Leviathan (Lost Civilizations: 2) (3 page)

“He did more,” Lord Uriah said. “His inner flame acted as a shield. Because of it, you were able to overcome the grip of fear that Ygg had put on you and your warriors.”

“But, why won’t they think
I’m
the one with the inner flame?” Herrek asked.

“Because it was Joash who acted first,” Lord Uriah said. “First, he rowed at the giants. He gathered charioteers, and pulled you aboard. The giants witnessed that. Now, they will recall it at their leisure. They are wise concerning the ways of magic, and those who can thwart magic.”

Herrek stared at his hands.

“When I saw Gaut Windrunner on the beach, I knew he’d used his gift on the others,” Lord Uriah said. “They were fatigued because seven giants had partaken in Gaut’s lone gift. The gift is not all-powerful, but it is supernaturally mighty. Tarag must only have sent seven giants, because that’s all Gaut could reasonably gift for speed.”

Joash poured himself ale, and drank a hearty swallow.

“You were able to slay Gaut Windrunner,” Lord Uriah told Herrek, “because of Joash’s presence. Yours was a mighty feat, and the other giants noted it. Well are you called the Giant-Slayer, and it would now be an ill thing for you to fall into their hands.” Lord Uriah stared at Joash. “But, it would be even worse for you. They now know you, and they know you shielded us against their magic.”

Joash drank more ale.

“Here, put that down,” Zillith said in concern.

“I’m curious about the one called Stone Hands,” Captain Maharbal said. “What is his gift?”

“To turn stones into bread,” Lord Uriah said. “The bread is steaming hot inside, and said to be the finest on Earth. A host that marches in Motsognir’s company need never fear starvation.”

“That sounds like a useful gift,” Captain Maharbal said.

“But evilly begotten,” Zillith said.

“Of course,” Captain Maharbal agreed.

“Are you saying I no longer have a choice in becoming a Seraph?” Joash asked.

“You always have a choice,” Lord Uriah said.

Joash shook his head. “I don’t understand the part of a bright inner flame. What does that really mean?”

Lord Uriah sighed. “That magic has little effect over you, and little effect on those around you.”

“Like the bewitching emeralds?” asked Joash.

“Exactly.”

“But the others were bewitched,” Joash said.

“Not as bewitched as they could have been,” Lord Uriah said.

“Ah,” Herrek said. “That explains why Elidad was more deeply in its power.”

“What about the magical gifts given to each Nephilim by his divine blood?” Joash asked. “Do those also lack power over me?”

“Yes,” Lord Uriah said.

“Then, how could Mimir have seen my flame?”

“I’m sure he saw nothing. From that, he deduced it was high.”

Joash grimaced. “Why is my flame so high?”

“Why do some men have great athletic ability?” Lord Uriah asked. “Why are some men fast and others smart? The answer is because that’s how they were born. Maybe they can increase their abilities, or destroy them through misuse. In just such a way, you have a high inner fire. You were born with it. It’s up to you to decide how to use it.” Lord Uriah gave Joash a wry smile. “Now you understand why Mimir desires you for a servant.”

“Hm,” Joash said.

“And now you understand why it’s important to us you choose Elohim’s service,” Lord Uriah said. “We’re in desperate need of help, your help, Joash. Too many of our kind have died. Ever since the Great Sundering, our numbers have dwindled, and it seems harder and harder to find new Seraphs. We, sitting here, have probably gathered more Seraphs than were at Naram the Prophet’s deathbed.”

“Sungara the Huri was also a Seraph,” Captain Maharbal said. “He came to me two months ago, bringing many of his clansmen.”

“Where is he?” Zillith asked.

Joash told them how Sungara had fled in a different direction as the chariots had rattled for the beach.

“Maybe Sungara is still alive,” Zillith said. “Maybe he hid from the giants.”

“Unlikely,” Lord Uriah said. He sipped more ale. “He was a brave man.”

“To Sungara,” Captain Maharbal said.

Joash wasn’t convinced that Sungara had died.

“He should have boarded my chariot,” Herrek said. He too toasted Sungara’s memory.

After a time, Joash asked, “If I became a Seraph, what would be my goal?”

“To discover why Tarag took the adamant armor and weapons,” Lord Uriah said.

“How?”

“At the moment, I do not know.” Lord Uriah looked at the others. “Do any of you?”

“He would start by asking for Elohim’s help,” Zillith said.

“Maybe we should aid Lod,” Adah said. “Naram the Prophet said that when all else baffles us to search out Irad. Maybe Joash should go to Shamgar.”

Captain Maharbal laughed. “No, Singer, you, I and anyone else who went to Shamgar in a Further Tarsh ship, would be taken captive, and put on the slave block. You must never forget about the Oracle of Gog.”

“Then, what of Lod?” Adah asked.

“Indeed,” said Lord Uriah, “I fear for him.”

Joash stared at his mug. He wanted to serve Elohim. He believed in Him, and worshiped Him, but becoming a Seraph was something else entirely. Giants waited to take their revenge on him, yet he was supposed to find out why Tarag had gone to Draugr’s Crypt. The very idea that
he
find out sounded impossible.

“Tell me again what Lod said,” Lord Uriah told Maharbal.

“Lod asked for a ship to wait at Gandvik Rock. He would take a longboat, enter Shamgar and secretly meet with dubious allies. He hoped to return with Irad, and sail north to where we now wait. He wanted four weeks, but I told the ship’s captain to wait eight, if needed.”

“We do not have enough drinking water to wait more than a day or two longer.” Lord Uriah drummed his fingers on the sea chest. “I don’t dare send a party inland to the old camp for water. Surely, sabertooths and giants await us there. No, I must gain fresh water elsewhere. That could prove troublesome.”

“Let’s begin today to journey to Gandvik Rock,” Zillith suggested.

“Captain Maharbal doesn’t have enough cargo space for all the people, and the remaining stallions,” Lord Uriah said.

“Leave the horses on the steppes,” Zillith said.

“It may come to that.”

“What?” Herrek asked, outraged.

“Or, leave some of your people on the sandbar,” Captain Maharbal said. “I can send a ship for them later.”

Lord Uriah shook his head. “A storm might wash away the sandbar, or maybe the giants will use the barge. No, I’ll take everyone.”

“Where does Tarag take the adamant armor and weapons?” Zillith asked. “We must discover the destination soon, before Tarag can implement whatever his plan is.”

“Allow me a chariot and horses,” Herrek said. “I’ll trail Tarag.”

“Not on the steppes,” Lord Uriah said. “Sabertooths would slay you. It is dangerous to track First Born. Necromancy could be turned on you, or worse, you would be captured and questioned.”

“Joash would protect us from magic,” Herrek said. “And, do not be so certain the sabertooths could catch us. If we have eight horses per chariot, I could ensure fresh teams at all times.”

“To wait is folly,” Adah told Lord Uriah. “We must act before being acted upon.”

Captain Maharbal grunted agreement.

“We’ll wait another two days,” Lord Uriah said, “in the hope that Lod was successful, and even now approaches us in your second ship, Captain.”

Zillith shook her head.

“Speak your mind,” Lord Uriah told her.

“I fear for Lod,” she said. “He has gone into the lion’s den.”

“And this Irad,” Adah said. “Who is he? And why is he so important?”

“Yes... Irad,” Lord Uriah said. “Who is this mysterious Irad? And will Lod be able to find him? Let us hope so, and quickly.”

Chapter Four

Mammoths

“Look at the behemoth, which I made along with you and which feeds on grass like an ox.”

-- Job 40:15

Joash glumly sat in a longboat. After the council meeting, Adah had avoided him. She’d sent word that she was giving him time to think about becoming a Seraph. She didn’t want him to decide in order to please her, but for him to do what was right for himself.

He, along with Beker, Amery and a few grooms, tossed baited lines into the sea. Silvery fish flopped in a bucket, so the morning hadn’t been entirely wasted. But, the combined grief was strong. Beker’s father, Othniel had died, along with most of the expedition. Back near the sandbar, there came sawing and hammering sounds, as sailors repaired the
Tiras
.

Only a few warriors, chariots and Asvarn stallions had survived the giants, and only a handful of dogs had swum to the
Tiras
. Still, combined with Captain Maharbal’s sailors, free-fighters, herders and others, space was at a premium aboard ship.

Amery tensed as her line quivered, and shifted to the right. She hissed, “The line’s cutting my hands.”

“I’ll take it,” Joash said.

“No,” she said, as she began to pull in the fish. In moments, her fists were purple colored.

Joash hooked his line on a thole-pin and grabbed a net. He poised himself, and saw a silvery flash in the water. Amery pulled faster. The fish bumped against the bottom of the boat.

“Bring him in a little closer,” Joash said.

Amery stood, causing the boat to sway, and yanked the line. The fish jumped out of the water. Joash netted it, and by falling backward, he brought the flopping fish among them. Beker clubbed it, and Amery began to unwind the line from her hands. When she was done, she managed a grin.

“That’s the biggest one yet,” Joash said.

She gave a prideful nod.

Joash raised the big fish, removed the hook and re-baited the line. He glanced at her hands. They were raw, and a cut showed blood. “Maybe you should take a break,” he said.

She shook her head, and threw the line back into the sea.

Joash had only caught one fish, a small one. Amery had been hauling them in all morning and giving him sly glances.

A day had passed since the meeting. Joash figured that until they left the sandbar, he didn’t have to make his decision. Besides, Adah’s avoidance was making him mad. He also wanted a sign. The others said Elohim wanted him, but how did he know that?  Being a Seraph seemed like being a prophet, or a clan priest, a position of authority and responsibility. He was a groom. If he were supposed to become a Seraph, then surely Elohim would give him a sign.

Joash stared at where his line entered the water. All kinds of fish lived down there, and plants, weeds and crabs. He studied the smudge of the Kragehul Steppes. It was so close, and yet so far. Hopefully, it was too far for giants, or Tarag-controlled sabertooths, to swim.

It was peaceful here, but grim. Early this morning, he’d overheard Herrek speaking with Lord Uriah. Herrek had sounded determined to trail Tarag by chariot. There had been few defeats in Herrek’s life. Maybe Herrek wanted to retest himself against the First Born. Joash had almost looked for Adah to ask her if the bewitching power of the emeralds could still be driving Herrek. She would have taken that the wrong way, though. Adah would likely figure he’d come to secretly see her. He grimaced. She’d have been right. Why had he ever kissed her? It had probably been a mistake.

Joash sat stock-still. There was a faint trumpet call. Goosebumps rose on his arms. He closed his eyes, and leaned toward the steppes. He waited, not breathing, not moving. He heard the creak of the boat, the slap of the small waves. He heard a runner shift positions, and knock against an oar. Then, he heard the faint trumpet again.

“Mammoths,” he whispered, staring at the smudge of the steppes. Oh, how he wanted to see mammoths. He recalled what Adah had told them. The mammoths had left the area because they hated the corruption of First Born. But if he heard mammoths now—

He turned to Amery. “I need to talk to Lord Uriah.”

“Can’t it wait?” Amery asked, pouting.

“I’m not leaving yet,” Beker said stubbornly.

Joash heard the sound again. Despite everything that had happened, it thrilled him. He began to wind in his line.

“What are you doing?” Amery asked.

Joash whipped off his shirt, and dove overboard. Amery yelled for him to come back. He struck toward the sandbar, concentrating on swimming through deep water. If he stopped, he’d sink a long ways down. His arms got tired, and the sandbar seemed no closer than before. So, he ignored the sandbar, and concentrated on his strokes. When he looked up, he saw he’d strayed to the right. After a time, he flipped onto his back and kicked with his legs. Soon, he switched back onto his stomach. Finally, he felt sand under his feet. He stood with relief and staggered ashore.

Gens greeted him with a silent salute, and threw him a towel. Harn barked with delight, and wagged his tail.

Joash dried his face as he petted Harn. “I need to speak to Lord Uriah.”

Gens pointed at the
Tiras.

Lord Uriah was on the ship, and all the boats were being used to fish with, or were on patrol. Joash didn’t feel like swimming again, so he searched for Adah, and found her in Zillith’s tent.

Joash barged in, with Harn behind. The two women frowned, but were polite enough to listen. Adah shrugged, pretending not to glance at his bare torso. He grinned, and tried not to flex. He was leaner than Elonites, and had a taut, whipcord-strong frame. Seeing Adah with her dark eyes, elfin chin, and the way her lips moved in her quirky smile... He longed to hold her hand, and stare into her eyes as they talked, and—

“—Are you sure they were mammoths?” Zillith asked, sharply, interrupting his thoughts.

“No,” Joash said sheepishly. He caught Adah hiding a grin behind her small hand. “From what you’ve told me about them, though, I’m almost certain the trumpet sounds came from mammoths.”

“What are you thinking?” Adah asked Zillith.

“That we’re short of water,” Zillith said. “Maybe the wisest thing to do is to go back to the river for more. I’ve been on the sea too many times to start a voyage with a water shortage. If the Nephilim and sabertooths are gone, then we should replenish our water while we can.”

“Are you sure the sabertooths are gone?” Adah asked.

“If the First Born Tarag is traveling fast to his destination,” Zillith said, “then I think it makes sense he would take all the sabertooths. His goal is to win his special prize, not possibly thwart us.”

“Look how hard the sabertooths tried to destroy us,” Adah said. “Look at the giants who joined them. We’ve precious knowledge that I’m sure neither Tarag nor Mimir wants us to link together with other knowledge. Surely, they desire our destruction. I don’t think Joash, or anybody else, should risk going back to the old camp.”

Joash raised his eyebrows. Was she worried about him? The idea was pleasing.

“For all their efforts, we escaped the steppes,” Zillith said. “I’m sure the enemy will try other methods. But, Tarag has no reason to keep his sabertooths here, not unless he knows we lack water. While he knows many things, I do not believe he knows that.”

Adah asked, “So what were the mammoths trumpeting at? Lod told me such beasts only trumpet when they’re angry or frightened. Surely, they trumpeted at sabertooths. It’s foolish to risk...” She met Joash’s eyes, and finished softly, “It’s foolish to send hot-headed grooms onto the dangerous steppes.”

Zillith rose to her feet. She was openly smiling. “We must talk with Lord Uriah. But first, Joash, go find a shirt, so all the girls aren’t staring at you.”

Adah blushed.

Joash grinned as he hurried out the tent.

***

Several hours later two longboats moved toward the Kragehul Steppes. A mast had been slotted into each boat and a small lateen sail hooked up. Each bellied before the wind, and Joash’s boat bumped over the water. Salt spray hit him in the face. He smiled. He was in the prow, keenly watching the shore. Dolphins swam underneath the boat. Joash marveled at them. What sleek, fun-loving creatures they seemed to be.

Captain Maharbal sat at the tiller. He said Tarshmen considered dolphins as good luck. The Captain wore his red robe, turban and boots. He was at ease in the boat. He’d agreed with Zillith, even though Adah and Lord Uriah had been unsettled as his going.

“What if sabertooths attack?” Lord Uriah had asked.

“I would rather risk sabertooths, than beginning a sea voyage with little water.”

Adah had left angry, unwilling to look at Joash.

The shore neared, and Joash kept a sharp lookout for mammoths. He held a new spear, and Herrek had awarded him a shield. It wasn’t a big one like Herrek carried, but round, made of three layers of auroch-hide.

The surf pounded the rocky shore. There was only a narrow opening where the stream emptied into the sea. If they went anywhere but there, the rocks would crush their boat. Behind the shore was a plain, and in the distance beyond it, was the marsh.

“Hang on!” Captain Maharbal shouted. He nodded to the sailors. The sail went down. Soon thereafter, an incoming wave caught them, and the boat shot forward. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. Captain Maharbal was an expert, though. They rode the wave, and glided smoothly toward the river’s opening. On both sides of them, water foamed against rocks.

“Out oars!” roared Maharbal.

The oars clunked and sailors strained. They slid into the stream’s mouth, and began the journey upriver. The shore was a double-spear’s length away on either side. Reeds and bulrushes hid the steppes. They would have stopped, and filled the barrels, but Captain Maharbal didn’t trust this water. It had gone through the marsh. Instead, he wished to reach the stream before it entered the marsh.

Joash sat at the prow, and watched the birds and muskrats. He was tense, but the animals were calm.
No birds flew in alarm, no sudden stilling of insect chirping occurred. By all the signs, no beasts of prey were near.

In time, they reached the marsh. Mosquitoes buzzed, and the water grew shallow. The boat bumped against mud, and only by great effort, did they move deeper. Joash parted reeds, and then the boat stuck fast. Joash, along with the others, jumped out, pushed and pulled the boat off the mud, and back the way they’d come. They soon found a shore and landed.

The two warriors from the other boat clattered ashore with weapons. No sabertooths greeted them. The wind tossed the reeds and birds sang. Everything seemed safe.

“We must work quickly,” Captain Maharbal said. “Joash, Eber.”

Joash put his spear and shield into the chariot they’d wrestled out of the boat. Eber and he pulled the chariot, the barrels bumping within it. They trotted around the marsh, and were soon on the other side of the cedar-topped hill.

The warriors trotted beside the chariot, spears ready, shields up and chainmail clinking. The rowers had stayed with the boats.

They came across the carcass of a horse, its stark white bones worked by ants. Hyenas, vultures, jackals and crows had all done their work, striping the bones bare. Joash looked, and listened for mammoths. He didn’t see any, although he saw their huge footprints. Oh, how he longed to see even a single mammoth. He
had
heard them trumpet. The footprints showed him tantalizing evidence. Why couldn’t they show themselves?

They reached the stream, and the work went apace. Too soon, Joash found himself pulling the heavier chariot back to the boats. Soon, he was grunting, sweating and manhandling the barrels into the boats. He pulled the chariot back to the stream with a new set of empty water barrels. He was beginning to wonder why he’d ever volunteered. The mammoths were long gone.

“Look at this,” Captain Maharbal said later. They were beside the stream.

The two warriors walked over to the stout Tarshman.

“Mammoth tracks?” one of them asked.

“No. This is smaller, but deeper than a mammoth track.” Captain Maharbal frowned. “What makes tracks like this?”

The warriors shrugged.

“Joash,” Captain Maharbal called.

Joash got up from where he ate his boiled seagull eggs.

“Have you ever seen a track like this?” Captain Maharbal asked.

The print seemed familiar, but Joash couldn’t place it. The Captain, with his spade-shaped curly beard, seemed troubled.

“What’s wrong?” Joash asked.

“Study the track more closely,” Captain Maharbal urged. Joash did. “Notice how deep it is,” Captain Maharbal said, an edge of fear to his voice. Joash nodded as the warriors lost interest and walked away. “The track is too small for a mammoth,” Captain Maharbal said.

“What about a baby mammoth?” Joash asked.

“The track is too deep, and this isn’t soft or wet soil in this particular spot.”

Joash gave the Captain a puzzled look. Maharbal minutely shook his head, his big golden earrings clashing. Joash looked down, and his stomach went cold.

“I’ve seen a track like this before,” Joash whispered.