The Sentinel (21 page)

As the axe is pulled back up, Willem, Jakob and I waste no time fleeing out of the cave and following Chase as he slides down the hillside.

“Chase!” Willem shouts as he bounds closer to the now still figure.

As much as I still don’t like, or trust Chase, I sigh with relief when he picks up his head and curses. Willem yanks the skinny man to his feet and is rewarded with a shout of pain. Chase clenches the arm that held the now destroyed shield.

“Is it broken?” I ask.

“I don’t think so,” Chase says, giving his arm a cursory wiggle. He winces, but appears to have no trouble moving it.

“Hurry,” Jakob says, stopping next to the group. “Torstein comes.”

Four sets of eyes look up the rocky slope as Torstein jumps down from his perch above the cave entrance. The dead man is massive, at least a foot taller than Willem, but he lacks the bulk he might have once had. His body looks dried and withered. Of course, he seems to have no trouble wielding that giant axe. It, along with the horned helmet and tattered cape, make him look like something straight out of Chase’s role-playing games. In fact, as I look at our group, me with the hooded cloak, Willem with the sword—we’re all starting to look like characters out of a fantasy novel.

Torstein takes a step toward us and it’s clear he’s not going to be sprinting any time soon. His joints are stiff, and I swear I can hear them grind as he takes another step. He won’t be able to catch us in an outright race, which is good, but he’s also not going to get tired, need to sleep, or get hungry.

Well, maybe hungry—he did eat Eagon and Jenny after all—but I don’t think he needs to eat. Not like the living do, anyway.

We turn and run, not really sure where we’re headed, except that it’s away from the axe wielding Draugr. The decline takes us to a beach with gray sand and a stand of stone obelisks, rising out of the sand like tree trunks. I approach one of the natural structures and run a hand over it. The stone is smooth, polished by eroding tides. I can’t see the water, but I can hear it, somewhere beyond the tall stones.

With Torstein descending the hillside behind us at a slow, but steady pace, I step into the labyrinth of stone.

“We can’t go in there,” Chase says. “We don’t know where it goes.”

“I’m pretty sure it leads to the ocean,” I say, motioning to my ears.

“I know that,” he says, “but—”

“There isn’t time to debate, Chase,” I say and point to the lumbering Draugr following us. “As long as he can see us, he can follow us. And we’re eventually going to get tired. So unless you want to live in a B-horror movie where the casually strolling psycho killer can catch victims running full speed, I suggest we use these stones for cover and then follow the coast one way or the other before cutting back to the center, grabbing our gear and getting off this hellhole of an island.”

“There’s still a fifty-fifty chance he’ll follow us.”

“Chase,” I say, my patience gone. “Shut-up.” I enter the field of stones.

“Follow the Raven,” Jakob says, giving Chase a shove. It’s the first time I’ve seen the old captain lose his patience. He’s lost his best friend and his ship. He’s been walking and running on an injured ankle without much complaint. In fact, I forgot all about his ankle until now. I glance back and see just the slightest limp in his gait.

Chase obeys, perhaps not wanting to be left behind, or maybe just eager to please whatever captain is giving him orders.

Willem stands outside the field for a moment, holding his sword. He looks like he’s going to do something stupid and noble like waiting for Torstein so the two distant relatives can duke it out and settle things the Viking way. Instead, Willem just shakes his head and follows us.

Just fifty feet in, we lose sight of the island behind us. After another fifty, we reach the edge of the ocean. The rocks shrink in size, looking more like stalactites fallen from a cave ceiling, worn thin at the base where the water constantly eats them away. The view of the ocean and the blue sky full of white, soft clouds belies the horror of this place. The stark beauty is just a mask. Something sinister lives in the frozen north. Something old. Something evil.

I frown at the view, taunted by it. This might actually be a nice place to die, to be buried, but not like this. Not eaten alive, or turned into an ever-living abomination. Something rises from the ocean in the distance. A plume of steam reveals a whale.

Fucking whales
, I think.
I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you
. If I make it out of this alive, I determine to become a whaler and hunt the giants into extinction. I’m going to eat whale steaks, light my fucking house with whale oil, and open a fast food chain in Japan that sells nothing but deep-fried whale nuggets.

“What’s that?” Chase asks, pointing at the ocean.

I’m completely annoyed that the whale-loving idiot doesn’t recognize them and I don’t bother to follow his pointed finger to its target. “They’re whales.”
Asshole
.

I’m near screaming as the frustration of everything we’ve encountered and survived starts to weigh on me. All because of a pretty view.

“Not them,” Chase says. He takes my head in his hands and I nearly shove my hand down his throat and rip out his heart. But he shifts my gaze just enough so that I see what he’s talking about.

A swirl of water, like a whale’s “footprint” reveals something rising. It’s not a whale. Too close. Too shallow. It could be a walrus, which wouldn’t be good, but we could lose it in the maze, no problem.

When the thing rises from the ocean dripping gouts of water and trailing a mass of seaweed, I’m not sure what I’m looking at. But then the details resolve and I stare into the empty gaze of a bald headed, tunic clad, Viking Draugr. This one’s skin is loose, probably from soaking in the ocean, but it’s a sickly green color and hangs in flaccid sheets that reveal he used to be a man of some bulk. The loose skin covers shriveled muscles, taut sinews and old bones. In fact, its left arm is exposed and I can see gleaming white bones and shifting ligaments. The thing is like a living puppet. But it’s loose, unlike Torstein, and it can move much faster. It charges through the water, slowed by the surf.

This is a trap
, I think, but I never get to reveal my thoughts. Our group flees back into the maze, confused, separated, and inside of a few seconds—

—lost.

31

Somewhere, Chase screams. I think he must have been caught and killed, but then he shouts a warning, “There are more of them!”

Before I can heed his warning, I’m struck from the side and slammed into one of the stone spires. I right myself in time to see a short Draugr picking itself up, just a few feet away. The thing is dressed in brown, tattered leather and has long braided hair, partially peeled away from its skull. A double braided beard wiggles at its chin as the hungry mouth snaps open and closed, filling the air with the
click
,
click
,
click
of chomping teeth.

My head spins from the impact and I struggle to get up. The Draugr, who feels no pain, has no trouble hopping back to its fur wrapped feet. It charges again, white-spotted tongue extended, ready to inject my body with its parasitic youth.

I force myself up, but the world spins around me as my head throbs in pain. I fall back to one knee, unable to move my legs. With the short Draugr just five feet away, I whip out my Glock and fire two shots toward the thing’s head. Either the rounds have no effect, or I’ve missed.

The gun is knocked from my hand as the Draugr lunges.

I clench my eyes shut.

I hear the impact, but never feel it.

My eyes pop open and I see Willem atop the Draugr’s back. He must have tackled it at the last moment. He raises the Viking sword above his head and brings it down hard, splitting the short Draugr’s head like a melon. There’s a grating slurp as he withdraws the blade and prepares to strike again. But the monster doesn’t move.

Clinging to the stone tower, I pull myself up and tuck my handgun back into the waist of my pants. We’re surrounded by the tall stones. I think I see movement in the maze. Flashes of people. Of Draugar. But it could just be my spinning vision. I jump when Willem appears at my side and puts an arm around my back, supporting some of my weight.

“Can you move?” he whispers, looking into the maze with eagerness in his eyes. He doesn’t want to run, I realize. He wants to find his father.

I nod and say, “I’m fine. Go.”

He lets go of my back, but despite my best efforts, my legs start to buckle. I claw at the stone, dragging my nails across the polished surface, trying to stay upright. My fall doesn’t stop until Willem catches me.

He pulls me up close, squeezing me tight enough to hurt my ribs. He looks back into the stone labyrinth with sad eyes.

“Leave me,” I say. “He’s your father.”

“My father would never leave you,” he says. “Neither will I.”

He’s right, I think. I can’t picture the old man ever leaving a damsel in distress, even if there was a chance Willem would die. These Greenlanders have honor in them, or perhaps sexism. Either way, Willem isn’t about to leave my side, or endanger my life.

“Chase! Jakob!” I shout as loud as I can. “Get to the ruins! We’ll meet you there!”

I hear a distant, indistinct reply from Chase, but nothing from Jakob. A flash of green weaving through the stones catches my attention. My shouting attracted some attention. “The green one’s coming.”

We turn and hobble away, moving as quickly as we can, which isn’t very fast. I do my best to help, but every time I push off with my feet, I head in the wrong direction, betrayed by my distorted equilibrium. If not for the stones, the big Draugr would have probably caught us by now.

Willem changes tactics and throws me over his shoulder. While this arrangement is very uncomfortable for me, we make much better time and soon get clear of the stone spires. The beach widens, but it’s now covered in large round boulders.

This looks familiar, I think, though it’s hard to tell while being jostled up and down. I try to determine where we are, but my train of thought derails when the floppy-skinned Draugr emerges from the stone forest and locks his white eyes on mine. As he charges at us, I see that he carries a large, two-handed mallet shrouded with seaweed. I can’t imagine Willem fending this thing off with just the sword. I have the gun still, but can’t trust my aim. Not with my vision swimming.

“He’s coming!” I shout, head turned down toward the sand.

Willem tries to pick up the pace, but the surge only lasts a moment. I can feel him weakening under my weight. We’re not going to outrun that thing, I think. Then I see something that gives me an idea.

“Willem, stop!”

He slows and says, “What?” sounding incredulous.

“Look,” I say, pushing off him. He puts me down. I’m still woozy, but the world isn’t spinning anymore. I stagger a few feet back and point out the trail of footprints in the sand. ‘This is the way we came. To get the Zodiac engine.”

“So?”

“So the other engine might still be there,” I say. “A one hundred horsepower blade could come in handy. At the very least, we might be able to hide in the boulders.

He looks into the field of boulders, his eyes following the path of our footprints, then back up to the approaching Draugr.

Every second of indecision allows the monster to get closer. As adrenaline begins to clear my mind, I remember that I’ve taken charge on more than one occasion thus far. I’m the fucking Raven, after all. I take Willem by the shirt and drag him toward the boulders and the possibility of a modern day weapon.

We follow our footprints through the maze. If the parasites operating the Draugr’s body have as much intelligence as they seem to, it will have no trouble following our path, too.

The crashing of waves signifies our arrival at the shore. The destroyed Zodiac has been washed ashore, its engine removed by Willem and I, and one of its two pontoons flattened. But the second mauled Zodiac is nowhere to be seen.

“It’s gone!” Willem says, sounding defeated.

I climb up a boulder and scan the area. I quickly spot the Zodiac and feel a glimmer of hope. It’s short-lived. The Zodiac shifts and I realize it’s not resting on the beach, it’s floating in a bed of seaweed, forty feet from shore. Out of reach.

Before I can curse our bad luck, a flash of green catches my eye. The Draugr is here! And Willem hasn’t seen it yet.

Fear flashes in my eyes, alerting Willem to the danger, but the hammer is already arcing toward his head. Without thought, I replicate Willem’s earlier dive-tackle rescue. I manage to knock the hammer off course—it smashes a six-inch deep divot into the sand instead of Willem’s head—but I don’t land atop the giant and smash his brains. I bounce off the large, strong body. I reach out and grasp hold of something soft and pliable, hoping to bring the thing down with me and give Willem a chance to finish it off.

I feel a brief tug as the fabric goes taut, but I keep falling. A loud tearing sound fills the air. I fall in a heap on the sand, covered by a blanket of soft, slimy—oh god. A triangle of hair covers the center of the sheet, and to the side…a nipple. I’ve peeled the skin right off it!

I kick out from under the blanket of skin, more disgusted than afraid, and wish I’d stayed hidden beneath it. The Draugr turns to face me, its insides revealed. There are ancient strands of muscle covered in some kind of oozing film. I see organs, shrunken, but still there, and pulsing with the motion of thousands of white larvae-like parasites. I’ve heard that in the future, people will have colonies of nanite robots living in our bodies, destroying viruses, curing cancer and modifying our genetic code. This looks like a natural version of that symbiosis, except the nanobots are controlling body and mind, and have an insatiable drive to propagate the species.

Scrambling backwards, my hand hits something rubbery and pliable. My mind still on the hideous skin, I shriek and yank my hand away. But there’s nothing to fear this time. It’s the Zodiac’s inflated pontoon. I push myself over it, glad to have something between me and the Draugr, even if it is an insignificant obstacle.