. Raiders of the Forbidden Valley
Chapter 15: Memories of Things Forgotten

An original story by Hannibal King, told in serial form

The Pelloponesian Peninsula, 1928

"Thorskald!" Indy shouted as he trudged along the rocky shoreline. "Hey, Thorskald!"

The figure sat looking out into the clear azure depths of the Mediterranean Sea. Indy grimaced and shook his head. That big Norwegian was always off in some private world of his own. Indy wondered why Jastro continued to bring him on these Atlantean expeditions.

"Hey Lars! C'mon stop staring into the sea willya? You ain't gonna find Atlantis that way you know." Indy shook his head and continued to walk forward.

He reached out and made as if to put a hand on Thorskald's shoulder.

"I'm not interested in finding Atlantis Indy. I'm interested in how the people of the southern countries interacted with my ancestors," the man looked at Indy and smiled warmly. His lower face was obscured by a huge tangle of beard "I doubt that Atlantis ever even existed."

Thorskald stood up and looked down at Indy. He was a huge bear of a man, his face was weathered by years of harsh climate and his accent was all but gone. Indy smiled at Thorskald and clapped the huge man's arm companionably.

"Jastro's found some pretty convincing artifacts!"

"He has found nice artifacts, but what makes them from Atlantis? He has no point of reference for making such wild deductions and he knows it."

"Geez Lars, if you feel that way why are you here in Greece with us?" Indy looked at the big man in an almost derisive manner.

Thorskald just smiled at Indy.

"I have been trying to solve a mystery for most of my life Indy. A mystery that regards my cultural background . . . a mystery that may have its roots here." he said enigmatically.

"What mystery?"

"A group of Vikings colonized Greenland and lived well on its shores for years and years. Suddenly they all vanished. They just got up and left! And the thing is nobody knows why. The ancient Norsemen were always recording things in sagas but on this occasion they didn't. It remains one of the great enigma's of my heritage." Thorskald turned and looked out towards the sea again.

"So what's that got to do with Atlantis?" Indy asked, intrigued by the man's story but infuriated by his habit of trailing off.

"Jastro maintains that he has found evidence of Atlantean colonies as far north as Iceland and Greenland. I think that in some oblique way this caused the migration from Greenland."

Indy looked at him and then glanced back to the rest of the archaeologists. He smiled as he saw Sophia's hair catch the rays of the sun.

"There's an obscure legend of the Viking settlements in Greenland, Indiana. Legends about a rock made up of pure evil." Thorskald interrupted his thoughts. "A rock that the Elders thought of as the dung of Fenris. It is said to have caused living nightmares and men to go insane if they were exposed to it for too long. The story goes that a village far to the north of the Norwegian coast was plagued by demons and disaster when some of the men found a strange idol fashioned out of this rock. Eventually, after they had attempted to rid themselves of this phenomenon - which was viewed as a curse from the gods - a decision was made that a longboat full of the village's bravest and fiercest warriors accompanied by the village shaman should take this source of darkness far from their home. The ship set sail for a fabled land far to the west. Legend maintains that these warriors never returned home."

Indy looked at him, but again Thorskald seemed to be lost in thought once more.

"Lars!" Indy coaxed.

The big Norwegian turned and looked at him.

"You have heard Jastro's theories about the Atlantean firestones haven't you?" he smiled at Indy.

"Yeah, but everyone with theories on Atlantis have theories about strange power sources on which the Atlanteans thrived," Indy countered "Besides what has this to do with your story?"

"What if the strange idol had been carved out of this firestone . . . what does Jastro call it?"

"Orichalum," Indy answered

"Ah yes, Orichalum! Well, what if this idol was carved out of orichalum by some Antediluvian race? Perhaps the visions and phenomenon were a result of this mineral. Maybe it creates some sort of fall out. I just want to solve one of the forgotten enigmas of my heritage, Indy. I'll travel with anyone who'll help me achieve that goal. Even a fool like Jastro!"

And with that the Norwegian archaeologist, who would die almost a decade later in an Icelandic geyser, stood up and strode towards the rest of Jastro's team.

Indy forgot about this conversation, thinking it nothing more than a fairy tale. Even Marcus had heard nothing of this story and that had sealed this piece of information in a locked box in Indiana Jones' psyche.

However, unwittingly, Indy had witnessed proof of Thorskald's theories years later whilst in the sunken caverns and temples of Atlantis. As his companion, Sophia Hapgood had started suffering from severe and baffling hallucinations when exposed to beads of the Orichalum. Hallucinations that convinced her she was a long dead Atlantean priest.

The North Atlantic Ocean, 1948

Indy woke to find his entire body aching. He was chained to a metal strut in the cargo hold of the Black Orchid. He could hear the high pitched barking of dogs ringing through the air. He frowned and tried to focus his attention on the matter at hand.

Whatever the Hell that was!

Indy slowly opened his eyes and scanned the room. It took a moment for his eyesight to get adjusted to the gloom, but eventually he started seeing shapes emerge from the bleak darkness.

Across the hold, manacled to another pipe was Susan. Her head was hanging and her golden hair was over her face.

A moment of panic grabbed at Indy.

"Susan!" He hissed "Susan, are you . . .?"

To his relief she moaned and her head lolled to the side. At least she wasn't dead. Indy started thinking on where they were and how they were going to get out of this dank metal prison.

Somewhere a dog howled.

The steamer had been sailing Northwards for nineteen hours.

Mae Ling stood on the deck of the steamer, wrapped in furs. She looked out across the sea, lost in a pensive mood.

The drugs that had been administered to Indiana Jones and Susan Kirkmuir had ensured that the minimum of effort had been needed to guard them.

However, now as the ghostly pale coastline of Greenland loomed out of the night before them it was time to consider reviving Jones and ensuring that he would assist them in finding their goal.

The valley known in the mists of Norse legend as Jarmungader. The long forgotten crevice wherein lay a secret entrance to the subterranean world of Ygdrassil.

It was here that Jones and her father would both die!

Indy hung in his chains thinking about the vivid flashback he'd had to his conversation with Lars Thorskald. It hadn't been too long after this that Thorskald had left the expedition after what could be euphemistically called a "falling out" with Jastro.

Indy had heard that he'd travelled north and continued his search. Ironically his true goal had seemed to evade the man's grasp, but he had made numerous finds that backed up Jastro's theories.

He had died finding a small horned idol of Atlantean origin.

"Indy . . . are you there?" Susan's voice, sounding very small, brought him to the present.

"Yeah, I'm here sweetheart," Indy said grimly.

"Where are we?"

"I don't know. I think we're on some kind of a boat," he answered.

"Great, I've always wanted to go on a cruise." Susan raised her head and Indy could see an ironic smile cross it.

The room was suddenly flooded with light and Indy heard a voice that he hated - Mae Ling!

"Welcome to the endgame, Dr. Jones. I hope you are suitably rested, you have a long and dangerous journey ahead of you."

Laughter echoed through the metal confines of the hold.

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Indyfan.com Site Author: Micah Johnson
Page Author: Hannibal King
Created: Aug. 24, 1999
Last modified: October 4, 1999