knife into his back next to his spine. He screamed despite the sedation and his voice echoed through the Great Court, an animal cry of agony. The Valkyrie began to saw through his ribs and Morgan struggled in her bonds, desperate to stop the atrocity. One of the Viking men backhanded her, making her head ring. She lay stunned on the floor as the Valkyrie carved the curator’s body in the ancient way. The hostages around her wept, some frozen with terror, hiding behind each other, desperate not to be next for the slaughter.
As the Valkyrie finished separating a rib she pulled it out and away from the man’s body, her hands and arms coated with blood, the men on either side spattered with gore. The curator fell silent and slumped forward, shock shutting down his body, or perhaps dead already from the wounds. But the woman didn’t stop. She kept carving and pulling until the ribs formed hideous wings on either side of the man’s torso – the wings of the Blood Eagle. Finally, she reached in and pulled the man’s lungs from his chest, cutting them from him and offering the chunk of meat to the heavens.
“See this, Odin, and bless our final steps toward glory. Give me your vision now.”
The Valkyrie pulled a vial from a pouch at her belt, and sprinkled powder onto the bloody mess of the curator’s back. From Blake’s description of the Lindisfarne ritual, Morgan thought it must be some kind of powdered relic. The Valkyrie thrust the staff into the wound, coating the iron with fresh blood and powdered bone until it ran red, soaking the sleeves of her tunic.
She held the staff aloft again, spinning around and around, her robes flying out from her. She called out in Norse, a frenzy of blood and power upon her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she spoke strings of words that Morgan couldn’t understand. The Valkyrie was in a shamanic ecstasy, seeing into realms beyond the physical. Could she see where the Eye of Odin lay?
“It is beginning,” the Valkyrie called. A vortex of winds seemed to be drawn in, spinning with her, sweeping the dust of the ancient place into the air until it spiraled upwards toward the glass roof. The hostages huddled together, shielding their eyes from the dust that whirled about them, but Morgan needed to see. The Neo-Vikings lifted their shields up over their heads, looking towards the roof as they did so. In that moment, Morgan knew what was going to happen.
Chapter 7
THE VALKYRIE THRUST HER staff upward with a shout of triumph. The spiral of wind hit the glass roof with incredible force, smashing the panels, sending a rain of glass down on those below. With a last reserve of energy, Morgan flipped her body and with both feet, sprang for cover as the first shards of glass fell. Blake had the sense to follow her, using his bound feet to push himself along the floor. They made it under the shelter of the tourist information booth before the glass exploded on the marble floor.
Several of the hostages crammed themselves under the overhang along with them, and Morgan pulled one of the children tightly toward her, shielding the little girl’s head. Huge shards of glass fractured on the flagstones and the wind whipped the pieces like razors through the crowd as screams echoed through the Great Court. The Valkyrie stood unharmed in the eye of the storm as shards spun around her, while her men were shielded from the large pieces by their shields but were cut by the exploded fragments.
Morgan couldn’t take her eyes off the Valkyrie, as she thrust the staff upward again and again. The screams of the captives were peppered with groans as people were cut down while running for cover. It was chaos in the Great Court, but the Neo-Vikings were no longer concerned with the captives.
The vortex smashed against the roof until the metal struts between the glass panes began to warp and bend. A part of Morgan screamed that this must be an illusion – how could the staff hold the
As the Valkyrie finished separating a rib she pulled it out and away from the man’s body, her hands and arms coated with blood, the men on either side spattered with gore. The curator fell silent and slumped forward, shock shutting down his body, or perhaps dead already from the wounds. But the woman didn’t stop. She kept carving and pulling until the ribs formed hideous wings on either side of the man’s torso – the wings of the Blood Eagle. Finally, she reached in and pulled the man’s lungs from his chest, cutting them from him and offering the chunk of meat to the heavens.
“See this, Odin, and bless our final steps toward glory. Give me your vision now.”
The Valkyrie pulled a vial from a pouch at her belt, and sprinkled powder onto the bloody mess of the curator’s back. From Blake’s description of the Lindisfarne ritual, Morgan thought it must be some kind of powdered relic. The Valkyrie thrust the staff into the wound, coating the iron with fresh blood and powdered bone until it ran red, soaking the sleeves of her tunic.
She held the staff aloft again, spinning around and around, her robes flying out from her. She called out in Norse, a frenzy of blood and power upon her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she spoke strings of words that Morgan couldn’t understand. The Valkyrie was in a shamanic ecstasy, seeing into realms beyond the physical. Could she see where the Eye of Odin lay?
“It is beginning,” the Valkyrie called. A vortex of winds seemed to be drawn in, spinning with her, sweeping the dust of the ancient place into the air until it spiraled upwards toward the glass roof. The hostages huddled together, shielding their eyes from the dust that whirled about them, but Morgan needed to see. The Neo-Vikings lifted their shields up over their heads, looking towards the roof as they did so. In that moment, Morgan knew what was going to happen.
Chapter 7
THE VALKYRIE THRUST HER staff upward with a shout of triumph. The spiral of wind hit the glass roof with incredible force, smashing the panels, sending a rain of glass down on those below. With a last reserve of energy, Morgan flipped her body and with both feet, sprang for cover as the first shards of glass fell. Blake had the sense to follow her, using his bound feet to push himself along the floor. They made it under the shelter of the tourist information booth before the glass exploded on the marble floor.
Several of the hostages crammed themselves under the overhang along with them, and Morgan pulled one of the children tightly toward her, shielding the little girl’s head. Huge shards of glass fractured on the flagstones and the wind whipped the pieces like razors through the crowd as screams echoed through the Great Court. The Valkyrie stood unharmed in the eye of the storm as shards spun around her, while her men were shielded from the large pieces by their shields but were cut by the exploded fragments.
Morgan couldn’t take her eyes off the Valkyrie, as she thrust the staff upward again and again. The screams of the captives were peppered with groans as people were cut down while running for cover. It was chaos in the Great Court, but the Neo-Vikings were no longer concerned with the captives.
The vortex smashed against the roof until the metal struts between the glass panes began to warp and bend. A part of Morgan screamed that this must be an illusion – how could the staff hold the
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