The Iron Hammer

by J. M. Briggs

  Green sparks turned into a stream of glimmering magic that flowed into the cistern. Merlin’s magic spread across the surface of the water. Briefly, he worried that there wasn’t enough water to make this work. Then the water began to rise out of the cistern in a small column. It began to swirl in a tight formation and twisted from horizontal to vertical. Closing his eyes, Merlin focused on the memory of Notre Dame. He hadn’t been to Paris for some time, but the majestic cathedral sprang to mind easily. Merlin opened his eyes and found that the spinning water tunnel was larger as it pulled water from the Seine. Stepping over the concrete block wall of the cistern, Merlin reached out towards the water tunnel and stepped inside.

  Water tugged at his clothing but didn’t seep into the fabric as he walked across the current. He was being swept across the globe as his magic tingled across his skin and protected him. In the swirling blues and greens around him, he caught flashes of other places, people, and animals, but ignored them all as he focused on Paris. The green color around him intensified as he pushed more of his magic into the water tunnel. He began to slow down in speed and the images became clearer and clearer.

  The water tunnel opened slowly along a dark riverside. Merlin stepped out onto the small platform built along the pale brick retaining walls that lined the Seine’s path through Paris. Soft lights glimmered against the water and sparkled off of the churning water tunnel. The rush of the water was too loud and above him in the darkness loomed Notre Dame. Merlin looked up towards it even as he waved his hand and the water tunnel fell apart with a splash. Humming softly, he climbed up the small staircase that led up to the bank. A spring chill began to seep into his skin and he looked overhead, but the lights of Paris allowed only a few dim stars to be visible.

  There was a distant sound of voices and Merlin looked around as he reached the top of the stairs. Stopping in place, Merlin’s body trembled in relief at the sight of the children. They were standing in a group with Alex, all smiling slightly even though they all looked exhausted. He wondered for a moment how long they’d been underground. Only Alex had anything. A backpack was strapped to her back and she was clutching at the straps tightly. Merlin could almost feel the hum of Mjǫllnir and smiled.

  “Alex,” he called. Merlin started walking as they all turned towards him and used it as an opportunity to check them all over, even Lance and Jenny. No one was injured as far as he could see. “Good to see you all.” Putting a hand on Alex’s shoulder, he gave it a slight squeeze. “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah, just…” Alex looked at the others. He could see that she was nervous. Their little group hadn’t been separated much lately.

  “We’ll be fine, Alex,” Jenny assured her. “We’ve got tickets booked tomorrow night.” Jenny slipped her arm through Lance’s and beamed up at him. “Time to rest and maybe even see some sights.”

  “We’ll get you something,” Nicki promised with a smile. “And let us know if you need anything.”

  Alex nodded slowly and Merlin almost sighed in relief. For a moment he’d been concerned that she’d change her mind. He looked them all over one more time. “You still have money correct?”

  “We’ve barely touched what Morgana sent us with,” Bran answered. Then the boy grinned. “Maybe a fancy dinner tomorrow before we go to the airport.”

  “Oh I like that, I vote for that!” Jenny was almost jumping with excitement. Then she gave Alex another smile. “See? We’ll be fine.”

  Merlin offered the girl a real smile. Her eyes widened and she looked uncertain. There was a tug of guilt in his gut and Merlin knew that Arto would be very distressed that even the reincarnation of Gwenyvar would have reason to fear him. She and Lance had gone with the mages after both the Iron Chalice and now Mjǫllnir. It was a different sort of loyalty and one he wasn’t sure he completely trusted yet, but it was loyalty all the same.

  As he led Alex towards the river Merlin was aware of the others watching them. He was grateful they were hanging back so Alex didn’t second guess herself. It took him a moment to realize that the slight hum he’d been feeling in the air was stronger around Alex. Merlin looked at her in the corner of his eye. She was frowning thoughtfully as a strand of blonde hair hung in her face. She wasn’t using any of her magic at the moment, but there was a distinct sense of power radiating from her that connected to the odd feeling he’d had earlier. It wasn’t even Mjǫllnir in her bag, but Merlin was sure that finding the hammer had something to do with it.

  Alex was silent and still as he formed a new water tunnel. He almost considered having her help, but her silence and the far off look on her face instantly killed that idea. Reaching over, Merlin took her hand and gave it a soft squeeze of reassurance. Alex’s gray eyes met his for a moment, flashing with something, but exhaustion swept it all away.

  “I promise you can rest soon.”

  They stepped into the water tunnel and Alex’s grip on his hand became iron. His fingers ached at the strength of her fearful grasp as images flashed by them. Gray magic began to flow from her free hand and mix with his own green magic through Merlin doubted Alex was aware of it. She gasped softly behind him as an image of Yellowstone appeared for a moment before they rushed by. It made him smile.

  Merlin focused on his memory of his backyard and the cistern. He’d built the thing to ensure he’d have water for forging and any accidents years ago but had never really used it as his little neighborhood had a well. The water tunnel opened before him, creating a thin layer of magic between them and his back yard. He could see Morgana waiting though her image was fuzzy. Stepping forward, Merlin tugged Alex out after him and caught her when she almost tripped over the edge of the cistern.

  Alex was a bit shaken on her feet as she stepped over the wall and he let go of her hand. Morgana surged forth and wrapped Alex in a tight hug. The blonde young woman looked surprised for a moment and her eyes flashed with something Merlin couldn’t identify much to his surprise. Then Alex smiled and returned the hug, her shoulders relaxing. They led her back into his house quickly. Alex shrugged off her backpack and pulled out an old leather case.

  His eyes dropped to the case as Alex set it on the table of his living room. “I’m still amazed it was found in Norway.”

  “Honestly I’m not sure how they did,” Alex said. “I didn’t see any of that. I wish I knew.”

  “Sadly it is impossible to always know.” Morgana shook her head. “There’s always something that you can’t explain. The source of a legend that is true in too many ways. I usually assume that someone with a little magical ability had a vision as a dream and just told it as a story. It really doesn’t take much.”

  Alex nodded vaguely and Merlin shared a worried glance with Morgana. Judging from the way the other mage was watching Alex she sensed that something had changed. The energy in the air was sharper than before, like a building storm and Mjǫllnir was thrumming with power in the case. Merlin wasn’t certain what was going to happen next, but it seemed the world was waiting with baited breath for it.

  30

  Thieves in the Day

  April 1944 C.E. Hamburg, Germany

  There was only a brief window of time when Weber’s hotel room was accessible without guards inside. Every step of the journey back to Germany, Weber had become more and more paranoid, but now there was a tiny hint of opportunity that Gottfried found himself pursuing despite the voice telling him not to. Gottfried carefully hoisted himself over the side of the fire escape and placed his feet on the narrow ledge running around the back side of the hotel. He moved his feet slowly and carefully as the sounds of the world were drowned out by the pounding of his heartbeat. Relief made his knees tremble as he reached Weber’s open window and he carefully climbed through, glancing around to make sure that no one was insight. He avoided contact with any of the furniture around the window and crept towards the hotel room safe. In his right hand, he was carrying a small sturdy leather case that he hoped would be large enough.

  Gottfried knelt do
wn beside the safe and licked his lips nervously. His gloved hands were trembling as he reached out and carefully began to enter the combination, mindful of the sounds of the guards outside the door. Part of him was angry that Weber had left the window open after their meeting this morning and angry at himself for noticing while another part was relieved. The safe clicked and he eased the door open. Why hadn’t Weber put the combination of the safe straight into his pocket when they first arrived, then Gottfried wouldn’t have memorized it against his own will.

  His hands were shaking worse now as he pulled out the leather covered case from the safe. He set it on the floor and opened it, needing to see the hammer one more time. The hammer gleamed brightly in the case. Gottfried could feel the electricity slipping past the surface of his skin and leaving standing hairs in its wake. There was power here, it could be felt the instant you got too close. That was the problem.

  He’d been trying to ignore it. All of it. For the last week as they checked over every last inch of the tunnels to make sure there were no more lost treasures, he’d had terrible dreams. The hammer was always at the center of it. There was a whisper at the back of his head urging him to touch it once more, but Gottfried couldn’t obey it. The visions had haunted him, made it impossible to hide from the dark reality of what he knew had to happen. When they’d gone to Oslo to get on the plane, the feelings of dread had only gotten worse.

  Gottfried pulled the hammer from the case and quickly transferred it into his own. The hammer barely fit, but he was able to close and secure the case. He glanced around the room and spotted a small German eagle statue on one of the bookcases. Standing up, he tiptoed across the room and grabbed the statue. He slipped into the larger case and closed it up before carefully sliding it back into the safe. With any luck, the weight would keep Weber from checking inside.

  Sounds from the hallway made his heart jump to his throat and Gottfried stood up with the heavy case in hand. He returned to the window and carefully climbed out onto the ledge once more. Every footfall against the stone sounded too loud and he turned up the collar of his long coat only to almost lose his balance. He grabbed the rail of the fire escape with his right hand and stayed still for a long moment as he fought to recover his breath. Then he eased himself over the rail and almost collapsed. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he began to slowly walk down the fire escape steps, trying to be quiet. Two stories down, his own window was open. There were no soldiers waiting for him as he slipped inside the hotel room. Gottfried turned around and closed the window behind him, releasing a long sigh of relief. His legs were shaking and Gottfried crossed the room to where his trunk was waiting by the door. Setting the case down on top of it, Gottfried looked down at his trembling hands.

  What had he done? The thought was terrifying and cut through the adrenaline rush. He’d stolen from the Third Reich, from the SS and because of a few nightmares. There was a tug in his gut that drew him towards the hammer, but he shook his head and went into the bathroom. Taking off the gloves, Gottfried ran the water over his hands and splashed it on his face. He didn’t dare look at his reflection, too frightened of what he might find in his own eyes. Unease churned in his stomach and he feared he might be ill.

  A knock on the door made him jump. For a moment he couldn’t move, but the knock came again. He forced his feet to work and they carried him to the front door. Gottfried looked nervously down at the case and squeezed his left hand and the gloves within it tightly. Opening the door, Gottfried found only one of the hotel staff.

  “Your car for the train station is here, sir,” the young man said. “Shall I take down your trunk?”

  Gottfried nodded blankly. His heart was finally beginning to slow down but jumped as the young man reached for the case. He grabbed it and forced a little smile. “I’ll keep this with me if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not, sir.”

  As the young man hoisted the trunk onto his cart, Gottfried set down the case and pulled his gloves back on. A leather satchel was on the table by the door and he slung it over his shoulder before picking up the case. It was heavy and he could feel the thrum of electricity still. Gottfried just hoped that no one else could. He followed the young man down to the nondescript black car. Around him people on the street nodded respectfully, reminding him that his rank insignia was clear on his coat. As his trunk was loaded in the car, Gottfried slid into the back seat and sighed softly when no one came bursting out of the hotel.

  Weber would be getting back to his room from his ‘meeting’ with the pretty young woman from the bar any moment now. Hopefully, he’d merely check that the case was in the safe and go about writing his reports. The car began to move and Gottfried clutched at the case on his lap. He could still feel it and almost begged the thing to stop giving off that low energy. No one else was reacting to it and no one else had been shocked by it, but he couldn’t stop feeling it. At least the hammer wasn’t the mythical weight that the legends described.

  They slowly came to a stop and Gottfried looked out to find the train station to his right. Opening the door, he climbed out with the case still tight in his hand while the driver unloaded his trunk. One of the train staff came over and Gottfried pulled out his orders. The man nodded quickly and gestured for the driver to follow him with the trunk. Gottfried followed them at a distance while he looked around the station. It was busy with people coming and going. Patriotic music was wafting through the area through the loudspeakers and the Nazi flag hung overhead. He was back in Germany with all the good and bad that brought.

  “Gottfried!” a voice called over the crowd. “Captain Eckstein.”

  He turned to find Professor Dietrich heading towards him. The man was dressed in a suit that was a bit baggy from his weight loss in the north. There was a smile on his face that Gottfried couldn’t quite return. Their eyes met and Gottfried watched as the smile faded into a slight frown. Swallowing thickly, Gottfried repressed the urge to run.

  “Do you have a private car?” Dietrich asked calmly.

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s speak for a bit on the train. It isn’t due to leave for a bit.”

  There was nothing he could do. His trunk was being loaded and Dietrich gestured him to the end of the car and climbed up in front of him. He waved off one of the attendants who looked towards him. Gottfried nodded and followed Dietrich inside, speaking only to inform the other man of his car number. They found it easily enough and Dietrich sidestepped to let him inside before firmly closing the door behind them. It did little to muffle the sounds of the platform and Hamburg.

  Dietrich was frowning at him. His eyes dropped to the case in his hand knowingly and Gottfried felt the world trying to fall away from him. “That was stupid Gottfried,” Dietrich said, sounding a lot like his grandfather. “I expected more from you.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he forced out only to get a sharp look. “Adalard… I just can’t.” Gottfried was at a loss, uncertain as to how Dietrich seemed to know what he’d done.

  “Tell me you have more of a plan than this?” Dietrich all but begged. The man was looking around them carefully, his eyes suddenly sharper and more alert than Gottfried had ever seen as he scanned the crowd outside the window.

  “I’ve been ordered back to Paris,” he informed the other man. Gottfried inhaled slowly and tried to calm his pounding heart. He wanted to pace and release the nervous energy building up in his limbs, but the train car was far too small.

  “I know.” Dietrich’s voice was gentle and resigned. His shoulders were slumping and Gottfried could see just how worried the other man was.

  “I was going to hide it in the tunnels under Paris, the old mines, and catacombs,” he explained. It sounding like a decent idea. “Not even the locals know their way around down there.”

  Dietrich’s expression changed and he glanced towards the train door with clear worry. Gottfried could do nothing but wait and hope that the SS wasn’t about to arrive. He had a long trip f
rom Hamburg to Paris and there would be plenty of time for something to go wrong.

  “Weber will discover the theft. While you were on a schedule set by the main office they will still be suspicious.”

  “What else can I do?” Gottfried asked. He hoped that the older man had a real suggestion. “It can’t go to Berlin.”

  “I don’t leave for a few more hours,” Dietrich replied. He exhaled slowly and his jaw tightened. “I’ll fake suspicious behavior so that when the theft is discovered they come after me. Maybe even leave Weber a confession.”

  “What?” Utter shock filled Gottfried along with confusion. He had to be hearing wrong. “You can’t be serious, Adalard!”

  “We need to pin it on me,” Dietrich repeated. The other man shook his head and slid a trembling hand into his pocket. “I don’t like the Nazi regime, Gottfried. Never have, but like you and others I’m just trying to survive, but if they get this hammer....” He shuddered. “It will take them time to use it, but they will fight to buy that time and do horrible things.” Gottfried looked at him with sad eyes. “You’ve heard about the camps?”