Read Online The Bones Of Odin (Matt Drake 1) by David Leadbeater - Free Book Online
Authors: David Leadbeater
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forces started to mobilise. The Germans, content until now to lay low in the sleepy town of Gamla Upsalla, geared up and started to follow in Drake’s footsteps.
The other force, a contingent of troops from the Swedish Army’s Elite Forces - the Sarskilda Skyddsgrupen or SSG - continued to watch the Germans, and discussed the odd complication proposed by the three civilians who had just descended into the pit.
They would need to be fully debriefed. By any means necessary.
That is, if they survived what was about to come.
TEN
THE PIT OF THE WORLD TREE, SWEDEN
Drake stooped. The dark passageway had started as a crawl-hole, and was now less than six feet high. The ceiling was rock and dirt, and riddled with big, dangling loops of over-growing grass they had to chop out of the way.
Like tackling a jungle, Drake mused. Only underground.
Some of the tougher vines, he noticed, had already been hacked apart. A shaft of unease ran through him.
They came to a section where the roots were so dense they were forced to crawl again. The going was tough and filthy, but Drake put elbow before elbow, knee before knee, and encouraged the others to follow. When, at one point, even persuasion failed for Ben, Drake turned to bullying.
“At least the temperature’s dropping,” Kennedy muttered. “We must be going down.”
Drake resisted the standard soldierly reply, his eye suddenly caught by something revealed in the light of his torch.
“Look at that.”
Runes, carved into the wall. Odd symbols that reminded Drake of those that decorated Odin’s Shield. Ben’s choked voice echoed up the passage.
“Nordic runes. Good omen.”
Drake shone his light away from them with regret. If only they could read them. The SAS, he thought briefly, would have better resources. Maybe it was time to bring them in.
Another fifty feet, and the sweat poured off him. He could hear Kennedy breathing heavily and cursing that she’d worn her best pant-suit. He heard nothing from Ben at all.
“You ok, Ben? Got your hair tangled on a root?”
“Ha bloody ha. Keep going, you tosser.”
Drake continued crawling through the dirt. “One thing that worries me,” he panted between breaths, “is that ‘many traps’ thing. The Egyptians used to build traps, elaborate ones, to protect their treasures. Why not the Norsemen?”
“Can’t imagine a Viking thinking too hard over a trap,” Kennedy puffed back.
“Dunno,” Ben shouted along the line. “But the Vikings had great thinkers too, you know. Just like the Greeks and the Romans. They weren’t all barbarians.”
A few turns, and the passage started to widen. Another ten feet, and the roof vanished above them. At this point they stretched and took a breather. Drake’s torch picked out the passageway ahead. When he shone it on Kennedy and Ben he laughed.
“Shit, you two look like you’ve just risen from the grave!”
“And I guess you’re used to this crap?” Kennedy waved an arm. “Being SAS and all?”
Not SAS, Drake couldn’t shake the poisoned words. “Used to be.” He said, and walked ahead more quickly now.
Another abrupt turn and Drake felt a breeze on his face. A sense of vertigo hit him like an unexpected clap of thunder, and it was a second before he realised he was standing on a ledge, a cavernous drop below him.
An unbelievable sight greeted his eyes.
He stopped so suddenly that both Kennedy and Ben walked into him. Then, they too, beheld the sight.
“OMFG.” Ben spelled out the title of the Wall of Sleep’s signature track.
The World Tree stood before them in all its glory. It never had been above ground. The tree was inverted, its solid roots delved into the mountain of earth above them, held fast by age and surrounding rock formations, its branches golden brown, its leaves a perennial green, its trunk stretching a hundred feet down into the depths of a gargantuan pit.
Their path became a narrow staircase, cut into the rock
The other force, a contingent of troops from the Swedish Army’s Elite Forces - the Sarskilda Skyddsgrupen or SSG - continued to watch the Germans, and discussed the odd complication proposed by the three civilians who had just descended into the pit.
They would need to be fully debriefed. By any means necessary.
That is, if they survived what was about to come.
TEN
THE PIT OF THE WORLD TREE, SWEDEN
Drake stooped. The dark passageway had started as a crawl-hole, and was now less than six feet high. The ceiling was rock and dirt, and riddled with big, dangling loops of over-growing grass they had to chop out of the way.
Like tackling a jungle, Drake mused. Only underground.
Some of the tougher vines, he noticed, had already been hacked apart. A shaft of unease ran through him.
They came to a section where the roots were so dense they were forced to crawl again. The going was tough and filthy, but Drake put elbow before elbow, knee before knee, and encouraged the others to follow. When, at one point, even persuasion failed for Ben, Drake turned to bullying.
“At least the temperature’s dropping,” Kennedy muttered. “We must be going down.”
Drake resisted the standard soldierly reply, his eye suddenly caught by something revealed in the light of his torch.
“Look at that.”
Runes, carved into the wall. Odd symbols that reminded Drake of those that decorated Odin’s Shield. Ben’s choked voice echoed up the passage.
“Nordic runes. Good omen.”
Drake shone his light away from them with regret. If only they could read them. The SAS, he thought briefly, would have better resources. Maybe it was time to bring them in.
Another fifty feet, and the sweat poured off him. He could hear Kennedy breathing heavily and cursing that she’d worn her best pant-suit. He heard nothing from Ben at all.
“You ok, Ben? Got your hair tangled on a root?”
“Ha bloody ha. Keep going, you tosser.”
Drake continued crawling through the dirt. “One thing that worries me,” he panted between breaths, “is that ‘many traps’ thing. The Egyptians used to build traps, elaborate ones, to protect their treasures. Why not the Norsemen?”
“Can’t imagine a Viking thinking too hard over a trap,” Kennedy puffed back.
“Dunno,” Ben shouted along the line. “But the Vikings had great thinkers too, you know. Just like the Greeks and the Romans. They weren’t all barbarians.”
A few turns, and the passage started to widen. Another ten feet, and the roof vanished above them. At this point they stretched and took a breather. Drake’s torch picked out the passageway ahead. When he shone it on Kennedy and Ben he laughed.
“Shit, you two look like you’ve just risen from the grave!”
“And I guess you’re used to this crap?” Kennedy waved an arm. “Being SAS and all?”
Not SAS, Drake couldn’t shake the poisoned words. “Used to be.” He said, and walked ahead more quickly now.
Another abrupt turn and Drake felt a breeze on his face. A sense of vertigo hit him like an unexpected clap of thunder, and it was a second before he realised he was standing on a ledge, a cavernous drop below him.
An unbelievable sight greeted his eyes.
He stopped so suddenly that both Kennedy and Ben walked into him. Then, they too, beheld the sight.
“OMFG.” Ben spelled out the title of the Wall of Sleep’s signature track.
The World Tree stood before them in all its glory. It never had been above ground. The tree was inverted, its solid roots delved into the mountain of earth above them, held fast by age and surrounding rock formations, its branches golden brown, its leaves a perennial green, its trunk stretching a hundred feet down into the depths of a gargantuan pit.
Their path became a narrow staircase, cut into the rock
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