Valhalla Virus, Nick Harrow [simple ebook reader txt] 📗

Gunnar flung his spear at Arthur in the same instant. A surge of hamingja leapt from him to the weapon’s sparking head, and he roared, “Stormur!”

The jarl didn’t have much of the life energy to spare, but this surprise attack stood the best chance of cutting down the number of jötnar between him and Bridget.

A storm exploded away from the spear in midflight, raining lightning onto the crowd as thunder rolled across the fortress. Jötnar exploded with every bolt of lightning that plunged into their midst from the supernatural thundercloud that trailed behind Gungnir. The jarl raced along the path the spear had opened for him, arms and legs pumping for all he was worth as he rushed for Arthur.

Mimi kept pace with him, her short swords flashing. Jötnar screamed in pain as her otherworldly blades lopped off any limbs that came near her. Severed hands flew into the air behind her, blood sprayed in her wake, and Mimi laughed, mad with battle.

The armor the Hall of Battle had provided turned aside blows from the jötnar, though the impact still made Mimi stumble and rocked Gunnar from side to side. The storm had done its work, but it had ended, and the jötnar closed in on the pair.

With a sizzling crack, Gungnir reappeared in the jarl’s fist, and he plunged it into one body after another. It was time for the dirty work of slaughter. The weapon seemed drawn to his enemies, its tip flicking like a serpent’s tongue, guiding Gunnar’s strikes to their targets.

The jarl leaned into the weapon’s strengths, spinning and leaping like a man possessed, trusting that his strokes would find their targets as he whirled the weapon around his head. The ludicrously sharp tip worked as well as an axe head as it did a thrusting weapon, and he put it to full use.

The spear’s rotation transformed it into a blurred shield that deflected claws and clubs even as the sharp end hacked their wielders into bloody chunks. Mimi darted under the weapon, her speed and agility letting her score deadly wounds while still being sheltered by Gunnar’s defenses.

Gunnar and Mimi were only halfway across the clearing when Arthur shouted a command that snapped every monster to attention. They shook off their stunned confusion, raised their weapons, and surged to the attack.

“There’re too many of them,” Mimi shouted as a crisscross slash from her swords took the head off a charging jötunn. “I can kill ’em all, but not before noon.”

“We’ll make it,” he responded. A thrust from Gungnir impaled two jötnar, and he swung the weapon around in a savage arc that sent the dead bodies crashing into the mob on his right. With a ragged cry, he swept the legs out from another trio of monsters and stabbed them through their hearts as they fell.

Crystalline arrows shrieked through the air over Mimi’s and Gunnar’s heads to plunge into the eyes and throats of the jötnar barring their path. The slaughter continued as the jarl pushed deeper into the jötnar.

Hamingja surged away from the dead, flowing into Gunnar, Mimi, and Ray in torrents of vitality. Gunnar’s muscles swelled and the fires of berserker rage boiled within his gut like a cauldron of molten iron. The power made him faster and stronger, and he put his new abilities to use as he and Mimi danced around one another, their blades carving a bloody swath through their foes.

Ray put her share of the stolen life force into her arrows, charging their heads so they exploded like grenades when they struck a jötunn. Her assault filled the air with steaming blood and streamers of shredded meat.

“Stop him!” Arthur shouted. “Cut off that fucker’s head and bring it to me!”

“I’m coming for you,” Gunnar howled back at Arthur. “Your monsters can’t save you.”

Despite the horrific casualties the jötnar had suffered at Gunnar’s hand, though, they kept coming. Only the shamans and the warriors who guarded them stayed out of the fray. Those dedicated monsters put all their strength into bringing the ritual to fruition.

Gunnar felt the power of their chanting pound against him in relentless waves. The sun was high overhead. He had to get to Draupnir before it was too late.

But there were so many jötnar, and all of them seemed willing to die to stop his charge. A wall of blue-skinned bodies barred his path, and though he struck them down so quickly they didn’t have time to scream, more took their place.

Mimi had been right. There wasn’t time to kill all of these godforsaken bastards.

“It is time.” Bridget’s words were light as a feather in his thoughts. They gave the jarl hope, though he didn’t understand what they meant.

Gunnar clung to the hope the völva gave him and kept pushing to reach her. Mimi shrieked with rage. Black blood had soaked her to the bone, and the whites of her eyes and bared teeth looked ghostly pale in her face.

“Gunnar, look!” she shouted.

There was a flash of steel on the platform, and Bridget’s hands flew apart, the thick ropes dropping to her feet. She jumped up, raising a knife in the same motion. The völva spun around and plunged it toward the throat of the female jötunn behind her. The attack was shockingly quick, but the monster managed to shift out of the way so the deadly strike only caught her shoulder.

With a snarl, the female jötunn threw herself off the edge of the platform, clutching her shoulder, and vanished in a haze of smoke and shadow. Before Bridget could chase after her enemy, the Jarl called out to her.

“Bridget!” Gunnar shouted. “The ring!”

The völva’s eyes glowed white as she thrust her hand toward the jarl, fingers outstretched. “Throw it,” she shouted.

Gunnar knew what she needed. He ripped the battle axe from the weapon belt over his shoulder and hurled it over the heads of the jötnar.

Arthur lunged for Bridget in the same instant. His hand closed around her throat, the golden band sizzling where