Ragnarok: The Fate of Gods (30 page)

“
Since there’s only one way in, most of the guards will be posted at the entrance to the building.  That’s where we’ll need a diversion.”  Here he flipped through the documents until he pulled out a map of the surrounding area.  He pointed to an alley down the street from the reactor.  “A small band of snipers here should be enough to catch their attention, but . . .” He paused as he shuffled through the papers until he found another map.  “. . . they’ll need to draw the guards to this point before my militia can take them captive.” 

“
That’ll never work,” said Ariel.  “The guards won’t abandon their post to chase after some snipers.”

“
Of course not.  The distraction is just to thin them out.  Then it’s up to you, Daniel.  You’ll be positioned with Zeke.  Once our decoys draw away the guards, your job is to take out the rest.  We’ll supply you with a semi-automatic tranquilizer rifle.  It’s fast and non-lethal.  You should be able to take out the remaining guards before they notice you.” 

“
And then we attack?”  

“
That’s the plan,” Daniel answered.  “I’ll stick with you for support inside.  We don’t know how many guards we’ll find, and then there’s the Karellan.”

“
I’ll be on your team, too,” added Jae-Hoon.  “You’ll need all the support you can get.” 

Zeke sub-consciously tightened his grip on his sword.  Planning made him nervous.  He had thought about attacking the Karellan for years, always hoping he
’d have the chance. 

Now he did, and he was worried.

“I want to be a decoy sniper,” said Jack.

“
Are you sure?” asked Zeke, grateful for the pilot’s spirit, but doubting his skill. 

“
The guards will show no mercy if they catch you,” added Daniel. 

“
I’m sure.  I want to help.” 

“
Me too,” said Ariel.  Zeke looked at her disapprovingly.  “No,” she said, knowing what he wanted to say.  “You can stop protecting me.  I’m strong enough now.  And I have to do my part, too.” 

He paused, trying to summon the right words. 
“Just be careful.” 

“
You’re forgetting I was trained by Micah Frostbane,” she said proudly.  “Those guards will be in more trouble than me.” 

“
I like your confidence.  I just hope you’re right,” said Jack. 

“
And I will be fighting beside you,” said Dumah.  “On the front lines this time, Mr. Branderlief.”  Zeke understood the gesture.  He tried to view it as a good one, but years of hating the Supervisor as a weasel of the government was hard to overcome. 

And he still had doubts.
“Just one thing, before we start.  How do we know that assassination is the best plan?  What if they replace him with someone just as bad?  Or worse?” 

The High Theocrat came to mind.  His disposition had led to the Karellan.  It did not seem to be a trend of improvement.

“We’ve publicly broadcast the data you retrieved from the lab.  There has been dissent among the first-class citizens.  We now have support for the assassination.” 

“
But who will take over for the Karellan?” 

“
We’ll decide that later,” Dumah said gravely.

Several days later, Zeke found himself on a rooftop in the upper city, Jae-Hoon at his side.  His eyes were glued to the gates of the reactor, watching the guard through binoculars. 

There were a lot of them. 

He didn’t like the plan.  Nervousness aside, there were too many guards.  He knew Daniel was a skilled sniper, but could he take them all down?  Not to mention that a nuclear reactor was not an ideal battleground. 

A door swung open loudly.  Daniel stepped through, holding a very large gun. 

“Shh!” urged Zeke. 

“
Don’t you know how to keep a low profile?”  Jae-Hoon asked. 

“
Relax.  No one can hear us.  They’re too far away.” 

Zeke didn
’t understand how he could be so calm.  “At least you’re here.”

“
Think I’d skip out on this party?  I just had to pick up the gun.  They hid it in the basement.  In pieces.  Of course.  It took some time to assemble, but . . .”

“
You’re here now.  That’s what matters.”  Even in the army, Zeke had never had a lot of patience for gun-talk.  Assembling, disassembling, calibers, muzzle-velocities: it all bored him. 

And he was in no mood to listen to it now. 

“Look!” cried Jae-Hoon in an intense whisper.  A reflected light flashed at them from an alley.  “That’s their signal.  The Supervisor should begin his attack soon.  Keep an eye on the guards.” 

Dumah caught the sun’s rays with a small mirror, sending them up to the rooftop.  He was dressed for battle in dull grays, to blend with the cityscape.  Weapons were strapped to his pant legs, his waist, to his sides. 

He looked ready for an all-out war. 

The difference between him and the rest of the sniper team was that he looked comfortable.  Relaxed. 

Ariel
’s clothes were too big for her.  She held her rifle, thinking back to Rome.  Dumah was a good soldier, but no replacement for Micah.  And having Jack at her side was not as comforting as having Zeke for support.

The pilot held his gun awkwardly.  He was the only one on the team without military experience, but Dumah had let him come anyway on the condition that he would be ready to run like hell.

That was the objective.  Stay in sight, but out of range.  And keep running.

“
I don’t like this,” said Ariel quietly. 

“
Bad feeling?” asked Jack. 

“
No, actually.  A good feeling.  But I’ve never trusted those.” 

“
Like it or not,” interrupted Dumah, “it’s time to go.” 

Gunshots ring out in the distance.  The assassination team watches.  Three guards raise their weapons.  One gives a series of hand signals to the rest. 

Eight of them run after the snipers.  Only two stay. 

Daniel eyes them up through the scope.  “Only two?  I’m disappointed.” 

“
This can’t be good.” 

Jae-Hoon crouches, ready to leap from the roof.  He and Zeke grab the thin ropes tied to the building. 
“No time to stop and think now.  Go!” 

Pfft!  Pfft!
  The high-powered dart gun fires silently.  The guards slap their necks as if bitten by a mosquito. 

Then they fall. 

“Let’s go!”  Zeke shouts, already leaping over the side of the building.  He repels quickly down to the street.  Jae-Hoon is close behind.  Daniel drops the gun and follows. 

             
They hit the ground and run.  Within moments, they reach the fence around the reactor.  The gate is still open from the fleeing guards.  They run through the yard of concrete and metal, up the stairs, over the fallen guards, and through the reactor’s front door, pushing it shut behind them.  Success.  They’re inside. 

And so was the Karellan.

              The hallway was dark.  Quiet.  Empty.  Not even an employee, let alone a guard.

             
“That was too easy,” observed the Slayer. 

             
Zeke looked around.  “Something is definitely wrong.” 

              Dumah’s sniper team bursts into a clearing behind the maze of alleys.  He turned, raising his rifle.  Ariel and Jack dive off to the sides for cover.  Militia men pop out of their hiding places, each brandishing an assault rifle. 

             
They wait.  Nothing happens.

             
“Damn!  We lost them!” shouted Dumah.  He motioned toward his team.  “Double back.  We have to find them before they return to the reactor.” 

             
“No!  Wait!” shouted Ariel.  She knew.  That feeling she had.  The good feeling, the one telling her the plan would go off perfectly. 

             
“What is it?”  Jack asked.  Dumah glared at her curiously. 

             
“We didn’t lose them.” 

             
“Can you hear them?”  Dumah signaled his soldiers to be ready. 

             
“No,” she said.  “We weren’t the decoy! 
They
were!” 

             
“Who?”  Jack asked, confused.  “The guards?” 

             
But Ariel was already running back into the alley.  “Zeke . . .” 

             
Dumah signaled his entire militia to follow.

              Despite being a public utility building, the main hall of the reactor bore a remarkable resemblance to a castle.  It was dark.  There were no windows.  And it was long.  It seemed even longer to Zeke’s team, since they had unknowingly started taking smaller steps. 

             
Daniel gently raised is shotgun.  “It’s so quiet.  I expected at least a few guards.”  The other two were not comforted by the Raven’s lack of information. 

“
It’s awfully dark for a routine inspection,” Jae-Hoon observed. 

“
They cut the power,” said Zeke.  It was an unusual thing to be saying about a nuclear reactor. 

“
Why would they do that?” 

“
Because they knew we were coming.” 

They continued down the hallway until they reached a large door at the end.  The one they believed would lead to the Karellan. 

The one they feared would lead to a trap. 

They pushed the door open cautiously.  What was inside was unlike anything they were prepared to see.  If the plate-city was a monster, they had just found its heart.  A short catwalk led to the main floor of the service room, a metal grate suspended high above a pit of tubes, cables cords and machinery.  They must have been above a mountain, because the mess of the chasm below them stretched far below the bottom of the plate.  These mechanical veins stretched up the wall to their sides to the ceiling above them.  They hung down in places, just above their heads. 

They had wandered into the center of a cavernous mechanical demon. 

At the far end of the room, beyond another catwalk leading to the wall, something didn
’t fit.  Pinned up above a small door was a large corpse, drained of blood, its life spilling out onto to the grate, dripping into the abyss. 

A dragon. 

Zeke alone dared to approach it. 
Did the Karellan do this?
he wondered.  To possess so much power . . . the overlord could not be human. 

Then something caught his eye.  The skewer, pinning the beast to the wall.  It looked familiar somehow.  He examined it closely. 

“What is it?” asked Daniel, still hanging back with Jae-Hoon. 

The dragon
’s head hung back, its neck snapped.  Zeke brushed it aside.  Sticking out of the dead animal’s back was an ornate katana, pushed deep into the corpse.  “It’s a sword.”

A voice boomed.  A figure stepped out of the shadows. 
“It’s a Masamune,” said Micah Frostbane. 

Chapter Twenty: Reunions

              Zeke stared, speechless. 

             
Micah calmly stepped up to the dragon and pulled the sword out with one hand.  The corpse slid to the catwalk below, its neck dangling over the side. 

             
“It was salvaged from the ruins of Old Japan.  Found locked in a vault.  Near-perfect condition.”  He pulled out a rag and wiped the blade clean.  He started to put the rag back in his pocket, but gave a second thought to the blood-stained cloth and dropped it on the grate. 

             
“Sorry for the mess,” he continued, nodding at the dragon.  “But I heard you were coming and I thought it would be best to warm up first.” 

             
Zeke finally managed to bring words to his mouth.  “Micah?” 

             
He stopped, looked directly at his friend and smiled cheerfully.  “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

             
“Ten years . . . we though you were dead.”  Zeke was not as cheerful. 

             
“Zeke,” called Daniel, backing up nervously.  Jae-Hoon looked back and forth at the others in the room, not understanding what was going on.  The two swordsmen seemed oblivious to everyone around them. 

             
“Not dead, no.  Just . . . tied up with work.”

             
“Have you come back to fight with us?”  If Micah had enough power to slay dragons, maybe Zeke wouldn’t have to fight alone. 

             
“What are you doing?” shouted Daniel. 

             
“Of course,” said Micah.  “I want to see how strong you’ve become.” 

             
“You and everyone else,” he laughed.  “So you’ll help us take down the Karellan?” 

             
Daniel finally shouted loud enough to break through.  “He
is
the Karellan!” 

             
Zeke was left speechless once again. 

             
Micah spoke without a hint of malevolence.  “Surprised?  I was certain at least Daniel would have figured it out by now.  He is probably the most intelligent Raven I’ve ever employed.  He did a wonderful job of bringing you here.”

             
“Daniel?  You didn’t . . .” Zeke’s voice faltered. 
Didn’t what?  Bring me to my friend?  Or my enemy?
he thought. 

             
“No.  I didn’t betray you.  Not this time,” the boy stammered. 

             
“Don’t worry.  You can trust him.  The kid seems to like you.  He just brought together all my loose ends—taking you to Sandalphon and back.”  Micah turned to Jae-Hoon.  “You must be the Slayer,” he said excitedly.  “I owe a lot to you, too, for helping me arrange this faux assassination.”

             
Jae-Hoon lowered his head, shamefully. 

             
“Now, back to you,” the overlord continued, turning to his old friend.  “It’s time to see how well you can use that old sword of mine.” 

             
He grips the Masamune with both hands, crouching down in a familiar kendo en-guard stance.  “Fight me.” 

             
Zeke squares off.  He has been reunited with his friend, only to find him an aggressive opponent.  Everything he hoped for over the last ten years is now coming at him--swinging the Masamune down hard, from over his head. 

             
He jumps back, just escaping the slash.  “No!  What are you doing?” 

             
Micah swings across his belt, narrowly missing.  “You are the last piece of the puzzle.  With your help, humanity can ascend to paradise.”  He attacks again.  Zeke jumps back, but the tip of the Masamune cuts through the shoulder of his shirt. 

             
“Why are you doing this?” he pleads.  “I can’t fight you.” 

             
Micah stands, frustrated with the lack of cooperation.  “You must.  If you don’t, I will kill you, and then the world will be doomed to die.” 

             
Zeke stares in disbelief.  “You’ve gone crazy.” 

             
“Fight me,” he growls.

             
He speeds forward, sword gripped tightly.  Age has only honed his skill. 

             
But it has done the same for Zeke. 

             
Clang!

             
The sound of clashing metal echoes in the cavern.  The blades lock.  The Masamune hovers mere centimeters above Zeke’s head.  His arms reel from the force of the blow.

             
Micah smiles. 

              The Nifelheim Defense Militia arrives at the gates of the reactor to find a large battalion of soldiers standing guard.  A man in a uniform steps out in front.  Dumah recognizes him as a high-ranking general in the army. 

             
“The Karellan is occupied at the moment.  Take your soldiers and leave, sir,” the man says.

             
But Dumah is not ready to give up.  He is not ready to admit defeat, and he refuses to leave his men trapped inside with the Karellan.  “I’m afraid we’ll have to decline.”  He raises himself to his full height.  Even from a distance, the soldiers see that he towers over their general. 

             
“We don’t want trouble, sir,” the general says.  “Please leave peacefully and we will only strip you of your position.” 

             
Not ready to give up what strength he has, Dumah raises his sidearm and places a bullet clean between the general’s eyes.

             
The roar of a battle rings through the upper city. 

              “You are strong.  You’ve been practicing,” Micah says as he bears down. 

             
Zeke doesn’t give.  Powerful as his opponent is, he refuses to let the sword any closer to his head.  He strains to speak.  “I was taught by the best.” 

             
His blade wavers, but holds.

             
Micah speaks effortlessly.  “And here I thought Metatron’s worries might be justified.” 

             
Jae-Hoon looks at Daniel.  “We’ve got to do something.  He’ll be killed!”

             
The boy shakes off his fear and draws his pistol.  “You’re right.”  He lines up his shot, calling out, “I can end this.  Just say the word.” 

             
“No!” shouts Zeke, panicking. 

             
“Don’t tell me you’ve grown soft,” says Micah. 

             
“Of course not.  But this is my fight.” 

             
Micah gives a strong push.  Zeke stumbles back a few steps.  “Glad to hear it.  What say we stop playing then?”  Without another word, he launches his attack.  The Masamune slashes madly, seemingly from everywhere at once.  Zeke, through a combination of effort and luck, counters every blow. 

             
But he still loses ground.  Soon, he is flush against the dragon corpse. There’s no more room to evade. 

             
Micah stabs.

             
The blade plunges into the corpse, missing him by a centimeter.  Zeke runs.  But in one motion, Micah pulls the sword out and elbows him in the back of the neck.  He falls, collecting himself in a roll across the metal floor.  “Disappointing  Show me something interesting.  What did Sandalphon teach you?” 

             
Zeke gets to his feet. 

             
Micah holds up the Masamune.  A blue aura glows from the sword. 

             
He swings. 

             
A bolt of blue energy shoots out fast.  A red blade swings up to intercept.  It connects with the bolt, dispelling the blue aura into the air.

             
The aura vanishes.  “He taught me to fight with all my soul,” Zeke answers confidently.

             
Micah smiles.  “You’ve made me proud.”  His smile fades to a malevolent grin.  “Now use that power and
fight me!
” 

             
The overlord launches another series of attacks, but Zeke is ready.  He defends, holding his ground.  They exchange blows.  Zeke attacks high.  Micah raises the Masamune in defense, kicking him back at the same time.  He falls, dropping his sword. 

             
But it doesn’t hit the ground. 

             
Micah stands over him, holding both swords. 

             
He attacks.  Defenseless, Zeke has no choice but to dodge.  Micah swings the Masamune low, at his legs.  He leaps over the blade, but the other sword is already swinging towards his chest. 

             
He falls back, uncut, but off-balance.  He pulls himself only to his knees before he realizes the Masamune is careening down towards his head. 

             
Clap!

             
He pinches the blade firmly between his hands. 

             
But Micah doesn’t stop.  He swings the other katana low, trying to attack from the side.  Zeke uses his leverage on the Masamune to deflect the oncoming blow.  He swings it down quickly.  Metal clangs.  He recovers and pulls the sword up high, above him. 

             
Zeke swings the Masamune back over his head, and leaps to his feet.  The blades clash.  He throws in a kick, which hit the hand holding the ancient sword. 

             
It falls.  Zeke picks it up. 

             
They pause, each examining the weapons in their hands.  Zeke, with the legendary katana, and Micah, with the sword that had once been his own.  “It’s been a while since I last held her,” he says nostalgically. 

             
But it isn’t right. 

             
They glance at their weapons, then at each other.  Without a word, each fighter tosses his blade at the other.  Returning them to their proper wielders. 

             
And without missing a beat, they catch the swords and attack again.  Once again, a storm of metal rages through the room.  But the furious pace begins to take its toll on Zeke.  He tires and begins losing ground.  Behind him, he feels the guard rail. The edge of the floor.  His attacks cease.  In time, his defenses weaken.  Micah sees an opening and takes it.  He swings the Masamune up from the ground. 

             
White light flashes. 

             
The sword clangs loudly. 

             
Metatron stands in front of Zeke, one giant broadsword stopping the Karellan’s stroke completely.  “You fool,” he says, his voice rumbling like a god in the cavernous room.  “Will you destroy your aspirations so quickly?” 

             
Micah shoots the malak a contemptuous glance, then turns away, sheathing his sword.  “Of course not.  Do you think I’d go so far as to slay a dear friend?”

             
“I have questioned your judgment since the day you chose this mouse to become the central component of the Destroyer.”  He keeps his back to Zeke, ignoring him.  The wearied fighter listens intently, trying to learn his fate. 

             
“You have seen it yourself and you are still disappointed in his progress?” says Micah, walking away. 

             
“He could not even land a blow on you, a mere human,” bellows the malak, infuriated at his insolence. 

             
“You have a lot to learn about humans,” says Zeke.  He stands slowly, readying his blade.  It glows red.  “Do you think
I’d
kill an old friend?” 

             
The malak turns.  “Oh?  Are you so sentimental that you would not harm this man simply because your paths have crossed in a long-forgotten era?”

             
He ignores the question.  “Fight me.” 

             
“You face me yet again?  Do you never learn?” 

             
Zeke advances on the malak, his glowing sword ready to attack.  “Fight me,” he repeated.  “Stop hiding behind summoned monsters and inept henchmen and see my power for yourself.” 

             
“Without you, my plans are lost.  I can not destroy you.” 

             
“You’re half right.  You can’t kill me.  You’ve failed every time.”  He stops within his sword’s reach of the demon.