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

“The what of who?” I rub my gloved hands together, trying to rub warmth into them.

“The well of Mimr,” Hildr repeats, and the Goliaths spit in unison. “It's the legendary well where Odin placed the head of the god Mimr.”

“Why?”

“To let him drink from the fountain of wisdom.”

But of course.

“That is a tale for children,” Finn says.

Hildr looks thoughtful.

“Don't you remember the stories Geirmund told us when we were children, Finn? He said he had access to the well, and he travelled there in the greatest longship ever built. What if he wasn't making it up? He could have been talking about this place.”

She looks at Finn and her brother. “What if he has access to Mimr?”

I frown. “What, there's an all-seeing head at the bottom of that hole?” I indicate the door with my rifle.

Hildr nods. “There could be.”

“Who's Mimr?” asks the priest of no one in particular.

“Mimr was an Aesir, killed and beheaded by another race of gods, the Vanir,” Hildr replies.

Rivera looks horrified. “Your gods are not very nice.”

I don't hear Hildr's reply because an icy spear of realisation pierces my gut.

A god in the ice.

In icy skies, a ship is found, a god will call. Wasn't that what Skallagrim said in that old poem? Was he talking about this ship? And this Mimr guy? But that's impossible. Unless … Unless whoever wrote that poem knew about this ship. I never believed in prophecies, and I refuse to start now.

Jagr punches my shoulder.

“You look like you saw a ghost, Perez.” She narrows her eyes. “Something wrong?”

I wipe a hand across my face and my heart slows to a more normal rhythm. “No, I'm good. Carry on.”

“Whatever.”

Jagr interrupts a heated religious debate between Hildr and Rivera.

“I've had enough of severed heads for one day. Perez, you're on point with Finn, Rivera, you're with me. Hildr and Skallagrim at the back. Stay quiet unless we're discovered. Then you shoot first and ask questions later. And shoot to kill.”

The priest raises a finger to object, but Jagr ignores him. “Let's go.”

I step into the darkness and set foot on the old bridge.

The light drones follow me at shoulder height, illuminating the dangerous path before me.

Make Sure They Write Songs About Me

Halfway across the bridge Rivera takes a wrong step, gives a piercing scream, and plunges to his death.

Or he would have if Hildr hadn't grabbed him by the robes and pulled him back to safety. She drops him unceremoniously on his head on the bridge.

Jagr swears. “Now they know we're here.”

The devastated expression on Rivera's face when he realises he might have jeopardised the mission is almost comical. He tries to stand up, but his knees tremble too much, and he drops on his ass again.

I feel sorry for the little guy and walk back to the others. “If they have any sensors set up, they already knew we were coming.” That does not seem to make the priest any calmer.

Jagr glares at Rivera. “No more fuck-ups. I'm watching you, priest.”

Rivera swallows and gets to his feet.

I'm not sure why Jagr let him tag along. Maybe as a lightning rod for disaster to protect the rest of us.

The young priest lays a hand on Hildr's muscular arm.

“Thank you, lady Hildr,” he says. “I owe you my life.”

Hildr grunts. “Pay me back later.”

If possible, Rivera grows even paler. I pat him on the back to boost his spirits, and he almost jumps into the abyss again. Bailey Rivera is not the bravest soul on Nifelheim.

We reach the opening at end of the bridge. Since the ship is at an incline, the door has been cut at an angle in the bulkhead. There's a passageway leading deeper into the ship, with smaller passages branching off to the sides. The floor has been levelled by welding steel plates to the walls. Sharp corners have been covered in layers of leather to prevent them from slicing someone's head open. The thought of a Goliath health and safety inspector making sure they cover up all hazardous areas of a giant ghostship brings a smile to my face, and I can't help laughing.

“What is it, Perez?” Jagr whispers.

“Nothing. Just thought of something funny,” I whisper back.

“Focus, Perez. Move.”

“Ma'am, yes ma'am.” I throw a mock salute and step through the door with Finn close behind.

The others stay behind.

“Do you see anything?” Jagr asks over the communicator after we've gone twenty metres down the passage.

“Nope, more doors.”

There's the occasional crescent moon insignia decorating the walls at regular intervals.

The Galahad had a Muslim crew. In the greatest social experiment of all time, some bright politician had the idea to homogenise the people on each colony ship. The Galahad was Muslim, the Gormenghast was Christian, and the Gilgamesh was Hindu. I'm not sure that was a brilliant idea. I mean, take the churches back on Elysium. As soon as we landed, the bickering and fighting between factions began. We need an external enemy, religious or otherwise, to keep our shit together.

Something catches my eye. “No wait, there's something here.”

There's a weak bluish light from a shaft angling down into the depths. I clap my hands to turn the drones off.

“There's a light,” I whisper. “Get in here.”

“There is something down there.”

“What is it, Aeryn?”

“Something bad.”

“Thanks for spooking me.”

“Always here to help.”

As we wait for the others to catch up, a crackling noise echoes up the shaft. A blue bolt of electricity arcs between the walls. It writhes there for a second, then dances off down the shaft towards the distant light.

Wagner does his sign against evil. “Mighty Thor, protect me.” Goliaths are hard to scare, and this is about as scared as I've ever seen him.

There are footsteps behind us, and then Jagr claps me on the shoulder. “What's down there?”

“No idea.”

“How far does it go?”

We stand around the opening, trying to see what's down there.

“Can't tell,” I venture after a moment.

“We could find out.” Jagr pulls the heavy backpack from her shoulders. “Soledad sent