Vaughn Heppner - Giants

Gens had dropped his sacks. A longsword was now in his hand, and terror twisted his lean face.

Poor Elidad had sunk to his knees, with his face in his hands as he wept. “Ard. Brand. By my own hand.”

“We must leave this place,” Adah said.

The grinding rock-sounds were louder as Herrek strode from around the throne and to them. His face was pale, and his eyes staring with shock.

“A…” The Champion of Teman Clan was speechless with fear.

“Joash has broken the spell,” Adah said.

Herrek nodded, but couldn’t speak.

“We’ve been tricked,” she said.

“Nephilim await us outside the crypt,” Joash said.

They stared at him.

“I heard rocks clatter before,” Joash said, “when we were outside the cave. And I heard a sandal scrape across shale.”

A sibilant hiss came from somewhere in front of the throne. Maybe it came from the forest of strange-colored rocks.

Tears poured from Elidad’s bloodshot eyes. A vein throbbed on his forehead. He drew his dagger and put the point to his throat. “I no longer deserve to live.”

“No!” Herrek shouted. He dropped his spear and in a single leap, knocked the dagger from Elidad’s hand. “Redeem yourself by battle. You were bewitched. Joash says the Nephilim who did this await us outside. Slay them. In that way, you honor Ard and Brand.”

Elidad stared blankly.

“Destroy those who guided your hand,” Herrek said. “Do not let them profit by your bewitching.”

Elidad’s bloodshot eyes tightened as a mad look fell over him. He grinned in a frightening way. “Ard,” he said, his voice choked with violent emotion. “Brand.” With the stark grin set, Elidad picked up his spear and shield.

The sibilant hiss from the stone forest grew, so it sounded as if a kettle screamed over a fire.

Elidad recklessly laughed.

“A trolock lives,” Joash said. “I heard it walking before as we cleared the wall.”

The blood drained from Gens’s face, and he began to tremble.

Elidad laughed again. It was a strange, inhuman sound, filled with bitterness, but with the promise of violent release.

“Master,” said the hissing voice, the one hidden by the titanic throne.

Adah’s arrow clattered onto the stone floor. Her hands shook. She bit her lip, perhaps stifling a scream.

“The Nephilim used us to lure the trolocks,” Joash said. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Gens wiped away sweat, even though the crypt was as cold as death. A bizarre noise escaped his throat.

Herrek breathed deeply.

“We face an abomination,” Adah whispered, her voice so low that Joash had to strain to hear.

“We must kill it,” Joash said.

Gens gave a strangled laugh. “We shall all perish.”

“Good,” Elidad said. He marched toward the hissing sound.

“Wait,” Herrek whispered.

“I’m done waiting,” Elidad said.

Joash studied the others. When the emeralds had bewitched them they’d been too ignorant to be frightened. Now, thrust into a place of hideous wickedness, their courage had fled. He’d had time to adjust, and gather his bravery. He, therefore, must lead until their courage returned.

“We must help Elidad,” Joash said. “We must all fight together.”

They stared at him as if he was raving mad.

“Pick up your arrow,” he told Adah.

She blinked several times. With shaking hands she scooped the arrow and notched it to her bowstring.

“Follow me,” Joash said, hurrying after Elidad, who had no torch.

In a moment Joash heard the clink of chainmail. Herrek followed him. Adah hurried after the Champion of Teman Clan. Gens, with torch and longsword, did likewise.

Joash caught up with Elidad, who stood beside the towering throne. Elidad smiled, but there was nothing of sanity in it.

Adah gasped.

The pile of weird-colored stones nearest the throne moved from side to side. The thing hissed to itself. Ever so slowly, the rocks tightened. A catapult-rock head lifted from the mass, and with its obsidian-chip eyes it stared at them. At first, the eyes were dull. Then something entered the eyes.

Joash’s stomach curled with loathing. Across the gulf, he sensed madness. A tormented spirit animated the strung-together pile of rocks. How many centuries had passed since the spirit had first been trapped in the magical construct? An age had passed as it haunted this final abode of its grim creator. Destruction would be a gift—the trolock was an abomination.

“Trespassers,” the trolock said in a lifeless voice.

“We’ll leave,” Joash told the trolock, wondering if he could negotiate with it.

The stones ground against each other as the trolock rose and stood to its full height, eight feet tall, with huge, sloping shoulders. The catapult-rock head was bigger than their chests.

The trolock shuffled toward them. “Trespassers. You profane this place.”

Elidad roared, lifting his shield. He hurled his spear. The iron smashed against the catapult-rock head, but the trolock didn’t stagger backward. The spear clattered uselessly to the ground, and the trolock made a mirthless sound. It ground its feet upon the stony floor and shuffled toward them.

Elidad drew his sword with a shing of steel. “Vile abomination of the pit, I’ll slay you or die in the attempt.”

“Wait!” Joash said. He lifted his torch and peered into the gloom. The massive door they’d come through moved. Joash turned toward Herrek and gave him a pleading look. Herrek stepped to Elidad and put his hand on his shoulder.

Elidad glared at him.

Herrek whispered into his ear as the trolock advanced.

“Back,” Joash said to the others.

“We’re all doomed,” Gens said.

“Not yet,” Joash said.

Adah gave him a wintry grin. “What do you know?”

“Retreat,” Joash said.

Elidad, who reluctantly followed Herrek, retreated with them toward the emerald pit. The trolock followed, his tread that of final doom.

When Gens reached the edge of the emerald pit, he spat on the floor. “Now what?”

“Now we run across the emeralds to the other side,” Joash said.

Adah nodded in understanding. She stepped into the bin of mineral wealth and crunched across to the farther shore, twelve feet away. Soon she stood on a thin ledge of stone against the crypt wall.

“What do you hope to gain?” Elidad asked, wearily.

“The stone trolock will sink into the emeralds, as if it’s quicksand,” Joash said.

“Ah,” Adah said.

The trolock shuffled past the throne, and to them. The abomination stopped at the emerald pit’s edge.

“I will wait,” the trolock said, stonily.

Joash trembled. A mere twelve feet separated them from the abomination. If he was wrong about what he’d seen, then their torches would shortly gutter and die. Then they would be cast into darkness. How, then, would they keep their sanity?

“What is your plan?” Herrek asked.

Joash whispered it.

Herrek licked his lips, muttering.

Elidad laughed in a doleful way. “And if you’re wrong?”

Joash shrugged.

“You think like a warrior,” Herrek said. “If we survive, I will continue to teach you the spear. Then I will teach you the sword.”

Survival seemed so impossible that Joash didn’t really care about Herrek’s promise. However he nodded his thanks in order to keep up Herrek’s courage.

The trolock grunted, as if it had thought of something. It scooped a fistful of emeralds and hurled them. Joash groaned and slid down the wall. Other emeralds clattered against Herrek and Elidad’s shields.

“Group together,” Herrek ordered.

Hands dragged Joash to his feet as more emeralds rattled against the shields.