Vaughn Heppner: Giants

The chariot squadron fled down a long incline of grass. Wheels clattered over shadowed rocks. Runners yelled and hung on with a white-gripped intensity. Seven tall giants sprinted after them, although the giants were still too far off for anyone to see their features. The speed at which the giants ran was unnatural.

“Magic is at work,” Sungara said. He no longer grinned but ran with determination.

Joash knew that Sungara was right. No one should be able to sprint so hard for so long, not armored in heavy mail and bearing shields.

Lord Uriah roared a sharp command. His team broke into a gallop. The others followed close behind. Many charioteers looked back. The giants didn’t diminish, but seemed incredibly to keep pace with them.

“At least they can’t outrun us,” Gens hissed.

“We should turn and face them,” Herrek said.

“Against seven giants?” Joash asked, before he could keep his thoughts to himself.

“Better that, than be driven like cattle!” Herrek snarled.

Joash saw that Sungara had dropped behind. The Huri could pace trotting horses, but not galloping ones. The Huri must have recognized his plight, for he veered and raced away from both chariots and giants. Joash wondered if he’d ever see Sungara again.

“The sea!” roared the foremost driver.

Herrek’s chariot topped the slight crest. Joash felt his stomach lurch at the sudden upward shift. Then they rattled toward the vast Suttung Sea. They shifted to the left and raced through a field of waist-high flowers. The flowers had already closed their petals, as if averting their eyes from the spectacle. To Joash’s relief he saw the two-masted Tiras and a horse-barge working their way toward the darkening shore. Surely now it would simply be a matter of racing into the surf and swimming for it. The horses were tired, but shortly the race would be over. They’d almost won.

In that instant, as the squadron rattled through the field of flowers, monstrous sabertooths arose from hiding and charged the chariots in the flanks. Surprise was complete. The dogs were in the rear of the company, and the horses had been driven too hard for them to have sensed the danger.

“The giants have herded us into ambush!” Gens screamed. Other men cried out as they drove through the gauntlet of death. Joash saw a chariot splinter under the impact of a shaggy monster. The warrior flipped backward and landed on his head. A loud snap told of a broken neck. The driver, Shemul, screamed, as heavy claws raked his face and chest. More feral sabertooths arose. Herrek, his teeth flashing as he roared his battle cry, leaned against the rail and thrust. A sabertooth tumbled head over heels. Gens barely turned the team from another snarling beast. Joash thought to feel the hot breath as the sabertooth’s jaws clicked together less than a foot from his back. Spittle landed on his neck. He clenched his teeth as he dearly held onto the vibrating railing.

In the growing twilight, the monsters seemed larger and more powerful than normal. Joash’s knees almost gave out in fright. The dogs ran into the gauntlet and helped divert the sabertooths, but fully half the squadron disappeared under the horde of savage, silky-coated beasts. Then the ragged chariot remnant broke free and raced for the beach. Behind them, the sabertooths followed, led by a frightfully ugly brute with a scar across his snout.

Joash yearned for the sea. The small waves disappeared into the horizon, and the smell of salt was strong. Seagulls soared overhead, crying out to one another as they watched the spectacle below.

Gens shouted, “Boarding a ship while in the presence of enemies is the most difficult maneuver possible.”

Herrek nodded grimly, his bloody lance ready.

The Tiras rose and fell with the wind. Bare-chested sailors worked heavy ropes. Big oars, five to a side, moved in a slow rhythm. They sluggishly propelled the Tiras toward shore. Closer in was a wide barge, armed men milling near the prow.

“Can’t the Tarshmen move any faster?” a driver wailed.

Lord Uriah led the way. He charged into the sea. Behind him the others followed. The beasts snarled with rage, hesitant. Some of them followed, despite their hatred of getting wet. They no longer bounded with savage enthusiasm, but picked their way through the water. Each time a wave washed against them, the sabertooths snarled.

Herrek shouted encouragement. “The advantage is ours. Look how only our feet are wet while the beasts’ are drenched. In our chariots we’re drier than they.” The Champion heaved javelins at the floundering sabertooths.

Others took heart, and followed his example. The sabertooths, baffled for the moment, retreated from the sea.

Elonites cheered.

“What now, Lord?” Herrek shouted.

Along with many others, Lord Uriah watched the sabertooths retreat to shore. The beasts padded up and down it, perhaps working themselves into a killing rage in order to try again. Joash turned seaward. The barge moved close to shore. Tall Elonites, with shields and spears, and small sailors with barbed darts and long knives, swarmed in readiness. Several rowboats packed with Huri had been launched from the Tiras , which stayed farther out because of its size.

The Tiras wasn’t a small coastal trader, but a big merchantman, used for city-to-city trade. Only the grain ships of Nearer Tarsh were larger. A wooden and decked-over cabin rose in the back third of the Tiras . Built directly above the bow was a small forecastle. In the forecastle were sailors and a dart-throwing catapult.

Lord Uriah roared, “Grooms and runners, wade out to the barge!”

Joash jumped off the chariot and into the chilly sea. The bottom was sandy. He waded and saw seaweed drifting toward him. A wave slapped him in the face, and he tasted salt. Then, he no longer felt the bottom and had to swim. Soon, strong hands helped him onto the barge. Sailors rowed awkward oars, bringing the flat-bottomed vessel toward shore. Adah shivered beside him, and then so did Amery, Beker, and several others.

In the distance came the sound of a horn. It wasn’t a ringing trumpet blast, like Elonite horns, but a flat and ominous sound. More horns blared. The giants neared. Then, a terrible sight filled the humans with dread. Seven giants topped the rise and ran clanking toward the sea. They stopped upon seeing the Tiras and the chariots in the water.

A driver groaned in fear, and then said hoarsely, “I see Ygg the Terrible.”

“Ah, we’re doomed,” cried another man. “Gaut Windrunner stands with them.”

“I see Motsognir Stone Hands.”

The giants glistened with sweat, and their chests heaved. Each towering Nephilim was different from the other. Motsognir Stone Hands had mighty bronze wristlets that glinted in the waning sunlight. Ygg the Terrible wore a horned helmet, and he had plaited his long dark hair into five strands. He wore a necklace of human skulls. Black-bearded Mimir lifted his axe and pointed it at the Tiras . He spoke to the others. They nodded. Ymir, a one-eyed giant, wiped his face with a cloth that could have been a man’s cloak. Mimir spoke again sharply. The others lifted their weapons. Ygg the Terrible ran forward and heaved his spear into the air. It soared high above the chariots and over the barge.

As the spear sailed, Ygg roared, “FATHER JOTNAR POSSESSES YOU ALL!”

Joash shivered, as if icy water splashed against his face. The barge-rowers groaned with fear. The charioteers moaned and seemed to wilt as a plucked flower left in the sun’s blaze. Many of the warriors turned away from Ygg, as if he’d become too awful to look on.

Had the giant cast a spell? It seemed colder, the waning sunlight less bright. The warriors around Joash moved sluggishly, as if already defeated. Only those nearest him still had some spirit left.