Chapter Three
Pursuit
Jason stared at the artifact inside their hotel room in Fludir.
It was not the first time Jason had found himself doing this since the artifact had come into his possession, or precisely since he had liberated it from the excavation site amidst the violence that had almost cost their lives. Despite being able to see only a small portion of the object that remained largely encased in its fossilized shell, Jason thought it was still beautiful. He found himself becoming lost in the facets of crimson and knew subconsciously that even though it appeared to be a ruby; it had not always been so. Years of entombment had dulled its beauty, turned it into something forgotten and dark. This potent belief remained in Jason's mind and would not be denied no matter what his eyes were telling him.
Those men, no, those things, had wanted this.
They had killed for it. Eric's interest in the object went no further than why it was important enough to cost the lives of Petra Tebben and her colleagues. However, there was something gnawing away in the pit of Jason's stomach that told him that the artifact was far more important than they could possibly imagine. Petra Tebben was right about this being the find of a lifetime but for reasons Jason could not explain, he knew it was not in the way she envisioned.
He had not told Eric about what he had seen, how his struggles to free himself from one of the team's killers had yielded the discovery of those terrible red eyes and led him to the realization that what had almost taken his life, was not human. He could not bring himself to tell Eric because the journalist would tell him he was insane. Jason was not that far from thinking it himself. So much of what had happened in the last twenty-four hours had seemed incredible even for one whom had traveled the world and seen some rather astonishing things in his short lifetime. When they had emerged from the mouth of the dormant volcano, Eric and Jason had done what they could to disable the lift device that had brought them to the surface. They hoped that it would provide the time needed to escape their pursuers. Eric had even gone so far as to sabotage the starter motor in the hydrostatic snow cat that the assailants had used reach the Temple Glacier.
When they reached the station where they had hired their own snow cat, Eric and Jason had discovered the place to be deserted. Although they could find no evidence of bodies, Eric was certain that the assassins of the archaeology team had been here because there was every sign that the station's inhabitants had made a hasty departure. Whether or not that was that departure included the mortal plane was a question they had little time to ponder since Eric was determined to make it back to civilization and alert the authorities of what had transpired. However, what Eric feared most Jason suspected, even if the older man had not voiced the concern, was the coincidental timing of the assassins' arrival.
Had they been sent been to steal the artifact from its discoverers or silence the team and the journalists who were about to reveal its existence to the world?
If it was the former and the assassins believed that they were members of the archaeological team who had merely escaped their clutches, then it was possible for Eric and Jason to use the precious time this misconception had afforded them to find a way out of their predicament. However if it were latter, which Eric believed to be the case since the assassins arrived soon after he and Jason, then the enemy knew exactly who they were and would be hunting for them even now.
It was with this concern in mind that Eric had chosen their a small guesthouse fifty miles outside of Fludir, a community south of the Koljur Pass that led to the Temple Glacier and central Iceland as their hiding place. The guesthouse sat in the heart of geothermal activity in the region and was often used by travellers visiting the sights of Gullfoss, Geysir, Hjálparfoss, Háifoss and Þjórsárdalur. They had arrived here in the small hours of the night after ensuring that they had successfully evaded their pursuers. However, Eric was certain that their efforts were at best a temporary measure.
While Eric was contacting the authorities to report what had happened at the Glacier, Jason had opted to remain in the guesthouse in order to glean what they could about the excavation and the scientists who had been so ruthlessly eliminated on the eve of their great discovery. However in truth, he had a more personal research in mind even if it was indirectly related to their present dilemma. Sitting in front of his laptop, Jason began pounding the compact keyboard, typing in the word that had remained with him since the creature with the red eyes had first uttered it.
Periannath.
His search quickly revealed that there was no such word in existence, in any language. He remembered the other thing the man had called him and keyed in the term 'hobbit', hoping that this would yield more information than the first request. He supposed he should not have been surprised at having found nothing. That creature's hatred had sounded so personal when he called Jason that name. Somehow, the key to understanding this entire situation rested with why the enemy believed Jason was familiar to him. The young man could sense the seething rage in the creature's voice and then there was the demand to reveal what he knew about the so-called shield bitch.
Was she here too?
Who was the 'she' he was referring to? Why did he seem to think Jason would know?
After a frustrating search that availed him nothing, Jason decided to dedicate his time to learning what he could about the archaeological team and in particular, their backgrounds. It was their expertise that had unearthed the artifact and now that they were gone, he and Jason would have to find someone else who might be able to provide the answers they needed. Unfortunately, the file containing their assignment did not include the names of the researchers leading Jason to suppose that if Malcolm Industries were funding the research, then it was likely that they would know who was on their payroll. Using his cell phone, which typically had been out of service at the Glacier when it was most needed, Jason telephoned the company's office in Reykjavik from the telephone number he had found on their corporate website.
Surprisingly enough, Malcolm Industries had been most accommodating. While it had required Jason to endure a ten-minute ordeal of being placed on hold before being transferred to the appropriate department and then finally to someone who could actually answer his request, they were nevertheless, helpful. They company confirmed that the grant to Petra Tebben had been terminated almost a year ago but fortunately they were still in possession of the information he required. Information, they would be more than happy to email to him if he so desired. The list of researchers on the excavation team arrived a few minutes later by email and allowed Jason to see that most of Petra Tebben's staff had originated from the University of Oslo. Tebben herself had been a student of Professor Hans Skogen, the Head of the Paleoanthropology Department.
Perhaps Professor Skogen may have some ideas as to what the artifact was.
Jason was in the process of ruminating on this point when Eric returned to their room, his expression grim.
"I don't bloody believe!" Eric snapped in anger and frustration as soon as the door closed behind him.
"What?" Jason, understandably concerned, asked rising from his seat.
"I called the Icelandic authorities," Eric replied taking a deep breath to calm himself, still unable to wrap his mind around what he had been told. It was so unbelievable and stomach turning that Eric could barely contain his disgust and his exasperation. "I told them what happened, that an execution squad had just murdered the entire archaeology team in the Glacier."
"They didn't believe you?" Jason blurted out before he could finish.
"It wasn't that they didn't believe me, there's just no way to collaborate my story since the entire glacier collapsed in on itself shortly after we left. Everything is buried under tons of snow. Since the archeology team is almost a mile deep beneath the chasm, there's no way they're going to be able to learn the truth until someone burrows through all that snow to reach the bodies."
"How they hell could they have managed that?" Jason exclaimed, completely sympathetic to Eric's shock.
"They blew up the damn glacier!" Eric exclaimed, "they blew it up so no one would know."
"Except us," Jason replied, realizing why Eric was so concerned. "Except us," Eric nodded with a hard edge to his voice that emphasized the urgency of their predicament. "We have to get out of here. We have to get out of the country and head back to Oz. Once we're there, we'll sort it out on familiar territory."
"Eric, I've been thinking," Jason said quickly, not entirely agreeing if this was the best course. "Maybe we should find out about where this artifact comes from. I think we both know agree, its what those guys were after."
"Jason, you don't understand, if they were willing to blow up a national treasure to cover their tracks that means they're hunting us, even now. We're the only ones who know what happened. We have to get to this print. I'd call in the story but we have no corroborating proof. Exposing these people is the only thing that will keep us alive."
"It's just that most of the archaeological team, even Petra Tebben comes from Norway. Most of them worked for a Professor Skogen in the University of Oslo. If we take the artifact to him we might be able to work out what it is?""How would you know that?" Eric stared at him sharply, an uneasy feeling rising up inside of him like bile. "That information wasn't in the file."
"I rang up Malcolm Industries office in Reykjavik," the younger man explained.
"You called them? Using your mobile?" The Australian almost shouted.
"Yeah," Jason nodded, wondering why the alarm.
"Jesus Chris Jason!" Eric shouted in astonishment and shock, "didn't I teach you better than that? Malcolm Industries are most likely the bastards who sent those killers after the team!"
Jason stared at Eric dumbfounded, too stunned to respond. However, even as he stared at Eric, his mind was already processing the pieces now that Eric had brought to light the allegation. Of course, it made perfect sense and upon reaching that conclusion, it did not take long to realize the monumental mistake he had made.
"Oh hell," Jason muttered. "I'm sorry, I didn't think…"
"We'll bloody well talk about this later," Eric bit back; aware that he was harsh but felt he was justified under the circumstances. "Right now we need to pack up our gear and get the hell out of here before anyone finds us."
Still too horrified by the implications of what he had wrought upon then, Jason was more or less muted with silence as he hurried to pack their things away for a hasty departure. It had never occurred to him that those killers might have been sent by Malcolm Industries because of what he had seen of their true nature. The idea that a corporation might be employing supernatural creatures to do their bidding was so absurd that Jason had hardly given it thought. However, Eric was not aware of what he knew and was able to think in more realistic terms. He was right. If indeed they were the impetus for the arrival of the assassins to dispatch the excavation team, then Malcolm Industries must have learnt that Petra Tebben had gone behind their backs to the media and moved to act accordingly.
They probably traced the call when he was on hold.
Jason could not believe his stupidity but Eric was right, they had no time to deal with it at this time. He had a feeling that Eric would rake him over the coals if they got out of here in one piece and at the moment, Jason was inclined to think that Eric was completely justified in doing so.
"Are the authorities even going to investigate?" Jason asked as he saw Eric hastily picking up his clothes and shoving them into a travel bag.
"They'll make some inquiries but the fact of the matter is, we can't even offer a description of the men that murdered those people so they don't have much to go on."
"What about the connection to Malcolm Industries?" he asked somewhat meekly.
Eric straightened up and met his gaze, "we don't have proof of that either but it makes sense. No one else stood to gain by killing the team and it's too much of a coincidence that they arrived just after we did. Chances are they had some idea of what Tebben stumbled upon. She thought it was a new source of power. Can you imagine the dollar value attached to that? They probably thought killing her was the only way to protect the sanctity of their product."
Jason held a deep breath and released it knowing there was more to this situation than just the money, "Eric, there's something I need to tell you."
"Save it," Eric brushed past him as he headed towards the bathroom to gather up what belongings remained there. "You can save the apologies for later after I've kicked your bloody arse for doing something so stupid. You're not a professional newsman, use your head and think!"
"I wasn't going to apologize," Jason muttered, his face flushed with embarrassment.
"You bloody well ought to!" Eric shouted from the bathroom.
"ERIC I DON'T THINK THEY"RE HUMAN!"
There was silence following that statement as Jason waited with abated breath for Eric's response. It had gone dead quiet in the bathroom and it was a few seconds later that the silence was broken by Eric's footsteps back into the room.
"What did you say?" The journalist stared at his younger counterpart, certain that he was mistaken at what he had heard.
"When he had me, I took a swing at him," Jason said quietly, wishing he had not spoken but Eric's vehement response had provoked him into spilling the truth. "I didn't hurt him or anything but I did knock those sunglasses off his face. Eric, they were wearing masks, all of them. Pasty white masks, the kind that Michael in Halloween wears and his eyes, he had glowing red eyes. I think the masks hide what they are because they're not human."
"Red eyes?" Eric stared at him, wondering if Jason had not lost his mind as well as his sense.
"Red eyes with no irises, just a red glowing eyeballs," Jason swallowed, "I've never been so scared in my life."
"Look he hit you pretty bad," Eric started to say, unable to conceive that what Jason was claiming could be true. He was a journalist used to hard facts. The evidence spoke for itself far more reliably than the words of men. Jason was perhaps his best friend but he could not ignore the insanity of what the younger man was alleging. "Maybe you imagined it."
"I didn't imagine it!" Jason barked back in exasperation. "I saw his eyes. Didn't you think it strange that when you hit them with that helmet thing, it sizzled? You saw it Eric! You saw how they were dressed. No one turns up to an ice cave in the middle of Iceland in Armani, I don't care how well tailored it is. The cold didn't affect them. All of us had vapor coming out of our mouths with each breath we took. When that thing held me up to him and was hissing, I saw nothing. It was like he didn't even have a breath or perhaps he wasn't even alive."
"Jason!" Eric cut him off not wishing to hear any more of this. "Think about what you're saying."
"I have thought about it and I haven't stopped since it happened," Jason replied. "Eric you're a newsman but you're also the best investigator I have ever seen and as stupid as I was to call Malcolm Industries, you have to admit that there are some things about this that don't make sense. You're too sharp to have missed them.
"He was right, Eric admitted begrudgingly. The strange occurrences had not been lost upon him but Eric was too much the cynic to admit the existence of the supernatural. It shook the foundation of his very logical world. There was an explanation for everything, no matter how impossible it may seem outwardly. It only required someone with a nose for research to uncover the truth. Eric had lived by that creed all his life. He relied on it and knew that despite all the ugliness he had seen, in his life, the sanctity of the truth needed to be preserved if the future was to learn anything at all. It would have surprised many too discover that beneath his jaded exterior, Eric was still the idealist he had been when he first put pen to paper.
"We have to go," he said quietly, unable to bring himself to admit that Jason could be right. He could feel the pressure against the reliable walls that was his perception on reality, buckling ever so slightly. Since the artifact had come into his life, nothing was making sense and Eric sensed he was poised over the periphery of something greater than himself. He could feel it and it terrified him.
"We can talk about this later," he declared.
Jason knew that meant precisely the opposite.
Eric was suffering a terrible case of denial but Jason was certain he would overcome it.
The situation left no other alternative.
*************
The Nine were notified within minutes of the phone call made by Jason Merrick to Malcolm Industries.
The news came to them from Irina Sadko who had told Morgul rather pointedly to clean up the mess they had made in the Temple Glacier by allowing the escape of the two journalists. Personally, the Nine did not care who knew about the artifact. It would not change matters much because no presence on this earth could stand in their way when the Nine were on the hunt. Even if the two men were to expose the presence of the artifact to the world, it would make very little difference since there was one left on this earth save themselves and their Master's woman who knew what it was to begin with. It would be a curiosity that would sear the flesh of any human that attempted to hold it with their bare hands.
The woman however had demanded that the artifact be retrieved and those who were in possession of it to be killed to maintain the secret regarding the true fate of those who had unearth it to begin with. Morgul had no hesitation in carrying out that order even if it were for entirely different reasons. Since the glacier, he who was once the Witch King, felt uneasiness settle into his being. Disquieting emotions felt almost alien to a creature that had believed himself expunged of all things human aeons ago. However, he knew the precise moment it had begun.
The instant he caught sight of the hobbit that had been present at the battle of Pelennor, even the retrieval of the Master seemed to shrink into insignificance.
For the first time in his long existence, since the shadow world had claimed him as one of its own, Morgul was suffused with an entirely human need that differed greatly to the purpose of his brothers. It surged through his phantom veins and filled his mind with such hatred that it was difficult to remember the main reason for retrieving the artifact to begin with.
He wanted vengeance.
Not from just the halfling who had been reborn in human skin but from her.
If the halfing was here then Morgul was certain she was as well. She had been the last thing he had seen during the Battle of Pelennor and he intended to return the favor. Somehow, Morgul was convinced that if he found the human called Jason Merrick, then he would also find her, wherever she was in this lifetime.
The vehicle in which they were travelling approached the lodgings where the telephone call had originated and crawled to a gradual halt after turning off the road. Once they were close enough, they needed no further instructions to reach their quarry.
The power of the jewel radiated outward like a beacon, drawing them like moths to the flame. There was no denying the lure of it to those who understood its significance, the need to touch and possess something that once given light to the world. The woman saw it as a means to the end but she could not appreciate the true power of at her disposal. None of the Nine saw any reason to enlighten her, less she develop the same glimmer in her eyes that had driven so many others to obsession. They needed the jewel to restore their Master who had been perceptive enough to remain free of its lure, although he was not immune to falling under the sway of his creation, much as the jewel had become Feanor's master in the end. As long as the humans kept it in their possession, the Nine would find them. It was inevitable.
*************
After carrying out what was a fairly impressive effort of fast packing, Eric and Jason hurried out of the guesthouse bound for the driveway where their car was parked. Eric could still think of nothing to say to his young partner and was grateful for the fact that their present crisis allowed him to avoid the issue for the moment. It was not as if he did not wish to discuss the matter, in truth, he knew there would be no avoiding it once they were safely away from here but he needed the time to compose his thoughts.
Jason had seen some rather harrowing things working with him during the past years, enough for Eric to know that he was not prone to delusions during stressful situations. If he had seen red eyes, then Eric believed him without question.
Unfortunately, believing him also meant that Eric would have to open his mind to possibilities he had a great deal of trouble accepting as truth. Being a journalist, he was by definition, the original doubting Thomas and right now, Thomas needed more than Jason's word that the assassins chasing him were some form of supernatural creatures with glowing red eyes, even if they were dressed inappropriately for Icelandic weather. Eric knew that he was showing classic signs of denial but at the moment his senses needed to be sharp if he was going to extricate both them from this dangerous situation in one piece. He could not do that if he doubted everything he knew about the world.
It was already dark outside since daylight in Iceland during in the latter half of the year lasted briefly. With the half moon peering indifferently at them from the heavens above, they reached the unimpressive Fiat they had been forced to rent at the local rental agency and piled everything into the backseat, including the helm that he had used to subdue the assassin intending to kill Jason. Eric let out a sigh of relief as they prepared to depart because it appeared as if like Jason's mistake would not cost them as dearly as he had feared. In a matter of minutes, they would be leaving this place behind and anyone who came looking for them would find nothing but a vacant room.
The distant drone of car engines caused Eric to instinctively dig his fingers into his pocket to find the keys. Even though there was nothing unusual about the sound since theirs was one of many guesthouses in the area, the journalist had become somewhat paranoid after Jason's revelation, the least of that was the fact that their pursuers may not be human. While he was not ready to accept that as fact, Eric knew he did not wish to fall into their hands to find out. He would prefer to make that discovery at minimum safe distance.
The sound attracted Jason too who immediately reached for the door handle and climb into the car. Eric felt the familiar ridge of steel inside his jeans pocket and pulled out the set of keys just as the twin strobes of headlights exploded in his eyes. He flinched and blinked trying to clear the blur of dark spot that appeared as his retinas were overloaded with too much light. Jason was already in the car as Eric raised a hand to shield his eyes when suddenly, he heard the younger man shout.
"Get in the bloody car!"
When he retained some semblance of normal vision, Eric understood why. The long black car, a Jaguar or BMW, he could not tell because its badge was too far away to be discerned came to a halt with one door swinging open almost immediately. One figure stepped out first and the familiarity caused Eric's blood to run cold. He did not wait to see the rest.
Climbing into the Fiat, he jammed the keys into the ignition and brought the engine to life, aware that even as he did so, the enemy had retreated into his own vehicle and was warning the driver to give chase. Eric spun the wheel in full circle as soon as the gears and engines had given him leave to do so, causing the vehicle to execute a sharp turning circle that put them almost parallel with the assassins' car approaching from the opposite direction. As the two vehicles swept past each other, Eric saw their pursuers winding down the window.
"Get down!" He ordered and crouched low as the barrage of gunfire strafed the body of the car and shattered windows. Glass exploded in the backseat as Eric forced his foot against the accelerator and roared out of the driveway at greater speed.
"Eric I'm sorry!" Jason cried out as the younger man stared out the windows and saw the dark car executing the same turn to maintain the chase.
"It's alright!" Eric said hastily, not terribly concerned with how the enemy had found them but rather getting away with their skins intact. "Look grab one of the smaller bags and stick everything in it we need to run and leave the country."
"What?" "We've got to get out of this car," Eric retorted. "No way in hell is this pissy little Fiat going to outrun that Jag. We won't even get half way to Reykjavik in this thing."
"What do we do?" Jason stared at him.
Eric stared at the headlights in the rear vision mission and saw the other increasing its speed, until the twin points of light had become powerful strobes reflected in the glass. They were gaining. In response, he forced his foot against the pedal once more, feeling the engine's roar become more pronounced, until he was certain that he had wrung every bit of power that the car could muster into the spinning wheels carrying them forward. It was still not enough. The car was built to be reliable, not to race
Eric thought quickly, examining the mountainous regions that surrounded Fludir and knew that the natural terrain was the only way to lose their attackers. A sign blurred past them and his eyes flared, a thought coming to his head as Jason stuffed their identification, the helm and the artifact into the small canvas bag knapsack used to carry his film. Once again the mountain tracks surrounding the town beckoned him and Eric made a quick decision hoping that this was good enough.
"Make sure you grab parkas and jumpers for each of us," Eric instructed further.
"Why?" Jason asked suspiciously, his mind trapped between fearing for their lives and the occupants of the car and the idea he could sense behind Eric's orders.
"Because we're ditching the car."
"Ditching the car?" Jason's brow shot up. "For what?"
Eric swung the wheel and forced the car into a side road sharply, causing them both to tilt to one side as they made the turn. Large, looming trees immediately surrounded them and the smaller road as the car sped down its length. Eric did not answer, his mind fixed upon controlling the speeding car on this small, winding road that was leading them deeper into the mountains. Behind them, their pursuers were maintaining the pace though there was still gap enough for Eric's rather desperate plan to work. It was a slim hope at best, but if they remained in this car, the enemy would catch up to them and this time, they would not survive the encounter. He was certain of it.
"We've got everything!" Jason announced once he had secured the straps on the knapsack and slung it over his back. "Where are we going?" "
There," Eric pointed to the dark silhouette of a large country manor tucked neatly in the surround of mountains and steep hills. It sat facing a cliff with a sizeable drop into the Gullfoss River and the magnificent waterfalls for which the area was renowned.
"That place?" Jason stared at him quizzically. "Isn't that the place you go for horse rides?"
"One and the same," Eric replied, not bothering to turn into the driveway that led to the manor itself, directing the vehicle towards the place where the manor's source of income, their horses, were stabled. The road became uneven as they neared the stable and the sharp glare of headlights against the twilight darkness told them that their pursuers were still there. At best, Eric estimated they would have little more than minutes to make their escape before the assassins caught on to what they were doing.
Hopefully, none of those bastards could ride a horse.
*************
As soon as the car had come to a screeching halt, creating a cloud of mud and dirt as the wheels skidded against the soft ground, Eric jumped out of the driver's seat and hurried towards the stables. Jason followed suit, pausing long enough to see the headlights of the assassins' cars moving through trees as it followed the road to them. The journalist hurried past the stable doors and was immediately assaulted with the acrid aroma of hay, musk and manure. He grabbed the first saddle he saw on the ground and sought out the horses.
Icelandic horses or Tolts were medium size animals covered in thick fur and possessed a double mane. To survive in the harsh climate of Iceland, the horse had developed powerful musculature, good stamina and an ability to navigate through the volcanically formed terrain of the country. Considering what Eric intended to do to escape the enemy, the Tolt seemed perfect for their needs.
"You want to tell me what we're doing?" Jason asked as he handed Eric his parka who put it on promptly.
"Isn't it obvious?" Eric replied, having dropped the saddle on the ground once he found the horse that would wear the saddle so that he could don the heavy coat.
"We're riding out of here?" Jason stared at him in incredulity putting on his own.
"We can lose them in the mountains and get back to civilization later. We stay in the car and they'll find us."
"How do you know how ride a horse?" Jason questioned. "You're from Marrickville for Christ sake!
"Despite the situation, Eric did found a smile stealing across his face as he saddled the animal, a beautiful chestnut mare with a double mane of flaxen hair, as quickly as possible. "My grandfather Theo had a property in Victoria," Eric answered hastily as he secured the straps of the predominantly English saddle with its Icelandic modifications and ensured that it was safe to ride. "When I was a kid, my dad used to take us there for the holidays. My granddad taught me how to ride. The property is still there but dad has a cocky to manage things for him."
"That's the farm you keep talking about?" Jason declared, recalling Eric speaking of it one or twice in the past.
"That's it," Eric retorted grabbing the reins and mounting the animal in one easy moment, surprising Jason with how comfortable and expertly he managed it. For a man who spent most of the time in the city, Eric seemed perfectly at ease on the animal.
"I can't ride," Jason reminded him when suddenly they heard the screeching wheels of a car coming to abrupt halt. Both he and Eric exchanged the same look of realization.
"I know," Eric extended his hand out, "we're going double. I don't want us separated anyway."
Jason did not like the idea of riding behind Eric like he was a girl but supposed he did not have a great deal of choice. Taking the older man's hand, he was helped awkwardly into the saddle behind Eric. It was just as well because the slamming car door indicated that their hunters were closing in on them again.
"Hold on," Eric replied and dug his heels into the horse's flank, sending the animal into a rapid sprint towards the stable doors. Within seconds, they had emerged in the open once again, the chill night air assaulting them. Eric saw the occupants of the car had emerged and instinctively felt himself inching closer to believing Jason's claim that these were supernatural beings.
Clad in their black suits and those pasty white masks, there were at least five of them making their way to the stable when he and Jason had barged out of the building astride their animal. Eric did not waste time with his observations and he kicked his heels into the horse once more, ensuring that it maintained its breakneck speed away from the enemy. The five men opened gunfire immediately, startling the horse somewhat but the animal's response to this was to surge forward even faster than before. Eric took the most difficult route he could think of, one he was certain that could not be traversed by a car.
The mare was already bursting with adrenaline and had little difficulty making its way down the steep incline that would have sent a car flipping over on its back like a distressed terrapin if it made the attempt. Eric could feel Jason's fingernails digging into his flesh from anxiety. Eric could not blame him. As able a rider as he was, Eric was relying on the animal's natural fleet footedness to get them down this steep hill to the river's edge. He hoped to follow the river as far as he could, certain that it would them lead to a town. Iceland was largely a haven for tourists these days and the Gullfoss was an important waterway. It was also inaccessible to cars for quite some distance and Eric intended to be safely away before their pursuers found a way to reach them.
It took some effort to remain in the saddle and he could feel Jason's grip tightening and even glanced down to see knuckles turning white from the ordeal. If the horse were to lose it's footing, the fall would most likely kill the animal and injure them severely. However, the animal appeared mindful as it navigated the uneven slope of rocks and dirt, somehow finding a path that its human riders could not see. Eric held on tight, tilting his back a little, working with the animal to reach the shale ground along the river.
"You right back there?" Eric asked, looking over his shoulder concerned. He hoped talking would take Jason's mind off what they were doing. Even the bravest human being felt a little anxious their first time on a horse and usually the circumstances did not involve pursuit by ruthless assassins who may or may not be creatures with glowing red eyes.
"I'm fine," Jason replied tautly, keeping his eyes away at the river instead of the immediate ground and their unsteady descent. "Do you think they gave up?"
"No," Eric said without hesitation. "They're probably looking for a way to get to us."
Suddenly, they both heard the sounds of horses neighing and looked over their shoulders simultaneously. "I think they found it," Jason declared, his throat becoming even drier than before as he saw their pursuers making their way down the slope astride horses. If Jason thought that Eric appeared comfortable in the saddle then the creatures commanded their mounts looked as if they were cavalrymen about to charge.
"Bugger!" Eric swore loudly and dug his heels into the horse's flanks, inciting it into moving faster even though it was their present route was dangerous enough as it was. The enemy however, did not appear constrained by limitations of their own safety and were pushing their mounts hard to reach them. The horse grunted its disapproval but hastened its pace, making its riders suffer in the saddle as it rocked forward perilously on the uneven terrain. Jason's grip around Eric had grown tighter and even Eric was forced to grip the pommel in order to maintain his balance. The riders behind them were surging down the hill at a faster pace, their animals snorting and neighing in protest. However, it did little to hinder their determination.
As the ground came closer and closer, Eric prayed they would reach the shore but was somewhat at a loss over what to do next. He had not considered the pursuers were such able horsemen or for that matter, so recklessly ignorant if their own safety. However, it hardly mattered now because the situation was what it was, they had to escape. His eyes searched the terrain and could see nothing that would help them. All he could hear was the rushing of water from the waterfalls that Fludir was so well known.
Suddenly a thought entered his head and as equally dangerous as it was in comparison to what their pursuers were now doing, Eric knew they had no other choice. To be captured would be to die.
"Come on!" Eric hissed forcing the horse to move faster, his heels assaulting the beast's flanks relentlessly and invoked in him a surge of guilt at its treatment.
The horse put all its effort into reaching the ground and even then, Eric could not allow it the respite it so richly deserved, compelling it to surge forward again, past the five dark riders that were in close pursuit.
"What the hell are we going to do?" Jason asked, accustomed to following Eric's lead after years in the field with him but growing anxious as the lack of any real strategy.
"What kind of a swimmer are you?" Eric ignored his question and demanded instead.
"I'm alright, why?" Jason shouted back, suddenly developing this very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his gut. It was the same feeling that he had gotten when Eric had convinced him that they could both pass for Afghanis during the recent war there. The incident had almost resulted in both of them falling victim to a Taliban soldier's killing spree where many civilians had been brutally killed.
"We're going for a swim," Eric replied enigmatically as they raced along the river's edge. Behind them, the assassins had reached the ground and spread out across the breadth of the shoreline. It appeared to Eric that they were almost accustomed to falling into formation on horseback. Once again, Jason's suspicions about them surfaced in his mind and he was starting to think that perhaps the younger man was right, that these men were not men at all but creatures they did not understand.
Creatures who not only knew how to hunt but would not yield until their quarry was in their clutches.
Jason was dubious about the effectiveness of making a swim for it and wanted to question Eric about his plan when suddenly he felt the older man pull up the reins of the horse and bring the animal to a sudden stop. If not for his grip around Eric's waist, he would have fallen out off the saddle.
"What are you doing?" Jason demanded glancing behind him and seeing their pursuers closing the distance.
Eric climbed off the saddle and hurried forward, reluctant to tell Jason the full extent of his plan. Fortunately, they did not have far too go and the rushing of water that had been building in their ears would soon reach climax and give Jason a fair idea of what he was intending. The enemy was closing in for the kill. They had no more than a matter of minutes. Jason ran after him, keeping up with no trouble at all. Truth be known, the kid was in better shape than he was and could probably outdistance Eric if he set his mind to it.
Within seconds, they had come to the edge on the top of the enormous cascade that was sweeping anything it is path further down stream at a rapid pace. It was awesome to look and utterly terrifying when one considered what their next step was going to be. Jason came to a halt next to Eric and saw him staring into the churning water and at the powerful currents continuing its journey once the water had escaped the boundaries of the water.
"Oh no," Jason shook his head in disbelief, beginning to understand. "You got to be bloody kidding!"
"Don't worry," Eric said with more bravado then he really felt. "It will be just like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid."
"Might I remind you," Jason growled, "that they DIED!"
"Well the Bolivian army is coming and unless you want to debate the matter with them, we're going to have to jump," Eric retorted, having no patience to deal with Jason's histrionics at this time.
"Aw Jesus!" Jason groaned and looked down felt his stomach turn to jelly. What Eric failed to realize, was that it was not the fact they were jumping into the waterfall with powerfully dangerous currents that made Jason so reluctant but rather the actual drop. Jason did not handle heights well at all. Travelling in a helicopter had been a personal nightmare the young man had forced himself to endure because he simply had to if he wanted to do his job.
"Jason," Eric said seriously, his expression sympathetic, "we'll find another way down."
"Really?" Jason exclaimed with genuine surprise as well as relief.
"No," Eric declared promptly and threw a fist into Jason's face, sending him reeling backwards over the edge.
"YOU BAST……!" He heard Jason screamed indignantly before Eric jumped in after him.
************
He hit the water at full force and was immediately dragged to the bottom by the currents continuing on its relentless onslaught down the river. For an instant, Eric was filled with panic as the icy cold water swirled in around him. His hands clawed desperately at the space in front of him, his fingers grasping nothing but freezing water as his feet kicked frantically to gain some buoyancy or for that matter, find the riverbed so that he could propel himself upward. Calming himself as the rush of wander filled his ears with relentless pounding, Eric knew that he could drown if he did not focus himself. It was almost impossible to see anything other than the bubbles before his eyes but that was more than enough for him to notice in which direction they were rising. Too many drowning victims had died because of that simple miscalculation.
Needing little more than a split second to note the direction of bubbles escaping his mouth, he started kicking strenuously and found himself gaining a little bit of distance as he stared to rise. The strong current was ushering him along but Eric was making a gradual progress. His lungs were bursting for air but he was not in dire straits, not yet at least. The cold was beyond belief and Eric who hated the freezing temperature knew for a fact that if they did not get out of this river and find some warmth, they ran the risk of hypothermia.
Struggling to swim despite the weight of his parka, Eric somehow manage to break surface. His emergence was followed by a hungry gasp for air and his parka swelled up and began to offer him some aid in staying afloat. He looked around and saw woods around him with the waterfall growing more distant. He could not see their pursuers but knew that the assassins would have to find a path down the waterfall to reach them. Hopefully, it would buy Jason and him some time to get away. He struggled to see through the darkness and was greeted with dark waves of water moving him further along with little definition.
"Jason!" Eric risked shouting, fearful that his inability to see his young cameraman might mean the worst.
Shuddering at each breath of ice cold air he was taking into his lungs, Eric shouted again when he received no answer. He searched the banks of the river and saw no signs of his friend. Christ, he thought to himself, what had been running through his mind when he forced the kid over that waterfall? A cold fear gripped his heart that had little to do with the temperature and everything to do with his feelings for Jason who had been like a brother to him in the past three years. They had gone through much together and the possibility that Eric might have killed him when he had thrown that punch was more than the journalist could stand.
"JASON!" He shouted once more, growing more frantic and no longer caring about the men or the creatures that were hunting him. He struggled to stay afloat so that he could see but the combination of water, waves and darkness made visibility poor.
"Will you shut the fuck up before they hear us?" Came a disgruntled reply through the rushing water ahead.
"Jason?" Eric struggled to see, pushing himself over the surface to gain a better view. He could see nothing but a large branch, obviously torn off by lightening or some other natural phenomenon and had found its way into the river.
"I'm here!" He saw an arm waving at him from behind the gnarled wood.
Eric began swimming towards the branch that was further up the river then he was. When he finally reached it, Eric let out a sigh of relief when he saw clinging it to the branch, with his knapsack still attached to his back, Jason looking just as cold and miserable as he. For a moment, their immediate situation fled Eric's thoughts as he was overcome with a flood of gratitude knowing that Jason was alive and well, if not somewhat waterlogged. In seconds, Eric had swum his side, grabbing the discarded branch for support as well while it continued its journey down river.
"Thank Christ," Eric said breathlessly, "I thought I lost you there mate."
"Mate?" Jason glared at him. "We're not mates. I quit. I'm going home to Wellington and taking that job at my father's fish shop. Its greasy work but you don't get thrown over cliffs and dragged into life and death situations by a Aussie lunatic who belts you when you're not looking!"
"You hate fish," Eric grinned, having heard this tirade so many times before that he had it memorized.
Jason swept his gaze across their surroundings and retorted, "can you blame me?"
Both men met each other eyes and laughed out loud, forgetting for the moment that they were being hunted by assassins who may or may not be supernatural creatures, whilst carrying an artifact that should not have existed. It did not even register that they were being swept down river in freezing cold water that would most likely give them hypothermia if they did not remove themselves from it soon.
"What did you say that Professor's name was?" Eric asked when they finally composed themselves.
"Hans Skogen at the University of Oslo," Jason replied.
"Oslo," Eric nodded, conceding defeat in regards to that particular issue. "Alright, we'll play this out and see where it goes."
"You know I'm right Eric," Jason insisted, glancing towards the cascade where he was certain their assailants were descending in an effort to reach them. "I know what I saw, I've never been so sure of anything in my life."
"I'm not ready to believe that yet Jason," Eric replied sincerely. After all he had seen, he simply could not make the leap that Jason needed him to Not just yet. He was still too bound by what he considered to be the doctrine of his life, to never take anything on faith that could not be proven with cold hard data. He could sense that this belief was beginning to fray at the edges, but he was simply not ready to accept that they were embroiled in things far greater than he could imagine possible.
"I know," Jason patted him on the arm, aware of how difficult this was for him. "But it's the truth and sooner or later, you're going to have to accept it if we're going to survive this thing."
"Not yet," Eric reiterated and decided to return their attention to their immediate situation of being swept into parts unknown by the currents of the river and slowly freezing to death. "Right now, we've got to get out of here."
"I'm for that," Jason agreed before looking at him. "You got a good grip of this branch?" He asked Eric suddenly.
"Yeah," the older man nodded, confused at the point of the question. "Why?"
Without saying another word, Jason threw a hard right at Eric's jaw and caused the journalist to almost lose his grip of the branch but not quite.
"What was that for?" Eric cried out clutching his aching jaw.
"For finding another way," Jason smirked triumphantly reminding him of how Eric had helped him off the waterfall.
Now they were even.
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