Into Eden: Pangaea - Book 1 (2 page)

“How’s our boy Perez, tonight?” the giant asked the dog.

“A little under the weather, I’m afraid. Good to see you Hezron.”

“Good to see you, Enoch.”

“What brings you here at this hour of the morning?” As the dog spoke, they could hear in the distance the dong of one bell from the town’s bell-tower.

“I have business with young Perez and Jesse…but I see that only Jesse is in any condition to hear it.”

The giant stood for a moment with his hands on his hips, staring at the passed-out youth. Finally, in obvious irritation he bellowed at one of the serving-girls, “Find this man a room! And get him out of here! He’ll pay you in the morning. I guarantee it!”

The girl disappeared for a moment through a swinging door behind the bar, tossing a towel on the counter as she went, and then reappeared with another girl of about the same age. They were both too young to be working in a place like this, Hezron thought. Neither could be more than eighty. Both wore the typical braids of the Foothills region and the long, modest dress that was common in the area. For a moment they just stared at Perez, seeming not to know how to proceed in moving such a large, immobile form.

“Get a move on, girls!” Hezron demanded. “Don’t you know how to drag a drunk?”

With that, one of the girls bent over and grabbed a boot while the other girl got a hold of the other. Then they both dragged him across the floor to the stairway leading up to the rooms, leaving a trail of beer and pee behind them as they went. They then proceeded up the stairs, Perez’s head clunking on every stair as they dragged him up.

“He’s gonna have one bugger of a headache in the morning,” Enoch observed.

Hezron turned from the spectacle, and ignored the thunk, thunk, thunk sound of Perez ascending the stairs.

“Jesse,” he said in a quieter tone, “it’s your father. He’s taken a turn for the worse. The doctor’s outside in his carriage. I told him to wait.”

“That’s okay,” Jessie replied, “I’ll get my horse.”

“I don’t think that you or Abijah are in any condition to ride. I’ve already ordered the stable-hand not to bring your horses around, but to put your saddles on the carriage by the driver. No point in taking chances. Doc Paron’s a good man, but he can’t heal a broken neck if you fall off. Now get go’n. He’s waiting for you.”

Jesse and Abijah left the inn immediately, Enoch trotting closely behind, but not before leaving an Atlantan gold denarius and some coppers on the table to cover the night’s expenses. Outside they found the doctor’s carriage pulled up in the White Moose’s circular stone drive by the fountain. Two of the horses were already tethered to the back and the stable-hand was leading out the third.

“That won’t be necessary,” Hezron called to the stable-hand from behind them. “One of the boys has decided to stay.”

The doctor’s driver opened the door to the carriage and Abijah and Jesse climbed in, sitting across from the gray-haired man clutching a leather doctor’s case. When Enoch leaped in behind them the driver protested, “Hey! No dogs in the carriage!”

“That’s quite alright,” the doctor told the driver. “Enoch’s a friend. He rides with us.”

The reproach clearly angered the driver, and Enoch didn’t help the situation by forcing a small, triumphant, pointed-tooth grin. Still, the driver held his tongue, but those in the carriage could hear him muttering something about “snotty spirit-hosts” under his breath as he climbed up onto the driver’s seat and urged the horse on.

“Perez not coming?” Doc Paron asked in surprise as the carriage started to roll down the stone pavement.

“Too much celebration can be exhausting,” Enoch replied.

“I see. Too much liquid celebration, I take it?”

Jesse started to answer, but when he opened his mouth to do so, the doctor just waved his hand at the youth, “Say no more. Your breath tells the whole story. Might want to chew on some cinnamon leaves before you face your mother.”

“You got some?” Abijah asked.

“No.” Then ignoring the boys, Doc Paron turned his attention to Enoch, “I thought that you were supposed to keep them out of trouble.”

“Me?! I’m just their pet mutt. Along for the ride. Besides, they never listen to me. They treat me like a dog.”

At that Abijah started to snicker until Jesse leaned over and whispered a barely audible, “Just be quiet.”

As the carriage approached the city’s old wall it suddenly stopped. “What’s wrong?” Abijah asked, ignoring Jesse’s earlier advice.

Without answering, Jesse opened the door and yelled at the driver, “What’s happening? Why are we stopping?”

“The gates are closed,” he replied. “Hezron’s orders. Something about lions on the road.”

“Told ya so,” Abijah whispered.

Jesse rolled his eyes and shouted back, “This is insane! There are no lions! There haven’t been in over three-hundred years!”

“Just the same, the governor’s ordered the gates closed every night until dawn until further notice. We have to wait until the watchman opens it. Shouldn’t take long.”

“This is stupid,” Jesse complained. “My father’s on his deathbed and we’re waiting on imaginary lions.”

“Patience, my dear boy,” Doc Paron urged him. “Your father’s a tough gi-nef. He’ll wait to tell his youngest son, ‘Goodbye.’ Besides, before the night is past he’ll be fit as a fiddle—like old Enoch here.”

This latter word wasn’t much of an encouragement to Jesse. His father, Nashon, had been ill for over a year. At nine-hundred and sixty-seven he was one of the oldest giants in all Atlantis, and one of a few remaining of a dying breed. In the capital city of Atlantis there were still a few giants, but there numbers were shrinking as the first generation of Nephilim giants, or gi-nefs as they were called, were dying off and the next generation showed a taste for human women. The bloodline of the sons of the gods was thinning, and with the passing of Nashon only Hezron would remain in the Foothills Province as a testament to their once dominance in human affairs. Jesse loved his father, and although his spirit would live on in some new spirit-host, the thought of not being able to see his face again was more grief than he thought that he could bear.

As if reading Jesse’s thoughts, Enoch spoke to encourage the young man, “The doctor’s right. Life in a spirit-host isn’t so bad! Look at me! I’ve barely skipped a beat! Now Nashon and I will have something else in common!” You see, Enoch was Nashon’s older brother.

Enoch meant the latter comment as a joke, but no one in the carriage felt like laughing.

Jesse looked outside to see one of Hezron’s men slowly walking to the gate to raise the bar. He looked bored, tired, and much too heavy to be in the Atlantan legion. But life in the Foothills borough of Albion lacked the soldierly pomp of Atlantis, and Hezron had long ago stopped drilling his men for war in a land that hadn’t seen it in nearly five-hundred years. Albion had been founded after the An-nef War as a fortress to guard Atlantis’ southern boundary and originally Hezron commanded a fighting force of a thousand men. Now Hezron’s garrison numbered twenty bored, fat, lazy men, who were irritated at having to stand night watches and open gates that were closed to keep out imaginary lions.

When the gate opened the driver drove the horse on. The boys and one spirit-host rode in silence as the carriage bounced past houses in the outer town, built up outside the walls in the small-town version of urban sprawl.

Yet quiet as he was, Enoch’s sullen mind was racing. A few miles to the south and west his older brother lay on a bed in his estate dying. He would be—no doubt—surrounded by his grieving wives and children. One hundred and twenty years ago on an estate just a few miles south of there on what was known as the Southern Highway, Enoch had lain on a bed breathing his last breath. Then only Nashon sat beside his bed. Enoch’s wives and children were busy with more important things than attending to a dying giant. In life, he knew, he had been a gruff man, impatient with his children and harsh with his wives. In death, only Nashon was there. Nashon had brought a large black dog and chained it to the foot of Enoch’s mammoth wooden bed. The dog had been bred solely for this purpose. When Enoch’s body died, his spirit would live on housed in this animal’s flesh—at least that was the theory. Lying in bed, his lungs filling with fluid and too weak to even raise his head, he remembered staring at the ceiling and wondering if this would work. And what if it did not? What fate did the gods decree for gi-nefs that were so loathed by their own families that not even their children attended their deaths? If he could have lived his life over again he would have been kinder—he was sure of it. But when death was upon him he could do nothing but regret and fear. Even then, Nashon encouraged him, “C’on now. You can do this,” he told him. “By the gods, you can do this, Enoch.”

When the time did come, it came unexpectedly, in the wee hours of the morning. Enoch remembered that he had fallen asleep, exhausted, but when he awoke he found himself looking down on his brother sleeping in the chair beside the bed, with a candle nearly burned down on the stand beside him. It was then that he realized that he could also see his own body on the bed below. This realization sent him into a panic. Where was the dog, he thought?! Behind the massive footboard he could hear a light snoring and he focused on the sound. In so doing he felt himself drifting toward the foot of the bed and the dog sleeping below. He remembered the relief of actually being able to see it chained there, and then focusing on the dog itself—trying to push himself without arms or legs toward the animal’s head. In seconds the dog became closer. In a moment he realized that he was seeing through the animal’s eyes and that the animal wanted him out. In unspoken, animal instinct he could hear it fighting him, “What’s happening? No! Go!” But Enoch would not go. He fought back and held on to its consciousness.

Suddenly he realized that the dog was awake and he was seeing through its eyes. Nashon was on his feet now, and the dog that Enoch was struggling with was howling.

“Enoch!” Nashon yelled. “Is that you? Can you hear me?”

Enoch tried to reply that he could, but all that came out was a half-howl half-cry, “Arrouuugh!”

Now the animal inside the dog’s head was starting to quiet. He could sense its presence, though. It was not terribly bright—even for a dog—but it was allowing him to take control, yielding its consciousness to his.

“Yes, it’s me,” but even now it still came out, “Es itz eee.” He took in a deep breath, and tried it again, slowly, “Yeees, it is meee.”

Nashon ran over to him and gave him a big hug, then scratched his ears. Strangely, it felt good.

Chapter 3
Bolts and Spears

Beyond the town wall the stone pavement ended and the carriage bounced as it headed south, jostling its passengers back and forth. Though the drive would be six miles and would take them about an hour, the occupants of the carriage rode in silence, staring out at the world on this moon-lit night. As they approached the bridge south of town the carriage turned west, and Jesse looked off through a window to his left at the bridge on the road just south of them. Under the moonlight he thought that he could see riders. Who would be coming into Albion at this time of night? And was that a chariot leading the way? The only person in the Foothills that still rode in a chariot that he knew of was Hezron, and they had left him behind in town. But as the carriage moved forward the images by the bridge faded in the darkness and his thoughts drifted back to those of his father.

Soon they were at Nashon’s estate. Built in what was now known as the “old style” it featured a large courtyard surrounded by continuous complex of buildings constructed of granite, with a roof of slate. The complex housed the main estate, a stable, a barn, a bunk house and two servants’ quarters. Entrance to the courtyard was only through a wrought-iron gate, but the gate had not been closed in three-hundred years—since the days when the last of the lions roamed the foothills. Yet tonight the gate was closed, and Abijah’s father Asa stood by to open it.

“Asa,” yelled Jesse as the carriage waited for Asa to swing the gate open. “Who ordered the gates to be shut?”

“Why your brother, of course. He’s heard tales of lions from your brothers and sisters that have come up from the south to see your father.”

“Has anyone actually
seen
these lions?” Jesse demanded.

“Why no…I think not,” Asa replied. “But everyone says it’s so.”

Jesse gritted his teeth.

Enoch couldn’t resist a little smile.

The carriage pulled up to the estate’s main entrance and Jesse could see perhaps a dozen horses tethered to a hitching post outside of the stable, as well as three buckboards and a carriage. It made for a crowded courtyard. As they approached the mansion, Jesse jumped out, with Enoch following close behind.

“Jesse!” yelled Enoch. “I need to speak to you a moment.”

“What is it?”

“In private.”

Jesse crouched down so that he could look the dog in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” Enoch told him, “perhaps it’s better if I keep a safe distance. Your father may not be able to focus clearly if there are two dogs in the room.”

Jesse started to protest, and then considered the matter. Enoch had raised a frightening prospect. How many spirits could inhabit a host at one time? He’d heard stories of gi-nefs in Atlantis who had died and “leaped” into hosts that were already inhabited. The result had been insanity, for many dogs could not accommodate multiple spirits.

“Perhaps you’re right. You can spend the night with Abijah.”

Jesse then pulled Abijah aside and asked that he let Enoch spend the night with him.

“Sure!” Abijah said loudly. “He can spend the night at our quarters.” Then, turning to Enoch he declared, “They’ll let us know if anything happens.”

“You bet we will!” Jesse exclaimed. “And Abijah: Make sure Enoch gets let out in the morning!” At that Enoch looked at Jesse and growled. The indignity of living in a dog was one thing. Discussing his necessaries in public was another.

When Jesse opened the massive, high doors that opened into the mansion’s main entryway, he was faced with a couple dozen of his half-brothers and sisters. So many people jammed the room that it was impossible to move through the crowd to get to the stairway that led to his father’s room. In his haste to reach his father, he had forgotten that the doctor was with him until Doc Paron spoke in his ear, “Tell them to move. I have to get to him.”