Ragnarok: The Fate of Gods

by Jake La Jeunesse

  La Jeunesse / Ragnarok / 1

  Prologue: The Divine Spark

  3500 B. C.

  Two boys race through the Mediterranean country side. The younger is not as strong as his brother and begins to fall behind in the thick, humid air. The elder calls back, but doesn’t break stride. “Keep up! It’s just ahead!”

  Elijah pauses to catch his breath. “What’s just ahead?” He pants heavily. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going! Slow down! Enoch!”

  But his brother disappears into dense foliage, not hearing a word.

  A full day of work ahead of us, and he’d rather play tag. Elijah resumes his chase, slowing to a jog. His only reason for following his brother is to appease this wanderlust as quickly as possible. Very little work will be done on their family’s farm without Enoch, but despite his lumbering power, he cares little for manual labor.

  Elijah, on the other hand, is more grounded. He understands both his brother and the ever-present threat of famine. Unfortunately, the only way to pull him back into his responsibilities is to let his newest fascination run its course. He approaches the dense bushes.

  “It’s in here,” a voice calls from behind. Elijah jumps, startled. He turns, but sees only a lumbering form vanish in the trees. He follows.

  The grove looks void of human life. So now it’s hide and seek?

  Growing impatient with his brother’s games, he checks the denser foliage. In a thick patch of bushes, he sees a small opening near the ground. Broken sticks on the ground betray the presence of something large within.

  “Great,” he says. “This is just how I want to spend harvest time.”

  The boy crawls into the plants. It is a tight fit. Sticks jab into his side. He reaches to pull himself forward and feels a sharp pain in his hand. Ahead of him, thorns drip with blood. He squeezes his hand tightly. The bleeding slows, but doesn’t stop. He creeps forward slowly using his good hand. Trees darken his path.

  Up ahead, he sees light. A clearing. Almost there, he thinks. He calls for his brother, but there’s no answer. The ground below him feels dry and brittle. Then just before reaching the clearing, the earth gives way.

  Elijah falls. The light of the clearing soars high above him. It grows faint. Small. He tumbles through the earth. The dry soil hardens into clay, then rock. When his body slams to a stop against the hard floor, he sees a thin stream of light above him. He is in a cave. Sore, but uninjured. And he is not alone.

  Click. Click. Click.

  “There you are,” says the towering figure of Enoch. He strikes a flint, trying to light a small torch. Click. Click. Whoosh. Flames spurt to life, illuminating the cave. “Looks like a tunnel.”

  “How do we get out?” Elijah stares at the point of light, far above his reach.

  “I guess we’ll have to find another way.”

  “You mean you’ve never been here before?”

  “Not all the way down here, no.”

  The younger boy is silent.

  “Looks like we’ll just have to press on.”

  “No. We have work to do. I’ve played along, hoping to get this over with quickly, but we’ve got to find a way out now. I had to leave Miriam with the flocks so I could follow you. We can’t waste time playing in caves in the middle of nowhere!”

  But Enoch is already walking. Elijah runs after him in short, frantic bursts, trying both to keep near the only known exit and to stay with his older, stronger brother.

  “This isn’t just a cave,” the elder observes.

  They look around. Dark shadows flicker against the red light of the torch. They see rocks. Earth. The walls are damp. “It seems pretty cave-like to me.”

  “Would you be quiet? I didn’t drag you out here for nothing.”

  Elijah is sure of that. He doesn’t believe his brother would abandon his chores without a reason. The question is, is it a good reason? “So what is it?”

  “Miriam saw an angel near here.”

  “Miriam is five years old!” He thinks back to his flock. He left his younger sister in charge. Just mentioning her name made him wince at the thought of what she may be doing; carrying on childish conversations with one sheep while the others wander away, letting them into the garden to give them something tastier than grass, or maybe . . . He turns away from thoughts of his sister. “Don’t tell me you believe in that stuff!”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” Enoch doesn’t glance back. He carries the torch forward, forcing his brother to follow in the warmth of the eerie red light.

  “Those stories mom and dad tell us about our ancestors, living in paradise, God, angels--they made us behave when we were younger. They helped us get to sleep. They’re just stories!”

  “And what if they’re not?”

  He never understands why he argues with his brother. It never does any good. Enoch is resolved to believe what he chooses to believe. “Have you ever met our grandfather, let alone his grandfather? How do we know Adam was a real person?”

  “Have a little faith,” he responds with a smirk. It is Enoch’s way of justifying his beliefs. Faith. Anything could be true with faith. “What’s the worst that could happen if you believe?”

  Elijah abandons the argument. “What do you hope to find down here?” He looks closely at the dancing red light. The cave seems bigger here, but only slightly. The walls are smoother, the floor less rocky.

  “Probably nothing. But if we’re lucky, Eden.”

  Elijah stops, no longer concerned to stay near his brother or the safety of the torchlight. “Why are you wasting my time?”

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s nothing here. But don’t you want to take the chance?”

  “No!” No, no, no! His shouts echo through the cave. Startled, he tones his voice down. “I don’t. It’s not worth it. It’s harvest time. The streams are drying up. We need to store food and water. We’ve got work to do!”

  “But what if we find Eden? It’s so much bigger than our own little life. Maybe we can find a way back to paradise. Think about it—if it’s true, we won’t have to kill ourselves working the soil or tending our flocks.”

  “And if we don’t, we’ll have to work twice as hard tomorrow because of what we failed to accomplish today.”

  Enoch turns back toward the tunnel. “Spoken like a true non-believer.”

  “Non-believer?” Outraged, Elijah chases him down the stone halls. “What are you saying? Aren’t the faithful supposed to be rewarded for their labors? Aren’t we supposed to be humble and serve?” No answer. “Let’s find a way out of here. We have work to do. We can’t waste time down in the earth chasing angels and looking for . . .”

  “A book.”

  Elijah forgets his rage. “A book? I thought you were looking for . . .”

  “No,” Enoch interrupts. He holds the torch in front of him and gestures ahead. “I mean, look. A book.” Up ahead is an ornate archway carved in the rock. Beyond that is a cavernous room, with nothing in it but a book, resting on a stone pedestal.

  They approach it slowly.

  “What’s a book doing way down here?”

  Enoch smiles oafishly. “Good question. Let’s find out.” He reaches forward and picks up the book. It is bound with a sheet of gold so fine that it bends like paper. “Amazing. Do we know anyone who can read?”

  Elijah leans closer in a rare moment of cooperation with his brother. He examines the book. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure these are Hebrew letters, either. Maybe it’s foreign.” The book enchants him. He forgets his responsibilities. Somehow, this strange book seems more important than anything else.

  Enoch touches the cover of the book lovingly.

  Sefer Razael HaMalach.
r />   “What was that?” asks the younger boy, startled.

  “I don’t know. I thought you said it.”

  “We should put it back. I don’t think we’re alone.”

  But Enoch does not listen. He opens the book.

  And stares dumbfounded at the empty pages.

  “I don’t get it. There’s nothing here. Why would someone hide an empty book way down in a cave like this?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we can take it to a rabbi?”

  Elijah glances around, looking for the source of the strange voice they heard. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think someone might be angry if we took it.”

  As if possessed by a guiding spirit, the elder presses his palm flat on one of the pages. Suddenly, the earth begins to shake. A blinding light shoots from the page between his fingers. He drops his torch. The large boy trembles as his smaller brother backs away.

  Then everything stops.

  The light fades until only the weak flame of the torch illuminates the room. The shaking stops, and Enoch collapses, the book falling neatly closed beside him.

  He lies still for a very long time. His brother looks on. Stunned. Silent.

  When he starts to stir, Elijah breaks the silence. “Enoch? Enoch! What happened?”

  The large boy pulls himself to his feet very slowly, but with strong, deliberate movements. “The power! Paradise! I was right!” The words fall heavy from his mouth.

  “Are you all right?” He steps back nervously, hitting the torch. The flame dies. The light fades quickly. Embers glow on the ground.

  “Oh yes. I’m fine.” His words are driven. Possessed. Mad.

  “We should leave. Let the book stay here, underground.”

  Enoch’s eyes seem red in the weak light. He carefully picks up the book as if it were a small child. “No. We have to stay. We have been chosen. It was God, brother. He spoke to me. I’m sure it was him. He wants us to join him in Eden.” He advances on his brother.

  Elijah is frightened, suddenly aware of the difference in size. Enoch, large and strong from plowing the fields, and he; a small, timid shepherd. The younger boy backs away, but is stopped by the hard, stone wall.

  “Come with me! You’re my brother, you should be beside me. Our lord needs servants! Submit to him and we’ll be taken to paradise!”

  Elijah pushes hard backwards, as if the wall would give way to an escape route. “You’re scaring me. What are you talking about?”

  “Touch the pages.” He thrusts the book at his trembling brother. “You’ll understand. Be witness to the power of the Lord!”

  “You’re crazy!” He raises his hands defensively in front of his face. “You’re not talking to God. Stop this now!”

  “Join us! He will take us to paradise! We’ll be more than slaves to the land. We will be given the power of God!”

  “You’re insane.” His words fall dead in the air.

  “No, my brother,” Enoch growls. “I am enlightened.” The massive figure raises himself to his full height. “Will you not join me?”

  The silence is thick. Elijah fears his own response.

  “No,” he squeaks.

  “Then this is farewell.” The book opens. He thrusts his hand against the page, as if trying to physically enter it. The cavern fills with the same blinding light as before. The earth shakes. An unnatural wind fills the tunnels, growing to a deafening roar in Elijah’s ears. The air is hot, burning against his face.

  It becomes too much. The boy closes his eyes. He hears his brother shout, “Take me! Give me your power and I will be your slave!”

  The world explodes. Elijah feels himself lifted by the hot wind and slammed against the cavern wall behind him.

  Then everything stops.

  He opens his eyes, but sees nothing in the darkness. In the preceding fury, the feeble torch had been tossed to the other side of the room, extinguishing the final ember that may have revealed his brother’s absence from the room or the fine gold book that lay at his feet.

  Act One: The Heavens and the Earth

  Chapter One: Mountaintop, A.D. 2563

  The lone man stood on the mountaintop, sword drawn. He wore black: the traditional kenpo gi shirt and hakama pants of a martial artist. His gaze was fixated on his target. At the moment, nothing else existed in the universe.

  It was easy to block out the world. High on the peak of Baegundae Mountain, there was little to see. The thick cloud surrounding the mountaintop diffused the sunlight, casting a red-orange glow over the land. Except for the valley below him and the bright cloud of light above him, the man knew nothing of the world but himself, the tree in front of him, and the katana in his hands.

  The union of Heaven, Earth, and Man, made it very clear to him how ancient people could come to believe that mountains were sacred.

  However, if he had tried, he could have seen something that was not Heaven, Earth, or Man. If he had stared into the cloud of light and squinted, he could have made out a vague patch of darkness.

  But he did not try.

  This dark shape was exactly what he wanted to escape today. Instead, the man held his sword and gazed at the kahm tree growing out of the rock in front of him. This tree was the enemy. The small, orange fruit his target. Not a particularly wily foe, but it would prove challenging enough.

  He stood still, eying up the tree. He selected five pieces of fruit and mapped out his course: run to the tree, sword raised, leap and slash, push off the rock while stabbing. Reaching the top of the tree would be difficult, but he may be able to push off the branches. At the top, all he needed to do was drop.

  The objective being to cut the fruit from the branches without cutting the leaves. Nothing beyond his ability.

  Except he couldn’t take his mind off the gunfire echoing from the valley.

  Far below him stood another man, also with a weapon. However, this man was much younger. He was dressed in a long, brown coat. It appeared to be leather, but was worn through time and use. Unfortunately, he did not face as docile an opponent as a tree.

  Instead, Daniel Uzuki leveled his pistol-gripped shotgun against a cunning monster. The fiend reeked of death. Its dull brown skin clung tight to its body, outlining every bone, vein and muscle in the demon’s frame. But he wasn’t concerned with the ugliness or the smell. His worries came instead from the twelve-inch long bone claws extending from the fingers of the monster’s right hand.

  He also wasn’t excited about the blood dripping from its fangs.

  “Humanoid” is a word that could be used to describe monsters such as this. However, few people ever did.

  Despite the monster’s intimidating visage, he remained calm. He drew his strength from the 12-gauge shotgun held tight in his hands. He hesitated only to consider that there were other demons nearby.

  He stood, watching the monster.

  It stood, watching him.

  The others attacked.

  High up on the mountain peak, Zeke loosed his grip on the katana and waited.

  Crack. The gunshot rang out through the air.

  Next came the terrible scream of the monster. It was a sound that he recognized instantly. Every human on Earth knew that sound. Now he knew what the gunfighter had been shooting at.

  Not that there was much doubt before.

  Crack. Crack. Crack. The sharp explosions of the gun echoed off the mountains, disturbing the other-worldliness of the scene.

  Crack. Crack. These shots rang higher than the others. The fighter had changed guns.

  Crack.

  A monster screamed.

  Then nothing.

  The battle was over. Thankful for the silence, Zeke turned back to his training. Raising his sword to an en-guard, he found his chosen fruit.

  He ran.

  His sword cut through the first fruit, as he planned. He jumped and hit another. Leaping off the rock, he sprang higher, stabbing the heavy sword as gently as he could. He nearly stumbled as his foot hit the thin branch, but h
e caught himself and pushed higher. Reaching the top of the tree, he spun his sword downward.

  A piece of fruit fell.

  So did Zeke. On his way down, he pulled the sword. Another piece of fruit was severed from the boughs. He landed on his feet, sword extended in follow-through position.

  “Impressive,” came the voice of a young man behind him. “You must be Ezekiel Branderlief.”

  He didn’t turn. “If you’ve come to kill me, it’s only fair to let you know your gun is jammed.”

  “Is it?” Daniel asked, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.

  Zeke stood up straight, relaxing his sword arm. “You made a lot of noise down there. Sounds like you’re using inferior ammunition. That last shot you fired didn’t recycle.”

  Taking advantage of his turned back, Daniel pulled out the .45 pistol he kept. He was right—the copper casing of his last shot was fused in the chamber. The ejector had broken off trying to pull it out. The gun was useless now—it would need to be repaired when he returned to Nifelheim. “If you mean to scare me,” he replied, masking his intimidation. “It’s only fair to let you know you only nicked your third kahm.”

  “Did I?”

  Daniel turned to drop his broken gun in his bag. Otherwise, he would have seen the kahm land hard on Zeke’s head.

  Turning back to the swordsman, the boy decided to get to his point. “Anyway, I’ve come to . . .”

  “How many were there?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The gunshots. You were fighting draugr, weren’t you?”

  Daniel was caught off guard by this sudden interest. His nervousness about meeting the legendary ex-soldier faded. “Uh, yes. I was.”

  “Well? How many were there?”

  “I don’t know. I guess about six or seven.”

  “Fast or slow?”

  “I don’t know. About normal, I’d say. Why are you asking about this?”

  “Just worried, that’s all.” He seemed to relax, but Daniel couldn’t tell why. Maybe he was convinced the boy wasn’t an assassin. Or maybe he just wasn’t afraid. “Some say the draugr are increasing in number.”

  “Probably just rumors.” The young fighter was eager to sound wiser than he looked. “Few people want to get near draugr, much less study them.”