Leviathan (Lost Civilizations: 2)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Herrek sat forward with interest.

  Captain Maharbal nodded.

  Lord Uriah asked Joash, “Would you tell us what Mimir told you in the crypt?”

  Joash spoke, as the others listened intently, Herrek most of all. He had been unconscious at the time. Joash told them that Mimir had said he had a strong inner flame. Tarag had also been afraid to slay the humans helpless before them, lest it awaken more trolocks.

  “Tarag and Mimir feared the trolocks,” Captain Maharbal said, when Joash had finished.

  “That’s easy to understand,” Adah said. “I saw a trolock. Only a First Born, or maybe a lucky giant, could slay one. I hope to never see a trolock again.”

  Lord Uriah stroked his beard. “So, adamant armor and weapons....” He looked around. His bleary eyes lingered on Herrek. “Why does the First Born want such armor?”

  “Nothing can pierce it,” Zillith said. “Or, at least only weapons made by the same substance can.”

  “It’s said that only in the Celestial Realm can adamant be mined,” Adah said. “That source is now barred to the evil ones.”

  “Will Tarag fight on selected battlefields?” asked Captain Maharbal.

  “First Born do not desire to do so,” Lord Uriah said. “That is a well known.”

  Joash had learned that the longer a person lived, the less he or she wanted to engage in violent combat. Thus, people, and Nephilim, too, who lived hundreds of years, usually avoided fights if they could. Some First Born were over a thousand years old, and thus, they would logically avoid wars more than others did.

  “Maybe Tarag is different,” Adah said. “His is the nature of sabertooths. Maybe he yearns to stride across bloody battlefields as he wreaks havoc upon his foes.”

  “I might agree,” Zillith said, “except for one thing. Naram said the answer is in the North.” The Mother Protectress pursed her lips. “What Tarag did must be taken together with the raising of Gog’s Oracle in Shamgar. As it must also be taken with Mimir’s joining of Tarag, and the fact of Ygg, Motsognir, Gaut and the other giants who attacked the Tiras.”

  “Yes....” said Lord Uriah. “The giants aided the sabertooths, thus they aided Tarag. The First Born is not acting alone. That is unusual. Jotnar, the Father of Giants, has clearly given his assent to whatever Tarag attempts. Jotnar must be certain that what Tarag reaches for is attainable.” Lord Uriah drummed his fingers on the sea chest. “The old tales say that Jotnar escaped Arioch the Archangel, and that he was a contemporary of Draugr’s. Surely, Jotnar understood the peril of breaching Draugr’s Crypt, and the fearsomeness of trolocks. The prize they reach for must be grand indeed.”

  “Do you think giants fear the age-old trolocks?” Captain Maharbal asked.

  “I know they do,” answered Adah.

  “I’m inclined to agree,” Lord Uriah said. “Notice Tarag’s fear of waking more trolocks. Herrek, Joash and the others live because of it.”

  “Should we attempt to go back and awaken trolocks?” Captain Maharbal asked.

  “Awaken how?” Zillith asked sharply.

  “Maybe there are some who will sacrifice their lives for a greater good,” Captain Maharbal said.

  Joash recalled that in the crypt, trolocks had awakened when people died.

  “No!” Zillith said. “That is abominable.”

  Lord Uriah poured ale into his mug, “My sister is right. And we would have no reason to believe awakened trolocks would be our allies. All we know is that Tarag and the giants fear them.”

  Joash glanced at Herrek. The Champion seemed lost in thought.

  Lord Uriah drained his mug, and gasped for air. “I’ve lost many kin these last few days. I didn’t lose them in a useless project of capturing steppe ponies. Nor has Captain Maharbal lost money in helping us because I saved his life, and now he yearns to repay me. Instead, we have each done these things to stop the evil designs of First Born and Nephilim. You, Herrek, and you, Joash, played your parts in the crypt.” He turned from Herrek, and looked at Joash. “Your master did well, but you did more.”

  Herrek stiffened.

  “You were not bewitched by the enchanted emeralds,” Lord Uriah told Joash. “I think that like Lod, you are now known to the enemy as a Seraph. Both Lod’s, and your inner flames, flicker brightly. Mimir, who is the wisest of his race, desired you for a servant. I’m certain he has his reasons. You must be wary of those reasons. For I do not think it is in your power to stay out of the fight. What does lie in your power is choosing sides.”

  Joash blinked, shocked.

  “You are either for Elohim, or against him,” Lord Uriah said. “I do not think, for you, there will be a middle road. I do not say this in order to scare you into Elohim’s service, but because you are a fine groom, and helped my grandson. However, your dangers are more than you know.”

  “…What do you mean, Lord?” Joash asked.

  “The legendary giants are known to us,” Lord Uriah said. “They, like me, have lived a long life. I have learned what their gifts are. That is why I fear for you.”

  “Herrek slew Gaut Windrunner,” Joash said. “Why then do you fear for me?”

  Zillith breathed deeply, her eyes showing similar worry and concern.

  “Ygg the Terrible has a fell gift,” Lord Uriah said. “At the beginning of a battle, he can claim the living for his father, Jotnar. His spear, if you’ll recall, arched over the charioteers. We should have all died.” Lord Uriah faced Herrek. “You should have died. The giants know this, Ygg most of all. They will wonder why this did not occur. For they know each other’s gifts. They know that Ygg can gather all who he can cast his spear over and speak against.”

  “But... But some of the charioteers were saved,” Joash said.

  “Yes!” Lord Uriah said.

  “Cannot a Nephilim’s gift fail?” Herrek asked.

  “They can,” Lord Uriah said “But, only if they’re matched by something as strong, or stronger.”

  “I don’t understand,” Joash said.

  “Nor do I,” said Herrek.

  “You, Groom, stood against Ygg’s gift,” Lord Uriah said. “Your inner fire is bright. Few mortal men have such a hot core. And the slaying of Gaut Windrunner went far toward defeating Ygg.”

  “Then, why will the giants suspect Joash, and what did Joash do?” Herrek asked. “I... I mean, Joash did very well on the beach. He helped me climb aboard the boat, and he gave me his spear.”

  “He did more,” Lord Uriah said. “His inner flame acted as a shield. Because of it, you were able to overcome the grip of fear that Ygg had put on you and your warriors.”

  “But, why won’t they think I’m the one with the inner flame?” Herrek asked.

  “Because it was Joash who acted first,” Lord Uriah said. “First, he rowed at the giants. He gathered charioteers, and pulled you aboard. The giants witnessed that. Now, they will recall it at their leisure. They are wise concerning the ways of magic, and those who can thwart magic.”

  Herrek stared at his hands.

  “When I saw Gaut Windrunner on the beach, I knew he’d used his gift on the others,” Lord Uriah said. “They were fatigued because seven giants had partaken in Gaut’s lone gift. The gift is not all-powerful, but it is supernaturally mighty. Tarag must only have sent seven giants, because that’s all Gaut could reasonably gift for speed.”

  Joash poured himself ale, and drank a hearty swallow.

  “You were able to slay Gaut Windrunner,” Lord Uriah told Herrek, “because of Joash’s presence. Yours was a mighty feat, and the other giants noted it. Well are you called the Giant-Slayer, and it would now be an ill thing for you to fall into their hands.” Lord Uriah stared at Joash. “But, it would be even worse for you. They now know you, and they know you shielded us against their magic.”

  Joash drank more ale.

  “Here, put that down,” Zillith said in concern.

  “I’m curious about the one called Stone Hands,” Captain Maharbal said. “Wha
t is his gift?”

  “To turn stones into bread,” Lord Uriah said. “The bread is steaming hot inside, and said to be the finest on Earth. A host that marches in Motsognir’s company need never fear starvation.”

  “That sounds like a useful gift,” Captain Maharbal said.

  “But evilly begotten,” Zillith said.

  “Of course,” Captain Maharbal agreed.

  “Are you saying I no longer have a choice in becoming a Seraph?” Joash asked.

  “You always have a choice,” Lord Uriah said.

  Joash shook his head. “I don’t understand the part of a bright inner flame. What does that really mean?”

  Lord Uriah sighed. “That magic has little effect over you, and little effect on those around you.”

  “Like the bewitching emeralds?” asked Joash.

  “Exactly.”

  “But the others were bewitched,” Joash said.

  “Not as bewitched as they could have been,” Lord Uriah said.

  “Ah,” Herrek said. “That explains why Elidad was more deeply in its power.”

  “What about the magical gifts given to each Nephilim by his divine blood?” Joash asked. “Do those also lack power over me?”

  “Yes,” Lord Uriah said.

  “Then, how could Mimir have seen my flame?”

  “I’m sure he saw nothing. From that, he deduced it was high.”

  Joash grimaced. “Why is my flame so high?”

  “Why do some men have great athletic ability?” Lord Uriah asked. “Why are some men fast and others smart? The answer is because that’s how they were born. Maybe they can increase their abilities, or destroy them through misuse. In just such a way, you have a high inner fire. You were born with it. It’s up to you to decide how to use it.” Lord Uriah gave Joash a wry smile. “Now you understand why Mimir desires you for a servant.”

  “Hm,” Joash said.

  “And now you understand why it’s important to us you choose Elohim’s service,” Lord Uriah said. “We’re in desperate need of help, your help, Joash. Too many of our kind have died. Ever since the Great Sundering, our numbers have dwindled, and it seems harder and harder to find new Seraphs. We, sitting here, have probably gathered more Seraphs than were at Naram the Prophet’s deathbed.”

  “Sungara the Huri was also a Seraph,” Captain Maharbal said. “He came to me two months ago, bringing many of his clansmen.”

  “Where is he?” Zillith asked.

  Joash told them how Sungara had fled in a different direction as the chariots had rattled for the beach.

  “Maybe Sungara is still alive,” Zillith said. “Maybe he hid from the giants.”

  “Unlikely,” Lord Uriah said. He sipped more ale. “He was a brave man.”

  “To Sungara,” Captain Maharbal said.

  Joash wasn’t convinced that Sungara had died.

  “He should have boarded my chariot,” Herrek said. He too toasted Sungara’s memory.

  After a time, Joash asked, “If I became a Seraph, what would be my goal?”

  “To discover why Tarag took the adamant armor and weapons,” Lord Uriah said.

  “How?”

  “At the moment, I do not know.” Lord Uriah looked at the others. “Do any of you?”

  “He would start by asking for Elohim’s help,” Zillith said.

  “Maybe we should aid Lod,” Adah said. “Naram the Prophet said that when all else baffles us to search out Irad. Maybe Joash should go to Shamgar.”

  Captain Maharbal laughed. “No, Singer, you, I and anyone else who went to Shamgar in a Further Tarsh ship, would be taken captive, and put on the slave block. You must never forget about the Oracle of Gog.”

  “Then, what of Lod?” Adah asked.

  “Indeed,” said Lord Uriah, “I fear for him.”

  Joash stared at his mug. He wanted to serve Elohim. He believed in Him, and worshiped Him, but becoming a Seraph was something else entirely. Giants waited to take their revenge on him, yet he was supposed to find out why Tarag had gone to Draugr’s Crypt. The very idea that he find out sounded impossible.

  “Tell me again what Lod said,” Lord Uriah told Maharbal.

  “Lod asked for a ship to wait at Gandvik Rock. He would take a longboat, enter Shamgar and secretly meet with dubious allies. He hoped to return with Irad, and sail north to where we now wait. He wanted four weeks, but I told the ship’s captain to wait eight, if needed.”

  “We do not have enough drinking water to wait more than a day or two longer.” Lord Uriah drummed his fingers on the sea chest. “I don’t dare send a party inland to the old camp for water. Surely, sabertooths and giants await us there. No, I must gain fresh water elsewhere. That could prove troublesome.”

  “Let’s begin today to journey to Gandvik Rock,” Zillith suggested.

  “Captain Maharbal doesn’t have enough cargo space for all the people, and the remaining stallions,” Lord Uriah said.

  “Leave the horses on the steppes,” Zillith said.

  “It may come to that.”

  “What?” Herrek asked, outraged.

  “Or, leave some of your people on the sandbar,” Captain Maharbal said. “I can send a ship for them later.”

  Lord Uriah shook his head. “A storm might wash away the sandbar, or maybe the giants will use the barge. No, I’ll take everyone.”

  “Where does Tarag take the adamant armor and weapons?” Zillith asked. “We must discover the destination soon, before Tarag can implement whatever his plan is.”

  “Allow me a chariot and horses,” Herrek said. “I’ll trail Tarag.”

  “Not on the steppes,” Lord Uriah said. “Sabertooths would slay you. It is dangerous to track First Born. Necromancy could be turned on you, or worse, you would be captured and questioned.”

  “Joash would protect us from magic,” Herrek said. “And, do not be so certain the sabertooths could catch us. If we have eight horses per chariot, I could ensure fresh teams at all times.”

  “To wait is folly,” Adah told Lord Uriah. “We must act before being acted upon.”

  Captain Maharbal grunted agreement.

  “We’ll wait another two days,” Lord Uriah said, “in the hope that Lod was successful, and even now approaches us in your second ship, Captain.”

  Zillith shook her head.

  “Speak your mind,” Lord Uriah told her.

  “I fear for Lod,” she said. “He has gone into the lion’s den.”

  “And this Irad,” Adah said. “Who is he? And why is he so important?”

  “Yes... Irad,” Lord Uriah said. “Who is this mysterious Irad? And will Lod be able to find him? Let us hope so, and quickly.”

  Chapter Four

  Mammoths

  “Look at the behemoth, which I made along with you and which feeds on grass like an ox.”

  -- Job 40:15

  Joash glumly sat in a longboat. After the council meeting, Adah had avoided him. She’d sent word that she was giving him time to think about becoming a Seraph. She didn’t want him to decide in order to please her, but for him to do what was right for himself.

  He, along with Beker, Amery and a few grooms, tossed baited lines into the sea. Silvery fish flopped in a bucket, so the morning hadn’t been entirely wasted. But, the combined grief was strong. Beker’s father, Othniel had died, along with most of the expedition. Back near the sandbar, there came sawing and hammering sounds, as sailors repaired the Tiras.

  Only a few warriors, chariots and Asvarn stallions had survived the giants, and only a handful of dogs had swum to the Tiras. Still, combined with Captain Maharbal’s sailors, free-fighters, herders and others, space was at a premium aboard ship.

  Amery tensed as her line quivered, and shifted to the right. She hissed, “The line’s cutting my hands.”

  “I’ll take it,” Joash said.

  “No,” she said, as she began to pull in the fish. In moments, her fists were purple colored.

  Joash hooked his line on a thole-
pin and grabbed a net. He poised himself, and saw a silvery flash in the water. Amery pulled faster. The fish bumped against the bottom of the boat.

  “Bring him in a little closer,” Joash said.

  Amery stood, causing the boat to sway, and yanked the line. The fish jumped out of the water. Joash netted it, and by falling backward, he brought the flopping fish among them. Beker clubbed it, and Amery began to unwind the line from her hands. When she was done, she managed a grin.

  “That’s the biggest one yet,” Joash said.

  She gave a prideful nod.

  Joash raised the big fish, removed the hook and re-baited the line. He glanced at her hands. They were raw, and a cut showed blood. “Maybe you should take a break,” he said.

  She shook her head, and threw the line back into the sea.

  Joash had only caught one fish, a small one. Amery had been hauling them in all morning and giving him sly glances.

  A day had passed since the meeting. Joash figured that until they left the sandbar, he didn’t have to make his decision. Besides, Adah’s avoidance was making him mad. He also wanted a sign. The others said Elohim wanted him, but how did he know that? Being a Seraph seemed like being a prophet, or a clan priest, a position of authority and responsibility. He was a groom. If he were supposed to become a Seraph, then surely Elohim would give him a sign.

  Joash stared at where his line entered the water. All kinds of fish lived down there, and plants, weeds and crabs. He studied the smudge of the Kragehul Steppes. It was so close, and yet so far. Hopefully, it was too far for giants, or Tarag-controlled sabertooths, to swim.

  It was peaceful here, but grim. Early this morning, he’d overheard Herrek speaking with Lord Uriah. Herrek had sounded determined to trail Tarag by chariot. There had been few defeats in Herrek’s life. Maybe Herrek wanted to retest himself against the First Born. Joash had almost looked for Adah to ask her if the bewitching power of the emeralds could still be driving Herrek. She would have taken that the wrong way, though. Adah would likely figure he’d come to secretly see her. He grimaced. She’d have been right. Why had he ever kissed her? It had probably been a mistake.