Vaughn Heppner - Giants

“Hurry,” Joash hissed at Ard.

The water deepened even more, so Joash waded up to his shoulders. Ahead of them, the stallion swam faster, reached a shallow area, and plowed through the muddy bottom. Foam flecked the horse’s mouth as his nostrils flared. Then the stallion pulled himself out of the mud and crashed through reeds. He had reached the other side of the marsh.

“What will we do now?” Ard asked.

“He might snag the rope somewhere,” Joash said. He was beginning to wonder what had the stallion so panicked.

A loud roar froze them into immobility. The black stallion rose up, pawing the air. Another roar sounded, and then a huge sabertooth leaped onto the stallion’s back. They went down and more sabertooths rushed in. In moments, it was over.

Joash ducked lower in the water, while Harn stuck close.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ard hissed.

“Wait,” Joash said. “The water will protect us from the sabertooths.”

“Are you crazy?”

“The sabertooths are like the lions back home, and they hate to get wet.” Joash now thought of the Plains of Elon as home. He’d come a long way since escaping Balak.

Huge sabertooths with luxurious gray fur snarled at each other as they dug their fanged mouths into the horsemeat. The ground was solid there, about a hundred feet away.

“I’ve seen enough,” whispered Ard. He and Joash had slid behind a clump of reeds.

“Wait,” Joash said. Without being aware of it, he was grinning. The big cats were beautiful. This was amazing.

“Wait for what? Do you want those monsters to eat us?”

“They’re feasting,” Joash said. “We’re not in danger.” He studied the huge cats. Then his eyes narrowed and he tapped his chin.

“What is it?” asked Ard, who glanced at him.

“I haven’t seen those sabertooths before.”

“Huh?”

“Haven’t you noticed all the sabertooth tracks we’ve come across?” Joash asked.

“When?”

“The past few days,” Joash said.

Ard shook his head.

“I’ve been noticing them.”

“So?” asked Ard.

“So, a pride of sabertooths are like the prides of lions back home. That’s what Herrek told me, and from what I’ve seen of these sabertooths, that’s true.”

Ard grunted, as if saying he should have realized. Everyone knew that Joash loved animals.

“Each pride has a territory,” Joash explained, “and they fight off other prides.”

Through reeds, Ard peered at the feasting cats. “Are you saying one pride of sabertooths has invaded the territory of another?”

Joash nodded.

“What does that mean?” Ard asked.

“Strange things are supposed to happen in Giant Land. I’d better tell Herrek about this.”

“Good idea,” Ard said. “Let’s go.”

Joash took one last look. The sabertooths were rakish, with powerful shoulders and low hindquarters. Joash spied one especially huge sabertooth, an old monster that stood at least four feet tall at the shoulders. The great cat limped, favoring his left paw. Joash recalled the sabertooth footprints he’d seen yesterday. The footprints had shown him a strangely crippled left paw.

Old Three-Paws, Joash thought to himself, unconsciously naming the beast.

“Let’s go,” Ard insisted.

Joash slowly backed into the deeper water.

“Wait,” Ard said.

Joash raised his eyebrows. Unlike the others, he was black-haired, darker-skinned, and lanky. As a rule, Elonites were red or blond-haired, fair-skinned, and muscular.

“I don’t want to go through the marsh again,” Ard said. “Let’s skirt around it?”

“We dropped our javelins, remember?”

“We’ve got knives,” Ard said, “and you have Harn. Besides, if we run into anything dangerous we can wade into the marsh.”

Joash glanced over his shoulder. The sabertooths were already hidden. He wondered how long until hyenas spotted circling vultures and came to investigate the kill. He breathed deeply. He was tired. They’d been running hard today. He didn’t really want to wade through any more marsh either.

“This way,” Ard said, climbing onto solid ground.

After a long, circuitous route, they pushed through tall bulrushes and came upon a clearing. To their amazement, they saw silver-haired Elidad and his chariot driver. Elidad sat on the chariot, reading something like a scroll.

“What’s he doing here?” Joash asked. “Lord Uriah said chariots are always supposed to drive in teams.”

Ard snorted. “So go tell Elidad that.”

Joash didn’t want a whipping. Elidad wasn’t like Herrek. Elidad lived the difference between Elonite nobility and everyone else.

As they approached Elidad looked up. It seemed he scowled, but Joash was too far away to tell. The warrior thrust whatever he read into his broad belt, jumped up, and patted his driver on the back. The chariot soon rolled toward them.

The two-man chariots of Elon were light and maneuverable, a terror on the battlefield. The chariot flooring had matted weaving like a basket, which helped absorb shock when the wheels struck rocks or uneven ground. The wheels were bronze-rimmed with four narrow spokes and balanced toward the rear of the cart so it could turn sharply. Because of its light construction made for speed, a warrior like Elidad or Herrek could carry such a chariot on his back for many hours.

“Where’s my stallion?” Elidad demanded.

Neither runner said a word.

“Speak,” the charioteer said. He had long, silver hair, bulk like a bear—although nothing like Balak—and he had too many battle scars to be called handsome.

Joash nudged Ard.

Ard bowed his head. “Lord, sabertooths pulled down the stallion.”

When Elidad didn’t start yelling, Joash looked up. Elidad was an impatient warrior, known for his temper, although few were braver. He wore gem-encrusted bands from Ir around his thick arms, and a sea-green Shalmaneser cloak fluttered from his shoulders. His eyes appeared glassy, perhaps from too much drink.

“The stallion is dead, Lord,” Ard said.

Elidad shook his head and grinned. “Climb aboard,” he told Ard.

The unwritten custom among charioteers was that low-ranked runners always ran, never rode, in the chariot. Starting from the bottom, the hierarchy was runner, groom, driver, and the pinnacle of an Elonite warrior’s career, charioteer.

“Did you hear me?” Elidad growled.

Ard scrambled to obey, and hopped aboard the chariot.

“What about me?” Joash asked.

“Return to the hill,” Elidad said. “Some grooms are waiting for you to straggle in.”

Joash grabbed Harn’s collar and dragged him along.

“Not that way!” Elidad shouted.

Surprised, Joash looked up.

“Leave the clearing,” Elidad said, “and head directly onto the plains.”

“Yes, warrior,” Joash said, knowing that meant going through the marsh.

Without another word, Elidad nodded at his driver. A whip cracked, and the chariot pulled away, taking Ard with it. As Elidad headed north, Ard and Joash exchanged a last worried glance at the charioteer’s odd behavior.

Curiosity won out over obedience. Joash didn’t head directly onto the plains as ordered. First, checking that Elidad had left, Joash hurried into the clearing. He followed the chariot-wheel tracks of crushed grass and flowers, two parallel lines of flattened plants that slowly rose to their former position. Some stalks had snapped, like a tall dandelion white with seedpods. The bottom of the snapped stalk oozed milky fluids, and it would never rise again.

Joash halted when he saw the skeleton, and knew at a glance that this is what Elidad had wanted hidden. The bones were white, cracked with age, and spotted with dry lichen. It was a giant’s skeleton, with a smashed skull. Footprints showed where Elidad had walked around it. Upturned soil and scattered finger-bones indicated that Elidad had taken something from it.