Nina remembered suddenly that Gary was a trained EMT, and that he would perhaps be able to help them get her the treatment she urgently needed. She explained to him the urgency of getting to the Volkhov River as soon as possible. Then, she made another call to good old Frida back in Edinburgh.
When they were sliding through the clouds, the group took the time for a much needed sleep break. Sam tried to stay awake to be with Nina as much as possible, to comfort her. She looked dreadful. She was a walking dead, but he still thought she was the most beautiful women on earth. Her body had become positively emaciated from hardly keeping any food down.
It was hell to see her like this and for the first time in a long time since his life dulled down, Sam felt the characteristic fumes of a desire for vengeance tingle deep in the pit of his stomach. He would trade places with her in a heartbeat, even if it were the last thing he did.
Lita was due a slow death anyway, and Sam knew he would not hesitate to slit her open if Nina had to succumb to the deadly poison Lita had gifted her. Watching the fragile historian use the time to read into the navigation on the Volkhov River without a thought for her own welfare, Sam’s respect for her only increased. Her strength of will was unbelievable and when he looked at her arm, the tattoo of the Tiwaz rune prevalent, he knew why Val Joutsen had chosen Nina Gould to be her champion. It was not for her historical knowledge at all, he knew now. The wise chieftain of The Brotherhood saw in Nina what no-one even knew was there. With his love for Nina warming him, Sam relinquished consciousness for the glory of a deep sleep without visions of nightmares. Regrettably, Nina’s nightmares had only begun.
Once they touched down in Pulkovo in St. Petersburg, the party traveled to Veliky Novgorod by road. The two hour drive was filled with suspense. This was it, the eve of St Blod. They were now locked in a world war under the flags of ancient chieftains no modern army could detect. They would leave this day only in victory or in death, each one of them. Gary was with them, to look after Nina while they completed their task. She was in a bad state. It was as if the impending clash accelerated her collapse. Perhaps it was the fact that she knew all the searching, fighting, fleeing, planning, unraveling, crying, aching, traveling would soon be over, regardless of who would win Valhalla.
Coincidentally or not, it seemed another vehicle was following them. It had been visible in the rear view mirror for over an hour, which was suspicious considering that these roads were not exactly highways with lots of traffic. It refused to pass, even when Gunnar signaled for it to. It would occasionally fall back a bit farther, only to sneak up on them again moments later.
Nina breathed hard and the men opened the windows for her to get fresh air, although it was very chilly. It didn’t matter to them as long as it made the fatally ill woman comfortable. Now and then, Nina dosed off, only to wake from severe pain in her abdomen, wailing in agony.
It drove Sam crazy to feel so helpless. Gary gave her Ringer’s solution IV and monitored her vitals. Gaunt and pallidly moist, her face contorted while her hands reached out to something invisible. She appeared to smile at first, but then a look of utter terror came on her and she started fighting it off. Gary and Eldard had to restrain her while her hallucinations grew more intense.
“No! I don’t want to, you fucking animal! Eat someone else’s hand!” she screamed, curling her hands at the wrist to protect them. When Eldard spoke to her, she looked confused.
“But you are dead, Professor. I cannot talk to you here. How is your head?” she asked Eldard.
“Answer her,” Gunnar said plainly.
“Umm, my head feels much better, thank you.”
“Oh, good,” she sighed, her drenched hair in disarray. “Because you have shrapnel all over your coat, old boy.”
“I swear to Christ, if she…” Sam quietly told Gunnar, but then he remembered that he was addressing someone who had, in fact, lost the love of his life recently.
Gunnar received a text on his cell phone.
“Just grab this and have a look, Sam,” he said, keeping his eye on the rear view mirror where two very disconcerting things chewed at him — Nina’s rapid decline and the strange car in their wake.
“It is from Lars,” Sam announced and Gunnar nodded for him to continue. “My wife got a text from an informant she trusts. It says, ‘L18R15. I’m sorry.’ From someone called Herman. Hope you know what that’s about,” Sam recited. Gunnar shook his head in negative.
“Keep it anyway. So much weird shit has been making sense lately, you never know,” the big widower replied. The car behind them disappeared without their noticing, while Nina took a turn for the worse. By the looks of it, she would not survive the night.
Chapter 37
On the Volkhov River, a slight white glimmer lined the ripples raised by boats traversing the water. It came from the moon trumping the horizon. Glittering rays touched on the grass mounds along the banks, illuminating their risen size, proclaiming them magical tombs crowned with silver. It was cold and quiet, an ancient landscape fraught with memories of blood and promises. Gently rocking, the boat slid through the river at a calm pace and it gave them enough time to scrutinize each mound to determine which the sleeping giant was under which Valhalla was hidden. Its presence in this area was explicitly evident by the antediluvian ambience and the unseen hum of astral existence all round. Only the lapping waters sounded in the grave silence of the reverend site as their eyes studied the dark Viking hillocks for proof of the Great Hall of Wotan.
From a few taller trees a way in from the banks, two pairs of evil eyes watched the boat, waiting to see where it would stop. Now that Lita had lost half of the code to the debris of the hunting lodge, she needed to follow the Brotherhood’s allies to find Valhalla. It was imperative that they find it, this being the eve of St. Blod. It was a prophetic event when the constellations would align in such a manner that the atmospheric consistency of earth was just right.
According to Nazi lore, and a magnitude of scientific notes about physics and climatic properties, the atmosphere would be the catalyst for the destruction brought by whatever wicked thing Odin sealed away when he was chieftain of these tribes. Lita felt her secret excitement mounting. After all the trouble of locating the place, she would soon unlock the hall and unleash Fenrir, depicted as the great black would that would destroy the world.
With her controlling it, she would execute what Hitler could not.
She would also be a far more efficient ruler of the Master Race that would populate the world. From what her supreme logic dictated, the mythical Fenrir was in fact a chemical compound that would react with the electro-magnetic emissions of the planet. She would have three days to implement her destruction and keep her chosen safe, shielded from harm until the end of the eclipse. By then, the eradication of unwanted specimens would be complete. She would accomplish what the SS could not, not in the Vril or the Thule Societies they operated.
Slokin looked around every few seconds, his nervous snorting driving Lita crazy, but she had to keep her eye on the men from Sleipnir on the boat. Incessantly, he would roll his eyes from side to side as if he had seen something and followed its movement.
“What the fuck is with you, Slokin?” she whispered hard.
“This place just gives me the creeps,” he huffed with a stupid giggle while rubbing his hands together.
“I’ll leave your groveling ass here if you don’t pipe down,” she threatened and focused her concentration on the passing boat.
On the boat it was quiet. Sam and Gunnar faced the right bank while Eldard and Gary checked the left. Nina was lying down, sedated by a sleeping pill Gary dispensed to give her some much-needed rest. The moon rose higher now, silently calling the light to spread across the landscape. Gunnar felt Sam nudge him, mute with excitement. Sam pointed to something shiny a few meters past the bank of the river.