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

room, her hands tied behind her back. Bridget looked up at him, her eyes white as a clean sheet of paper. “Time’s running out,” she whispered. “Hyrrokkin comes with the noonday sun.”

Before she could say another word, Gunnar’s vision soared into the air. He saw the building where the völva was trapped from high above, its timber walls surrounded by ancient bones and enormous tusks carved with glowing runes and corrupt sigils. Jötnar danced through the luminous boneyard, howling songs of battle at the sky. The location burned itself into his mind.

A dark cloud of rage passed over Gunnar’s thoughts, and he imagined every one of those dancing pricks burning, their bodies torn asunder by his rage, their limbs hacked to bloody pieces.

Several of the jötnar froze and looked up at the sky. A shadow blew across the sun, and fear kindled in their eyes.

Gunnar didn’t let himself revel in their terror, though. He had what he came for.

He knew where Bridget was.

And her time was running out.

“LET’S GO GET HER,” Gunnar said as he helped Mimi and Ray to their feet.

“That was something else,” Ray said, her voice still a little shaky. “You keep throwing those curveballs, Mimi.”

“I like what I like,” the völva said, and gave Ray a quick slap on the ass.

The trio left the lodge’s heart and found their new addition. The bodyguard yanked open the Hall of Battle’s door and let out a long, low whistle. Twenty matching sets of chain mail with helmets adorned wooden statues lining the room’s walls. Battle axes and swords lay across the statues’ outstretched arms. The weapons looked sharp, the armor sturdy. But what really caught Gunnar’s eyes were the four armor stands at the end of the hall. The gear there was beyond amazing, and it was meant for him and the völva.

“Oh, pretty,” Ray said when they reached that side of the room. She lifted an ornate bow from the armor stand and balanced it on her palm. Golden horns adorned the tips of the curved wood, and a pair of quartz crystals were embedded in the arms above and below the leather-wrapped grip. The bowstring, a gleaming strand of braided metal, hummed when the völva lightly stroked it. “This armor isn’t bad, either.”

The four matching suits were polished silver chain mail under breastplates and matching greaves. The völva’s suits had no helms, but gleaming torcs with a gemstone matching each of their dots set into the brow. Gunnar’s armor came equipped with a golden helm. He expected it to be too heavy to be practical, but when he lifted it from the stand, he discovered just how light it was. Despite the thickness of the metal, it weighed almost nothing. The armor was the same. Heavy protection without the added weight would be a huge advantage in the coming battle.

“Where are the horns on that thing?” Mimi asked.

“That’s a myth,” Gunnar said. “Viking helmets didn’t have horns. Don’t believe everything you see in movies.”

“Well, excuse me, Professor,” Mimi said. “Look how cute this knife is.”

She lifted one of a pair of long knives from one of the armor stands and brandished it threateningly. The blade, a seax, was a little over a foot long, its single cutting edge so sharp it sliced the light from the torches into rainbows along its length. Mimi twirled the weapon around her hand, caught it expertly, and plunged it back into its sheath without looking. “Holy shit,” she said. “I know knife fu.”

Gunnar chuckled, then peeled out of his clothes and into the armor. The völva followed suit, and soon the three of them were clad in their new gear. Ray slung a quiver of crystal-tipped arrows over her shoulder, while Gunnar retrieved his spear from where it rested against the stand. Mimi practiced drawing and sheathing her knives, a wide grin splitting her face.

Gunnar took the battleaxe and weapon belt off the stand meant for Bridget. He wanted to bring the entire suit of armor with him, but that wasn’t practical. He secured the axe to the belt and slung it over his shoulder like a makeshift harness. The völva would need it if they had to fight their way out. The jarl couldn’t help but smile when he imagined Bridget whipping her weapon around, white ponytail flying above her like a battle pennant.

The group left the Hall of Battle and marched toward the stairs. The residents of the lodge watched them, low whispers of admiration flickering through the crowd. Gunnar suddenly realized what the legendary heroes must have felt like as they marched to battle. It was unsettling and gratifying, all at once.

“Hey, wait up!” Erin called after them. She raced to catch them as they reached the stairs. “Let me come with you. Dad’s heavy weapons still work. You could use the backup.”

Gunnar wanted to accept the young woman’s offer. Any help in the coming battle might tip the scales in their favor. But he knew she wasn’t ready to face the jötnar. The virus hadn’t changed her. As strong and brave as Erin was, as any of the lodge’s residents were, she was only human. Against the monsters they would soon face, none of them would stand a chance. “Thank you,” he said, “but I need you to stay here and keep an eye on the lodge and my people.”

The words felt strange coming out of his mouth, but there was no denying their truth. The refugees living in the lodge were his people, and he was their jarl.

“Please,” Erin sighed. “Don’t put me on babysitting duty.”

The big man put a finger under Erin’s chin to raise her eyes to him. “This is not babysitting. Whoever’s got Bridget could use her as bait in a trap. They might send jötnar here while we’re gone. What’ll happen to those kids if you aren’t here to defend them? I’ll be back before you know it, with Bridget over my shoulder.”

Erin threw her arms up and stomped