A MAN'S GOT TODO WHAT A MAN'S GOT TO DO ...
He didn't pick this fight, He didn't even choose to own the knife; the knife chose him. And then, form a distance and still in its casing, the knife killed his best friend. That's what started it: Arabs with AK's in the middle of a US missile farm in Germany, where they had no business being, except for the knife put them there.
But the knife left a trace of its true owner. Odin Far Seer. From that trace our hero begins a quest, not for gold and not for glory, but for vengeance. Vengeance against the gods themselves. He will travel into the bowls of the Earth, into the very Hell of Norse mythology, and he will have vengeance in full measure - but vengeance is only the beginning. For in the end, Randy Barnes has been summoned by the Fates, not to destroy the gods but to save them form Ragnarok - and save the rest of us, too.
WHO'D SAID HELL WAS MURKY?
I stood transfixed. The lights were a kaleidoscope gone mad, shifting down the long dark tunnel, rushing closer as though space itself were collapsing. The back of my brain whispered a warning to the front, but I wasn't listening. What could it be
I stood there beside the fissure with my mouth hanging open, staring as the flood of lights and noise rushed at me out of the darkness, and didn't have the sense to get out of the way. My ears popped again and a freight train noise roared in my ears, its thunder squinted against brilliant light. It leaped off the floor as high as my head, showering in fountains and spurts like molten steel.
With the air a solid wall of sound beating at me. Instinct finally took over and shoved me into the fissure, bruising ribs and tearing open my injured back and knees again. I yelled and heard nothing but the roar permeating the rocks. I found myself panting as terror took hold. Then I forced myself to face whatever it was that came sweeping down the cave.
Thunder hurt my skull. Stone chips stung my face.
Then I saw the eyes.