and left too long in the open.
The ship slipped into the darkness, visibility dropping to less than twenty feet. Even sounds were different, the water against the hull now duller. The wind was gone completely and Ragnarok let the ship coast for a minute before ordering half the crew to the oars, the other half to stand fast with their weapons.
“To the left,” Tam Nok pointed.
Ragnarok could see nothing but he had the order relayed to Bjarni at the rear of the ship instead of yelling it out. He had a feeling there was something out there listening, waiting and he had no desire to provoke it.
“Look,” Bjarni nodded to the right. A small boat made of seal skins stretched over a frame listed in the water. The skins were torn in places and it was barely afloat.
“The Irish monk must have found what he was looking for,” Ragnarok said.
“I hope we don’t find whatever found him,” Bjarni muttered.
“How far?” Ragnarok asked.
“I don’t know,” Tam Nok was staring into the fog as if she could see through it. “But not far.”
Suddenly she turned to the right. “Faster,” she hissed.
Ragnarok chopped his hand and the rowers picked up the pace.
“They’re coming,” Tam Nok had Lailoken’s staff in her hand, the spear tip pointing to starboard.
“The Valkyries?” Ragnarok squeezed the wood handle of his ax.
“Yes. And more.”
There was a startled yell from amidships. Ragnarok turned. A long red tentacle had reached out of the sea and was wrapped around one of the rowers. The man was lifted out of the boat before anyone could react and disappeared under the black waters.
“Kraken!” Hrolf hissed.
The other rowers nearby abandoned their oars and grabbed their weapons, staring fearfully over the side of the ship. Seconds later a half dozen tentacles came out of the water, waving about blindly while a trio of screams came echoing over the water, one right after the other.
The arms came forward, onto the boat, searching for victims. Warriors hacked at them with sword and ax. Ragnarok was about to join the battle when he spotted a Valkyrie floating through the fog, coming toward the bow.
“I will deal with this,” Tam Nok had the staff ready. “You get rid of the beast.”
Ragnarok reluctantly ran to the middle of the ship, Hrolf at his side. With one swing of bone-cutter he severed an arm that had wrapped around one of his men. Two more dashed forward at him. Ragnarok recoiled as he realized there were six inch wide mouths on the tip of each arm, snapping open and shut, revealing rows razor sharp teeth. One of the arms hit a man next to him and bored into his body, eliciting an agonized scream.
Mouth still in the man’s innards, the arm lifted him into the air and tossed him overboard. Ragnarok ducked under the other arm and looked into the water. The body of the Kraken was just under the surface, forty feet long, ten wide, two large saucers eyes over two feet wide staring up at him. A large mouth below the eyes had the body of the man just thrown overboard half ingested.
A tentacle slapped Ragnarok in his back, then slid along to bring the mouth to beat. He spun, ax leading and cut a long, deep slice along the length of the tentacle. There were screams all around now and the curses and cries of men in mortal combat. Out of the corner of his eye, Ragnarok saw another man plucked from the ship. More arms were coming out of the water, as if the Kraken had an inexhaustible supply.