Binding Words
Book One:
Morrigan’s Bidding
Daniel Schinhofen
Copyright © 2018 Daniel J. Schinhofen
No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form by an electronic or mechanical means – except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews – without the written permission from the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2018 Daniel J. Schinhofen
All rights reserved.
Chapter One
Rubbing at his face, Sean wondered what he was even doing in this bar. He wasn’t a drinker, and when James had contacted him and suggested meeting up for some 9-ball, Sean had wavered on accepting. Eventually he’d caved to James’ prodding, having no real reason to refuse his best friend.
My only friend, for that matter, Sean complained internally. Not that James is any better. He hasn’t hung out with anyone else, not since her death. Looking around the dingy bar, Sean wondered why James had picked this place. It was one they’d been to before, but only once, because the clientele that hung out here was less than savory.
“You are at my table. Vacate it,” a deep bass voice that rumbled like thunder announced from behind Sean.
Rolling his eyes, Sean turned his head to find the guy that was starting shit with him. His eyes came even with a massive belt buckle in the shape of a thundercloud. Looking up, he saw a bodybuilder with long blonde hair and full beard behind him. “Your name isn’t on it, use one of the others,” Sean snorted and turned back around.
“No one dares to ignore me,” the man rumbled as his hand slammed down on Sean’s shoulder.
Sean stood up, shrugging off the man’s hand. Turning around, he found himself staring at the guy’s pectorals. He looked up to meet the man’s eyes. “Look, asshole, I’m waiting for my friend, and this is currently my table, so fuck off.”
“You would dare challenge me?” A deep, chest rattling laugh came from the blonde giant. “Draw your blade, if you dare.”
“Blade? What are you, an idiot?” Sean snapped as he took a step back, his hand resting on his Colt 1911. “Just fuck off, dude. I’m not going to fight you, but I’m sure as fuck not going to cave to a bullying asshole.”
Lips twisting into a prodigious frown, the bodybuilder leaned forward so his eyes were level with Sean. “You call me asshole? You dare to lump me with my brother? Take back your words, or a fight you shall have whether you will it or no.”
“Your brother? Oh yeah, that guy. He was way nicer than you,” Sean smirked at the guy.
The bodybuilder’s eyes seemed to darken, the color deepening to that of thunderclouds, “You would dare?” With a snarl, the man’s fists clenched. “I will take some of his debt out of you, then, since you claim his friendship.”
Before Sean could react, a fist the size of a ham slammed into his chest and threw him backwards into the wall. Clutching his chest in pain, he blinked, as his attacker was now standing twenty feet away. I was thrown twenty feet by that punch, what the fuck?
The giant closed the distance like an avalanche intent on burying him. Not bothering to get to his feet, Sean drew his sidearm. “Stop! Don’t come any closer, or I will defend myself!”
“Hey! No killing! Take the fight outside,” the bartender yelled.
“Stop!” Sean yelled at the blonde man, who was still advancing and now only ten feet away.
“I will send you to meet my brother’s daughter. Give her my regards,” the giant blonde snarled as he stepped closer.
“Self-defense!” Sean shouted as he flicked the safety off and fired twice into the man’s chest.
The bodybuilder stepped back two paces, looking down where the bullets had impacted and back up, his face splitting into a visage of death incarnate. “Now you die!”
Shocked that the bullets hadn’t killed the man-or even wounded him-Sean emptied the other six rounds in his gun into the man as quickly as he could pull the trigger. Again, the bullets didn’t seem to have any effect. As the slide locked back, Sean looked up at his attacker as a foot came down on his chest.
The pain of his breastbone shattering and the splinters cutting into his lungs and heart was mind numbing. Coughing once, his blood spattered across the boot and leg of the bodybuilder. “What… are… you?” Sean gasped out as he felt his consciousness start to fade.
“What the hell?! I said no fighting!” The bartender’s voice echoed in Sean’s ears as darkness began to claim him.
I shouldn’t have agreed to come, was Sean’s last thought as consciousness fled his body.
Opening his eyes, Sean blinked in surprise. He brought his hand to his chest, but there wasn’t any pain. “A dream?” Sean mumbled as he sat up. He froze as he realized that he wasn’t in his room or still at the bar. He looked around at a place he didn’t recall ever seeing before.
“You have awoken. Good, we can discuss your death and what we may do to remedy that unfortunate incident,” a powerful baritone voice resonated throughout the room.
Jerking to his feet, Sean looked around the room. An older man was sitting at a table, sipping from a drinking horn. Two ravens perched behind him. Mouth opening in shock, Sean shook his head, stunned to see the one-eyed man gesturing at the chair across from him.
“Odin?” Sean said, his shock obvious.
“Ah, good. You have heard of me, that will make this easier. Come, sit. We have things to discuss,” Odin beckoned him to the table.
“Wait a minute... The blonde guy who attacked me…” Sean’s voice trailed off as he made the connection.
“My son, Thor. He has been told not to visit your world, but recently a way has opened again for him since so many of you know of him.” Odin sighed, just like any father would when his child had gone against his wishes.
“Wait-you’re saying Thor came to Earth and killed me in a bar fight?” Sean shook his head, wondering when this dream would fade.
“Unfortunate, but true. Due to his involvement, I was able to intercede and bring you here. I have an offer for you, but please, come and sit so we can talk as friends.”
Slapping himself hard across the face, Sean winced, “Ow. Well, that didn’t work.” He ignored Odin’s raised brow as he crossed the room and took the proffered seat. “Okay, let’s talk.”
“I am glad you have joined me. I am going to offer you a place in Valhalla. Does this interest you?” Odin asked as he sipped at his drink.
“Wait, what? I don’t even believe in you or your son. Shouldn’t I be headed off to some pearly gates for judgement, or something?”
“You may have that, if you wish. You would have gone straight there, but as my son was involved, I was able to exert a little influence and bring you here first. You showed no cowardice and fought to the best of your abilities. You died as a warrior, and have earned a place in Valhalla. It seemed only fitting that I offer you the chance to enjoy eternity drinking, fighting, and wenching.”
Sean couldn’t deny that sounded at least a bit better than lounging around on clouds in the sky or suffering in pits of eternal fire. Lips pursed, he studied the God seated across from him. Something felt off about the situation, and he wanted to buy some time to see if he could figure it out.
“It is an offer far beyond anything I ever expected to get,” Sean replied. “You wished to speak as friends, though, Odin. Don’t friends share drinks?”
Odin’s lips thinned, but he nodded. “Indeed, that is true on many worlds. I should not have forgotten such hospitality.” Snapping his fingers, Odin sat back with an air of waiting. A minute
later, a tall goddess of a woman wearing chain and plate mail came through the door from Sean’s left. Blonde hair flowed down her back in a wave of gold, and atop her head sat a silver cap embossed with wings. “Thank you, Valkyrie. Present the horn to our guest.”
Sean blinked at the heavenly vision that held a drinking horn out to him. “Err… thanks,” he finally stammered.
“It is my pleasure to serve a guest of the Allfather. Is it true that you have done battle with the Thunder God?” The Valkyrie’s voice was honeyed silk, caressing Sean’s spine.
“That is enough, Valkyrie, you may leave,” Odin said sternly.
“As you order, Allfather,” she bowed her head before turning to leave. Just before she walked away, she met Sean’s gaze with piercing blue eyes. “I hope to see you again. May you enjoy the Allfather’s hall.” Not waiting for anything else, she strode from the room like a battle maiden should.
“Good gods,” Sean murmured without realizing it.
“She is but one of the many Valkyries in my hall. Does that help you come to a decision regarding my offer?” Odin asked, his single eye twinkling with humor.
Sean coughed, tearing his eyes from the retreating form of the Valkyrie, absently taking a drink from the horn she’d given him. The honeyed taste of the best crafted mead hit his tongue, sweet but not cloying, and gentle warmth spread through his chest. “That is smooth,” Sean said, impressed with the drink.
“Only the best mead is served in my hall,” Odin beamed. “Now, about my offer. Have you decided?”
Sean took a slow sip, buying a bit more time. “I admit, Allfather, your offer is more than any man of my world could hope for.”
Sitting up straighter, Odin grinned. “That is very true, Sean Aragorn MacDougal. So, do you accept my offer?”
“I wonder why you’re in a rush, Odin. Shouldn’t friends converse with each other at leisure? Yet, since my eyes have opened you’ve tried to get me to accept this deal you offer. Are there other options I need to inquire about? Maybe I should ask someone to counsel me so I make the best choice,” Sean asked, taking another drink. He wasn’t normally a drinker, but this was exactly what he would have expected Ambrosia to taste like.
“You should indeed,” a resonant voice, similar to a clear trumpet, came from the doorway.
Craning his head to see who was speaking, Sean blinked to behold an Angel striding towards the table. White robes only partially covered the armor the being wore, and the sword on its hip, even sheathed, radiated a bright light.
“Michael. I thought we agreed that I would be able to speak with my guest alone first,” Odin said, his face set in a false mask of welcome.
“And you had that chance, Odin Falsefather. This one belongs to my Lord, and he deserves to know that he does indeed have the right to enter the Heavenly Gates if he wishes. He should know his options, beyond what your lying tongue tells him.” Michael’s self-righteousness was as blinding as the radiance from his sword.
“Wait, I have more options?” Sean asked, his mind reeling from the shock of the day’s events.
“Indeed,” another voice added, this one full of dry, dark humor backed by the rustling of scales sliding across flesh. The door was pushed fully open as a well-groomed gentleman with dark hair and a three-piece suit came sauntering into the room. “Your soul doesn’t necessarily belong to either of them. I, too, have some small claim on your immortal being.”
Eyes widening, Sean leaned away from the approaching newcomer as wisps of black smoke rose from the gentleman. The wisps drifted up, shaping themselves into scenes of past sins Sean had committed before dissipating. “Lucifer, huh?”
“Glad to see you know my name.” Lucifer pulled a chair over and sat at the table, where Michael snarled openly at him. “Back down like a good little puppy, Michael. You know we have an Agreement of neutrality while we deal with this aberration.”
“You are not the only ones with an offer for him,” another being said from the door. “In his youth, he worshipped me for a time, which gives me a claim to his immortal being as well.”
Sean’s head whipped back to the door to find the newcomer entering the room. Striding across the room was a tall, striking woman, with bright red hair that seemed to glisten in the light. Her figure could only be described as modest, but she walked with a certain sway that caught the eye and held it. “Can you name me, Sean Aragorn MacDougal?”
“Morrigan, Goddess of Battle, Death, and Fate,” Sean said, his eyes locking with the dark orbs where her eyes should have been. He swallowed hard, feeling the strings of fate binding him under her gaze. “I never thought—”
“I did, and long have I waited for this day, Sean Aragorn MacDougal,” Morrigan said in a warm voice before turning her gaze to the others. “Now that we are all assembled, shall we present the full range of choices available to this mortal?”
“You believe a single month of worship gives you the right to sit with us?” Lucifer asked with disdain. “My claim extends back years, to all of his unrepentant sins, some of which are quite damning. Ah, but let’s do as you suggest. After all, Hell isn’t like this lot,” he hooked a thumb at Michael, “wants everyone to believe.”
“Scum,” Michael snarled, his eyes not wavering from Lucifer, hand twitching toward the hilt of his blade. “The Host shall grind you under heel when the Lord commands.”
Odin snapped, “You are all in my hall. If you cannot conduct yourselves civilly, I will banish you, as is my right.”
Morrigan pulled up a chair to Sean’s right, across from Lucifer. “I am perfectly willing to let my offer be heard.”
Odin’s gaze sharpened as he looked to Morrigan, “Have not your followers been trod under my warrior’s boots for years? Are you sure that you wish to open a new reason for enmity to exist between us again?”
“This is neutral ground for the moment, Odin Allfather,” Morrigan smiled darkly. “I could choose to take those words as a threat, and as such, you yourself would be ejected from these talks.”
Odin snapped his mouth shut and snorted, turning his unhappy gaze back to Sean, “Well mortal, who do you choose?”
“Umm… you offer Valhalla, which is a mighty tempting choice, Allfather,” Sean stammered, before firming up his voice. “God’s Fist has offered me guaranteed entry into Heaven, something that I’ve been told all my life was one of the only two options.” He bowed his head to Michael, then turned his gaze to Lucifer. “Lucifer has only said that Hell is not as it is portrayed by the clergy, but I have not yet heard his offer. Would you care to explain, Dawn Lord?”
Lucifer’s smile sharpened, looking like a shark closing on an unsuspecting fish, “Gladly. Hell has many different sections, and I would let you pick your place in any of the levels of Hell. I know you abhor drug use, so the third level would not be to your liking. Nor are you so enamored of food that the fifth level would suit you for eternity. Perhaps the ninth level would be a choice? I can offer a few that look like her, if that would add extra enticement,” he nodded toward Morrigan with his last statement.
Sean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, Lucifer’s words conjuring images he’d never considered regarding the Goddess of Fate. Morrigan just smiled faintly, a dimple showing on her cheek.
“False copies, with no skills of their own, only what they’ve learned to parrot under torture is what you truly mean, Fallen. Maybe you should let him see the small print in your contracts,” Morrigan’s smile was sharp, like a spear about to pierce a heart.
Shaking his head, Sean coughed to clear his mind of the images Lucifer had conjured. “What’s this about a contract?”
Lucifer frowned, but produced from the air a stack of papers that climbed to the limit of the vaulted fifty-foot ceiling. “This is the contract you would need to sign.”
Looking at the pile, Sean shook his head, “That seems like the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
Smile flattening, Lucifer leaned forward, his voice pitched as if offering a deal t
hat he normally wouldn’t. “Sean-May I call you Sean? Look-you’re in a bad spot here. Odin will let you into the halls of Valhalla, but you’ll only be shunned and ridiculed. You never landed a hit on Thor, because guns don’t count to the Norse. Michael wants to glue a lamp on your head, staple wings to your back and chain you to a cloud where you’ll sing the praises of his Lord for all time. Morrigan shouldn’t even be here, and has almost no power to really offer you anything of note. I’ll waive the paperwork and let you have free run of any level of Hell. I’ll even elevate you to Prince status, giving you the right to command the beings on the level you choose however you see fit. All you would need to do is sign your name to a blank piece of paper. What do you say?”
Shuddering at the sleazy lawyer vibe Lucifer gave off, Sean sat as far back from the Fallen Angel as he could get. “I’ll take it under consideration,” Sean managed, mentally vowing to do no such thing.
“You must choose,” Michael said from behind Sean, the angel’s hand landing on his shoulder.
Shrugging off the Archangel’s hand, Sean got to his feet and spun on the Angel. “Don’t fucking do that. Good gods, you’re all like sharks circling in the water as the boat goes down.”
“All?” Morrigan asked, her hand going to her chest as if hurt. “I have not pushed, nor have I made grandiose promises, and you would lump me with them?”
Sean paused, then shrugged, “Okay, maybe not all. But even you’re trying to claim my soul, aren’t you?”
“Yes and no,” Morrigan smiled. “If you wish to hear my modest proposal, I will tell you, but that is your choice.”
“Why the fuck not? I’ve listened to all of them. What do you offer, Morrigan?” Sean said, waiting for the next grandiose promise.
“The continuation of life, but on a different world,” Morrigan said simply, lapsing back into silence.
“You cannot do that,” Odin roared. “His soul is up for grabs, but his body was splintered by my son.”
“I concur with the Falsefather. His body is gone, you can’t give him his life back,” Michael stated.
Morrigan's Bidding Page 1
