Grunting with the effort, Thor lifted Heimdallr onto his muscular shoulders and began the slow hobble to his chariot as his father stumbled behind, using Gungir to support his battered body. Thor still couldn't understand what had happened to his friend or his father, questions would have to wait until the healer of Asgard, Eir, had seen to both of them. Nevertheless, the questions buzzed around Thor's head. What was the Archangel, a general of their sworn enemy, doing within Asgard? What had he done to his father and friend? What was wrong with Heimdallr? As he reached his chariot, Thor was forced to rely on the first few Vallhallan warriors to reach the gates to lift the unconscious gate keeper onto the chariot, requiring an additional three men just to get him off his shoulders. "Heimdallr my friend," groaned Thor, letting out a sigh as he was securely on, "you need to get out more".
Turning to his father, sweat pouring down his chiseled face and causing his red hair and beard to glisten with beads, he could not help but feel irritated as the old man refused to meet his gaze. He had sounded the alarm and flown out the moment he realised his father was in danger, the Archangel fled at his approach and this was how he was repaid? As Odin stepped up into the chariot, he felt a strong arm grasp the back of his cloak and turned to see his son frowning deeply and looking concerned. Yet when he spoke, it was slow and emotionless. "Father, I feel I must know, I have a right to know, what were you doing with the false God's lackey? What was he doing in our realm?"
Looking down at his son, first at his face, and then at his hand still grasping his cloak, Odin contemplated the answer. True, Thor had a right to know, especially as his heir, but now was not the time, nor the place. Asgard had been breached, it's sentinel was crippled and its armies unprepared for war. The other gods must be summoned and brought to heel. Coldly, Odin tugged at his cloak and gave his reply of "In good time my son", before settling down in the chariot, not giving his son another glance. Dissatisfied with the answer, but knowing that his father was the most stubborn God of them all, with the exception of Frigga, trying to get an answer now was pointless. Knowing the chariot (and the two rams who pulled it) could not possibly support the weight of the three gods, he instead adjusted the reins and slapped the rump of one of the rams to get it moving. Bleating in fury, the rams pulled away into a gallop, gathering pace and pulling up into the air, the chariot set off towards Asgard, with Odin still hunched over in a brooding position in the back, next to a still unconscious Heimdallr. Turning back to the now shut gate, Thor addressed the growing number of viking warriors streaming from Valhalla with a bellow, disappointed that the archangel had fled before they could bury their axes in his smug face.
"Warriors of Valhalla! You answered my call to defend my father, and for that I owe you a debt, but for now, the safety of Asgard itself is under threat! The false god dared to send his weakling to face my father, but now that coward had fled, he may return with a host of angels while we ready our defences! You!" He called, raising his hammer to mark out a warband of vikings,numbering about three hundred heroes who perished together as brothers and who now shared their afterlife, "remain here to defend the sacred gates in place of Heimdallr! Kill any who approach you beyond those gates and send word when attacked. Make no mistake, war is upon us!"
A chorus of "yes my lord" greeted this announcement from the warband, and a few grumbles of discontent from the other few hundred thousand warriors who were itching for a fight. As the horde began to move, Thor stood listening to the sound of the army marching back across Bifrost to the sacred city and felt the seeds of uncertainty being planted in his stomach. The power of Asgard was formidable, but could it stand against the relentless tide of Heaven? The gods had never been united in the millions of years of their existence and now they were expected to stand beside a withered old man, caught speaking to their mortal enemy's lackey and injuring their steadfast sentinel in the process? The Prince of Asgard shook his head and blinked many times. This was war! This was what he lived for, regardless of the odds. He had faced down worse, and yet, he could not help but think...
Striding over to where Mjolnir lay, he gripped its handle and lifted it with all the nonchalance of a mortal picking up a knife, in a single movement that came with millennia of never letting the hammer out of his sight, well, except for that one time. Continuing his noble march, he approached the sealed gates and stared outwards at Midgard. As his warriors assumed defensive positions around the gate, Thor could only watch the blue and green orb in its calm orbit. Too soon, it would be a battlefield, and if the gods didn't do anything soon, then their followers would be slaughtered like helpless cattle.
Raising Mjolnir aloft with defiance, Thor summoned dark, ominous stormclouds over him, turning the previously calm skies over Asgard into a brooding mass of black and grey, darkening the entire realm. The warriors behind him watched, holding their breath for the awesome display of power. Thor dipped his hammer and rose it upwards in a punch, his face snarling with rage as lightening struck his hammer and a thunderclap echoed from his position. Dipping it again, he did the same, the lightening strike more violent, the thunderclap louder and his face twisting to show a more primal fury. The third time, he roared in anger as lightening pulsated through him and thunder exploded from his position, enough, he hoped, to be heard across the nine realms and even through the vast and distant Kingdom of Heaven. Thor knew the false God had spies everywhere, including outside the gates of Asgard. While he could not see them, the display of raw power and fury was for them. The message was clear. Asgard was not broken. It stood defiant and the old gods would stand as the drums of war pounded again.
Turning from the gate, Thor marched purposefully away, not meeting the glance of a single warrior as he pondered the next course of action. While they stood in silence, the thunder god couldn't help but notice that underneath their helmets and behind their shields, they grinned at the display. The hunger for battle was still there.
Odin pondered deeply as he soared through the air, wind ripping at his face and cloak and occasionally glancing at the still unconscious Heimdallr, shaking his head as he did so. The verses of the Old Testament had spread across his body and glowed a deep Crimson, throbbing and glowing ever brighter. Spittle leaked out of the side of his mouth as his jaw lay open and slack and more than once Odin felt a heat radiating from him whenever the wind died down. A fever? No, impossible. Heimdallr was stronger than any poison or sickness, but such a thought remained with Odin as he could not help staring at the helpless guard. Whatever Gabriel had done to him, it had ripped straight through Heimdallr and Odin couldn't help but think it was his fault.
"Fault!" Cawed his ravens, as they flew alongside the chariot. Odin blinked in surprise. The ravens hadn't spoken in centuries, having no knowledge to bring him but now this?
"Fault! Fault! Fault!" They cawed again, each time that word pierced into him, though he could not deny it was true. Shaking his head again, he stooped over and ignored them, though a crippling sense of guilt had taken root in him.
As the chariot approached Asgard, Odin wasn't surprised to find that the valkyries had taken flight and were flying alongside the chariot. Their winged horses circling around in a protective manoeuvre, it would have usually warmed Odin's heart, but this time he was in no mood for a display of any sort so he ignored it completely. It was true that they were doing their duty, but so had Heimdallr, and he now lay comatose at Odin's feet and that was all he could focus on. That, and his next course of action.