Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds)

by Justus R. Stone

  A figure stepped out from the cover of the elevators.

  “I knew it would be you.” Hodur said. “Why don’t you take off the mask so I can face you for real?”

  Pridament allowed his form to revert to its natural state.

  Hodur gave a small chuckle. “I’ve seen you do that a thousand times. I never get used to it. Justinian stole that trick from you, did you know?”

  “I found out recently. I thought he’d been forbidden to take the powers of Odin’s blood.”

  “Ah, but you’re dead in this world, brother. Your body had barely graced the ground and he started using your little trick. I suppose he copied it years ago and was just waiting for his opportunity.”

  Pridament spat. “Were you the one he was working for? Has this been your plan from the start?”

  Hodur shook his head. “Sadly, I can’t take all the credit. Did I summon the Fallen here? Yes. Did I ensure Suture remained ignorant of the vortex until the last moment? Yes, I did that too. But you? Gwynn? No, I had nothing to do with that. Why would I? If anything, the two of you have been thorns in my side.”

  “So what did they promise you?”

  “Simple. A world where I would be the All–Father. And death to every world the progeny of Odin ever touched.”

  Pridament’s heart ached. “Why? Have you always hated us so much? We used to play as boys. Paltar always believed in you.”

  “Please. Paltar thought I was a simpleton. His ‘respect’ was nothing more than pity. I’m through being the shadow. It’s time for me to take my proper place upon a throne.”

  “So what?” Pridament spat. “You killed Paltar and used his blood to summon the Gorgon?”

  “Brilliant, don’t you think?” Hodur wore a hungry smile. “If the Greeks had been here, it wouldn’t have been so effective. But those trained by Asgard were little prepared for it. I admit I’m curious how you defeated it.”

  “Turns out the blood of a god not only summons the monster, it can also banish it.”

  Hodur regarded Pridament suspiciously. “How could you know? That’s magic older than Asgard.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m guessing the Fallen told you. Did they find out during their travels perhaps?”

  Hodur shrugged. “Perhaps. Does it matter? The fact is the Gorgon saturated the vortex with energy. Nothing will stop it. All that remains is for me to end you and the boy. Once that’s done, I’ll leave for my new home and begin my reign.”

  Pridament summoned his staff. He flipped it from hand to hand, making a show of his effortless control. “If I recall, you might have a hard time backing up those words.”

  Hodur’s hand reached behind the elevator and came back with a spear. “Oh, I think this might even the odds a little.”

  “Since when did you use a spear?”

  A burning evil filled Hodur’s eyes. “Not just a spear, brother. This weapon is ages old, the slayer of gods. How do you think I managed to slay Paltar? No weapon of man or Veil has ever managed to scratch him. But this, yes, this will make all the difference.”

  Hodur launched at Pridament, the sharpened blade of the spear glistening in its desire to mete out death.

  Pridament sidestepped, bringing his staff upward to knock the spear’s razor tip aside. Preoccupied with the spear, he left his side open, where Hodur’s delivered a savage kick. Pridament stumbled. Hodur spun. Pridament threw his staff behind him just turning the spear away from his spine. It cut through the fabric of his coat. Pridament dropped his arm from the coat and tried to catch the spear in it.

  Too slow.

  Hodur pushed the spear upward, glancing it along Pridament’s cheek.

  Pridament stumbled back, the left side of his face burning. Warm blood trickled down and followed the line of his chin. He threw the coat off.

  “First blood.” Hodur said. “Times have changed, haven’t they brother?”

  Pridament took four steps further back. He brushed against the Veil, drawing on its energies to heal his wound. His heart pounded against his throat when the blood still flowed.

  “No sense seeking the Veil for help.” Hodur hissed. “I told you, this spear is a god slayer. No matter how much you draw from the Veil, no wound will heal faster than its time.”

  Hodur took a large step forward and continued the spear around his body. Pridament held his staff to the side, blocking the spear. The strike landed so hard it reverberated through his arms into his chest. Blocking the spear did nothing to stop Hodur continuing forward, his fist smashing into Pridament’s cheek.

  Pridament stumbled backward, striking the wall containing the elevators.

  Hodur brought the spear down in a death arc toward Pridament’s head. Pridament brought his staff up, blocking the strike. Hodur leaned his weight behind the spear, forcing Pridament to his knees.

  “So how close is your world to this one?” Hodur asked.

  Pridament grit his teeth. “Best I figure, almost ten years.”

  Pridament fell to the ground and rolled. The spear struck the ground sending a fountain of debris into the air.

  Hodur’s heavy boot caught Pridament in the side, sending him sprawling across the floor.

  “Ten years.” Hodur said. “About the time my brother in this world died. That would mean Gwynn was your son at one point, right.”

  Pridament swung his staff at Hodur’s feet. The man took an easy, relaxed step over it. Another boot to the midsection.

  Bits of drywall rained down on Pridament as he slammed into the far wall.

  “That would also mean you ran away from Asgard. You should’ve seen father. I mean, I’ve seen him angry, but nothing like that.”

  Pridament ducked, the spear striking the wall where his head had been.

  “This is almost therapeutic.” Hodur exclaimed. “All the things I wanted to say, all the questions I’ve had. In this world, you died before I could ask. But now…” The spear glanced across Pridament’s shoulder. “…I can finally have some answers”

  Pridament rolled away. He slammed his staff into the small of Hodur’s back sending his brother sprawling against the wall.

  Pridament backed away, his shoulder on fire and numbness crept downward into his arm.

  Hodur charged. Staff, spear, staff, spear, the constant dance of assault and parry.

  White searing pain erupted from Pridament’s side, like shards of glass radiated from the impact and tore through his torso.

  “You’ve been slumming on Midgard too long, brother.” Hodur’s breath was hot and foul. “It looks like this is over.”

  26/ The Children of Odin

  Gwynn followed the tugging at his core. The air of the tenth floor crackled and nipped at his flesh. Perhaps the windows were tinted, or the barrier blocked out the light, or Gwynn had lost sense of time, but the outside world appeared dark and evil.

  “I knew you would come.” A woman’s voice said.

  Gwynn faced toward the right of the building. Her stance was relaxed, catlike. Her silver hair in a ponytail and glowing with a preternatural light.

  “Elaios.” Gwynn said.

  She tut–tutted behind her teeth. “I suppose if I asked you to just let me put you down like a rabid dog, you would protest.”

  Gwynn gripped Xanthe harder.

  “Just a few days and you’re stronger already. Impressive. Most Anunnakis can’t draw anything from the Veil for years. Yet here you are, sword in hand, having vanquished a Gorgon.”

  “Where’s the tear?” Gwynn did his best to keep his voice steady.

  Elaios laughed—a high–pitched shriek. Underneath it ran a mocking tone that sent a pang of despair through Gwynn.

  “You’re too late. It’s already closed.”

  Gwynn ran to his left, the closest outside windows furthest from Elaios. Outside the vortex spun faster, darker, and hungrier. Her piercing laughter sent waves of heat and anger through him.

  “What you should have done,” Elaios said, “was forget this whole wor
ld and run away with Pridament. You would’ve survived a little longer then.”

  Gwynn turned to face her. Elaios’ face hardened.

  “So why are you still here?” Gwynn asked.

  “One last, most important task.” The air sparked as her fists burst into blue flame. “You need to die.”

  §

  Hodur twisted the spear. Waves of pain crashed through Pridament’s body.

  “Before we end this,” Hodur said, “I just want to know one thing. Was it worth it—throwing away a godhood?”

  “I only have one word for you.” Pridament rasped. He coughed and tasted blood in the back of his throat.

  “And that would be?” Hodur’s eyes filled with a delighted greed and desire to mock whatever he might say.

  Pridament locked his gaze on Hodur. “Mjollnir.”

  Hodur’s eyes widened in horror. A loud thunderclap sounded and lightning erupted from Pridament’s right hand, throwing Hodur across the floor.

  Cool steel pressed against his skin and the familiar weight in his hand. It sent a joyful energy through him. He tore the spear from his side. He had little doubt that he should be in pain, but a thunderstorm tore through his veins that would rob even death of its sting.

  “That’s impossible.” Hodur stammered. “You had a seal placed on you when you deserted Asgard. No one breaks a seal of Odin.”

  Pridament hefted the hammer, its electric blue glow filling his vision. “You forget brother, I’m dead in this world, and the seal died with me.”

  The air smelled of ozone as Hodur drew two battle–axes from the Veil.

  “That’s more like I remember.” Pridament said. “Enough trick spears. You want to take me down? Then see if you can with your own power.”

  Hodur charged. The battle–axes sliced through the air. Pridament stepped aside with ease. Hodur’s momentum carried him a step further. Pridament slammed the hammer into Hodur’s back, rewarding him with a loud crunching noise.

  Hodur stumbled and fell to the floor.

  “You want to know why I left Asgard?” Pridament asked. “You want to know if it was worth it?”

  Hodur huffed; his chest heaved with every breath. “I told you.” He gasped. “I wanted answers.”

  Pridament moved to Hodur’s side and knelt down to see his eyes.

  “I left because I loved my family. I left because of the bitch you’re working for.”

  “Elaios?”

  “That wasn’t always her name. I’m sure you remember who and what she was before becoming a Fallen.”

  Hodur coughed, his eyes dazed. Was he in any shape to recall?

  “A Vala.” Hodur groaned. “A seer.”

  “Not just any Vala. The one who told Odin of Ragnarok.”

  “She was the one who saw the end of the gods?” Hodur spat blood. “As if any such thing could happen now. What did she do to you?”

  Pridament drew a long breath. It found all the wounds that refused to heal, sending shivers of pain through him. Mjollnir was mighty, but it didn’t prevent Hodur from healing himself with the Veil. How long would he play the game of having mortal injuries? Still, it didn’t matter. A weight lifted from Pridament. How long had he wanted to explain? Too many years had gone by with him carrying his burden alone.

  “She did nothing to me. Only told me a prophecy. One that she gave me proof enough to believe.”

  “That made you abandon us?”

  Warm tears built up to rush down his face. “She told me that I would be responsible for starting Ragnarok. I thought if I left that I could avoid it and save everyone. I was wrong. The end is coming anyway.”

  Pridament drew a deep, ragged breath. He stood and took five paces backward. “You can stand up Hodur; I know you’ve all but healed yourself.”

  Hodur turned his head toward Pridament, a sly smile crossing his lips. The battle–axes faded back to the Veil and he stood, brushing himself off.

  “The possum defense never was much use against you, was it?” Hodur said. “Is it true, what you’re saying? Could she really have convinced you that you would start Ragnarok?”

  “She did. I’m still convinced. All I can do now is try to stop it.”

  Hodur shook his head and let out a dry and humorless laugh. “Well, I have my answer. It’s too bad it changes nothing. If you truly feel you’re the cause of the twilight of the gods, then lie down here and die with this world. That should prevent the curse from troubling the rest of us.”

  “It’s not that simple and you know it. If Ragnarok has started, it’ll play throughout the entirety of creation. No world will be safe.”

  “Thanks for the warning brother. But when the spawn of Loki come knocking, I’ll have a whole world ready to end them. It helps to be a lone and great god. Stay here. Your end will be far less painful and bloody.”

  Pridament reached out, but a wave of energy slammed into him and smashed him against the wall. Squinting against the intensity of the white light, he saw wings enfold Hodur. A final flash forced him to turn his face away and heat pricked his skin and his open wounds burned. A minute passed before the floor plunged into darkness again.

  Pridament was on his hands and knees. Warmth spread across his abdomen where blood continued to spill from his wound. Maybe Hodur was right, maybe it would be easier to just lie down and let the end come. After all, there might be another him. Maybe that version had managed to get life right. Maybe he had found a lasting love and held tight to his child. Here in the quiet dark, it was easy to see the disaster his life had become. Surrender seemed so simple.

  A sound like an explosion came from above, sending cables and debris spraying from the ceiling.

  Maybe he had lost his son. Maybe the him who had lived in this world abandoned his son for the embrace of death. But fate had drawn them together—the orphaned son and broken father. Perhaps this was his hope for salvation.

  Pridament searched for the spear. When he had it, he pushed open the stairwell door and went to save the son that wasn’t his.

  §

  Fuyuko slammed the Fallen into the rail. From the corner of her eye, she caught Gwynn make it through the door.

  The Fallen shoved. Fuyuko’s feet left the ground, the sight of descending stairs passed beneath her. She reached within herself and touched the part of her within the Veil. The cold vastness opened within her.

  In the times when she severed herself from the Veil, she felt so small, closed, and powerless. But the enormity of the resource in the Veil, that was somehow also her, felt limitless. She drew on it, focused the power into her arms and her spear. She rammed it into the wall, halting her descent. Momentum continued her moving. She swung around the shaft of the spear and came to rest crouched on it.

  The fallen stood motionless, stunned.

  She wanted to gloat and laugh at his obvious underestimation of her. She wanted this moment to be a story she would talk boisterously about when she returned to Suture.

  She wouldn’t do any of those things. That would be dishonorable.

  She didn’t do this for fun or thrills. She did it out of a sense of duty and birthright. The moment you took too pleasure in it, when pride blotted out common sense, was the day something put you to an end.

  She swung down to the floor, pulling the spear free. The Fallen made for the door to pursue Gwynn. Fuyuko dashed up the stairs and drew on the Veil. The familiar chill filled her core. She imagined it coursing through her, up to her hands. Such intense cold, she often marveled at the fact it didn’t burn her. Fuyuko curled her fingers as though she were holding a ball. In that space, she focused the energies coursing from the Veil through her. The moisture in the air froze. Years of practice compressed complex actions into fractions of a second. A moment later, she hurled the ice dagger toward the Fallen, who stumbled back to avoid it.

  She reached the tenth floor landing and slashed with her spear. The Fallen leaped over the rail and landed with a thud on the stairs on the other side.

  Fuyuko
slammed the door to the tenth floor shut, filling the lock and gap around the door with ice.

  The Fallen charged up the stairs toward the midway landing beneath Fuyuko. Before his feet touched the landing, he jumped upward and pushed off the wall, sending him propelling toward Fuyuko, cleavers first. She used her spear as a pole and vaulted up and over the Fallen. As she did, she swung the spear downward, producing a satisfying strip of crimson across the man’s back.

  Fuyuko landed in a crouch. The Fallen stood above her. Despite her impression that she had inflicted serious damage, he gave it little notice.

  The air crackled. The cloak that concealed the Fallen danced and shred apart. The Fallen stood revealed, his flesh a red and purple bruise. Fuyuko’s stomach gave a lurch as the man’s muscles rippled, expanded, and split as sharp metal protrusions forced themselves out of his skin.

  The Fallen howled and flung his arm forward. Several razor shards hurtled toward Fuyuko.

  She twisted to her right to avoid one, and then fell backward to the floor avoiding another. More razor projectiles sent her rolling across the floor to avoid being shredded. She leaped to her feet as a dozen sharp projectiles flew toward her. She ran back toward the wall and used it to propel herself up and over the shards. She flipped over and tucked her arms in as she fell straight down the central shaft of the stairwell. Fuyuko let her spear flow away and then drew on the energies of the Veil. She reached out and grabbed a rail to cease her descent. Her arms would’ve ripped from their sockets, but the arms holding the rails were not her own. Instead, they were a bluish tinge, large and muscular. She had only ever allowed the Veil this much of her body, and only in the most dire of circumstances. As much as the thing in the Veil might also be her, she feared allowing it too much control.

  Fuyuko flipped herself up onto the stairs. Below, the battle between the members of Suture and the Curses continued. Above, the massive Fallen crashed its way down the stairs toward her.

  She laid her hands on the stairs in front of her and prayed she had time to do the job right. It had to be just the right layer of ice. The Fallen approached, maybe too close to get the job done.