Vaughn Heppner - Giants

“I will bring rocks,” the trolock told them. It turned with greater alacrity than before.

“I see no Nephilim,” Elidad told Joash.

“We must escape,” Gens said.

“Look,” Adah whispered.

Torchlight flickered by the obsidian throne. A being shouted with triumph and lifted the adamant shield. In his other hand was Draugr’s sword.

“At last it is mine!” shouted the huge being.

“No,” the trolock said. Its shuffle increased as it turned toward the throne.

“Mimir the Wise,” Joash whispered, who recognized the torchbearer.

The others gaped in amazement.

A black-bearded giant held a flickering torch. In his other hand was a mighty axe. He wore armor and knee-length pants. Beside Mimir there stood a strange being. The other was taller than Mimir, and his shoulders and chest were impossibly wide. His neck was thicker than any giant’s neck, and instead of skin or clothes he had tawny fur, like a sabertooth. His head was monstrous, although human-shaped. He had the ears of a cat and eyes that shined in the torchlight. From his snout-like mouth jutted two huge fangs. The eyes were wild, the voice alien sounding. It was as if a giant sabertooth had learned to walk upright and taught how to speak. The being was Tarag, a First Born, whose father had been the bene elohim Moloch the Hammer.

“Trespassers,” the trolock moaned. It was smaller than Tarag, but it was fashioned from stone. It shuffled toward battle.

“Who will win?” Herrek asked.

With mad eyes Elidad hurried across the emeralds. Foam flecked his lips.

“Can you shoot your arrow that far?” Joash asked Adah.

She nodded tightly.

“Be ready,” Joash said.

Herrek stared in wonder and respect at Joash.

“Trespasser,” the trolock moaned again.

Tarag roared as a sabertooth would, only louder, and with the vast adamant sword and shield he charged the trolock.

“If he uses the sword he will dash it to pieces against the trolock,” Herrek said.

“Perhaps not,” Adah said.

They didn’t need to wait to find out. Tarag swung the adamant sword of Draugr, and hewed a huge chunk of stone from the trolock as it staggered backward. Tarag snarled, advanced, and swung again. The trolock stumbled and almost lost its balance. Then it steadied, picked up a rock—one that Tarag had hewn from the trolock—and hurled it. The rock clanged off the adamant shield. The divinely made shield bore no mark or dent, even though the trolock had thrown the rock harder than any earthly catapult could. Still, such was the force that Tarag staggered backward.

The trolock bent down to pick up another rock.

Tarag, who regained his balance with a cat’s quickness, roared and swung again, hewing the legs from the rocky torso. The trolock groaned and then screamed. In a rush, something wispy rose out of the jumbled mass of stone. The wisp vanished, and like a mighty tree, the stones tumbled to the floor and lay in a lifeless heap.

“I’ve won!” Tarag roared.

“No!” Elidad screamed. “ I’ve won!” He launched himself at the monstrous First Born.

Tarag towered over Elidad as an adult would over a child. The First Born shielded himself from the first swing. Elidad’s sword shivered into three pieces. Tarag swept the adamant sword and sheered through shield, armor, and flesh. In two grisly pieces, Elidad fell dead beside the trolock.

“Fool!” Tarag roared.

Hissing sounds began from the stone forest.

Tarag turned to Mimir, who still held his torch. “The man’s spirit,” Tarag said. “It awakens more trolocks.”

Mimir paled.

The hissing sounds from beyond the throne increased. It was louder than it had been last time.

Tarag and Mimir began to strip the adamant chainmail from the lich.

“What now?” Gens whispered.

“We must flee this place,” Adah said, “while they’re occupied with the lich. Then we must hide from them in the cliffs outside.”

Tarag and Mimir worked off the adamant chainmail as fast as they could. Tarag already wore the helmet, and with the sword he turned as another trolock came for them. Tarag slew the trolock, and then he slew a third. From the stone forest came much hissing as more trolocks awakened.

Herrek led them away from the emerald pit and around the throne, trying to circle it to reach the stone forest. From there, they could flee.

Mimir spoke to Tarag. Tarag shrugged. Mimir spoke more urgently. Tarag picked up his sword and bounded at the party.

At Joash’s shouted warning, Adah shot a poisoned arrow into Tarag’s neck. The First Born yanked it out, his eyes shining in a strange way. Heat radiated from him. He laughed. The poison didn’t seem to affect him.

“Fools,” Tarag said. “My powers are greater than that.”

In desperation, Herrek hurled his spear. It bounced off Tarag’s shield. The massive First Born leaped forward and slammed his shield against Herrek, hurling the Champion of Teman Clan off his feet and into unconsciousness. Gens soon lay groaning. Tarag set aside his sword and snatched Adah, regarding her. She was like an over-sized doll in his hands.

Mimir approached. With strong cords, he bound Herrek and Gens. He regarded Joash, who stood back, his torch high, his spear ready for casting.

“Greetings,” Mimir said.

Joash nodded, but was too fearful to speak.

“Shall I eat you?” Tarag asked Adah.

“Leave the Singer alone!” Joash shouted.

Tarag applied pressure. Adah writhed and screamed. Joash shouted the Teman war cry and charged Tarag. Mimir knocked him to the ground.

Tarag eased his grip. Adah slumped over.

Tarag told Mimir, “They must not die here. It they do, their released spirits will awaken more trolocks.”

“But High One,” Mimir said, “they will speak of what they’ve seen. We must take them outside, well beyond the cursed area, and slay them.”

“Their chariots are smashed,” Tarag said, “their horses slain. We will take their water-skins and their weapons. They will perish before they reach the camp.”

“We must make certain they die, High One.”

Tarag seemed indifferent, but he said, “I will send some of my pets to slay them then.”

“High One, isn’t it wiser to make certain and do it ourselves?”

“We’ve no time,” Tarag snarled. “These are treacherous hills. Carrying bound humans all the way out of the cursed area will take time. No, we must move quickly now, lest the others grow suspicious.”

“As you will it, High One.”

Tarag set Adah on the ground. Mimir bound her as he had the others. Tarag returned to the lich, drawing off the chainmail.

Mimir regarded Joash. The Groom was the last conscious one of the party. He was the only one to have heard the exchange between Tarag and Mimir. As they’d talked, Joash had hidden his spear between two oily looking rocks, covering it with shale.

Mimir now stroked his long black beard. He glanced at Tarag, who almost had the adamant armor free. “You’re brave,” Mimir told Joash. “I knew you had a strong inner flame. Maybe I should take you with me and make you my body servant. In such a manner you would survive.”

“You honor me,” Joash managed to say.

“I do,” Mimir admitted. “You have spirit. You also have the ability to think.”

“But I cannot do as you suggest,” Joash said. “I loathe First Born, and loathe their children.” Nor could he stand being parted from Herrek, his hero. Nor could stand leaving Adah, either.

Mimir nodded. “Come, you carry the woman, I’ll carry the warriors. Together we’ll bring them outside the crypt so no more trolocks may feast upon new spirits. First, however, surrender all the water-skins.”