A/N: This is a sequel to the Magnificent Seven and the Tablet of Destiny.
s/12910866/1/The-Magnificent-Seven-and-the-Tablet-of-Destiny
Chapter One:
Brisingamen
SOMEWHERE IN NORDAUSLANDET, SVALBARD NORWAY
1935
There were moments when Ezra Standish thought deeply about his life and the choices he made to reach the present day. He wondered if the spiral had begun after his discharge from the military or by his ill-conceived notions of living a normal existence. Living the life of John Q Public had always been a pipe dream Ezra nursed after spending so many years being dragged by Maude cross country in pursuit of the perfect grift or the even more elusive big-score. Yet upon achieving it, Ezra felt as if he had slipped on a skin that did not quite fit. Being a Wall Street broker never felt right to him, even when he achieved some measure of success.
Perhaps the course of his life was decided when he chose to join the army like a boy running away to the circus. Suffering traumas he would tell no one, not even his best friend, Ezra fled to the waiting arms of the recruitment office to get back at Maude whose schemes had inadvertently sacrificed his innocence for her own checkered choices. Yet, even as the thought crossed his mind, Ezra dismissed it. He would never regret joining the army.
As terrible as the Great War had been, being a soldier led him to the men who would become his family, who like himself were misplaced in the world and found brotherhood in the trenches of France. They embraced everything he was and brought out the very best in him, making use of the heart most people thought was cold and mercenary. Together, they had saved the world and Ezra would rather die than be anywhere else than standing alongside them in a fight.
Although this sentiment was the furthest thing from his mind since at this present moment he was hanging upside down over a pit of sharp stakes.
"This is entirely your fault," Ezra complained as he stared down sharpened spikes, their piercing points staring right back at him with almost menacing glee.
Nathan Jackson who was suspended right next to him, arms tied behind his back and the rope around his ankles keeping him from certain death, let out an exasperated groan. "Am I gonna be listening to you bitch about this all the way to thePearly Gates?"
"Pearly Gates?" Ezra gave him a look. "I think you overestimate our chances of meeting St Peter. We are both more likely to be sipping vile vinegar with Satan."
"Never gonna happen. I know I'm gonna go to Heaven."
Despite their precarious situation, Ezra felt the need to query this line of reasoning.
"Mr Jackson, you have as much chance as getting past St Peter as I do. Aside from having no shame in your numerous attempts to deceive your best friend, you are as prone to excess as I am and do not think your ability to heal gets you in good standing with the Almighty. Your bedside manner is as comforting as sandpaper in an outhouse."
"Don't worry Ezra," Nathan flashed him a grin. "I'll vouch for ya."
Ezra rolled his eyes wondering why he bothered with Nathan and then remembered, oh yes, he's my best friend.
"You realise if we had simply followed my plan to cause a convenient explosion, there would have been no need for us to be dangling here like the titular damsel in the Perils of Pauline."
Nathan was busy studying the darkened cavern they were in, trying to see the faces he knew were there in the shadows observing them with fascination and suspicion. "Hey, don't be calling me no white woman named Pauline. By the way, is that the last time you went to a movie?"
"I believe the emergence of film will lead to the ruination of mankind," Ezra said haughtily, realising now Nathan's attention was elsewhere and trying to see what it was that captured the healer's interest. "What is it that has captured your attention so completely Mr Jackson?"
Nathan saw the faces stepping into the light of the torches hanging against the cavern walls and noted the new arrivals were no longer staring at them as if he and Ezra were invaders that ought to be killed. In fact, their captors appeared fascinated rather than fearful. The healer was not entirely certain if this was a good thing.
"They're coming back."
"This does not bode well for our situation," Ezra pointed out.
"You know, this is not the way I thought it was going to go if I ever ran into a village of women," Nathan remarked as he continued his upside-down view of their captor's approach. "Then again, I also pictured them all looking like Dorothy Lamour."
"What is your fascination with women in grass skirts...Madam!" Ezra snapped when one of the women, prodded him in the ribs with the blunt end of her spear. "Kindly watch where you are jabbing me with that weapon. I do not wish to be punctured any sooner than I have to be."
Unlike the lovely Miss Lamour, the women of this remote tribe Gunlod found in the depths of the wilderness that was Nordauslandet on one of the two Norwegian archipelagos were very much a product of their Nordic origins. With white gold hair and blue eyes, they were the purest example of Nordic stock and their appearance, despite their furs and weapons, were explanation enough of why Chris Larabee had made Buck Wilmington stay on the Darlin' Millie.
In response to his demand, she jabbered something to her companion, also a goddess in gold, speaking in a language that flowed like Norweigian but bore no markers to anything he could understand. After a moment, her companion produced what resembled a fishing gaff to snag him by the belt so he could be pulled towards them, away from the pit.
"Mr Jackson," Ezra said warily as the women drew him to them like a slab of meat they had selected for the butchering. "I have a bad feeling about this."
So did Nathan but he was not about to tell Ezra that. Instead, he started working the ropes behind his back, attempting to unlock the mechanism concealed beneath his shirt sleeve. Having been inspired by the contraption Ezra had hidden beneath his sleeve for his derringer, Nathan thought it might be a good idea to have similar protection with his weapon of choice, a flick knife.
"Just stay calm," Nathan warned, his tone devoid of its usual flippancy as he saw the women drag Ezra to them.
"I am unable to do anything else," Ezra grumbled when suddenly, one of the ladies reached for his mouth and lifted his upper lift to examine his teeth. To his horror, the other lady in attendance removed her fur-lined mittens and began pawing him, first running her palms across his chest and then moving to a decidedly more intimate location which had Ezra tensing at her touch.
"Madam," Ezra's voice escaped him in a squeak. "I would ask you to refrain from squeezing those like fruit, they are as ripe as they are ever going to be."
Nathan who realised now their intentions were towards his best friend, reminded himself this was not the time to laugh even as he worked to free his hands behind his back. However, he couldn't help making at least one jibe at the gambler's expense.
"Ezra, I think you just got engaged."
"Who does he think he's talking to? A goddamn teenager? Don't tell me I'd lose my head in a colony of gorgeous ladies, all strong, athletic, blond, blue-eyed, who ain't never seen a man before..."
Buck Wilmington paused a moment, a scene right out of some sybarite fantasy formed before his eyes. In his mind's eye, the women were plentiful and waiting to be sampled, each of them, like fine wine. These blond angels would prance around him, dressed in furs, with luminescent skin, paying him the kind of attention you wouldn't get even in the best house in the world (or France), with their sultry eyes and full lips...
What was he talking about again?
Shaking the fantasy out of his mind, Buck allowed it to evaporate into the glacial plains before him as a flock of penguins listened sympathetically as he sat on a snowbank, waiting for the others to return. As he did so, Buck lamented his fate, even though he was accustomed of being left behind to wait for their return, usually being chased by whomever they managed to piss off in the attempt to retrieve whatever object had been commissioned for return.
However, after learning the details surrounding the particular bauble they were commissioned to retrieve, Buck was more than willing to lend a hand. Especially after he learned the object's guardians were an isolated tribe of women in the wilderness of Svalbard. Until Chris Larabee, his oldest friend, with whom he shared countless adventures, whose life he'd saved on numerous occasions, ordered him to stay behind.
"He doesn't trust me!" Buck ranted to the Emperor penguin who appeared to cock his head as if he shared Buck's incredulity. "He thinks I'm going to completely lose my head over a bunch of women. I mean sure, I'll probably be a little distracted..."
The penguin's expression was sceptical.
"Okay," Buck threw up his hands. "A lot distracted. But if I'm distracted, it ain't got nothing to do with a tribe full of sex-starved women. Actually," Buck started to say when he paused and looked around to see no one in sight. The last thing he needed was any of his friends to listen in on what he was about to confide to the wingless confidantes before him. Fortunately, only the Millie sat behind him, already witness to more debauchery than any aircraft in existence, remained indifferent to anything he said.
"Actually, " Buck resumed once he was certain the coast was clear. "There is this one gal I met recently. Prettiest face I ever saw and she does things to a guitar that's practically indecent. It feels like each note she plays is a stroke against your skin. Now I know she likes me, she's playing all hard to get in front of everyone, but we've got something special between us, I can feel it. Although for some crazy reason though, she's fighting it. I suppose I can understand it, I mean she wouldn't be the first gal whose life got turned upside down because of me. I mean you know what women are like don't you?"
The penguin was in mid-nod when the diminutive bird and the rest of its flightless companions, quickly vacated the area. Their small bodies waddled across the snow and ice with far more speed than Buck gave credit to such a poorly designed organism.
"Hey, I thought we were talking!" Buck called out when suddenly, he heard a low growl behind him.
Turning around slowly, he gaped at the lumbering form of the snow-white polar bear who had heard his comments about Inez Recillos, the new owner of Paloma's bar and appeared to be affronted on behalf of all of womankind. The beast's head moved up and down, sizing him up as a potential meal and once again, Buck cursed Chris Larabee because he suspected this blond female covered in fur was not likely to be half as much fun as the tribe the others were encountering at this moment.
The Millie was within running distance and Buck hoped to high hell he could keep ahead of the behemoth who could crack his head with the ease of a peanut shell between those formidable looking jaws. As it was, the bear was eyeing him cautiously, uncertain what kind of creature he was. Buck supposed out here, in one of the most remote parts of the world, humans were scarce and it was very possible this bear had never seen a man before. It was this uncertainty that kept the beast from charging.
Slowly, he took a step back, aware he was going to have to carry out some fancy footwork to outrun this child of Ursus. The bear did not take Buck's departure well and felt the need to further discuss the matter as its massive body sprung into action, moving with a great deal more speed than a creature its size ought to possess, to give the pilot chase.
"Aw shit!" Buck exclaimed as he started running, racing across the snow with six hundred pounds of fur and bone shattering teeth following him. As the pilot ran for his life, he was certain with the way his luck was, the bear was probably a woman too.
"Gotta say," Vin Tanner remarked, watching Buck's dance with the polar bear from his vantage point on top of a mountain glacier some two thousand yards away, "Buck can move when there's a fire lit under his ass, or when the biggest dang bear I've ever seen is chasing him."
Both he and Josiah were observing through their binoculars respectively, the progress of their comrade as he evaded the bear in pursuit. Buck was weaving through snow banks and trying not to slip on the icy ground as he navigated the area where the Millie had landed, attempting to reach the door to the aircraft. Despite their appearance of outward calm at their friend's predicament, Vin's free hand was already reaching for the M1 Garand rifle lying next to him.
From this distance, he could put down the critter easily enough but Vin was loathed to do that to any animal until there was no other recourse. Even though the thing was making Buck run like a frightened chicken, (something Vin intended to bring up with the pilot later), the sharpshooter could not deny how magnificent the beast looked. He'd run across brown bears and Kodiaks in his time and while they were pretty damn big, the thing chasing Buck was impressive.
"Think he's gonna slip?" Vin inquired as he saw Buck's ungainly step as the pilot jumped over a mound of snow.
"Nah," Josiah shook his head, "the man has jumped out of more bedroom windows, shimmied down drain pipes and cleared houses in the dead of night without wearing a seat full of buckshot," the one-time seminary student paused and flashed Vin a grin at that remark, "he can keep ahead of that critter."
Vin uttered a short laugh before lowering the binoculars, replacing it with the sight of his rifle. "I better keep an eye on him just in case. Anything happens to Buck, we might get stranded here and I got plans with Alex next week. She's got some vacation days from doctor school."
Josiah suppressed a little smile, glad to see the young couple was making it work despite the distance between them. Since their meeting almost two months ago, Vin and Alexandra Styles had made an effort to keep in touch, turning the blazing passion of their affection towards each other into a slow burn stretching from one end of the country to the other. There were phone calls and letters exchanged and when the seven's jobs gave them the opportunity to stopover in New York, the rest of the seven were accustomed to Vin disappearing to spend time with his doctor.
"True," Josiah conceded the point. "JD's been learning fast but I don't think I trust him to take the Millie up in the air on his own if Buck gets eaten."
While Vin's attention was focussed on Buck's immediate problem, Josiah spared a look in the opposite direction at the tether line that stretched across the chasm from the edge of the glacier they were presently occupying, to an even older formation on the other side of the drop. The harsh winds had shifted enough snow to cover their tracks, Josiah knew the path they had taken and followed it to the small fissure in the face of the mountain, providing them entry into the enclave where the prize they sought would be found.
There was no sign of Chris Larabee, JD Dunne, Ezra Standish or Nathan Jackson. All he could see was the brittle arctic wind sweeping across the mountaintop, making the snow on the ground shimmer like ripples across a pond. The wind was whistling in his ears and Josiah felt inordinately grateful for the thermal undergarments and cold weather gear protecting them from the sub-zero temperatures.
"How's he doing?" Josiah turned back to Vin.
"Oh he's doing alright," Vin said squinting through the rifle sight, "he's staying ahead of the critter, he even looks like he's trying to talk it into leaving him alone."
"He's practising his charm for Inez," Josiah could help but comment.
This drew another short laugh from Vin, who despite the levity was poised to put a bullet through the bear's eye if it got any closer to Buck than he liked. As it stood, the big man was keeping ahead of the thing and the Darlin' Millie's main door was only a few feet away.
"Well, he's having the same luck with this bear that he's having with Inez."
Since Inez Recillos had assumed control of Paloma's, their favourite watering hole, following the death of her father Roberto, Buck had been smitten by the lovely Latin beauty who was one of the most stunning women the seven had ever seen. However, the lady was not only beautiful but had a fiery temperament that was more than a match for Buck's smarmy charm. It also appeared she had met more than one Buck Wilmington in her time and as a result was completely prepared for all of Buck's less than subtle advances. The lady's stubbornness to yield had created an equally fierce desire on Buck to win her over and their verbal foreplay the last two month was more entertaining than that Bob Hope fella on the radio.
"Any sign of Chris and the others?" Vin inquired, still watching Buck. At this point, he would not be removing his finger from the trigger of his rifle until the pilot was inside the Millie.
"No," Josiah remarked glancing at the fissure again. "But I can't imagine it would be much longer now."
The statue was carved out of ice but appeared more like diamond in the dim light of the torch.
It stood fifteen feet tall, a few feet from the cavern in which it was sculpted, a construct that could not exist anywhere but in this cold place. The carved image was definitely female, astride a boar. She was a majestic representation of all womankind, the preternatural mother of all. Her clothes what he could make out of it was of a regal bearing, a queen for the ages. This was the Norse goddess Freya, the patron deity of the women who lived on this island.
There was a good reason the tribe of Gunlod had remained isolated for so long. Like the Amazons, the society of women had started out as high-priestesses for the Norse goddess Freya. Some of the research JD Dunne had found while researching the artifact they were here to claim, implied this lost tribe of women were the inspiration for the famous Valkyries of legend. It made reasonable sense that Freya would entrust her sacred belongings to them to protect.
As Chris Larabee stared at it, he felt a certain amount of guilt at what he and JD were about to do but knew this was a necessary evil of the job. The Brisingamen or 'the Brising necklace was hidden somewhere in this cavern and the seven had been charged by the Museum of Natural History at the University of Oslo, to recover the artifact before Nazi treasure hunters set their sights upon it. In the last two months, Chris had been hearing stories of German expeditions steamrolling competitors to acquire such treasures and the director of the museum, Oddvar Bjornstad, wanted the necklace in his possession before it disappeared into a vault at Berchtesgaden.
"Okay kid," Chris turned to JD and saw the younger man aiming a camera in the direction of the statue. Lately, JD had taken to carrying around the Kodak 620, taking snapshots of some of the places they had been. He supposed on this occassion, capturing the moment served some purpose, considering what they were about to do.
JD took several shots of the statue, just as cognisant about their next action and felt the need to record the moment for posterity. Lowering the camera, he saw Chris waiting for him patiently and quickly apologised.
"Sorry Chris," he said sheepishly.
"No problem," Chris replied and reached into his pack, producing the cans of salt they would need for the work ahead.
JD put away the camera into his satchel and did the same, retrieving the cans of salt in his own backpack a second later. As they approached the sculpture and began scattering the salt across the ice, watching the substance quickly eat into the statue with the same effect as corrosive acid on flesh. The effect was instantaneous and they stood back to watch the statue of Freya, which stood for so many centuries, unaccosted, melt before their eyes.
"I hate doing this," Chris grumbled. "This thing stood the test of time until we came along."
As Freya's features melted into sludge and then water, the floor of the cavern became soaked with the expanding puddle. The two men watched solemnly, the desecration they were committing, knowing if the Nazis became aware of the Brisingamen, they were likely to do a hell of a lot worse than simply melting the ice in this ancient ice sculpture.
It took only a few minutes for the sculpture to completely disintegrate, covering the floor with broken chunks of ice and slush, to say nothing about the brackish water seeping into the rough, icy ground to reveal the entrance to the underground chamber where the artifact was kept.
"There it is," Chris gave JD a look of approval. "Just like you translated. The gateway to Freya's Vault."
JD felt a surge of pride that overcame the destruction of the sculpture, at Chris's compliment. He always felt ten feet tall whenever the leader of the seven gave him his due.
"Thank God," JD replied. "I would have hated to destroy the sculpture for nothing."
"You and me both," Chris agreed and took a step forward towards the entrance and the steps descending into the earth below. "Come on, let's get this done."