Vaughn Heppner - Giants

Joash looked up. The vultures watched them, and they watched something at the foot of the rocks. He looked again at the boulders and blanched. Chariot wreckage! He saw an upward slanting yoke and a glimpse of a box half in the boulders’ shade.

He pointed it out to Adah. She nodded grimly. The wreck lay in a stony cul-de-sac.

Joash stopped beside Herrek’s chariot.

The big warrior glanced at Adah’s bow but said nothing about her poisoned arrow. “The vultures show an interest in the wreck,” he said, as if the fact of the wreck didn’t bother him. The stark look on his face belied that, however.

“Are they all dead?” she asked.

Herrek unslung a horn of beaten silver. The horn sang with power and proudly proclaimed him to be a charioteer of Elon.

A bear-like man, with a green cloak, climbed atop the highest boulder. He had silver colored hair. Elidad raised his spear. The sunlight glinted off its point. He pointed into the shadowed areas. “Sabertooths!” he yelled.

Herrek put away the horn. “We will hunt sabertooths,” he said grimly.

“Will you simply charge into the cul-de-sac?” Adah asked.

Herrek put on his helmet, the one with the proud horsehair crest. He picked up his huge auroch-hide shield, and then his twelve-foot lance. “What do you see, Groom?”

Joash had been carefully studying the grasses. “Sabertooths watch us.”

“How many?” Herrek asked.

“At least three.”

Elidad, Joash noticed, worked his way down from the top of the boulders.

“What do you plan?” Adah asked.

“To entice the sabertooths away from the rocks,” Herrek said.

“And then?”

“Then, I will slay them.”

Adah stared at Herrek. “May I point out that you have only three hounds, and only one other warrior.”

Herrek appeared not to have heard her.

“I know you’re aware that one of those sabertooths is Old Three-Paws,” she said. “Three-Paws, a deadly hunter of men.”

The knuckles of Herrek’s hand, the hand wrapped around his lance, turned white at the force of his grip.

“Elidad can survive upon the boulders long enough for us to gather more warriors,” Adah said. “Study Elidad’s chariot. It is wrecked, and I see no sign of Brand. Old Three-Paws has butchered two Elonites on this expedition. We must not allow him to kill more.”

“I will slay Old Three-Paws and rescue Elidad,” Herrek said.

“You cannot slay him,” Adah said. “Your stallions are weary. You only have three hounds, as I’ve said. And instead of many warriors, only a Singer and a single Groom support you.”

Joash interrupted. “The sabertooths are moving.” He pointed at the higher grasses around the boulders. “See how the grass shifts over there, but there is no wind? They’re trying to ambush us.”

“Let us retreat,” Adah said. “Then let them charge us. I’ll shoot them. After the poison has slowed them, we’ll rescue Elidad.”

“I will not blaspheme Jeremoth’s memory by using poisons against his slayer,” Herrek said. “This will be done honorably.”

“Are you mad?” Adah asked. “This is Old Three-Paws. He’s a man-killer. He’s sly and cunning.”

“No poisons. Rather would I die than sully my name,” Herrek said.

“This is a beast, not a warrior. There is no honor or dishonor to be won or lost here.”

“You are wrong, Singer. Old Three-Paws is a glorious foe. In single combat he slew my brother. Today, I will slay him.”

“What about the other sabertooths?” Adah asked.

Inside his helmet, Herrek smiled. They saw how ghastly it was, how determined and fierce.

“Herrek—”

“Listen to me. You are right when you say Old Three-Paws is cunning. It is also hot today, and he has the benefit of the shade. But he will be sluggish from gorging himself upon horsemeat. Nor will they stupidly charge after us so you can shoot them with poison arrows. Or should I say, they will not charge unless they think they can kill us in one fell swoop.”

“What do you plan?” Adah asked.

Herrek raised his lance. “I have come to kill you, Three-Paws! I have come to put my brother’s ghost to rest! Today you die, slayer of men!”

Joash watched the grasses. He saw yet another sabertooth, or the shift of the tall grasses where the beast moved into ambush position. He gave the reins to Adah, jumped out of the chariot, unwound his sling, and took a smooth stone from his pouch.

Herrek slotted his long lance into its chariot holder and put aside his cumbersome shield. He stepped off the chariot, readied his seven-foot war spear, and strode toward the cul-de-sac where the sabertooths hid.

“Good luck,” Adah called. “May Elohim guide you!”

“Don’t worry,” Joash said, although he was worried. “Herrek is drawing them from hiding.”

With the reins wrapped around his fists, Gens keenly watched the grasses. He whispered to the two stallions. They snorted and pawed the ground.

“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Adah said.

“The lions at home are clever, too,” Joash told her. “I’ve seen Herrek use this maneuver before.” Joash began to twirl his sling as he took several steps in Herrek’s direction. “Be ready to flee,” he told her.

Old Three-Paws watched the hated two-legs stride toward him. It seemed he recognized the walk, the certain, confident stride. Then, a truant breeze drifted near. Old Three-Paws lifted his fanged snout. His nostrils twitched.

Yes! It was him, his hated enemy.

Although he yearned to roar with rage, Three-Paws inched forward on his belly. If only the two-legs would come close enough. The heat was terrible, and his full stomach made him slower than usual. It made them all slower, but if the prey would actually walk to his death…

Old Three-Paws’s huge body was rigid, tense, and ready. Closer. Just a little closer. Yes, several more steps, and then he would finally sink his teeth into him whom he longed to slay.

Joash concentrated upon the grasses. He saw a massive gray shape inching into ambush position. He twirled his sling faster, and then he released the end of one of his sling cords. The smooth stone zipped through grass but missed the crouching beast by a hair’s breadth.

Herrek stopped. He was dangerously far from the chariot and near the cul-de-sac. “Three-Paws!” he roared. “I’m here.”

Grasses stirred, but no sabertooths exploded out to attack.

Herrek shifted his spear so he was ready to throw. “Three-Paws! Man-Killer! Slayer of Jeremoth! Come and meet your doom!”

“He’s mad,” Adah whispered.

“No,” said Gens. “For years he’s been torn by grief over his brother’s death. Now he atones.”

“The sabertooths attack!” Joash shouted. He released his sling again, hitting a beast on the snout as it exploded from hiding. The sabertooth stopped and shook its huge head. Then it once more dashed at Herrek. “Go!” Joash told the dogs. They raced for Herrek as they madly barked. Joash turned and jumped aboard Adah’s chariot. Old Three-Paws roared. Adah’s stallions bolted in fear. Joash hung on to the chariot railing, and turned to see what happened.

Herrek faced the charging monster. Then another and another beast leaped from hiding, and at the Champion of Teman Clan. Herrek was doomed. But Gens’s stallions had been trained to hunt lions, and Gens was perhaps the greatest driver on the steppes. He urged the Asvarn stallions into the fray. They thundered toward Herrek, following the dogs.

“Turn the team!” Joash shouted at Adah. He freed his spear from its chariot holder. The Singer accomplished a miracle and turned the team. Her teeth were set as she, too, charged the sabertooths.