Free The Valhalla Prophecy by Andy McDermott

sandwiches, and be blandly heroic, and I’ll get to have no-strings-attached sex with every woman I meet.”
    “You will
not
,” Nina told him firmly, then they both laughed. “I’m pretty sure there’s more to the country than that, though.”
    “Well, obviously. There’s also meatballs, the Swedish Chef …”
    “Okay,” she said with a smile as the pilot announced that the plane was making its final approach to Stockholm Arlanda Airport, “if any Swede asks what you think of their country, it’d probably be a good idea if you just said, ‘It’s very nice.’ Otherwise they might rethink their neutrality policy.”

    Ninety minutes later, their United Nations diplomatic visas having whisked them through customs, Nina and Eddie arrived at the Swedish National Museum of Antiquities in Stockholm, after a brief detour to a hotel to drop off their luggage. Despite the snow blanketing the countryside, the capital’s streets were impressively clear, traffic moving at a brisk pace. “We should hire these guys to plow the streets of Manhattan,” said Nina.
    “We should get ’em to do the whole of bloody England,” Eddie countered as he climbed out of the taxi. “One flake of snow and the entire country falls apart.”
    Nina paid the driver and joined him. The museum was a large, pale beige block abutting a triangular plaza on a broad tree-lined boulevard, banners advertising its current exhibits adorning its façade. Vikings featured prominently upon them. She regarded the bearded warriors. “I guess they know what sells …”
    They trotted across the chilly plaza to the main entrance, finding a member of the staff and asking for Dr. Skilfinger. They were expected; the rapid clacking of high heels barely a minute later heralded the arrival of their hostess. “Dr. Wilde, hello!” said the tall, slender blonde, her flustered air suggesting that she had hurried from the far side of the museum to meet them. “I’m Tova, Tova Skilfinger. It’s a great honor and pleasure to meet you.” Though she had a strong accent, her English was perfect.
    “It’s good to meet you too, Dr. Skilfinger,” Nina replied as they shook hands.
    “Please, Dr. Wilde, call me Tova.”
    “Then call me Nina.”
    “Agreed.” Tova beamed at her. Nina guessed she was in her late forties or early fifties, but age had not diminished the Swedish historian’s striking looks. Her hair was held up in a loose bun, all her snugly fitting clothing black. “I have been following your work for several years—you could say I am something of a fan.” She blushed faintly.
    Nina did the same. “Thank you. This is my husband, Eddie Chase.”
    “Good to meet you,” said Eddie.
    Tova shook his hand. “And you. Have you come straight from the airport?”
    “More or less,” Nina told her. “I wanted to talk to you about the runestone as soon as we arrived.”
    “We can do that in my office—I have all my notes ready for you. Please, this way.” They started down the hall. “The reason I said I am a fan of yours is that your work allowed me to rethink my own, and look at it from a new perspective.”
    “How so?” asked Nina.
    “Well, although I am primarily a historian, I also have a great interest in Old Norse mythology—though there are few people in Sweden who have not!” She smiled. “Your discovery of Atlantis in particular, but also other finds such as King Arthur’s tomb and El Dorado, caused a resurgence of euhemeristic theory.”
    “Yoo-hoo who?” said Eddie.
    “Euhemerus was an ancient Greek scholar,” Nina told him. “He had the idea that myths and legends were derived from actual historical events, which were exaggerated and distorted over time. Early Christians used it as a way to explain away and discredit what they saw as pagan gods.”
    “It is an important part of the
Prose Edda
,” added Tova. Seeing the Englishman’s questioning look, she continued: “One of the most important texts about Norse