Another snap two steps further down. Drake danced in place. “Shit!”
Another roar from above signified the next falling rock.
“It’s a replicating trap,” Ben told them. “Same thing keeps happening over and over. We need to get below this section.”
Drake couldn’t tell which steps were snared and which ones weren’t, so he trusted to luck and speed. They ran headlong down about thirty steps, trying to stay airborne as much as possible. The sides of the staircase crumbled as they traversed the ancient pathway, scathing away into the depths of the rocky cavern.
The sound of rubble hitting the bottom began to grow louder.
The snapping of hard twine followed their flight.
Drake stepped on another false stair, but his momentum took him over the short void. Kennedy leapt it and him, graceful as a gazelle in full flight, but Ben tumbled in her wake, now rolling into the gap.
“Legs!” Drake shouted, then fell backward across the void, becoming the ground. Relief washed tension from his brain when Kennedy pinned his legs into place. He felt Ben hit his body, then tumble across his chest. Drake guided the kid’s momentum with his arms, then gave him an extra push onto solid ground.
Sat up quick, crunch style.
“Keep going!”
The air was filled with bits of rock. One glanced off Kennedy’s head, leaving a cut and a gush of blood. Another struck Drake’s ankle. The agony made him grit his teeth, and spurred him to run faster.
Bullets raked the wall above their heads. Drake ducked, and took a momentary look up at the entrance.
Saw a familiar force gathered there. The Germans.
They ran at full pace now, beyond reckless. Drake took precious seconds to fall to the rear. When another salvo of bullets pitted the stone next to his head he dived forward, bouncing down the steps, rolling full circle with his arms tucked in, and coming back up to full height without losing an ounce of momentum.
Ah, the good old days were back.
More bullets. Then the others collapsed in front of him. Horror sheared a hole through his heart until he realised they’d simply hit the bottom of the cavern at a dead run and, unprepared, had ran themselves right into the ground.
Drake slowed. The bottom of the cavern was a thick mess of stone and dust and tree-debris. When they rose, Kennedy and Ben were a sight to behold. Not only covered in dirt and mud, but now with extra baked-on dust and leafy mould.
“Ah, for my trusty camera,” he intoned. “Years of blackmail stands before me.”
Drake picked up a glow stick and hugged the curve of the cavern that ran away from the gunmen. It took five minutes to walk the outer limits of the tree. They were constantly overshadowed by its imposing stillness.
Drake clapped Ben on the shoulder. “Better than any Friday night groupie sesh, eh mate?”
Kennedy glanced at the young lad with new eyes. “You have groupies? Your band has groupies? That’s a conversation we’re gonna have real soon, bro. Believe it.”
“Only two—” Ben began to stammer as they rounded a portion of the final curve, and then clammed up in shock.
They all stopped.
Ancient dreams of amazement stood before them, rendering them speechless, practically brain-dead for about half a minute.
“Now that’s… that’s…”
“Gobsmacking, ” Drake breathed.
A row of the biggest Viking longboats they’d ever imagined stretched away from them, single file, resting end to end, as if stuck in the middle of an archaic traffic jam. Their sides were adorned with silver and gold, their sails festooned with silk and jewels.
“Longboats,” Kennedy said dumbly.
“Long-ships.” Ben still had wits enough to correct her. “Damn, these things were considered great treasures of their time. There must be… what? Twenty here?”
“Pretty awesome,” Drake said. “But it’s the Spear we came for. Any ideas?”
Ben was now staring at the World Tree. “Jesus, guys. Can you imagine? Odin hung in that tree. Fuckin’ Odin.”
“So now you believe in Gods, hmm? Groupie-boy?” Kennedy sidled next to Ben a little saucily, making him blush.
Drake climbed onto a narrow ledge that ran the length of the long-ship tailback. The rock felt sturdy. He gripped a timber edge and leaned over. “These things are filled with loot. Safe to say, no one’s ever been here before today.”
He studied the line of ships again. A display of unimaginable riches, but where was the real treasure? At the end? The end of the rainbow? The sides of the cavern were adorned with ancient drawings. He saw a depiction of Odin hanging on the World Tree, a woman kneeling before him.
“What does this say?” He beckoned Ben over. “C’mon, hurry. Those dodgy bastards aren’t jamming Bratwurst down their throats up there. Let’s move.”
He indicated a rough swirl of text underneath the woman’s supplicating figure. Ben shook his head. “But technology will find a way. “ He took a snap with his trusty I-phone, which, thankfully, had proved to be out of signal down here.
Drake took a moment to include Kennedy. “My only idea is to follow these longboats,” he said. “You okay with that?”
“Like the cheerleader said to the football team — I’m game, boys. Lead the way.”
He forged ahead, aware that if this super-tunnel came to a dead end they would be trapped. The Germans would be hard on their tail, not sat resting on their laurels. Drake compartmentalised the thought, focusing on the ledge that had been hewn into the rock. Every so often they came across another glow stick. Drake masked them or moved them to create a more shadowy environment, preparing for the struggle ahead. He searched constantly among the long-ships, and finally made out a tight path meandering between them.
Plan B.
Two, four, and then ten long-ships went past. Drake’s feet started to ache with the effort of negotiating the narrow path.
The faint noise of a tumbling boulder, and then a louder scream echoed through the gargantuan cavern, its meaning obvious. Without a sound they bent even harder to their task.
Drake came at last to the end of the row. He’d counted twenty-three ships, every one pristine and laden with loot. As they approached the back of the tunnel darkness started to encroach.
“Guess they never got this far.” Kennedy remarked.
Drake rummaged for the big flashlight. “Risky,” he said. “But we need to know.”
He clicked it on and swept the beam from side to side. The passageway narrowed drastically, until it became a simple archway up ahead.
And beyond the archway lay a single set of stairs.
Ben suddenly stifled a scream, then stage-whispered: “They’re on the ledge!”
This was it. Drake took action. “We split up,” he said. “I’ll go for the stairs. You two get down there among the ships and head back the way we came.”
Kennedy started to protest, but Drake shook his head. “No. Do it. Ben needs protection, I don’t. And we need the Spear.”
“And when we reach the end of the ships?”
“I’ll be back by then.”
Drake sprang away without another word, leaping off the ledge and making for the blind staircase. He looked back once and saw shadows advancing along the ledge. Ben was following Kennedy down the rubble-strewn slope to the base of the last Viking ship. Drake sent a prayer of hope and hit the stairs at a dead run, taking them two at a time.
Come on. He climbed until his calves ached and his lungs burned. But then he came out onto a wide landing. Beyond that lay a wide stream, rushing madly, and still further away stood a raised altar of rough hewn rock, almost like an archaic barbecue.