Ragnarok: The Fate of Gods (35 page)

             
“When a crystal forms, all the pieces find their place together.  They all retain a similar shape from the largest cluster of crystal to the most basic atom.  They don’t build on each other—they all seek their place and snap into being at the same time.  In this manner, the universe came into being from chaos.” 

             
Blue flashes to one side.  Zeke, startled, turns quickly to face it.  “That is where your conflict arises,” it tells him. 

             
“My conflict?  With Micah?” he asks, confused.

             
“Not with him, but with his creation,” the point of light continues as it dances around the void.  “When the universe was formed, it was very large.  Large crystals tend not to be perfect.  When chaos turned to order, a caretaker also came into existence.  This caretaker had the power to destroy and repair any imperfections.  It was the first living thing known to the universe, and it was very powerful.  It existed in both the physical and ethereal planes.  Since I am the collective conscious of all that is alive, it was once one with me.”

             
“But you’re not this caretaker anymore?” 

             
“I am, still.  But now I am more.  Now I am every life in the universe at once.”  The point of light stretches into another image, this one appears to be a massive flight of dragons, gathered around two suns.  Zeke recalls Metatron’s words. 
I exist as one entity with God, the dragons, and all those who you call malak.

This was the caretaker. 
All
of the beings in the image.  They all existed as one, single being.

God.

“For sustenance, this entity fed off the power of the stars.  But nearly four billion years ago, it was damaged.  Just as it approached a star system . . .”

The canvas painting changes.  One of the stars explodes, hurling fire, rock, and molten metals at the dragons.

“. . . one of the stars went supernova.  The caretaker of the universe was in grave condition, beyond even his own power to heal.  But without him, the universe’s flaws would grow, and chaos would return.  So with his last remaining power, the caretaker did two things.  On the rubble spewed forth from the supernova, he initiated a force that he would one day be able to integrate into his own being to heal himself.  Spare material, to repair his wounds.  This was the power of life.” 

Here it is
, thinks Zeke. 
The story of creation and the meaning of life, all rolled into one. 

One, single, disappointing revelation. 

“And the other thing?” he asks. 

“
The caretaker was very weak.  The life he created was not strong enough to heal him.  Therefore, he needed to wait for it to evolve.  He needed a species to come forth with the power to transcend between the physical and ethereal planes.” 

“
Humans,” Zeke states. 

“
That is only partially correct.  Humans, as I mentioned, are only capable of doing so with their unconscious minds, through sleep or death.  However, to be completely whole, the caretaker required a physical body that could also travel freely between the planes of existence.  His second act was to leave his knowledge.  The ability to nurse evolution to the point he required.”

“
He gave us Razael’s book.” 

“
Correct.  It is a set of instructions for pushing humanity to the final stage of evolution.”

Horror flashes on Zeke
’s face.  “So the draugr are  . . .” 

“
Evolved humans?  No.  They are merely deceased humans.  Those who have visited the ethereal plane in death.  The book has resurrected their bodies, giving them the power to transcend physically, but they have lost their minds and souls to the ether.  But there are still living humans to make up for that lack of power.  The draugr to replace his body, the humans for his mind.”

“
I don’t understand,” says Zeke, once again feeling a rush of anger and frustration.  “How do I fit into all of this?  Why do
I
matter?  Or Micah?” 

“
Many people have held the book, but only one has been intelligent enough to use it properly.  Enoch discovered it first, but was not fit to carry it.  Therefore, he was made a slave to the power of the caretaker—who you would call ‘God’.  Enoch was transformed into the Holy Sephiroth, Metatron, and the book passed on to his brother Elijah.  Elijah understood parts of the book, but not all of it.  He protected it for years, but passed it on to his grandson, Noah, who lost the book.  Elijah recovered it eons later, but it was again stolen by the first High Theocrat.  The Theocrat attempted to use it.  He learned how to summon the angels into the physical realm.  Many people have read the book, but only Micah Frostbane discovered its true purpose.  Only he has the power to fulfill its destiny to revive the caretaker.” 

             
“So what’s the problem?  Isn’t God supposed to be a good thing?” 

             
“Micah believes reviving the caretaker will lead humanity to paradise.  He believes the god he is creating will be under his control.  But that will not change the purpose of the caretaker.  It is a Destroyer of all that is not perfect.  Its injury was not perfect, and the process of healing required the creation of another imperfection.  Once revived, this ‘god’ will destroy your lives, your planet, and your entire existence.” 

             
Zeke is silent.  The blue light stops dancing, but pulses softly. 

             
“If Micah understands this book . . . if he knows what it means . . . why is he still doing this?  What paradise does he think he’ll find?” 

             
“Micah is trying to change the caretaker.”

             
“Change it?  You mean its purpose?”

             
“He will change the Destroyer’s soul.” 

             
“The Destroyer?” asks Zeke again, hoping for an explanation. 

             
“The Destroyer.  Samael.  The supreme will that governs the caretaker.  In the explosion, the his soul was injured.  Without a soul, he has no life.  It has no will.  It is nothing more than a collection of matter.  But rather than heal this soul, Micah seeks to replace it.”

             
“Replace it?  Can he build a soul?”  Zeke wonders if it’s possible.  If anyone could do it, it would be Micah. 

             
“No.  He has chosen an existing soul.  One he believes is powerful.  One he believes will have the best interests of humanity at heart.  He has spent years working on this, establishing his power over the wounded Destroyer.  Synchronizing it to match his desires.  He removed the injured soul.  He hollowed out a space in the design.  A shape that will only fit one soul.  Yours.” 

             
Zeke feels sick.  “How could he do something so horrible?  How could he do that
to me?” 
He pauses.  Taking it all in.  Summoning up the resolve he needs.  “So I have to fight him and stop this.” 

             
“No.”

             
Zeke collapses to the unseen floor.  He cries out in both frustration and relief.

             
The blue light continues.  “During your contact with Metatron, you took some of his power into your being, a small bit of his soul.  That is why you are here now.  But he also absorbed a part of your soul, and with that power Metatron will attempt to restore God using
his
soul—now infused with yours—as the divine will.  He is the opponent you must face.  Only by stopping him can you defeat God.” 

             
The void is silent.  Zeke stands, running the information through his mind.  Organizing it.  Understanding it.  Dealing with it.  He formulates his next question.  “I don’t understand.  Why do you want me to fight?  I thought you said you were part of this god.” 

             
“I did.  And I still am.  But now there are other lives, and they are one with me as well.  I suppose, like all living things, I seek self-preservation.  To retain my own life.  My own identity.”

             
The blue light begins to fade.  “Hey, where are you going?”  Zeke shouts.

             
“I can sense your heart.  You have no more questions.”

             
“What next?  What do I do?  How do I get back?” 

             
“Just wake up, Zeke.  It’s time.”

Chapter Twenty-Three: Resolve

              The room had not changed much since Micah first entered it.  The walls were slanted and missing some bricks, but he had patched up the holes as best he could.  The rest of the laboratory was the same.  Tables covered with beakers of bubbling liquids.  Pipes and tubes running through odd contraptions.  The Flower of Life, splintered and chipped away, is still barely discernable on the door. 

             
The majority of the Theocrat’s tower was destroyed when the plate fell.  But centuries-old enchantments were placed on this room, guarding the Book of Razael. 

             
The High Theocrat’s seat of power. 

             
It was a stroke of luck that Micah had been there.  He may not have survived the fall otherwise.  He may not have found the book. 

             
The High Theocrats, over time, had used the room to study the Book of Razael.  When Micah took over and became the Karellan, he found many of their tools useful. 

             
Tonight, however, he used no tool.  He chanted softly, under his breath.  He had used the spell only once before, but had committed it to memory.  Using his hands, he drew a Metatron’s cube in the air.  His hand left the air glowing in its wake. 

             
He drew it slowly.  Carefully. 

             
Then he stepped back.  He had no more need to chant.  He knew what he wanted, and his will made it appear. 

             
Metatron stepped out of the glyph and into the physical plane of existence.  He looked as though he had never been injured.  Possibly even stronger than before.  “I am impressed that you have the impudence to summon me knowing full well that you are no longer needed,” said the malak. 

             
Micah was not afraid.  “You’ve summoned Samael.  He’s not ready.  And furthermore, you went and got yourself destroyed.  You’re getting careless.” 

             
“Careless?  You don’t understand.  I no longer
need
to exist in the physical world, just as I no longer need your assistance.” 

             
“You can not revive God without Zeke.” 

             
Metatron laughed.  “You are mistaken.  I seem to have stumbled across a part of his soul.  I can now initiate the resurrection myself.  There is no more need for your pathetic mouse.”  He brushed past Micah and made for the door. 

             
“It won’t work.  I’ve seen to that.” 

             
The angel stopped.  “Don’t worry.  I won’t destroy you.  Not yet,” he said, although he knew the man was not pleading for his life.  “I’m glad that you have summoned me.  It gives me a chance to tie up some old business.”

             
“Business?”  Micah sneered.  “That’s not the reason.  You won’t destroy me because you’re afraid.  You’re afraid you can’t pull it off.  And God knows that too, so he won’t allow a slave like you to harm me.” 

             
“Comfort yourself however you see fit.  I will come for you soon.”  Metatron vanished, presumably to take care of his business.  Micah decided not to worry about him just yet.  He also had business to attend to. 

              Elijah sat in his infirmary, tinkering with a gun.  It was unusual, trying to engineer a stronger weapon in a place of healing, but Zeke was still asleep, and the sage insisted on watching over him. 

             
It was also a good way to conserve heat, since the Mediterranean had become quiet cold over the past few days.  No one stayed too long by themselves.  It was easier to heat only a few rooms at a time.  The infirmary was high on the priority list.  Everyone in his complex seemed to find excuses to drop in, so Elijah thought nothing strange when the door opened. 

             
“Oh, you’re still here,” came the soft voice of Ariel. 

             
He turned.  “Yes.  I thought I’d bring my work in here and look over him.”  He nodded to the gun, which appeared to be taking the shape of a rifle. 

             
“Your work?  What are you doing?” she asked, sitting next to him. 

             
“It’s for Daniel.  He is very good with his chosen weapons, but his handicap will always be the number of bullets he can carry.  I’ve been tinkering with this rifle, and I’ve asked some of my assistants to melt down pieces of the Staff of Son Wukong.  If I’m lucky, I may be able to make a gun that doesn’t have a limit.” 

             
“So that magic weapon stuff . . . it really works, doesn’t it?” 

             
“The power of Razael’s Book does seem infinite, as does the weapons it has spawned.”

             
“And the malice that it spread,” Ariel added.  There was a long pause.  “How about Zeke?” she asked.  “Is he doing any better?” 

             
“No change.  He’s only sleeping, but can’t be woken up.” 

             
“But it’s been days!  You mean you still don’t even know what’s wrong?” 

             
“Unfortunately, his affliction is not of this world.  I can’t treat him.  I don’t think we can do anything but wait.” 

             
Ariel stood and walked to the window.  There wasn’t much to see.  A small sheet of frost covered the view of the endless night.  “Maybe it’s better this way, with the world freezing to death.  Perhaps it’s best that he doesn’t know what’s happening.” 

             
Elijah followed her to the window.  She thought she detected a hit of worry on the sage’s face.  But it passed quickly, and she pushed it from her mind. 

             
“Now, dear, don’t get yourself down,” he said.  “There is still hope.  He hasn’t been injured.  Providing he wakes up, he’ll be as good as ever.” 

             
She tried to smile. 

             
“And don’t forget Daniel,” continued the sage.  “He’s still out there, working for a way to save us.”  He took her arm and led her to the door.  “Why don’t you go get some rest?  You’ll feel better if you sleep a bit.” 

             
“But what about . . .” 

             
“I’ll let you know as soon as he wakes up.”  He spoke faster than usual. 

             
“All right then,” she replied, suspicious of the sage’s sudden change in behavior. 

             
He gave her an unusually strong push into the hallway and slammed the door behind her, locking it.  They had not been alone in the room, but only the sage could feel the presence of the spy. 

“
It’s been a long time, Enoch,” he said.  White light flashes. 

              Ariel didn’t want to sleep. 

             
If she slept, she couldn’t do anything else.  It was the ultimate state of helplessness.  She had been invalid for the better part of ten years.  Even then she could ask for help.  But in sleep . . .

             
She found Jack outside.  He was standing still, gazing up at the sky.  He didn’t look cold, but his breath billowed out before his face, turned to a cloud of fog, then rained to the ground.  “Damn this is creepy,” he said. 

             
Without the sun, the earth froze quickly.  At first it rained.  The rain soon turned to snow.  Then it all stopped.  There was no wind, no clouds, no waves on the sea.  It was as if the earth simply stopped moving altogether. 

             
The sea in front of them, stretching out toward Rome, was solid ice.  Smooth, like glass.  On the other side of the island, hundreds of kilometers out to sea, the water was probably still freezing.  Somewhere, it may still be liquid. 

             
But here it was ice. 

             
“No sun.  No weather.  Nothing,” Ariel said.  A pathetic attempt to make conversation. 

             
“No worries,” Jack replied, a glimmer of his old self coming through.  “We’ve got Giggles McHappy up there to take care of us.”  He nodded up at the giant dragon suspended in the sky, glowing malevolently where the sun should have been.  It was the only sign that it was day time. 

             
A man walks across the ice.  His feet hang down, reflected on the surface in the dim light of the Destroyer. 

             
The image passed through Ariel’s mind like a vision.  A premonition.  It was an odd feeling, but she understood what was happening.  She stood up straight and stared across the water, dazed.

             
“What’s wrong?”  Jack asked. 

             
“He’s here.”

             
“Who’s here?”  He looked around, but didn’t see anyone.

             
“Micah.” 

             
It took a moment to sink in.  “Wait, you mean the Karellan?  The Karellan is coming here?” 

             
“He’s calling for me.”  She ignored Jack and stared out at the ice. 

             
“What?  What are you talking about?  I don’t hear anything?” 

             
“Stay here.  I have to go.”  She started down the trail towards the beach.

             
He ran a few steps in her direction, but stopped.  “Where are you going?”  She didn’t answer.  “Okay, then,” he said to himself.  “If anyone asks, I’ll just say you went off on a date with the guy who tried to kill Zeke.  Right.  That makes sense.”  He laughed darkly to himself as he went up toward the complex.

              Unlike the dying earth, the sky was very much alive.  With no clouds in the sky, the night was full of stars.  These were winter stars.  Stars that should not have been seen in July.  But the sea was frozen.  The weather was far colder than the average Italian winter.

             
She’s coming
, Micah thought.  He could feel it.  Sense it.  She was close now.  After ten years of living above her, when not even his spies knew who she was or why she was there, after ten years of believing she was dead, here she was.  Heading straight for him. 

             
He smiled.

             
He walked quickly, but was careful not to lose his balance.  The ice was smooth.  Thick.  It reflected the stars as brightly as they shone above him.  He would have suspected he were walking through the sky, had it not been for his own image hanging down beneath him. 

             
He saw a shape in the distance.  Ariel.  Almost without thinking, he began chanting an old fairy tale by one of his favorite storytellers.  It came to him easily; Mee, a fairy princess danced on the surface of a lake in the moonlight.  His voice carried far across the barren sea. 

             
In the distance, she heard his song, the description of an elf clothed and jewelled in the night air and stars.  It reminded her of ages ago, when he would read to her in the wilderness.  When they would escape from the encampment and run off into the woods for a few hours of privacy.  The song was familiar to her, and she called back to him in verse.

             
Her voice made its way across the ice.  He could see her now, make out her form.  She was strong, without even a trace of a limp.  It had taken ten years, but she had made a full recovery.  He answered her song, the elven princess looking down at the surface of the water, seeing Princess Shee dancing in the pool, mimicking Princess Mee's movements. Mimicking Micah and Ariel's movements, walking with their own reflected counterparts on the crystalline sea.

             
They drew close, reaching out to each other.  Micah watched her hair glow in the starlight, and she could see his soft, loving eyes. 

             
The eyes that only she ever saw. 

             
“Micah Frostbane.”  Ariel smiled and took his hands.  “It’s been ten years and you’re still spouting fairy tales.  A work of Tolkien, if I remember your lessons correctly.” 

             
He laughed shyly.  “A thousand years ago they told tales of Beowulf and Arthur.  Five hundred years ago it was Grimm and Anderson.  Today we tell the stories of Tolkien.  Perhaps, in five hundred years, someone will tell our story.” 

             
They smiled at each other.  “It seems like a lifetime,” he said. 

             
“Ten years.” 

             
“I thought you were dead.”  Micah fought back a tear. 

             
“I recovered.  It took me a long time, but Zeke took good care of me.”  Her thoughts wandered to him for a moment.  Lying unconscious with an ethereal wound.