God of War--The Official Novelization

by J. M. Barlog

  The World Serpent’s head followed them from the water’s surface below.

  “Good. Now place my lips to the horn,” Mimir ordered.

  Once there, Mimir blew into the reed mouthpiece to create a low, mystical note that echoed across the vast caldera. Atreus watched in excited anticipation as the giant serpent rose from beneath the dark water. The snake advanced, but it seemed distracted by the large Thor statue on the caldera’s outer ring. Before uttering a word, the serpent reared back, releasing a loud hiss, and bit down on the statue, shearing Thor in half at the waist.

  “Why did it do that?” Atreus whispered.

  “Odin ordered that statue made in Thor’s honor. Seeing as how the World Serpent absolutely abhors the fat dobber, it was probably sick of looking at it,” Mimir whispered back.

  The serpent angled its head back to swallow the statue.

  “But doesn’t that hurt?” Atreus asked.

  “The serpent and Thor have a bit of an unpleasant history between them, or will, anyway. Guess waking up to it was worse than the thought of solid stone passing through its gullet. Want me to ask it?”

  “No! Our only concern is Jötunheim,” Kratos interjected.

  The serpent shifted its attention to Mimir. Once again, its deep, harmonic voice emerged. “Ennnnndoooooooo. Thoooooo blooooooo toooooox,” the serpent said.

  “You again. Have you come to sacrifice the axe?” Mimir translated.

  Kratos yanked Mimir’s head from his belt, offering it up to the giant snake.

  “Wish me luck!” Mimir shouted.

  Clearing his throat before contorting his lips into an unnatural shape, Mimir released an equally deep harmonic chant, a low rumble with concurrent tongue clicks.

  “Yooooooor-moooooooo hin meeee-meeeeeeeeer,” Mimir said.

  “What did you say to it?” Atreus asked.

  “Jörmungandr, it is me, Mimir.”

  The serpent leaned in for a closer look.

  “Yaaaaw-ehhhhhhh-thaaaaa foooooh-raaaaah,” it offered in response.

  “Yes, but there used to be more of you,” Mimir again translated, with a slight laugh. “Shift me closer,” he ordered Kratos.

  Kratos complied, though he could see no reason for the head to be any closer to the giant creature.

  “I’ve still got it, lads. He remembers me! Lyoooooooooo… Oh! That’s not it!” Mimir muttered when he realized he had erred. “Maaaaaw-lon-gooooo vih-nooooor kooooon tooooon,” he then tried. Kratos and Atreus waited anxiously.

  “My friends here are searching for entry into Jötunheim,” he translated for them.

  The great serpent recoiled suddenly, baring monstrous fangs.

  “Oh, dear,” Mimir muttered.

  “Ehhhhhh-kooooo… noooooh oh-thooooo voo-nooooor,” the serpent spat in response.

  “No, no! They are no friends of Odin, quite the opposite. They seek only to pay final respects to the boy’s mother. I mean, Ehhhhhhh-yooooounaaa tooooob sooolaooooo megaaawoooo.”

  The serpent twisted its neck to further scrutinize Atreus and Kratos.

  “Mooooon-veeeee-taaaaah. Thaaaaaw-toooool Teeeeer,” the serpent uttered.

  “Ahh. First, we need a sliver from the tip of the sacred chisel. We must also learn the Black Rune, secreted away in the Temple of Týr,” Mimir said.

  “Yooooo soout aaaaaaaz keeee soooo luuuu paaaaut,” the serpent doled out next.

  “What else is it saying?” Kratos grumbled.

  “He understands the pain of your loss,” Mimir said.

  “Baaaaaw-thooooor-thaaaaah. Gooouul-dooooo,” came next from the serpent.

  “Efni. Ooooo-fooooon-goooor,” Mimir offered in response. “Curious, though,” he muttered.

  “What is?” Kratos asked.

  “Nothing to be concerned about,” Mimir said.

  The serpent suddenly pressed its massive head against the caldera bridge. Exerting its colossal strength, it pushed the structure—with Kratos and Atreus still on it—in a different direction.

  “W-what’s he doing?” Atreus stuttered.

  “Making certain we head in the right direction. To etch the rune to Jötunheim, no ordinary mortal instrument will suffice. Hence, sliver from the tip of a very special chisel. Luckily, that is not too far away,” Mimir said.

  The bridge completed its rotation then locked into place.

  “Thanks!” Atreus called up with a wave.

  Kratos and Atreus proceeded to the lower level of the bridge, noticing that the serpent’s shift further reduced the water level, which now exposed a new ornate door. Reaching the boat dock, they climbed into a boat to take them through the canyons.

  “It looked like the World Serpent was gonna eat us!” Atreus said.

  “My fault. A misplaced click or two created some confusion. He thought I said you were friends of Odin. You will have to forgive me. Truth is, I have never spoken the ancient tongue while sober.”

  “It did not sound like you were saying a lot… but you were saying a lot!” Atreus said.

  “Well, the ancient tongue makes use of multiple streams of communication at once. Tricky, but efficient.”

  “You think maybe I could learn it?” Atreus asked.

  “You? I gather you might be uniquely suited for it. Just watch you don’t destroy your voice.”

  * * *

  For monotonous hours they rowed in silence through the canyons, with stacks of snow-covered pines towering on both sides. Mimir seemed at peace with his new condition.

  “Before, you said I should not be concerned with what the snake said. I am concerned,” Kratos said.

  “It is really nothing. He just said that the boy seemed already familiar to him when he encountered him that first time you two met.”

  “Me?” Atreus interjected.

  “How can that be? This is the first time the boy has ever left our forest. The snake does not know him,” Kratos insisted, though the notion churned inside his mind.

  “Well, that may not exactly be true. You see, the World Serpent is fated to kill Thor during Ragnarök, and the God of Thunder is fated to kill him. As they fight, the Tree of Life shakes so violently, it splinters—and the World Serpent is cast backward through time. Now he is trapped in a time before he has even been born. It is all much clearer in the ancient tongue.”

  “Um… What?” Atreus said.

  “Your future is actually his past. This was the first time you met him, but it may not be the first time he met you,” Mimir said with a sigh.

  “Fate is but another lie told by the gods. Nothing is written that cannot be unwritten,” Kratos said.

  “Whatever you say,” Atreus said. “So, Mimir, why is the World Serpent the only giant left? Where did they all go?”

  “That, my boy, is one of the greatest mysteries of the nine realms. Nobody knows. Not even me. The leading theory is that they called it a day and went home… smashing all the realm bridges to Jötunheim along the way, so no one could follow. Others think it was somehow Odin’s doing.”

  “What do you think?” Atreus asked.

  “Me? I think after centuries of suffering at the hands of Thor and that damn hammer, they chose to lick their wounds in private, and plan their next steps in peace. It is too bad. I was fond of every giant I ever met.”

  “So, Mimir… why is Odin so desperate to find a way into Jötunheim, anyway?” Atreus asked.

  “He is convinced the giants hold the key to changing his fate when Ragnarök comes. They are the Aesir’s oldest enemies. It’s their army that is supposed to do him in, in the end. But more than that, he covets their gifts of prophecy.”

  “Wait. Isn’t Ragnarök what is fated to happen? You can’t change that.”

  “Try telling Odin that. He is one of the few who does not believe it is a foregone conclusion. Things do not end well for him and the Aesir, or even the world, for that matter. He chooses not to believe in the event. It all turns out to be tommyrot.”

  “Mimir, Freya’s magic is pr
etty strong, right? I saw her heal her boar when it was badly wounded, and she even brought life back to you. Do you think she could do that with… you know, other people?”

  Mimir’s pause suggested he was weighing his words.

  “Boy, what she has done to me should not be visited upon someone you love. Look at me. I will never be completely what I was.”

  Sadness washed over Atreus as he came to understand Mimir’s meaning. His life would also never be the same. He could never go back to the past, when he had his mother. He could never go back and change the relationship he had with his father. But maybe it was not about going back. Maybe it’s about changing the future by altering what is done in the moment.

  “I see.”

  “Fact is, I am not entirely certain this is not all just some horrible, horrible dream,” Mimir said. “Not… that… you and your father are not just lovely people… uh,” he added moments later.

  A long silence ensued.

  “It’s getting colder,” Atreus said, vigorously rubbing his arms. “Do you feel it getting colder?” he directed to Mimir.

  “Yes, I do believe it is,” Mimir said.

  “Tell me about this chisel we seek,” Kratos said.

  “Gladly. A giant named Thamur—a very giant giant—was without question the greatest stonemason in this world. He set out to build a great wall around Jötunheim to protect his people from the Aesir. Proud Thamur hoped to one day pass his vast knowledge on to his son, but young Hrimthur had the heart of a warrior. A quarrel of theirs spiraled out of control, and the overworked stonemason struck his son in anger. Hrimthur ran off. Thamur chased after him, but soon found himself wandering Midgard, lost and alone. Sadly, he caught the eye of the one person he didn’t want to meet alone at night, so far from home... Thor.”

  “What happened next?”

  “You will soon see.”

  The river soon funneled them into a cave with a low opening, forcing Kratos to almost double over to make the entry. Once inside, the cave ceiling arched many feet into the air, allowing Kratos to return upright.

  “It is freezing now. This doesn’t seem right,” Atreus commented to nobody.

  They emerged from the cave, only to be forced to a stop by a frozen lake. A dock came into view across the ice. Beyond, a huge, petrified hand of a giant stonemason’s corpse jutted out from the lake. The stonemason’s giant hammer towered a short distance from it.

  “That thing is huge beyond imagination, and Thor killed him,” Atreus said, awestruck.

  “Turn my head so I can see it,” Mimir asked.

  Kratos attempted to row, ignoring Mimir’s request, hoping the ice might be thin enough that it would crack and split open as they rowed through it. A dozen rowing strokes in, they abandoned the craft to trek the rest of the way on foot. As they neared the mostly-submerged corpse, Atreus picked out various rectangular-shaped silhouettes under the ice jutting out beneath the giant’s palm.

  “Oh no, it looks like he fell on a village,” the lad said.

  “Aye. When Thamur fell, he crushed a charming place famed for worshipping the Vanir god, Njörd. Thor always took credit for planning that one, but the truth is, the sweaty bawbag just got lucky.”

  “We seek its chisel?” Kratos said.

  “We do. The tip of it, more precisely. A very, very large chisel.”

  They approached a hut still standing close to the palm on the frozen beach. Kratos attempted to force the hut door open, but failed.

  “Magically sealed, I’m afraid,” Mimir said.

  Finding a long, curled rope beside the hut, they located a partially collapsed building under the giant’s palm, using the rope to descend into it. Their first objective was to locate the chisel, presumably under the ice. “What happened to the survivors?” Atreus asked, while surveying the surroundings.

  “Thamur was a frost giant. When he died, his final breath froze everything. Everything.”

  Using another nearby rope, they ascended back to the edge of the frozen lake. They could make out the outline of the stonemason’s giant head under the ice. The chisel they sought was buried in the head. It had cleaved his skull and was now set deep in the ice beneath him.

  “There it is,” Atreus whispered.

  “Locate the tip of that chisel. That’s the magic we need,” Mimir said.

  As they worked their way closer, the chisel’s magical tip became visible, separated from them by many feet of solid ice. Kratos and Atreus knelt on the lake for many long moments to appraise the situation more closely.

  “How are we getting down there?” Atreus pondered aloud.

  Kratos scanned their surroundings.

  “I have a plan,” Kratos announced.

  “You do?” Mimir and Atreus chorused.

  “Why do you act so surprised?” Kratos grumbled, a frown furling his brow.

  “No offense, brother, but I do not even think Thor with Mjölnir in hand could get through this much ice.”

  “Then Thor is a fool,” Kratos said.

  “Oh. This should be entertaining.”

  Suddenly, the yowling of Wulvers rang out.

  “Boy,” Kratos said, a single word; all that was needed.

  “Ready,” Atreus replied, nocking a feathered shaft into his bow.

  A tight pack of five Wulvers attacked. Atreus’ first shot took out the lead. As they came in range, Kratos cleaved two in rapid succession. Atreus’ next arrow took down the Wulver nearest his father. A flurry of well-timed and expertly aimed slashes slaughtered the remaining beast.

  Atreus’ gaze left the bodies to track along a snowy rock ledge to a rise fifty paces distant. Sindri waved from atop it.

  “Is that Sindri? Is he following us? We should ask him to help,” Atreus asked.

  “We have no time now,” Kratos said, shaking his head. The last thing he wanted was further delay caused by a dwarf. Kratos steered Atreus in the direction of a vaulted circular building, with the hammer sticking out the top of it.

  “Sindri, what are you doing here?” Atreus called out.

  “Looking for skap slag.”

  “What?”

  “What are you doing here?” Sindri called.

  “The chisel,” Atreus called.

  Sindri indicated he had failed to hear him.

  “Never mind. We keep moving,” Kratos said.

  “Mimir, you knew this place? Before?” Atreus asked.

  “Came here on a diplomatic mission once, trying to broker peace between Asgard and Vanaheim. That war… So many lives lost. What I didn’t know was Thor had already gone on a killing spree of giants.”

  “What did the giants have to do with the war between the gods?”

  “Nothing at all, lad; that is the tragedy of it. They took no side in that madness… But Odin’s paranoia and his viciousness are surpassed only by Thor’s lust for blood.”

  They entered the building, where they began ascending the shaft of Thamur’s hammer coming out of the ice.

  “Why are we going up, when what we need is all the way down there?” Atreus asked.

  “Think,” Kratos responded simply.

  “Well, the chisel tip is under thick layers of ice, so melting it won’t work.”

  “Correct.”

  “That just leaves smashing through the ice. But we would need something heavy to… Oh, now I get it.”

  “Good,” his father said with a glimmer of a smile.

  Nearing the top of the hammer, Atreus realized his father intended to use the falling hammer to smash the ice, if they could only control the fall to make it hit directly over the chisel.

  “But how do we turn the hammer so it lands where we want it to?” Atreus asked.

  “Not possible. We cut it free, ride it down, and figure out what comes after.”

  “So your plan involves a whole bunch of luck then,” Atreus said.

  “You are welcome to suggest a different one.”

  Reaching the hammer’s head, they examined the lashings of
leather straps securing the head to the shaft.

  “Hold tight,” Kratos said. Slashing the straps caused the hammer to come loose and shift. It toppled but failed to fall all the way to the ice, instead lodging against a nearby snowbound ridge alongside the building.

  “Uh. This plan seems ill-advised,” Mimir said.

  “Quiet, head,” Kratos grumbled.

  Slashing another strap allowed the hammer to shift and fall further—just not far enough. Now it crashed halfway through the building’s vaulted roof, with Kratos and Atreus jumping off to land beside it.

  “That didn’t work. It only fell a little way,” Atreus said.

  Kratos pushed the giant hammer. A moment later, Atreus joined him. It broke free and began sliding in through the hole.

  “How are we getting back down?” Atreus asked.

  “Jump.” Kratos grabbed the boy before leaping onto the hammer. Lying flat against the metal, they rode it down.

  “Do not panic!” Kratos instructed his son.

  “Why should I panic?” Atreus called back.

  Then he spied their landing site. Fear tightened around Atreus’ heart so much that his grip on the hammer faltered. Kratos shot an arm out to catch him before the lad fell away from the stone. Landing in a booming explosion of ice and stone, they came to rest in a narrow-angled pocket beneath a dome of ice debris. Kratos shifted his body to shield his son as ice chunks rained from the ceiling.

  “You truly are cracked, you know that?” Mimir said. “You are well?” he directed to the boy.

  “Wow, can we do that again?” Atreus responded, after realizing he had safely made the drop.

  “We need to keep moving.”

  Leaving the collapsed space, they discovered a split had opened up in the lake, revealing a crevasse zigzagging to the giant’s skull and their end goal—the chisel.

  “The chisel tip,” Kratos said, pointing and gloating over his handiwork.

  “I give you due credit. You do have a talent for destroying things,” Mimir replied.

  “Remember that, head.”

  “Never leaves my mind, actually.” Mimir allowed a sneer to cross his face. Luckily, his face was out of Kratos’ line of sight.

  “Look out!” Atreus shouted.