The Valhalla Prophecy_A Novel

by Andy McDermott

  The snowmobiles rushed towards him. Both riders had indeed switched their guns to their left hands, angling so they could shoot at him from that side. Eddie altered course – and felt the runner on the inside of his turn briefly rise off the ice. If he cut across the mercenaries’ paths hard enough to force them to pass on the other side, making their shots harder, he risked losing control, or even flipping the icerunner over entirely.

  Instead he straightened out – aiming directly at them.

  The leading merc’s gun blazed—

  Eddie hunched down as bullets whipped past. Most went wide, but one hit the raised engine cover with a crack of fibreglass, and another punched through the icerunner’s nosecone, searing between his legs to clang against the aluminium frame beneath his seat.

  He flinched, then recovered, aimed . . .

  The Wildey boomed like a cannon.

  Firing one-handed from a moving vehicle on a rough surface, he didn’t hit the mercenary – but still scored an impact on his ride. The Magnum round shattered the snowmobile’s headlight and flicked broken shards up into the rider’s face. The man jerked in shock, instinctively pulling back from the debris, and swerving into the icerunner’s path.

  Collision course—

  Eddie yanked hard on the steering wheel in a desperate attempt to avert a crash. One of the outriggers came fully off the surface, the icerunner teetering on just two skids as it slithered across the frozen river. He gripped the wheel and raised himself higher, leaning over the cockpit’s side to act as a counterweight.

  The mercenary panicked and yanked at his handlebars. The snowmobile slewed around, caught in an uncontrollable skid—

  He opened his mouth to scream – but the sound never emerged, as the sharply pointed runner on the raised outrigger punched straight through his chest, snatching him backwards off the snowmobile. The extra weight brought the icerunner crashing back down. The body ground over the rough ice like an anchor, hurling the vehicle into a spin.

  The world around Eddie became a blur of white snow and dark trees – and a shape racing right at him, the second snowmobile—

  He fired on pure instinct, the Wildey kicking again in his hand. There was a Doppler-shifted rasp as the vehicle flashed past him – then a crunch of impact, followed a fraction of a second later by an explosion.

  The dead mercenary was wrenched loose from the runner. Eddie released the throttle pedal and held on to the wheel as the tail end shimmied violently, still leaning out of the cockpit to balance the whirling icerunner. The outrigger skipped over the ice, kicking back into the air once, twice . . . then finally landing and staying down. Now pointing backwards, the vehicle ground to a stop.

  Dizzied, Eddie slumped back into the seat. The impaled mercenary was crumpled on the ice about fifty metres away, corkscrewing tracks marking the icerunner’s path. Father away was a mangled heap of burning wreckage. The two snowmobiles had collided and blown up. The second rider had been thrown clear – but not to safety. He too was on fire, smoke billowing from his motionless body.

  Eddie waited for the spinning sensation to subside, then looked downriver. The convoy was retreating into the distance.

  Taking Nina with it.

  Jaw set in determination, he put his foot back on the throttle and brought the icerunner around in pursuit.

  29

  Nina looked through the Volvo’s rear window. Even with three armed and hostile men holding her prisoner, she couldn’t help but crow as the icerunner swung back on course after them, leaving the pillar of black smoke from the smashed snowmobiles in its wake. ‘Ooh, that looked painful. Do you guys get medical? Is there some sort of Blue Cross scheme for goons? I always wanted to know.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up!’ Treynor snarled. ‘He’s catching up! Can’t this thing go any faster?’

  ‘Not unless you want to risk shedding a track,’ Wake shot back. The icerunner was quickly gaining on the 4x4; swapping wheels for tracks had traded speed for off-road ability.

  ‘God damn it!’ The mercenary thought for a moment, then shoved his handgun into a pocket. ‘Watch her,’ he told Tarnowski, reaching into the back of the cabin to collect a P90. He released the safety, then lowered his window. A freezing wind rushed in.

  ‘What’re you gonna do?’ Wake asked.

  ‘What do you think? Take that motherfucker out! Head over to the right so I can get a clean shot.’ Treynor turned around awkwardly in the tight confines, kneeling on the seat to lean out of the open window. ‘Don’t even fucking think of trying anything,’ he warned Nina. ‘You try to nudge me when I shoot, you’ll get the next bullet.’

  ‘I don’t think your bosses would like that,’ she replied.

  Tarnowski sneered. ‘I honestly don’t think they give a fuck. We got other ways to get your blonde friend to do as she’s told besides threatening to shoot you. Just stay still, now.’ He gripped her bound wrists for emphasis.

  Nina glared at him, then looked away. The icerunner was rapidly closing. Eddie had outfought the two men on the snowmobiles, but the 4x4 was a much more stable firing platform, and Treynor was using both hands to aim . . .

  Her heart jumped as she saw that the mercenary had another weapon. There was a knife in a sheath on his belt – and by turning around, he had put it almost within her reach.

  But as long as Tarnowski was holding her wrists, there was no way she could take it.

  She looked back at the icerunner. It was now close enough for her to make out the figure in its cockpit. Treynor had seen him too. ‘Come to papa,’ said the mercenary, taking aim.

  Eddie readied the Wildey again. Even had he not kept count of his shots, he would have been able to tell by the slight shift in its weight and balance that it was no longer fully loaded. Five bullets left, that was all.

  And he wasn’t even sure if he dared use them on the rapidly approaching 4x4. The Wildey’s rounds were powerful enough not just to penetrate the sheet steel bodywork of a car, but to punch all the way through to the other side. If he landed a shot on the SUV, the bullet might also hit Nina.

  The man leaning out of the rear window had no such concerns. He fired a three-round burst. They fell short, kicking up little fountains of ice ahead of the icerunner. It was beyond the P90’s effective range.

  But it would not be for long.

  Eddie moved closer to the right-hand bank, trying to slot in behind the 4x4 so the gunman would lose line of sight, but the Volvo’s driver did the same. The ice became rougher as he neared the shore, vibrations through the runners hammering at the base of his spine. No option but to move back towards the centre – if he hit a protruding rock, it could rip off a skid.

  A burst of bullets tore past. The mercenary was refining his aim as his target drew nearer. If the Englishman didn’t do something, he would be a sitting duck.

  Eddie caught sight of the figures inside the vehicle once more. One was noticeably smaller than the others: Nina – and he realised she was looking at him. He brought up his gun hand, but rather than shoot, he gestured with the Wildey, pointing it downwards . . .

  Tarnowski turned to watch the approaching icerunner, though he still kept his hold on Nina’s arm. ‘Ha!’ he said as he saw their pursuer wave his hand. ‘He daren’t shoot at us – not while we’ve got his woman.’

  Nina knew what Eddie was telling her to do, though. ‘Not while she’s got her head up, you mean.’

  ‘What?’ As Tarnowski glanced at her, she dropped as low as she could in the seat, hunching her chin down against her chest. ‘Hey, wait a—’

  The rear window exploded into fragments.

  Eddie saw Nina’s shadow slip out of sight, and immediately snapped up his gun and fired twice. One of the bullets went high, the other shattering the tailgate window. But he knew in the tiny fraction of a second when the point of impact was visible before the glass disintegrated that he hadn’t hit anyone within, the round landing off to one side.

  It had the effect he’d hoped for, though. The v
ehicle swerved as the shocked driver jerked the steering wheel, throwing the gunman off target as he fired again. Eddie saw his chance and accelerated, swinging the icerunner back behind the off-roader. If he could get close enough before the mercenaries recovered, he might have a clear shot—

  Too slow. The XC90 straightened out, then again pulled towards the right bank. The gunman banged a fist angrily against the 4x4’s side and pushed himself upright.

  He took aim at the Yorkshireman.

  Tarnowski had ducked and flinched when the back window blew out . . .

  Letting go of Nina.

  She saw her chance – and took it, grabbing Treynor’s knife with her zipcuffed hands and yanking it from its sheath. Before either of the mercenaries flanking her could react, she plunged the blade into Treynor’s side.

  He screamed, arching his back in convulsive pain and banging his head against the window frame. Tarnowski tried to grab her, but she spun and slashed the bloodied knife across his palm. He jerked away, clutching his wounded hand.

  Treynor writhed, trying to pull himself back inside, but found Nina blocking him. She glimpsed the chrome handle of the door release behind him, lunged for it, pulled—

  The mercenary’s weight made the door swing outwards – and Nina threw herself against him, barging him into the open. He fell, screaming again as he hit the ice at forty miles per hour and tumbled along behind the Volvo.

  ‘Fucking bitch!’ snarled Tarnowski. She tried to bring up the knife again, but this time he was prepared for her attack. He grabbed her wrist, then used his greater strength to smash her bound hands painfully against her knees until she lost her grip on the blade. It fell to the floor. He drove a brutal blow with his forearm against her face, knocking her back into her seat. Only the thick quilting of his coat saved her from a broken nose.

  ‘What the fuck is going on back there?’ Wake cried, but Tarnowski ignored him, instead reaching over the back seat to grab another P90.

  Eddie saw the mercenary fall from the 4x4, a bright red bloodstain on his coat. ‘Nice one, love,’ he said to himself – only to realise that while the man was down, he definitely wasn’t out. Despite the hard landing, he had slithered to a far less damaging standstill than he would have done on concrete or earth.

  And he had kept hold of his gun.

  Treynor managed to stand, shakily raising the P90 as the icerunner bore down on him. He brought the sights to his eye, locking on to the vehicle’s driver—

  Eddie jerked his foot off the throttle pedal. The icerunner’s tail end shimmied again with the sudden loss of power, threatening to slide out – and he made the threat a reality as he hauled the wheel hard over and threw the vehicle into a spin.

  It skidded around through a hundred and eighty degrees, tearing up chunks of ice as its runners scraped sidelong over the surface and almost flipping over – until Eddie again leaned out to bring it crashing back down on all three skids. The icerunner was now hurtling backwards . . .

  Straight at Treynor.

  Eddie stamped on the pedal. The engine shrieked, the propeller roaring to full speed and turning the mercenary into a red spray as the icerunner ploughed into him. All that was left intact were his legs, from the knees down, which managed to stay upright for a couple of seconds as the decelerating vehicle glided over them before slowly toppling amidst a splattered pool of visceral crimson.

  ‘You’re screwed,’ said Eddie with a grimace. He eased off the throttle and turned the wheel, bringing the icerunner around after the convoy once more.

  The two leading SUVs and the remaining icerunner were now lost to sight behind snow-laden trees around a tight bend in the river. Nina’s XC90 had pulled away again during his grisly encounter with Treynor. He accelerated, following it. There were still two mercs to deal with before he could rescue her; one would be occupied with driving, but the other was still a threat. He readied the Wildey. Three bullets left. Not good.

  Nor was his situation, he realised, as he saw movement in the 4x4—

  ‘Fuck you! Fuck you!’ Tarnowski howled as he let rip with his P90 on full auto through the 4x4’s broken rear window. Nina shrieked and brought up her cuffed arms to protect her face as empty cartridges spat from the gun’s ejection port and bounced around the car’s interior. ‘Come on, you motherfucker! Bring it!’

  ‘Shit!’ Eddie turned hard as a line of bullet impacts raced along the ice towards him. Shots tore into the bodywork behind his seat. A harsh clunk reverberated through the entire vehicle as the engine block took a hit. He dropped the Wildey on to his lap, forced to grab the wheel with both hands to maintain control.

  The gunfire stopped; the mercenary had burned through an entire magazine in mere seconds. But the figure inside the SUV was already reaching for a replacement.

  Or for something more deadly . . .

  Tarnowski snapped open the catches on a green metal box and threw back the lid to reveal its contents.

  Hand grenades.

  He snatched one up and without hesitation yanked out the pin and let the spring-loaded spoon ping free. ‘One, two . . .’ He tossed the grenade through the broken window. ‘Eat that, you fuck!’

  Eddie glimpsed something small and dark bounce along the ice behind the 4x4. He knew instantly what it was, and ducked as he swerved—

  The grenade exploded, scattering shrapnel in all directions and ripping a hole through the ice, broken chunks flying into the air amidst a burst of spray. Steel fragments clacked against the icerunner’s bodywork, but did no more than scratch the paint; he was beyond the explosive’s lethal range.

  He was not beyond the range of its secondary effects, though. A dark lightning bolt lanced through the ice directly ahead with a series of gunshot snaps, water gushing through the crack as his vehicle’s weight caused the frozen slab under it to tip downwards . . .

  Eddie mashed the throttle, the icerunner surging forward – and riding over the newly formed step with a tooth-rattling bang.

  ‘Jesus!’ he yelped as he fought to keep control. The impact had damaged the icerunner’s front skid, the steering now worryingly slack. He wrestled it back into line and angled after the Volvo. The 4x4 was coming up to the river’s sharp bend, swinging wide to take the apex at speed. The mercenary rummaged in the cargo area for another grenade. Eddie recovered his Wildey, hesitating as he checked that Nina still had her head down, and fired.

  This time, he didn’t even manage to hit the SUV, the rough ride throwing off his aim. A bullet wasted – and only two left.

  Tarnowski flicked his arm. Another dark spheroid hit the ice—

  The grenade detonated an instant after impact, blasting a second hole in the frozen surface. The results this time were more severe, cracks racing outwards to meet up with the fractures from the first explosion. The ice sheet splintered, no longer a solid expanse but a broken mess of crazy paving.

  Eddie saw the danger spreading across his path and tried to change course. The icerunner was slow to respond, and when it finally turned, one of the outriggers lurched upwards again. With a panicked grimace, he leaned out of the cockpit to counterbalance it. The wayward skid slammed back down on to the ice.

  A third grenade – and the whole ice sheet shattered and churned in the Volvo’s wake as it rounded the bend, splitting the frozen river from shore to shore.

  Eddie was about a hundred metres behind the 4x4. He knew at once that the icerunner would never make it across the broken surface without plunging into the freezing water below. But it wasn’t designed to travel over the rock-strewn riverbank either. He couldn’t continue the pursuit.

  Unless—

  He remembered the tight bend from the journey upriver. It was practically a hairpin, doubling back on itself on either side of a low ridge.

  A ridge covered in deep snow.

  He looked up at it. There was a gap in the trees – maybe just wide enough for the icerunner to fit through . . .

  ‘Oh, what the bloody hell am I doing?’ he moaned as so
me subconscious part of his mind made a snap decision and jerked the steering wheel. The icerunner slewed around, aiming for the ridge. He mashed the throttle pedal down, the bloodstained propeller’s rasp almost deafening.

  Off the ice – and the vehicle jolted savagely as the runners barked over stones on the shore. It hit the slope, hurtling up towards the trees—

  The gap wasn’t wide enough.

  ‘Shiiiit!’ Eddie wailed, but it was too late to stop.

  Both outriggers sheared off as they hit the conifers’ trunks. The icerunner sailed over the top of the little ridge as if leaping from a ski jump, then plunged back down on the far side. He glimpsed the 4x4 approaching from the right, but all he could do was cling on for dear life . . .

  The icerunner smacked down on the frozen river. The front skid collapsed, dropping the vehicle on to its belly – and the propeller, now with nothing holding it above the ground, carved through the ice behind the skidding wreck.

  ‘Whoa!’ yelled Wake as he saw the channel being sliced across his path. He stamped on the brake. The SUV juddered, its four rubber treads rasping over the ice. Nina and Tarnowski were both thrown forwards.

  The Volvo slithered towards the line of black water . . . then stopped, its front tracks halfway over the ragged edge.

  Eddie fought to hold himself in the cockpit, arms and legs braced against its sides as the battered icerunner started to roll over—

  The blades tore away from the propeller’s hub. What was left of the vehicle dropped back upright with a crash and ground to a halt.

  He let out a relieved breath, then scrambled from the cockpit on to the ice. The propeller had gouged an almost perfectly straight line about four feet wide across the river.

  The SUV sat precariously right on the edge of the ice.

  Nina raised her head. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but she’d seen something flash in front of the SUV before Wake jammed on the brakes in panic. The Volvo had now stopped—