by Cully Mack
‘Danger? What do you mean?’
‘If only I had realised the size of the ships but they looked so small on the horizon.’
‘What are you saying? You’re not making any sense.’
‘They weren’t ships from around here. If I had known, I would have sent Terra to warn your people. You have to realise; I could do nothing.’
As Gabe listened a gust of wind carried a haunting death stench up his nostrils. The smell of burnt flesh lingered in the back of his throat. As much as he tried to expel it, he could taste the essence of humanity.
‘When I reached the cliffs the attack had already begun. I searched for you but you were not there. So I sent Terra to find you. I couldn’t let you go back last night. It was too dangerous. You would have been killed.’
Leaning over, he urged and vomited the half-digested residue of red deer stew.
Meciel rushed forward.
Gabe ran.
Over his footsteps, he heard Meciel shouting, ‘Stop, you don’t know what you’re running into!’
He did not stop but raced the surging river down the ravine. He sped past the deep reservoir of water, vacant of the usual bathers and joined the trail which led to a narrow rock plateau running alongside the entrance to the rock shelters.
The sky hung low, the colour of dirty snow. All around, embers fell like red ochre leaves, dancing in the currents of the breeze. As they touched the soft earth in front of the plateau, the ground smouldered.
And there, stacked in a monstrous central fire pit, were the bodies of his fellow clan members—piled high as if on an altar to the gods, still burning. Horrified, he bolted towards the rock shelter entrance and raced through tunnels until he came to his family’s shelter.
‘Ma, Mirah,’ he cried.
No one answered.
He darted through a series of interconnecting tunnels, searching each shelter until he reached a large circular cavern. The cavern revealed intricate charcoal paintings of lions, oxen, and bears. Beneath them were crocodiles and hippopotamuses submerged between undulating lines.
On the far side, stencilled handprints traversed the wall reaching up over the ceiling creating the form of an ancient tree. Each print represented the younger members of the clan’s transition into manhood.
Instinct made Gabe look over at his own, as he always did on entering the circle, but he expected no overwhelming sense of pride today. Beneath the blood-spattered wall lay the bodies of many of the elder women, his Ma among them.
Throwing himself on the ground beside her, he cradled her in his arms. He glanced around for Mirah but she was not among the dead. After kissing his Ma on the forehead he lay her down, gently taking the shard of green glass hung on a leather string around her neck. He slipped it over his head and retraced his steps to return outside.
Without letting his gaze fall on the smouldering mound, he headed for the bay. He passed charred remains of the goat and fowl pens which he’d spent the previous spring erecting and stepped over discarded wooden spears.
The body of an Elder lay on the ground, the back of his head crushed in. On the beach, more bodies, younger, fitter were scattered around. It was clear they had rallied together when the first line closer to the shoreline fell.
Blood oozing from corpses ran in rivulets towards the shore and merged with the splintered remains of the dock and small fishing vessels. He searched the beach, no one had survived.
Carrion birds descended to gorge themselves on flesh and drink blood. Gabe screamed and flapped his arms to shoo them away but there were too many.
He wretched again, but there was nothing left inside him. Everywhere death’s aroma sought him out, so he walked to the far edge of the beach, sat on a rock and focused on the horizon.
Crunching bones, ripping flesh, and squawks from bickering carrion ceased when a shadow emerged and emitted a piercing screech. The carrion made a rapid ascent. Terra flew over Gabe’s head and landed on the rocks behind.
A short time later Meciel came and sat beside him. Neither spoke. They watched the sun dip lower and violets and blues swam across the sky.
‘Who could have done this?’ Gabe asked, in tears.
‘Nephilim.’ Meciel pointed towards huge indented footprints pressed into the sand. ‘They are giants, a hybrid offspring of the Watchers who descended from the sky.’
‘But why?’
‘They take women for wives and to build their armies.’
‘My sister?’
‘Taken, I expect.’
‘I have to find her.’
‘That’s impossible. Even if you could find her they would kill you before you got close.’ Meciel stood. ‘Before it’s too dark, I should take care of your people. I’m sorry I can’t offer them a proper burial but I can at least purify their remains. Don’t step off the rock.’ Meciel lifted his rod and faced the dead bodies of the clan. ‘Puroo,’ he called out.
On the beach each corpse, in turn, engulfed in a fiery blanket, burning quickly to ash.
‘My Ma and others are inside.’
As they made their way back to the rock shelters they heard sobbing coming from the latrines. Gabe lifted the lids one by one until he found, crouching in the waste, a lad with his face tucked down deep between his cradled legs.
The lad lifted his head. ‘Gabe? Is that you?’
‘Tam?’
Gabe helped him climb out and led him down to the shoreline to wash.
He picked up a discarded slingshot, selected a handful of rounded stones and began launching them out to sea. In the darkness, a plopping sound confirmed when they landed.
He wondered how he was going to save Mirah. He didn’t know where she’d been taken. All he knew was he’d need the one thing he didn’t have, a boat. And what of Nuri? He wouldn’t be able to find her now. In his heart, he refused to let her go.
‘I will come for you soon, I promise.’
Frustrated, he walked further along the beach kicking at clumps of seaweed. He was about to return when a shimmer in the sand caught his eye. Brushing sand away exposed a long length of metal he’d never seen before. He dragged it along the beach towards Meciel and Tam who was now dressing.
Meciel stepped forward to get a closer examination. ‘It’s a sword. It reminds me of a sword I once saw—’ He stopped himself from disclosing anything further. ‘Can I see it?’
Gabe passed him the sword.
‘Look at the glyphs carved into the blade. If you give me some time I will decipher them.’
‘It’s death, Gabe, that’s what it is and I don’t want it anywhere near me,’ Tam said, storming off to sit on the rocks.
Gabe chased after him wondering if Terra would descend. She was more than he thought Tam could handle right now. As Gabe sat, Tam lifted his rusty coloured cap and replaced it.
‘Did anyone escape?’
‘I don’t know, maybe.’
‘What about Eran?’
‘The last I saw he ran forward with the others.’
‘Your Ma?’
‘We were by the goat pens when they attacked. I’ve never seen anything like it. They were huge with long rusty coloured hair. Their faces, fierce like lions but not. I can’t explain it. They even stalked like lions, stealthy, chasing their prey before they struck. Ma told me to hide. As I ran towards the latrines, I heard her screaming. I would have stayed, you know I would, but she’d told me.’
‘It’s all right Tam.’
‘No, it’s not. She’s dead because of me. They all are. And I’m only alive because the stench of shit masked my scent.’
‘Whatever this is. It’s not because of you.’
Meciel hefted the sword onto his shoulder and walked over.
‘From what I can tell it reveals the history of the blade. See this symbol here?’ Meciel pointed to a series of small dots and dashes, above them were two vertical lines, and above them a half crescent. ‘This represents its owner, someone named Bishnor. And this symbol here, the circle with
in a circle is a symbol for oath bearer. The dots and dashes to the side read Shemyaza. The glyphs reveal that Bishnor is a son of Shemyaza. The other symbols will take time to translate. But what is of importance is the name Shemyaza. When he came down from the heavens, he created an empire to the north east in the mountains of Hermonial. They will take your sister there.’
‘I’m going back to my shelter to sort supplies,’ Gabe said. ‘In the morning I’m leaving. Will you both help me?’
‘Are you insane? They are giants. You see what they did here,’ said Tam.
‘I don’t care. It’s Mirah. I won’t abandon her.’
Gabe stood and stared at Meciel.
‘I can see you will go whether I assist or not,’ said Meciel. ‘Tonight let’s sleep. It’s a long journey. We had better rest until morning.’
❊ 1 ❊
Mirah concentrated hard until she timed her breathing with the rhythmic rotation of the ship’s oars. Though she succeeded in slowing her pounding heart, memories of yesterday pushed themselves to the surface panicking her to the point of dizziness.
Several other girls from her clan sat huddled with her in silence, listening beyond the sound of creaking beams and drips of salty water to the footsteps on the deck above.
‘Where do you think they are taking us?’ Neviah asked.
‘Shh,’ Mirah whispered. ‘I don’t know.’
Neviah lowered her voice, ‘Do you think they mean to—’ She glanced around at the others and decided not to continue.
‘I don’t think so. They would have done it by now.’
‘But what do they want then? Some of them, the tall ones, they didn’t even look like men. Did you see them? Where do you think they come from?’
‘Please be quiet, Nev, let me think.’
She glared at Neviah, her pleading green eyes willing her to stay silent, fearing the sound of their voices might alert the men above.
Neviah threaded slender fingers through her long auburn hair and tugged it to the side. It was a habit she’d done since childhood whenever she became agitated.
‘Of course, you are right, we need to figure out a plan,’ Neviah said.
Mirah rubbed her forehead.
A voice above them hitched onto the wind and sent a howling reverberation into the hold. The dialect was unfamiliar, but the tone was clear, the sound of mastery, influence and power. The oars picked up speed, and the vessel tilted. They were turning.
Damp from the wooden beams had seeped through Mirah’s skirts and her legs ached when she stood. Unbalanced by the vessel’s surging and swaying, she took tentative steps forward and peered through an oar-hole. She could see another level below them with oars propelling the vessel through the swell.
From beyond the stern of the ship, the sun dimmed and rested from its labour, and the deep black sea merged with the darkening sky. Speckles of starlight sparkled to life as Mirah breathed in the salt air.
She wondered if Gabe had returned from collecting Shrooms and seen the devastation. Would he realise they were missing or presume them dead with the rest?
She suppressed the screams, the horror and brought her mind into the present. She needed to focus on the now. Neviah was right to question their motives, but she contemplated questions Mirah didn’t know how to answer. Why were they taken and not slaughtered along with their clan? She returned to the others. At least nestled together she didn’t feel so alone.
The gentle rise and swell of the ship brought little sleep. Throughout the night most of the girls broke into whimpering cries of grief.
After sunrise, Abela doubled over wheezing and gasping for air. Mirah rushed to her side and brushed golden strands of hair from her face.
‘Abela, Abela, focus on me,’ she said, as she leaned over her.
Abela was now arching her back, flipping and gulping for air like a fish pulled from a stream.
‘Relax, try to breathe, slow and easy.’
Ayla hurried over and with her skirts, she gently stretched a layer of fabric over Abela’s gasping mouth. ‘Look at me, Abela. Steady breaths, remember?’
The other girls stood and fanned their skirts, sending a cooling breeze towards Abela who now laid on the floor; her faced flushed drawing on the air through the fabric. Mirah rummaged in a pouch tied at her waist. She pulled out a root of ginger and snapped off a small piece, offering it to Abela.
‘Don’t swallow it, just chew. It will help.’ Turning to Ayla, she said, ‘We need water and we need to get out of this damp, stuffy hold.’
The rasps in Abela’s breathing became less frequent. So they assisted her beneath one of the ship’s oar-holes and let the coolness of the sea breeze open her airways.
They had been sitting there for hours, each lift of the waves drawing them further from the rock shelters they once called home when a latch scraped overhead. A hatch opened and a channel of light illuminated the hold.
A silhouetted figure descended the cedar beamed stairway. He stopped at the base of the steps, black calf-length boots secured his footing with practised ease. He glanced around, his head nodding as though counting they were all in attendance. Satisfied, he beckoned a second man who carried a bucket of water.
He placed the bucket on the deck and gestured for them to drink. The girls needed no further convincing. They gathered around and drank from the ladle. Each gulp cleansing the fiery ache in their throats.
‘Give me your names and I’ll arrange food,’ the first man said.
It wasn’t a question. He expected them to fulfil his command.
He was tall and broad-shouldered but nowhere near as tall as the giants Mirah presumed were on the deck above. Sunlight filtering down the stairwell magnified the sheen on his wavy, onyx hair.
He wore a raven black jacket, buttoned up to the collar with an emblem stitched in gold peeking out from underneath a deep blue cloak. The emblem's stitching was eloquent but too concealed for Mirah to make out its full form. He studied them as they drank. As much as she resolved glare back at him, she had to glance away.
‘You,’ he said, pointing forward, ‘name?’
‘Dara,’ replied the eldest of the group, a slender girl who until yesterday had cared for the clan’s chickens.
‘I’ve heard of Dara,’ he mused, ‘it means pearl of wisdom. Does it not?’
Dara shrugged, not sure how to answer.
‘And you. What is your name?’
‘Huldah.’
The man smirked. ‘Well, I hope you don’t put that to the test. I can assure you, you won’t get far.’
Huldah meant quick as a weasel and although she resembled one with her mink coloured hair and button nose, she had not been favoured with the gift of speed.
His focus turned towards Abela leant against the side of the ship sipping from the ladle held out to her.
‘My name is Ayla, and this is my sister Abela.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘She suffers from the Shaaph.’
He studied Abela with a hint of compassion and Mirah took the opportunity to explain.
‘She means she has wheezing breath.’
‘I understand what it means,’ he said, tilting his head towards her.
His eyes, the colour of pale blue sea glass searched for any sign of her thoughts.
‘And you are?’
‘My name is Mirah. She needs fresh air. All of us do. And some hot water for ginger tea.’
‘Does she now? And what do you know of ginger tea?’
‘I understand a few things. My Ma is the heal—’ Mirah stopped herself realising her Ma was no longer the healer of anyone. The hull closed in around her, with nowhere to find solace and no way to escape these men, she pushed back unshed tears, refusing to let them see.
Neviah stood, clenched fists on hips, before pulling her fingers through her hair. ‘What is the purpose of this? You slaughter our families, tear us from our homes and you want to know our names. Why? Why do you care about our names
?’
‘I will throw overboard whoever does not give me their name… that’s the only ‘why’ you need to know.’
The muscles in his sturdy physique tensed as he dropped his hand and rested it upon an ornately carved lion head protruding from a sheath at his side. He stepped forward.
Neviah’s eyes narrowed, the only sign she seethed inside. She glanced at his sword. ‘Nev, my name is Nev.’
Victory gained, he turned to leave. The other man went to retrieve the bucket.
‘Leave it,’ he ordered. When he reached the top of the cedar steps he said, ‘If you didn’t already know, there’s power in a name.’
The hatch closed behind them.
‘There’s power in a name,’ Neviah mimicked. She flopped onto a bedroll. ‘Who does he think he is?’
Huldah pushed her hand against her stomach. ‘I wonder if they’ll bring food soon?’
They were starved but thankful at least for the water.
An hour later the hatch reopened, and an arm waved from above ushering them to follow.
As they made to climb the steps Neviah whispered to Mirah, ‘Whatever they say, whatever they ask, don’t tell them about Gabe.’
‘Why would they ask about Gabe?’
‘I don’t know. I have an uneasy feeling. What if there really is power in a name?’
They assembled in a cluster on the ship’s deck. Land had slipped off the horizon and left nothing but ocean. The sun hung low in a hazy blue sky and Mirah guessed it would soon be mid-morning.
The crew on board busied themselves adjusting ropes or washing down cedar beams and near the bow, some of them dangled overboard grappling with nets. Every now and then one of the crew gave sly glances in their direction. Mirah had to give them credit the vessel was spotlessly clean.
A man with dark hair tied tight in a bun ushered them forward to a set of barrels and told them to sit. Two men arrived, placing a jug of water and a tray of fruits on an empty barrel and gestured for them to eat. Their stomachs grumbled in protest as they stared at the fruit, each one hesitant to go first.
‘It’s not poisoned,’ said the man who’d asked for their names, coming up behind them.
