Giants (14 page)

His water-skin sloshed at his side, and his kit banged against his thigh. The tall grass was dry, waving at his hips. In another half-month the wild grains would ripen.

Later Herrek turned north at a boulder where baboons screamed at them and threw rotten rinds. Two big males with lion-like manes leaped off the rock and followed Joash until Koton came back with raised hackles. The baboons shied away from Koton and left Joash alone. Later, off to Joash’s left, a lumbering elk with an incredible spread of antlers brayed. Two does trotted toward him.

The ground rose slowly, and the smell changed from a damp one to a dusty, grit-filled one. The boulder-strewn lichen-filled hills stood before them. It would take until dark tonight, some sleep, and into tomorrow morning before they reached the hills. They traveled parallel with the river far off in the distance, toward what looked like a gap, or perhaps a pass. The hills didn’t look inviting, but like an escarpment unnaturally raised on the barren steppes. Various herds dotted the plains, and here and there purple flowers, red ones, or even orange ones broke up the monotony of the yellow stalks waving in the wind.

A dire wolf howled as the sun began its long descent toward the horizon, but they saw no sign of the beast.

Koton trotted beside Joash, and that got him to wondering about Harn. Had Zillith been able to save him? He hoped so. In fact, thinking about Harn finally brought a smile to Joash’s dry lips. Harn was to be his if the dog survived the horrible wound.

“And if I survive,” Joash whispered to himself.

Harn was possibly of the Azarel line, a legacy from the legendary past. Didn’t Gens wish to search the world for Shining One horses? Why then was it impossible for Harn to be of an ancient line? No, whatever else they were, the traders of Further Tarsh usually told the truth about what they sold. The problem was, they seldom told the whole truth, or that’s what Zillith often said.

Around mid-afternoon, Herrek called a halt between a triangle of trees. The ground was soggy, the grass green and thick. Joash found himself digging a hole. The mud was heavy and slopped off the shovel, and despite the shade, sweat dripped from Joash’s face. As the hole deepened, muddy water seeped in from the sides. Finally Herrek called a halt to the digging. Joash went to the chariot and took a tin cup, silk, and a folded leather bucket from the kit-box. Squatting by the hole, and after stretching the silk over the bucket’s top, he used the tin cup to pour muddy water over the silk. When the bucket of cleaned water was full he first let Galay drink his fill. After all the stallions were watered he brought a half-bucket of water to Gens. Gens boiled the water and prepared a cup of bitter tea for each of them.

By this time the sun was halfway down from its midday perch. The worst of the heat was over, and already a nearby herd of bison moved with greater alacrity than before. The bison lowed to one another, while several calves romped and played.

Joash sipped his tea, trying to imagine what it would be like to walk alone through even a small herd of bison. He looked at the long spread of horns, at the bleary eyes of the biggest bulls. Bison were notoriously short tempered. One wrong move would send a bull charging. He nodded, finishing his tea. It wasn’t surprising that it took vicious pack-beasts like dire wolves to live off the long-horned bison, or massive monsters like sabertooths, or giant birds like orns. He wondered if human nomads could live here, or only the dreaded giants of the First Born Jotnar?

Joash rinsed his cup and did likewise for the others. They were strangely silent. Beautiful Adah studied Elidad’s map. Even now, Joash watched her more than he did the others. Her lips moved soundlessly, her gaze intense. Perhaps she tried to decipher the various marks along the map’s sides.

“What’s it made out of?” Joash asked her.

Gens looked up sharply. He’d been carving pictures of horses onto the back of birch-bark. Herrek frowned, but didn’t stop sharpening his sword. He no longer used a whetstone, but a stiff, thick piece of bison leather. Elidad, who rubbed the emeralds in the palm of his left hand, hissed between his teeth. Adah didn’t bother to look up, although Joash noticed that her fingers tightened. He could tell because her fingertips, the part under the nails, turned white. The parchment didn’t crinkle at such treatment. It creaked like ship-cordage.

Joash quailed. Was the magic gaining strength? Was it like a python, which Adah had told him about, that gained hold of a creature and squeezed with increasing might? Somehow, he had to shake the emeralds’ hold on the others. If he didn’t—

“Death,” he whispered.

“Eh?” Elidad asked. “What did you say?” He’d put the emeralds back in the leopard-skin pouch, and then attached the pouch to his belt. He studied Joash with a crafty glint.

Joash tried to grin, but grimaced instead. “I wondered what kind of parchment Adah reads.”

Elidad nodded encouragingly.

“It, ah...” Out of the corner of his eye Joash saw that Herrek was absorbed with his sharpening, Gens with his picture carving, and Adah with her deciphering. Only Elidad and he seemed to be aware of their surroundings.

“The parchment strikes me as strange,” Joash said.

“You’re perceptive,” Elidad said. “Yes. The parchment rolls well, and isn’t thick yet it’s almost impossible to tear. It isn’t sheep-skin, or deer-skin of any kind I’ve seen.” Elidad leaned toward him and lowered his voice. “I think the parchment is derived from a legendary creature. There’s a strange aspect to the skin...”

“What kind of creature?” Joash asked.

Elidad blinked several times, as if trying to draw himself out of a bizarre dream. “A strange parchment, made in olden times. Made from a legendary creature.”

Joash nodded encouragingly.

“Slith.”

Joash frowned, never having heard of such a creature.

“They were strange beasts with monstrous bat-like wings, and with huge jaws that came to a needle-sharp point,” Elidad said. “They were terrible flying monsters. Fit material indeed from which to make the map of the ages.”

Elidad was speaking about pterodactyls. So why did he call them slith? “How did you guess that?” Joash asked.

A troubled smile crept onto Elidad’s lips. “I don’t know. It...” The smile turned crafty. He shrugged. “Let us speak, you and me.” He beckoned Joash to follow him to the stallions.

None of the others glanced up, but continued their chosen occupations.

Elidad stepped beside Pondon, putting a big hand on the stallion’s flank. “You spoke before of a scabbard decked with emeralds. Did you not?”

Joash nodded.

Elidad’s smile grew. “Yes, like me you understand the true value of what we’ve found. The treasure isn’t there to help fight giants or to glean useless secrets. It’s there to be gathered, to be put into sacks, and then later at home into priceless jars.” The smile became craftier. “You wonder upon things, Groom. I like that. Pretty Adah, the one you moon over—” Elidad laughed sharply at Joash’s reaction. “Don’t look so shocked. It’s obvious you’re a moonstruck calf when it comes to her. Adah reads the map, but that’s because she can think of nothing else but secrets, lost lore, and the hidden plans of Nephilim. She doesn’t take time to ponder what the map is made from. She will never see things for what they are. Nor, I think, will she ever notice you as a man.” Elidad stepped near and put his hand on Joash’s shoulder. “She’s not like you and I.” The big fingers squeezed in a comradely fashion.

Joash smiled, hoping to understand Elidad and maybe get his hands on the emeralds. He was appalled that the warrior could tell he liked Adah. But that wasn’t important now. Somehow, he had to free the others from the baleful magic.

“I knew from the beginning that Lord Uriah came here because of a hidden purpose.” Elidad took his hand away and snorted, “Capture steppe ponies and sell them to the Lords of Caphtor. Hah. A ploy. A story for the simple-minded.” He nudged Joash with his elbow. “But Elidad, son of Joha, is no fool, eh? I asked myself, ‘Why does Lord Uriah travel to Giant Land? If to gather steppe ponies, why not send Herrek or another champion? Why would the Patriarch, the very heart of Elon, risk himself in Giant Land?’ Ah, I knew Uriah plotted bigger.” Elidad tapped the leopard-skin pouch. “Here is the hidden purpose, treasure untold, treasure to make a man rich beyond reckoning.” Elidad leaned closer, the smell of tea on his breath. “Treasure enough so a man could leave his clan and set out on his own. Maybe enough to build his
own
clan. Yes, I knew and was the first to join the adventure. Now my foresight has been rewarded.”

Joash swallowed uneasily.

“This is a barren land,” Elidad said, eyeing Joash closely. “It would be easy to become lost here.”

“True.”

“But two men with two chariots could easily transverse it.”

 “Loaded with emeralds?” Joash whispered.

Elidad slapped Joash on the back. Then he stepped close and turned his back toward the others. He clutched Joash’s throat. Dry, evil menace filled Elidad’s voice. “Dare to tell the others about my words, I’ll call you a liar, and drive my sword through your heart. Dare to try to thwart me from my treasure, or to steal from me, and I’ll stake you to the steppes and drive bison over you. Do you understand?”

Joash could barely nod.

“Good.” Elidad released his hold, smiled, and patted him on the back. “You’re a wise lad. I like you. Make certain you remain a man of your word.”

Joash rubbed his throat, bewildered. The emeralds’ baleful power was driving them mad, making their deepest desires come bubbling to the fore. What should he do?

“Groom?” Elidad asked, suspiciously.

Joash looked into the bloodshot eyes. “You can depend on me, Warrior. I’ll do everything I must.”

“Splendid,” Elidad said.

They walked to the fire.  Herrek quietly set aside his sharpening tools, Gens bundled his birch-bark, and Adah rolled the map and stuck it in her sash. They boarded the chariots and headed toward the hills.

They didn’t stop until the sun sank into the distant horizon, and the stars appeared. The stars shined brightly in the clear air. Far off to the east the half-moon rose. Dire wolves howled. Sabertooths roared. The distant thunder of hooves told of a chase. Joash waited as he rubbed oil into a pair of reins, hoping to hear the trumpet of mammoths. Instead he heard the creak of boot-leather and the soft chink of chainmail.

He turned.

Herrek stood beside him. The warrior held onto his spear and shield, looking longingly at the dark hills. He wore his helmet, the nasal-guard snug over his nose. Herrek blew out his cheeks impatiently.

Joash saw Adah laying on her bedroll. Koton stood beside her, yawning. Gens withdrew dung from the dung-sack and tossed it into the fire. It stank, but it gave them a flame. All day long Joash had been filling the sack with dried bison chips. Elidad already snored, his body between the parked chariots.

“I long to meet them,” Herrek said softly.

Joash folded the reins and capped the oil flask.

Herrek glanced at him. “Are you ready, Groom?”

“Warrior?”

“Are you ready to face the evil foe?”

“Nephilim?”

Herrek grunted, shifting his hold on the oblong shield.

“Do you think giants will be at the cave?”

“They must
be there.” Herrek looked longingly at the dark hills. “I came to Giant Land to challenge the enemy. I knew that something of this sort must be in my great, great grandfather’s heart. He’s a cunning man. He does not leave the center of his kingdom to chase after illusionary quests. Therefore I was honored when he chose me to be his champion.” Herrek expanded his chest. “Elidad spoke with you before, no doubt encouraging you to be bold. I, too, challenge you to face the enemy as you did Balak when you charged him. Hold your spear with courage. Thrust the spear-point at his eyes. Make him blink. Make him turn away.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Herrek gave him a quizzical glance.

“I-I haven’t been trained yet, Lord.”

Herrek stepped back and lifting his shield. In a smooth motion he reversed his grip on the spear and held it over his shoulder in the casting position. “Notice how I balance the spear.”

Joash did.

“Hold your spear likewise.”

Joash tried. The spearhead dipped.

“No! Find the balance point, where neither end wavers.”

Joash finally got it.

“Now
heave
!” Herrek hurled his spear. It flashed into the darkness. With a roar he drew his blade and bounded after the spear. In moments, Herrek stood beside him again. He breathed heavily. “In a like manner, I will charge the hated enemy.”

Joash stood motionless, the spear still over his shoulder. Herrek never bragged nor tried to overawe him. Perhaps, though, in the depths of his heart, this is how Herrek saw himself: a fierce warrior, a champion of Clan Teman, of Elon. But did Herrek really believe he could slay giants by himself?

“Cast your weapon. Let the lesson begin.”

It wasn’t until the half-moon was high in the sky that Herrek let him quit. Joash’s arm was sore, although his throwing technique had improved. It was a lot like javelin throwing, except you had to put your body into the cast more and snap your arm just so. As he lay down Joash glanced at Herrek. The tall warrior strode around the camp. Joash hoped he would tire in time to catch some sleep. But maybe Herrek was too eager to lie down. Then, Joash recalled the emeralds. Now would be the perfect time to try to steal them.