The Book of Doom - By Barry Hutchison Page 0,23
voice cutting through the din like a sledgehammer through warm butter. “We’ve done all those. We should let Umangelo choose.”
“Um...” said Angelo.
“Go on, give us a song, Umangelo. And by Bragi’s balls, make it a good one.”
“Well, I’m not a very good singer,” Angelo said shyly.
“Come on, Umangelo!” another Viking yelled. “You can do it!”
“Let’s hear it!”
More voices went up, demanding that he perform. Soon the hall was a chorus of “Umangelo! Umangelo! Umangelo!” chanted over and over again, as fists banged repeatedly down on the tabletop.
Slowly, shakily, Angelo got to his feet once more. The crowd went wild as he cleared his throat, then the cheering became an expectant hush as all eyes fixed on the boy in white.
Angelo looked across the sea of horned helmets, then he adjusted his glasses, took a deep breath, and in a high, reedy voice, he began to sing.
“He’s got the whole world in His hands; He’s got the whole wide world in His hands; He’s got the whole world in His hands; He’s got the whole world in His hands.”
Along the table, several dozen of the Vikings began to sway back and forth. Odin nodded along in time with Angelo’s warbling.
Encouraged by this, Angelo sang more loudly. He pointed at one of the closest Vikings as he continued:
“He’s got you and me, brother, in His hands; He’s got you and me, sister, in His hands...”
The Viking Angelo had pointed to on the word sister stopped swaying and muttered unhappily to his neighbour.
“He’s got all of us together in His hands; He’s got the whole world in His hands.”
The atmosphere in the room had very subtly begun to change. Only a handful of the Vikings were swaying now, and Odin was no longer nodding along.
But Angelo was just hitting his stride. He drew in a deep breath before launching into the next verse with renewed vigour.
“He’s got the thunder and the lightning in His hands...”
As one, every Viking in the hall gave a gasp of shock.
“He’s got the thunder and the lightning in His hands...”
The tankard Odin was holding crumpled into a metal ball, spraying ale in all directions.
“He’s got the thunder and the lightning in His hands...”
Like a sea monster rising ominously from the deep, Odin stood up. Plates and mugs were blown off the table and scattered across the floor as the Allfather’s voice came like a hurricane.
“That... is... ENOUGH!”
It took Angelo a few seconds to register what Odin had said. He squeaked out a final, “He’s got the whole world in His...” before the words died in his throat. He glanced at the angry faces around him, then he coughed gently and sat down.
“Who is this he you sing of?” Odin demanded. “Who claims to have the thunder and lightning in his hands?”
Angelo’s mouth had gone dry. It clicked strangely when he spoke. “It’s... it’s... God,” he managed to rasp.
Odin placed the knuckles of his clenched fists on the table and leaned forward. “Which god?”
“Um, just... just, you know, God,” Angelo said. “The real one,” he added, and immediately wished he hadn’t.
“WHAT?”
“The Christian one!” Angelo yelped. “That’s what I meant!” He looked around desperately. “Not... I didn’t mean...”
“He said you weren’t real, Allfather,” said one of the Vikings at the table.
“He claims Thor does not rule the thunder!” said another. “And he does. He bloody does, I’ve seen him.”
“He rules it like nobody’s business,” agreed yet another.
Angelo suddenly felt very hot. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, all too aware now of the pressure building inside his bladder. He looked up into the faces of the Vikings on either side of him. Their rotten teeth and pockmarked skin grimaced down.
“Seize him!” barked Odin, and Angelo felt vice-like grips clamping down on his shoulders. Odin flipped up his eyepatch. There was another patch beneath it. The eye drawn on to this one was narrow and angry-looking. His real eye blazed with something between fury and madness. “And let us show him just what a real god can do.”
“So, what’s your decision, mortal?” asked Herya. “Do you want my help, or don’t you?”
Zac considered the offer. Having one partner was bad enough, but having two would make him part of a trio. He’d never been part of a trio before. He had never wanted to be.
“I don’t know if I’d be able to protect you,” he said.
“Ha!” Herya snorted. “Protect me? I don’t need protecting. We Valkyries are born warriors. I can look after myself. Besides, people know me out there. If