Vaughn Heppner - Giants

Adah slowly shook her head. “The rest is old knowledge, forgotten lore of a lost battle that helped save the world from darkness. Lod, my teacher, told me a portion of the tale. After reading the parchment, I remembered his words.”

She looked at them, her dark, hypnotic eyes wide and her brown skin drawn over her cheekbones. “The powers of the North gathered for a surprise attack. They hoped to shatter the legions of Arioch the Archangel and lay waste to all the holdings along the Suttung Sea. Then, with those lands secure, they would join forces with Azel and his southern captains, and they would join with Moloch, Baal, and Surtur. With the combined hosts and with the covering legions of Arioch but a memory, they would crush the armies of Caphtor, Ir, and Iddo. But, such was not to be. Arioch the Archangel marshaled his legions earlier than was his wont, and he gathered many allies. Sturdy spearmen from Nearer and Further Tarsh joined with Huri archers. Many Shining Ones and their guards also joined Arioch. They sailed across the Suttung Sea in an armada of open boats and landed close to where we now stand.”

Adah smiled grimly. “Such is the old story. Now, combined with my parchment, I know where we are. That is why I have grown fearful. My back is bowed, my burden more than I can carry.”

Herrek stirred impatiently.

Gens carved on his birch-bark.

Elidad stared at her, his emotions unreadable.

“Draugr Trolock-Maker was counted among the mightiest of the bene elohim ,” she continued. “He, along with Necromon, studied the terrible magic of spirits. Wicked were Draugr’s ways, crafty his hideous art. Luckily, his host this time was less in number than that of Arioch’s, and it was too late for Draugr to flee. But his skills didn’t desert him, nor did his soldiers. By his evil arts he caused these very hills to rise from the ground. Here he awaited Arioch, and here he made his fell plans. In dark caves Draugr forged a horrid army of trolocks, using spirits to animate the humanoid piles of living rock.

“Only when he was ready, and after a month of siege, did Draugr dare march from his hill-made fortress and meet Arioch on the plains below. The clash of armies was terrible, the battle bloody. Many champions died, countless warriors perished. In the end, Arioch the Archangel drove the evil horde from the field and back into the artfully risen hills. The slaughter there was horrible, but evil also befell the victorious. For the hills were rigged with traps by the crafty bene elohim . Even so, Arioch was merciless and hunted his ancient foes. Draugr Trolock-Maker fled to a cave, ‘tis said, and there Arioch found him and sealed him within. Many trolocks were sealed with Draugr, so they could torment their dread creator until he released his spirit for judgment. Jotnar escaped the hills, as did the Nameless One and a thousand of his Niflmen. They fled north.

“The hills were thereafter called Kel-Hemen, meaning, the Hills of Death. The Nephilim, I’m told, have named these the Gjoll Hills, which means, the ‘Blood of the High.’”

“In these hills death broods with secret malice. The cave we search for will be filled with ancient artifacts. Of that, I have no doubt. I fear that First Born and Nephilim will attempt to awaken the old powers. I fear that the worst terrors of the Accursed War will shortly be upon us.”

Adah swayed. “What champions will save us now? Who will stand against the First Born? Who will replace the Shining Ones of yore?”

“Is there more?” Elidad asked.

“There is no time for more,” Herrek said. “We must hurry.”

The others, whatever their thoughts, did as he bid. Elidad and slump-shouldered Adah stepped into their chariot, and Gens and Herrek into theirs. The stallions plodded onward, their heads drooping. Koton panted and walked beside Joash.

What more did Adah know? Joash wondered. What was the curse she’d hinted at?

In the sweltering heat they approached the pass of Kel-Hemen. Had that once been the main gateway to the enemy fortress?

The animal noises grew less. So too did any insect buzzing or bird singing. Then only a low moan of wind filled Joash’s ears, that and the creak of chariot wheels and the thud of hooves on grass. The grasses thinned out and disappeared, and the wheels clattered over shale. Sweat dripped from Joash’s chin as he stumbled and slipped on the treacherous footing. The shale was black and glossy, and no piece looked bigger than Joash’s hand.

Suddenly the stallions halted, and so did Koton. No matter how much Gens coaxed or Elidad cracked the whip, the horses refused to move.

“Stop!” Joash shouted.

With sweat dripping off his face, and the whip-handle quivering, Elidad glared at Joash.

“Don’t beat the horses anymore.”

Elidad jumped off the chariot and advanced upon Joash. “Do you dare order me?”

Joash licked his lips, unsure what to say.

A loud crack flicked leather particles onto Joash’s cheeks.

“I asked you a question,” Elidad said softly.

“No, Warrior,” Joash said.

“Do not play word-games,” Elidad said. “You shouted at me to stop.”

“We all heard it,” Herrek said sternly.

Couldn’t the warriors see the stallions were near panic?

The whip cracked again and lifted Joash’s hair. Joash ducked his head.

Elidad laughed. “Do you dare order me now?”

Joash shook his head.

“Are you afraid?” Elidad sneered.

Joash stared into those bloodshot eyes. He’d seen a boar’s eyes like that once, just before the boar had ripped a hound into bloody shreds. He knew Elidad’s reputation. Few cared to face him on the field of battle. Yet something else than fear filled Joash, anger that someone would beat a helpless horse. He was wise enough, however, and scared enough, that he kept the anger off his face.

“And you hope to become a warrior,” Elidad sneered.

“While you hope to gain treasure,” Joash said, as evenly as he could.

Elidad cracked the whip a third time.

Joash cried out, dropping his spear as he clutched his bloody cheek.

“Do not spar words with me , Groom. If you do, I’ll give you a thousand cuts, but still leave you your life.

Joash saw blood on his hand.

“Do you still dare to order me?” Elidad asked.

Joash shook his head.

“Good. Now strip off your shirt and lay over that rock. I will only give you twenty lashes.”

Joash stared at Elidad in horrified wonder.

“Obey me, Groom.”

Joash noted the harsh cast to Elidad’s face. The warrior wanted to see blood. Joash leveled his spear at Elidad. “You will not beat me like a slave. I am a free man.”

Elidad laughed, and raised the whip.

Joash hunched his shoulders and watched the whip.

It flashed. Joash ducked and thrust the spear toward the snaking leather. Incredibly, leather parted as it sliced across razor-sharp steel. The small part of the whip flew past Joash’s head and landed like a dead worm. The main part of the whip Elidad flicked behind him, as he made ready to lash again.

“Hold!” Herrek said.

Joash and Elidad glanced at Herrek.

“His spirit is bold,” Herrek said. “He will not be whipped like a slave. He is a free man and a warrior-to-be.”

Elidad considered Herrek’s words and nodded, curling the whip, thrusting it into his belt. He drew his longsword.

“We have no time for this,” Herrek said.

“I’ll not be ordered about by a groom,” Elidad said.

“I was not ordering you, Warrior,” Joash said, his spear still aimed at Elidad. “Rather, I was trying to tell you that evil fills the Hills of Kel-Hemen. Why, otherwise, do the stallions fear to go on? Why are there no animals here, not even insects or birds?”