“Sabertooth tracks by the spring.”
“What kind?”
“Of a brute with a crippled left paw.”
“What do you call this beast?”
“Old Three-Paws,” Joash said, remembering the Teman Clan warriors who had glanced at Herrek when he had last mentioned the name.
“Listen to what Lord Uriah told me last night,” Adah said. “It explains much.”
“Herrek, and his oldest brother, Jeremoth, once gave each other ever increasingly harder challenges. Each thought himself their father Teman’s hardiest warrior. Eleven years ago, Jeremoth challenged Herrek to go to Giant Land and bring back a mammoth hide and tusks. Herrek boldly accepted the challenge. He landed at the same camp we stayed at, and went out after a four-day blizzard. They found a half-frozen mammoth and made their kill. During the skinning, sabertooths attacked. A huge male led the beasts. The big beasts slew many of the charioteers. Herrek, trapped at the edge of the drop where they’d cornered the mammoth, readied his sword as the big male rushed him. Herrek struck the sabertooth’s paw as the sabertooth knocked him off the edge. Herrek survived the fall, although, several of his ribs were broken by it. Despite his ravings to go back after the sabertooth, Gens refused, and drove him back to camp.”
“The next year, to prove his younger brother less of a warrior than himself, Jeremoth sailed here and hunted for the same sabertooth. Jeremoth never returned home. The charioteers, who did return, spoke of a sabertooth with a crippled left paw. That sabertooth, they claimed, had been unnaturally cunning. He had led his pride in several ambushes, and had delighted himself upon human flesh.”
“This,” Adah said, “is the beast that Herrek thinks is chasing Elidad. And this beast Herrek is determined to slay.”
Joash wondered how wise it was to stalk such a beast without many dogs and warriors in tow. In all the wilds, no animal was more dangerous than one who had learned to hunt people. And Old Three-Paws was said to be unnaturally cunning.
“This will be a dangerous journey,” Joash said.
“So you think Herrek is right?”
“That Old Three-Paws follows Elidad?” he asked.
She nodded.
“The tracks show such to be likely. Besides, what else could have chased Elidad?”
Adah looked away. She shook her head and then gestured sharply. “You are young. You don’t yet know what a precious thing life is. To throw it away on a vengeance quest, that’s folly.”
Joash frowned. What had caused this shift in her? What was she thinking? He didn’t like her calling him young. He knew very well how precious life was. “What do you mean?” he asked, a bit stiffly.
“Wait until you’ve lived two hundred years, or five hundred years, then life will become almost too precious to bear. Old humans should know this.”
She was confusing him. Was she saying that she was two hundred years old? Not with skin that soft. A thought struck Joash. “What about Nephilim?” he asked. “Don’t Nephilim live longer than true men?”
“It is said so.”
“Then, wouldn’t they feel the sting of life more than people?”
“What do you know of the bene elohim?” she asked, sharply.
Joash shivered, thinking back to Balak and Gog, who ruled the pirate city. Gog was supposed to be a child of a bene elohim. Since those days, Zillith had taught him that abominations like First Born, and horrible powers, like the bene elohim, were subjects best left alone. Evil fates awaited those who delved too deeply into those arcane mysteries.
Herrek called from atop the long, slow slope they’d worked up the entire morning. Adah shook the reins. Their stallions broke into a gallop, thundering toward Herrek. The wind whipped Joash’s hair, as he held onto the vibrating chariot rail. He closed his mouth after the chariot bounced over a rock, painfully clacking his teeth together.
This was wonderful and glorious, almost divine. Joash loved the ride, and he laughed as Koton, Adah’s hound, raced beside them. Adah finally pulled the reins. The stallions snorted and slowed to a high-stepping prance.
Joash wondered how a warrior could keep his balance to snatch and hurl a spear while at full speed. It would be years before he learned such a skill, if he ever got the chance to train.
“What is it?” Adah shouted.
With his chariot parked on top of the slope, Herrek pointed at something just out of sight. Then Adah pulled up beside him.
Joash whistled in awe.
Gens nodded, saying softly, “It’s beautiful.”
Adah’s head swayed back as she viewed the enchanting scene.
Spread out before them was a wide descending plain of lush grass. Far down at the bottom, perhaps ten miles away, was a small lake that sparkled with the sun’s light. Beyond the lake, maybe twenty miles, it was impossible to truly judge the distance, stood a rocky lichen-colored range of hills. From the hills flowed a ribbon of river. The most awe-inspiring sight, however, was the host of animals filling the plains. A vast horde of steppe ponies roamed to their left. Dust clouds rose above the ponies, and the thunder of their hooves was loud. On the horse-horde’s flank worked a pack of dire wolves. To the ponies’ right milled a mindless horde of long-horned bison, a seething mass of brown shaggy bodies with huge horns. To the bison’s right, and this horde extended out of view, were yellow-skinned antelope. A pride of lions followed them, although that section of the plain was presently peaceful. Dotted here and there were lone trees, and sometimes a stand of them circled what seemed like coin-sized waterholes.
“How many animals are there?” Joash asked in wonder.
Herrek shook his head.
The effect of the animals, the lush grass, the pristine lake, and the rugged hills, all added to a marvelous beauty. A huge flock of birds, dots from here, flew above the lake, while long-winged eagles soared high above everything else.
“Where are the mammoths?” Joash asked. “Surely by now we should have seen mammoths.”
Gens shrugged, but Adah asked, “What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t mean anything by it,” Herrek said for Joash. “He’s simply dying to see mammoths. Ever since we came to Giant Land he’s been unable to ask about anything else.”
“There should be mammoths,” Adah said slowly.
“Zillith told me the same thing,” Joash said.
Gens shielded his eyes from the sun and scanned the plains. “No mammoths,” he said.
Herrek plucked a long blade of grass and put it in his mouth. He asked, “What does it mean that we haven’t seen any mammoths?”
“I don’t know,” Adah said, puzzled. “But I’m beginning to believe the reason is important.”
“What do mammoths fear?” Joash asked.
“Mammoths fear sabertooths,” Gens said, who seemed to be watching Herrek’s reaction.
“We must go back and tell Lord Uriah what we’ve seen,” Adah said.
“And what is that?” Herrek asked.
“That we’ve found no mammoths, and no sign of Elidad, other than his endless tracks leading inland.”
Without a word, Herrek spat the stem of grass and patted Gens on the back. Gens flicked the reins and drove toward the hordes of teeming animals.
Adah followed shortly.
* * *
In another mile they would reach the horse-horde and reach the dire wolf pack fighting over a pulled-down colt. Already vultures wheeled overhead.
Adah turned to Joash. “You must learn about the bene elohim, and then learn about their firstborn.”
Why couldn’t she forget such dreadful subjects? It was as if she was trying to teach him hidden lore, but for the life of him, he couldn’t fathom why.
She gave him the reins. Joash concentrated on the horses. They plodded on, every once in awhile bending down to take a bite of grass.
“Prepare yourself to learn about one of the worst tragedies of the Earth. For this is the true story of the bene elohim. This is the secret story of the great rebel.
This is the dreaded ‘Song of Azel the Bene Elohim.’”
Joash tried to tell her that he wasn’t ready to hear such tales.
Adah cleared her throat and said, “Listen as I chant.”
* * *
Once, along with a myriad of others, Azel was Elohim’s Cherub. Yet, to these plotters came the Day of Rebellion. The war in the Celestial Realm was savage. Mighty were the spear strokes, graver still the wounds. At last the evil rebels were cast from the City, thrust into outer darkness. From there, they plotted. Many wished to implement certain schemes, others different ones. In the end, two lords rose up, two schools of thought proposed, that of Azel, and that of Morningstar.
“Come with me to the Garden Paradise,” Azel told his brethren. “For if we cannot rule in the Celestial Realm, let us be gods and beget races below.”
Many were swayed, and in a host they descended upon the doomed world. Using the stolen Rod of Creation, which Elohim had once wielded, Azel gave bodily forms to his brother rebels. He made it so each could sire a race after his own image. However the Rod of Creation was not a sword that any warrior could pick up and swing with skill, nor was it a smith’s hammer to be wielded by any sinewy arm. Nay, the Rod of Creation was a divine instrument, and in Azel’s hand, it turned upon him. In the changing of himself and his brother rebels, he chained all of them to bodily forms. No longer were they the princes of the air, but now they were bound to that which they could see, smell, hear, touch, and taste. They still possessed great powers, and supernatural were many of their feats, but both by their enemies, and by themselves, they were called the Accursed.
In their rage, Azel and the Accursed conquered humanity. They drove the human cattle before them, and doomed many to a horror beyond their ken. First Born, abominations of spirit and flesh, were generated between the daughters of men and the bene elohim. The First Born, in turn, spawned the Nephilim: giants, fiends, Gibborim, necromancers, and champions of renown.
The Dark Kingdoms arose, and but for the Shining Ones all would have been lost. For high in the Celestial Realm, those who had remained faithful to Elohim watched with growing fury. At last Balad the Blessed led a mighty host of Shining Ones to the Garden World. There they raised great legions of men and led them in the Accursed War. After a thousand years, the Dark Kingdoms fell, the bene elohim were dragged to off-world pits, and there chained in adamant until the end of the ages.
There, it’s said, Azel the Accursed still waits for the Final Judgment. Even now, he ponders the wisdom of his rebellion.
* * *
Joash blinked when Adah stopped chanting. He was awed at such a tale. Many questions filled him, and he had a terrible fear as well. He’d always hated Shamgar and Balak, but he’d never know the true terror of the First Born Gog and his Temple. How could humanity hope to fight and defeat such… abominations, now that the Shining Ones were gone?
He tried to say something.
“No,” Adah said. “Don’t speak. Ponder Azel’s fate. You have more to learn before you should speak.”
Joash gave her a bewildered look.
“I know why the mammoths have fled,” she said. “If you wish to learn why, then you must hear more. Do you understand?”
He nodded, but he didn’t understand. She touched his arm, squeezing it. He understood that! He liked it.
Adah said, “You are brave, Joash. Here on the forsaken steppes, on the edge of Giant Land, such tales are difficult to hear. And much harder still because you’ve talked with a giant.”
Herrek shouted in anguish.
Adah urged the stallions to gallop where Herrek knelt. Joash drew his spear and expected the worst. He was beginning to long for the safety of camp, and even more for the safety of far off Elon. He steeled himself for what he was about to see.
CHAPTER SIX
The Song of Tarag
The bene elohim saw that the daughters of men were beautiful, and they married any of them that they chose.
— Genesis 6:2
Joash saw a body lying in the grass. The stiff corpse wore the leathers of a runner. Joash grew faint and felt vomit rise in his throat. The front of the corpse’s head had been smashed in. Joash saw details of familiar things: a bone-handled skinning knife, an armlet of brass smeared with dried blood, an old pouch lined with rabbit fur. Inside the pouch, Joash knew, would be Ard’s lucky stone, one specially polished and purchased from a merchant of Further Tarsh.
Joash’s chest felt as if it were hollowing out. His eyes grew watery. “Ard,” he whispered.
Herrek averted his face from the stiff corpse.
Joash jumped off the chariot and staggered toward his dead friend. His own body was numb. He wiped his eyes, and knelt beside Ard. Slowly he reached out and touched the corpse. It was stiff, immobile, and rigid. He put his hand on Ard’s cold neck.
Joash jerked his hand away.
Herrek squeezed Joash’s shoulder. “The attack must have come quickly. Ard probably felt no pain.”
Joash bowed his head. Ard was dead, lying forever in Giant Land. He hated the Kragehul Steppes, the ancient name for these plains. Why had Lord Uriah come here? Joash finally noticed Adah. She studied the ground.
“Notice these sabertooth tracks,” she said to Herrek.
Herrek held his spear, his big knuckles white. “I’ve already seen them,” he said.
“What is it?” Joash wheezed. He felt drained, although his anger was strong. He wanted to know what had happened. He wanted to slay his friend’s killer.
Adah glanced at Herrek.
Herrek nodded.
“These tracks,” Adah said softly. She faltered and turned away.
Joash looked in bewilderment at Herrek.
Herrek pointed at the ground. “Ard was thrown off his feet there.” Herrek pointed at the corpse. “There, he landed.”
Joash frowned, too drained to understand.
Herrek knelt by the tracks. He was a keen hunter, one of the best at reading spoor. He pointed at the various indentations. “A sabertooth with a crippled left paw leaped at Ard, and knocked him against that rock.”
Understanding filtered into Joash’s numbed mind. Old Three-Paws had slain his friend.
Adah knelt by the corpse. Her knowing eyes examined it. For a time she stared intently at the crushed head. Then she did a strange thing. She plucked a strong stock of grass and probed inside the wound. The blood drained from her face. She leaped up, making a strangled sound, and dropped the blade of grass as if it was a fiery brand. Her hands trembled, and she stumbled, almost drunkenly, away from the corpse.
“What is it?” Herrek asked. “What did you find?”
Joash forced himself to see what Adah had. He couldn’t understand what—a shudder passed through him. The head. He, too, made a strangled sound and leaped back.
Herrek stared at him.
“The head,” Joash whispered, with horror in his voice.
Herrek peered at the skull. His eyes widened. He bent closer. Rage filled his face.
“What do you see?” asked Gens, who stood in the chariot.
“The brain…” Herrek took a deep breath. “Something scooped out Ard’s brain and feasted.”
“How could the sabertooth do such a thing?” whispered Gens.
“No sabertooth did that,” Herrek said grimly. “Something used an instrument to scoop out the brain. It was a deliberate act, an intelligent act, and an insulting act that I shall avenge.”
“But…” Gens said. “From the signs, Old Three-Paws slew Ard.”
Herrek grew quiet, his lips pressed together.
Joash wiped his eyes.
“Singer,” Herrek said harshly. “Elidad and Brand are still lost. We must harden our resolve and do what we can. We—”
Adah’s head snapped up. A fierce light was in her eyes. “Oh yes,” she said, her voice odd, “we must indeed harden our resolve. Either that, or flee for our lives. But we won’t flee, because Elidad and Brand are in danger. And you’ve seen to it
that only we are here to help them.”
Herrek met her strange gaze.
“Is your courage great enough that you dare to hear what I have to say?” she asked.
“Let me know the worst,” Herrek said.
Adah shook her head. “Let us bury Ard first so his bones won’t lie awake on these terrible plains.”
Joash went to his chariot and took the entrenching tool. As he dug Gens and Herrek gathered what stones they could find. Then Herrek and Joash picked up Ard’s corpse and reverently placed it in the grave. As the highest-ranked noble of Elon, Herrek spoke about Ard’s good nature, about his doggedness in training. He spoke about the love and mercy of Elohim, and he asked Elohim to take Ard into the Celestial Realm. Then Herrek departed from custom, and asked Joash to give his friend the parting words.
Joash looked down at the grave, but he didn’t look at the corpse. A hot wind caused the grass around the grave to bend, as if in prayer. Off in the distance, an orn screeched.
“I will not forget you,” Joash whispered. “And I will not forget this horrible deed done to you.”
Adah’s eyes showed her worry. She motioned to Herrek.
Herrek didn’t budge, with his auroch-hide shield at his side, and his spear planted like a towering redwood. He honored Ard, and something else was on his face: fierce resolve.
Joash breathed deeply. He picked up a clod of dirt. “Keep a place by the heavenly fire for me, old friend.” As tears ran down his face, Joash tossed the dirt-clod into the hole.
Soon Herrek and Gens clattered stones atop the soft dirt, lest carrion animals dig up Ard’s corpse. When all was finished, Joash took Ard’s skinning knife, whispered a secret oath, and spat on the blade. He drove Ard’s knife all the way down to the hilt into the ground.
Done with the burial, Joash joined Herrek and Gens as they sat on rocks and watched Adah. She gloomily plucked lyre strings. They knew now was the time for her to tell them of her fears.
Joash, knowing this was important in order to avenge Ard’s death, paid close attention to the singer. There would be magic in her voice and in her lyre. But it was welcome magic, not the dark and supernatural kind First Born and Nephilim wielded. A singer’s magic was a part of the world. It gave lessons, it entertained, it brought joy, it brought sorrow, but most of all, it took people away to different lands and places. Such a thing should not be rushed, not even beside a grave.
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