A Viking in Atlantis: Vikings of the Bronze Age, #3

A Viking in Atlantis

Vikings in the Bronze Age, Book 3

MAUREEN CASTELL

CHAMPAGNE BOOK GROUP

A Viking in Atlantis

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Published by Champagne Book Group

712 SE Winchell Street, Depoe Bay OR 97341 U.S.A.

~~~

First Edition 2024

eISBN: 978-1-959036-24-1

Copyright © 2024 Maureen Castell All rights reserved.

Cover Art by Sevannah Storm

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To Alan, as always.

Praise for

The Viking Who Fell Through Time

"I love romance, science-fiction, time travel, paranormal, and prehistoric historical. I love stories told in all those genres about what happens when one culture meets another. Imagine finding a book that combines all of them in one absorbing tale! I was delighted to put Maureen Castell’s The Viking Who Fell Through Time on my Kindle."

—ali macgee, author of Sit, Stay, Love: A Romantic Comedy Where the

Dogs Know Best

Without going into a lot of detail (i.e., no spoilers) I’ll simply say that Ms. Castell has done her research, and crafted a believable and well-paced time-travel tale that manages to incorporate the sexy Vikings (as promised), alien technology, and a Bronze-Age warrior woman with all kinds of issues of her own. And it all turns out to be great fun…Top-notch enemies to lovers play here, and Ms. Castell makes the most of her characters and their wary dance. This is a very character-driven story (my favorite type) with believable stakes and motivations.

—Keith Willis, author of the Knights of Kilbourne series

Although not the genre of book I usually read, I thoroughly enjoyed Maureen’s book and am looking forward to the next book in the series.

—Amazon

I was way out of my comfort zone reading this…[but] to my surprise, thoroughly enjoyed it. Maureen Castell is a skilled wordsmith but beyond putting pretty words on paper, she excels in her research. I look forward to more of Maureen's works.

—Goodreads Reader

Praise for

The Viking’s Shadow Lady

Maureen Castell has a simple, flowing style that keeps the pages turning and lets all the characters and the story shine through. You’ll crack a lot of smiles as you’re reading the tale of Beren and Elizabeth. You’ll think about some serious things too. And you’ll have a great time.

—ali macgee, author of Sit, Stay, Love: A Romantic Comedy Where

the Dogs Know Best

Dear Reader,

One day in ancient Greece, an author named Plato wrote about a mythical island with a utopian society. He called that island Atlantis, and like any good story, there was a problem. The people angered the gods so, as punishment, the gods sank Atlantis into the sea.

Most scholars believe Plato’s story was based on fact. Around 1650 BC*, an island in the Aegean Sea split apart when its volcano exploded. Today we know the remnant of that disaster as the island of Santorini, but in Plato’s time it had another name: Thera, known in antiquity as Kaliste.

A Viking in Atlantis is the third book in my Vikings in the Bronze Age series, and follows Ned, an accidental Viking introduced as a baby in The Viking’s Shadow Lady, and Katherine, a modern day scientist, who find themselves on this doomed island.

While you don’t need to have read the previous books to enjoy this one, they do explain in more detail how the Vikings ended up in the ancient past.

I hope you enjoy this journey as much as I have.

For more information, please visit my website at http://www.MaureenCastell.com.

Maureen

*While today’s astronomers, archeologists, anthropologists, etc., use the terms CE and BCE (Common Era and Before Common Era) for ancient and modern times, I have chosen to stay with AD and BC, because those were the terms I grew up with.

Pronunciation Guide

If you are like me, you prefer knowing how words sound when read, especially if you are reading them aloud to someone else, so I have included my best estimate of how some of the less obvious words are pronounced, based on several sources. For multi-syllable words, the emphasized syllable is in all caps. Any errors are my own, especially the words I’ve made up.

Names:

Arakon (A-ra-kon)

Beren (BEH-ren)

Dioni (DY-o-nee)

Einar (EYE-nar)

Gudrin (GOOD-rin)

Jussi (JOO-see)

Kiana (kee-ANN-a)

Lita (LEE-tah)

Mykola (MY-coal-ah)

Piter (PY-ter)

Vitaros (vi-TAR-ose)

Xena (ZEE-nah)

Zabeth (ZAH-beth)

Words:

Forstår du mig (fore STAR doo meeg)—Norse for Do you understand?

Ja (YAH)—Norse for yes

Kaliste (kah-LISS-tay)—Greek for The Fair One

Klengodd, (KLEN-got)—Claw-shaped root from a Shadow world that, when treated with certain chemicals, has remarkable healing properties (invented word)

Nei (NAY)—Norse for no

Chapter One

When the bearded man appeared in her lab, Doctor Katherine Bishop’s first reaction was annoyance. If anyone had been in range when she opened her time viewer, it should have been a Greek shepherd, complete with pan pipes, not a muscle-bound, obviously-not-Greek barbarian. It wasn’t his distinctive clothing, though, or even the sword at his side that left her speechless. It was the white lamb in his arms.

Her assistant, however, had no trouble expressing his surprise. I didn’t know they had Vikings in Atlantis. John’s awed words were almost drowned by the hum of machinery.

Greece, not Atlantis, Katherine corrected. She tugged at a strand of hair that had escaped the bun she always wore. A Viking? That can’t be right. She lowered her gaze to the monitor in front of her. The numbers flashed the year—1650 BC. There weren’t any Vikings in 1650 BC. I know I set the coordinates for ancient Greece. Where did a Viking come from?

The lab crackled with the power of the bank of computers huddled in rows along the back of the windowless basement. Bright fluorescents lit the control terminals that crowded into half of the forty-by-twenty-foot room and left the other half free of clutter for the demonstration. A holographic three-dimensional bubble, ten feet in diameter, now covered a quarter of that area. She had expected a disk, a flat window, to show them the world of ancient Greece four thousand years ago, but this…this was even better.

If it was Greece and not, say, tenth century Norway.

The man stood inside the iridescent bubble window, on a neatly sliced circle of grass. His conical leather helmet brushed the top arc of the bubble. No horns, she noted in satisfaction. Hollywood always got that wrong. Shaggy red hair the same hue as his braided beard spilled from below the helmet. A huge fur cloak emphasized his size and covered a leather tunic, wool pants, and laced boots.

The lamb struggled in his arms.

Not bad. Professor Jessop, chief administrator of the Institute, sat behind Katherine’s desk, a miniature electronic tablet in front of him, his stylus poised to record his judgment of this first demonstration of Katherine’s post-doctoral project, which she’d dubbed a TDP.

Despite his obvious effort to appear unimpressed, excitement laced his tone, as if he’d forgiven her for the label Time Displacement Projector instead of The Jessop Machine.

A Viking threw all her calculations out the window. Still, she had something. This had to impress the Board enough to give her theories another chance, perhaps even extend her funding. She’d found a way to combine her physics degree with her love of history and was determined to prove it possible to watch events in the past in real time.

Uh, Doc? John’s wary tone alerted her before the bleat of the lamb broke the background drone.

Katherine jerked her head up. I shouldn’t have heard that. The disk—bubble—was designed to be soundproof.

The Viking stared at her as if he could see her. In a sudden movement, he dropped the lamb, then drew his sword. The lamb bleated again, struggled to its feet, and trotted out of the bubble.

Out of the bubble…

Overcoming her momentary paralysis, she leapt toward the computer. Shut it off!

John flicked the switch.

Relieved, she turned to confirm the bubble had gone and taken the man with it.

She was half right. The iridescent bubble had disappeared, but the circle of grass remained—and the Viking stalked toward her, sword raised.

Her heart slammed in her chest. That’s not supposed to happen, she squeaked.

No kidding? John’s dry tone contrasted with his hurried retreat from the imminent threat.

Katherine always insisted on a backup plan for any contingency, but when a window became a door—that was one contingency she hadn’t anticipated.

Dr. Bishop? Professor Jessop’s voice held a nervous, quizzical note.

She ignored him. Reassurance was pointless when her whole world had suddenly spun on its head. She caught John’s attention and strove to keep her voice calm. Get the bubble back. If we can drive him into it, we can shut it off again once he’s inside. I’ll keep him occupied.

John gaped, wet his lips, and stepped back to the computer. As his fingers flew over the keyboard, Katherine edged toward the Viking. Her heart felt as if it wanted to beat its way into her throat. She swallowed, scrubbed damp palms down the sides of her lab coat, then held her hands away from her sides. Going for non-threatening here. She hoped.

She’d intended to speak to him in Norse, but the moment she saw his face, the stark terror in his eyes, every language she’d ever learned disappeared from her rattled brain. It’ll have to be English, then. With luck her tone would convey her meaning. Do not be frightened. We mean you no harm.

The man swung his sword toward her. Her hands jerked up in reaction, palms out. She was too shocked to even close her eyes. The sword halted an inch from her fingers. The man regarded her for a moment, then lowered his sword and began a wary examination of the room.

She remembered to breathe. From the corner of her eye, she saw Professor Jessop cower behind her desk. No help from that quarter.

He doesn’t look too smart, John observed. Maybe he doesn’t understand English. Try something else.

The man whirled and raised his sword again. John squawked and dove under the desk. Okay, you’re smart! You’re really smart!

The Viking didn’t move toward John, but an expression passed over his face…

Good Lord, was that a grin?

It vanished as quickly as it appeared. The Viking turned his attention to Professor Jessop. He advanced on the older man. Alarmed, the director jumped from his refuge, then ran for the door.

Get the bubble back! Katherine leaped after the Viking and grabbed his arm.

It felt as though she clutched a tree trunk. He didn’t seem to feel her attached to him. She dug her heels into the slippery tile floor in a futile attempt to pull his arm down. He smelled of sweat and animal and sea. Solid. Real.

From behind one of the large generators, the lamb bleated. Distracted, the man jerked around. She swung with him, her feet dragging beneath her.

John hauled the keyboard under the desk with him and frantically tapped out the necessary codes to reassemble the bubble. Start, damn you, he muttered through clenched teeth.

How much longer? She clung to the man’s arm and kicked his legs to attract his attention. God, it was as if she wasn’t even there.

But the man did stop, if only for a moment. He growled and shook his arm. Katherine’s head snapped back and forth. She had to let go or risk whiplash. Free of her weight, he headed toward the lamb. Too late. The animal bumped one of the switches on the backup generator. The generator’s hum rose to an ear-splitting whine.

The Viking yelled and swung his sword at the generator. It cleaved the metal box right down the middle and sparks shot into the air.

The man jumped back and roared in alarm. Again she gripped his sword arm. John shouted. The air quivered in the corner where the bubble had reappeared. Now if she could just get the barbarian into it.

Electricity arced, from generator to generator. Frantic now, the lamb scrambled away from the danger, only to tangle in the nest of cables that stretched along the floor. Again the Viking swung his sword and severed the cables to free the lamb. More sparks flew, and a snapped cable whipped through the air toward Katherine.

Before she could react, the man thrust himself in front of her. The cable hit and his body jerked from the shock. He stumbled backward. Trapped behind him, she had no choice but to also back up. The Viking twisted and used his body to protect her from the shocks. She tripped and fell, and slammed her hands into grass.

Grass…and an iridescent shimmer all around her. I’m inside the bubble. For a moment, she stopped breathing. Get out!

She tried to scramble away, but the Viking lurched to his knees beside her. One muscular arm pinned her lab coat to the ground as he braced himself. She jerked at the buttons, frantic to free herself.

Doc! The bubble—

The lab disappeared and so did the iridescence of the bubble.

Katherine froze, stunned at the expanse of rock and blue sky that surrounded her. She was outside!

Chapter Two

Oh, my God. Panic gave her strength. With one final tug, Katherine snapped the last button, tore out of the lab coat, then jumped to her feet. At the same time, the man collapsed and lay still.

Run.

She stumbled backward and stepped on something solid. She froze, swallowed, and twisted her head until she could see what was under her foot. The grass ended in a sharp edge, and she now stood on rock. Horror swept through her at the implication and banished all thought of flight.

The bubble hadn’t deposited them in the same place it had snatched the Viking. The view in the lab had shown grass stretched to the distance and dotted with sheep. Here…here was nothing but bare rock, no sheep, no grass save for the circle she and the man had arrived on.

They weren’t in the same place. Were they even in the same time?

Don’t panic. She was a scientist. She was supposed to be able to handle pressure. Take a breath. Think.

Logic says the bubble sent us back to the same place. The damage in the lab may have nudged it a mile or so off target, but we should still be on the same island. So. The bubble brought me here. The bubble can take me back. John will be working to fix the computer. I just have to stay put, stay on this circle of grass, and sooner or later he’ll get me back to the lab.

Her wristwatch said ten thirty-eight in the morning. The sun was halfway up the sky, so that matched. Or was it halfway down? Was it morning or late afternoon? There was no way to tell.

She inspected her surroundings as well as she could without moving more than her head, unwilling to turn her back on the Viking. They had landed on a plateau of some kind, with a slope downward toward a forest. Ah, a clue. Evergreens—cypress and pine. Not the sort of trees you’d find around Drakesville—the pine maybe, but cypress? In Minnesota? Unlikely.

The nature of her experiment added to the evidence of where she was…not Atlantis, despite John’s insistence on that name, but Thera, the island scholars thought Plato based his story on, known today as Santorini.

It hadn’t been called that in 1650 BC. Today Santorini was the largest of a chain of islands that surrounded a flooded caldera where the volcano that dominated the original island had…

There was a sudden tightness in her chest and, muscles tense, she reluctantly turned away from the grass and the Viking, toward foothills tucked against a mountain. No one knew what Thera looked like in ancient times, but the shape of that mountain, tall, conical, with a top that trickled smoke and steam, could not be mistaken for anything other than the obvious.

Volcano.

If they were where and when she intended the viewer to land, that volcano might explode at any time.

Panic threatened again but Katherine tamped it down. It might not be the Thera volcano. They could be anywhere that had a volcano, Vesuvius in Italy or even Kilauea in Hawaii, neither of which was due to explode.

Too bad the simplest, most obvious explanation is most likely the true one.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Worrying wasn’t going to help. If the volcano erupted in the next ten minutes, there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

Back to practicalities.

Her gaze wandered to the Viking again. Her first instinct was to push him off the grass, but if they weren’t in the same place they picked him up…

No, better to leave him on the grass. Once they were back in the lab she’d be able to figure out the precise time and place where he came from and find a way to get him back. She couldn’t leave him stranded in a place he might not belong.

But she wasn’t about to leave him armed.

The hilt of his sword was clasped in his hand, but it slid with ease from his lax fingers. A knife? Yes, there, on his belt, but trapped under his body. No matter how she pushed or pulled, she wasn’t able to budge him or even tilt his body to get at it. She had the sword so hopefully her possession of it would give her time to communicate with him, to make him understand she wasn’t his enemy.

Calmer now that she had a plan, flimsy as it was, Katherine retreated to the far edge of the grass circle and dragged the sword behind her. What next? Inventory.

She patted her jeans, then stuck her hands into the pockets. Right side, a couple of tissues. Left side, the pen her mother had given her when Katherine graduated high school. It was more than a pen, of course. Her mother had been a fanatic about multi-purpose tools, so while ink came from one end, the other end concealed a memory stick that now contained all her backup data. Not that it’ll do me any good here. She sighed and continued her search.

A tube of mace surfaced from a back pocket. Even on the Drakesville campus, no one walked outside at night without some form of protection. Katherine had even taken a self-defense class in her freshman year. She could cripple a mugger with a well-placed knee or escape from a hold using only her elbow and teeth.

She glanced at the brawny figure on the patch of grass. Right. As if any of that’ll do any good against someone that size.

Still, the mace might come in useful.

Nothing else in her jeans. There was her cellphone, she remembered, but that was in the lab coat she’d been in such a hurry to get out of, now stuck beneath over two hundred pounds of muscled Viking. Pity. In the middle of a wilderness that had no streetlights, the flashlight app would be handy if they were here after sunset.

I hope we’re not here after sunset.

Again she glanced at her watch. Large and clunky, it had been her father’s. No fancy features, unless you counted the second hand that swept reassuringly past the Roman numerals spaced around the perimeter of the circular face. The watch wasn’t even battery powered. Her father had loved the ritual of winding it every night. At least it worked, even if it wasn’t useful right now.

The main obstacle, of course, was how damaged the lab equipment was. She hadn’t been able to tell where the snapped cables came from. If the server itself was fried…

Think positive. I’m alive, and I’m damned well going to stay that way. All I have to do is stay on this circle of grass.

Decision made, Katherine settled down to wait for her companion to regain consciousness.

~ * ~

Odin’s teeth, what hit me?

He shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it, and tried to push himself up, but his hand, braced on some sort of cloth, slipped, and he collapsed onto the grass. He had just enough energy to roll over and stare at blue sky. He was outside again. Had it been a dream?

No. His body tingled from the strikes of those leather snakes. What was that place? What had happened?

One moment he’d been in the hot sun, on a hill that overlooked his ship. Sweat soaked his bearskin cloak, and he’d thanked the gods he hadn’t had to chase tonight’s supper. In the next moment he was inside a windowless room, surrounded by huge metal boxes that hummed louder than his ship’s engine. Lights blinked in frantic patterns. People dressed in strange garb stared at him from behind the boxes.

It reminded him of his mother’s warnings of hell. His ship carried all the most modern conveniences, even machines that gave light without flame, but nothing like the things in that strange room. He had to admit he’d panicked, but such a sight would have driven any man mad, even the mighty Tor or his own father, Beren. If he’d been able to remain calm, he might have communicated with the people, but at the time he could only think he’d been captured by dark elves.

He grimaced. Dark elves. He could hear his mother now. Elves and gods are barbarian concepts. I know we don’t live in my time anymore, but some truths don’t change. There is only one God, and He guides your life and protects you from evil.

Perhaps, but his mother was one voice in a world that believed in many gods. How could one mysterious being, no matter how powerful, keep track of everything that went on in the world? For all her supposed education in the Shadow world she’d brought him from, that was one question she’d never been able to answer to his satisfaction. Of one thing he was certain, though—he didn’t believe the people in that room had been elves, dark or light. They reminded him too much of the Shadow world traders.

He began to push himself to his feet, and his hand again landed on cloth. He jerked back. Beside him lay a white coat. A woman had worn that coat. He frowned, drew the memory forward. She’d talked to him, but he’d no desire to listen. She was part of a nightmare he prayed to forget.

There had been a priest as well, who cowered behind a metal table and shouted incantations to the strange boxes, in words he almost understood. The woman hadn’t cowered, though. She’d tried to stop him, to calm him, but the priest called the lightning, heedless of the woman in its way, so there had been no choice but to shield her.

And now he was here. Back where he started? The temperature was hot enough for the same place but…

He pulled his feet under him and rose. His head spun, and he reached for his sword to brace himself. It wasn’t on his belt. Had he left it in that room?

He frowned at the rocky hillside. He was sure that mountain had been farther away from where he’d found the sheep. Where were the rest of them? There’d