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

but rags when it entered the fire, and soon those were black smoke twisting into the sky. The blue skin beneath the fine clothes remained. Even as it blackened and bubbled, it didn’t burn away. Hyrrokkin’s gift kept the dumb meat alive, even in the fire’s mouth.

Gunnar went back to Arthur’s limbless torso. He stared down at the jötunn’s pathetic face and shook his head. “You know, once upon a time I thought we’d be friends,” he said. “Do you ever wonder how things might have been if you hadn’t fucked me over?”

Real fear had taken root in Arthur’s eyes. “Hear me out,” he pleaded. “You don’t know what comes next. I can help you. Listen to me. You need to hear this.”

The jarl scoffed at the jötunn’s words. “Answer the question. Think about it. What would our lives have been like if you hadn’t screwed me for a lousy promotion?”

“How could I know then?” Arthur said. “I thought it was just a job, Gunnar. I had no idea where it all ended.”

Gunnar hoisted Arthur into the air by one horn and hauled his body to the ceremonial fire. “That’s the whole point, you stupid asshole. You never even considered a better way. If we’d worked together, maybe we could have stopped Kyrolina’s idiotic plan from ever getting this far. Maybe none of this had to happen. But, no. You set off the chain reaction that almost ruined my life, nearly ended the world, all to put a few extra dollars in your pocket and pad your resume.”

“Stop,” Arthur begged. “I was wrong, okay? I fucked up. Let me help you make it better. Think about it, Gunnar. I could be your most useful ally.”

Gunnar shook his head. “No, you think about it. About all the needless pain and horror you caused or let happen. Think about that while you burn.”

With that, the jarl tossed his hated enemy into the heart of the ceremonial fire. He watched while the jötunn burned, his flesh blackening. Arthur screamed and screamed, his voice tattered until, at last, it gave out. But his whimpers went on, the endless cry of a fool who’d realized he’d gambled everything on a sure thing.

And lost.

“It’s over,” Ray whispered as she took Gunnar’s hand. “Thank you.”

Mimi slipped in beside and wrapped an arm around his waist, while Bridget took her other hand. The four of them stared at their enemy in the fire, wondering how long he would last, and what the future held.

Gunnar decided the future wasn’t important just then. All that mattered was that they’d saved the world. They were safe together. The rest would work itself out. The time for battle was over. Now the healing and rebuilding could begin.

“Let’s go home,” Gunnar said.

They turned their back on the ceremonial fire and began the trek across the field of the dead.

Gunnar felt empty. His victory had been far less sweet than he’d imagined over these past years. Even knowing how Arthur suffered wasn’t enough. Killing the jötunn had ended a threat, but it wouldn’t buy back all the lost time or lonely nights the fucker had caused. The jarl pondered that, his eyes on the horizon.

“What the hell?” Mimi snarled. “Gunnar!”

The völva kicked at a dead hand locked around her ankle, its fingers closed like a vise. The jarl stamped down on the thing’s arm and yanked Mimi away from it, but more of the dead crawled toward them. Those who were whole struggled to regain their feet, while torn limbs dragged themselves toward the group.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Hyrrokkin called from the heart of the fire. Her naked body glowed within the inferno, and her horns jetted smoke into the sky. “You’ve cost me a great deal today, Odin’s pawn. Consider these hungry dead my parting gift. We will meet again.”

The fire leapt from one corpse to another, setting them ablaze, fueling their hunger. The undead horde shambled toward Gunnar and the völva, eager to taste their flesh.

Chapter 27

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, ODIN,” Gunnar shouted. “Can we catch one lousy break?”

The burning dead had surrounded them. Bodies lurched into motion and threw themselves at the jarl and his völva, who’d formed into a defensive circle out of instinct. Mimi’s blades flashed like shooting stars, ripping limbs off the zombies as they attacked. Ray drilled arrows into the faces of their enemies in a rapid-fire blur. Bridget’s axe chopped undead in half with every swing, showering her with blood and gore. And Gunner’s spear dove through one undead skull after another, as smooth and mechanical as a piston in a finely tuned engine.

But even their furious assault couldn’t hold the dead at bay forever. Already the zombies had forced the team into a tighter circle until their shoulders touched as the noose closed around them. In a few more minutes they’d be up to their eyeballs in burning corpses. There wouldn’t even be room to swing a knife.

“What do we do?” Ray shouted.

“Fight!” Gunnar growled. “Kill them for as long as you have breath.”

Bridget backhanded one monster with a greaved forearm, smashing its brains out before burying the head of her axe in another foe. “This is not our time to die. Do not give up, sisters!”

Gunnar wasn’t sure how they’d survive. There were too many undead, and he heard the war cries of living creatures approaching. The battle was grinding them all down. Small wounds appeared on their arms and faces, little nicks added up to sap their strength and slow their swings. As powerful as the jarl and his völva had become, there were limits to even their strength.

Even worse, the dead gave up no hamingja when they fell to the ground.

“Should we give Gunnar our sight?” Mimi asked. “Maybe he can use it to clear a path out of here.”

Bridget drove the butt of her axe’s handle through the eye socket of a burning zombie. She kicked its body away, then whirled the weapon over