Ragnarok: The Fate of Gods (31 page)

             
“Insolent mouse, you dare challenge a deity?” 

             
“Pretty lousy deity.  Can’t even kill a mouse.  Do you dare accept?”

             
“You won’t win.  I can not be killed.” 

             
“I can’t do it if I don’t try.”  He leaps with a renewed vigor.  His sword comes down fast.  Metatron stands firm, but swings his blade to halt the attack. 

             
“You have just sealed your fate,
mouse
.”  He kicks.

             
Zeke stumbles back, but doesn’t fall.  “You call that a kick?  Micah hits harder, and he’s just a human.” 

             
Metatron pulls out both blades and attacks fast, swinging with inhuman speed.  Zeke defends wildly.  He loses ground, but doesn’t let the malak land a single blow. 

             
He hops up on the guard rail.  Metatron thrusts forward, but the agile human leaps over his head and lands on the grate behind the malak.  He turns and stabs.  The malak crosses his swords behind his back, catching the katana, then flips over backwards, kicking his opponent on his way down.  Zeke falls, but he slashes up. 

             
The red blade cuts Metatron across the chest. 

             
The malak takes a step back, reflecting on his injury.  The gash glows brightly, as if he were bleeding drops of light instead of blood. 

             
Zeke leaps to his feet. 

             
“Impressive.  It’s been thousands of years since I could be injured.  Perhaps you have made progress.” 

             
Zeke dashes forward, attacking vigorously.  The demon defends, but is pinned against the guardrail.  Within moments, Zeke sees his opening.  He summons all his soul into the sword and swings. 

             
Metatron’s arm falls to the floor.  A broadsword clangs against the grate. 

             
Zeke faces the malak, breathing heavily. 

              Outside the reactor, the battle rages. 

             
The army is strong, but Dumah has trained fighters as well.  The Karellan’s small battalion fights with no leader, and the Lower City Militia proves an equal match.  They concentrate on the center of the enemy forces.  Near the door.  They blast out an opening with their weapons. 

             
They push forward, slowly clearing out their path. 

             
Soon their enemy closes in from both sides—a dangerous position.  But it doesn’t matter.  They reach the door.  Dumah runs inside.  He motions for Jack and Ariel to follow. 

             
His militia stays and fights, covering their leader’s back.

              “Just as I thought.”  Zeke relaxes his stance.  He lowers his sword.  But he doesn’t take his eyes off Metatron.  “You’re nothing but talk.” 

             
The malak laughed, low and dry.  “Is that so?  I suppose you believe you’ve won.” 

             
“You couldn’t defeat me with two arms.  You haven’t got a prayer now.”  Zeke finds his opponent’s confidence irritating. 

             
The wounded demon rises slowly to his feet.  “I am the first of the ten holy sephirah.  I am the most powerful of all angels and the steward of God on Earth and in the ethereal plane.”  He steps slowly toward Zeke, who backs away cautiously.  “I exist as one entity with God, the dragons, and all the malak.  To destroy me, you would need to do more than sever an arm.  You would need to slay all parts of the Destroyer at once.”  He lays down his remaining sword and holds his arm out, opening himself completely for an attack.  “But if you’re so convinced that you’ve won, take your best shot.” 

             
Zeke refuses to be intimidated.  “Best idea I’ve heard all day.” 

             
He shoves his sword deep into Metatron’s chest, hoping that malak have hearts in the same place humans do.  White light pours like blood from the wound.  It fills the room.  It drips on the floor.  It dissipates into the air.  He holds his sword fast, the red aura of his soul shining as bright as the angel’s wound. 

             
Then the aura spreads.  Metatron’s white body becomes infected with the red light.  It travels through him.  His wound bleeds red. 

             
“What . . . what is this power?” he says surprised.  For the first time, the malak looks frightened.  But his look of fear soon fades into a malicious grin.  Understanding dawns on his face.  “This is the will of the Destroyer!  This is the power I’ve been searching for!”

             
Metatron grabs the blade with his fist and pulls it deeper into his body.  The red aura leaves the sword, drawn into Metatron through his fist. 

Zeke screams in pain. 

The bleeding light grows brighter.  Blinding white mixed with red.  Jae-Hoon and Daniel shield their eyes.  Even Micah is forced to look away.  Dumah, Jack and Ariel burst through the door, only to shut their eyes tight against the blinding light. 

Then the malak explodes. 

A shockwave explodes out.  Zeke, caught at its source, is thrown across the room.  His sword clatters to the ground beside him.  Micah grips the guard rail.  Everyone else falls. 

Pipes around the room begin to leak gas.  Cords begin to spark.  The room begins to groan and shake. 

When the light fades, Daniel rushes to his friend’s side.  “He’s passed out.  He needs help.  Ariel,” he orders, “you and Jack take him to Sandalphon.” 

“
Ariel?” came a surprised voice.

“
Micah?”

“
But you were . . .”

“
. . . dead.” 

Daniel realized what was happening.  Not only the reunion of old lovers, but the unstable reactor, wired through the entire capital city. 
“There’s no time!  The reactor is going to explode!” 

“
Leave Zeke with me, Daniel” ordered the Karellan, never taking his eyes from Ariel, whose gaze was equally fixated on him. 

“
No,” the Raven answered, lifting Zeke around his shoulder.  Dumah and Jae-Hoon rushed to help.

This caught Micah
’s attention.  “What?  So you ultimately side with Sandalphon?”  He sounded more interested than surprised.  But still frustrated.  For the first time, his pawns weren’t playing his game.

“
No, my lord.”  He spoke very politely.  “I do not choose one master over another.  But I must do what is right, and I do not believe your intentions are just.”  He and Jae-Hoon pulled the body toward the door. 

“
So be it,” he said, raising his sword slightly. 

“
What’s going on?” piped Ariel.  “Micah, why are you here?” 

             
He pleaded to her.  “There’s no time.  Come with me.  Bring Zeke with you.  The three of us need to escape.” 

             
She turned to her fallen friend ready to obey this wish, but Daniel stopped her.  “Don’t listen to him.  He’s the Karellan.”

             
“What?  Micah . . .”  She struggled for words, but couldn’t find any. 

             
The overlord started for Zeke himself, but Dumah stepped in his path.  “No, my lord.  You can not have them.”

             
“And you’re going to stop me?”  He sounded like he was ready to laugh. 

             
Dumah, still serious, steadied his rifle. 

             
Click
. 

             
Micah laughed. 

             
The Supervisor bent down and snatched Zeke’s sword off the ground.  He held it out.                The Karellan stared at him mockingly.  “Please.  You don’t know how to use that.”  He held out the Masamune, ready to strike. 

             
“I received melee training during the war, just like everyone else,” he answered.  The sword shook in his hands. 

             
“An hour a week on a broad sword with no practice for ten years, and you think you’re qualified to wield that against me?”  He took a step forward.  Dumah took a step back.

             
Then the Supervisor felt something on his face.  Something hot and wet.  A thin jet of steam leaked out of a pipe above him.  An idea came to him. 

             
He cut. 

             
The pipe burst.  A thick cloud of hot steam filled the room.  Micah disappeared behind it.  Dumah retreated.  Jae-Hoon caught him and shoved him under Zeke’s limp arm.  “Take him.  I’ll hold him off.” 

             
“What?”

             
“Just go.  It’s something I need to do.” 

             
Jae-Hoon had stood helpless for so long.  He was finished.  Finished taking orders.  Finished being used as a pawn.  Finished hurting people.  It was time to help them instead.

             
Time for atonement. 

             
The Karellan would brave the cloud of steam.  He was sure of that.  But he could, at the very least, buy his friends enough time to escape.  “I must do this.” 

             
Dumah understood.  He nodded, and then he led the way toward the door. 

             
“But Micah . . .” Ariel said, mindlessly taking a step towards the steam.  Jack grabbed her arm and pulled her hard toward the door.  “We have to go. 

             
The small group raced out into the light of day.

Chapter Twenty-One: Exodus

              Jae-Hoon leaped into the steam, the door not yet closed behind his friends.  The scalding vapors were dissipating into the air, but still burned him. 

             
Suddenly he was startled by a large mass that collided with him in the cloud. 

             
The Karellan. 

             
He wore his suit coat over his head.  It protected him from the steam, but blocked his vision.  He wasn’t expecting the Slayer.  They fell to the ground. 

Jae-Hoon rolled back, out of the steam. 
If I’m lucky
, he thought,
I can keep him in the steam long enough to do some damage.

             
Micah stood and threw off the coat.  The cloud no longer fazed him.  It continued to fill the room with heat.  It billowed behind him, around his feet.  Jae-Hoon stepped back.  The overlord appeared like a god, emerging from his cloud.  “The Slayer?  You want to stop me?”

             
Jae-Hoon didn’t speak.  His answer was to pull his stylus out from his robes. 

             
“I’m disappointed,” the Karellan continued.  “I would have thought that you’d
want
to help me.  You’re in this for God, are you not?”  He took a step closer.  Jae-Hoon gave a quick thrust with his spike.  The overlord was not startled.  Instead, he shot a curious look at the priest.  “Don’t you understand my plan?  I’m trying to restore your God to power.  I’m trying to bring mankind back to paradise.”

             
Just keep talking
, he thought.  Every moment the Karellan wasted in the reactor was one more step between him and Zeke. 

             
“You’re very quiet.  Don’t you understand?  This crisis you’re having, I can end it.  You haven’t been turning people into monsters.  You haven’t been killing them.  You’ve been sending them to God.  They are now part of his being.  It’s not a bad fate.  Not all eyes will weep for them.”  He spoke with a waver in his voice. 

             
He was nervous. 

             
“You won’t get past me.  You’re not getting to Zeke.”

             
Anger filled Micah’s words.  “You mean that after all that soul searching, facing your hypocrisies, and rediscovering your faith that you will deny me now?  After finding your place with God, you will prevent his plans from being fulfilled?” 

             
Jae-Hoon smiled. 

             
Micah was trying to get into his head, but it wasn’t working.

             
He already understood.  Hypocrisy, whether it was good or bad, was neither a weakness nor a strength.  It was human.  That’s all.  Merely a sign.  An indicator that whatever rules may be imposed on us, we do have the power to make our own decisions.  To reason on our own. 

             
Hypocrisy was freedom.  Personal freedom.  The power over our own minds.

             
He stood there fully aware of who was responsible for the draugr.  Perhaps he had unknowingly been their executioner.  Perhaps he had been the one to promote them to their doom. 

             
But the Karellan had made them monsters. 

             
Slaying was an act of mercy.  For both the terrorized humans and the draugr themselves.  They did not belong in this world.  Living as a draugr was a terrible thing.  They had been tormented and twisted until they were less than human.  Jae-Hoon ended their pain by slaying. 

             
And that was exactly what he intended to do now to the Karellan.  

             
The battle didn’t take long.  Jae-Hoon attacked first.  He thrust his spike at the overlord.  But Micah was fast.  He vanished.  The Slayer stopped, puzzled. 

             
The sword pierced him from behind.

             
And then it was gone. He fell to the floor.  Through the noise of the leaking pipes and sparking cords, he heard panicked footsteps running for the door. 

             
Jae-Hoon had lost the fight, but he died with a smile on his face.

              With the help of the Lower City Defense Militia, Daniel managed to put plenty of distance between Zeke and the Karellan.  After leaving the reactor, Dumah’s crew shoved them onto military transports, and within minutes they were pulling up to the Nifelheim port, where Quetzalcoatl was docked. 

             
“Jack, get them to Sandalphon as fast as you can,” Daniel instructed.  “This isn’t a natural injury.  Don’t stop for anything.  Nifelheim is in trouble.  You don’t want to be here.” 

             
“Got it,” he confirmed.  “Ariel?” 

             
She was seated by Zeke in the back seat, in a daze.  No one had to ask what was on her mind.  Daniel repeated, “Ariel?”

             
After a moment she snapped to attention.  “Right,” she said.

             
Jack and Ariel got out of the transport, pulling Zeke with them.  They rushed off to the distant, awkward shape of their ship.  “How bad is it?”  Dumah asked, watching them leave. 

             
“That’s the central power reactor for all Nifelheim.  It wouldn’t be so bad if it just shut down, but the main service lines are damaged.” 

             
“It’s going to blow?” 

             
Daniel spoke gravely.  “Picture a series of tiny explosions in the central structure of the plate setting off a chain reaction that will destroy the entire plate.  Nifelheim is going to fall.” 

             
Just like Rome. 

             
“We have to evacuate,” Dumah stated.  “How much time do we have?” 

             
“It’ll take something this big a while to drop.  Two hours.  Maybe three tops.” 

             
“That’s not exactly my idea of a long time.  Nifelheim is a big city to evacuate in two hours.” 

             
Daniel smirked.  “We’ve had enough practice.  We should be good at evacuations by now.”  He jumped out of the transport, changing his tone.  “You’re right.  There’s not much time.  Get down to the lower city now.” 

             
The transport sped away.  Daniel headed toward the nearby military port, the Muselheim, and the Karellan’s fleet of airships.

              Micah burst into the light of day.  The fresh air was revitalizing.  He was still coughing from the noxious gasses floating around inside the reactor. 

             
He looked around.  There had been a battle.  Bodies were everywhere.  But if there were survivors, they were long gone by now.  He didn’t worry.  He knew where they were headed. 
To Sandalphon
, Daniel had said.  Zeke was hurt.  Wounded by a malak.  And now they were headed to the legendary healer.  He didn’t need to follow them.  He had the fastest fighter ship in the world.  He’d get there first. 

             
Pulling out a small phone from his pocket, he hit a single button.  After a moment a voice answered, “Sir?” 

             
“I’m on my way.  Prepare the Adramelech for immediate departure.” 

              Daniel blew past the security checkpoint.  No one in the military knew he was a traitor yet, and none dared stop a Raven.  He headed straight for the Muselheim, where he knew a skeleton crew was always posted with at least one commanding officer. 

             
A guard noticed him heading furiously towards the ship.  He ran after him, but the Raven of Memory did not stop.  “Sir?” 

             
“Where’s the general?”  Daniel asked. 

             
“Pardon?  The general?” 

             
“We have to mobilize the fleet
now
.  I need to speak with your C. O.”

             
“Uhh, just a moment,” the guard, struggling to keep up with Daniel’s pace, fumbled around for a radio clipped to his belt.  When he finally unclipped it, he held it to his mouth and hit the transmitter.  “Uh, this is guard post JP097-L.  I’m with . . .”

             
Daniel tore the radio from the guard’s hand.  “This is Raven Uzuki.  The reactor is going to blow.  The plate will fall and we need to evacuate
now.
I’ll be on the Muselheim in thirty seconds.  I want the forces to be briefed before then.” 

             
Just then, the plate begins to groan. 

              The general in charge of the Muselheim bursts into the briefing room.  He hasn’t had time to don his Class-A uniform, but judging by the Raven’s radio transmission, speed is more vital than pomp. 

             
The briefing room is connected by a network of satellites to every military unit in the world.  As the general comes in, technicians are busy selecting switches, setting the equipment to transmit only to the Nifelheim forces. 

             
“Turn them all on if it’s faster!”  He pushes his way to the control panel and wipes his arm upward, switching on a number of monitors and cameras at once.  “Who cares if everyone hears us?” 

             
The rest of the technicians take the cue and soon all the monitors flash on.  The general faces the central camera, which would link his words to everywhere under the Karellan’s rule. 

             
And anyone else who might be listening.

             
Through the Muselheim’s thick hull and multiple decks, an explosion shakes the room.  The plate is beginning to fall apart.

             
His speech is short.  “The plate will fall.  Evacuate civilians ASAP.  The Muselheim will be deployed to the central residential sector.  All other carriers will receive a transmission assigning them a tertiary sector.  No one may be left behind.” 

              In the upper city, ships hover above buildings, pulling people safely into the sky.  Far below them in Lower Nifelheim, alarms blare through the streets.  Dumah’s city can not rely on air support.  Their evacuation must be done by land.  Large transport vehicles race through the city streets once again, just as they did two months earlier. 

             
This time they race with more urgency.  Gravity is not a force they can fight.  It is not a force they can hide from.  Their only option is to get everyone, drive as fast as they can, and get far enough away that it won’t do any damage. 

             
They speed through the city, dodging debris falling from the exploding plate.  Every so often, the transports stop.  Soldiers jump out and run to nearby homes.  They pull entire families away from their meager homes, away from their lives, shoving them onto the vehicles.  Many are frightened by the harsh treatment.  But the alternative is death.  Too many fear another incident like Rome. 

             
None argue. 

             
In one city sector, the lights go out.  Hundreds of soldiers are left in the dark with thousands of panicking citizens.  A ball of fire explodes from the plate above them.  Many are thrown to the ground by the shockwave. 

             
The plate groans.  Metal snaps.  A crack opens above them, allowing in the first sunlight the city has seen in hundreds of years.  The second-class citizens understand.  This light is not welcome. 

             
The soldiers pull the remaining civilians onto the transports and speed away.  There is no time to save anyone else.  One second more and they’ll all be dead.  They speed away.  Out of the city. 

              The explosion shakes the upper city.  A chasm opens up beneath them. 

             
The groans of the metal beneath them intensify.  Buildings crumble.  Debris rolls toward the crack.  People lose their footing.  They fall toward the hole. 

             
The upper city is being swallowed into the lower city. 

             
Swallowed into Hell.

             
An airship hovers.  Soldiers on board drop ropes to the soldiers on the plate.  They tie themselves securely then reach for the citizens.  The plate tears wider.  Buildings fall.  Clusters of people are lost.  Rocks pin soldiers down, snapping ropes. 

             
There is another explosion.  And another.  And another.  The snapping pipes and tubes and power lines in the plate trigger a reaction.  The sagging sector of the plate breaks loose and falls.  Buildings collapse toward the chasm.  A cloud of rubble spews into the air, swallowing everything.