Ragnarok: The Fate of Gods (7 page)

             
“I know during the war you had a tendency to follow your own path,” she said.  “As I understand it, this is what made you a great soldier.  But the war is over.  You’re playing a different game now.”  She was right.  He hated it, but she was right. 

             
“You’ve got to play it right,” she continued.  “Be obedient.  Follow the rules, even if you don’t like them.  You have to do this on their terms.  That’s the only way you can change things.” 

             
“Hugin said the same thing today.  ‘Consider my position.  Follow the rules,’ and what not.” 

             
“He’s right,” she said.  Dumah scowled at the thought.  “Purge these thoughts from your mind.  Be grateful you saved the city, but be patient.  You can’t do it all now.  Your day will come.  Just do what you’re told and don’t screw things up.”

             
Theirs was far from a perfect marriage.  “I guess you’re right.” It sounded more through-the-teeth than he intended. 

             
“Good,” she said coldly.  “Now will you come to bed?”

             
The thought was as inviting as a den of snakes.  “No.  Somehow I don’t feel like sleeping.  I’ll go into my study though, so I don’t disturb you.” 

             
She must have been satisfied with that because she let him walk to the door in silence.  But when he grabbed the handle, she added, “Oh, Adam?”

             
“Yes, dear?” 

             
“War is for heroes.  Politics is for snakes.  Try to change that and you’re bound to fail.” 

             
“Trust me, Lilith,” he said half to himself.  “I already know.”

Chapter Five: Missions

              It was seven in the morning.  Late spring.  The wall of the city was the only place in Lower Nifelheim that ever saw the sun.  It had been up for nearly two hours, and all three men knew that. 

             
That’s when they had woken up. 

             
Zeke and Charlie arrived precisely when they said they would.  Daniel was the only one who was slightly disturbed by the change in plans, but he kept his thoughts to himself.  No one could have guessed. 

             
One of them, an Asian man who was a full head shorter than Daniel, approached Charlie with his hand extended.  “So you must be the famous soldier we’re escorting.  Jae-Ho Kim.”

             
Zeke walked past them coldly.  “Famous may not be the right word.” 

             
The small man pulled his hand back and nodded awkwardly at Charlie.  The giant stood there and crossed his arms. 

             
“This what we’re driving?” asked Zeke.  He nodded at the car.  It looked like a boat with tank treads. 

             
A black man who was nearly as big as Charlie stepped forward proudly.  “Sure is.  Standard government transport jeep, outfitted with treads for extra-metropolitan terrain.”  Zeke stood silent, eyeing up the bizarre box he’d be spending the next three days in. 

             
“So wait,” piped in Jae-Ho.  “You’re Zeke?” 

             
“That’s right.  Something wrong?” 

             
“No, no.  Nothing wrong.  I just thought . . .  well, when they said soldier it would be someone . . .”

             
“Bigger?”

             
“So you must be our fifth man, the reason we’re delayed,” he said to Charlie.  His tone was friendly.  He was making conversation.  “You would be?”  He paused, waiting for an introduction. 

             
Nothing came. 

             
“The strong, silent type,” he said, in answer to his own question.  “I can respect that.”

             
“Had to see my daughter off.  She’s just been promoted to first-class citizen.  Can you respect that, runt?  Or we got a problem?” Arms still crossed, he puffed out his chest.  It looked like he grew an extra half-meter taller.  Jae-Ho stepped back.  The black man chuckled to himself. 

             
“Of course not,” defended the small Korean.  “I mean, of course.  Er . . .  yes on the respect.  No on the problem.  I’d never have a problem with anyone as . . . mountainous as yourself.” 

             
Charlie stared the little man down as though he could bury Jae-Ho with his eyes alone. 

             
Then the giant burst into a guffaw and slapped him hard on the back.  “Ah, I’m just messin’ with you, runt.  You’re okay.” 

             
Daniel leaned in to Zeke and asked, “Does he call everyone ‘runt’?”

             
“When you’re as big as Charlie,” he explained quietly, “things tend to look smaller than they would to anyone else.” 

             
“Yo!  Zeke!” called the black man.  Zeke spun just in time to catch the assault rifle that had been hurled at his face. 

             
“This is Bill Smalls.  He’s the equipment manager for our little vacation,” Daniel explained.

             
“Modified SKS rifle with hollow-point ammo and attached grenade launcher.  Flick the switch on the scope for night vision.  Got some crates of high explosives in the jeep.” 

             
Zeke tossed the rifle back at Smalls.  “No thanks.  I’m packing my own.” 

             
Smalls noticed the sword on his belt  “A sword?  You sure that’s a good idea?” 

             
“Don’t see why not.”

             
Smalls chuckled awkwardly.  “Don’t know of any sword that can pack the punch a rifle has.  ‘Specially these rifles.” 

             
“I used to think the same thing.”  Zeke didn’t smile. 

             
By now, Charlie had found a rifle for himself and was examining it carefully.  “Speaking of punch, what the hell they expect us to find out there?” 

             
“Pardon?” asked Jae-Ho.

             
“Hollow-point ammo?  Grenade launcher?  Explosives?  They expecting something bigger than draugr?” 

             
“Who knows what these guys are thinking,” said Smalls.  “They just tell me what we’re using and where we’re going.  My job is to drive it there.” 

             
“Last time I checked, penicillin don’t put up much of a fight.  Don’t you think all these toys are just a little suspicious for a retrieval mission?”  He handed the gun back to Smalls, who packed it carefully in a crate. 

             
“Sure we do,” said Jae-Ho as he helped load the box into the jeep.  “But the city defense militia doesn’t pay us to ask questions.  In fact, they highly discourage the practice.”

             
“I heard of this guy who questioned his orders.  His C.O. threw him in a ring with a live draugr.  Made him fight his way out with his bare hands.”

             
“You really believe all that talk?” said Daniel, tossing his guns into the jeep.  “Come on.  We’re packed.  There’s no reason to stick around here.” 

             
The camera flashed.

             
Micah dug out his wallet and paid the photographer. 

             
“So you mind explaining what we’re doing?”  Zeke asked.  “You’ve been awfully sentimental lately.  You sure that’s good for a soldier?” 

             
“Of course it is,” he said, pulling Ariel close. 

             
“We’re fighting for a better future, but we can’t forget the good things we have now.  Right?”  She sounded as though she were repeating a lesson. 

             
Micah smiled at her.  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

             
She braced herself for what she knew would come next.  “I’m sure you’ll try, though.”  They sat on the hillside.  They knew their captain was fond of teaching.

             
“I want you two to be careful,” he told them.  “War is dangerous, but bombs and bullets aren’t the only thing that can kill a man.”

             
“Right,” Zeke affirmed.  “We can’t rule out knives, axes, shrapnel, poison gas, stray pigeons or army food.” 

             
Micah was not feeling so aloof.  “Could you please be serious for just a moment?  This isn’t easy for me to say, but I . . . well, I worry about you.  I can’t always protect you on the battlefield.” 

             
“We understand.  It’s natural to get close to people during wartime, especially when we grew up together.” 

             
“I don’t think that was his point,” said Ariel disapprovingly.  She turned to Micah and changed her tone.  “Please, go on.” 

             
He stood.  The others remained seated.  It seemed routine to listen as if they were students instead of friends.  Zeke’s attention began to wander. 

             
“The Norse god Baldr had a dream in which he died,” Micah began.  A slight breeze ruffled his white hair. 

             
“Another fairy tale,” groaned Zeke.  Ariel hit him gently, like a responsible sister.

             
“His mother, Frigg, was worried about this dream.  She went through the land and made every creature, every plant, and every rock swear an oath that they would not harm her son.  She would have nothing in the world take him from her.  The other gods, though, thought this was the greatest thing they had ever seen.  They amused themselves by hurling things at him, just to watch it bounce off harmlessly.”

             
“I think I might take up that hobby myself, actually,” chimed Zeke. 

             
“Be quiet,” Ariel interjected, with another gentle slap. 

             
Micah continued, as if there had been no interruption. “The trickster god, Loki, discovered that Frigg had not received an oath from the mistletoe plant.  She thought it was weak.  Harmless.  So Loki made a spear out of it and gave it to Hod.  See, Hod was blind, so he couldn’t join the fun of hurling things at Baldr.  But Loki helped him with the spear, and when Baldr came by, Hod hit him with the mistletoe, striking him dead.” 

             
Zeke stood up.  “Very nice.  That’s a wonderful story, but what’s the point?” 

             
Micah lowered his head, slightly upset.  “I’m telling you to be careful.  Don’t write off anything as being harmless.  Even the least powerful things can be capable of destroying a man.” 

             
Ariel beamed at him.  “You’re always full of wonderful stories.” 

             
“I’d like to think so.  Everyone needs a hobby, I guess.” 

             
“But why fairy tales?” asked Zeke, who had watched this hobby develop over the years.

             
“I like to think that studying what people wrote hundreds of years ago will help me understand them,” Micah explained, once again resuming the persona of the teacher.  “Take this war for example.  It’s being fought by those who believe religion is necessary to govern people, and those who don’t want beliefs, which should be discovered inherently, to be forced upon them.  Can either of you honestly say you’ve never questioned which side you’re on?”

             
Ariel thought.  “So many people have died for their religion.  It would be a shame if they wasted their lives for something they didn’t believe in.” 

             
“It’s a shame they wasted their lives at all.  But most of them were all too willing to do so, and it’s all because they didn’t understand the past.” 

             
Zeke and Ariel settled in for a long lecture.

             
“Take the Christian notion of Jesus, for example,” Micah continued.  “The idea that the only thing needed to achieve salvation is believing in him.  Having faith.  Christians believe their
God
wants unconditional love, but never stop to think of how human that desire actually is.  We all want someone to believe in us.”  He shot a pointed glance at Zeke.  Then he looked at Ariel.  “Or to love us.  People say God made man in his own image.  I suspect it was the other way around.” 

             
Ariel looked confused.  She hadn’t known them very long, and it was difficult to tell how religious any given member of the rebellion might be.  “So you fight because you don’t believe in God?”

             
“Not quite.  Just like you, I fight because we should not submit to a theocracy.  God has a place, but not in politics.  Every time someone helps starving children because of a belief in God, something good happens.  Every time someone dresses the naked or gives solace and comfort to the ill because of religion, it asserts God’s existence.  Whether he created us or we created him, it doesn’t matter.  Just as long as the belief makes the world a kind, peaceful place.”

             
Zeke watched an ant crawl over his hand.  He turned his hand over, causing the ant to frantically run for the upper-side.  He knew these philosophies well.  These lessons were just to impress Ariel.  His only purpose was  a sounding board to keep the conversation going.  “And you’re fighting because the High Theocrat is betraying your belief of God,” he said with no enthusiasm.  He regretted asking about Micah’s hobby.

             
“In a sense, yes,” exclaimed Micah, oblivious to the lukewarm interest.  “Though I wish it didn’t have to come to that.  No good ever came of . . .”

             
Ariel woke up. 

             
Unlike Zeke, she hadn’t felt that her dream was a vision, shown to her by some unseen force.  It was a powerful dream, yes.  An emotional dream.  A hopeful dream.  But just a normal dream. 

             
She wished she could go back to it.  To fall asleep and pick up where she left off.  But she couldn’t, so instead, she woke up. 

             
She made a mental note to find the photograph they took that day, and went to look for Zeke.  On his bed was a note:

Ariel-

             
Gone training.  Be back in a few days.  Be careful when I’m gone.  I made pancakes with some honey I found on the mountain.  You’ll find them in the kitchen.