Ragnarok: The Fate of Gods (41 page)

             
“Father . . .” 

             
“Just go!” he commands. 

             
“Lady Muriel,” shouts the driver.  “Look!”  He trembles. 

             
The malak draw near.  At the front of the assault is a massive demon, with a smooth horned head and massive wings.  It crouches low to reach its victims on the ground.  Even hunching over, it is ten meters tall.  It approaches Gabriel, tossing both humans and draugr into the air. 

             
“Go quickly,” Gabriel orders.  “You can’t stay here.  I’ll hold them off.” 

             
“Let’s go,” says the driver, turning the wheel hard.

             
Ariel climbs off the vehicle and nocks an arrow in her bow.  “No.  You go.  I’ll stay and help.”

             
“Whatever,” the driver says.  He speeds off without an argument. 

             
A draugr runs toward them, escaping the malak.  Ariel looses the arrow into its neck.  It falls. 

             
“You’ve made me proud,” Gabriel says. 

             
Muriel looks at her father, not sure of what to say.  The malak would wipe them out soon.  Maybe Zeke could win, but for her and her father, the battle was over. 

             
Gabriel looks back at his daughter.  “I understand,” he says, knowing what she is too proud to say.  “If this is our final stand,” he shouts turning back to the malak, “then I will follow you into Valhalla!”

             
The giant malak is upon them.  They brace themselves for the attack.  Muriel raises her bow.  Gabriel waves his hammer violently.  The demon spots the fearless warriors and stands up to its full height, over fifteen meters tall. 

             
A ship buzzes overhead.

             
It’s fast.  Incredibly fast.  Gabriel and Muriel don’t see it.  Instead, they look up at the monster above them.  It looks down at a gaping hole in its body.  A bewildered look spreads across its face in its final moments of life. 

             
Then it explodes.  White light engulfs the battlefield.  Everyone looks up at the sight. 

              The radio on the bridge crackles.  “Did you see it?”  Daniel asks.  His voice is hard to hear over the battle. 

             
Dumah pulls his transmitter off the control panel.  “The Adramelech?  Yeah.  We saw it.” 

             
“Is it the Karellan?”

             
“We’re trying to confirm that now,” he responds.  Then he turns to the communications technician.  “We
can
confirm that, right?” 

             
“We’re picking up a transmission now, sir,” the man answers. 

             
“Patch it through,” Dumah orders.  The technician flips a few switches and a monitor bursts to life.  Everyone on the Muselheim’s bridge turns to see a woman in the cockpit of the Adramelech. 

             
“You guys need some help?” Ariel asks. 

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Angels and Demons

              Pirates run from malak. 

             
Draugr block their path.  Joel engages the monsters.  Some of his men join him.  They hack at the monsters, trying to break through.  A few braver pirates taunt the malak.  They bait the angels into fighting, then dodge the attacks.  Buying time. 

             
Most of these pirates die. 

             
The draugr ranks break.  Joel and the surviving pirates rush through.  The draugr close in behind, but the malak plow through them.  The pirates keep running.  Monsters pick off stragglers, killing them with teeth, claws, and horns. 

             
Joel bursts into a small ring of draugr.  They spin towards him, hissing excitedly.  He looks around. 

             
He is alone. 

             
A single malak pushes through the draugr.  Joel stands defensively.  He may have no chance, but he resolves not to die without a fight. 

             
A rope ladder falls beside him. 

             
Without thinking, he grabs it and climbs quickly.  Looking up, he can see a ship below the battle above him.  It’s small, but not a fighter jet.  It looks like a cargo freighter.  Daniel stands by the open doors.  He extends his hand down.  Joel takes it.  They pull the pirate into Quetzalcoatl. 

             
“Thanks for the lift,” he says.  “What’s the occasion?” 

             
“Ariel showed up.  She wants to meet with the generals.” 

              A small ring of ships rests in the desert.  Over the hill, the battle is loud.

             
Gabriel, Joel, Jack, Daniel, Muriel and Dumah all form a circle, facing Ariel.  She stands tall.  The spear, Gungnir, is strapped to her back.  A bundle of weapons rests at her side.  She is dressed light, but strong.  Ready to fight.

             
A goddess of battle.

             
“This is our only hope,” she explains, handing out the legendary weapons.  She gives Mjollnir to Gabriel.  “We only have a few weapons capable of defeating the malak, so don’t waste your time with the draugr.  Let the others handle them.”  She hands Excalibur to Dumah, Durandal to Joel. 

             
The pirate examines the sword.  It is longer than the knives he trains with, but after a few swings, he appears comfortable with the blade. 

             
Ariel continues.  “You don’t have to hit them hard.  They’re not used to victims who fight back.” 

             
She hands Gandiva to Muriel.  Muriel gently pulls the string back, testing the weight of the bow.  “It’s very powerful,” she says, “but are you sure it will work?” 

             
“Positive.  But you were going to fight them anyway, weren’t you?” 

             
Muriel grins. 

             
“Now go.  We don’t have much time.  Protect yourselves.”  With silent nods, they begin to disperse.  They load into the ships that will take them back to the melee.  Ariel turns to Daniel, holding an automatic rifle.  “This one’s for you.  A special gift from Sandalphon.” 

             
“A gun?”  She drops it into his hands and he nearly falls over.  “It’s heavy.”

             
“It’s made from the Staff of Son Wukong.  The bullets can destroy malak, and it never needs reloading,” she explains. 

             
“Thank you,” he says.  He turns to Quetzalcoatl.

             
Dumah stops him.  “Daniel, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.” 

             
“Yes?” 

             
“Our technicians have picked up something quite disturbing from behind the mountains.  Could you, perhaps, check it out for us?”

              Metatron laughs as he pushes his sword down.  “The trouble with being human is that you’ll eventually grow weary.  My power is holy and infinite.” 

             
Zeke pushes back, keeping the sword from cutting his face.  The malak is patient, showing no signs of fatigue.

             
But the human is far from exhausted. 

             
Summoning a burst of strength, he springs up.  Metatron’s hold is broken.  The angel stumbles backwards. 

             
“I will fight you to my last breath,” says Zeke.  He jumps forward.  Metatron blocks the attack.  He attacks again.  Metatron steps to one side, dodging.  He swings his sword.  The flat of the blade connects with Zeke’s head.  He drops quickly. 

             
“That would be the plan.  Shouldn’t take too long.” 

             
“You’ll never win,” the wounded fighter responds from the ground.  He stays down, presently too weak to get up. 

             
The malak sneers.  “Even your verbal retaliations grow weary.  Of course I’ll win.  Do you intend to survive this fight and take on the hosts of God?” 

             
“I’m not alone.  You’ve seen the size of the army you face.” 

             
Metatron laughs.  “Oh?  Your friends.  Right.  Let’s just see how strong they are.”  He draws a circle in the void.  An image appears.  The Muselheim’s cannons fire relentlessly.  Dragons fall from the sky, but some make it through.  They land on the ship’s observation deck.  Fierce malak dismount from the beats.  A small platoon of soldiers fight off the dragons. 

             
Dumah faces the malak.  He cuts them to shreds with Excalibur. 

             
The image dissipates with exploding white light.  The malak draws another circle in the void.  Attack vehicles charge the malak ranks.  Gabriel, Muriel, and Joel hang out the sides, shooting, stabbing and smashing the demons as they pass.  Light explodes again, ending the image. 

             
Zeke laughs. 

             
Metatron is unfazed.  “A handful of weapons and you think you’re winning?  How long can your friends last?  I have more surprises remaining.” 

             
“Good,” Zeke counters, stalling for time so he can recover from the last blow.  “I could use a good laugh about now.” 

             
“Would you laugh at the seraphim?” 

             
“Seraphim?” 

             
“The most powerful of all malak.  Two of my seraph generals are already in the physical plane: Loki the Giant and Lucifer, Malak of Beauty.” 

             
He draws another image in the air.  Zeke sees tall mountains.  Sharp.  Ominous.  They reach far into the clear sky.  On the side of a mountain, draugr and malak pop out of a small gate.  The force already amassed is huge.  At the head of the army, two powerful malak observe the scene. 

             
“Almost ready,” says the large one.  Loki, Zeke guesses. 

             
The other looks ahead of the army.  A bridge of rock reaches into a pass between two icy mountains.  Below the bridge on either side is a fall of several hundred meters.  “Have we been given the order to advance?” 

             
“Not yet,” says Loki.  “But let’s go anyway.  These peaks won’t be easy to cross.” 

             
“Fine by me,” shouts Lucifer.  “Move out!” he calls to the army.  The malak and draugr march towards the bridge, monsters still popping out of the small gate behind them. 

             
A lone figure steps out on the bridge.  He raises a rifle. 

             
Metatron waves his hand.  The image shatters and fades to darkness. 

             
“Ha!”  Zeke spits.  “I told you.  You can’t win.” 

             
“So quick you are to judge the victor,” growls the angel.  “The fight is not yet ended.”  He turns quickly and attacks. 

             
Zeke leaps to his feet, blocking with his sword.  He stops the attack, but it is strong.  The malak pushes him back.  Metatron swings again.  Another hard blow forces Zeke back farther. 

             
The angel’s swords glow blue.  He swings them, shooting a bolt of energy..  The katana swings fast.  It hits the bolt, deflecting the energy back at Metatron.  The angel stands fast.  The blast hits him in his chest, absorbed into his body. 

             
The malak appears unaffected. 

             
Zeke doesn’t give him another moment.  He runs at Metatron.  The malak ducks, his shoulder connecting with the human’s waist.  The powerful angel stands, throwing him into the air.  Zeke hits the ground hard, several meters behind Metatron. 

             
Hitting hard on the nothing. 

             
“My five-thousand year life has taught me to keep a full arsenal of tactics on hand.  I think you’ll like this next one.” 

             
Metatron conjures another image.

              Suspended in the universe, Samael the Destroyer stirs.  He spreads his six swings.  His neck aims a draconic head at the earth.  He takes a deep breath in the vacuum.  His chest expands. 

             
He bellows out, roaring in the soundless void.  A thin beam of light shoots from his mouth, racing to the planet. 

             
On the battlefield, the sky flashes.  A large, white blast of light falls.  It hits the ground and keeps going.  A cloud of draugr, humans, dragons, rock, dust, and blood is thrown up into the air. 

             
The hole is deep.  Magma bubbles in its depths. 

             
Another blast hits the edge of the battlefield.  Dragons and fighter jets are knocked out of the air.  Lava explodes from the ground. 

             
The night glows a dull red. 

              The mountains rise behind Daniel, cold and frosted.  A thin ridge of rock stretches before him.  This path is the fastest way through the mountains.  It’s the only one an army has time to find. 

             
The boy stands unmoving. 

             
The seraphim’s laughter seemed to well up inside his head.  Their pleasure was intangible.  Inaudible.  Ethereal.

             
“Look at that.  They’re already lining up to be killed,” says Lucifer.  His voice is high and clear. 

             
Loki speaks in a lower, darker voice, almost a growl.  “Hey you!  I think your army got scared and ran off.” 

             
Daniel doesn’t move.  “Didn’t come with an army.” 

             
Their presence in his head grows.  Their psychic laughter becomes louder.  “Did you come to surrender?”  asks the giant. 

             
“Nope.” 

             
Lucifer turns to his comrade.  “Are all humans this easy to kill?” 

             
“Poor guy is probably scared out of his wits.  Let’s do him a favor and kill him quickly.”  He shouts to a line of draugr.  “First line!  Attack!” 

             
Ten draugr obey the seraph.  Ten monsters run to the bridge.  Ten shots ring out in succession.  Ten bodies tumble into the chasm below the mountains. 

             
“You will not cross this bridge,” Daniel says calmly.

             
“What happened?” 

             
“It was just luck,” Lucifer says.  “He can’t hold out for long.  Attack!”  Another line of draugr runs for the bridge. 

             
A bolt from Samael hits the ground behind the seraphim.  The seraphim turn to see several draugr and a lone malak fall into a glowing red hole.  “Damn it!  Can’t he aim a little more carefully?” shouts Lucifer.  As a seraph, he can will the malak back into the ranks, but the magma would destroy the draugr. 

             
He turns back to the boy.  Loki is glaring. Seething.  Bodies of dead draugr litter the earth in front of him.  Daniel stands calmly, resting the rifle atop his shoulder.  He kicks a corpse at his feet.  It tumbles into the chasm. 

             
“What the hell?” says a bewildered Loki. 

             
Lucifer turns once more to his army.  “Attack!”  The entire host of draugr and malak rush the tiny ridge. 

             
Daniel starts firing.