The Eye of Odin

Part 3

I came around soon after, still woozy, and Wes and I were able to stumble into the small cave. Schuntzel and his mountaineers were already gone, leaving behind their non-essential equipment. As I recuperated, Wes smashed the crates that had carried the door's seal. He made an impressive pile of shattered wood, and using a few precious drops of kerosene, was able to get a blazing campfire started. I was downright comfortable compared to the miserable cold of the night before. Whatever kept the temple warmer than the surrounding mountain persisted, despite the removal of the Eye.

The next morning, I had recovered enough from the impact to start our descent. We made excellent time, rappelling rapidly down cliff faces that had taken hours to scale. We saw signs of Schuntzel's team all around us as well as discarded tins and rope, along with the occasional cigarette. We reached our modest base camp late in the day, the high latitude preventing true night from falling as the sun just dipped below the horizon before rising once more. Wes' suggestion that we rest before traveling back to town was tempered by my insistence that we make haste to report back that the Eye was in enemy hands.

We took a brief, unsatisfying nap before breaking down the larger tent. Cold food and an hour spent trying to coax our automobile into starting further dampened our mood. The drive back was agonizing. My body was already exhausted and sore from the climb and further aggravated by whatever had thrown me on the summit. The jostling bump of the uneven terrain didn't help.

The innkeeper seemed surprised to see us so soon, and my limping gait made her quickly suggest a warm bath. Although the idea sounded wonderful, I politely declined. The roadways back to the city were in far better condition, and by the time we crawled piteously onto the train to Oslo, I felt as though I were recovering. We got in contact with the major when we arrived at the capital. I had wrapped myself in thick undergarments below my wool uniform, and threw a sweater over that in addition. Men and women in similar winter garb moved past in the hotel's lobby, never giving me a second glance.

"We made it to the temple before Schuntzel's team, but the entrance was locked. They had the key," I said into the telephone, hearing the tinny response from the major, a thousand miles away.

"I'm glad to hear that you and the sergeant are safe, first and foremost. What can you tell me about the Eye of Odin?"

"Not much," I said tiredly, looking out across the lobby. "It's small, the size of an actual eye. Shifting colors, a silver bracket, and as soon as the Hun grabbed it, I was sent flying from the chamber."

"Interesting," the major muttered, "And you didn't see any tree above the temple?"

"Nothing but snow and sky," I said.

"However, lieutenant, you sound terrible," he admonished, and I winced. "Take a day or two to get back to top shape. You never know what's waiting for you over the horizon."

"As long as it isn't more snow, I'm looking forward to whatever it is." I sighed. The major laughed and cut the connection. I settled the earpiece back beside the telephone and left the booth, finding Wes at the bar with a glass of gin and an absurd, furry local hat that he had adopted into his uniform the instant he saw it.

"What did the major have to say?" he asked, taking a sip.

"He said I should take a long bath and sleep for 24 hours straight."

"That sounds correct. Are you going to listen to him?"

"I think I might, for once," I said, staring at the clear drink with a wrinkled nose.

"Would you like a glass, Lieutenant?" Wes asked innocently, and I was quick to shake my head.

"If you'd had a hangover like I did the last time, you wouldn't be drinking either." I thought back to waking up face down in the Paris catacombs and shuddered. I did, however, order hot chocolate the instant I could flag down the man tending bar. He gave me a curious look, but returned soon after with the non-alcoholic drink.

"Somehow, I can't picture you drinking, but I can picture you with a hangover," Wes mused, rolling his glass between his fingers. "I just imagine you slightly more irritable than usual."

"You won't have to imagine if you keep this up," I said, sipping cautiously at my hot chocolate.