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‘It’s like something is zeroing in on us.’ Ash and orange cinders sprayed upward as if the explosion were volcanic, spewing from the ground. Horns blared.Ībove the rooftops of Back Bay, a second column of smoke billowed. From behind me came the crunch of one car rear-ending another. Further down the sidewalk, a jogger stumbled. Of course nothing happened, I chided myself. For the first time, I felt like my body was humming at the right frequency, like I’d finally been tuned to match the crappy soundtrack of my life.
Strange rusted sword outward drivers#
On the bridge, drivers stuck their heads out of their windows to gawk, holding up smartphones and taking pictures.Īnd, as much as I wanted to deny it, Randolph’s words resonated with me. Yet the column of smoke over Back Bay was very real. Randolph had to be insane, talking about gods and swords and ancient shipwrecks. The sternness in his voice made me flinch. ‘A sword? I – look, Randolph, I can tell you’re having a hard day, but –’ Focus on it as if it’s the most important thing in the world – the thing you want the most.’ His stubbly beard glistened silver in the sunlight. About a mile away, amid the thicket of chimneys and steeples of Back Bay, a column of oily black smoke mushroomed skyward. They found it –’Ī low boom echoed across the river. ‘Magnus, the Norse explorers came here searching for the axis of the worlds, the very trunk of the tree. It was sacred to them! Right below us – somewhere near these decorative longships – is the wreck of an actual longship, holding a cargo of incalculable value.’
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This area wasn’t just visited by the Vikings. They’ve felt it instinctively, even if they had no proof. ‘So many people over the centuries have known. ‘Don’t you see?’ Randolph still had his hand on my shoulder, which wasn’t making me any less anxious. ‘All the rabid Longfellow fans would pay big bucks.’ Like Eben Horsford, Longfellow believed the Vikings had explored Boston. The poet Longfellow – for whom the bridge was named – he was fascinated by the Norse. ‘No, it’s … Well, from this angle, it does sort of look like a nose. About halfway down the side of the pier, a shelf of granite jutted over the water like a theatre seating box with a pointy tip. ‘No, the carved ornamentation, just below us.’ What do you see?’Ĭautiously I glanced over the side.