God of War--The Official Novelization

by J. M. Barlog

  “A statue of what?” Atreus said.

  “It’s that one of Thor, out there flashin’ his sac to the bay.”

  “The statue the serpent ate,” Kratos said.

  “He ate it? He actually ate the statue?” Brok said.

  Atreus voiced the question they were all thinking: “How are we supposed to look inside the snake?”

  They wound their way through the forests of Midgard, back to the giant horn. Approaching it, Kratos lifted Mimir’s head, holding his lips to the horn of Jörmungandr. Atreus covered his ears while Mimir blew a sustained, deep mystical note that echoed across the vast caldera.

  Within a few minutes, the World Serpent rose out of the water, leaning forward to observe his audience. The resulting wave shook the bridge beneath them.

  “Thooooor stuh-tooooo… eeeee-kneeeee smooooo-thooooo thooooor-fah,” Mimir uttered in the snake’s language.

  “Skeeeeel-yaaaaah. Pvooooo-meeeee-thooooor,” came the reply. The great snake leaned back into its resting position.

  “Is the statue lost to us? What did the snake say?” Kratos said, his anxiety rushing to the surface.

  “Well, he thinks it might still be in his stomach. He is open to allowing you to row into his mouth for a look inside.”

  “Eww. Really?” Atreus said.

  “By his expression, he is not wild about the idea either,” Mimir said.

  Kratos grunted while pondering the snake’s offer. Could it be a trick to get him inside, where the snake might consume him? Dare he risk both of them entering the snake’s belly?

  He started toward the boat dock.

  Once they were seated in the boat, Kratos navigated toward the snake’s gaping mouth.

  “Wait! We are actually going to do it? We are going to let that thing swallow us?” Atreus said, his concern written across his brow.

  “Do we have another choice? If so, then tell me,” Kratos said. Atreus was silent.

  “You do not have to come,” Kratos said, though the tone of his voice betrayed the fact that this was a challenge rather than a genuine offer. There was no way he was returning to the dock to allow his son off the boat.

  But he got the answer he had hoped for.

  “What? And miss this?” said Atreus.

  The massive beast leaned down as they neared, settling its head on the surface while fully opening its huge gullet. Massive fangs framed the mouth, its constricted throat visible in the distance.

  “Hurry, row faster!” Mimir blurted out.

  “Why?” Atreus asked.

  “There, in the sky! Huginn and Muninn. We must get us inside before they spot us.”

  Kratos ripped the oars through the water with all the strength he could deliver, while Atreus scanned the horizon.

  “I see ’em,” the lad called out.

  “Pray we make it before—” Mimir said, just as the shadow of the serpent’s mouth swallowed them up. Darkness consumed them.

  “You are certain about this?” Atreus asked, gazing about. He stared up at the curled fangs.

  “No,” Kratos responded.

  Flowing deeper into the serpent’s body, Atreus peered into the total darkness looming beyond the throat. He had no idea what to expect, how they would navigate once inside, and how they intended to get safely out. Yet he still never thought about dying. Somehow, he knew his father would come up with solutions for whatever challenged them along the way. Perhaps that was what being a god was all about: being able to overcome any obstacle they encountered, human or otherwise. The very thought inspired him. Could he possibly become as invincible as his father appeared to be?

  Kratos rowed undaunted into the abyss, progressing into the roar of rushing water, followed by a splash that shuddered the small craft. Then all fell silent. But only for a moment, as the fugue of the snake’s digestion took over.

  Activating his Bifröst crystal and extending it to arm’s length, Kratos illuminated the snake’s cavernous stomach. They could see the gullet surrounding them, half-filled with bubbling, steaming gastrointestinal juices. Objects defying digestion bobbed along like so much flotsam: half-eaten boats, wine barrels, and boat chains.

  “You see the statue anywhere?” Atreus asked.

  Kratos only grunted a negative response.

  “What?” Atreus asked, when he saw his father’s look.

  Kratos steered the craft around wine barrels and sinewy strings of kelp that stretched on into the distance, clinging to a graveyard of boats.

  “I think I see something,” Atreus called.

  Kratos slapped his oar hard right to steer starboard.

  “There!” Atreus said.

  Rounding a bend, they spied Thor’s statue listing half-submerged, the face concealed. Kratos rowed to the nearest side, toward the helmet.

  “Mimir… any idea where Odin might have hidden your eye?” the lad said.

  “No. It is not like I can still see through it,” Mimir shot back.

  “The hammer,” Kratos said.

  Kratos leapt from the boat, grabbing onto the side of the statue. Stabilizing himself, he climbed to reach the hammer, where he noticed a glow inside of it. He banged it with his axe handle.

  “There is something inside,” Kratos called back.

  When he removed an outer plate, by hacking it repeatedly with his axe, a chest slid out.

  Fishing around inside it, Kratos located, then extracted, Mimir’s eye, holding it up in triumph.

  “Gently now, gently…” Mimir said. If he still had his heart, it would have been racing at that moment.

  Kratos carefully lifted Mimir off his hip, bringing him eye-to-eye. “Maybe it’s best you should stick that into my head for safekeeping,” Mimir said.

  When Kratos pushed the eye into Mimir’s empty socket, it immediately began looking around. “Thank you, brother. You don’t miss depth until it’s gone.”

  Kratos lowered himself back to the boat.

  “So, now how do we get out?” Atreus asked.

  “We signal the snake,” Kratos said.

  “Okay. How?”

  “Row back to its mouth and we force the boat into the narrow opening. When the World Serpent senses we are there, he will open up for us,” Mimir said.

  “Perfect,” Atreus said.

  “We now have all we need,” Kratos said.

  “How’s it feel, Mimir?” Atreus asked.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m feeling whole again, but it’s a right improvement.”

  “The Bifröst is intact?” Kratos asked.

  “It’ll serve.”

  “Finally, we’re going to Jötunheim. There’s no stopping us now,” Atreus said.

  “Laddie, have you ever heard the term ‘tempting fate’?”

  “Fate is another lie told by the gods,” Atreus responded.

  “Told by the gods, yes, of course. You really are your father’s son, you know.”

  A low rumble erupted as the caustic stomach acid churned and bubbled.

  “Hold on tight!” Kratos shouted, just before the slimy green liquid began sloshing into the boat.

  The gurgling rose into a deafening roar. A wave of acidic liquid crashed down on the small craft, dousing Kratos and Mimir’s head first, then plastering Atreus, before plunging them into darkness. Despite their burning skin, they clung to the sides to remain inside the boat, while they traversed the snake’s insides to reach the throat in utter darkness.

  “What is happening?” Atreus cried out in terror. “Are you there?”

  “Yes! Hold on, son!”

  The roaring water escalated to a fever pitch. Then it receded into the calm of rippling water as they drifted, still engulfed by the darkness.

  “Are you still there?” the lad asked.

  “I am.”

  “I am too, if anyone is wondering,” Mimir added.

  “My fingers are numb from holding the rope so tight,” Atreus said.

  BOOM!

  The sudden thunderous sound reverberated
around them, echoing through the snake’s entire body.

  “Uh, what was—?” Atreus began.

  Fumbling about the boat’s deck, Atreus located Mimir’s head to lift it. Mimir used his eyes to illuminate the passing fleshy walls as they continued their slow drift within the snake’s throat.

  BOOM!

  Another shock wave rippled across the snake’s flesh, as if something had struck the animal from outside.

  “What is that? Is he getting hit?” Atreus asked.

  They floated into a larger chamber: the snake’s closed mouth. Peering toward a narrow slice of white light, they spied the fangs awaiting them at the exit.

  BOOM! BOOM!

  “Something bad is happening out there!” Mimir shouted.

  “How do we avoid it?” Atreus asked.

  They listened. A bombardment was taking place outside the snake. The shuddering impact rocked the boat, causing Atreus to drop Mimir’s head, plunging them back into darkness.

  Then a blinding light erupted. The snake was opening its mouth to speak. “Maaaaaaaaaah-dooooooooooh-tooooooooooh.”

  The expelled air buffeted the vessel, slamming it into the snake’s cheek. “What’s he saying?” Atreus shouted to Mimir over the rush.

  “Impossible!” Mimir said.

  “What is impossible?” Kratos said.

  “No, he’s saying ‘impossible’,” Mimir said.

  “Why?”

  “How could I possibly know?”

  Peering out the gaping mouth, they stared at the ground below from a dizzying height. The snake arched its head back suddenly, skewing their world topsy-turvy, after which it emitted a sick retch, ejecting them from its mouth. As they fell, debris from the boat tumbled beside them as frozen terrain rushed up. Kratos realized just how far away they were being deposited.

  They crashed hard into the ice. Kratos shook off the dizziness before scanning to get his bearings. He drew his feet under him just in time to see the World Serpent’s massive head drop toward a large bluff.

  “Atreus?” Kratos called out in panic.

  The lad emerged from a pile of debris, ejecting a mouthful of water. “Pffah! I’m good. I’m getting kind of used to this,” he retorted.

  He peered up at the towering serpent, which appeared to be losing consciousness. “What happened to him? Something we did?”

  “No. Something else,” Kratos said, scanning for any signs of a threat. Atreus spun about. They were perched near the stonemason’s corpse. “The dead giant… Why did the World Serpent leave us here?” he asked.

  A shadow forced Kratos’ look skyward. Overhead, a lone peregrine falcon swirled, almost as large as Kratos himself, with burning red eyes. Kratos jerked his son’s arm to rotate him, in time to witness the bird settling on the ground and transforming into Freya.

  “Freya? Keep your distance,” Kratos commanded.

  “Why?” Atreus asked.

  Before Kratos could answer, Freya advanced on them, gesturing toward the unconscious snake.

  “The World Serpent has fallen. What has happened here?” she asked.

  “It was not us,” Atreus replied.

  “You are far from home,” Kratos said.

  “I seek my son. The two of you…” Frey paused. “Seeing you together… helped me to see things more clearly.”

  “You do not know where he is, then?” Kratos said.

  “No. But the woods and fields speak his name. I know he walks in Midgard.” Freya directed her attention to the snake. “We should tend to the serpent.”

  “When did you last see your son?” Kratos said, unable to quiet the suspicion permeating his every thought.

  Sensing his distrust, Freya stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Long ago. Before your boy was even born. Why do you maintain your distance?” she questioned. Kratos turned suddenly. Atreus drew his bow, targeting what had diverted their attention from Freya.

  Baldur clawed his way out from beneath the World Serpent, straightened out his rumpled clothes, then strode casually toward them as if nothing unusual had happened.

  “Oh, you are going to pay. You have no idea what you cost me—what you cost the Allfather. No more games,” Baldur sneered, staring menacingly at Kratos. As he accelerated his stride toward them, Freya emerged from behind Kratos. She advanced a few paces toward her son. Her expression changed instantly, she became overrun with tears.

  “My son,” Freya said, weeping with joy.

  Baldur paused in his tracks to gaze at her, but absent was the loving face and joyous heart, rather his body language projected confusion and contempt.

  “Mother?” he said, his voice riddled with disdain. There was accusation in his cold stare.

  “I am here. Please, do not run away,” she pleaded, as if addressing a child younger than Atreus.

  “I am going nowhere, Mother,” Baldur spat back.

  Atreus advanced a stride toward Baldur, his concern for Freya written across his face. But Kratos signaled him back. Recognizing the drama about to unfold, the God of War edged himself into a defensive position between them and his son. Atreus was too callow, too naïve to fathom what might result from this reunion.

  “I know you are angry. I know your feelings toward me have not changed, but—” she whimpered.

  “How I feel? You know how I feel?” Baldur said, as if trying to spit on her with his words. His face fell into an expression of insane rage. Helheim had destroyed all reasoning left in his mind.

  “How I feel?” Baldur’s voice suddenly turned casual, almost disinterested. It was as if another being had taken control of his body. “I have spent the last hundred years dreaming of this moment. I have rehearsed everything I would say to you, every word, to make you understand exactly what you stole from me. But now I realize I do not need you to understand. I do not need you at all.”

  Baldur advanced three bloodthirsty steps toward Freya.

  Kratos lurched forward, inserting himself between them, though he failed to understand at that instant exactly why. He cared little for either of them. His focus needed to remain on fulfilling his wife’s last request. He knew what might come of his action, and yet he chose it instead of his real purpose. He did it not for himself—he would rather allow these two to kill each other, for all he cared. He did what he did for Atreus, whose concern for the goddess had become apparent, and infectious.

  Freya pressed a hand to the God of War’s shoulder, as if to persuade him to stand aside. “Back off, Kratos. This has nothing to do with you,” she said. Her stare clearly remained on her son.

  Ignoring her words, Kratos advanced on Baldur until the two men stood nose-to-nose. The God of War never backed down from a fight, though at that moment, he had no idea how he might defeat someone who could not be killed. This vile creature of hate had to have a weakness. He just needed to uncover it.

  “This path you walk… vengeance. It will bring you no peace. That I know,” Kratos said.

  “I will deal with you in my own good time. But family first. I mean, you understand… You being such a model parent and all,” Baldur chided. His stare never wavered from Kratos. He shoved with both hands, attempting to cast the God of War aside. But Kratos remained steadfast, shoving Baldur back with a force far greater than the man had exerted upon him.

  “You do not understand. If you did, you would stand aside,” said Baldur.

  “And you would yield to the woman who gave birth to you.”

  “Ha! Are you one to speak of the honor afforded those who spawn us?”

  “Then make me understand.”

  Atreus drifted from his father closer to Freya’s side. His hands were balled into fists, ready to respond if Baldur launched an attack on his mother.

  “Look, I have tried killing myself a hundred and twenty-nine times. I have tried hard. It cannot be done. So… exactly how do you see this ending?”

  Baldur launched a battering attack upon the God of War, punching his face as hard and as rapidly as he could.
Kratos endured the barrage while retreating to fortify his footing, which enabled him to launch an effective counterattack. Baldur, however, proved relentless, flailing wildly while still trying to reach his mother.

  “My misery can never end as long as she breathes. Do you not understand that?” Baldur screamed.

  Kratos delivered punch after punch, holding Baldur at bay but unable to force him to abandon his fight.

  Atreus jammed his body in front of Freya, hoping to provide that last line of defense should Baldur find a way past his father. He quickly fired arrow after arrow, hoping one might find a way to slow the crazed man down.

  “You will not harm her,” Kratos shouted.

  “Why do you care? Get out of my way!”

  Freya restrained herself no longer. When Atreus twisted to improve his shot, she slid past him to wedge her body between the two fighting men, forcing both to yield or strike her in error.

  “This is not your fight! I can reach him!” Freya spat at Kratos, who lunged to jam his body between her and her son.

  “There is nothing to reach! He will kill you, woman! Do you not understand that?” Kratos urged. “Then he kills me! Stay out of it!”

  “No!” Atreus screamed, which caused Freya to lower her guard when she glanced back. She read agony and suffering pouring out from his innocent face.

  Throwing all his weight into Kratos, Baldur pitched him aside, lunging over his shoulder to seize his mother’s cape, and in turn, forcing Atreus to abandon his arrows, fearing an errant shot might strike Freya by mistake.

  “I did everything for you! If you were a parent, you would see that,” she cried.

  “But I will never be, will I? You saw to that,” he fired back with venomous words.

  “That was never my intent.”

  “That’s right. Nothing is ever your fault!” Baldur shrieked, his rage now unfettered.

  Without any forewarning, magical roots erupted through the icy ground, seeking to ensnare the two warring gods. Kratos became the first prisoner, wrapped chest-high; but this time Baldur had anticipated his mother’s magic. He dove, successfully evading the roots, while snatching up a small ice rock to hurl at her. The projectile ricocheted off her head with a sickening thud. She dropped unconscious to the ground.