Lord Uriah stroked his white beard. “Ours is not a combat expedition.”
Herrek squinted, as he stared east. He spat at the ground. “We cannot let the giants think we’re cowards.”
Charioteers muttered angrily in agreement.
Lord Uriah laughed. “Rather, we cannot let the giants slay us, or stop us from leaving the steppes and reporting upon what we’ve seen.”
Adah agreed.
“What if only a handful of giants approach?” Herrek asked.
“I’m certain it is only a handful,” Lord Uriah said. “But these are giants, Champion, and this is their land.”
“If we deploy our chariots on carefully chosen ground, then we can slay this handful of giants.”
Lord Uriah shook his head. Raising his voice, he addressed the entire company. “All grooms and runners will board their master’s chariot. We will move to the beach at a trot.”
Herrek muttered, as did several other proud warriors.
“Sungara will ride with you,” Lord Uriah told the champion.
“No, no,” Sungara said uneasily. “Danger is near. I trust my own feet now.”
“Nonsense. We’ll outrace you and leave you behind.”
“Sungara not think so, Lord Uriah.”
“Let’s not argue over it,” Adah said. “We’ve already stopped too long.”
Lord Uriah agreed, and the command was given. The squadron moved at a fast trot. At their heels followed the dogs.
“Something feels wrong,” Gens said.
Herrek adjusted the grip on his shield.
“Remember the sabertooth who ambushed us at the black thorns?” Gens asked. “This has that kind of feel.”
Both Herrek and Joash looked back. Armor flashed, bright and ominous, and somehow seeming closer than before.
The stocky Huri, who ran easily and swiftly, grinned at Joash. It was an odd sight. The Huri seemed too massive to run for long, but he paced easily alongside the hounds.
“Do you think we’re being herded?” Herrek asked Gens.
Gens nervously chewed his mustache.
Lord Uriah slowed the rapid pace. Maybe he, too, was suspicious.
Suddenly, Shemul shouted, “Giants!”
“What?” Lord Uriah shouted back at him.
“I see the giants now, lord, not just flashes of light.”
Charioteers craned their heads east. The westering sun threw up odd shadows. The waving grasses seemed longer than before, and the stones and boulders taller and grimmer. In time, night would shroud everything in darkness. Even so, the armor-flashing giants were visible to all.
“The giant’s are running!” Shemul shouted.
“How far can a giant run in heavy armor?” Herrek shouted to Lord Uriah. “Let us stop and deploy, and attack them when they’re weary.”
Many charioteers roared agreement.
Adah, who rode with Lord Uriah, studied the giants. Her lips were thin. She whispered into Lord Uriah’s ear. He increased the pace.
It wasn’t long before Shemul roared, “The giants move quickly, Lord. Almost as fast as horses.”
“Impossible!” shouted shaggy-bearded Karim.
Many turned pale with fear. For now, many of them could see the giants, Joash among them. The tall, armored giants sprinted. They covered the ground in huge bounds, weapons and shields in their hands. As warriors, those in the company knew that to run far in armor was extremely wearying. These giants didn’t seem to grow weary.
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 s
abertooths, 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.
The fearsome, legendary giants roared and charged toward the beach. The sabertooths, led by the scarred champion, snarled and launched themselves back into the water.
“Heave!” Herrek shouted. Heavy spears rose unevenly and fell among the sabertooths. The savage brutes pulled up short.
“Drive for the barge!” Lord Uriah cried.
The charioteers needed no more urging. They drove headlong toward the nearing barge, even though it was still too deep for them to drive the entire way.
The sabertooths charged anew, the giants following close behind. The Huri in the launches, who had drawn closer, let their flint-tipped arrows fly. Sabertooths roared with painful rage. More arrows flew. The sabertooths, hating the water and the sharp-hurting stings, retreated once more. The giants didn’t. They ran past the beasts and splashed into the green sea.
“For Father Jotnar!” the giants roared, although they sounded winded. Titanic spears flew. Huri screamed, a fistful of them swept from the nearest boat. The sailors on the barge quit rowing. A catapult dart whizzed from the Tiras. It missed Ymir by a foot.
Ygg the Terrible plucked a skull from his necklace and hurled it at the barge. Joash saw that the skull had gems in the eye sockets. The skull landed in the middle of the barge with a thud, as if it was much heavier than it possibly could be. A sinister green vapor billowed out of it. Whomever the vapor touched dropped dead, without a gasp or a groan. With a cry of fear Joash ran, jumped overboard, and swam toward a boat. He saw Adah swim toward the distant Tarsh ship. The rowers in the closer boat helped Joash in.
Joash saw the plight of the now-floundering charioteers.
Lord Uriah solved the puzzle. He leaped over the front railing and stood on the pole between his two stallions. With his sword he freed the horses. They swam at his urging. He jumped and grabbed the mane of one. The horse swam toward the Tiras, dragging the armor-weighed Lord Uriah along.
Other charioteers did likewise, although not all. A thrown spear slew red-bearded Karim and the horse he hung onto. Another charioteer lost his grip, and because of the heavy armor drowned, although the stallions kept swimming.
“Lord Uriah!” roared Mimir, hip-deep in water.
Lord Uriah craned back, his sword in one hand, the horse’s mane in the other. He was in deep water, well away from the giants. The horse valiantly struggled.
Mimir heaved his spear. Lord Uriah judged the cast. He let go of the mane, and like a stone sank out of sight. The horse screamed. Then it sank, dragged down by Mimir’s spear.
Joash couldn’t believe it. He stared at the spot where Lord Uriah had gone down. After more than five hundred years of life, could the Patriarch of Elon and Shur at last be dead? A moment later, Joash cheered. Lord Uriah bobbed up, minus his armor. Somehow, the old warrior had cunningly divested himself of it.
Mimir roared, “You sly old fox!” He waded, axe in hand, toward those charioteers still in the shallows.
Joash saw that in their armor the remaining charioteers would never be able to outmaneuver nor outrun the giants. Strangely, none of the charioteers had stayed aboard their chariots. They all looked sick with dread and fear, as if hexed. The thought of a magic that dulled a warrior enraged Joash. A deep hatred welled from, until now, a hidden source. It wasn’t right that the warriors of Elon be butchered like sheep. He had to do something! The anger melted his terror, enough so he could act. “Help me pick up the warriors!” Joash shouted at the rowers.
They stared at the terrible giants who waded ever closer. The sailor at the tiller shook his shaven head.
Hardly daring to believe what he did, Joash advanced upon the sailor at the tiller. “Pick up warriors!” he shouted, brandishing a knife. The rowers reached out and tripped him. He went down, his chin striking a wet wooden rib. The knife was pried from his fingers. “You must rescue the warriors,” Joash wailed from beneath a rower.
Someone gave a sharp order. The rowers let Joash up, although they didn’t give him his knife.
“If you don’t pick up the warriors they’ll all be killed,” he said.
The shaven-headed sailor at the tiller nodded curtly. To the terrified groans of the rowers, he ordered them toward shore.
Joash rose. He witnessed a horrible scene.
Motsognir Stone Hands swept his axe and smashed through the shield, armor, and into the ribs of Othniel. The warrior gritted his teeth in pain. Motsognir wrenched out his Bolverk-made axe, which hadn’t even been notched by the blow. So, too, did he wrench out Othniel’s spirit from his body. Because of the weight of Othniel’s armor, the dead warrior sank below the waves.
The other charioteers wailed in fear and misery. They struggled neck-deep toward the now-empty barge, although the weird green fog upon it looked deadly. The waves made things difficult. Many charioteers cried out in terror as a wave washed over their heads.
“Herrek!” Joash shouted. “This way.”
With his helmet gone and his red hair soaked, Herrek saw the boat and Joash. He slipped off his shield and waded toward Joash’s boat. Other warriors followed the Champion’s example. Behind them, the giants boomed vile insults.
Two giants waded toward Joash’s boat, each holding an axe. They looked mighty, indomitable. The red-bearded giant was Gaut Windrunner, and the other was Mimir the Wise.
Joash hopelessly raised his spear. “Faster!” he shouted. The rowers pulled faster. Then, charioteers cried out in joy. Like leather-wrapped hammers, their gloved hands fell onto the sides of the boat. Herrek was one of them. He panted from exhaustion. The charioteers were too tired to climb into the boat.
“Back up!” Joash shouted at the rowers.
The rowers obeyed. With so much dead weight, however, the boat responded sluggishly.
Gaut Windrunner laughed. He was close.
“Faster!” Joash screamed.
Herrek gritted his teeth and his eyes flashed terribly. He looked up at Joash. Joash almost recoiled from him. Herrek’s eyes blazed with savage will.
“Help me,” Herrek hissed.
Joash grabbed Herrek’s wet arm. But the Champion was heavy. Armored charioteers beside Herrek yelled in fear as the boat tipped dangerously low to the water.
“No!” a rower howled at Joash.
“Pull,” Herrek said.
Joash pulled, and Herrek flopped into the boat. He rose and picked up Joash’s spear. The effort had slowed the boat’s escape.
Gaut Windrunner held his monstrous axe by the haft and reached out with his strong right arm. Emmal, of the famed hunting kennels, screamed as he held onto the boat’s prow. The axe sheered through his shoulders. Emmal let go of the boat and sank out of sight, bubbles and blood staining the water like oil.
“Guide me, Elohim,” Herrek whispered. Water sloshed around his feet, and the wood creaked. A wave made the boat lurch up, and then down. Herrek faked a throw as the wave washed toward Gaut. The red-bearded giant laughed again, raising his shield. The wave washed up against Gaut Windrunner’s chest, no doubt throwing saltwater into his face. Only then did Herrek reach back. He threw while Gaut’s shield was up. Gaut Windrunner lowered his shield. A look of surprise appeared on the giant’s face. Shock exchanged places with surprise. Gaut Windrunner, the spear stuck in his throat, stared at Herrek. The giant toppled backward, underwater, and out of sight.
Giants lc-1 Page 19
