Leviathan(26)

Connor scowled. “Thor, it's hard to agree anymore on what's right or wrong. Everybody has their own opinion on just about everything. So it's obviously hard to agree on heroism.” He paused. “I mean, what's a hero really supposed to be, anyway? Someone who saves somebody's life?”

“It is a simple thing,” Thor rumbled. “A hero is someone who stands upon truth, to the end.”

“Someone who stands on truth” Connor asked, eyes widening. “What does truth have to do with heroism?”

“Truth and heaven are beyond man's changing, Connor. Just as evil and hell are beyond man's changing. To fight for the cause of truth, one must fight for the cause of heaven.”

Connor was silent. But he was used to this; all conversations with Thor eventually went into the deep.

“And I believe more than this,” Thor mumbled, gazing up. “I believe that each man, at his last chance to know truth, faces his own Ragnarok. His own battle with Armageddon. And all of a man's life comes together to meet it. His past, his present, and his future. Whether such a man lives or dies, it will be his greatest hour, the hour when he sees the true measure and light of his life, and knows the destiny of his soul.” Thor's face hardening like age-old Arctic ice. “This is where all our lives will end. When we stare the old serpent in the eyes ... and make our final stand.”

Connor said nothing, staring, and after a moment Thor blinked. His eyes slowly became less intense. “A lofty ambition, is it not?”

“Yeah, partner, it is,” Connor replied quietly, staring sadly. “But it sounds like something you could do. Better than anybody I’ve ever known.”

Thor laughed shortly, glancing down. “And you also, my friend. Because you may believe as you believe, Connor. But I think that it is your destiny also to advance onto that field. To overcome evil with your own good strength, and God's strength.”

Silence lasted between them.

“I don't believe in miracles, Thor,” Connor replied stoically.

Thor laughed. “I do, my friend.”

Moved by Thor's words to cross a line he had never crossed, Connor was compelled to ask, “Were you once a priest?”

“I am still a priest.” Thor nodded, frowning.

“Then what are you doing here?” Connor knew that whatever he might hear could change their relationship forever, and he almost resisted the question. But somehow, spellbound by the moment, he had to know.

Thor leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. “It is a longer story than you would care to hear,” he began. “But I can tell you that I was a priest of a small Norwegian village located near the coast of Sweden. There was much ... evil... in a village so small. And many of my flock were enslaved by it, even against their will. It was an organized evil, and powerful; an evil nurtured by the hand of man but bred by the hounds of hell. As father of my flock, I told my people that they were no longer compelled to serve it. I placed them under the protection of the church and under my personal protection as well.” He became mournful. “In the end it was a fiendish battle, a battle which I narrowly won. And the evil and murderous son of a very powerful man was killed in the struggle. Not by my hand, for certain, but he was killed just the same. And his father blamed me for his death, so powerful men sought my life in revenge. So the Holy Father, in his wish to protect me, removed me from my church and my world until it would be safe for me to return. It was a decision made out of love, and I was told that it was only for a short time. He placed me on this island with only his knowledge of my whereabouts until my enemies no longer sought to kill me.” Thor grew more quiet. “I was grateful for his benevolence. But in removing me from the forefront of the battle, the Holy Father removed me from life, as well. I have been here five years. And I don't know when I will return.”

Connor noticed he hadn't moved as Thor spoke. Shifting, he cleared his throat. “So you're not going to be here forever?”

“Forever?” Thor twisted his head, once more releasing a mysterious frown. “No, my friend. Not forever.”

A sudden knock at the door broke the solemnity. Caught in a vaguely catastrophic mentality by Thor's speech, Connor was on his feet, expecting anything. He opened the door to find his assistant foreman breathing heavily and frosted with crystalline sea spray. The man spoke quickly and then Connor closed the door, coming back to sit at the table. His brow hardened.

“What is it?” Thor rumbled.

“A plane,” Connor said quietly, staring back at the door. “He said a C-130 landed five minutes ago on the airfield with about twenty guys who looked like scientists. He said there were also about forty MPs with them, all dressed in black and loaded up with weapons like a SWAT team or something. He said they went down to the cavern. I think it scared him.”