My forward momentum came to an abrupt halt to the sound of my padded jacket tearing.

I wriggled like a supercharged earthworm through the slick mud. Cursing myself for not digging down deeper, and allowing the chain-link fence to take me in its relentless grip.

Those few extra thrusts of my battered utility shovel, held at bay by my nervous haste to get this part of my night-time quest out of the way.

It now lay on the wet grass next to the metal detector on the side of the fence I was attempting to reach. It was the best damn Christmas combined birthday present I’d ever gotten and now, flapping about in the dark, I had visions of being found stuck here in the morning. Tangled up in coat, mud and wire fence. Getting arrested and possibly losing my hard-gathered  equipment.

Images of flashing blue lights and sirens blaring in my mind unlocked reserves of wriggling, thrusting impetus that I hadn’t known I possessed, and finally, my coat tore free. Escaping the hole as desperately as I would the jaws of a monster, I made it to where my gear lay, and fell flat on my back gasping for air, a combination of panic and exertion. I wasn’t unfit, but I definitely wasn’t cut out for this kind of activity.

Getting to my feet I snatched up my haversack to search for the battered Mag-lite inside. Most of my gear was second hand but still good quality from the army surplus store. Unlike most of the other students on my Undergrad History course, I wasn’t rolling in mammy and daddy’s wealth.

 Thankfully for me, I was a lover of history and so having second hand gear fit in with my general ethos, anyway. Even my beloved metal detector was second hand.

Pointing the torch at the ground, I flicked it on to make a final scan of the ground to ensure I hadn’t dropped anything from  the back when I’d tossed it over the fence.

Satisfied, I swiftly turned it back off again, keeping it in hand ready to defend against imagined enemies with the long, heavy metal handle and delusions of combat prowess. I had no evidence to back up those delusions, and I cringed at the thought. I’d be about as much use as a chocolate fireguard in an actual fight.

Setting off up the slight hill, navigating through the trees Detector in one hand, torch in the other I moved unconfidently toward my target, jumping at every sound.

My mission, on this most auspicious and dreary of evenings? The archaeological dig at High Weald national park. Our ancient history lecturer, Professor Sax, was a volunteer at the site, and he talked about it more than he followed our syllabus. Normally, I would have been irritated. I was there to learn and needed to fly my course, if I had any hope of excavating my mother and brother from poverty.

Today, however, he had news. News so big that I somehow forgot for a moment that I wasn’t Indiana Jones and sent myself headlong on this wild quest for personal glory.  

You see, as much as I devoured any history, those who had changed the face of the world forever with will and military determination, held a special fascination. From the Romans to the Mongols, I was inspired by what could be achieved when humanity put their mind to a task. Above them all would always be the Vikings. Chief among them Erik Thorvaldsen or Erik the Red as he was more affectionately known, and his son, Leif Erikson. Not just formidable warriors, but brave explorers. Sailing into the great unknown on a few planks of well carved timber.

The fact that I was named Eric, and was blessed with red hair and the early sputtering of a sparse red beard, had barely anything to do with it. Admittedly, possessing red hair wasn’t too much of a blessing in today’s society and it wasn’t helped by my scraggly beard, which at twenty years of age I'd hoped would be in full force and it consistently let me down.

Either way, I digress. According to everything I knew about the history of Erik the Red and Leif Erikson, they had died in Greenland. But, according to my Professor, this battle lost to time suggested that might not be true. More intriguing for me, was that a warrior of epic proportions had died in this battle and that Viking was estimated to be over ten feet tall.

All that to say, this discovery was going to have repercussions across the world, and I was determined to have a small part of it.

That way, for years into the future when I read articles or saw books on the subject, I would know that I’d been there and bore witness to the remains in the ground, and, if the chance presented itself, help myself to the smallest of keepsakes.

It didn’t matter much to me what I managed to retrieve. As long as it was from the giant or one the famous Viking. The thoughts had me smiling. Being hit in the face by a wet low-lying branch as my thoughts wandered, did not.

A brief splutter and vigorous wipe of the spider webs now coating my face didn’t dampen my enthusiasm or terror at all, though I did resolve to keep my mouth closed as I continued—watching where I was going a little more attentively.   

Visibility was poor, but I knew that once I crested the hill it would be a straight shot down to the actual dig site. I’d scouted it out from beyond the fence a few hours prior as just another unsuspecting hiker enjoying the beauty of the forest. Once I had the lay of the land memorized and saw exactly where they were digging, or at least the large pavilion, I headed back to my car, parked in a nearby café to wait for night to fall.

The café was a smart looking building, constructed predominantly of pine, which gave a distinct Scandinavian vibe that fit with my mood and the food at the place looked amazing. It was damn expensive, too. Luckily, they made a nice cup of tea, which went well with the ham sandwiches I’d brought from home.

Approaching the top of the bank I slowed to move with extra caution, though I knew no one was around. The site would be interesting to most, but it was hardly the crown jewels and my earlier inspections indicated there wouldn’t be any physical security. I’d still come in from the side, away from the main paths to be extra sneaky.

As the shadow of the large pavilion came into view, I crouched there for a little while longer until I was certain no one was around before moving out of the tree cover and down the slick grassy bank.

The fine drizzle seemed to graduate into full rain as I progressed, causing a few heart lurching slips. With supreme skill or desperation, I managed to keep on my feet all of the way to the bottom, where I sped up across the well-trodden area around my target location. Reaching the side of the pavilion that was lined with porta-loos I used them for cover, crouching down, I placed the detector on the floor and slipped the torch in my pack to keep it dry. It was supposed to be waterproof, but with its age and the steadily growing torrent I didn’t want to take the risk.

With hands free, I got to work at the pegs holding the side of the canvas down.

Just like everything in life, it didn't go half as easily as I’d hoped, yet with perseverance, a few minutes later and with hands red, raw and numb with cold rain, I still wasn’t any closer to gaining entry.

Not to be defeated, I loosened the strap that restrained the shovel and wedged its steel blade under the thick metal peg. I developed serious doubts about this endeavor. What was I doing? This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a famous explorer and I definitely wasn’t Eric the Red. I was a… The peg came free with my efforts on the shovel. It had the effect of immediately cheering me up and deflecting me from my downward spiral of doubt. I moved onto the next peg.

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As it came free, the night sky suddenly flashed a bright blue-white light, blinding my dark adjusted eyes. At first I thought I’d been caught, but that worry disappeared with the crack of thunder that followed moments later. I dropped the shovel and began to heave on the now free section of canvas, the thunder and lightning cheering me on.

Up until now, the wind had remained relatively calm but as I yanked up on the canvas it began whipping up, causing the deluge to get in under my hood, stinging at my eyes. I didn’t even care about turning back now. I just wanted to get inside the tent and out of the insane weather. I’d checked the forecast before coming. It was only supposed to be a mild drizzle, which was due to dry up later in the evening. If I’d known this would happen, I would have happily waited a day.

As more pegs popped free, I dropped back to my knees and rolled under the now flapping section of Pavilion.

Gasping and panting at the severity of the weather. I only gave myself a second before reaching out and grabbing my detector, before sitting chuckling quietly to myself in the large dark tent.

I finally turned my torch on, keeping it low, pointed at the ground and enjoying the small comfort of the warm yellow light it emitted. Illuminating the edge of the actual dig site only six feet away from where I sat. I’d only damn well done it. Now all that was left for me to do was to grab a selfie and see if there was anything easy to pilfer.

I snatched up the detector and my soaking bag and jumped down into the five-foot-deep excavation feeling a mix of wonder and horror as my torch shone on the first of the partially exposed skeletons. At no point up until now had I considered how dread inducing being alone, in the dark, in an open cemetery would actually be.

But I was as pragmatic as I was keen to be done with this adventure and cast the light about to find the giant so I could be off, away home to a warm bed.

Where my torch had so far failed, another flash of light illuminated the entire pavilion, and revealed the figure I was looking for.

As the light died and the thunder followed almost immediately afterwards, I wanted to bolt. Fear was taking an incrementally stronger hold on my

The thrumming rain on the cloth roof and the howling wind seemed to be attacking the tent like a wild animal.

I honestly considered just sacking it off then. But I’d come so far… I headed to the skeleton I’d mainly come to see. All of the others remains almost in orderly lines behind the monster of a man.

As I finally stood over him, I noticed that a portion of his massive skull had been bashed in. Surrounded by black marks in stark contrast with the partially exposed cream-colored bones. He lay in an awkward position, one arm forward as if he was reaching for something.

On instinct, I focused my torch ahead of him to where he would be reaching. I had no idea why. It wasn’t as if whatever it was would still be there after a thousand years. I laughed grimly at my own stupidity and focused back on the body.

My analytical mind screaming at me. Why was this huge body left in this way? A thousand years ago this area would have been populated enough for someone to have found this battle. Unless, of course, they were all buried like this. But then who would bury all these people in such a strange position.

I dropped my pack on the floor, laying the detector next to it, before rifling through for my phone. The phone I had thankfully put in a plastic bag despite only expecting drizzle. I was a firm believer in preparing for the worst and expecting the be… actually no, I always expected the worst, too. Who was I kidding?

I pulled it from the clear freezer bag and despite my still numb fingers protests I brought the screen to life with a few well-rehearsed, almost subconscious taps to input my code.

I took a number of quick pictures, trying hard to keep my hands steady, before wrapping the phone back up and putting it back in the pack once more.

I should have left then, but the storm outside was at fever pitch now and I felt I had no choice but to hold off for a little while. The sensible part of me wanted to go back up to the flap I’d created and wait there for a quick exit should it be necessary. The part of me that had brought me this far, begged me to take something. Some other strange urge that I didn’t recognize in myself demanded to know what the giant had been reaching for.

The Strange urge won.

I dropped my pack again and pulled out a thick cloth wrap. I had difficulty untying it with my cold fingers, but soon, rolled out in front of me, my set of excavation tools. A couple of small trowels, the smallest being no wider than  my thumb. A number of thin metal picks and two brushes, one wire bristled, one soft bristled.

I shone the torch on the area in front of his hand. It had yet to be as deeply excavated as the skeleton itself. Clearly, the archaeologists had been focusing on the giant.

Kneeling down in the dry mud, I began scraping away at the crumbling soil. Knowing full well that I shouldn’t have been. If for no other reason than leaving behind clear evidence that someone had been here.

Yet I couldn’t stop myself. The pavilion lit up again and the different angle of light illuminated something I hadn’t yet spotted. A small smooth gray protrusion from the soil.

I grinned at the assistance and picked up the smaller trowel as well as one of the probe scrapers. Slowly but surely I unearthed the object.

Thankfully, I realized it was just a stone before I spent too much longer treating it like an ancient artifact.

Disappointed, I kept going. Seven carefully excavated stones later I resolved to excavate three more items, then I would stop. I didn’t have the mental constitution right now for this. Lightning flashed again. Thunder rumbling almost immediately.

It didn’t help my increasingly fraying nerves, and I was almost careless with the eighth item I found within the soil. But I stopped myself and remembered the training I’d received so far at university, then repeated the same professional, painstaking process.

The eighth stone was smooth and white and slowly revealed itself to be not your usual run-of-the-mill stone at all. For a start, it had been carefully engraved.

This was it, Something worth grabbing that would link me to this find forever.

My heart thumped like a drum in my chest as more was unveiled with my scraping and brushing. I shuffled around to one side to let the torch light fully illuminate my still half buried prize. It looked like a chess piece, or rather a king piece, from the Viking strategy game, Hnefatafl. The image of a king carved on the front and a complex twisting spiral on the back, from what I could make out so far.

As I marveled over what an amazing find, a pang of guilt stuck me like a lance to my conscience. Could I really take this ancient artifact? There was no doubt it would be incredibly valuable. I stared at it for a while working through my emotions. Then shrugged. “Let’s at least get you free. We can leave you here for the archaeologists. It’ll be a nice surprise for them and an even greater story for me. I’ll even take a snap of us together.”

The three-inch figure finally came free of the earth. I swallowed reverently as it moved a fraction of an inch, then delicately and reverently picked it up to finish off the cleaning.

That’s when the lightning struck my head.

I couldn’t even be sure as my body locked up, vibrating at a sickening frequency. My insides felt as though they would explode. My vision was lost, replaced by intense blue, white light. All these sensations combined to leave no space for coherent thoughts in my mind. When the darkness finally enveloped me, it was a welcome relief.

------

My eyes flickered open. I was lying on my back. The dim gray sky was visible through the almost perfectly symmetrical circle in the pavilion roof above. My first surprise was that I was still alive.

The second came a moment later as words flashed across my Vision.

>< King Piece Activated. Baldur’s Champion Initiated.><

I rubbed at my eyes, unable to make sense of anything. As I looked around, the words disappeared. All that mattered right now was my need to get out of here. If I was found, I could kiss my university place goodbye. I’d be lucky to stay out of prison.

Getting to my feet should have been tough after just being hit by lightning. It wasn’t. I felt like a coiled spring, and moved like one, which was disconcerting in itself. I touched my head to feel the spot of the impact. There was a bald patch covered in crusty, dried blood that came away at my touch, but it wasn’t even sore.

Counting my blessings I bent down and grabbed my gear. I succeeded in doing so, but my eyes fell back on the head of the giant Viking. More specifically, the blackened hole in his head. A horrible, barely formed suspicion crept into my mind. I stamped on it just as quickly as it blossomed. I needed to get out of here.

It was at that point I finally realized I was naked. Or damn close to it. Only strips of blackened clothing remained and just about protected my modesty.  

Next, was that the ancient  Hnefatafl piece I’d held in my hand was gone, but a distinct black spiral, identical to the one on the back of the piece was now burned into my hand. There was no pain as I flexed my fist open and closed. I searched around on the floor to find it, but the sound of cars pulling up on the gravel pathway reached my ears, preventing me from looking any further.

It was, without doubt, time to go. I grabbed my detector wishing I’d never brought it. I’d not even used it and now as a cacophony of car doors opened and slammed  shut, I would now have to run half naked with the ungainly thing across an open field in the daylight and pray that I didn’t get caught.