Leviathan (Lost Civilizations: 2)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Joash sat stock-still. There was a faint trumpet call. Goosebumps rose on his arms. He closed his eyes, and leaned toward the steppes. He waited, not breathing, not moving. He heard the creak of the boat, the slap of the small waves. He heard a runner shift positions, and knock against an oar. Then, he heard the faint trumpet again.

  “Mammoths,” he whispered, staring at the smudge of the steppes. Oh, how he wanted to see mammoths. He recalled what Adah had told them. The mammoths had left the area because they hated the corruption of First Born. But if he heard mammoths now—

  He turned to Amery. “I need to talk to Lord Uriah.”

  “Can’t it wait?” Amery asked, pouting.

  “I’m not leaving yet,” Beker said stubbornly.

  Joash heard the sound again. Despite everything that had happened, it thrilled him. He began to wind in his line.

  “What are you doing?” Amery asked.

  Joash whipped off his shirt, and dove overboard. Amery yelled for him to come back. He struck toward the sandbar, concentrating on swimming through deep water. If he stopped, he’d sink a long ways down. His arms got tired, and the sandbar seemed no closer than before. So, he ignored the sandbar, and concentrated on his strokes. When he looked up, he saw he’d strayed to the right. After a time, he flipped onto his back and kicked with his legs. Soon, he switched back onto his stomach. Finally, he felt sand under his feet. He stood with relief and staggered ashore.

  Gens greeted him with a silent salute, and threw him a towel. Harn barked with delight, and wagged his tail.

  Joash dried his face as he petted Harn. “I need to speak to Lord Uriah.”

  Gens pointed at the Tiras.

  Lord Uriah was on the ship, and all the boats were being used to fish with, or were on patrol. Joash didn’t feel like swimming again, so he searched for Adah, and found her in Zillith’s tent.

  Joash barged in, with Harn behind. The two women frowned, but were polite enough to listen. Adah shrugged, pretending not to glance at his bare torso. He grinned, and tried not to flex. He was leaner than Elonites, and had a taut, whipcord-strong frame. Seeing Adah with her dark eyes, elfin chin, and the way her lips moved in her quirky smile... He longed to hold her hand, and stare into her eyes as they talked, and—

  “—Are you sure they were mammoths?” Zillith asked, sharply, interrupting his thoughts.

  “No,” Joash said sheepishly. He caught Adah hiding a grin behind her small hand. “From what you’ve told me about them, though, I’m almost certain the trumpet sounds came from mammoths.”

  “What are you thinking?” Adah asked Zillith.

  “That we’re short of water,” Zillith said. “Maybe the wisest thing to do is to go back to the river for more. I’ve been on the sea too many times to start a voyage with a water shortage. If the Nephilim and sabertooths are gone, then we should replenish our water while we can.”

  “Are you sure the sabertooths are gone?” Adah asked.

  “If the First Born Tarag is traveling fast to his destination,” Zillith said, “then I think it makes sense he would take all the sabertooths. His goal is to win his special prize, not possibly thwart us.”

  “Look how hard the sabertooths tried to destroy us,” Adah said. “Look at the giants who joined them. We’ve precious knowledge that I’m sure neither Tarag nor Mimir wants us to link together with other knowledge. Surely, they desire our destruction. I don’t think Joash, or anybody else, should risk going back to the old camp.”

  Joash raised his eyebrows. Was she worried about him? The idea was pleasing.

  “For all their efforts, we escaped the steppes,” Zillith said. “I’m sure the enemy will try other methods. But, Tarag has no reason to keep his sabertooths here, not unless he knows we lack water. While he knows many things, I do not believe he knows that.”

  Adah asked, “So what were the mammoths trumpeting at? Lod told me such beasts only trumpet when they’re angry or frightened. Surely, they trumpeted at sabertooths. It’s foolish to risk...” She met Joash’s eyes, and finished softly, “It’s foolish to send hot-headed grooms onto the dangerous steppes.”

  Zillith rose to her feet. She was openly smiling. “We must talk with Lord Uriah. But first, Joash, go find a shirt, so all the girls aren’t staring at you.”

  Adah blushed.

  Joash grinned as he hurried out the tent.

  ***

  Several hours later two longboats moved toward the Kragehul Steppes. A mast had been slotted into each boat and a small lateen sail hooked up. Each bellied before the wind, and Joash’s boat bumped over the water. Salt spray hit him in the face. He smiled. He was in the prow, keenly watching the shore. Dolphins swam underneath the boat. Joash marveled at them. What sleek, fun-loving creatures they seemed to be.

  Captain Maharbal sat at the tiller. He said Tarshmen considered dolphins as good luck. The Captain wore his red robe, turban and boots. He was at ease in the boat. He’d agreed with Zillith, even though Adah and Lord Uriah had been unsettled as his going.

  “What if sabertooths attack?” Lord Uriah had asked.

  “I would rather risk sabertooths, than beginning a sea voyage with little water.”

  Adah had left angry, unwilling to look at Joash.

  The shore neared, and Joash kept a sharp lookout for mammoths. He held a new spear, and Herrek had awarded him a shield. It wasn’t a big one like Herrek carried, but round, made of three layers of auroch-hide.

  The surf pounded the rocky shore. There was only a narrow opening where the stream emptied into the sea. If they went anywhere but there, the rocks would crush their boat. Behind the shore was a plain, and in the distance beyond it, was the marsh.

  “Hang on!” Captain Maharbal shouted. He nodded to the sailors. The sail went down. Soon thereafter, an incoming wave caught them, and the boat shot forward. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. Captain Maharbal was an expert, though. They rode the wave, and glided smoothly toward the river’s opening. On both sides of them, water foamed against rocks.

  “Out oars!” roared Maharbal.

  The oars clunked and sailors strained. They slid into the stream’s mouth, and began the journey upriver. The shore was a double-spear’s length away on either side. Reeds and bulrushes hid the steppes. They would have stopped, and filled the barrels, but Captain Maharbal didn’t trust this water. It had gone through the marsh. Instead, he wished to reach the stream before it entered the marsh.

  Joash sat at the prow, and watched the birds and muskrats. He was tense, but the animals were calm. No birds flew in alarm, no sudden stilling of insect chirping occurred. By all the signs, no beasts of prey were near.

  In time, they reached the marsh. Mosquitoes buzzed, and the water grew shallow. The boat bumped against mud, and only by great effort, did they move deeper. Joash parted reeds, and then the boat stuck fast. Joash, along with the others, jumped out, pushed and pulled the boat off the mud, and back the way they’d come. They soon found a shore and landed.

  The two warriors from the other boat clattered ashore with weapons. No sabertooths greeted them. The wind tossed the reeds and birds sang. Everything seemed safe.

  “We must work quickly,” Captain Maharbal said. “Joash, Eber.”

  Joash put his spear and shield into the chariot they’d wrestled out of the boat. Eber and he pulled the chariot, the barrels bumping within it. They trotted around the marsh, and were soon on the other side of the cedar-topped hill.

  The warriors trotted beside the chariot, spears ready, shields up and chainmail clinking. The rowers had stayed with the boats.

  They came across the carcass of a horse, its stark white bones worked by ants. Hyenas, vultures, jackals and crows had all done their work, striping the bones bare. Joash looked, and listened for mammoths. He didn’t see any, although he saw their huge footprints. Oh, how he longed to see even a single mammoth. He had heard them trumpet. The footprints showed him tantalizing evidence. Why couldn’t they show themselves?

&
nbsp; They reached the stream, and the work went apace. Too soon, Joash found himself pulling the heavier chariot back to the boats. Soon, he was grunting, sweating and manhandling the barrels into the boats. He pulled the chariot back to the stream with a new set of empty water barrels. He was beginning to wonder why he’d ever volunteered. The mammoths were long gone.

  “Look at this,” Captain Maharbal said later. They were beside the stream.

  The two warriors walked over to the stout Tarshman.

  “Mammoth tracks?” one of them asked.

  “No. This is smaller, but deeper than a mammoth track.” Captain Maharbal frowned. “What makes tracks like this?”

  The warriors shrugged.

  “Joash,” Captain Maharbal called.

  Joash got up from where he ate his boiled seagull eggs.

  “Have you ever seen a track like this?” Captain Maharbal asked.

  The print seemed familiar, but Joash couldn’t place it. The Captain, with his spade-shaped curly beard, seemed troubled.

  “What’s wrong?” Joash asked.

  “Study the track more closely,” Captain Maharbal urged. Joash did. “Notice how deep it is,” Captain Maharbal said, an edge of fear to his voice. Joash nodded as the warriors lost interest and walked away. “The track is too small for a mammoth,” Captain Maharbal said.

  “What about a baby mammoth?” Joash asked.

  “The track is too deep, and this isn’t soft or wet soil in this particular spot.”

  Joash gave the Captain a puzzled look. Maharbal minutely shook his head, his big golden earrings clashing. Joash looked down, and his stomach went cold.

  “I’ve seen a track like this before,” Joash whispered.

  “Where?”

  “At Draugr’s Crypt,” Joash said.

  Captain Maharbal nodded curtly, dusting his knees. “We must hurry,” he said.

  “A trolock made this,” Joash told him.

  “Yes! But speak no more about it,” Captain Maharbal said. “Hurry!”

  An eerie presence seemed to haunt the stream now. Soon, Joash and Eber picked up the chariot-pole. Despite the weight, Joash kept looking around, expecting to see a huge pile of boulders come striding toward them. So trolocks had come out of the cave. Tarag had awakened old terrors, and now the trolocks stalked the land. To do what? Joash wondered if the mammoths had trumpeted at the trolock. Was that why the sabertooths had left? He prayed they wouldn’t have to face the trolock.

  “Hurry!” Captain Maharbal said, with his hand curled around his dagger-handle.

  “What do you see?” a warrior asked the Captain.

  Captain Maharbal was pale. Joash peered back. He thought he saw something at the top of the cedar-topped hill. He pulled the chariot faster.

  They reached the boats, and rolled the water barrels up the gangplanks. Slowly, with much sweating and grunting, they pushed the longboats into the marsh, and turned them around. Warm water soaked Joash’s breeches, as he waded beside the boat. At last, they left the marsh, and re-entered the stream, floating properly again. Everyone climbed aboard. They rowed downstream, casting nervous glances to the right and left. The boats picked up speed. Then, a sailor cursed.

  Joash, along with everyone else, looked at where the sailor pointed a trembling finger. A thing of stone marched toward them.

  “Elohim save us,” whispered Captain Maharbal.

  “He holds a giant’s spear,” one of the warriors said.

  “Row!” Captain Maharbal roared.

  Everyone rowed. The boats increased speed. But, the stream twisted and turned on its way to the sea. The trolock tramped toward one of the turns.

  “We’re doomed!” a rower wailed.

  Ashen-faced Captain Maharbal hefted a Tarsh dart. “How do you defeat such a creature?” he asked Joash.

  “You flee!”

  A warrior laughed harshly.

  Then, an arrow clattered against the trolock’s back. The trolock stopped, and to their amazement, the trolock turned.

  “Hai! Stoneman!” shouted a squat, tangle-haired savage. He was behind the trolock.

  “Row!” Captain Maharbal hissed.

  “Sungara!” Joash called. “Run!”

  Another arrow sped against the trolock. It seemed the stone monster was uncertain whom to chase. At last, it turned, and trudged after Sungara.

  “We’ve got to pick him up,” Joash shouted at Captain Maharbal.

  “How?” the Captain shot back.

  “He saved our lives.”

  “They aren’t saved yet,” Captain Maharbal said grimly.

  Joash stood. He no longer saw Sungara. Maybe the Huri could escape the trolock. But they had to pick up Sungara. He was a Seraph. Even more, he was a human trapped in Jotunheim.

  “What can we do?” Joash cried.

  “Escape to tell the others,” Captain Maharbal said.

  They floated out the stream, and into the sea. The sailors rowed hard.

  Joash was dejected. He felt terrible they hadn’t picked up Sungara. The Huri had saved them. Joash swore to himself that never again would he let anyone speak ill of the forest folk.

  “Look,” one of the sailors said in awe.

  Joash expected to see the trolock. His stomach did flips, and his mouth went dry. A fold in the land had hidden a huge mammoth from their sight. It walked along the shore followed by others. They were shaggy, dark brown in color, and the lead mammoth had a knob at the highest point of his back. They were huge, and had incredibly long curving tusks. What a match for giants they would be. Maybe some giants were taller, but none was as heavy, or as kingly. Joash was awed. Everything was as magnificent about them as Zillith had told him. As big and ferocious as sabertooths were, it was hard for Joash to imagine how any would have the courage to attack the lead bull. The bull walked proudly, as if he owned the Earth. The lead mammoth, the bull, raised his trunk and trumpeted shrilly.

  Joash stared in amazement.

  “Glorious beasts indeed,” said Captain Maharbal.

  “Look out!” cried a sailor.

  A wave crashed against the boat. Water drenched them. Joash looked away as he helped raise the sail. When he looked again, the entire herd walked in a stately fashion along the shore. He saw a small calf reach up with its trunk, curling it around his mother’s tiny tail.

  “This is almost worth everything I’ve been through,” he told the Tarshman.

  Stout Captain Maharbal nodded.

  “What a marvel they are,” Joash said. He watched the mammoths for as long as he could. They dwindled, and slowly grew smaller. He heard them trumpet once last time.

  Goosebumps ran up and down Joash’s arms.

  Mammoths. The beasts had left this region because they hated the corruption of First Born. Joash suddenly frowned. Mammoths were majestic, and they, along with horses, and most dogs, could not stand to be near First Born. He studied the distant shore. The mammoths were glorious and noble. They hated First Born. Joash shook his head.

  How could he think about mammoths when Sungara was stranded in Giant Land? The Huri had possibly given his life to save them. Suddenly, Joash felt shame that he’d taken so long to make his decision about being a Seraph. Either First Born would rule the Earth, or mammoths and men would. He wanted to fight on the same side as mammoths, and with courageous men like Sungara. His mouth opened. Had Elohim given him a sign?

  Determined to help Sungara, and to tell Adah and the others that he was a Seraph now, Joash pulled hard at the oar.

  Chapter Five

  Slith

  Our pursuers were swifter than eagles in the sky.

  -- Lamentations 4:19

  “The warriors do not approve of your decision,” Herrek told Lord Uriah.

  They stood by Herrek’s tent on the edge of the sandbar. Gens whittled on a piece of driftwood. Joash stood near an extremely bleary-eyed Lord Uriah. The swaying Patriarch had been instructing Joash in the lore of Seraphs. Herrek leaned on his upright chariot lance, his
face grave.

  “The warriors do not approve of your decision,” Herrek repeated.

  “They do not wish to leave the sandbar?” Lord Uriah asked, with a red face. For once, his drinking seemed to have the better of him.

  “Not on your conditions,” Herrek said. “It’s sacrilege to release the Asvarn stallions. The horses are our blood, our way of life and our wealth.”

  Lord Uriah nodded slowly, his hand on Joash’s shoulder, perhaps to steady himself. He reeked of ale. “Your thinking is sound, Champion. ...I do not fault you there. I fault your disobedience.”

  Herrek shook his head. “I have not disobeyed you, Lord.”

  “In your heart you have. You have said, I will tell my grandfather how the warriors feel about giving up the prized stallions. I will thus force him to decide my way.”

  Herrek stiffened.

  “You shall not take your chariot onto the steppes and follow Tarag,” Lord Uriah said. “That is folly.”

  Herrek exploded with a shout, and threw down the lance. Gens looked up. Joash paled.

  “What is this I hear you say?” Herrek asked. “It is folly to hunt our enemies? You cannot mean that. You’ve spoken about Tarag, that he plans great evil. Let me take my chariots onto the steppes. In that way, I may save the stallions, and save the world much grief. I will be a bur to our enemies. I will not let them hatch their plans in secret, but will learn their hidden destination as I sting them like a wasp. How can you say no?”

  Lord Uriah took his hand off Joash’s shoulder, and straightened, no longer swaying. “Pick up your lance,” he said.

  Herrek hooked his big thumbs through his sword belt.

  Lord Uriah said, “As brave, valorous and skilled as you are, you’re of no use to me, or to Elohim, as a rebel.”

  “I’m not a rebel,” Herrek said.

  “Then pick up your lance.”

  Herrek scowled, but he picked up his lance.

  Lord Uriah scratched his closely cropped white beard. “How has this vain idea come upon you, Herrek? You’re the bravest of my warriors, and once you were the most obedient. None doubt your skills. For are you not called the Giant-Slayer? But this...” Lord Uriah shook his head, and put his hand on Joash’s shoulder. “It is folly to track a First Born, especially Tarag of the Sabertooths. If you had said, ‘Grandfather, only we have the knowledge of what Tarag stole from Draugr’s Crypt. What if the Tiras should sink? Who then can carry the precious knowledge to Lod?’ Ah, then you would have an argument with which to possibly sway me. But this... this is folly. It comes from a prideful heart. Tarag defeated you easily. Now, you wish to erase this blot. And now, I suppose you think defeating Tarag is something within your power. I say to you, Herrek the Giant-Slayer, that you are worse than a fool to think so.”