Behemoth (Lost Civilizations: 5)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Lod was no longer sooty, but thoroughly wet. His muscles writhed at the effort and his strange blue eyes gleamed as he peered at the galley every time a wave lifted them high enough to see it.

  The sea monster’s attack on the galley petrified Keros and brought hoarse shouts of praise from Lod. Then the sea monster vanished, and the next wave showed Lod the gargantuan galley limping for the isle. It rode lower in the water now, and the mast draped over the galley like a shroud.

  “The sea beast hurt them,” Lod said.

  “I hate the sea,” Keros said. “Better to live and die on land.”

  Ah, Lod could feel the isle’s flame now. It was a blaze of the spirit, a frightening power and yet compelling. Perhaps he was like a small boy, lured by an inferno, the roar of fire, the crashing of burnt timber, the whirl of fiery sparks spiraling into the sky. The boy knew it was dangerous, felt it could consume him, yet the beauty, the very awe and fury of the fire drew him nearer for a closer look. Even the heat blazing upon his face, the fierceness caused him to laugh with wonder. So it was with Lod. Instead of causing terror or trepidation, the feeling awed him and pulled him as surely as if oxen with ropes had dragged him there.

  As Tamar kept rowing, Lod set down his paddle. They were out of the most dangerous waves. He peered down into the rolling green sea, into its murky depths. Then he gazed skyward, and he raised his arms. “O Elohim, grant me this request. Let me slay Dagon and his hideous companions.”

  Then Lod picked up his paddle. And the three of them continued to row for the Isle of the Behemoth.

  -19-

  From the galley, Nyla studied the island. Giant trees lined a stream that poured freshwater into the sea, the water that created the sea current. On both sides of the stream were white sandy beaches and then vine-thick cliffs, upon which swayed the greenest trees Nyla had ever seen. It was a beautiful sight. Why then did the isle fill her with a soul-deep ache?

  For a time the galley wallowed like a drunk. Shark fins circled them. Hand-pumps worked below as reavers shouted, and always the timbers creaked and groaned. By degrees, the shore drew nearer and the white sands sparkled.

  Then it seemed to Nyla that something roared in her head. She winced, the breath squeezed from her lungs. A blaze of soul-heat struck her. It wasn’t a physical heat, but she felt it deep inside her. She worked her jaws. Her mind reeled and the isle…she didn’t want to go there. The white sands were a trap. The beautiful green trees held terrors. No, that wasn’t it. The stolen flame from the golden altar above…ahhh…the pureness of the Celestial Realm awaited her on the isle. It was too much, too intense, too vital for her.

  “The celestial flame,” rumbled Dagon.

  Nyla was startled to discover the huge Nephilim beside her.

  His simian-like lips drew back. “We have crossed a barrier. The oldest lore speaks about it. Here the flame burns with celestial power, a spiritual thing not of this world.”

  “It is hateful,” Nyla said.

  Dagon features had become frozen. “You must not let it sway you.”

  “Lord?” Nyla asked, puzzled by his manner.

  “The flame seeks to corrupt your thoughts. It seeks to say that you are weak and pitiful. You must summon your will, Assassin. Break its hold over you.”

  Nyla touched the trident-shaped scab on her cheek instead. One day the Nephilim marked her. The next he spoke to her as a near equal. Then it came to Nyla that the power of the flame touched him, too. It troubled the Nephilim. She stole a secret glance. Dagon’s eyes were fixed on the isle.

  “I’m trying to break its hold on me, Lord,” Nyla said, wanting to keep him talking.

  Dagon clutched her shoulder. “We have the blood of the bene elohim in us. We are creatures of the celestial sphere, of the stars above. Yet we’ve been confined to his terrestrial ball. We are bound by death and decay. On the isle lies the flame. It radiates with the essence of the Celestial Realm. With it, Gog will gain mastery over flesh, blood and bone. Look how the trees have grown on the shores, how this ancient relic of a galley survived the centuries. With the flame in his possession, Gog will bend its power. He will halt decay in the flame’s immediate presence. He will even heal Ut’s leprosy.”

  “I thought we came seeking the Behemoth,” Nyla said.

  “With the flame, one of you will gain total mastery over the Behemoth.”

  Nyla stole another glance, and a frightening thought coursed through her. Would Dagon willingly seek this flame in order to give it to Gog? Would Dagon let a beastmaster use this flame to strengthen his power so that he or she could perfectly control the Behemoth?

  The Nephilim’s frozen features shifted into one of cunning. “Think, Assassin. In you flows the blood of the high. Yet why must it flow in such weakness? You are only of the fifth generation. If you reach the flame, you can gain the power of one of the third or second generation.”

  Nyla swallowed. The stolen flame from the golden altar above blazed on the isle. She felt that within herself. And it would burn spiritually hotter the closer she went.

  “You’ve been cheated,” rumbled Dagon.

  “I have,” Nyla whispered.

  “All your life you’ve striven for what you wanted.”

  “You speak truth,” she said.

  “If you want a thing, you should take it,” Dagon said.

  Nyla glanced at him.

  “Yes,” said Dagon, giving her a secret smile. “Do as you will. That is the whole of the law of life.”

  Nyla nodded as she realized the truth of Dagon’s words. And it seemed odd to her that the scab on her cheek no longer bothered her as it had only minutes before. Dagon…what was his accursed gift? Did his words have magical power?

  Nyla shook her head. That didn’t matter now. Gaining the flame did. With it, she could achieve the high rank and prestige that by misfortune had always been denied her.

  ***

  The gargantuan galley rolled with a wave toward the white sandy shore. The hull scraped along the bottom, foam churning beside it. Then the hull plowed to a jarring halt, wood splintering as the keel ran into the sandy bottom. The propelling wave rolled past the vessel, crashing upon the shore. The ancient ship was stuck fast, other waves hitting it, pushing it in deeper, with nearly fifty yards to go before dry land.

  Steel slid from a scabbard, and Dagon stood before the others. Then Dagon leaped overboard, landing with a splash and wading for shore.

  Nyla followed, with the giant bear behind her. The water came up to her neck, with brine sloshing into her mouth. She clung to the bear’s wet fur as it waded for shore.

  Ut of Cave Hyenas, Radek of Orns, the Eagle Master and the other beastmasters all jumped overboard, with their beasts following. The reavers stood on deck, with their arms crossed before their faces, trembling in fear even as they tried to step toward shore. None succeeded leaving the ship, but one by one fell and waited in fear of the supernatural.

  ***

  Lod, Keros and Tamar followed the shore of the island in their ungainly dugout canoe. Suddenly, Keros and Tamar pitched forward, one paddle clattering against wood and the other plopping overboard. The young mountain warrior groaned, and he covered his head with his hands. Tamar curled into a fetal ball. Lod was different. He basked in the soul-heat. They had crossed the barrier, entering the inner area of the isle.

  Lod sank his paddle-blade into the choppy sea, thrusting, sending their unfinished craft toward the sacred isle. He sensed hostile eyes even as he suspected that no human had touched these shores since the Shining Ones had pulled down Baal.

  Lod paddled, aiming for white sand between two towering statues of axe-armed soldiers. Water and foam dribbled down those ancient statues. Here the outer sea rolled its waves harder. Their crash against shore was thunderous and correspondingly ominous.

  Lod hunched his shoulders. The stolen flame wasn’t of Earth. It likely followed contrary laws, those of the Celestial Realm. Lod’s rugged features tightened. The flame surely w
arped Earthly laws.

  The dugout rocked, and Lod snarled, paddling frantically to keep the boat even. Lod’s heart thudded as the dugout picked up speed with each succeeding wave rolling toward shore—the crashing surf and the spray against the statues foretold his likely end. He chewed on his beard, paddling, trying to position them for the tiny entrance. Lod’s neck muscles writhed in remembrance of the rat-rope that had once bound him. Old whip-scars on his back from his galley-slave days throbbed anew as spray stung them. For years—as a young lad—his guts had churned when huge rats had swam at him, vying to be first to sink their fangs into his flesh. How he’d longed then for a chance to pay back his enemies. Today, those dreams might flower into precious reality.

  Lod thrust the paddle into the sea even as a huge wave rolled at him. He laughed wildly as the muscles rose on his arms. He flailed like a madman, thrusting, pushing and fighting this unfinished length of log. The wave reached for him. It picked up the dugout and shot it at the boulders. They sped faster than ever, and Lod leaned back then, holding the paddle in the water, using it as a steering oar. Keros clung to the gunwales, moaning. Tamar’s eyes gleamed. They shot like an arrow as the nearest statue rushed at them.

  “Elohim!” bellowed Lod, his eyes burning.

  The craft scraped against stone, pitching Lod, Keros and Tamar out of the dugout, plopping them into the churning water. Then the length of charred log splintered, still hurdling forward, shattering on the rocks beyond with cracking obliteration. The three humans, meanwhile, as mere rags of flesh, tumbled end over end in the grip of whirling waterpower.

  Then Lod found himself floating in brine, no longer at the mercy of the waves. He shoved upward, breaking the surface, gasping air and water. Keros popped up beside him. Lod pushed the mountain warrior toward shore. Tamar already waded onto the white sands.

  Another wave came, smaller than the first, propelling them. Soon Lod waded ashore, helping Keros stumble beside him. He sat down beside Tamar, who lay stretched out under a palm tree.

  “We’ll rest a few minutes,” said Lod. “Then we must hunt for the flame.”

  Neither Keros nor Tamar said a word, but lay inert under the palm tree. It might have troubled Lod. But the power of the flame tugged at him. He stood, and he strode toward a winding path that led up a grassy hill.

  -20-

  Nyla tested a slick rock as the mountain river thundered to her right, cascading between huge boulders and throwing up endless spray. Behind her, the mighty cave bear bawled. Its normally earsplitting roar was barely audible as the river drowned out most of the noise.

  Nyla shoved the rock, but it wouldn’t budge. She turned and slapped it, waving for the bear to follow. Too often jumbled rocks that were steady for her infinitesimal weight had shifted under the great beast. To emphasis its displeasure, the bear opened its jaws and bawled once more. The river spray that drifted past them like fog had slicked the rocks and soaked its fur. With her sleeve, Nyla carefully wiped her marked cheek.

  Ahead, Dagon and the Eagle Master climbed the steep, boulder-strewn path. The Nephilim scaled the boulders like a giant ape he resembled. The Eagle Master found it more difficult, his boots often slipping out from under him. The Eagle Master bled from a cut on his forehead where he’d gashed it on a rock.

  Giant trees grew to fantastic heights, the steep cliffs no hindrance to their growing straight and mighty. It was strange how the rocks twisted upward in a narrow line, almost as if this had once been a stone construct. The leafy canopy shaded them in perpetual gloom, although here and there along the twisting river, sunlight slashed through. The mixture of shadows and sunlight, the constant roar, the wet rocks, the bear’s growing terror of its ascent…. Nyla panted as she clung to a rock, looking down. The path of tangled boulders always remained beside the river. There weren’t any other rocks on the almost vertical cliffs. And surprising as it might seem, these rocks ascended less steeply than the mountain, or the very nature of boulders allowed them handholds and places to rest.

  Earlier, when they’d trudged along the sandy beach, the steep cliffs had proved impossible to scale and there were no roads, not even the ruin of roads. It had baffled Dagon, until Ut suggested they use the river as their road. Rivers always found the path of least resistance.

  “Don’t rest here!” Dagon shouted. The Nephilim lifted Nyla, placing her on firmer footing.

  The bear now put a giant paw on a rock, settling its weight onto it. The boulder shifted. The bear slid sideways, until it pressed itself flat. The beast panted then, and something terrible radiated in its black eyes.

  Nyla tentatively waved it upward.

  The great bear glared at her. It was like a physical blow. Nyla steadied herself by leaning against a boulder. She recalled Chemosh’s mangled corpse and reached for her sash, for more theltocarna.

  Dagon must have read her mind. He put his hand on her wrist, shouting into her ear, “Save it for the Behemoth!”

  The great bear glared as it climbed, as if the beast blamed her for the rocks shifting under it.

  That goaded Nyla. She climbed faster, putting distance between them. The bear followed relentlessly, and each rock that shifted made it bawl with growing fury.

  Later, exhausted and as she looked for a way to scale a boulder, Dagon reached down as he grinned strangely. The Nephilim lifted her with ease. Her eyes widened as she landed, and her mouth went slack. She looked at him in wonder.

  “I was hoping this was the case!” Dagon shouted.

  Great stone stairs veered away from the plunging river and away from the boulders below. The stairs were huge and cracked in places. They seemed ancient, as if they’d been made in that distant era. That meant the boulders they’d been climbing had once been stairs. What had destroyed them? Lightning? An earthquake?

  “This is the Grand Ascent!” shouted Dagon. He reached down, pulling up Ut and then Radek. The bear had fallen farther behind, but the gargantuan beast still slunk toward them. Dagon shouted, “If this is the Grand Ascent…that would put the Glorious Way on the other side of the island. Yes, I know where we are now. The Field of War lies above. We’re almost there.”

  The others climbed and soon left the river-spray. Nyla waited for the bear, coaxing it over a boulder. The beast soon panted beside her, staring fixedly. She refused to show fear, but stroked the wall of wet fur, shouting loving words. The beast seemed unconvinced. Nyla fumbled in her sash and smeared theltocarna onto her palm. She brushed her palm on its protruding tongue. The bear licked with zest, terrifying her that it might bite off her hand. Seconds later, however, the beast nuzzled her, pushing her backward, blowing its meaty breath into her face.

  Nyla turned and climbed. The bear followed meekly. Soon the river’s roar lessened and their footsteps became audible. Even better, the spray didn’t reach this far and Nyla’s face and hair began to dry. She and the bear reached the others at a level area, a landing, and joined them in dried sloth meat and the last of the palm-wine.

  Dagon radiated confidence even as Ut, Radek and the Eagle Master became pensive, their features wan. The Eagle Master carried a saw-toothed scimitar and a spiked buckler as if he expected an attack any moment. He wore a bronze-studded corselet, with a barbed harpoon slung across his back. As they resumed the trek, Radek used his iron spear as a staff. He lurched like his following orn, his gaze fixed and his lips pressed with bitter resolve. Ut was like an old man, and he cradled his wounded arm. Behind him slunk the last of his hyenas.

  Nyla’s heartbeat quickened as perspiration oozed onto her forehead. With a sluggish step, she followed, even as she tugged at her collar.

  As they climbed, Dagon said, “The Shining Ones thought they could thwart the bene elohim as our ancestors took their leave of the Celestial Realm. It had become too small for them, too confined. They saw the ripe plum of the Earth and decided that they would set up kingdoms here and raise their own races after their image. They did not care that he who claimed to be Most High had decreed the
Earth for the cattle, the humans. He said it was their world. No! The bene elohim took what they desired. The Shining Ones and the bene elohim fought savagely because of it. Some claim Baal and his brethren lost that olden war. Anyone of reason can logically deduce that as false. The First Born remained on the Earth, as did their sons. If the Shining Ones had truly been victorious as those of false one claim, why are we yet here?”

  Nyla plodded up the stairs, only half-listening.

  “Great glory awaits us because we attempt a feat none of the bovine humans with their quaking fears would dare try,” said Dagon. “Could any of them march here to dominate the Behemoth? No! They are weak. They are cattle, while we have the blood of the high. After our feat today, we shall become gods. We of the blood shall rule forever, each with ten thousands maidens to rut.”

  Dagon bounded up the stairs. The others followed as best as they could. Nyla struggled as perspiration soaked her.

  I am of the fifth generation, Nyla told herself. Ut, Radek and the Eagle Master are of the fourth generation. They had more of the blood of the high. Therefore, they resisted the flame’s power better than she could. What would a world be as Dagon had just suggested? Would she find status in such a world? Or would she find servility, too low-blooded for high rank?

  “Nyla!” Dagon roared from above. “Hurry, bring the bear.”

  The apish Nephilim stood at the head of the stairs, standing in bright sunlight—and there were no more stairs above him. As Ut and Radek reached Dagon, looking into the distance, they too turned and shouted for the bear. Fear tinged their calls.

  “Come,” said Nyla, clutching the beast’s fur. She hurried, climbing for the top of the Grand Ascent.

  ***

  “That’s the Behemoth?” Nyla asked, awed.

  The great monster waded in the nearby water of the isle’s lake. The lake must have been spring-fed, as it rested in a high valley and no streams trickled down from the cliffs ringing the lake. There were various gaps in the cliffs, and Nyla suspected they led down to the Sea of Nur. The only visible outlet to the lake was the river they’d climbed beside for the past hour.