Vaughn Heppner - Giants

Herrek picked up his weapons, as did Elidad his. Before any of them could stop him, Gens slipped through the narrow opening. Elidad roared with rage and squeezed after Gens. Herrek followed, and then Adah.

At last, Joash the Groom, despite his fear and feeling of hopelessness, screwed up his courage. He, too, slipped into the crypt.

An aura of sinister purpose and dread rituals filled the crypt. The stench of lingering foulness was strong, and the torchlight seemed to be smothered by an inky power. They wandered into a forest of strange-colored rocks. The rocks, or the separate jumbles of them, towered higher than even Herrek. They had to weave their way around the many piles. Joash made certain not to touch any. They horrified him, and they seemed hideously unclean. Even worse, out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw them move.

They were trolocks, but dead ones, surely. Their animating spirits must have perished ages ago. That’s why they’d toppled. But, such an explanation went against everything Joash had been taught. Spirits were immortal. How then could they perish?

Maybe they slept, Joash thought in horror. His mouth turned dry like ashes. If the trolocks slept and should awaken…

No, the piles of weird-colored stones weren’t trolocks. They were simply a strange aspect of the shrine. But something had walked and had made the three-toed footprint in the rock floor outside. Something had opened the massive door and disrupted the eon-old dust. And something had made a sound of rock grinding against rock.

Elidad laughed. Joash jumped. The human sound didn’t fit this lair of evil. Here, only alien voices should speak, and those in sibilant whispers or infernal shouts.

“Look,” Elidad said. “Draugr.”

Adah and Joash lifted their torches and moved toward the sound of Elidad’s voice. Adah gasped. Herrek called upon Elohim. Like a sleepwalker, spellbound, Joash advanced upon the incredible sight. This was beyond any dream. This was a nightmare come to life. No more would he doubt the old tales. No more would he wonder why the Shining Ones had come down from the Celestial Realm to help man defeat the all-conquering bene elohim . His mouth worked, but no sounds came forth.

“The bene elohim Draugr Trolock-Maker,” whispered Adah. She stood beside Joash, and added her muted torchlight to his. Even so, it wasn’t enough to let them truly view this vast and incredible sight.

Draugr, or his long-lost skeleton, sat on a titanic obsidian throne. Such was the arid cold of the crypt that shreds of flesh still clung to the grim titan. He was monstrous, thrice the size of Mimir, and on him hung a lank coat of chainmail armor. A conical helmet clad his skull, and the withered flesh around his eyes and forehead made the empty sockets seem bottomless. A terrible force seemed to radiate from the lich, and around his waist was girded a mighty belt. Hanging from the belt was a scabbard and sword, which only a large giant could hope to wield. An impossibly huge ruby served the sword as a pommel. The metal hilt was spotless. And the hilt, like the chainmail, reflected the torchlight like silver. Yet, it seemed darker and stronger than any mortal silver.

“Adamant mail,” Adah whispered in awe. “This is a treasure beyond price.”

Elidad stared at her.

“It was armor fashioned and worn only by bene elohim and Shining Ones,” she whispered. “No iron is, or was, like it. Not since the divine hosts walked upon the Earth has any seen adamant. The Shining Ones were said to have scoured the Earth and taken any back with them to the Celestial Realm.”

“And the sword?” asked Joash, whispering.

“Adamant as well, I would wager,” Adah said.

“But its size,” said Elidad. “Who could wield such a sword?”

“Giants,” Adah said, “or First Born.” She stepped toward the lich’s right. A huge adamant shield leaned against the throne. It gleamed and upon it was a stone mask symbol, the mark of Draugr.

Joash backed away. The lich dismayed him. It almost seemed to watch him. He turned. No, something else watched them. Joash glanced from rock pile to rock pile. His heart beat faster. If one of the rock piles should move and lift a hideous head…

“We’re being watched,” Joash said.

Adah turned from the lich and inspected the crypt.

Herrek also turned. The warrior raised his spear and shield and roared in a mighty voice, “Dare to show yourself! I, Herrek, the Champion of Teman Clan, challenge you to single combat!” His voice rang in the crypt, and for a moment, it seemed their torches blazed brighter.

Joash marveled, and in his own breast beat the desire to meet and defeat the enemy. Then the torches dimmed, and a doleful power crept over them. The rock jumbles radiated fiendish menace.

Elidad, who had walked past the lich, cried out. “Here! I’ve found it!” He dashed out of sight, behind the obsidian throne. Gens followed. Slowly, Adah did likewise. Joash didn’t dare be alone with the rocks. He rushed after them.

An eerie green glow greeted him. Elidad knelt by a sunken pit that was filled with emeralds twice the size of those in the leopard-skin pouch. Elidad raved and dug his hands into the pit, scooping emeralds and letting them tinkle into the huge stone bin. Never had Joash guessed such wealth could be in one spot. They were indeed rich beyond their dreams.

Laughing, Elidad took one of his bags and shoved fistfuls of emeralds into it. He lifted the sack, his face shining with lust. “We’re rich!” he cried. “All of us.” His laughter became maniacal.

Gens joined him, producing his own sacks. He too began to fill them.

Adah thrust the end of her torch between two rocks. She peered around, with a poisoned arrow notched on her bowstring.

“Where’s Herrek?” Joash asked.

She shook her head.

“I need more sacks,” Elidad shouted.

Joash licked his lips. The madness was too much. The lich of Draugr was too much. Outside, Nephilim waited. He must destroy the enchanted emeralds .

“I need more sacks!” Elidad roared.

“What about your leopard-skin pouch?” Joash asked, walking closer.

Elidad gave him a blank look.

Using his torch, Joash pointed at Elidad’s belt. “It will hold more.”

Elidad tore the pouch from his belt as a nasty grin filled his face.

Deciding that no more moments might come, Joash stepped closer still. His hand shook as he thrust the torch into Elidad’s face. Elidad screamed, dropping the leopard-skin pouch. Joash dropped the torch, snatched the pouch, turned, and ran.

Elidad made a sound like an animal. He leaped to his feet and struck his chest in rage. “I’ll kill you!” he screamed.

Joash skidded to a stop, ripped open the pouch and rolled the emeralds onto the floor. He picked up a heavy stone, and with an oath, he cracked the emeralds. A second blow splintered them into various pieces.

Adah screamed. Gens moaned. Elidad stood stunned. From near the throne Herrek shouted in amazement, and from somewhere in the crypt rocks ground themselves against one another.

“What have I done?” Elidad wailed. “Ard! Brand! O Elohim, forgive me.”

Joash dropped the hot rock and backed up. In the dim torchlight heat waves wafted upward from the broken emeralds.

The grinding rock-sounds became louder. Joash grabbed his spear and strode to Adah. She stood by her fallen torch with a notched arrow and her eyes wide with fear and loathing.