He was nervous.
“You won’t get past me. You’re not getting to Zeke.”
Anger filled Micah’s words. “You mean that after all that soul searching, facing your hypocrisies, and rediscovering your faith that you will deny me now? After finding your place with God, you will prevent his plans from being fulfilled?”
Jae-Hoon smiled.
Micah was trying to get into his head, but it wasn’t working.
He already understood. Hypocrisy, whether it was good or bad, was neither a weakness nor a strength. It was human. That’s all. Merely a sign. An indicator that whatever rules may be imposed on us, we do have the power to make our own decisions. To reason on our own.
Hypocrisy was freedom. Personal freedom. The power over our own minds.
He stood there fully aware of who was responsible for the draugr. Perhaps he had unknowingly been their executioner. Perhaps he had been the one to promote them to their doom.
But the Karellan had made them monsters.
Slaying was an act of mercy. For both the terrorized humans and the draugr themselves. They did not belong in this world. Living as a draugr was a terrible thing. They had been tormented and twisted until they were less than human. Jae-Hoon ended their pain by slaying.
And that was exactly what he intended to do now to the Karellan.
The battle didn’t take long. Jae-Hoon attacked first. He thrust his spike at the overlord. But Micah was fast. He vanished. The Slayer stopped, puzzled.
The sword pierced him from behind.
And then it was gone. He fell to the floor. Through the noise of the leaking pipes and sparking cords, he heard panicked footsteps running for the door.
Jae-Hoon had lost the fight, but he died with a smile on his face.
With the help of the Lower City Defense Militia, Daniel managed to put plenty of distance between Zeke and the Karellan. After leaving the reactor, Dumah’s crew shoved them onto military transports, and within minutes they were pulling up to the Nifelheim port, where Quetzalcoatl was docked.
“Jack, get them to Sandalphon as fast as you can,” Daniel instructed. “This isn’t a natural injury. Don’t stop for anything. Nifelheim is in trouble. You don’t want to be here.”
“Got it,” he confirmed. “Ariel?”
She was seated by Zeke in the back seat, in a daze. No one had to ask what was on her mind. Daniel repeated, “Ariel?”
After a moment she snapped to attention. “Right,” she said.
Jack and Ariel got out of the transport, pulling Zeke with them. They rushed off to the distant, awkward shape of their ship. “How bad is it?” Dumah asked, watching them leave.
“That’s the central power reactor for all Nifelheim. It wouldn’t be so bad if it just shut down, but the main service lines are damaged.”
“It’s going to blow?”
Daniel spoke gravely. “Picture a series of tiny explosions in the central structure of the plate setting off a chain reaction that will destroy the entire plate. Nifelheim is going to fall.”
Just like Rome.
“We have to evacuate,” Dumah stated. “How much time do we have?”
“It’ll take something this big a while to drop. Two hours. Maybe three tops.”
“That’s not exactly my idea of a long time. Nifelheim is a big city to evacuate in two hours.”
Daniel smirked. “We’ve had enough practice. We should be good at evacuations by now.” He jumped out of the transport, changing his tone. “You’re right. There’s not much time. Get down to the lower city now.”
The transport sped away. Daniel headed toward the nearby military port, the Muselheim, and the Karellan’s fleet of airships.
Micah burst into the light of day. The fresh air was revitalizing. He was still coughing from the noxious gasses floating around inside the reactor.
He looked around. There had been a battle. Bodies were everywhere. But if there were survivors, they were long gone by now. He didn’t worry. He knew where they were headed. To Sandalphon, Daniel had said. Zeke was hurt. Wounded by a malak. And now they were headed to the legendary healer. He didn’t need to follow them. He had the fastest fighter ship in the world. He’d get there first.
Pulling out a small phone from his pocket, he hit a single button. After a moment a voice answered, “Sir?”
“I’m on my way. Prepare the Adramelech for immediate departure.”
Daniel blew past the security checkpoint. No one in the military knew he was a traitor yet, and none dared stop a Raven. He headed straight for the Muselheim, where he knew a skeleton crew was always posted with at least one commanding officer.
A guard noticed him heading furiously towards the ship. He ran after him, but the Raven of Memory did not stop. “Sir?”
“Where’s the general?” Daniel asked.
“Pardon? The general?”
“We have to mobilize the fleet now. I need to speak with your C. O.”
“Uhh, just a moment,” the guard, struggling to keep up with Daniel’s pace, fumbled around for a radio clipped to his belt. When he finally unclipped it, he held it to his mouth and hit the transmitter. “Uh, this is guard post JP097-L. I’m with . . .”
Daniel tore the radio from the guard’s hand. “This is Raven Uzuki. The reactor is going to blow. The plate will fall and we need to evacuate now. I’ll be on the Muselheim in thirty seconds. I want the forces to be briefed before then.”
Just then, the plate begins to groan.
The general in charge of the Muselheim bursts into the briefing room. He hasn’t had time to don his Class-A uniform, but judging by the Raven’s radio transmission, speed is more vital than pomp.
The briefing room is connected by a network of satellites to every military unit in the world. As the general comes in, technicians are busy selecting switches, setting the equipment to transmit only to the Nifelheim forces.
“Turn them all on if it’s faster!” He pushes his way to the control panel and wipes his arm upward, switching on a number of monitors and cameras at once. “Who cares if everyone hears us?”
The rest of the technicians take the cue and soon all the monitors flash on. The general faces the central camera, which would link his words to everywhere under the Karellan’s rule.
And anyone else who might be listening.
Through the Muselheim’s thick hull and multiple decks, an explosion shakes the room. The plate is beginning to fall apart.
His speech is short. “The plate will fall. Evacuate civilians ASAP. The Muselheim will be deployed to the central residential sector. All other carriers will receive a transmission assigning them a tertiary sector. No one may be left behind.”
In the upper city, ships hover above buildings, pulling people safely into the sky. Far below them in Lower Nifelheim, alarms blare through the streets. Dumah’s city can not rely on air support. Their evacuation must be done by land. Large transport vehicles race through the city streets once again, just as they did two months earlier.
This time they race with more urgency. Gravity is not a force they can fight. It is not a force they can hide from. Their only option is to get everyone, drive as fast as they can, and get far enough away that it won’t do any damage.
They speed through the city, dodging debris falling from the exploding plate. Every so often, the transports stop. Soldiers jump out and run to nearby homes. They pull entire families away from their meager homes, away from their lives, shoving them onto the vehicles. Many are frightened by the harsh treatment. But the alternative is death. Too many fear another incident like Rome.
None argue.
In one city sector, the lights go out. Hundreds of soldiers are left in the dark with thousands of panicking citizens. A ball of fire explodes from the plate above them. Many are thrown to the ground by the shockwave.
The plate groans. Metal snaps. A crack opens above them, allowing in the first sunlight the city has seen in hundreds of years. The second-class citizens understand. Th
is light is not welcome.
The soldiers pull the remaining civilians onto the transports and speed away. There is no time to save anyone else. One second more and they’ll all be dead. They speed away. Out of the city.
The explosion shakes the upper city. A chasm opens up beneath them.
The groans of the metal beneath them intensify. Buildings crumble. Debris rolls toward the crack. People lose their footing. They fall toward the hole.
The upper city is being swallowed into the lower city.
Swallowed into Hell.
An airship hovers. Soldiers on board drop ropes to the soldiers on the plate. They tie themselves securely then reach for the citizens. The plate tears wider. Buildings fall. Clusters of people are lost. Rocks pin soldiers down, snapping ropes.
There is another explosion. And another. And another. The snapping pipes and tubes and power lines in the plate trigger a reaction. The sagging sector of the plate breaks loose and falls. Buildings collapse toward the chasm. A cloud of rubble spews into the air, swallowing everything.
The airship and its meager survivors lift off into the sky.
The segment of plate falls hard, crushing the mostly-empty homes of the second-class citizens. Masses of debris pile on top of it, spewing a small cloud of smoke into the lower city.
The cloud hits the fleeing transports. Some are swallowed and lost. Others are knocked over and begin to roll. When these stop, soldiers immediately rush out to right the vehicles again.
Only a few escape unharmed. They make for the gates.
“She’s all fueled up and ready, sir,” an attendant informs Micah as he storms toward his ship. The plate shakes violently with explosions and stress. The other pilots and attendants have already fled.
“Do you have any messages sir?” the attendant asks urgently. He struggles to keep his footing on the unstable ground. Micah walks unhindered. He climbs up the ladder to the seat of his craft and begins strapping himself in, firing up the engines.
Over the roar of the explosions and the burning engines, the attendant presses his lord for information. “Any orders for the evacuation?”
“Do what you will. The city is lost.”
Without another word, the cockpit closes and the ship accelerates into the sky.
The Supervisor stands at the city’s west gate. Huge military transports pull at the layers of barriers surrounding the lower city. After years of keeping monsters out of Nifelheim, they now serve to trap the people inside.
Now, the militia struggles to demolish them faster. Within minutes, the evacuation transports would try to flood out of the gates, only to get stuck, trying to funnel through the maze of fences and razor wire.
“Pull!” Dumah shouts. A small fleet of vehicles tug at the barriers.
Nothing happens.
The wire is planted too deep. The walls are built too strong. The only available tools aren’t strong enough. There is very little equipment available in the lower city.
“Pull!” he shouts again, frantically. Again they pull and nothing happens.
Something explodes. Dumah is thrown to the ground. Ropes snap and the pulling vehicles speed to freedom.
That was too low to be from the plate, Dumah thinks. He stands. The explosion has uprooted the razor wire fence and shattered the plexiglass wall. There is a gaping hole in the barrier.
In the distance, a pirate ship floats up the Han River.
Parts of the plate are now exploding violently. Much of the city has been evacuated, although many people are lost. It won’t hold much longer, Daniel thinks as he runs through the city, carrying a small child. He shepherds a small group of citizens toward the open cargo bay of the Muselheim.
Rope ladders hang down and soldiers struggle to pull the citizens up quickly. The ground shakes. It begins to sag. The plate starts to fall beneath their feet.
Daniel leaps.
The child cries.
He grabs a ladder with his free hand.
The plate collapses.
In the sky just outside Nifelheim, Jack pushes his engines to full power. Ariel sits nearby, looking over Zeke in the same bed they used when he was injured by the dragon.
Jack is quiet. It makes Ariel worry. “Are we safe?” she asks. The ship accelerates. It moves fast. Faster than it was meant to move. She holds tight.
“I’m pushing it full-throttle,” he explains. His voice is grave. “I’ll probably blow the engines, but we’ll make it to Rome first. How is . . .”
His voice trails off as a monitor catches his attention.
“What?” says Ariel. “What is it? Is something wrong?”
“We’re being followed.”
The Supervisor watches from the gates. He sees the plate sag. He sees the supports bend. He hears the grinding, the groaning, and the sounds of strained metal. The explosions. The falling buildings.
And the screaming.
It is time. The city is in its death throes. There is nothing left to do but escape. He signals to his men to leave. Evacuation transports shoot towards the enlarged gate, erupting into the open air. The ground is rough and uneven, but they keep going. Some get stuck, but others drive on. Everyone has the same idea.
Be as far away as they can when it falls.
The sounds rise to a deafening thunder. The largest section of the plate falls.
A cloud of debris spews outward from the city.
Above the dying Nifelheim, Daniel stands on the observation deck of the Muselheim. He watches each section of the plate fall. He watches as each section of burning buildings collapses and is lost in the dust. He sees the Supervisor’s transports speed away from the deadly cloud.
All the while, explosions keep ringing from the plate.
It doesn’t happen all at once. A large section of the plate falls. But others stand. Bent. Wounded. Ready to fall, but saving themselves for the right moment. When they can frighten the survivors, or attack the rescue teams.
Nifelheim’s evil is not so easily extinguished.
“I can’t believe it,” Jack shouts after checking every monitor twice.
Ariel holds tight in the back. The ship flies every maneuver possible, trying to shake their pursuer. She struggles to keep herself still and to guard Zeke as well.
“What? What can’t you believe?” she shouts.
“It’s the Adramelech.”
The name sounds familiar. She heard it once before. It seems like years ago. “Didn’t you say that was the Karellan’s ship?”
“Custom built for the man himself,” Jack explains less-than enthusiastically. “He even had a series of restrictions placed on ship engines. Didn’t want anyone outrunning him.”
Ariel was not concerned that they’d be caught. “Micah . . .” she said to herself. Thinking of the person she knew ten years before. “Is it really you?”
A short distance behind Quetzalcoatl, Micah thinks of Ariel. The cargo ship is fast, but he follows it with ease. He can’t shoot it down, not with such precious cargo as Zeke.
And Ariel.
All he needs is to wait for them to burn out. Force them to land.
“It’s been ten years. I won’t lose you again,” he says quietly. Then his quarry vanishes from the monitors. The ship still pushes for freedom in front of him, but the Adramelech doesn’t see it. Before he has time to check for instrument malfunction, a massive gust of wind knocks both ships off balance.
Below him, the entire planet begins to shake.
“What the hell was that?” screams Jack at the top of his lungs. All his navigation instruments are dead. The engines still work, but he’s now flying blind.
“I was hoping you’d know,” Ariel bellows back.
“Sorry. I’m lost.” After a moment, he adds, “literally.” He checks the gauges. Some fire wildly, erratically. Others don’t fire at all. Through the ships controls, he feels a tremor in the air. The entire planet is shaking. “Seems like the whole world is going crazy.”
Far on the other si
de of the planet, thousands of kilometers away from Rome or Nifelheim or wild civilizations or pirates, something is happening. On a continent inhabited by malak, something is trying to enter the physical plane of existence. Black sparks arc across the western edge of the continent. They flare up far into space. They explode with energy, shaking the earth.
Then a hole opens.
At first, only for a moment, then it disappears. But the energy bursts don’t stop. The storm intensifies. The hole opens again. Then it grows.
Something begins to push its way out.
A large dragon emerges, flying into space. It is the size of a planet, with six wings and black scales. Its eyes are hollow and black.
Massive thought it is, it is still weak. It needs energy. It senses a great source of power nearby. Its sightless eyes seek it out with ease.
In Nifelheim, the survivors of the collapse look up nervously. The late afternoon sun darkens. Light vanishes from the sky.
Near Rome, the same thing happens. Closer to noon, the sky suddenly goes dark. “Uhh, was there supposed to be an eclipse today,” asks Jack nervously.
Behind them, Micah sees the great monster in the sky.
The dragon approaches the sun. It feels the intense heat. The sun revitalizes it. Gives it strength. Its dull, black scales spark with a glimmer of light.
The dragon inhales. Creating a powerful force in the vacuum of space, it takes the burning gasses of the sun into its own body. With the unending breath, the star grows smaller and smaller. The dragon grows larger and larger. Its scales begin to glow, dark and black.
The sun dwindles into nothingness.
To most who witness the event, the dragon in the sky was a frightening thing. It was unusual, unnatural. And it filled them with an unearthly fear.
Ragnarok: The Fate of Gods Page 26