Painkiller: Odin's Warriors - Book 2 Read online

  Chief Technician Thomas 'Bear' Halford wiped crumbs from his red beard. "Not necessarily," he said. "Ever tried unscrambling an egg?" He matched Lucius's stare until they both smiled.

  "Why am I arguing with an amateur radio ham?" said Lucius. "Yeah, it's unlikely, highly unlikely, that egg, will spontaneously recombine itself into an intact egg. But it's just improbable, not impossible."

  "Ham and green eggs," said Laurie, to no one.

  The men around the table looked at him.

  "Anyway," said Andrew, "where are the others? They're usually here."

  "Rob's helping out Abe test the new ammo factory," said Lucius. "James wanted to go along. They've been there all night. I got back a few hours ago. We might just have solved the priming compound issue."

  "Bloody pyromaniacs," said Mick. "Anybody loses their hand today can call someone else."

  "And thanks to your medical training," said Andrew, "they can. Pass the sauce."

  "JESUS CHRIST," said James Snow, his ears still ringing. He wiped concrete dust off his sleeve. "Mick can make good concrete, I'll give him that." Abe Yeoman gave him the thumbs up, and whacked Chief Warrant Officer Rob Lee on the shoulder. Rob removed his hand from the metal crank, its axle disappearing into a small hole in the wall. The three walked around the long, thick, concrete wall to the other side and studied the metal bench, upon which the screw extruder sat.

  "Well the meat mincer is still there," said James.

  "If you could call it that," said Rob. "Long way from it now." The heavily modified single-screw machine took up most of the bench. "But it survived, and our first successful test of making priming compound. Or," he continued a moment later, "the first step toward it anyway."

  Abe gestured to him, wrote something in his notepad, and gave Rob the note. Abe couldn't talk, thanks to a musket shot in the throat from their disastrous first meeting of the Vikings, and James, who'd lost his right arm in the same encounter, signalled the other workers to continue working on the rest of the small building that surrounded them. Its exterior walls only went to their waists.

  Rob laughed. "Nitrocellulose, nitroglycerine, and salts, says Abe, equals freedom. Sure, I can make those changes." He yawned. "But let's get back and sleep first. Abe, no arguments." James also yawned, the contagion spreading, and all three made their way out of the building into The Pit, the military town of the Republic they called home.

  Chapter Three

  GOING FISHING

  GENERAL MARIETTA VERSETTI AND MERRION HAWKWIND sat alone in the War Room, its door closed and the guards outside. The only light shone from the oil lamps hung around the room's walls.

  The Commander of The Republic, and her most trusted friend, contemplated the large map spread across the centre wooden table.

  "It's almost time," said Merrion, eating a small whorl of soft cheese. "They'll be here soon."

  "I know, my friend."

  "Are you going to tell them?"

  "Most of it." She studied the map. "Well, all of it. Which, as we both know, isn't much." She massaged the sides of her temples.

  I wish the damn Inquisition would just get on with it and invade, she thought. But no. Sitting outside the harbour, waiting, watching, building their damn forts on the island chain outside the mouth of the Bay. If it wasn't for the Vikings running the blockade, things would be even more dire. The supply situation is reaching critical.

  And why just sit there? Why send a small invasion force and not reinforce it? We were on our knees, my fleet destroyed, my army haggard, bled upon the sands defeating your invasion force, which, as it happened, wasn't the main force at all.

  Why?

  "We’ll go mad trying to work out why," said Merrion, reading his friend's mind. They both thought the same things, worrying at them like a playful dog, over and over. "Could be the Emperor's sense of humour, watching the Republic starve in a soup of fear and dread anticipation."

  Marietta sighed. She leaned back in her chair, ran a hand through her short hair.

  "I didn't want this," she said. "The armed forces, yes. But running the nation? I am a warrior, Merrion, not a politician. Solving disputes about petty property ownerships, or speaking to the Guilds about grain allocation in exchange for favours. Ugh. And don't get me started on taxation. My mama hated being made commander as much as I do. My gods could she get angry."

  "I might remind you Marietta, you did tell the War Council not to go, including your mother. That the idea of peace between our Republic and the Inquisition was folly and fraught with peril. But they wanted to appease the Emperor with nothing but nice words, token gestures, and mutual respect. Respect." He spat the word out. "What did it get them? And our only intact, fully formed army along as escort?" Merrion ran a hand across his throat. "Sending the Council's heads back in velvet boxes was a nice touch, however black, I must admit."

  "I think you spend too much time in dark places, Merrion." At least my mama and the First were killed quickly, in that mass burial pit. She hoped, anyway.

  "And you don't? Andrew mentioned something about a man called Chamberlain, who tried to appease a nasty dictator before their major war."

  "Oh yes. Hipler. Adolf Hipler. I read the report. I think. It's somewhere on my desk. Or under it."

  "I think you mean Hatler."

  "Hipler. Hatler. Whatever. He and the Emperor would get on fine."

  "No doubt, Marietta, no doubt. They'd burn the world then turn on each other."

  "Speaking of which, we can't really trust the Purity's captain, can we Merrion? Switching allegiances once, but twice?" Her face distorted, as if she'd just contemplated a plate full of live worms. "Gah."

  "He's been in solitary since he recovered from the gut wound Snorri gave him. How he’s alive is miraculous by itself. And, of course, we can't trust him. We also cannot afford not to."

  "If it is true, we need that more than anything else. With it, we can win the war. It's lucky Snorri is well and hale from that gunshot. He ran my ship onto the beach." She chewed on the tip of her pencil. "Vikings."

  "Your ship now? It was out of control. You know the price they paid for taking the ship more or less intact, and preventing self-sabotage."

  "And for that, Merrion, I will be forever in Beowulf's debt. But refloating and rearming the Purity, maybe I can repay it down the line. And yes, my ship. The Furia was smote. Giorvano did well just to stay alive after the pounding they took."

  "It seems half of Odinsgate is in Fairholm right now," said Merrion, finishing the cheese. "More Vikings come in with every blockade runner, cheery with anticipation of glorious battle. If Beowulf were to entertain thoughts of claiming Fairholm for himself and his people . . ."

  "I'm aware of that," said Marietta. "But are there alternatives? The Battle of Harmony Bay inflicted sixty-five percent casualty rates on our already diminished reserve Third Army. Our only forces left. Sixty-five. For the moment, I am taking Beowulf's word. He's come through on every promise he's made."

  She paused. "I wish I knew what bargain his father made to protect their city. Those black sea creatures, Merrion, are simply titanic."

  "They did help us out you know, according to captured prisoners. Cleaved through the meat of their armada, sinking half a hundred ships if not more, then disappeared as quickly as they came."

  They both studied the world map of Elysium. The brown parchment took up most of the table, inked outlines of coastlines added to it over the decades upon decades, knowledge bought in blood. And there be dragons. And unfortunately, the Inquisition.

  What good map wouldn’t be complete without a few good sea-serpents, their green scales already fading with age? The lamps flickered, and Marietta sipped from a flagon of wine. The map that showed so much and yet revealed great swathes of unknown lands, and their worrying questions. She pushed the wine back over to Merrion.

  "Lawrence and the others are starting to show signs like the rest," said Merrion. "Alcohol can only dampen down depression for so long." He took a
long draught.

  "The black dog that never sleeps. Well let's give them something to sink their teeth into. And maybe when we win, I can get back to better things with my time. Like somehow rebuilding the Furia and going fishing."

  "Aren't you already?" said Merrion, smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

  Marietta blushed.

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," said Marietta, standing up so fast her chair shot backward. Her fists clenched. Marietta's Chief of Security just sat there and laughed.

  "General. Half of The Pit's population know you sneak into her room late at night and leave before dawn. They're the latest newcomers. And famous. We haven't had newcomers in over a century and a half, except for your father. People pay attention, hence why they're grouped together. They’re extremely valuable. No wonder you visit."

  "We just talk, that's all." A loud knock rang upon the wooden and metal door. Her personal guards entered, and stood by each side. "Finally. Come."

  Merrion suppressed a snigger. "Saved verily by the bell," he said, standing up too.

  Swear to Gods, if I hadn't known him since childhood, I'd have throttled him by now, Marietta thought.

  Chapter Four

  THE EMPEROR'S WHAT?

  ELLA ARRIVED LAST, a few minutes after the rest. She brushed sand off her brown pants as quickly as she could, found a horse trough to rinse the sticky sea residue from them, then used her wet hands to try to tame copper-red hair that blew everywhere, except for golden roots an inch long. Amelia had helped with dyeing it last month. Half the house flooring now had red splotches. Ella greeted the guards standing outside the bunker, then made her way down the concrete steps into the underground War Room.

  "Hello everyone," she said, sitting on the first oval bench, "sorry I'm late. Amelia wanted to take the puppies down to the beach."

  "No worries," said Mick, handing her a skin of water to drink. "We only just got here ourselves."

  "Glad you could find the time," said Marietta. She stared at Ella, gulping down the whole bag of water. "Shall we begin?" she continued, eyebrows raised. "Merrion?"

  "Good Morning, all. Your arrival here brings certain questions to the fore. It is clear that science and technology has progressed on Earth — your Earth — by an order of magnitude in the last century or two."

  "The Industrial Revolution," said Thorfinn.

  "Yes," said Merrion. "One year ago, Fairholm was still in the horse-and-cart stage."

  "We know," said Mick. "I'm still picking shit out of my boots." Griffin elbowed him in the ribs. "Sorry."

  Merrion sighed, then continued. "We had a few steam engines, but crude, toylike contraptions. Same for our handful of machine presses and lathes, that before you arrived, we'd managed to — ah, acquire — and bring back. The Inquisition had the monopoly, well still has the monopoly to a degree, of being the recipient of anything brought to this world. Whoever finds it, keeps it. And as they grew bigger and bigger, that rate of finders keepers, as you say, only accelerated."

  "And then we arrived," said Ella, leaning forward.

  "Mighty convenient," said Laurie. "Like some damn pawns on a chessboard."

  "Yes," said General Versetti. "You are." She eyeballed Laurie, then each of the others in turn. "In case you have not realised, whoever or whatever brought you here, are the same forces that brought the dreadnought here. A generation before that, my father. Ships upon ships upon ships, for thousands of years, lost in a storm, and summoned."

  "Of course we know that," said Ella. "Right?" She gestured around the dim room. "But how is this relevant?"

  "It's relevant," said Marietta, "because I intend to harness that force."

  "You what?" said the others in unison.

  Laurie just gave a small, grim chuckle.

  "You want to harness the Gods?" said Beowulf Hffylson, King of the Vikings, who up to that point had remained silent.

  "No," said Marietta. "Just a little of the power." So I can obliterate the Inquisition, she added to herself. "But first, that monopoly has to end."

  "General, we are doing all we can," said Andrew. "In the last year, we've retro-engineered internal combustion engines based upon the bomber engines. Birthed your first Air Force, giving you the power of flight, and pretty damn near finishing modernising your armaments industry, so we can make bullets for our automatic weapons coming off the production line. That and a dozen other endeavours."

  "Not to mention taking your medicine out of the bloody Dark Ages," said Mick.

  "By any measure of success, those are stunning achievements indeed." She cast her eyes upon the ancient map, the only thing lit brightly in the deep, solid room.

  "But it's not enough. Numerically, the Battle of Harmony Bay decimated us. Our forces. Our fleet. Our people. At any moment, the Inquisition sitting out there could come on in and 'wipe the floor with us', as I think Mick would say. Their army must number in the multiple tens of thousands. Ours barely reaches four figures. And they too have discovered combustion engines, automatic weapons, field and ship artillery designed and based upon the dreadnought and more worryingly, if any of that wasn't bad enough, have access to the power of flight, according to Beowulf."

  She stopped, then paced up and down in front of the map table a few times, then stood still. No one spoke.

  "What we need, in essence, is a force multiplier. And you're going to get it for me."

  In the War Room, everyone sat silently, as the oil lanterns spluttered. In here, in this room, it all feels much simpler, she thought. Tangible.

  Laurie cleared his throat. "A force multiplier," he said, "as in, explosive shells? Big explosive shells, say I dunno, this wide?" He held his hands up, about a foot apart. "Say which go into the main guns of a certain stranded battlecruiser?"

  "Yes," said Marietta. Close enough. "That knowledge, the brains behind the technology. A raid upon the Emperor's Lair."

  "The Emperor's what?" said Mick, wiping water from his lips with the back of his arm.

  "The Emperor's Lair," said Merrion. "His Inquisition mountain stronghold, in which, it is rumoured, all his knowledge and learned men — scientists you call them, are kept. And thanks to the man Snorri gutted, we have confirmation."

  "Him?" said Lucius. "That's the damn source? The dreadnought Captain?"

  "When the Purity resupplied after they floated her, those supplies and artillery shells all came from the Emperor's own castle and stronghold. They have the means and the knowledge, to make those weapons plus Gods only knows what else. Your job — well my job too — ladies and gentlemen, is to go there and bring that knowledge back, as much as possible," said Merrion.

  "Err," said Andrew, "how exactly?" He glanced around the room for support.

  "This map is what we know of this world," said Merrion. "A lot of it has never been explored. Or, to be more precise, has been explored peripherally but any ships investigating any deeper never returned. In recent years, ship expeditions have been banned outright. So." He took a moment to stare at the map, rubbing his chin. "To avoid detection, I suggest we go the long way around. By my estimates, three months there, three back."

  "How?" said Laurie, at last. "We —"

  "Wonderful," said General Marietta Versetti. "Make it happen."

  Chapter Five

  THE RUSTY AXE

  "LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT," said Griffin that evening at the Rusty Axe. Merrion spoke to the landlord, said a few pleasant words, slid over a small bag of shiny Roman coins, and with a pair of guards out the front, the whole pub was theirs. He finished his beer, and burped. "We sail, somehow, halfway 'round this world, don't die, get into a King's castle, don't die, get the loot, don't die, make it back to the ships, sail back here, don't get eaten by monsters."

  "Pretty much," said Magnus.

  "And I thought people be crazy back home." He tossed his puppy a precious bacon rind, smuggled from the morning's breakfast. Athena devoured it. He got up, and walked around to behind the long bar counter and refille
d his tankard. Magnus slid his own empty clay mug over the wooden top, and Griffin filled it for him.

  "Thank you, Griffin," said Magnus. "Come on, where's your sense of adventure. It makes for an epic tale worthy of our kinfolk."

  "Being here is adventuring enough," said Griffin. "Let's get back, huh. The quiet break was good." They both made their way around the bar to the back room, and men shouting, the dog by their side. Athena joined the rest of the pack, playing tug of war with long bits of sailing rope, the dogs making as much noise as the men.

  "It won't work," said Merrion, throwing his hands up. "You can't just knock on the front door and barge straight in."

  "Ah, but they won't expect that," said Snorri. "We use the unexploded bomb from the bomber to blow open the gate, drive Hellsbaene right up to the factory, and kill anything that moves with machine-gun fire." Hands rubbed gleefully together.

  "With what ammunition?" said Laurie. "There's bugger all left and the new .50cal rounds are still weeks or months away, if they actually work! The Inka first wave was rather light on heavy machine guns, and the Purity expended it all before being taken. There's none."

  "Snorri's idea is reasonable," said Beowulf. He threw another log onto the fire, and tossed a thick stick to his great wolfhound Manx, who promptly bit it in half and dropped the pieces.

  "Reasonable?" said Merrion. "We still need to get in, and get out, which once the whole garrison battalion lights up, as you say Andrew, we'd be bottled in."

  "So, there's more to kill," said Snorri. "Perfect."

  Merrion snorted.

  Griffin and Magnus sat next to Ella, who scribbled pictures and numbers onto a notepad, trying not to get involved in the argument raging for the last hour. By the paper's edge, she'd laid her two necklaces. Merrion joined them.

  "Vikings," said Merrion. "No offence, Magnus."