As soon as the group entered the elevator, the security guard pulled the ID attached to an elastic band on his belt. He tagged the ID on a scanner embedded in the panel of the elevator. Once done, his hand traveled up across the rows of buttons until they reached the very top. He then pressed the button marked ‘P’.
Maitho shared a look with the others.
Questions flitted around in his head like moths circling a lamp. Just what power did Erik hold? Was all of this a result of Cray’s influence? More importantly, was Erik going to offer more answers or more questions?
The elevator rose. Soft piano music flooded the cabin, hoping to calm its inhabitants. Yet all it did was make Maitho more nervous. The inside of the elevator was a lesson in gold. There were gold designs plastered across three sides. There was no mirror. It wasn’t needed. One was not allowed to indulge in their own vanity. They were supposed to focus on the aesthetics of the elevator.
It was a show of opulence. Maitho also noticed that there was a few inches of space between the ‘P’ on the panel and the rest of the buttons. Maitho understood that the letter indicated ‘Penthouse,’ but he wondered if it somehow didn’t also signify ‘Power.’
When they arrived at their floor destination, the doors opened to a large hall.
Maitho took a step outside the elevator. Then he stopped. He noticed the others do the same.
The hall was wider than a tennis court and probably more than twice its length. The entire space was a canvas of marble and stone. Black marble pillars were arranged in two rows on either side of the room, giving the impression that Maitho was about to walk through door frames. There were three pillars in each row and between each was a stone pedestal holding a box-shaped glass container. Each box held an object. Maitho could not make out what they were. In one, he spotted a three-pronged golden spear, the tip of which was visible in the glass box but the rest of it seemed to disappear into the pedestal. The weapon seemed oddly familiar but his attention became distracted. More specfically, it was at what lay on the other side of the hall.
The hall ended in a flight of steps that led to an elevated platform, which held a wide room.
Inside the room was a wide marble table, behind which was seated a figure.
Maitho began walking towards whom he was certain was Erik Odinson.
As he made his way across the floor space, he noticed that the marbled pillars had gold designs embedded into them. The designs were all the same—they all featured a tree, its trunk facing the elevator but its branches encircling the entire pillar like hundreds of snakes reaching for the ceiling.
At the end of each row of pillars was a large stone wolf, its jaws opened wide. Each beast was facing the direction of the elevator and had its paws outstretched, its claws reaching for a giant globe on a stone pedestal. One of the globes was the color of a calming blue while the other was a fiery orange.
“Skoll and Hati,” said Maitho, unaware that he had spoken out aloud until he heard a voice respond to him.
“You know your history,” said the figure behind the table, who had closed a folder he had been busy inspecting and placed an expensive looking pen above it. He rose from his position and made his way around the table. He didn’t walk fast, but neither was he slow. It was the measured steps of someone who showed courtesy, but didn’t walk the pace set by others.
He was his own master. He was his own follower.
A coffee table that looked so round that it must have been created using a compass dominated the floor space in front of Erik’s desk. A single sofa mirrored the curvature of the table, but only surrounding the lower half, and featured a gap in between to allow people to pass through rather than go around. It looked more like there were two different sofas rather than just a single one. The seating arrangement was done in a way that allowed those seated to not only face each other, but the large desk of the man who was obviously in charge of this entire penthouse space. It was so that visitors could find it easier to face Erik than look away from him.
It occurred to Maitho that the intricate design of the tree on the pillars, and the stone statues of Skoll and Hati were all a majestic show for those who were entering the hall.
Once visitors had seen all the splendor of the decor, they would find themselves on the sofas, where their eyes would be on Erik.
Anyone leaving the hall would not find sights of intricate decor waiting for them. It was as though people were welcome to enter, but they could leave without a fond goodbye.
Erik sat on the edge of the desk, his hands on either side of him. He made no comment as the four Guardians in front of him made their way up the short flight of steps.
When they stopped, Erik raised one eyebrow. “Please, don’t wait for permission.”
Epona was the first to move, making her way through the gap in the sofa, plopping down and patting the luxurious material. Brigid sat down on the opposite sofa, with Bevan taking the space next to Epona. Maitho joined the Celtic team’s leader.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
On the round table was a bottle of wine that Maitho knew would be the price of a car. Four wine glasses were arranged around it. Trays of food dotted the landscape around the wine, as though they were scenery around a magnificent landmark.
“I knew you would be hungry. Please, indulge yourselves,” said Erik, waving his hand to show the food.
Maitho could clearly feel his stomach about to rumble. It eventually did, but thankfully not loud enough for anyone to hear. The vibrations seemed to travel through his insides. He forced himself to look up at the man across from him.
Bevan, on the other hand, walked up to the coffee table and grabbed a plate, proceeding to fill it with a few food items. When he sat back down, he had a plate of food in his hands and a glass of wine on the table. He was about to take a bite when he noticed his three teammates looking at him.
The look of guilt that crossed his face seemed to dim the excitement that he had held earlier, before he was about to eat.
“You need energy,” said Maitho. “Help yourself.”
There was genuine gratitude in Bevan’s eyes as he took a bite out of what could only be described as bread art.
Erik, for his part, did not attempt to insist on having the others eat food as well. He simply looked each person in the eye. There was a sense of wisdom on his face. A patience. He seemed to not find any discomfort in long eye contacts and longer pauses. Maitho then remembered that Erik had lived for over a thousand years. The Guardian is bound to have learned a lot about presenting himself and communication during that time.
“Tell me,” said Erik. “What questions need answering?”
“What are you planning with Cray?” said Brigid, instantly jumping on the opportunity to speak.
“Slight rephrasing,” said Erik, his head tilting slightly to one side. “What is he planning with me?”
It was a subtle change of words. But Maitho understood the implications.
And so did Epona. She spoke. “Are ye sayin that ye are the mastermind?”
“Mastermind is such a lonely word. I am but one of the orchestrators.”
“Who are the others?” said Maitho.
“Even with all that I know, that is still a mystery.” Erik drummed his fingers on the table. It wasn’t due to impatience. Rather, it indicated a mind that was constantly working, churning out information that needed to be plucked out of his vast mental database on the fly.
Brgid leaned forward. “Do you know what I think?”
Erik didn’t respond. He looked at her with expectation, like the one a parent shows a child who is excited to show them something.
Brigid continued. “I think you and Cray are creating this God situation. There are no plans. There are no ulterior motives. There is just you, Cray and the Norse pantheon on one side.” Then she turned to Maitho. “And him on the other side.”
Maitho didn’t understand where she was going with this. He looked over at Bevan, who had dropped a half-eaten bread on top of the food tray and had his eyes glued to his leader.
“But at this point, you have created collateral damage,” said Brigid. “My team and our home have been attacked.” She spread her arms. “All of what? Getting this nobody to your side? What is even great about him?”
“Are we really doing this?” said Bevan.
“Tell me something, what exactly has he done that proves useful to fight against the Gods?”
“It isnae aboot bein useful,” said Epona. “He's someone we know.”
“For less than a day,” came the response. Brigid faced Erik. “So stop screwing with us and just tell us already. Or at least leave the three of us out of this.”
“Brigid,” exclaimed Bevan, the surprise in his voice flooding out of his mouth.
“Ye meant tae say the four o us right?” said Epona.
“I want you to reconsider your words,” said Brigid. “In fact, I want you both,” she looked at Epona and Bevan, “to clearly choose, once and for all. If you are part of the team, then do not interrupt me again. But if you would like to defend Maitho, then you can join him with as much joy as you can muster, knowing that your place with our kind is over.”
There was no response to that. Maitho could see that both Epona and Bevan wanted to speak. But he also understood their loyalty. In fact, he admired them for their stance.
“I’m not here to answer your questions,” said Erik. "I'm here to answer his." He looked at Maitho.
“We’ll see about that,” said Brigid, moving her hand to her gun.
Erik didn’t even so much as flinch. He simply engaged in his observation of Brigid, as though she was nothing but a curious sight. “I’ve heard that you faced Raiden.”
“Why does that matter?” said Brigid.
“You four, along with your magical car, didn’t stand a chance against him.”
“We were pulling our punches.”
Erik smiled. “If that’s how you see it, but that wasn’t my point.” He raised his chin, which gave him the appearance of looking down at the four seated Guardians. “You faced off against a fearsome opponent. However, there’s a reason why I am the leader of the Norse pantheon.” He didn’t explain further. He didn’t have to. His message was clear.
He was more powerful than they could comprehend. More powerful than Raiden or anyone else from his pantheon.
Maitho could see the hesitation in Brigid’s eyes.
Erik rubbed his thumb along his fingers and examined them, as though he was trying to clean something off. “But I won’t have to do anything, you see.” He looked up and raised his hand, pointing at something behind them. “I have her, after all.”
Maitho turned around to see a woman standing in the middle of the hallway. In her hand was an axe whose handle was made out of wood and the head was of a darkk metal. She definitely did not look like a Guardian. For one, she seemed to be older, probably in her mid-thirties.
Her eyes held a fury that posed a challenge.
She eventually spoke. And when she did, her voice held a command that reverberated throughout the room. “I am the Valkyrie, Skeggjǫld,” she said. “I ask you, Brigid of the Celtic pantheon, to not reach for your weapon and I ask you this only once.”