The Tree of Life (Lost Civilizations: 3) (15 page)

Lersi bowed even lower, playing the frightened slave.

“No. Don’t grovel. Speak.”

Lersi told Tarag where the Seraph and his companions were.

Tarag sternly ordered Motsognir, “Signal Ymir. He’s closest to them.”

Motsognir Stone Hands lifted his silver horn, and blasted pre-selected notes to the scouts. All the giants arose, as well as the Gorts. They hurried toward the place where the Seraph had last been seen.

***

“Look!” Herrek cried.

Joash clung to the steep cliff like a fly. He turned his head and peered back. A lone, white-haired giant hurried after them. In the giant’s hands, there was a spear.

“Faster!” Sungara shouted.

“Ymir,” Joash said, under his breath.

“What was that?” Herrek asked. He had just pushed Harn over a steep spot. Now the big dog bounded ahead of them

“It’s Ymir One-Eye,” Joash said. “See, you can tell by the eye-patch.”

“Climb!” Sungara shouted. “If you can see an eye-patch, then you’re too close.”

Joash climbed. Old Ymir One-Eye was after them. That was bad. Ymir was older than Mimir. Ymir had fought in the Accursed War and had won great glory during it. From hints that Joash had heard when he’d been with the giants, he believed that Ymir One-Eye might be the oldest giant on Earth. Ymir was cunning and tireless. However, it had seemed to Joash that Ymir finally approached the end of his years. If this attempt had been made five hundred years ago, to storm Eden, then Ymir, and not Mimir, would have led the giants. Because of his loss of prowess, Ymir was now of lesser rank.

Whether of high or low rank, Joash was certain that cunning Ymir, ancient, war wise and a glorious warrior, was more than a match for the three of them.

“Climb,” Sungara shouted. “Climb faster!”

Joash grimly climbed faster.

Old Ymir reached the bottom of the rise. He didn’t start up directly after them, but picked up a rock and hurled it.

Joash heard the clack beneath him. The rock had struck uncomfortably near. He paused, and peered down, as Ymir threw again. The rock sped up, seemed to lose power—it gave Joash a funny sensation to watch this slowing rock speed toward him—then the rock struck the mountain twenty feet below.

“We’re barely out of his range,” Joash said.

“Climb!” Sungara roared.

Joash climbed. He looked back later. Ymir had started up the mountain. He wasn’t directly beneath them, but to the left. Joash recalled how the fiends had chased up Eden’s mountain after Irad.

By the time Ymir was halfway up—he climbed incredibly fast—Sungara reached the top. The Huri snaked down a rope and helped Joash and Herrek. A plateau greeted them, which slowly went downward into the distance. Boulders rose here and there, and in a few spots, trees. Otherwise, the plateau looked barren and lifeless.

“I don’t see any chariot,” Herrek said quietly.

Joash also scanned the terrain. Finally, he shouted, “Over there! I see a swirl of dust in the air.”

“Yes,” Herrek said. “It’s chariot dust.”

“Go,” Sungara said grimly. He shoved them in the direction of the chariot. Then he turned and faced Ymir, as he put an arrow to his bow. “I guard the way.”

“No!” Joash said, horrified at the idea. “We must all flee together. We can race to the chariot before Ymir reaches us.”

Sungara stubbornly shook his head, his blunt face set.

“Listen—” Joash tried to say, as he put a hand on Sungara’s gnarled shoulder.

“No!” Sungara said. “The fate of the Earth rests with you, Joash. Sungara will now do his part.” So saying, the giant dwarf of a Huri, with his shoulders, arms and legs that seemed to be fashioned out of twisted oak-roots, jogged along the edge of the mountain to where Ymir climbed.

“What should we do?” Joash asked Herrek.

Herrek bit his lip, as he flexed his sword hand. “Maybe
together
we could slay Ymir.”

Joash snapped his fingers. “I should have thought of it before. I’ll take out the fiery stone and show it to Ymir. That will cause him to lose his balance and fall.”

Just then, a horn pealed. Joash and Herrek peered below. Two more giants ran into view. Both of them wore heavy mail and jangled faintly as they ran.

Joash cupped his hands to shout to Sungara. The squat Huri bent on one knee as he carefully aimed and released his arrow at Ymir. The old one-eyed giant had hurriedly unlimbered his shield from his back. The black arrow struck the center of the shield and harmlessly bounced off. Sungara shot again. As he did, cunning Ymir reached down with his free hand and hurled a rock. Sungara barely ducked it in time.

From farther below, the giant horn pealed once more.

“Tarag’s band is even closer than we thought,” Herrek said in agony. His next words seemed forced, a terrible burden that was almost too much for him. “We must flee, Joash.”

“But Sungara—” Joash said, as he began to untie the knot of his lion-skin sling. It was wound around his waist. He would twirl the sling and help the Huri slow or slay Ymir.

“He’s a warrior!” Herrek shouted. “He’s decided to die like a warrior, and give the Earth its chance.” Sweat fell from Herrek’s brow, and his lower lip trembled. “Let us not belittle his sacrifice by losing the race.”

Joash knew that Herrek was right, and he knew that Herrek desperately wanted to join Sungara. To turn and run was perhaps the hardest choice Herrek had ever made. Joash honored both of them by leaving the sling where it was and turning and running. He also said a silent prayer for the brave Huri who guarded their escape.

They’d gone maybe five hundred feet when Sungara cried out. Joash looked back. A huge spear was stuck through Sungara’s chest. He staggered backward, his face screwed up in pain. Somehow, he managed to notch another arrow to his bowstring. He drew back the string, staggered forward and sighted. Then Sungara the Huri, a primitive of the forests, a blood foe of Elon, a Seraph, fell to his knees and keeled over.

“Run!” Herrek bellowed, grabbing Joash and shoving him.

Joash ran, and he knew that if Ymir came too close, that Herrek would also turn and try to face the giant. He couldn’t stand another person dying for him. He ran with everything he had. He ran, as tears streamed down his face.

Ymir shouted at them. The giant had finally reached the plateau. He drew his bloody spear from Sungara’s body and gave chase. Ymir ran in a long, loping stride, which ate up distance at an incredible rate. His long, white hair fluttered behind his head, as fat droplets of blood dripped from the mighty spearhead.

“Go Harn!” Joash shouted. “Find the chariot.”

Harn didn’t obey, but continued to run beside Joash.

Joash’s side ached and his feet hurt. Herrek also limped, although the warrior still ran quickly. Joash thought of ordering Harn again, but he saw that the dog meant to protect him from the giant.

“Look!” Herrek shouted. “The chariot.”

The chariot surged from behind a clump of boulders several bowshots away. Perhaps, the peals of the giant horn had alerted the charioteer. The stallions broke into a gallop, as the charioteer’s whip cracked.

“Joash!” Ymir roared. “Tarry awhile longer.”

“He’s closing too quickly,” Herrek panted. The look in his eyes said it all.

“No!” Joash shouted. “If you turn to fight, then so will I.”

“Look out,” Herrek cried. He leaped at Joash and dragged him down. A huge spear flashed overhead.

Joash struck his chin hard against the flinty ground. He groaned, and found it difficult to think. Then, he was yanked brutally to his feet. “Run!” Joash heard screamed in his ear. Joash tried to run, but his legs felt rubbery. “Run, Joash. Run for Adah.” Joash clenched his teeth together so hard, they hurt. He
forced
his legs to move.

Suddenly, an eagle screeched. Then, so did another, and another.

“I don’t believe it,” Herrek whispered.

Joash’s head cleared enough, so he looked back. Eagles dove at Ymir, forcing the giant to slow down and unlimber his shield one more time.

“Gens!” Herrek roared.

Gens, his long mustache visible, his long hair flying, flicked the reins, as the Asvarn stallions thundered toward them. Dust rose, and stones flew out from under the chariot wheels. Joash at long last heard the familiar rattling of an Elonite chariot. It was a blessed sound.

Ymir howled with rage.

“Look out!” Herrek roared, putting his body in front of Joash’s body. A rock smashed against Herrek’s back, throwing the warrior onto Joash. Joash staggered, as he helped Herrek along. Another rock whizzed at them, but it missed.

Gens drew the reins and leaped out of the chariot, as it skidded to halt beside them.

The stallions snorted as steam rose off them. Gens dragged Herrek into the battle-cart.

“Anak guide my aim!” Ymir roared. But as he threw, an eagle dove at him and raked his fist. The rock dropped to the earth, as blood spurted from Ymir’s hand. Cursing, the giant bent down to pick the rock up.

Gens turned the chariot and flicked the reins. The sweaty stallions, told by Joash how important this was, galloped with renewed zeal. Soon, for the stallions ran wonderfully, they pulled far enough ahead of the giant, so that Ymir’s thrown rocks merely kicked up dirt behind them.

Sungara’s dreadful sacrifice had not been in vain.

Chapter Fifteen

The Battle at the Pass

Their arrows are sharp, all their bows are strung; their horses’ hoofs seem like flint, their chariot wheels like a whirlwind.

-- Isaiah 5:28

Adah was happy. Joash was in her arms. She kissed him and hugged him tightly.

They were alone in a meadow. Below, several bowshots away, the others camped. For despite everyone’s pleasure at seeing Joash, few could long remain in his presence. He wore a veil and that helped, but not enough. Gens had brought Joash back to her about two hours ago. Herrek had immediately gone with Lord Uriah to the meeting of commanders. Now, the bold charioteer-noble of Elon, the Giant-Slayer, spoke to the others about the giants and about the fiery stone.

After resting a short time, and eating his fill, Joash found that Adah refused to leave him. Not that he tried very hard. He returned her kisses just as strongly as she gave them. They’d interspersed their kisses with their tales. Now, at last, Joash let go of her and lay on a blanket. He smiled hugely, as he stared up at a soaring eagle.

“Is he talking to you?” Adah asked.

Joash shook his head. “He’s too high up for me. He has to come closer before we can communicate.”

“What’s he doing?” she asked.

Joash’s smile slipped a bit. “He’s keeping a lookout for giants and fiends.”

“Oh,” Adah said.

She hadn’t wanted to remind him right away about their plight. She hadn’t wanted to remind herself, either. Joash had told them about the sabertooths. That had been a stroke of fortune. Now, almost all the Gibborim were dead. And it was good to know they wouldn’t have to face monstrous cats again. For all that, however, giants marched toward them. Joash had also learned through the eagles that Rog the Fiend marched toward them. Adah was certain that through the slith, Gibborim had been in contact with the fiend. They had to assume that the two Nephilim groups coordinated their plans. The Elonites, Shurites, League mariners and Snow Leopard Arkites who had joined them, were all brave and hardy warriors. But there were too few of them to stop Tarag’s giants
and
Rog’s forces combined.

It would be all over for them and for the Earth if that happened.

Lord Uriah strode from the camp toward them. The meeting must be over. Decisions had been made. Now, the old Patriarch would give them his commands. It seemed obvious to her what those commands should be. If Lord Uriah and the others couldn’t see such obviousness, then she’d tell them what Joash and she were going to do.

Lord Uriah looked weary. His eyes were red-rimmed. He’d been drinking too much again. She heard his boots stamp on the ground. Joash stirred and sat up. He grunted, as he slowly got to his feet.

He’d taken off his veil. Because she was a Seraph, Adah had been able to look upon his shiny face without wincing. Since another Seraph came, Joash didn’t bother to put the veil back on.

Lord Uriah gave Joash a slow nod. “Have you rested?”

“A bit,” Joash said, with a grin.

Lord Uriah grinned back. “That’s good. If you’re willing then, I’d like to tell you what we suggest.”

Adah was shocked. What they suggest? Then she understood. Not even Lord Uriah was willing to
order
the one who bore the fiery stone. She noticed Joash’s calm stance, his commanding demeanor. Maybe because she loved him, and because he loved her, she hadn’t seen the vast growth of stature in him before this.

“Please tell me your plan,” Joash said.

“Tarag draws near too quickly for us to flee,” Lord Uriah said. “This we’ve learned through you. Rog the Fiend also draws near. So does an army of Arkites. We’re very thankful for your having spotted them. However, time is of the essence. We cannot wait for the Arkites. We must march now to the pass Beron has described. There, we’ll have our best chance of stopping Tarag and Rog too, if he shows up too soon. We must try to kill the giants. Most of all, we must kill the three giants who will stand with Tarag against the guardian Cherub. While we do all this, Joash, you must hurry to Eden.”

“To give the guardian Cherub the fiery stone?” asked Joash.

“Exactly,” said Lord Uriah.

Joash considered the Patriarch’s words. “I agree.”

“We also thought you should hurry to the tunnel that leads to the Forbidden Territory. To make certain you beat everyone to Eden, we will give you a chariot and a driver.”

“It would be best if a Seraph were my driver,” Joash said.

“Of course,” Lord Uriah said. “Would you consent to having Adah?”

“I would take no other,” Joash said, stepping beside Adah and putting his arm around her slender waist.

“Time grows short,” Lord Uriah said. “The army must reach the pass before the giants do. We have an hour to do that, perhaps a little longer. You must leave well before that.”

Joash nodded, although it was clear that he was very tired.

“If you’ll come with me then,” Lord Uriah said, “I’ll bring you to your chariot.”

Adah asked suddenly, “Lord Uriah, how much of a chance do you truly have of defeating the enemy?”

Lord Uriah’s lined features grew even more haggard. A wisp of a grimace was on his face. “These are giants we face, Singer. They are only a
band
of giants and not an army, true enough, but each of their names is legendary.”

“The trolock is also near,” Joash said. “Did Herrek tell you about him?”

“He did,” Lord Uriah said. “If the trolock fights when we do...” He shrugged. “It would help. According to Herrek, the trolock is filled with death-manna and has a burning desire to slay Tarag.”

“Don’t forget the Gorts,” Joash said.

“Who?” Lord Uriah asked.

“The white-haired servitors,” Joash said. “The slaves of the giants.”

“What good are they?” Lord Uriah asked.

“I spoke at length with Gort Six,” Joash said softly. “He watched me during the trek to the Valley of Dry Bones. I believe that he has begun to think that there is another way to live other than as a slave. Don’t be surprised, if there’s a chance, that Gort Six and the others rise up against the giants to help you.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Lord Uriah said, with a shrug.

Adah could tell that the Gorts didn’t impress Lord Uriah. She, however, had lived in a land ruled by a First Born. Sometimes, slaves did arise.

“We will not count on the Gorts,” Lord Uriah said. “We must fight this battle by ourselves, I’m afraid.”

“Nonetheless,” Joash said, “be ready in case the Gorts do help you.”

“As you say,” Lord Uriah said. “Now hurry, please. Time grows short.”

Joash nodded, at last following Lord Uriah.

Adah hurried along, taking hold of Joash’s hand. He smiled and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, wondering what the next few days would bring.

***

Mimir looked up. The sky had darkened, although it was still day, around the middle of the afternoon. In the distance, thunder sounded, even though there was no lightning. Thurus caused that, using his gift.

Sheer granite walls rose before them. Ahead, lay a narrow path, a cleft, it seemed. It was a pass into the Forbidden Territory. In the middle of the pass, waited Lord Uriah’s army of Elonites, Shurites and League mariners. That enemies occupied the pass had come as a rude surprise to Tarag.

The First Born had pulled back to plan. Now, as he grew enraged, it was clear that Tarag meant to try to roll over the humans. Surely, Lord Uriah could not have marched a grand army here. This must be a small force, or so all the Nephilim hoped.

Mimir sat by himself, and tested the edge of his axe-blade with this thumb. A drop of blood welled. He wiped the blood on his pants and took out his whetstone. For a time, he stropped the Bolverk-forged metal, until the edge glittered sharper than a razor.

An eagle screamed overhead.

From his position on the boulder, which he sat on as if it were a stool, Mimir looked up. The eagle soared high above, watching them, spying for the Seraph, and consequently, for the army of humans.

Mimir grimaced. The dreadful Seraph with the stubbornness of Lod...

The eagle cried again, his call piercing in the cool mountain air. Was it mockery?

“I yearn to reach up and pluck the eagle from the sky,” the last remaining Gibborim hissed.

Mimir turned in surprise. Lersi, cloaked and hooded, stood behind him. Her dark eyes were riveted on the circling eagle. The eagles had slain all the slith. Thus, all links with Gog in Shamgar had been severed. Just as worrisome, they no longer had the airborne ability to scout the land ahead. Mimir knew that Rog the Fiend and his band of Nebo marched for the opposite side of the pass as the giants did. Without slith, they wouldn’t be able to coordinate an attack on both ends at the same time. Without slith, they didn’t know what sort of traps Lord Uriah set for them.

“Use your fire spells,” Mimir rumbled.

Lersi shook her head. “I only have a few necromantic skulls left,” she said. “They must be saved for Tarag, for the final battle with the guardian Cherub. I dare not tap them now, not even to use balefire against the eagles.”

Mimir carefully considered his words. He’d been thinking as he sharpened his axe. It had been many days since he’d bathed in the radiance of the fiery stone. When he finally saw the guardian Cherub’s full glory... would he still be able to withstand it?

“How far does Eden lie?” he asked.

“Only Tarag knows,” Lersi replied. “And, I suppose, Rog does too.”

Mimir set aside his axe and placed his hands on his armored knees. “Can we still succeed?” he dared ask.

Lersi remained silent.

“We’ve lost the fiery stone. And I’ve come to fear wily Lord Uriah. I’m sure the Seraph has told him which giants can stand with Tarag against the guardian Cherub. The humans are sure to target myself, Hrungir and Motsognir during the coming battle.”

“Does a giant fear?” Lersi asked.

“None have ever defeated the guardian Cherub,” Mimir said. “But to answer your question. No. It isn’t fear I evidence, but a careful weighing of the odds. We marched in strength, inuring ourselves to divine glory. You and your brethren hoarded a vast supply of necromantic skulls. Now, the fiery stone is gone, craftily turned against us. Our enduring slowly wanes. So does the number of your magic skulls.”

“I thought giants laughed at overwhelming odds.”

Mimir shook his head. “You misjudge our valor. Ours is not the bravery born of ignorance. Rather, we openly consider the odds, weigh them carefully, make our decision, and then we vie for the prize with undiminished vigor. Our valor comes because of our strength, our skill and our unwillingness to take second place.”

“Then I do not understand your reluctance to continue to Eden.”

“Giants are heroic,” he said, “not suicidal. Only a fool bares his head like a goat and charges against a brick wall.”

“Do you liken the guardian Cherub to this wall?”

“I begin to wonder...”

“I see,” Lersi said. “Then this isn’t a test of my courage?”

“No. I’m speaking plainly, as one ally to another. The prize is immortality. Failure is death, maybe worse. To reach the Tree of Life will take the perfect execution of Tarag’s plan. That plan has now been marred.”

“Irreconcilably?” Lersi asked.

“Not if we can regain the fiery stone and re-supply the number of your necromantic skulls. I ask you to guard yourself well during the coming fight, Lersi. For if you, or Ygg, are unable to strengthen Tarag for the final battle, then I’m afraid our challenge will be a forlorn symbol of hubris.”

“Or raw arrogance,” she said.

“Tarag is determined,” Mimir agreed. “Nothing will turn him from his chosen goal. He seethes with an inner fire and has become convinced of his right to godhood. Let us, therefore, insure for ourselves a seat to the coming millennium and a place in the hierarchy of heaven.”

“How?”

“By remaining fit. By making sure that we come through this battle undiminished.”

Mimir watched Lersi wander back to her tent. He began to wonder what Joash the Seraph did now, and where he was. The damned manling, he’d come close to destroying everything. But the game was not yet up. There was still a chance for immortality. However, he
was
called Mimir the Wise for a reason. It would not be wise to die for a failed cause. If the moment came when immortality was beyond his grasp—Mimir grimaced. To stop, to pull back from the final conflict out of cowardice and forever lose the prize, would be the worst decision of all. He must use all his guile, all his power of judgment, in order to discover the best course. Either dare all for immortality, or cut his losses before life itself was lost.

He stood. Wily Lord Uriah blocked the way to Eden and to godhood. Who knew how many humans waited in the pass? Mimir thought in silence, weighing odds. At last, he nodded. Godhood demanded risks, grave risks. He gripped his axe’s haft of hardwood and let his anger at Lord Uriah turn into rage. He would be a special target today. Of this, he was certain. So be it. Since he’d decided to fight, he’d fight with utter abandon. Too many people in the past had played it safe during battle and lost everything. To win a fight, one had to expend everything.