Giants (13 page)

Joash gazed into the heart of the emeralds. They glowed with cold evil. He grew faint, seeing clear and enticing images in his mind. “Bewitching,” he whispered, thinking about what Adah had said before. Elidad was bewitched. And here was the source of it! Joash willed himself to look down. He couldn’t! The emeralds held him. Rage and fear drove him. He was a free man. No one or no
thing
controlled him. By an act of will he tore away his gaze and stared at the fire, thinking furiously.

“Joash?” Elidad called.

Joash looked into the warrior’s avaricious eyes.

“What do you see?”

“Gems to put on a scabbard that I would wear at my side,” Joash whispered. And he
did
see that. It was a crystal-clear image. He would become the world’s greatest swordsman.

Elidad smiled, nodded, and turned toward Herrek.

Joash immediately turned from the gems. What was occurring here?

“This,” Elidad said, pulling the parchment at his belt, “is a map I found under the pouch. It shows me where there are even more gems.”

“A... a map?” Herrek asked.

Elidad handed him the parchment.

Herrek unrolled it, frowned, and handed it across the fire to Adah. Joash almost reached up and snatched it. He would burn it. But he was too afraid. So he glanced at the map as it passed him. It showed a cave in the hills. He supposed that in this cave was a glittering pile of gems.

Adah studied the map. After a time she smiled. “This is a burial place. Notice these symbols.” She pointed to crooked crosses and upside down ciphers. Beside those marks were many others. The script looked sinister. “Someone, or something, very powerful was entombed here.”

“Evil ones?” Herrek asked.

“I believe so.”

For a moment, Elidad looked troubled. “You said something about Nephilim. I’d not thought of that before. Do you think some will be here?”

“Yes,” Adah said. “I relish the idea of stealing Nephilim secrets.”

Herrek nodded. “I relish the idea of slaying Nephilim.”

Elidad stroked his chin. “Might they bar us from the treasure?”

Adah lifted her eyebrows. “I will outwit them,” she boasted.

Herrek laughed. “I am the champion. To me will fall our ancient foes.”

Gens nodded. “None drive a better team than I. We will bewilder them with our tactics and drive them from the cave.”

“Yes,” Elidad said. “My cunning is superior to theirs.”

Joash couldn’t believe what he was hearing. They were mad. “We must return to the camp and get help,” he said. “It’s foolish to face Nephilim on our own.”

“You hold a spear,” Elidad told him. “Do you fear to wield it?”

“It isn’t that,” Joash said, looking to the others for help.

“Are you a coward?” Elidad asked.

“He’s no coward,” Herrek said. “Lord Uriah raised him from the rank of runner to that of groom. And Joash spoke with a giant, with Mimir the Wise.”

“Ah,” Elidad said.

“Bu-but, don’t we need help in order to slay more Nephilim?” Joash asked.

“The lad speaks wisdom,” Adah said. She was frowning. “We
do
need help.” It sounded as if she was surprised that she hadn’t thought of it herself.

“Perhaps so,” Elidad said smoothly. “But we have no time. Our ships will arrive. Then we must leave Giant Land with our stallions in order to take them to the market festival.”

“True,” Herrek said.

“We must strike quickly,” Elidad said.

“But...” Adah tried to frame her question. “What if the Nephilim overpower us?”

“Bah!” Elidad said. “We’re more cunning than that. We can slip past them, steal the treasure, and then we will slip away.”

“No,” Adah said, “our purpose is to gather Nephilim secrets, not gather stones.”

“No,” Herrek said. “We must slaughter the ancient enemy. I must show them they face the champion of the expedition.”

“Then we will slay them,” Elidad said.

The others pondered his words, as if he’d made a wise and thoughtful suggestion.

“Yes,” Herrek said. “We will slay them.”

Adah grinned. “Truth has been spoken. It is within our power to do this deed.”

Then it came to Joash that they were drunk, perhaps not on wine or strong spirits, but on the evil magic that poured from the emeralds. Perhaps the emeralds were a trick of Tarag’s. He swallowed. It seemed they were being drawn to the treasure cave. Surely Tarag waited for them there. He must go to the cave, too.

No, no, Joash told himself. This was a fool’s journey. They had to go back, to get help.

“When do we leave?” Gens asked.

“Now,” Elidad said. “The sabertooths have stopped me for too long.”

Joash was frantic. Did the emeralds truly work an evil spell on his friends? And if so, how could he break this spell? He hadn’t yet wondered why the spell, if spell it was, hadn’t worked on him as it had on the others.

“Joash, hitch the horses,” Elidad said.

“Not yet,” Herrek said. “They need to graze and rest first.”

“But—”

“No,” Herrek said. “If we’re to slay the Nephilim who lie in wait at the cave, then we’ll make the attack as wisely as we can.”

Elidad breathed deeply, putting the gems away. “Very well. First, the stallions will graze. But let us not wait long, lest the Nephilim depart before we arrive.”

“Agreed,” Herrek said.

“In an hour then?” Elidad asked.

“Yes, in an hour.”

Chapter Nine

The Lonely Groom

Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter.

-- Proverbs 24:11

When Herrek gave the word Joash unhobbled Asher and Pondon and led them toward the lake. They snorted and resisted his attempts to take them into the sun’s glare. He looked over at Gens. The lean driver enticed Galay and Geirrod with carrots. Galay caught and snapped off half of Gens’s carrot, but in so doing, stepped into the sunlight. Soon Gens had both horses drinking.

Joash didn’t have any carrots. He looked around and spied some flowers the horses loved. He picked a handful and tickled their noses with them. Asher tried to nibble the flowers. Joash backed up. Asher tossed his head. He tickled the stallion’s nose again. The stallion moved halfway into the sunlight and caught hold of the flowers. Joash ripped his half away, then brushed Pondon’s nose. In no time Asher and Pondon drank lake-water.

Joash kept a lookout for the shark as he waded his way beside Gens. The driver picked up a smooth stone and skipped it across the water.

“Good cast.”

Gens grunted and found another stone.

“Those were impressive emeralds,” Joash said.

Gens smiled.

“Do you think they could have been set under the old giant’s skeleton as a lure?”

Gens gave him a glance that said he was a bit simple. “This is Giant Land. Here wonders are said to abound.”

“Then you aren’t worried that I spoke to Mimir? That we know a giant, said to be wise in their cunning wiles, was nearby when all this happened?”

Gens skipped his second stone, shrugged.

“Surely Mimir must know about this cave,” Joash said.

“Maybe.”

“Tarag must know about this cave as well.”

Gens shook his head. “You saw how we slew Old Three-Paws and chased off the other sabertooths. That was warrior’s work. If you hope to wield your spear with as much deadliness, then you must ponder chariot tactics more than the comings and goings of legendary foes.”

Now that the emeralds were tucked away in Elidad’s pouch, Joash had hoped their power would be less. He asked, “You truly aren’t worried?”

Gens snorted at the idea.

“Maybe we should go back to camp and get help?”

Gens flushed, anger filling his eyes. “Are you a fool?”

Joash didn’t reply.

“Bah.” Gens spat into the water. “You asked if I’m worried, then the answer is yes. I’m worried others will gain the treasure before we do.” He stared at Joash. “Don’t you understand what can be done with such treasure?”

Joash backed up a step, seeing a vein on Gens’s forehead throb with passion.

“Once I own such treasure I’ll be able to search the world for the greatest stallions alive. I’ll retrace the old bloodlines. I’ll find mares that are descended from the Shining Ones’ steeds of yore and breed them.” Gens’s lips drew down. “But you; you want to slink away and let others take what’s mine. You hope, in the secret place of your heart, that I never own such wonderful herds.”

“Th-that’s not true.”

“No?”

Joash shook his head.

Gens nodded. “That is good. Yes, very good.” He glanced at Galay and Geirrod. “These are good Asvarn stallions, well-trained and descended from an ancient bloodline. But these are not the steeds that will blaze the name of Gens into the ages. No...”

Gens suddenly, and very oddly it seemed to Joash, picked up another stone and skipped it. He seemed to be in a dream world, meditating perhaps on how he would breed the greatest horses in the world.

Joash followed Gens back to the chariots. Because of the heat they left off the horse-cloaks as they hitched Asher, Pondon, Galay, and Geirrod to the chariots.

Elidad paced near the burnt-out fire, his chainmail jangling in time to his steps. He knotted his left hand into a fist and ground it against the palm of his right hand. He watched Joash, almost suspiciously, it seemed. Soon Elidad inspected the hitching.

“You work slowly,” Elidad said, breathing down Joash’s shoulder.

Joash didn’t look up as he tightened a strap. The bear-like warrior frightened him. A sudden thought stilled Joash’s hands.

“What is it?” Elidad asked.

Joash straightened. Elidad’s blue eyes were bloodshot and suspicious, and his skin looked hotter than it should be. Joash’s throat constricted before his accusatory words could slip out.

Elidad advanced until their faces almost touched. Joash felt Elidad’s hot breath on his cheeks. “Make sure you work quickly,
Groom
.”

Fear made Joash back up against Asher’s side. The stallion turned and nudged his shoulder. Joash hardly noticed. His heart pounded and his eyes were wide. Had Elidad slain Brand?

Elidad’s hand flew to Joash’s biceps. The thick fingers tightened. Joash struggled to free himself.

“Elidad!” Herrek shouted.

Elidad turned but didn’t release his hold.

“Let go of my groom,” Herrek said, striding toward them.

With an oath, Elidad released Joash and puffed his chest. “He works slowly,” the stocky warrior said.

Herrek glanced at Joash.

Joash rubbed his biceps, wondering how close he’d come to being struck.

“Groom!”

Joash looked up.

“Were you working slowly?” Herrek asked.

“No, warrior,” Joash said, even though he had been.

“Liar!” Elidad roared. He buffeted Joash, knocking him against Asher.

Herrek wrapped his hand around his sword-hilt. “Do not strike him again.”

Elidad sneered, “Do you say I lied when I told you he worked slowly?”

“I say you are mistaken,” Herrek said. “Now, stand aside or hitch your own team.”

The sneer deepened, but Elidad stepped away.

Herrek waited until Elidad was out of earshot. Then, he turned. “Make certain you don’t dally, Groom.”

Joash nodded miserably. He thought he knew something the others didn’t. Old Three-Paws hadn’t slain Brand, but Elidad. He couldn’t prove it, but the worm of suspicion had burrowed deep. And if that was true, if Elidad had slain his own driver—

What power did the emeralds have? And who had given them the power? An evil one, that much was certain. Joash wondered why this hidden evil-one wanted them at the cave. He tightened a harness-buckle and decided that maybe Adah knew more than she’d been saying. All trip long she’d been hinting at things. Maybe now that she was under the emeralds’ power...

Whom did he fool? He was just a groom, untrained even in the use of his spear. What was he
supposed to do? How could he overcome evil magic when a champion like Herrek and a singer like Adah, had fallen under its spell? And why hadn’t he fallen under the emeralds’ power? Did it have anything to do with what Mimir had told him? Mimir had said his flame was high. What did that mean?

“Please help me, Elohim,” Joash whispered under his breath. “Give me the wisdom and the strength to do what’s right.”

“Move aside,” Elidad shouted. “Quit mumbling to yourself.”

Joash skipped aside as Elidad flicked the reins. Asher and Pondon whinnied and cantered away from the lake. Joash hurried to his kit, slung it on, picked up his spear, and jogged after the chariot. As he stepped out of the shade the sun blasted him. The trip, he feared, would be a grueling one.

He tried to put aside his worries as he concentrated upon jogging. He moved one foot after the other, arms swinging in rhythm. The spear didn’t allow that, however. It was big and heavy. He held it with both hands, in front of his stomach. His shoulders swung in rhythm, but soon they were tired. He needed to make a sling. Then he could carry the spear across his back.