God of War--The Official Novelization

by J. M. Barlog

  “Son.” Freya’s helpless whisper came faint and breathless.

  “Come on, do it.”

  The phantom Baldur released Freya with a shove. Disgusted, he staggered from her.

  “Coward!” Baldur screamed at his phantom self, as if he were addressing a different person.

  Freya stared up at him, unmoving, drowning in tears, her lower lip quivering out of control.

  “I never want to see you again!” the phantom Baldur blurted, his anger exploding, his free hand clenched in a fist. The knife remained in the striking position, as if his inner battle still raged.

  In the next second, the phantom Baldur vanished, leaving a seething real Baldur dumbfounded at the illusion of his stunned mother.

  Kratos signaled silence with a finger to his lips. They had to hope they could slip by Baldur unnoticed. His son acknowledged the signal with a slight nod.

  Baldur advanced several steps toward Freya.

  “What you did to me,” he said calmly, like a man in complete control of his every emotion. Snatching up a discarded plank nearby, he raised it high enough to smash Freya’s head. “What you did to me!” he half-shouted, half-growled, surrendering some of his control.

  But, like his phantom, he hesitated.

  The board hovered ominously overhead. Like his phantom, he lost his nerve. Dropping the board, he began to sob, unable to kill even an illusion of his mother. He slumped to his knees. The battle inside his head had ended and the victor had emerged.

  “Coward. Worthless coward,” he cried.

  Kratos had never expected to witness Baldur’s human, vulnerable side. The man’s relentless pursuit and vicious attacks on him and his son seemed like they had been initiated by a person very different from the one now kneeling twenty paces away, still ignorant of their presence.

  Kratos and Atreus crawled beneath broken sections of the stone structure, keeping directly behind a sobbing Baldur. As long as Baldur stayed stone still, they remained safely beyond his field of vision.

  Once out of his sight, but still within range of his sobbing, they slithered beneath a broken gate, leaving Baldur to wallow in his sorrow.

  Only after they were far enough from Baldur did Atreus release a sigh of relief.

  “Freya is his mother. How did that escape your memory, head?” Kratos said, astonished.

  “I’m at a loss. I assure you I have no reason to keep such a thing a secret. I said my memory was slowly coming back.”

  “Why did she keep that from us? Does she not know he hunts us? We never told her.”

  “For what it is worth, I do not believe she colludes with her son. Those two have not spoken in years,” Mimir said.

  “Time will tell. There is the bridge,” Kratos said, to change the subject. As they advanced toward it, another voice rode the wind. A bright flash came from behind them.

  “I will put an end to this chaos,” an old man’s voice said.

  “Who was that?” Atreus asked.

  “No,” Kratos muttered to himself. Fear pervaded his face, and Atreus noticed. That voice was familiar to his father, a voice powerful enough to force his father to falter. A knot tightened around Atreus’ stomach; his hand sought the reassurance and comfort of his blade.

  Then they stopped.

  Poised before them, a phantom Kratos wore the garb from his life in Greece. Appearing much younger, beardless, and more muscular, he was speaking to someone unseen.

  The ground transformed into a bloody stone floor.

  “Such chaos. I will have much to do after I kill you,” the old man said.

  “Face me, Father. It is time we end this,” the phantom Kratos responded.

  “Yes, my son. It is time. Only one of us will be left to live.”

  With the sound of crackling ice, the illusion vanished.

  Atreus struggled to fathom what he had just witnessed. His father looked so different from the man he grew up with.

  “Mind nothing you see here, boy.”

  Atreus knew he could never just dismiss what he had seen, and what he might see, as they progressed toward the spectral bridge. He ruminated over the visions he had witnessed earlier about himself. They were stark; they were brutal; but they were true.

  “Come on. We have to go,” Atreus pressed.

  “Yes.”

  They found the only way ahead was onto the deck of a single-mast, two-tier warship with an enormous sail, moored at the end of the dock beside the bridge.

  “What now?” Atreus asked, scanning around them.

  “Yes… what now? Only the dead can cross that bridge, and, last I checked, I’m the only dead one in our party,” Mimir said.

  “I could roll you across, if you would like,” Kratos offered, annoyed.

  A siren shrieked like a chorus of a thousand dead voices wailing in unison.

  “What is that?” Atreus said.

  “That would be the city being alerted to our presence,” Mimir informed them.

  Areas of the dock were now illuminated with harsh light, as if the place were being jarred awake. Soldiers of the dead charged down the pier at them.

  Screaming, Kratos charged the incoming horde, cleaving the clamoring Hel-walkers in two with his chain blades. Legs toppled in one direction while torsos spun in another. The corpses became a littering of small fires dotting the ground. Only after the last one had fallen did Atreus advance to huddle on his knees beside them, to gather their warmth.

  “We should not stay,” Kratos said.

  “Wait… but these bodies are burning,” Atreus said.

  “So?”

  “Yes. And if we wait around here long enough, we can have ourselves a bonfire,” Mimir added sardonically.

  Kratos ascended the warship’s mast, hacking it in half. Then, using the chain blades and his weight to pull down the top of the sail, he formed a makeshift balloon. From his vantage point at the top of the severed pole, he spied hundreds of undead mustering for an organized assault. His hastily concocted plan had better work.

  Scanning the deck, Kratos studied the thick black tar that covered a large area of the ship’s rigging. “Not entirely sure this thing is seaworthy,” Mimir said, unable to keep his own fears out of his words.

  “She will do,” Kratos grumbled. They had no other options at that moment.

  He had to free the rigging, and free it quickly. Using his chain blades and a stone, he set the tar ablaze, which disappeared from the water-soaked rigging timbers as it was spent. Racing over to the sail crank and working it with both hands, the now-freed sail began to fill with hot air. His idea had to work.

  With a lurch that jolted both father and son, the vessel surged forward and upward into the air. “We’re moving upward! Just like the lantern!” Atreus called out. He could see a smile on his father’s face.

  They could get out of this wretched place.

  “Great. Just bear in mind—this boat can only take us part of the way. Týr’s temple is near the top of a tremendous waterfall, which, sadly, we are downstream from. That means even if we get there intact, we’d still need to sail up a waterfall somehow,” Mimir informed them, much to their dismay.

  “The Vanir built the greatest ship that ever was, and it can fly,” Atreus said.

  “Skíðblaðnir? Because it was designed to fly. This was not,” Mimir corrected.

  “Nevertheless, this is the boat we have. We make do,” Kratos said.

  They had not floated far when the ship collided with a giant jagged iceberg, drifting lazily through the frigid air.

  “We’re stuck,” Atreus called back.

  “On perhaps the biggest iceberg I’ve ever seen. We are now officially sunk,” Mimir said.

  “At least the fire’s still making heat,” Atreus said. “What now?”

  Kratos did the only thing he could think of at that moment. He withdrew his Leviathan axe and began chopping feverishly at the catch that impeded the sail’s full release.

  “You’re chopping it?” Atreus s
aid. It seemed an impossible feat.

  “Give your father room,” Mimir butted in.

  After a dozen forceful hacks, the catch broke apart, releasing the mainstay and fully untethering the sail.

  “Great. So now the sail is loose…” Atreus commented, still unable to visualize his father’s plan.

  Kratos jumped onto the balustrade to fasten the sail in such a way as to create more makeshift balloon pockets above the deck. Once he had finished, the pockets caught the warm air to glide the ship over the iceberg.

  “It’s actually working,” Atreus said, amazed such a feat could actually be accomplished. He dashed to the side of the deck for a better view of what lay ahead.

  Before he could react, the ship jolted sideways, throwing both him and his father to the deck. The half-mast struck the towering bridge architecture.

  “And we’re stuck again,” Atreus announced, pulling his feet beneath him and moving to the site of the contact.

  “Not for long. Stay with the boat,” Kratos said.

  “I can’t believe it. You just turned this ship into a huge sky lantern,” Atreus said, impressed with his father’s sudden ingenuity.

  Kratos crossed over to the tower that snagged the ship. He pulled on the tower crank, and the lodged bridge section fractured just enough to free the ship.

  “That did it. We’re loose!” Atreus said as the ship began to rise anew.

  “Wait for me there!” Kratos ordered.

  “We need to talk, brother,” Mimir said. “You do realize it’s over, don’t you? Even if we make it back to Midgard, you and Baldur destroyed the only gate to Jötunheim. We are out of options. And that boy there… he’s in nine kinds of pain. His head’s turned so far around, he…”

  “Atreus is not your concern,” Kratos said.

  “Well, he might become everyone’s concern if you don’t do something. You don’t have to be the smartest man in the world to see that.”

  A few seconds later, Atreus informed him, “Look! Now we’re stuck on this bridge!”

  Kratos repositioned himself where the edge of their ship was lodged under a tower bridge. He looked back over his shoulder to his son watching nearby.

  “Atreus.” He gestured at the tower. Atreus rushed over to join him.

  “I can help.” Atreus moved next to his father.

  “Together now.”

  With all their strength, they pushed the tower structure. Atreus felt the vessel move, though just a little. He couldn’t believe the strength he had surging in his arms. A moment later, the ship became dislodged from the tower.

  “We did it. We’re free,” the lad called out.

  The ship surged forward across the cold Helheim sky. “We are going to get out of here,” Atreus said.

  Another bright flash spread over their heads.

  “Face me, Father. It is time to end this,” a phantom voice wavered through the air. It was Kratos’ voice from another time and another place.

  “Yes, my son. It is time,” responded the old man’s voice.

  “No…” Kratos whispered to himself. His worst nightmare presented itself for his son to witness.

  “It’s that voice again. Do you know who that is?” Atreus said.

  “Head, how long before we reach the temple?” Kratos asked loudly, hoping to divert the conversation.

  “Yeah, it’s freezing,” Atreus agreed.

  “As long as we maintain this speed and those fires don’t go out, we should be there in no time, lad,” Mimir reassured.

  “How’d you even think to do this, Father?”

  “I… do not know.”

  “Are you all right?” Atreus said, upon seeing the distracted look on his father’s face.

  “Yes. Now stay close to the fire and rest,” Kratos said.

  As the ship continued to float across Helheim, Hel-walkers launched themselves off the roofs of the passing architecture. Kratos attacked them as they landed, hacking and slicing them before they could launch a fight. After a few moments, some of the Hel-walkers broke away from the fight.

  “They are trying to put out the fire! Right-hand side! I mean—starboard!” Atreus yelled to his father.

  The Hel-walkers sought to extinguish the fires keeping the ship aloft. The harder Kratos fought, the more other Hel-walkers reached the flames to dampen them.

  “Hurry! We’re going to flip over!” Atreus said, feeling the ship listing to the port side. “We’re sinking.”

  As the boat soared close to another iceberg, knife-like shards scraped its sides. “Iceberg! Port side!”

  “Hold on!” Kratos called out.

  Even before they could react to the latest threat, a huge harpoon flew out of nowhere to snare the ship. Its impact jarred them on the deck.

  “Something is stopping us! Port side!” Atreus called.

  Kratos hacked the last of the Hel-walkers in time to reach the balustrade and gaze down at the harpoon.

  “Harpoon! I will free us!”

  Using his chain blades to secure him, Kratos went over the side of the ship to hack the harpoon free of the hull.

  The ship surged toward the next obstacle in their path. “We’re going to hit that bridge!” Atreus shouted.

  Kratos swung himself back onto the deck, but before he could react, the ship ricocheted off the bridge with an explosion of dust and rubble. Luckily, the craft remained stable in the sky as it cleared the chasm and sailed over the foothills of Helheim. Watching the ground racing by below, they passed the carcass of the bridge keeper at the bridge entrance.

  “We’re almost back! Look! Straight ahead. I see it!” Atreus said. He smiled at the thought of leaving such a formidable realm.

  Slam! Slam!

  Another set of harpoons slashed into the hull.

  “We’ve stopped again!”

  “More harpoons,” Kratos reported.

  “We’re pitching!” Atreus called.

  The harpoons’ weight drew the ship’s foredeck downward.

  Using his chain blades, Kratos had to sacrifice the ship’s bow to break them free of the harpoons.

  “Guess we didn’t need that part of the boat!” Atreus said.

  Kratos looked up to see the realm travel temple in the distance. They were almost there.

  “The temple! We made it!” Atreus said. “Wait. We’re going too fast. We’re going to fly past it!”

  Before they could reach the temple, a dense fog cascaded in from their starboard side, completely enveloping the ship. A flash spread through the air.

  “It is time, my son,” the phantom voice of the old man said.

  In a panic Kratos spun about, following the mist as it drifted over the deck, where it solidified into an old man with a white beard and glowing white eyes.

  Zeus was collapsed on the ground, bloody, beaten, and pitiful.

  A moment later, the younger, beardless phantom Kratos appeared in Greek attire. He threw down one chain blade, then the other, then he rushed at Zeus.

  The phantom Kratos grabbed Zeus by the throat, lifted him into the air, then slammed him to the floor. He punched the old man several times, following up with a knee to the face. Then came more punches, finishing with a head slam against stone. Blood splattered with every punch. Viciously, the God of War battered him, repeatedly and unrelenting.

  Across the deck, Atreus stood in disbelief, witnessing every brutal punch. Then something caused his face to change from horror to panic. He rushed to his father, shaking him and pulling him away from the vision as it disappeared.

  “Come on. We gotta go,” he said to his father.

  “You saw…”

  “There’s no time, look!”

  The floating ship struck another tower on the bridge, crashing through it. Caroming off the structure, the ship’s trajectory shifted, putting it on a collision course with the realm travel temple.

  “I have a plan!” Atreus said, seizing his father’s arm. “Jump!”

  They leapt from the boat, falling
into the realm travel temple below, landing in an antechamber.

  Moments later, gazing back at the sky, they watched the ship crash into the temple.

  “That was your plan? You’re both cracked!” Mimir said, elated that they had survived the fall.

  “We are leaving this realm. Now,” Kratos said.

  “As long as we didn’t wreck our way back…” Atreus added.

  Debris sealed off the entrance to the domed room, forcing them to find another way inside. They navigated through a series of hidden rooms under the dome.

  “What is this place?” Atreus asked, scanning what might be a library.

  “This is Odin’s. I’d recognize his atrocious taste anywhere,” Mimir commented. “Look at all this… The amount of arcane knowledge hidden between these walls.”

  “I would rather not be here when Odin returns. Come,” Kratos said.

  “Look at that! It’s the missing panel, about…” Atreus said, indicating a panel on the other side of the room depicting Týr moving through the air over the watching commoners.

  “Odin must have stolen it. But why?” the lad asked.

  “He always has his reasons. Might I have a look?” Mimir asked. Kratos lifted the head so he could examine the triptych panel. “Well… this is most unexpected.”

  “Why? What does it mean?” Atreus asked.

  “Haven’t the foggiest. Isn’t that unexpected?” Mimir laughed.

  “Head…” Kratos snapped.

  “Look, clearly that’s Týr… traveling, somehow, perhaps magically. But what’s that to do with the giants, that they should devote a shrine to it? I’m afraid that’s none too clear.”

  “What are those runes in the corners?”

  “Not runes. Symbols… from different lands. They mean…”

  “War,” Kratos said.

  “Aye.”

  “How do you…?” Atreus asked.

  “This one I know too well,” Kratos said, pointing to an Omega symbol in the upper right corner.

  Kratos broke the ensuing awkward silence. “His eyes. They are jewels. Like yours,” he said.

  “No doubt signifying the gift of sight the giants granted us… Give me a closer look,” Mimir said. Kratos elevated and angled Mimir’s head to the metal depiction of Týr.