Tomb of Odin: Part 2

***Here's part 2 of 3 of Tomb of Odin. Enjoy!*** 

Curt and Daryl starred glumly out of the lobby windows inside a hotel in Stryn, Norway, at a thick, fluffy, white blanket that covered every visible thing outside.

“Well, the travel brochures of Stryn looked nice,” Curt mentioned, gripping his cup of coco tightly in his hands.

“Those were all taken in the summer,” Daryl replied. “And on particularly nice days. This is Scandinavia after all.” His head dropped. “I didn’t think there was a place on Earth that had worse weather than merry ol’ England.”

Curt retreated from the frigid window towards a couch in the center of the lobby where their backpacks were stacked. “Do you think our guide got stuck in the snow?”

“Lord knows…”

Curt flopped down on the couch and rested his elbow over the back rest. He was somewhat glad Daryl was cranky this morning; there was a lack of annoying questions concerning his issues with church. Once Daryl found something that pressed on someone’s nerves, especially if it regarded a personal matter, he made a note to keep pressing until the target snapped or found something else to pick at. Curt had already listened to it for the duration of the plane trip to Norway.

Curt eyed Daryl, still staring out the window. Perhaps if he pretended to snap now he could get the man off his back. Curt shook his head; he knew he would never be able to do that, besides, in the act of snapping he would probably tell Daryl everything he wanted to know.

“Ah! I think that’s him!” Daryl straightened.

Curt turned his head to see a large one ton pickup pull up outside with chains encircling his tires. An older man emerged from the truck with graying hair. His belly was burly suggesting a jolly man at first but as he emerged from the white glow outside, into the lobby, Curt saw grim, no-nonsense features etched into the folds of the old man’s face. Curt also noted the large wooden cross dangling outside of the man’s winter jacket for all to see. Curt held his breath and tried as hard as he could not to prejudge the man.

“Are you two the ones here to see the archeological site?” the man said with a thick Norwegian accent.

Daryl held out his hand. “Yes we are. Please to meet you, I am…”

“Well, get your things. I take you to this devil tomb,” the man quickly cut in venom soaking his words. Curt caught a half-smirking look from Daryl who was quickly losing his grumpy mood and enjoying the awkward situation. Curt could only whimper silently.

When Daryl stooped over the armrest of the couch to grab his two bags, Curt leaned towards his ear. “You’re sitting in the front, right?”

“Why? Don’t you like his charm?” Daryl giggled.

Curt swore sharply and reiterated his message.

The drive out of town was conducted in silence. Curt was thankful for that; he had heavy reservations about conversing with their guide. Daryl attempted to make contact with the man once or twice as they started getting into the mountain roads but besides grunts and nods the only verbal response he received was the man’s name, Mikael. 

The increased snow made the trip more hectic but they made it to their destination, a small airport. As they came to a halt Daryl noted that their guide reached down and grabbed his cross. “Made it,” Mikael said and placed the wooden symbol against his lips and kissed it gently. 

After witnessing this sign of piety Daryl made the obvious observation out loud much to Curt’s dismay. “You’re a religious man.”

“Absolutely, I have belonged to the Church of Norway since just after birth,” Mikael stated proudly.

“Ah yes, the vast majority of people in Norway belong to the state church.” Daryl said showing off his knowledge of statistics.

“I am not like those hypocrites.” Mikael scoffed. “I attend mass every week. Many only go once a year, if at all. The fear of God has sadly left this land. This dig they are conducting in the mountains isn’t going to help.”

“It could be a magnificent find,” Daryl replied, “it could tell us about a period of time we know little about.”

“It is the tomb of a devil. The only people it will strengthen are the unbelievers or worse, heathens.”

“Actually very few people in Norway revere the old Gods. I was reading some stats before coming here that…”

“Bah! You know nothing!” Mikael hissed and opened the car door. He began trudging towards the airport lobby.

“You know,” Curt began, “I wouldn’t bother.”

Daryl looked back as if he didn’t know he was doing something wrong. “Why?”

They both disembarked from the vehicle and joined their grim guide to wait for the chopper to finish prepping in a long uncomfortable silence.

Curt hadn’t been in helicopter in years and it had begun to snow. His stomach began doing summersaults while the chopper bounced in the turbulence. Mikael translated the pilot’s assurances that the snow wasn’t that bad and that the chopper was built to withstand such pressures, but this did nothing to deter Curt from imagining several different crash scenarios.  

Snow masked the dig site until they came within a few dozen meters. Since there was no good place to touch down along the ridge all three men had to descend the chopper using pulleys while it remained in flight. Curt almost peed in his pants on the way down. Daryl looked like he was laughing.

Once on the ground Mikael led them to a cave in the rock face where a few crates and equipment covered with heavy tarps lay outside. They hurried within to escape the cold and immediately met two men boxing artifacts in the entrance. Neither could speak any English but Mikael reiterated that the head of the dig was in the main chamber in the back, awaiting them.

Mikael went first. Curt tugged at Daryl’s arm. “Man, this guy sure hates me.”

“Why do you say that?” Daryl asked wiping the freezing moisture from his moustache.

“Didn’t you see how he scowled at me when he was talking just there?”

“Well, you’ve been scowling at him almost non-stop yourself.”

“I have?” Curt hung in behind their precession and scratched at the back of his head. He had become so focused on their zealous grump’s demeanor so much he hadn’t been paying attention to his own.

The cave consisted of a straight tunnel leading directly to the rear circular burial chamber. In the center was sarcophagus scraped out of the rock floor. It had been covered with a stone slab but had been removed by the Oslo team. There were decaying bronze weapons and tools placed around the walls of the chamber which the dig team was tagging and packing up. Hunched over the tomb were two figures and exchanging words in Norwegian. Mikael walked up behind them and made his presence known by loudly clearing his throat. Both people jumped as if ice had been slipped down the back of their shirts.

They talked with Mikael for a moment before he began introducing the two men from England. Curt wondered what the grouch was really saying but soon lost interest as he noted that one of the two people from the Oslo team had a rather pleasant face.

She walked up to him first holding out a hand and said with a slight accent, “Pleasure to meet you, I am Vanja and this is Erik. Erik doesn’t speak good English but I’ll let you know what he says. We both run the dig.”

Their hand shake left an odd feeling in Curt’s stomach that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He caught himself wondering if she was married but quickly shook off the stupidity he felt creeping into his chest.

“Be careful of this one.” Mikael cut in pointing at Vanja. “As pagan as it gets.”

“I am most certainly not!” she snapped. “Disregard this man. He is a fanatic.”

“There is nothing wrong with that,” Mikael replied.

“All things in moderation, old man,” Vanja replied and returned to her visitors. “We’re glad to see you. Come see the guest of honor.”

She led everyone to the sarcophagus. Curt and Daryl leaned over to inspect the frozen, mummified body within clad in sparse, oxidized armor. Erik stayed behind with Mikael to hear his translation. “The body was well preserved despite the moisture; the sarcophagus was very well sealed and the cold may have helped.”

Daryl grinned up from under his beard. “I am impressed at your English. You articulate well.”

Vanja smiled. “Thank you. I actually studied at your university for several years while getting my doctorate.”

Curt suddenly felt a burning tightness in his chest wishing he had made that observation. But he brushed this aside as he knew Daryl was living with his girlfriend. And besides, he had no time for such silliness; last time he bothered with a woman had been silly enough.   

To get his thoughts back on track Curt frowned into the tomb at the bony body and instantly became transfixed. “Oh my…” he breathed.

“Ah, your friend has noticed the surprise.” Vanja said to Daryl who quickly turned his head and became silent.

“The skull. Look at the marks.” Curt breathed.

“Amazing.”

“It’s just like the myths. One of his eyes must have suffered some sort of trauma. There is evidence that the wounds healed over meaning he lived through it.” Curt said and looked up at Vanja and Erik. “The myth where Odin tore out his own eye giving it to the giant Mimir so he could drink from the well at the base of the world tree to gain untold knowledge.

There was disgruntled sound from behind most likely originating from Mikael. Everyone ignored it.

            “There’s more…” Vanja turned to Erik and spoke a few Nordic words.

            Erik knelt down and carefully lifted up the top portion of the mummy’s breast plate exposing the lower rib cage.

            “Ouch. There’s a wound there too.” Daryl observed.

            “Something must have scraped against his two lower ribs. It looks like a stabbing wound. This one didn’t heal over. It’s is probably what killed him,” Curt said.

            “Maybe not.” Daryl mentioned pointing up by the neck. “Some of his cervical vertebras are damaged. His neck might have been broken.”

            Curt leaned back away from the tomb. “This is just like the story of how Odin hung himself from the World Tree to gain knowledge of the runes. It sometimes said he also impaled himself in the side with his own spear.” Curt looked at Daryl. “This is weird. When they kicked me out of the Bible study years ago, that was the story I told.”

            “How did that get you kicked out?”

            “I mentioned that it was oddly similar to the crucifixion story where the Roman soldier Longinus pierced the side of Christ with a spear. I only mentioned it to explain how missionaries used that similarity to help Christianize Scandinavia but they didn’t like the comparison.”

            “You were kicked out of a Bible Study?” Vanja raised an eyebrow and smirked. Curt felt his face flush.   

            “At least he tried,” Mikael remarked from behind.

            “Well in this case,” Daryl began, “It doesn’t look like this man lived long enough to tell people about his new writing system, although, the inscription on the tomb suggests otherwise. Maybe he managed to pass on his wisdom before he died, or had developed them before his wound. Then again, those marks could have been caused in battle and this is all just a strange coincidence.”

            “It’s one hell of a coincidence…” Curt stared blankly down at the long since dead man. This all felt weird; even though he was no longer a strong supporter of anything religious, he felt somewhat disturbed by this find. Here was potential evidence that a God had once walked the world of man. Of all the possible faiths to have in the world, could the Norse, of all people, have gotten it right?

            Curt solemnly looked up past Daryl and Vanja towards Mikael, no longer looking so angry, but saddened by what was in the pit. Despite his resolve, something was defiantly working in the guide’s mind. Curt knew the feeling, he had come to question everything he thought he knew once; it had been a growing experience but it had not been an easy transition. Curt suddenly felt a touch of sympathy for the old man.