Viking Tomorrow by Jeremy Robinson & Kane Gilmour

Author:Jeremy Robinson & Kane Gilmour [Robinson, Jeremy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Breakneck Media
Published: 2017-10-22T06:00:00+00:00

37

The world was ice and snow. So familiar. It had been that way for most of her young life. At just twenty-four, Val was younger than all the men under her command, including the German. She had been on her own for eighteen years, scavenging, making due, fighting to survive.

All of it had taken place in ice and snow.

But now they were stranded, the drifts and ravines of snow in the mountains so deep that no man or beast could make it through the mountains until the summer. Personally, Val thought the mutant bear from Sweden would have stood a chance, but she and her men were exhausted, and despite their restlessness, the chance to heal and regain their strength was crucial and somewhat welcome.

Unfortunately, the ghosts of the last several hundred miles followed them. Werther passed away in his sleep just five weeks into their stay at the spectacular castle. The man’s death, though natural and from a long life well lived, still cast a pall on the celebratory nature of the group’s initial stay, as the snows and storms had swept in, blanketing the landscape in brilliant white. At first, the men had grumbled that they would be stuck for the winter. But once old Werther had introduced them to the food and wine—hundreds of bottles of different vintages, stretching back hundreds of years—the mood had shifted.

Werther had explained to them all about Schloss Neuschwanstein, the formal German name for the mammoth castle. Originally built for a king, the building had been host to visitors since 1886, and then when the annihilation times came, Werther’s ancestors had cared for the palace, defending it against invasion and the passage of time, life fairly comfortable with the large array of solar panels installed high on the ramparts at the back of the castle. At the edge of the mountains, the structure had fared strangely well in the earthquakes of the Utslettelse—which the old man had called the Aufhruhr—and only minor repairs had been needed. Werther was born in a bedroom on the fourth floor of the castle’s main building, and he had known the place as home and sanctuary for his entire life.

Shortly before he died, he had called Val to his small study and sat in a huge, overstuffed chair by a fireplace. The man always had a kindly air about him, but on that evening he had been grave.

“I understand your story, dear Val. Your mission to the Floating City beyond the mountains. If there is a chance that you can save the remnants of the human race, you must try, of course.”

Val sat silent, curious to hear what the man had to say.

“You understand that I am quite old, and I will not last though another winter after this one—”

“Why say such things?” Val interrupted.

The old man waved his hand dismissively. “It is true, and we both know it. Listen now. There is no one else to care for this place when I go. I know you need to press on south of the mountains when the weather clears and the roads are free of snow.

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