Behemoth (Lost Civilizations: 5)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Nyla dared ask, “Do you have a point to any of this?”

  Ut smiled evilly, showing stained but strong teeth. “The bear fawns on you, something the beast has never done before. To me, the great bear appears drugged.”

  Unconsciously, Nyla let her hands drop onto her daggers.

  Ut shook his head. “You have nothing to fear from me, assassin. I merely point out…. Hm. Let us say that I suspect your control of the bear is a temporary thing.”

  “…Continue,” she said.

  “Normally, I would not tell you my suspicions concerning your beastmastering abilities. You surely believe that I’ve just insulted you. That was not my intention. I merely wanted to show you that my reasoning is keen. In other words, I know what I’m taking about.”

  “Go on.”

  Ut’s strange gaze fixated on her. “Gog feared Chemosh, and thus allowed my father to die. But Chemosh has thwarted Gog.”

  “How can that be?” asked Nyla with a laugh. “Chemosh is dead.”

  “Is he?”

  “You and I both saw his mangled body.”

  “Do you remember the corpse’s odd smile?” asked Ut. “Did you notice the bloody, flattened grasses around him and that my father had made a last supreme effort?”

  Nyla shrugged. So Chemosh had died hard. What did that have to do with anything?

  “You don’t understand,” whispered Ut. “Chemosh will want his bear back. You control the bear now. You will be first on the list to taste his malice.”

  With enemies prowling around nearby, and because of the bear’s strange behavior, Nyla finally lost patience with Ut. “Your father is dead. You no longer need live in fear of him.”

  Ut laughed dryly. “The body died. The spirit lives on.”

  “What?”

  “My father spent many years on the Isle of Poseidonis. He learned the deep lore of skull magic. What is that exactly? It is tearing souls out of dying people and stuffing the souls into a skull. At needed moments, the necromancer uses the souls to power his magic. Surely, it is no great stretch for a skilled necromancer to force his spirit upon another, possessing their flesh. The body of Chemosh perished. What was his supreme effort for in the glade, those last moments of his life? Why, summoning his powers to possess a nearby, living person.”

  Ut leaned closer so their faces were almost touching and the smell of his decay became a wicked stench in her nostrils. “My father is alive. I know because I feel his presence. We are all in terrible danger.”

  “You’re mad,” Nyla whispered.

  “Remember,” said Ut, “Chemosh is the most powerful beastmaster alive.”

  Something in Ut’s manner unsettled Nyla. “Did you tell Dagon your fears?”

  Ut shook his head. “My grandfather doesn’t understand necromancy. He sneers at it as something beneath him. He is too arrogant to fear what should terrify him.”

  “Why do you tell me these things?” Nyla asked.

  The fear in Ut’s eyes intensified. “Because we must slay whoever Chemosh possesses.”

  “…Suppose what you say is true,” said Nyla. She turned away from Ut, no longer able to withstand his stench. This idea, it was terrifying. Who could kill a person able to switch his spirit into new bodies? It would be more difficult to battle an immortal. “How can we slay his spirit if his spirit simply possesses another body?”

  “Chemosh isn’t all-powerful,” Ut said. “Remember, his skull was destroyed in the glade. It will take time for him to fashion another skull as powerful. Yet he still might be able to transfer his spirit if I’m not around to stop him.”

  “You?” asked Nyla, startled enough to stare at Ut again.

  “I learned many things in the jungles of Lemuria,” Ut said softly. “As a cannibal, I will be able to prevent his spirit from possessing new flesh.”

  Nyla didn’t want to believe Ut. It was too bizarre, too vile. She turned toward the isle on the horizon. According to Ut, Dagon needed the cave bear. Did Gog believe that as well? Nyla’s stomach churned thinking about it. Ut said they needed the bear to help capture the Behemoth. Would that put her into danger?

  “How long have you suspected all this?” she asked.

  “That my father still lived?” Ut asked.

  Nyla nodded.

  “Since I saw his corpse grinning in the glade,” said Ut.

  “When did you last sense your father’s presence?”

  “Less than an hour ago,” whispered Ut.

  “Two men just went into the woods,” she said.

  “What happened to them?”

  “One died. The other is unconscious.” Nyla’s eyebrows rose. “The great bear feared that one.”

  Ut grew excited. “Hurry! Let me see this man. We may not have much time left.”

  “That one lies behind the galley,” Nyla said.

  Ut whirled around as his hyenas yipped with excitement. They followed their master as he broke into a shambling trot.

  -15-

  The spirit of Chemosh fought in the citadel of the bonesetter’s soul. The spirit had only been able to transfer to the bonesetter because the old man had touched the reaver whose face Lod had smashed.

  If Chemosh had tried to possess the bonesetter when he’d first died from the berserk bear nine days ago, the battle would have been swift. The time spent on Lod, however, had brought Chemosh perilously near the final death. The time spent attempting to possess Lod had greatly weakened his spirit.

  Damn Lod and his stubborn heart! Who could ever have suspected a mere human would possess such spiritual force? Luckily, the bonesetter lacked Lod’s fortitude. The bonesetter had led a sordid life, filled with debauchery, adultery and murder. The man had a dark heart filled with dark deeds. In the citadel of the bonesetter’s soul, Chemosh envisioned himself choking the man to death. His big fingers tightened. The bonesetter’s spirit squirmed and thrashed. Ah, this was like necromancy of old. It felt good. It was satisfying.

  Chemosh roared, “Die, you fool!”

  “Mercy!” squeaked the pathetic spirit. “Let me reside in a corner of my body. I promise to be obedient.”

  “There shall be no quarter!” Chemosh laughed. He throttled the bonesetter’s spirit, slaying it. Then he took up residence there, stretching out his spirit. He’d finally done it. He possessed new flesh. Now…now let the others beware.

  ***

  Ut panted as he limped toward the reaver on the mat. A thin and weary-looking bonesetter sat cross-legged beside him. It must have been hard work fixing the reaver’s ruined face. The old bonesetter was slumped over in exhaustion.

  Ut felt his father’s presence. He felt the oppression and the bitter anger. His father would want revenge.

  Ut summoned the power of his spirit. It was a cannibal-strengthened thing. He had learned much in Lemuria’s jungles. Others thought eating human flesh a disgusting habit. It was so much more than that, so much more. Let the dainty fools have their qualms. Soon he would reach the isle. The celestial fire would cure his leprosy. Ut didn’t think the others, not even Dagon, could truly know how to use the Fire of Baal. Chemosh would have known. Perhaps any necromancer would have. That was another reason Chemosh could not be allowed a second chance at life. He, Ut, would know how to control the flame stolen from above, and he wanted it all for himself.

  “He’s coming to,” the bonesetter said.

  Ut groaned fearfully. He was going to have to do this in the open. That was bad, but it was worse to let Chemosh live.

  Several reavers turned to watch him. They were already frowning. The old bonesetter must have sensed what was going to happen. He scrambled to his feet. He staggered away, no doubt because of his fear. It was a pitiful performance.

  The bloody-faced reaver on the mat began to stir.

  “Stand back!” shouted Ut.

  Reavers stumbled away from him as the big hyenas dashed forward, growling menacingly.

  The lean reaver on the mat opened bloodshot eyes. Those eyes locked ont
o Ut. The reaver worked his battered mouth, desperately trying to speak.

  “He’s diseased!” shouted Ut. He couldn’t think of anything better to say. “Don’t let him bite you!”

  Men glanced at one another, perplexed.

  The man on the mat attempted speech, no doubt attempting a spell. Before that could occur, Ut lunged, stabbing the iron point of his cane into the reaver’s throat.

  Those of Shamgar shouted in outrage. The chief reaver cried, “Gog curse you!”

  Hyenas snarled and snapped, salvia flying and reavers stumbling away from the excited beasts.

  Ut leaned on the cane as he summoned his spirit. He would smother Chemosh’s spirit and keep it from leaving the dying body. Ut tensed, pressing down with his power, but felt nothing of his father.

  “Murder,” the old bonesetter whispered. “Ut murders us.”

  Shouting in agreement, reavers drew their weapons. Hyenas snarled in response. The Rovians in the trench stopped working as they looked up in fear.

  Ut withdrew the iron point of his cane, and he aimed the bloody tip at the nearest swordsman. “This man had the foaming sickness.”

  “Lies,” whispered the bonesetter, who clenched his fists before his scrawny body with its gore-stained garment.

  Ut aimed his cane at him. “Do you dare to challenge my authority, old man?”

  The bonesetter dipped his gray-haired head, no doubt in fear, trembling and backing away.

  “Why did you just kill Hazo?” asked a reaver.

  “I told you,” Ut whispered. “He had the foaming sickness. He’d been bitten by a diseased animal.”

  The reaver glanced at the bonesetter. “You tended Hazo. Is that true?”

  “None challenges my word,” Ut said angrily.

  “I mean no disrespect, beastmaster,” the reaver said.

  “It may be as the beastmaster says,” the old bonesetter said grudgingly.

  Ut grinned, showing off his strong stained teeth. Humans were chattel, and they were meat. A show of strength always frightened them into submission. He still felt his father’s lingering presence. That had been too near of a thing. Ut glanced at the dead man. He was surprised Chemosh’s spirit hadn’t put up more of a spiritual fight. Ut glanced at the reavers watching him. They were angry, but his pets frightened them.

  Ut jabbed his cane into the dirt and worked down onto one knee. He bent toward the body, sniffing carefully and using his power.

  “He’s going to eat the flesh,” the bonesetter said.

  Ut looked up sharply, and he caught a glimpse of the bonesetter’s eyes. He knew that look, and in a sick instant of clarity, Ut realized that Chemosh’s spirit had already made the transfer. The spirit of his father was in the bonesetter.

  “Chemosh,” Ut whispered.

  “The beastmaster means to eat all of us!” the bonesetter shouted. “We’re all doomed unless we fight.”

  Reavers glanced uneasily at the old man.

  “Kill the hyenas before Ut slays us!” the bonesetter shouted.

  “No,” said Ut. “The bonesetter lies. He’s possessed.”

  “Ut is possessed!” the bonesetter shrieked. “The cannibal wants to dine off our flesh. He’s mad with his sickness. Look, the beasts mean to eat us.” The bonesetter pointed a shaking finger at the biggest cave hyena as the beast stalked toward an armed reaver.

  That reaver howled fearfully. And with his scimitar raised, he advanced on the big carrion-eater.

  “No!” shouted Nyla, who watched the proceedings from a distance. She hurled one of her curved daggers. It twirled end over end, and it slid into the reaver. He flew backward, with the hilt of the dagger pressed against his throat.

  “Set down your weapons!” shouted Nyla. Behind her, the mighty cave bear roared thunderously.

  Everyone froze in terror, including the old bonesetter and the hyenas.

  Ut was the first to recover. “I know who you are,” he told the bonesetter. Their eyes locked, and rage blazed in the bonesetter’s eyes.

  “Will you let the beastmaster slay us one by one?” the bonesetter shouted to the reavers.

  “The bonesetter is possessed by an evil spirit,” Ut said, who never took his eyes off the possessed man. “First the spirit possessed him.” Ut pointed at the dead reaver on the mat. “Then the dark spirit moved into the bonesetter. From within the old man, the evil spirit seeks to cause hatred among us. It is mercilessly cunning.”

  “Those are pathetic lies, you cannibalistic monster,” the bonesetter said. “We know you’re mad with murder-lust. You believe that eating healthy men will cure you of your evil sickness. We must stand together,” the bonesetter told the others.

  “What is the truth here?” Nyla shouted at Ut.

  “The bonesetter is possessed,” Ut said.

  “Then he must die,” said Nyla.

  “Do you really believe Ut?” the chief reaver asked Nyla.

  “In this,” Nyla said, “I know that Ut of Cave Hyenas speaks the truth.”

  The chief reaver shouted at his men. “Stand back and sheathe your weapons!”

  Reavers hesitated, but then they began to lower their blades and spears.

  “No!” shouted the bonesetter, looking around for help. “I order you to defend me.”

  “Who are you to give us orders?” the chief reaver asked.

  “You fools!” shrieked the bonesetter. “I’m Chemosh the Shaman. I live. Ut my son wishes to slay me and Nyla helps him. Guard me until Dagon returns. I will reward each of you with riches and with beautiful harlots to bed.”

  “You filthy spirit!” shouted Ut. “Your lying tongue will not help you today.” The leprous beastmaster limped toward the old bonesetter.

  “No!” the bonesetter screamed, shaking his bony fists. “I am Chemosh!”

  Ut laughed like a hyena and shuffled faster.

  The bonesetter turned then and began to run. He was old, but he was fleet-footed. The bonesetter sprinted with vigor. Ut howled, and he hurled his iron cane. The point speared the old bonesetter in the back, pitching him face-first onto the damp soil. He began to crawl for the trench around the half-buried galley. The bonesetter’s eyes burned with unholy desire as he stared at the nearest Rovians. Then Ut was upon him, kneeing the bonesetter in the neck as he drove the cane deeper, through the flesh and into the soil.

  “No!” shrieked the bonesetter. The old man tried to turn around and face Ut, but the cane kept him pinned face-first against the soil.

  Ut clouted the bonesetter repeatedly. Then Ut drew an iron knife and he began to saw at the bonesetter’s neck.

  “Ut! Ut!” the bonesetter shrieked. “I’m your father.”

  “Die you vicious snake,” Ut whispered. “Die the final death and go down to Sheol in misery.”

  “Mercy!” cried the bonesetter. “I ask for mercy.”

  “Suffer the torments of the afterlife,” Ut whispered, and he bent low, biting the bonesetter’s neck, tasting the man’s withered flesh. Ut did it to bring his cannibalistic powers into play. Now he felt his father’s presence. It was strong on the old man.

  “Ut,” whispered the bonesetter. “Do not do this. I will—”

  “You’ll die,” whispered Ut, with blood soaking his mouth.

  Now began a fearful and unseen conflict between the nearly exhausted spirit of Chemosh and the raging spirit of Ut the Cannibal, his son. It was a terrible wrestling match of wills. Chemosh nearly overcame Ut’s lesser strength. But Ut was anchored to life, while Chemosh’s spirit was adrift. The spirit slipped free of the dying bonesetter.

  I curse you, my son. I curse you with a plague of evil luck.

  Ut felt the curse all around him, but he fought on, smothering the spirit of Chemosh. Then he felt a widening of something cold. There was an ethereal shriek, and he no longer felt his father’s presence. The widening cold snapped shut, and Ut knew that Chemosh the Shaman had forever left the green fields of Earth.

  Ut awoke to his surroundings. His m
ummy-bandages were soaked with the old man’s blood. Ut raised his head, and he saw the horror in the eyes of the reavers and the terror in the watching Rovians. Let them hate and fear him. He hated all of them.

  With a groan of weariness, Ut struggled to his knees and then to his feet. He withdrew the iron cane from the corpse. One by one, his cave hyenas slunk to him.

  “He is dead,” Ut said. “He is gone to the place of torments, never to worry us again.”

  No one said a word, not even the watching assassin.

  Ut might have shrugged. Instead, he silently damned them all. He was cursed, but he’d been cursed since Lemuria. It was nothing new. Now more than ever Ut knew he had to reach the Isle of the Behemoth. Once he gained the Flame of Baal…Ut limped for the stockade as he began to formulate the words he’d tell Dagon.

  Let the final death of Chemosh be a lesson to the world. All who matched wits against him would in the end lose. And that’s all that really mattered.

  Ut whistled, and his cave hyenas trotted after him, the only creatures he could truly call his companions.

  -16-

  It was miles away from the stockade as Lod brooded about the spirit of Chemosh and about Dagon and his beastmasters.

  He and Keros sat on rocks looking out over the great Sea of Nur. Spray touched them as waves crashed against the nearby boulders. Mists concealed the isle, but Lod felt the flame’s presence. The spirit of Chemosh had opened him to it.

  After a time, Lod took in the briny odor of the sea. Compared to the endless forest’s smells, the sea seemed cleansing. He was cleansed, free of the draining spirit. It felt good just to sit here, to bask in the sun and feel the cooling mist. Yet this wasn’t a time to relax, but to forge ahead and try to gain a step on the Nephilim.

  “We must stop them from getting control of the Behemoth,” said Lod. “That is why we came.”

  One by one, Keros tossed pebbles into the sea. The lad seemed quiet. Suddenly, Keros hurled his handful of stones and turned to Lod. “I just want to free Tamar.”

  Lod nodded. He could understand that.

  “We need to find more Rovians,” Keros said. “Surely, there are villages along the coast.”