Frank glanced at the faces behind him, at Adler. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to complete the tests,” Adler replied, smiling. “And I am going to complete them on schedule, just as I’ve been ordered to do. Rest assured, Doctor, they will all be done with adequate safety measures. But they will, indeed, be done. Then we will finally see what kind of power Leviathan truly possesses.”
Frank felt himself surrendering to the situation. He shook his head dismally, nothing else that he could feel.
“If you wake that thing up it’s going to kill you, Adler,” he said. “It’s going to kill every one of us.”
***
“All ancient civilizations documented encounters between man and leviathans,” Thor said in the patient tone of a scholar.
“Early historians record that leviathans were beasts of unequaled power and rage, supreme on the earth in strength.”
Connor frowned, silent.
“First,” Thor began, “I’ll you what Job, the oldest book in the world, says about Leviathan. Then we will proceed from one text to another, examining the evidence.”
With a smile Connor said, “You sound like a scientist, Thor. You’re talking about this leviathan, or dragon, like it was a real thing.’‘
“It was real.” Thor nodded simply.
Connor held Thor’s ponderous gaze. He tried to sound respectful when he finally spoke. “You’re saying that dragons were real creatures? I mean, like fire-breathing and the whole nine yards?”
“I only repeat what history records,” Thor replied. “But I believe that a dispassionate analysis of history can reveal hidden science.” He sniffed, moving past Connor’s skepticism. “Now, the forty-first chapter of the book of Job, a brilliantly written historical exegesis of science and culture despite servile objections of critics, records that Leviathan ruled both the sea and the land. It says that Leviathan was unequalled on the earth for physical power, and that it was armored with scales the size of shields, each overlapping the other so tightly that air couldn’t pass between them. Job says that Leviathan’s heart was hardened as a lower millstone, its skin utterly impervious to weapons. Arrows and lances had no effect against it, and its strength could shatter iron or bronze like straw. Its eyes glowed like a red dawn, and fire was kindled in its mouth. It could set coals ablaze with a blast of its breath and—”
Connor sat up. “What did you say?”
Anticipating skepticism, Thor nodded curtly. “Yes. It was known to breathe fire,” he added.
A silence passed, Connor seeing in his mind the steel plate melted into shreds beyond the wiring. He thought about confiding it. Decided to wait.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “Go on.”
“Historically,” Thor continued without hesitation, “the largest and most powerful of all the leviathans was the Heraldic Dragon. But the entire species of leviathan was apparently a family of closely related creatures, some more powerful than others. The lesser leviathans were known as wyverns, amphepteres, or guivres. And the prehistoric plesiosaur may have also been incorrectly included in the species, but the plesiosaur was not a true leviathan. It was simply an ocean creature which, by all the evidence, survives to this day. The rest of the leviathans, however, were smaller and weaker images of the Heraldic Dragon. But the Heraldic Dragon was the greatest of all leviathans. It was unchallenged in size and strength and was said to have defeated entire armies in battle.”
“Just how big was this thing?” Connor asked.
“It is unknown. Apparently the size of Heraldic Dragons could vary. Many of the largest dragons were observed in England, India, and North Africa. In the ancient world, Africa was infamous for large leviathans. And during the height of the Roman Empire, when Rome controlled North Africa, there was even a Roman Legion that engaged a leviathan in battle.”
“When?” Connor asked. He had a need for specifics.
Thor didn’t hesitate. “In A.D. 67 the Roman historian Octavus Livy wrote that he personally witnessed a savage and bloody battle between a single leviathan and the Eighth Roman Legion, led by General Scipio Regulus. The battle occurred in what is now Libya and lasted for almost a week. Livy wrote that over three thousand Roman soldiers were killed in the encounter.”
Connor stared a moment. “That’s incredible. The Romans were disciplined fighters.” He paused again. “What started the battle?”
“Livy writes that the leviathan attacked the Legion without warning,” Thor answered. “There was no reason, no provocation. Apparently, Leviathan was a beast of unnatural hostility. That agrees with other historical accounts of its temperament. But once the battle was engaged, it was a battle to the death. Livy recorded that the Legion fought effectively against it, but the leviathan was heavily armored and couldn’t be wounded. Eventually, recognizing a complete defeat of his six thousand men at hand, General Regulus ordered a desperate retreat. The surviving Roman soldiers then built siege engines, like catapults, for hurling heavy stones. Afterwards, they attacked the leviathan again and eventually cornered it in a small canyon, where they crushed it with repeated blows.”
“So leviathans were prone to attack people?” Connor asked, uneasy.
“Apparently, yes,” Thor replied, brooding. He had become more Icelandic as he continued, darker and more somber. “In the eleventh century it was recorded by Byliny, a respected Ukrainian historian, that a leviathan had terrorized the steppes of Western Russia for decades. It was called Gorynych and was supposedly responsible for slaughtering a large number of villagers. It was finally killed after a savage, month-long battle with a legendary Ukrainian hunter named Dobrynja, who hunted the beast down and killed it to avenge his brother’s death.”
“Just one man?” Connor broke in. “A single man killed a leviathan?”
Thor shook his head. “I believe, from the oldest and most accurate description of the beast, that what Dobrynja slew was a wyvern and not the biblical Leviathan or mythical dragon.” A pause. “It was obviously not a creature equal to the size of the leviathan that attacked the Roman Army in North Africa. That leviathan was almost certainly the heraldic dragon, and no single man who ever lived could defeat such a beast in combat.”
A pause to gather his thoughts and Thor went on, “But other battles between foreign armies and the leviathans, or heraldic dragons, are recorded in the historical documents of India, En-gland, France, China, Japan, Mesopotamia, Egypt, and Africa as late as the eighth century. They were recorded by dispassionate historians who had virtually no contact with one another and sought only to leave an accurate record of their times. All of the descriptions of heraldic dragons agree in general, but some commentators noted unusual aspects of the creatures that others did not.”
Connor’s brow hardened, concentrated. “Like what?”
Thoughtful, Thor seemed to search his memory. “In Historia Natural is, written in 1701, it’s recorded that a powerful heraldic dragon was killed on Vatican Hill in 1669 during a savage fight with the entire Army of Rome. It was a bloody engagement because the Romans, no matter how hard pressed, could not very well retreat from their own city and retain their pride. They were forced to stand their ground to the last man. It is recorded that the brutal conflict lasted an entire day and reportedly reduced the standing militia of Rome to a skeletal crew. And upon the creature’s slow and bloody death, it was examined by the Regulaus-Cassium, prefect of the city. Overall, the surviving description, also recorded by numerous scholars, fits the biblical Leviathan or the heraldic dragon. But the leviathan slain on Vatican Hill was also recorded to have had webbed feet.”
“Webbed feet?” Connor asked, frowning. “For swimming?”
“Many leviathans were said to have had webbed feet,” Thor continued dispassionately. “And many were said to have had wings.”
Connor was expecting that. “For flying, I suppose.”
W
ith a nod Thor replied, “In 793 at the monastery of St. Cuthbert, located on the rocky island of Lindisfarne on England’s western coast, over a hundred monks witnessed what they said was a flying leviathan. It had large, dark wings like black leather, and soared low over the monastery throughout the entire sunset. Then it was joined by other flying leviathans. Witness accounts say the sky was eventually filled with them. They said the air was alive with their shadows until the sun was finally gone.”
“I suppose they didn’t kill anybody,” Connor commented drily, taking another sip of coffee. “Sounds like they were cruising for food.”
“I don’t believe the cautious monks gave them a chance.” Thor smiled. “But on the French isle of Saint Marguerite a flying leviathan, apparently similar to the Biblical Leviathan, was said to have killed over three thousand villagers and seamen and even English knights throughout the Middle Ages. During that period of history it was known as the Tarasque. Incorrectly, I think. I believe it was confused with another leviathan that was said to have inhabited the Rhone River in France throughout the thirteenth century. Its name was Drac, and it was infamous for the blood it shed. The French town of Draguignan was named after it. But I think that Drac’s most vicious attacks were launched against the village of Beaucaire. Many, many people were recorded to have been slain there in its repeated attacks. At least a dozen armies went on campaigns against it, desperate to end its reign of terror. If you doubt me, the specific campaigns are recorded by the French and early Germanic historians Ocino, Ragnarold, and Umberto of Guineve. Thousands of soldiers were killed by Drac in the battles, which lasted over a century.’’
Connor found himself waiting. “Well, did they kill it?”
“No.” Thor shook his head. “All the armies were defeated. Eventually, it is speculated, the dragon died of old age. It would have been well over a hundred years old. But long life is characteristic of reptilian creatures. Even today some reptiles are known to live for well over a hundred years. And many leviathans were reported to have lived for centuries.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “Could that be accurate history, Thor?” he asked with careful respect. “I mean, it seems . . . fantastic. ‘
“It is foolish to doubt the integrity of men who were regarded by their peers to be utterly trustworthy,” Thor commented. “People can scoff only so much at accumulated history before they must bow to intelligent debate. Objectivity must have its place. There are far too many incidents of trustworthy persons witnessing similar sights to disbelieve all accounts. It flies in the face of logic and reason to mindlessly classify everything written about Leviathan as myth or superstition or hysterical paranoia. There is a time when we must trust the reliable, well written accounts of those who were recognized to be scholars and wise men of their time and hold those accounts as the best and most accurate window to the past, regardless of our prejudices.”
He chewed a corner of his mustache a moment, adding, “In the Cathedral of Canterbury there is a contemporary chronicle that speaks of a savage fight between two leviathans. It occurred on Friday, September 26, 1449, between the English county borders of Suffolk and Essex and was witnessed by an entire township. It lasted for an hour and stunned witnesses by the ferocity of the conflict. One leviathan was black, the other red. And at the end of the hour-long battle, the black leviathan, badly wounded, retreated into its lair.
“Two of the most respected Englishmen of the fifteenth century, John Steel and Christopher Holder, were present at the scene. Afterwards they gave their unemotional endorsement to verify the account.” He paused. “Steel and Holder were known throughout all of England as strong men of superior intelligence and judgment. In all other areas of history, they are revered as such. It is only in this one account that modern men disbelieve them. And why? Because modern men do not wish to believe that leviathans existed. But Steel and Holder were not prone to lie. They would have had no reason to lie. And history repeats itself in this over and over.
“In 1942 the German U-boat ‘Keichland’ torpedoed a Norwegian trawler near the Scottish coast. Upon the torpedo’s impact, the U-boat crew witnessed what they later recorded as a great sea serpent of unknown species violently breaching the surface of the ocean. It was witnessed by the U-boat captain and commanding officers, all intelligent men who also had absolutely no reason to lie. They said it was not a whale or similar to any other known mammal. It was a beast of tremendous size, possibly over sixty feet in length with a long neck and tail and a long, wedged head.
“And in 1966 two British paratroopers rowing across the Atlantic in a survival test were awakened. John Ridgeway, one of the crewmen, looked out from the boat and clearly saw what he described as a creature of enormous size, like a serpent, poised over them with its head held high above the waves. Then the creature dove deep and was gone.”
Pausing, Thor took another sip of coffee, set the mug down carefully. He focused once more on Connor. “Ridgeway was an experienced soldier, a trained observer. He was held in the highest esteem by his peers, also hard men who only respected other men of superior strength and judgment. He wrote later that he had seen all manner of creature on the trip. Whales, dolphins, flying fish. But he reluctantly had to admit that there was only one explanation for what this thing could have been. A sea serpent. And he was correct. He could only say what he saw with his own eyes. He also had no reason to lie.”
Connor was silent, staring at the red-bearded face. He had listened a long time, and he was amazed at Thor’s command of this branch of history, ancient and modern.
“You seem to know an awful lot about this creature,” Connor said, curiosity coming through. “How come?’’
Thor was still leaning forward. He had not moved. “The Leviathan is one of the great legends of my people,” he replied.
“But this thing isn’t legend. It was real, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. But there is also much legend. And among my people there is a story told often to me when I was a boy.”
“What story?”
“A story told to me by my grandfather,” Thor responded, his eyes focusing distantly. “A story the old man would tell me often, to teach me the meaning of courage and strength.”
Connor said nothing, waiting.
“My grandfather was a good man,” Thor continued, a slow nod. “Though he died when I was only three or four, I remember him well. I remember his heart.” He turned to the window. “He was a strong man, even for my people. Even taller than I am, and heavier. He had never been defeated in cannon throwing at the games until the year of his death. But he was already old when I was a child.”
He hesitated, smiling. “He was young once, I suppose. But I only remember him with his long white hair and white beard flowing like a snow mound from his head. Always strong. Mythic. A giant who reminded me of the heroes of old. He could appear a hard man, and revealed little to the world. But his heart ... his heart was great.”
A silence passed.
“He would come to me often when I was a child,” Thor said softly. “Or I would crawl onto his lap at night as he sat beside the window, gazing out over the gray sea. It was only then, when we were alone in the gray evening, that he would show me his heart. When there was no one else who might mock his secret words.” The gigantic Norseman paused somberly. “Yes. Then he would talk freely, and speak of heroes of old, of love and honor and strength. He would tell me the old stories of our people. Men who fought great battles and won. Men who saw evil as evil and good as good, and who fought for what they believed. It was his dream, he told me late one night when the sun was low, to die as they had died. Doing battle with evil. Giving angry blow for angry blow to finish the fight, overcoming with his last breath.”
Thor looked down, frowning.
“Often enough, he told me the same story,” he continued. “The story of Ragnarok. Dusk of the gods. And I would listen with a child’s wide eyes.”
/> Connor waited. “Ragnarok! The last battle between good and evil?’‘
A nod, and Thor continued, “Yes. It is the story of Asgard and a leviathan named Jormungand who would rise from the sea at the end of time.” He paused. “Jormungand was the Midgard Serpent, the most terrible of all the evil creatures of the deep. It was horrible and strong, and all of Asgard trembled at the sight of it. But there was a single Norse god, the strongest and the one who held the most generous and noble heart, who refused to tremble before it. He was angered that the Serpent dared to threaten the lives of the innocent. So alone he arose from his throne, took up his hammer, and went forth to do battle against it.
“On the great ice field beside the sea, they met. Never before had the world witnessed such a conflict. Long was the battle, and uncertain. It continued for a day and a night.
“Asgard’s strongest defender struck the Midgard Serpent again and again, hard blows that would have shattered mountains. But Jormungand would not die. Instead it coiled around the titan and struck with its killing venom, venom that had burned mountains and valleys alike into dust. Eye to eye and shoulder to shoulder, in thunderous blows they struck, grappling to the last, carrying the grim battle to a grim death. On and on it went, seeming to last forever until both were all but dead in the grip of the other, the strongest heart alone destined to overcome. In the long and terrible end the Norse god staggered to his feet, rising up and raising his hammer high. Then he brought it down once more to deliver a last, thunderous blow, finally crushing the head of the beast. And the Serpent died.”
Connor was captured by Thor’s somber aspect.
“The god staggered back nine steps,” he whispered, “the battle won. But he was also dying, defeated by the Serpent’s venom. His great, heroic strength – strength that many thought had been inexhaustible – was gone forever. It had been the price for his victory. And knowing the fingers of death curling around him, he lifted his hammer high and drove it into a mountain, burying it deep into the earth to leave a testament of his courage. Then, succumbing at last to the Serpent’s poison, the titan fell to the ground and died.”
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