Fimbulwinter: A Norse LitRPG Progression Fantasy (Warriors of Valhalla Book 2) by Tim Steiner

Author:Tim Steiner [Steiner, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tim Steiner
Published: 2024-04-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XVII – A Secret World

The city council booked their flight. It wasn't a fighter jet, but a private one. A helicopter would've been slower.

"Alright, Mr. Olson, starting descent," said the pilot through the open cockpit door as the plane bumped, crossing through blackened clouds. "Might take a while with this weather, though."

Behind him, Brynhilde kept a sour expression, looking through the window.

"I curse the day the Apocalypse happened," the pilot said, turning back to face them as a wind pocket made the plane bump again. "It's... inhuman to fly like this."

"It's the least of what's happened, to be honest," Blake said.

"Right, right," said the pilot. "Anyway, tell your girlfriend to fasten her seat belt. Lady, please, it's for your own safety."

"Bryn," Blake mumbled, looking back.

"This?" she said, lifting both ends of it. "Again? It's pointless."

"Do it, as a courtesy," Blake repeated. The five Gothic warriors he carried, however, had followed every instruction of the flight deck.

The pilot and co-pilot went through their pre-landing checks, communicating with the ground of the private field they were using, while Blake fidgeted with the hilt of his sword. He looked back at his crew, Svafa, casting spells of illusion, ensuring no Jotnar could trace them. Bryn... looking completely aloof. He couldn't stop thinking of the amazing time they had when flying toward Washington, right before all hell broke loose. He felt closer to her than ever before in that moment, and right after. Now, she was reclusive again, her emotions a blur of anger and regret.

The plane drifted downward, and Blake felt the turbulence increase, making every section of the plane shake and bump as if they were driving over sand dunes. The pilot seemed to lose control for an instant, and both he and the co-pilot started cursing. They circled and approached twice, failing, turning around, and finally landing violently.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have landed... 25 miles south of San Angelo airport, private field. Flight authorized by the Houston City council."

The idea had sounded good in his mind, but with runways, airports and security checks, Blake thought he should've relied on Asgardian flying ships instead.

They disembarked quickly, regrouping and leaving the landing field. Blake constantly observed his shield for Jotun trackers or guardians. Svafa and Brynhilde walked close to him, and the group of armed barbarians observed the landscape as they left the clear zone. All of them were silent, their muscles tight and ready for action.

Their hike took around an hour, walking away from the city, into a protected forest area.

"Right there," Blake said, pointing at a massive rock structure across the field, around three hundred feet away.

Athanaric moved closer to Blake, his large spear on his shoulder, and a massive square shield on his other arm.

"You've got the map, Athanaric?"

"Aye, chief," he extracted it from his leather bag and passed it to Blake. It had been collected during hours of interrogation of Jotun captives. It described the section from which these Jotnar had emerged. He took a look. The lines were rough and barely understandable.

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