“Most excellent tidings, dearest Nod,” Skillotz replied. “But it seems there is not enough of this material to create a single armour, let alone enough for all of us. I have been on the site where you have fallen. I remember now of these rocks. This I can tell you, there are not enough of them for the purpose you have mentioned. Why would you introduce us to this material, if we are so poor of it?”
“Well you speak, my lord. Thy judgments are truly unequaled!” Skillotz glanced at his father, who seemed to swallow all the words he had uttered throughout the years. “Indeed, thou canst not count on this iron alone, which I have brought from on high. However, iron doth not exist only on high, but is a part of every star, including this one upon which we dwell. There is iron beneath thy feet, under Thebel’s telluric mantle.”
“If it be so,” said Talizima, “would not Mizar, the chthonic sylph, have already unraveled such treasure to us? For Mizar inhabits the underground depths, and dwells inside Thebel’s womb. He it was who introduced us to all kinds of stone, so we could mason it. And copper and tin as well, so we could make bronze out of them. Gold and silver also, so we could adorn our temples with it.”
“All I have revealed to you is arcane, hidden inside Aigonz’s most secret thoughts. Mizar was instructed to reveal to you only what ye now know, but there are many more gems hoarded inside his coffers. And why dost thou think ye have been withheld from the knowledge of iron, if not to be defenseless against the ophalin yet to come? Yea, verily, for if ye had iron in your possession, then the ophalin’s victory would be threatened. But now I shall tell you how to extract this ore from the earth’s bowels.”
“Tell us how to proceed, oh star, and we shall do so!” This was the third clamour heard at Enoch that day.
“Fetch me Malvizio, and I will make him my disciple in the art of ironcraft. I bless you with the following gift: that the enochin will forevermore be masters in the art of mining, and forging, and smithing, and wielding! May this be a perpetual endowment for the southern giants, from generation to generation, until the end of this age! So let it be done!”
Having heard the calling, Malvizio moved to Nod and the gift of iron. For long moments, he stood inspecting this new, strange metal, as if he had fallen under a spell. Awakening from his trance, the elder proclaimed:
“People of Enoch, gladly will I master the art of ironcraft, so that this metal shall be under your command, defending your shoulders and arming your hands! I will move my quarters here, from Bar-Iared to Bar-Kain. Here will I drink from the wisdom of the star! While I make myself the sylphid’s disciple, make yourselves soldiers, and get proficient in the art of war. With your strength and my knowledge, we shall be victorious!”
An abrupt realization then shivered down Talizima’s spine:
“It is true… iron is not enough. We need soldiers, for iron shall not wield itself. But how can it be so, when we have been at peace for so long?” The councilor felt his heart frostbitten, overwhelmed, for he looked around and did not see amongst Enoch a force capable of toppling Ophir.
Skillotz saw his father waver, and felt a deep revulsion for his weakness. He came forth from the crowd and made his voice heard:
“What be these words, father? Have you forgotten the history of our people? We are sentinels! We are the front line against the monsters, if they ever come! For this have we been stationed here, in these here wastelands, whilst the northerners bathe themselves with the milk of complacency, and taste the honey of idleness. We have slain saber-tooth tigers; mammoths we have hunted to survive! These harsh lands kept our limbs sturdy! Centuries of peace decayed our experience, but not our strength! We are untrained, yet not weak! What we have lost, we can easily reclaim! As for me, I do not fear! I will learn how to wield a sword in my hand, and how to fight with an armour on my shoulders! If you do not feel up for this task, then let me be the one to train the enochin soldiers! All I need is your blessing!”
Enoch cheered, for the village felt the strength of Skillotz’s words coursing through their veins. As for Malvizio, he did not lift his gaze from the iron, since the metal shone in his eyes. So the priest spake, as if a genie inside the iron had inspired his words:
“Nothing more is needed than a single giant to inspire other giants, so that they do what they already yearn to do! Name one of them leader, and let the others follow in his steps! Let them drink of his brave words in moments of doubt! Let them keep their hearts ablaze by the sight of him marching before them. Nothing else is required…”
For a few moments, Talizima scratched his relieved, yet tense beard. But seeing how the enochin continued to cheer for Skillotz, he relented. Truly, for the first time in years, his heart felt a glimpse of pride for his son. Maybe he could undertake this task. Who knew? This could be his first step towards becoming a worthy successor, as councilor of Enoch!
“Let it be done as you said, my beloved son. Go, and have power over soldiers and weapons. Henceforth, you shall be the head of my armies. As head, you shall be named ‘Captain.’”
***
In the following days, Enoch sent an expedition south. Beyond the boundaries with the Forbidden Lands, they were sent. Guided by Skillotz and Nod, they came to the site of the sylphid’s fall. There, they gathered all the iron they could find, as it lay scattered through the crater. As predicted, it was not much. This celestial iron was enough only to forge a handful of weapons. Yet these weapons would be of great renown, even if history remembers only three: the sword named Lauz-Ispariz, the Rubizioliz axe, and also Pangizo, the mace.
Lauz-Ispariz’s blade was so perfect, some said it was comparable to Ziv-Ispariz, Aigonz’s very sword. Along her cold metal ran mysterious inscriptions, secret runes which Malvizio had learned from his occult scrolls and from Nod’s teaching. According to the elder, these runes conferred gifts of immortality, invulnerability, and invincibility to whomever wielded it, so that no shield or armour could deter the sword’s blows.
As for the axe, it was said it could cut a mountain in half. He was also adorned with powerful runes, but Rubizioliz feared Lauz-Ispariz, because her magic was greater. So, the axe served the sword with fear, for no other weapon in the world could conquer him.
As for Pangizo, it was the last to be forged amongst the legendary weapons. There was hardly any celestial iron left when it was made. It was completed only by taking recourse to earthly iron. The ball and the flail’s chain was made of native iron, whilst only the spikes crowning the ball were made of Nod’s iron. This was still enough to penetrate even the hardest of armours, and inflicting such agonizing wounds it was said to be poisoned.
Malvizio, who had forged these weapons, was so proud of his works, he offered them to Talizima, the councilor. But Skillotz coveted Lauz-Ispariz and Rubizioliz, and his father did not deny him.
Chapter
8
The League of Nephil
In the following days, Talizima invited Garazin, Virzunz, and Perezim, councilors of the south, for a feast. There did they forge an alliance, for the noise of the banquet muffled their words. Talizima revealed to them the secrets of iron; in return, they all agreed to sign a pact of mutual defense. All would provide for the protection of all. In case of an attack, they would unite as one. Not one of their citizens would shirk his duties. And through harsh training, all would be ready for the day of war, when it dawned.
They called themselves the Nephilin—or the Titans of old, as they are called today. But the League of Nephil was not completed yet. The number of the nephilin would swell in the following days, since many other giants—from north and south alike—would ask to join them, saying: “If our judges do not protect us from the threat, let us go to those who have judged better than our judges.” These deserters came to Tubal-Kain, and Iubal, and Iabal as well, but Enoch they sought above all. And as Enoch was not able to lodge them all—for they were many—they set camp at the outskirts of Bar-Kain. As captain of Enoch, it befell on Skillotz to lead and train them.
> But in the following days, Skillotz’s sleep was troubled by a terrible thought, whispering in his nightmares: “‘Tis not good to expose thy flesh too much, or thou shalt surely be mortally wounded. And who shall lead the armies in thy stead?” So he thought, even as his right hand clutched the grip of Lauz-Ispariz, the Invincible. When he awoke, he felt a sudden weakness on his knees; a weakness on his resolve as well. And he rued the day he asked his father for this task.
When morning dawned, he mustered all of Enoch’s strength, to conscript them into the army. All should attend: both the native born and the ones who had come from other places—the Bar-Kain underhill, and the Bar-Iared overhill.
Yet, when they knew of this, the giants of the top of the Hill gathered together and went to Talizima, the councilor. He received them at his home, and they spake thus:
“We, the Bar-Iared, wish to defend our lands and our lives. But our people are weak. We are less suited to hand-to-hand combat than the robust Bar-Kain! We will be the first to fall in the upcoming war.”
Talizima listened, and allayed their fears with words of comfort:
“I hear you, oh shepherds of gryphons, Enoch Bar-Iared! I pray you: Quiet your blood! There are other ways to defend the homeland than hand-to-hand combat. Other tasks shall be assigned to you.”
As they were at Talizima’s abode, Skillotz was also there, and heard everything. And he was most displeased with the Bar-Iared, since they had questioned his orders, and appealed to his father to reverse his decision. Yea, Talizima the councilor had spoken, and Skillotz would not go against his father’s judgments. But from that point onward, Skillotz brewed a bitter bile against the giants overhill.
***
On the day of the conscription, only the Bar-Kain attended, and also the deserters from other towns. Skillotz shepherded the giants towards a plain to the south, where they arrived early morn the next day. This grassland lay by the shade of a dark forest to the west, yet was still bathed in enough sunlight to sweat the giants’ backs as the morn turned to noon. To the north, it bordered the fields leading up to Enoch. And though the meadow was of tall grass, sending up its shoots towards the skies and the giants’ knees, patches of lifeless dirt here and there heralded the barrenness of the Forbidden Lands, away to the south. Here did Skillotz order his army to stand. Walking in front of them, he shone the Rubizioliz’s blade above their heads and before their eyes:
“I see you, people of Enoch Bar-Kain! I pray you: Excite your blood! I am Skillotz, your captain, and have been entrusted with the task of preparing you for the upcoming war against the treacherous ophalin! I shall indeed lead you, and train you, but I shall not be your captain for long. For it is only fair that the strongest amongst you should be the one to bear this most honourable title! But who is the strongest amongst you? Let me put you to the test! You shall now fight amongst yourselves, and measure your strength against the strength of all the others! The last logizkal standing will receive this here axe as his prize! The Rubizioliz, the mightiest of axes, shall be the victor’s! And the winner shall be captain of our forces! He shall lead our charges against our enemies, since Rubizioliz will protect him from his foes!”
These words were like a blade cutting the army in twain: There were those who were enticed by the axe’s burning glow, and those who feared the heat of the fight. Some had their hearts filled with desire, and others their entrails filled with dread. And this division provoked a murmur amongst the ranks, a murmur which flew to Skillotz’s ears. He therefore added:
“Of course, I do not wish death upon any of you. You are all valuable soldiers, and should only expose your lives on the battlefield! Otherwise who would wage war against our foes? No clubs or other weaponry will you wield. You shall brawl, but not kill. Yet, as I do not wish death upon you, also do I not wish weakness. If you seek not this prize, then step aside before the tournament begins.”
Two out of every three giants stood aside. Skillotz did so as well, since—so he said—he was to be the arbiter of the contest. Most of them sheltered by the cool shade of the forest’s canopies, for the noon’s heat seemed to grow feverish—the flames of combat and covetousness had been stoked. When the warriors were ready, Skillotz brandished the Rubizioliz and, with a dry thud, thrust it into the soil.
At that signal, the mighty warriors lunged against each other, and the earth trembled as their sturdy bones crashed. Bereft of their clubs, they used their mighty fists to unleash powerful blows against their brethren’s flesh, heretofore innocent of any violence against their own kind. And they strove to grab their brothers: Scratching their skins as their nails gripped them, they toppled their brethren to the ground, and tread their foot on their chests so they could not rise again.
The tournament lasted the whole day. By the end, the tall grass had been mostly crushed at the feet of the warriors or uprooted during the heat of the battle. Never until then, since the end of the monsters’ ravages, did Mamreh’s handiwork witness so much devastation. Most of the combatants had fallen as soon as the tournament began, but the strongest amongst them did not succumb against the first blows, nor against the weariness of the passing hours. Truly, there were times when no victor seemed to rise above all others, and a draw seemed to be the most likely outcome.
But at last Nod’s magic carried one of them towards victory. It was Moruzio, the woodsman, whom the sylphid had blessed thus: “that thy strength shall not be matched by any mortal creature standing before thee.” In the end, the last of his adversaries fell to the dust at Moruzio’s feet, and conceded defeat.
Thus, Moruzio, champion of the enochin, went up to the Rubizioliz, wrapped the fingers of his strong hands around the handle and, tensing all his muscles, pulled the axe from the ground. Then, he brandished Rubizioliz above his head, and he was like a tower crowned with crenels as he did so. And there was not one amongst the Bar-Kain who did not acclaim his strength.
“Here be our champion!” proclaimed Skillotz. “Brave Moruzio, once you were a lumberer of trees. But I shall make you a lumberer of men!” He unsheathed the Lauz-Ispariz, elevating its tall blade above the lowly axe. “I hereby name you captain, for you shall be at the head of the enochin hosts!”
***
As the Bar-Kain cheered for Moruzio, Skillotz looked to his army with pride. And as he looked around, his eyes were fixed on the destruction his tournament had wrought on the meadow. He looked again, and gathered his thoughts on the grasslands, now seemingly grassless. In Skillotz’s mind, the plains appeared as vast and empty, a canvas upon which to draw the vision he had begun to nourish in his heart.
When the enochin army returned home, bringing Moruzio on its shoulders, Talizima came to meet them. The councilor heard his son crying to the whole town:
“People of Enoch, hail Moruzio, your new captain!”
And the crowd chanted:
“Hail our champion! Hail our captain! No one shall overcome you, for you are the strongest!”
But Talizima was most surprised by these words, and troubled as well:
“What is this, my son? Did I not name you the captain, after you assured me you would lead our hosts? Do you abdicate so soon the duty I have bestowed upon you?”
“I have abdicated nothing but a title, father. You named me head of the army, but I shall be more than head, I shall be crown! Hark, for these are my designs for all of you!”
The cheering gave way to silence. After the tournament, of what other plans could Skillotz possibly be conceiving?
“As you all know, my dearest enochin, there are seven cities alongside the road between Ophir and Melchy-Zedek. These are called Pilgrim Cities, for they exist to harbour those on pilgrimage between the other two. The population of these Pilgrim Cities is fleeting, for pilgrims come, populate them, and depart, and soon new pilgrims come to fill out the void left behind.”
“We know very well the story of the Pilgrim Cities!” interrupted Talizima. “What have we to do with them?”
“We have not
hing to do with them indeed. Melchy-Zedek and Ophir are no more worthy than we are. So why do we not have Pilgrim Cities as well? Behold, I just came from a meadow in the south. Is it not big enough to hold a city of its own? Would such a city not be much closer to Ophir than we are, and be a stronghold shielding us from the ophalin armies? I say to you, let us found there our own Pilgrim City! Nay, not a Pilgrim City as the ones from our weak iperborin brethren… Rather, a Warrior City! Let not pilgrims but warriors dwell in it! Let their population also be fleeting, as sentinels come, populate them, and then depart when new sentinels come to relieve them! Let them be citizens of this city: not just the enochin, but all our allies as well, coming to and fro with new arms, supplies, and weapons!”
For a brief moment, not one of them knew what to say… but soon Nod came to steer their scrambling thoughts:
“Magnificent! Such is the wisdom of thy judgments, my lord!” She clapped. “With thy leadership, who can prevail over the nephilin?”
“Brilliant!” the multitude clamoured, faithfully following the sylphid’s cue. “Talizima, station our hosts there!”
Skillotz grinned triumphantly. His stature grew in the sight of everyone, even his father. So he turned to Talizima and faced him, eye to eye:
“So you see, oh venerable councilor, now I am more than a captain. I shall say to the builders: Here you shall dig the foundations of a barracks, and there you shall clear the glade for a road. And I shall say to our own: You are a soldier from Enoch and shall march right, and you are a soldier from Tubal-Kain and shall march left. Make me an emissary of yours in this new city, and I shall make all generations proclaim your glory! All I need is your blessing!”
Talizima sighed, but acquiesced for the second time:
“Let it be done as you said, my beloved son. Go, and have power over everything within this new city, builders and soldiers alike.”
So was the city of Lamech founded, with Skillotz as its councilor.
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