Valhalla Virus by Nick Harrow (best management books of all time TXT) 📕

“I’ll keep it brief,” Gunnar promised. “Let me have it.”

Mimi and Ray leaned back against the nearest building and held hands. The dots on their foreheads grew bright for a moment, and threads of power flowed from them to Gunnar.

The Valknut throbbed with icy power, and Gunnar felt it take over for his mortal eye. The world was very different when seen through the mystic stone. The sun was a pale white disk just visible through banks of heavy snow clouds. Colors were muted, the light harsher and the shadows deeper.

The jarl took a deep breath and concentrated on the connection he felt to Mimi. It seemed stronger somehow, as if the second rune he’d gained had tied him closer to the völva. In fact, when he thought about Ray, his feelings for her had deepened. While he was still attached to Bridget, the distance between them made their bond fainter and more difficult to focus on. He’d hoped to find her through their ties, but that proved too difficult. The other völva would have to locate their sister. First, though, they needed to reach the lodge.

Ghostly golden outlines appeared in the distance. Those had to be the jötunn patrols. He turned in a circle to survey his enemies’ positions. The jarl counted five smaller groups nearby, and a dozen or so much larger ones a few blocks farther out. Gunnar watched the closer patrols for a few moments and realized they weren’t random. Someone had organized the jötnar to march in circular, overlapping patterns around the Strip. Without this ability to see their locations, Gunnar and the völva would’ve stumbled into trouble sooner rather than later.

“Are you okay?” he asked Mimi.

“I think so,” she replied. “That sucked the wind out of me, but I’m mostly recovered. Let’s get moving before the freak squads find us.”

“If you feel weak, tell me, okay?” Gunnar asked.

Mimi gave his hand a squeeze. “You got it, Jarly Tamale.”

“Really?” Gunnar asked.

“I’ve gotta million of ’em,” Mimi said with a grin.

Thanks to Gunnar’s newfound jötunn radar, the group made good time through the city. They only had to backtrack a handful of times, and then only a block or two. The patrols didn’t venture far from the Strip, either. Once the party passed the outer edge of the monsters’ perimeter, they picked up the pace. Gunnar kept expecting Ray to complain about how fast he was going, but she never said a word. The völva jogged alongside Gunnar with effortless grace. He wasn’t the only one gaining strength as he acquired runes.

They caught sight of the lodge an hour after they’d left New York-New York. It had changed even more in their absence. A palisade of sharpened logs lashed together with links of sinew and woven fibers surrounded the lodge. The top story of the surface house had a peaked roof fashioned from ribs of arched branches and sod, with tree limbs stabbing through it to scrape at the sky. A single window looked out over the gate from the end of the longhouse, and a square of tanned hide covered it. Thick timbers, secured with iron bands, had replaced the damaged gate. The imposing structure would give invaders second thoughts.

The tension the jarl and the völva had felt dissipated a bit as they approached the lodge. As dangerous as their trek out of the Strip had been, as much as they were all worried about Bridget, there was something comforting about coming home.

And this place was home. Gunnar couldn’t imagine ever using that name for anywhere else. The hint of a smile broke through his frown at that thought.

“Last one to the lodge is a rotten egg!” Mimi slapped Gunnar on the ass and took off like a shot.

“Cheater!” Ray yelped and raced after the other völva. Her legs were shorter, but she was determined not to lose and her strides quickly ate up the distance between them.

The bodyguard jogged after his allies. He’d rather watch the gorgeous women from his vantage behind them than try to win. When he reached the closed gate a few seconds after Ray, Mimi strutted around with her hands in the air. The völva both grinned from ear to ear as he approached.

“What a loser,” Mimi teased. “You didn’t even try!”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you two,” he chuckled, and swept her into his arms. He dangled her over his shoulder by one ankle, then hooked his free arm around Ray’s curvy waist and lifted her onto his hip. “You’re both so puny and weak compared to me.”

“Um,” Mimi said, “how do we get through this gate?”

That question had just occurred to Gunnar. The heavy barrier was sealed from the inside. There were no handles on the outside. Gunnar supposed he could climb over using the bands of iron as hand- and footholds. That would mean leaving the völva alone, though, which he did not want to do.

An idea occurred to him, and he lowered the women back to the ground. He scouted the rutted trail for the right tool for the job and found what he was looking for a few seconds later. He hefted the egg-shaped rock, bounced it on his palm twice, then reared back like a pitcher winding up for a fastball. His arm rocketed forward, and the stone soared over the gate and through the hide-covered window on the top floor.

Even at this distance, Gunnar heard the rock clatter against the inside of the house. If Deke was home, there was no way he could have missed that sound. Gunnar and the völva waited for a response. Seconds later they heard the creak of hinges as the house’s door opened, then footsteps approaching the gate.

“Who goes there?” a strange man’s voice called out.

The man on the other side of the gate wasn’t Deke or his son, Mark. A thread of worry wormed its way down Gunnar’s spine. If someone had ambushed Deke while he was opening the Lodge,