The Eye of Odin

Part 1

Blinding snow and biting wind whipped around me as I climbed, my arms shaking with exertion. Each strike of the ice axe sent a tremor through my entire body, which was pinned tightly against the mountain's face. It was with great relief that I reached the next ledge, cautiously testing its stability with my ice pick. Finding that it could hold my weight, I stepped off and shuffled my way out onto a small plateau, clearing the way for my partner to follow suit. Through the slits of my snow blinds, I could see Wesley Hartley's lanky form showing similar signs of exhaustion. His weight settled onto the flat land, and he placed a palm against the cliff face and bent over. His chest rose and fell in quick, ragged breaths that were clear even through the massive white parka and the crisscrossing straps of his backpack.

My gaze swept past him, out across the landscape of Norway's Jotunheimen mountain range. From our spot on the cliff, I could see no signs of civilization--only snow, stone and the valley far below from which we had ascended. The blizzard had abated enough to allow a brief glimpse of the weak sun straining through thin clouds. I didn't dare pause for any longer. Reaching out to pat Wes's arm, I pointed further up our path to the next level. He gave a weary nod and gathered himself to continue the journey.

It was easier climbing from here; the flattened plateau led us up and around, into the sheer rock face and on to a more gradual gradient. The featureless slope broke away, while outcroppings held the snow at bay, until we were able to find a cave sunk several yards into the leeward side of the peak. We stooped to enter, finding it deep enough to hold the both of us comfortably. The walls showed every sign of being dug by the forces of nature, the depth preventing any significant buildup of snow. I dropped my pack off and to the side; barely heard it hit the ground, and pulled the scarf from around my lower face. Small icicles had formed on the front from my breath freezing, and it crunched and folded as it dropped to my shoulders.

"Never again!" I groaned, collapsing into a sitting position beside my pack. "Nothing north of Calais. I refuse to even go back to England after this. It's just too damn cold."

"The cold does not bother me as much as the heights," Wes answered, using his pack to partially block the entrance to the cave. "But I will be perfectly content to never go higher than the roof of single story building after this."

I nodded in agreement and rifled through my pack. I came out with a small camp stove, placing it on the ground between us before setting it alight. A tin of food came next, and we warmed our hands next to the fire as it heated. The cave did an admirable job of holding the wind and cold at bay, but I continued to shiver violently while we sat and ate in silence. Wes produced tea bags from a pocket of his parka. I was usually not one to enjoy tea, but I found myself immensely grateful for the warm drink.

"We'll stay here for the night," I said, looking out at the dim light coming through the entrance to our cave.

"Based on what I could see, I would say we have another half day's climb from here to reach the summit," Wes commented, putting away his small tin cup. "From there, I could not say."

"I don't think we'll have much further to travel after we get to the temple. The location is so remote; it shouldn't drop very far into the mountain." I rubbed my arms with my hands, trying to get warm from the friction. "Although, we aren't exactly dealing with mortal restrictions here."

"As comforting as that is, I choose to think that you are correct with the temple being near the surface," Wes said, undoing the straps from the bedroll at the bottom of his pack. "How far behind do you think they are?"

"They have more men, more supplies, and they left after us. We should have a few hours head start, at least." I didn't sound as sure as I'd hoped, and Wes gave me a concerned look.

"We aren't even sure what we are looking for, Chance." He said.

"The legend says that Odin sacrificed his right eye to gain knowledge of the future." I mused, working my hand up through layers of clothing to find a crumpled booklet. I yanked it free and scanned the pages. "To some deity named 'Mimir', supposedly he looked after a well beneath the world tree, Yig... driss," I squinted, looked down at an incomprehensible word and snorted. "...this word does not have enough consonants. It doesn't matter. His eye remains in the well, reminding everyone of what the eldest of the gods was willing to give for wisdom."

"That doesn't sound like a weapon." Wes countered.

"The well doesn't, but Odin was supposedly chock full of potent magic." I said, snapping the booklet shut.

There wasn't much to be done about the situation, so I focused on setting up my own bedroll. I shut off the camp stove, fuel being a precious commodity, and stowed it between the two of us, hoping it would continue radiating heat for a while. The cave proved warmer than our tent had the night before, but I could feel the biting chill outside despite several layers of wool blanket and a thick down sleeping bag. I kept my Colt in the coverings with me, afraid that it would crack or turn brittle in the cold if I left it out and had to use it. I also kept the majority of my clothes on, shedding only my parka and boots, and allowed exhaustion to overcome cold.

I spent the night in fits of sleep, which broke the miserable hours I was curled in a fetal position within my sleeping bag. When morning came, I was happy to throw my parka and boots back on, start moving again, and get my blood flowing. We had another tin of food each, and another cup of fortifying tea, before striking camp and setting out. Our plateau ended all too quickly in another craggy rock wall, stretching up into the distance.

"There might be a way around," Wes shouted through his scarf and the wind.

I shook my head.

"This isn't too bad. I can see plenty of footholds. I'll head up and toss some rope down. Then we can haul up the packs, and you can follow." I shrugged out of my pack's shoulder straps, letting the pack fall heavily into the snow.

"Don't push yourself too hard, Chance," Wes admonished, causing me to turn back to him crossly. "I can go first on occasion."

"I'm smaller, lighter, it's easier for me," I argued, and before he could counter I had stepped out onto the first outcropping, my ice axe dangling from my left wrist. It was easier than some of our previous climbs had been, but my hands were cramping severely by the time I reached the top. I sat, looking out over the sharp, imposing landscape while my legs and hands recovered. Once I was sure it was safe, I used the flat end of my axe to hammer a hard point into the ice and ran a coil of rope down to Wes. Our packs came up, one at a time, and then I watched with apprehension as Wes attached the rope to his harness.

He made better time than I had, having watched which handholds seemed the most stable. I kept constant tension on the rope, and soon we were both safe at the summit. A thin path led in a spiral around the increasingly small diameter of the mountain peak, slanted just enough to make the trek harrowing.

"Look," Wes yelled from behind me, and I spun, nearly losing my footing as I incorrectly judged my clearance due to the bulky pack. It hit the cliff wall, pushing me out an extra inch, but I countered my weight quickly enough to avoid anything worse than a brief totter. He was pointing down to where our cave was. I could see several forms moving past it, hauling packs up from below. They were dressed in dark winter uniforms and moved with practiced ease across the snow and rock. "Are those mountain troops?"

"They must be. Come on. We have to hurry." I grimaced, taking off at the fastest pace I could.

"Chance, slow down. We can't beat them if we're dead," Wes insisted loudly, but I didn't heed his warning.

I began to cross a small gap, but what I had thought was rock turned out to be nothing but snow and ice. It crumbled and split as I set my weight on it, and I felt a sickening lurch as I began to slide. I still had my ice axe, but it was too late. My foot flew into the open air, and I cried out, surprised at the sudden shift in balance.