CHAPTER 27
I never knew who my mother was. I still don't. She was just a vessel used for breeding. Like so many other human women, she died while birthing her giant brood. Her body was incapable of bearing the strain. Whelping a child four times larger than normal is a daunting task. My father didn't love her or even know her name. She was a slave of Sheol and he was king; he violated her and then waited for his son.
I was born only four days before my brother Sihon. We had different mothers of course, but Ogias was father to us both. I think he found us both rather disappointing.
Sihon was half-witted and overactive during his early years. It was a bad combination and the other giants found his behavior annoying to say the least. I kept him near to me and occupied so as to save him from as many beatings as I could. Only later, after hundreds and hundreds of years of instruction, was he able to reason at an average level. I, on the other hand, have always been resourceful, but I never really learned how to behave like a proper giant. I was not a savage, and I refused to act like one.
Neither of us grew as large as our father. I always thought that it was more than just coincidence when Ogias chose to sire no more sons. I believed then, as I do now, that we remained an embarrassment to him up until the time of his demise.
He was not a terrible father. He was just uninterested. Sihon and I were left alone for the most part. Besides the obligatory weapons training, we spent almost all of our time hunting for food or exploring these very halls and caverns. Sheol was unfinished in the days of my youth, but enough progress had been made to provide two young giants with countless hours of adventure and many places to hide in order to escape beatings.
As Sheol grew, so too did we. Soon both our home and our bodies reached maturity. Once I finished growing, I found myself filled out to my current proportions. Sihon was my height, but his body was not as muscular. My brother was lean and fast. I remain brawny and powerful.
We were not supposed to leave the safety of the mountain. The war with the humans was at its zenith when I was a young giant, and my father felt that Sihon and I would surely be killed if we ever came anywhere near a field of battle. Worst yet, we might distract the real warriors fighting against the humans and thereby cause them to be injured or killed. Ogias thought it best if we just stayed away from the conflict altogether. We thought differently.
Only Sihon and I knew how proficient we had become with our weapons. Our instructor Mani, handpicked by our father to train us, was uninterested in our progress and development. He resented his appointed station and wanted nothing to do with the two of us. In our youth, he would tell my father that we were hopeless, and that our hands were better suited for carving rock than for doing battle with weapons. The disappointment on Ogias' face was easy to read each time he came to check on our progress and watched us struggle through our lesson. Eventually he stopped coming at all, and soon Mani grew even worse.
He would show us our lesson but once and then leave us to our own devices, preferring instead to gorge himself on cattle and slaves. That was fine with us. He was an arrogant ass of a giant anyway. He particularly enjoyed tormenting Sihon who was an easy target because of his simplemindedness. I eventually had to kill the brute, but that's another story entirely. Luckily for the both of us, I had another instructor.
We practiced what he taught us. We disciplined ourselves and worked very hard at mastering all of the weapons that were at our disposal. We trained with spears, axes, swords, staffs, and even bows. I think we both realized that it would be up to us and us alone if we were to rise above our current station in life. I, and even Sihon to a lesser degree, wanted desperately to be more than just the underachieving son of Ogias.
Our escape was easy. As I said before, none of the other giants paid much attention to us or cared about what we did. I assumed at some point that Ogias would be told of our absence, but I was sure that it would be days or possibly even a week before he knew that we had left. And I was just as sure that once we were gone, Ogias would not put forth any great effort to get us back. In fact, I suspected just the opposite. With us gone, Ogias would be unburdened and no longer ashamed. He would shed no tears for his missing sons. Good-bye Father.
We left Sheol on the heels of a troop of giants. They were a motley crew, about fifty in number, going off to do battle with men. We kept our heads down and our weapons at the ready and we walked right through the main entrance of Sheol just behind the last of them. I didn't recognize any of the troop, but that was no assurance that one or more of them wouldn't know who we were. I decided it was best to separate from them as soon as we put a little distance between ourselves and the great cave that led into the home we were leaving behind.
After we walked with the giants for three or four miles, I decided it was time for us to go our own way. I knew the troop was headed east towards the great rivers and the villages of men, but I also knew that they would find Ogias and the battle lines well before they reached those settlements. The humans had been busy expanding, and their nearest village was now no more than sixty kilometers away from the entrance to Sheol.
They called it Dimasqa. It was wrapped in an oasis of lush fertile land that they had converted into a green agricultural belt surrounding their village. They grew things like plums, cereals, and all varieties of vegetables. Thus the inhabitants of Dimasqa had no trouble feeding the ever growing army of men who came there to help battle the giants. Ogias had managed to put a stop to their advancement, but I always felt like they were right upon us.
Once the giants reached Dimasqa they would join the slaughter and spill blood, either their own or that of the enemies. As of late, the scales had balanced and neither side held the advantage. The blood odds were even.
It was no secret that the war was at a stalemate. The giants, although much larger and stronger, were horribly outnumbered by the humans. There had never been much more than about four thousand giants around, but the humans were like insects and they numbered twenty times that. I recall hearing Ogias say once that, "Man is an inferior species, yet I cannot stop them. They spread like a disease of the skin." His description was vulgar, but it was also accurate. After almost a century of conflict with the giants, the humans had swelled in number instead of being depleted by the wages of war. I knew what this meant, and I suspected that my father did to. Eventually man would defeat us. They would push us back down into the mountain and wipe the land clean of giants. I didn't know if the Watchers would let that happen, so far they had stayed neutral, but without their intervention our demise was inevitable. Still, Ogias fought on.
I was born in Sheol and knew very little of the outside world when I decided to venture out into it. This was not the case with most of my kind. The first generation giants, those fathered by the fallen ones, spoke of a time before when man and giant lived side by side and shared the sunshine that warmed the land. Their relationship was always an uneasy one, but open warfare had always been avoided. Then the famine came, and everything changed. The giants, maddened by their hunger, began to attack and devour humans. This didn't sit too well with the leaders of men. They had no desire to be fodder. The giants were driven from the land around the great rivers, and the war began.
Giants, including myself, have voracious appetites. If you were born a giant, then you were born starving with a hunger that can never be satiated. I am the last of my kind and have lived longer than any giant ever born. Despite the great strides that I have made, even now I struggle to control my ravenous cravings. The pangs are always there. The hunger is in the blood.
Ogias, my father, was the first giant. He was fathered by Semjaza, one of the most lustful and powerful of all the Watchers, and his birth was cause for great rejoicing amongst the earth bound angels. They knew that if Semjaza could sire a child with the fully corporeal body that he was given when he descended, then they should be able to do the same with theirs. They wasted little time in proving themselves correct.
Within the first ten years of Ogias'
life the two hundred fallen angels known as Watchers fathered almost two thousand more giants. Semjaza alone fathered an additional one hundred or more. Their lustfulness knew no boundaries. These Watchers procreated with as many mortal women as they could convince to lay with them, and took still others who resisted their advances. They could not be stopped. The men of earth were powerless to impede their ravaging behavior.
These Watchers were mighty beings who knew many things such as magic, astrology, and the art of war. The humans used to tell of a bright morning when these angels fell from the sky and landed atop Mount Ba'al-Hermon. There were two hundred of them, led by twenty of the strongest that walked down from the peak and into the world of man. Life on earth was changed forever.
The angels were tall and handsome, and the people of earth found them fascinating. They spread into all the villages of men and began to teach basic, yet beneficial things at first-agriculture, animal husbandry, handwriting, engineering-and man's quality of life improved by leaps and bounds. As you can imagine, these Watchers became very popular amongst the villagers, and they were embraced by all of the people who lived in the region of the great rivers. In turn, the angels began to enjoy the attention and soon wholly acclimated themselves to life on earth. They taught much, but they also kept many secrets that they only hinted at from time to time. This way they kept an air of mystery about them, and their star would not fade. In truth, they were addicted to their own celebrity.
Two of the Watchers fathered no sons. Both of them were mighty decarchs, or leaders of ten, but they were different from the others. The first of them you already know. It is your lord Kokabiel. He gave no thought to women or the cravings of the flesh. He had but one love: that was the cosmos and the canopy of heaven above. He was either studying astronomy to increase his own formidable knowledge, or he was teaching what he knew to the humans in order to help them better understand the tiny planet they lived on and its place in the void.
The other was Armaros. I always considered him to be the most extraordinary of all the Watchers. He was certainly the most complete and well rounded of the lot of them. Whereas the other Watchers usually contented themselves mastering just one discipline each, Armaros attacked all fields of knowledge with voracity. He continued to educate himself long after the other angels grew complacent and satisfied with the teachings of the archangels. He was curious and driven, and he couldn't accept not knowing the answer to something or not being able to master a weapon that someone else wielded.
I don't know why Armaros never fathered children. He would have made an excellent parent. He was kind and patient-two traits my own father sorely lacked-and seemed to genuinely care about others besides himself. It may have been due to his own morality, his loyalty to his teachers, or because he never stayed in one place long enough. I don't know. But if I had to guess why he chose to remain an uncle instead of a father, I would have to answer the obvious. He didn't like giants.
We got along quite well, but as I said before, I never really behaved like other giants. Armaros had a lot to do with that. He took an interest in me from the start, and his frequent visits to Sheol were almost solely to help with my development. I believe that at first his interest in me was purely a product of his own curiosity. He wanted to know if a second generation giant was doomed to repeat the same ill behavior as his father before him. Luckily for me I was groomed by Armaros, and the answer was no. Despite my shortcomings, I would not grow up to be a monster.
Eventually Armaros came to care for me. I could tell it in the way he spoke and acted. I was now more to him than just a social experiment. He was pleased with me, and although his visits grew farther and farther apart the older I got, his influence upon me never lessened. Inevitably, I began to look upon him as a surrogate father. This only widened the gulf between Ogias and me.
All of the giants knew that their uncle Armaros cared very little for them. They knew he detested their crude behavior, gluttony, and sinful natures. And so they hated him right back. The resentment remained unspoken on both sides, but it was there. I believe there may have been a begrudging respect between Armaros and Ogias, but it also remained unspoken. When Armaros came to Sheol only looks and nods were exchanged between the giants and him. They didn't want him there, but they couldn't stop him from coming to the mountain.
I recall the last words that my father said to me. He had left the battle and was back at Sheol in order to check the progress of the few able bodied giants that continued to labor on the mountain. While he was there, he also decided to check the progress of his two sons. Sihon and I were summoned to the weapons area where both our father and that ass of an instructor awaited us. We knew what came next. Feelings of confusion poured over me as I walked over and removed a sword from the crude wooden rack which held the practice weapons.
It had been a long, long time since our father had last judged our weapon proficiency, and to be honest with you, I thought that he had given up on us. That's why this latest test surprised me. Ogias must have been getting desperate for bodies to bring back to the front lines if he was considering using his children, whom he had previously thought of as completely inept, as soldiers in the war with man. It also excited me. If he was serious about needing warriors, then I knew Ogias would take me back to the war with him once he witnessed my ability with a weapon in my hand. I felt confident that I would put on quite a display for my father. With a little luck, Sihon might even do well to.
I think Mani was just as surprised by the impromptu weapons test as we were. He was also scared. He was completely inept as a teacher, and now he feared that he was about to be found out. Before he had always been able to blame our ineptitude on our youth, awkwardness, or lack of concentration, but now we were full grown and he was out of excuses.
It sickened me to know that Mani might receive any credit from my father if I showed proficiency with the blade in my hand. I gave serious thought to miserably and purposely failing this little test that Ogias had arranged. It was hard for me to decide what I wanted the most: Mani to be punished and shamed, or I to be fighting beside my Father against the humans. Sihon sparred with Mani first, and as I watched their session unfold I made my mind up to have both.
Sihon was fighting as best he could, but he was clearly overmatched. Mani, despite being lazy and corrupt, was well trained with his long sword. Sihon was naturally quick, but he had trouble learning and couldn't remember much in the way of technique. The many intricacies of sword fighting that Armaros taught me, and I in turn tried to teach my brother, were lost in the open spaces of Sihon's mind. Mani pressed his advantage.
Our instructor had always taken great joy in tormenting my younger brother. He constantly berated him for being feebleminded and wiry in stature. Even though most of his insults were lost on Sihon, I heard them too. Mani knew this. It had always been his mission to bring misery upon me by way of my simple brother. Memories welled up inside of my head as I watched Sihon continue to struggle. The back of my neck grew hot.
"Enough," my father shouted. "Sihon has learned all that he can. I fear my youngest son will never be a warrior."
The two lowered their swords. Sihon looked to me for encouragement, and I gave him a little nod of approval. That was all it took. He was happy. Despite the numerous whelps and scrapes that covered his body, compliments of the dulled edge of Mani's practice blade, my brother was happy because I tricked him into thinking that he had done well.
Perhaps he had. He had surely done his best. Mani had battered his body, but Sihon's childlike spirit remained uninjured. My thoughts, however, were still dark. Now was the time for retribution. I recalled the look on our instructor's face every time he struck Sihon a blow. He had enjoyed the lesson a little too much. He would not enjoy the next one.
We met near the center of the stone floor and touched blades like we had done many times before. This time, however, I went on the attack and caught Mani completely off guard. Before he even realized what happened, an angry red
whelp rose up across his cheek: it was put there by the flat of my blade. I watched the rest of his face change to the same color as the wound, and I knew that my blow had its intended effect. The brute was furious.
He charged at me just as I knew he would. Almost all giants, and Mani was certainly not the exception, were slaves to their own rage. It was a form of madness that very few of my kind learned to control. Much like the hunger, it was another savagery that defined our species. It was sometimes useful in battle and sometimes it was not. This was going to be one of those times when the rage would not serve Mani well.
I quickly sidestepped my enraged instructor and dealt him another blow, this time two-handed and across his back, with the flat of my blade. He howled in pain and anger, and then he charged again. We continued like this for some time-him charging and me dodging-and then he began to tire. Now it was my turn to attack.
I went after him like a rabid fox. I felt faster than I ever had before. Mani probably thought that I had somehow split myself in half and was in two places at once. He had no defense. I called on everything that Armaros had ever taught me as I danced and struck as no giant ever had before. I tried my hardest to color all of my instructor's flesh with the end of my blade. He deserved no clemency.
Mani endured for what felt like another minute or so, and then he dropped his blade. Right after that he fell back on his bottom and scurried backwards until his back was against the wall. The act was a sign of submission and a plea for mercy. I had no choice but to grant it. To do otherwise would have been barbaric, and I had been taught better. Still, it would have been satisfying to continue pummeling the monster, and part of me considered it. Instead I lowered my blade and turned to my father.
"Mani is no teacher," I said, "nor has he ever been one. He is lazy, hateful, and a glutton."
"He is a giant," Ogias answered. He was looking at me strangely and closely. I felt like I was being studied. I also felt embarrassed, but I had no idea why. "All these traits you mention, they are fairly common among our kind. When you condemn Mani, you condemn us all . . . yourself included."
"I am nothing like him," I responded.
"You are like none of us," father shot back. "You behave differently because of the teachings of Armaros. He has corrupted you and made you believe that being a giant is a condition which needs to be remedied. It is not. I will not apologize to anybody, especially a Watcher, for being a giant. You are a giant Og . . . and the son of a king, yet you are not satisfied with your station. You want to be more."
"I only want to fight by your side," I said. "I sought to prove myself here to you. Nothing more."
"I will not have you dancing about on the battlefield. You do not fight like a giant, and I don't want your strange style, no matter how effective it may be for you, corrupting the minds of my giants." Ogias spoke with finality in his voice, and I knew it would be futile to argue with him. "Mani, you will come back with me. Goodbye Sihon. Goodbye Og."
"Goodbye father," we spoke together. I knew then that I would be leaving Sheol. The next day I found myself walking with my troop of giants.
Sihon and I broke north once the troop reached the eastern plateau. Here the land was filled with both caves and great volcanic cones. Both made excellent hiding spots for a couple of young giants. Sihon and I, both already well versed in the art of disappearing, did no more than just lag behind as the troop pushed eastward. I don't think they ever noticed us at all.
We were all going to the same place-the battlefields where others of our kind fought against the armies of man-but it was necessary for Sihon and me to enter the battle unrecognized. My plan was simple: I would find my way onto the field of slaughter and kill humans until my arms were too heavy to lift. Then, after they had seen my exploits and I revealed to them my true identity, Ogias and the other giants would not be able to deny that I was a very formidable warrior. They would be delighted to welcome Sihon and me into their ranks, and our involvement just might turn the advantage back to the sons of the fallen. Of course I was young, naive, and foolish, and what actually happened was nowhere near as extraordinary as what I had imagined.
The Peacock Angel: Rise of the Decarchs Page 40