Under A Winter Sun by Johan Dahlgren (ink ebook reader txt) 📕

time and time again, it keeps getting up, like a monster in a nightmare.

The heavy slugs from the Sentinel's autocannon pound the ship.

Flames lick one engine and the lower hull is pockmarked with bullet holes. If even one of those rounds has breached the hull, we can't go orbital. The Sundowner can't take much more.

The thump of another Sentinel approaching reaches my ears. Oh, for fuck's sake.

We have to get out of here before the other mech arrives. The Sundowner can't survive the onslaught of two Goliath Sentinels.

Hildr looks at me with desperation in her eyes. “There's no way we can get to the ship.”

“Oh, yeah? I hadn't noticed.” I scan the site for a way to even the odds. One bunker has a heavy anti-aircraft gun mounted on top. If we could get to that, we could lay down fire on the Sentinel from two directions. That might be enough to bring it down. The only problem is a platoon of Goliath warriors doing their damnedest to get the gun trained on the Sundowner. Time for divine intervention.

“Finn, we need that cannon.”

“Jawohl.” His knuckles go white around his sword hilt. He's impatient to fight, and I can't blame him. I don't mind following Jagr's ass, but I like to make my own mistakes.

Finn disappears around the hangar to fall upon the enemy from behind.

The priest has gone down on his knees in the snow, clasped his hands and closed his eyes. His lips move silently. Not very helpful, but at least he's not trying to hug anyone at the moment. Small mercies.

I tap my communicator.

“Jagr, Braden? Are you there?”

“Braden here.” She sounds tense. “What took you so long?”

“We got held up with some shit. There's another mech incoming. We need to leave.”

“Can't put this thing down while that bucket of bolts is shooting at me,” she calls.

“Finn is on it. Give him a minute.”

From our position, it's impossible to see what goes on inside the bunker. We can only guess from the sound.

Seconds later the gun turret enters the fray, and the Sentinel goes down. It's torn to pieces by the hypervelocity shells from the anti-aircraft gun, and it explodes with a satisfying crump.

Twenty seconds later Finn returns.

If an artist ever needed inspiration for an image of Thor the Thunder God, she could use a snapshot of Thorfinn Wagner coming out of that bunker. His long, blond hair and beard are matted with blood. His bare chest is scratched and blood runs from half a dozen bullet holes. He looks magnificent as he strides across the battlefield, sword in hand. As if to drive the point home, the bunker explodes behind him.

Goliaths in cover around the airfield recognise Finn and charge, but Braden is too quick for them. The Sundowner vomits tracer-death over them at a thousand rounds per minute. Those guns can punch through a decimetre of solid plascrete. What they do to unprotected Goliath flesh is obscene. There will be a long line outside Valhalla tonight.

Finn catches up and Skallagrim greets him with a bear hug. Finn is slick with sweat and blood, but the musician doesn't seem to mind. Quite the contrary.

“Bad guys taken care of,” I report to Braden. The Sundowner swings around and touches down on the concrete. The ramp lowers and Jagr and Soledad are there with assault rifles to cover us.

I dash across the landing pad with the others close behind.

Jagr waves at us. “Run.”

The priest pulls up his robes and picks up an impressive pace across the snow-covered concrete. He makes it to the ship first.

As we reach the ramp, the new mech enters the arena and opens fire.

Jagr taps her communicator. “They're in. Go, go, go.” Braden takes us airborne.

We grab on to anything we can reach and hold on tight. As soon as the landing struts leave the pad we drift sharply to the left and almost collide with a hangar. That burning engine must be seriously damaged, and it's only Braden's skill that keeps us in the air.

The unexpected manoeuvre saved us from taking a burst from the mech. Within seconds, we're too far away for even the mech's powerful weaponry to reach us. Braden makes a pass over the compound and the full extent of the carnage is visible through the closing ramp.

Hundreds of Goliaths lie dead in the snow around the hall. Eirik's forces have seized control, and they round up Ragnwald's men. They beat them into lines and tie their hands behind their backs.

For a second or two, I can't understand what they are lined up for. Then the immense tree comes into view and I wish I hadn't looked. Eirik's forces heard the loyalists to the giant ash where they are hanged. One by one they are dragged into the air on thick ropes, pulled by gangs of grim-faced Goliaths. Even from this distance, I recognise the man putting the nooses around their necks. It's the evil hunchback advisor, Geirmund the Cunning, cackling to the heavens as he coldly murders man after man. The glowing staff planted in the snow beside him casts an eerie sheen over the macabre scene.

The two giant black birds I saw earlier sit in the highest branches of the ash, cawing their guts out. It looks like they are laughing. One of them looks straight at me.

The ramp closes and I crash to the floor.

We made it.

We Have a Priest Now

“Take us back in,” Jagr shouts to Braden as we enter the troop bay.

“Turning back,” comes Braden's voice over the intercom, accompanied by her ubiquitous beats. The ship banks a little too hard to port as we angle back.

I look from Soledad to Jagr. “Are we turning back? Why are we turning back?”

“We will level that fucking place,” Jagr snarls.

“What? Why?”

“They killed him. They fucking killed him.” She looks like she refuses to accept what's happened.

“Why do you care? He was just a local chieftain.”

“Not Ragnwald.” Jagr shakes her head viciously. “Father.”

“Who?” I'm confused.

“Our contact. Thane. They will fucking