22 A Once Prince & A Once King

TWO MORE DAYS of trekking brought them closer to the mountains. Volar hadn’t spoken much since, though he seemed to be kinder to Asher, or perhaps it was just the Atlantian’s perception of the giant which had changed.

Volar was a warrior and far larger than Asher for one thing, and his rough treatment took on a whole other perspective. Volar simply wasn’t used to dealing with humans. Being second to Anak, he’d have been high-ranking, and no doubt had little to do with slaves or human traders.

Asher, of course, felt the need to fill the silence and chatted about Atlantis and all its wonders. Volar nodded here and there at parts he recognised, for the former island had been well known among Nephilim, even those who’d never visited it.

They eventually reached the foothills and began a long weary climb. Asher was stronger for all the meat and water he’d been getting, but the trek was still tiring.

They had been following a path, which had materialised at some point, and Asher had been nattering away about his mother and father. Volar halted and the Atlantian bumped into him and fell on his ass. He’d been looking off to the left and north towards the distant blue shimmer of the ocean, thinking of home.

Volar didn’t react, or move to help him. Then Asher noticed the tension in the giant’s stance, and picking himself up, began glancing around nervously. ‘What is it?’

The giant held up a hand in a gesture for silence.

There was a light wind blowing through the mountains, and a few clouds scudding overhead although there seemed little chance of rain.

The Anakim reached down to his waist and drew from a sheath a long vicious looking dagger, all teeth and very sharp. Nephilim steel, no doubt, their weapons the envy of the world. It seemed to be, apart from the Crystal Sword, the only weapon Volar had. Whatever other blades he’d possessed, he must have lost them.

Several rocks skittered down to their right leaving a trail of dust caught by the wind. Then something launched from the peaks above, hurtling toward Volar. The giant shoved Asher aside, roaring as he raised his dagger to meet it.

For his part, Asher found himself skidding back down the mountain for perhaps fifteen feet or more before he came to a halt. Volar had shoved him so hard he’d lost his footing and had gone into a slide. Lucky for him.

The creature battling Volar was a winged Rephaim, or at least it used to be. It’s once magnificent wings of hide had taken on a ragged sickly appearance, full of rips and tears. The giant itself had a venomous look about it as it grappled with Volar who just about managed to hold it off. Its face was full of horns and its eyes were gaping pits. When it snarled it showed lots of razor-sharp pointed teeth. Its hands were now claws, and they ripped into the Anakim who stabbed it in return, repeatedly.

Asher saw the dagger enter the Rephaim once, twice, three times, but it seemed to have no effect.

Then another of the twisted giants appeared, this one an Avim, double-jointed and moving unnaturally even for one of their kind. As Volar managed to disentangle himself from the first assailant, the Avim launched itself, slamming into Volar and hurling him aside. Then it turned its head around with a sickening twist as it noticed Asher Tone.

‡

Both revenants advanced on Asher, who began to scramble backwards. He’d never been a warrior, Atlantis having had little need for such, and although he was no coward, he knew he couldn’t face down these things with anything like a chance in Grim’s own hell.

He fumbled at the pouch on his belt, seeking for his Ameliorate. One of the things he’d managed to make it do was shrink in size, handy when he wanted to carry it anywhere unnoticed. Not so handy with two murderous, eyeless, giants bearing down on him, however.

His hand had just closed on it in his pocket, and he was wondering if there was anything he could make it do that might save him, when a third Nephilim made its appearance.

This one leapt from the rocks to his left, landing in a cloud of dust and stones, placing itself between him and the revenants. At first, he just took it for another revenant, but then the head glanced around and the giant smiled at him. A Rephaim, one of the largest he’d ever seen in the flesh, maybe twelve and a half feet tall. And this one had eyes in its head like Volar.

The new arrival held a scarap blade in its right hand, and a shorter form of the weapon in its left, something akin to a misshapen dagger. His wings were massive and to Asher’s surprise covered in white feathers.

The revenants attacked.

The huge white-winged Nephilim met their charge, wings snapping wide, and a thunderous clash ensued. His blades stabbed and blocked with speed, wings scything like weapons themselves. Asher felt his jaw drop open in awe.

The revenants, though not as fast or strong, did not fall easily. Asher spotted Volar getting back to his feet, shaking his head, and wobbling a little. When he noticed the battle, he came running at a shocking speed, head bent like a charging grolg, and rammed into one of the revenants, tossing it to the side.

Now with one each, the battle was even, and the enemy outmatched. A sweeping stroke of the larger scarap decapitated one of the revenants. Volar had managed to restrain the other, but let it go at the last second as another sweep also took its head.

Eerily, the bodies kept moving, but a few dozen more chops of the scarap ended that.

Asher stayed put, warily watching the two living giants. He’d come to know Volar, enough to trust he was no threat, but the other was far larger and deadlier. Best to stay put and wait for them to calm down.

There was an exchange between them, in their own tongue of course, which Asher didn’t speak. One of his many failings, although there were once many Atlantians who had spoken it.

Then Volar gestured at Asher. The massive Nephilim turned to regard him. ‘You are far from home,’ he said in Icarthian. When Asher didn’t reply, he glanced at Volar who shrugged before looking back. ‘I am learning the imperial tongue from a human female. My wife to be exact. I have never learned Atlantian. Do you not understand me?’

‘Oh,’ said Asher, feeling like an idiot. ‘I’m a bit shaken after what just happened.’ His wife, a human woman? Was that a joke? He felt off-balance, confused. Asher had always been a planner, and a quick thinker, but not these days.

Volar stepped forwards, and gestured at the other giant, also speaking in Icarthian, though it was less polished than his High Atlantian. ‘You should add, “your highness,” when you speak to him.’

Asher gaped, wondering if this was another joke. He didn’t have much experience with the Nephilim sense of humour. In fact, until recently, he didn’t think they had any.

The other lifted a massive hand giving a dismissive wave. ‘No, don’t bother. My title is dangerous these days. Just call me, Desool.’

Asher nodded, not knowing what to say. The king of the Nephilim had saved his life. Then he remembered. ‘Uh, it was you we travelled to find,’ he managed. Once a prince of Atlantis, the son of a king, and yet here he was, awestruck. He needed to gather his wits. ‘I came with several viral mages from Icarthya.’

Desool’s brow furrowed. ‘Was Threadfin Todder one of them?’

Asher nodded. ‘He said that the Shathra Stone was in danger, and that he needed to get to it before the sorceress did.’ He’d also said he was going to kill the sorceress, but he left that bit out for now.

Desool stared down at the blades in his hands, and then wiping them clean on his hide breeches, sheathed them. His massive white feathered wings folded up. ‘It may be that he is too late. Where is he?’

Asher hated being the bearer of bad news, especially when it might mean the end of everything. What worse news could there possibly be? ‘Our ship was attacked. I ended up in the water.’ He decided to leave out Oracle’s possible treachery. He still wasn’t sure what had happened there. ‘Before that, he fought a battle.’ He left the rest unsaid.

‘Actually, I already know about the Lamia and your companions.’

‘He also had this with him,’ said Volar, handing the Crystal Sword to the king. ‘If it is what I believe, then we still have a chance.’

Desool’s grimace turned into a grin. ‘You know, I think you’re right.’ He then spoke rapidly in the Raddhon tongue, and Volar turned and took off without even a goodbye.

The king turned to Asher. ‘You and I shall make our way to a place in the mountains. I have some friends of yours you might be pleased to see.’

‡

Two hours of trekking into the mountains and they reached the Nephilim camp. On a wide plateau, overlooking a steep valley, the sides of which Asher’s tortured legs had managed to climb, were three dozen Nephilim. All of them looked fearsome, but Asher was quick to notice a certain look in their eyes. Fear, worry, apprehension.

There was movement further in under a broad overhang of rock. Asher laughed, never thinking he might be so pleased to see the undead. Droop, Lip and Forge came out to greet him.

‘Where’s Oracle?’ demanded Droop with a dark frown.

‘Thought she might be with you,’ Asher lied, but he didn’t miss that look on Droop’s face. The viral wasn’t happy.

‘Did you see anything of Threadfin?’ Forge asked.

They all stood there silent for a long moment, realising the implications, until Asher said, ‘We still have the Crystal Sword.’

‘Well,’ Droop muttered, ‘Todder’s a survivor at least. If I know anything about him it’s that much, and Oracle might have made it. We continue with the plan.’

‘And what plan was that exactly?’ demanded Lip. ‘We haven’t got the Shathra Stone, and even if we had, none of us could use it. None of us can use that Sword either. Admit it, without Todder and Oracle, we’re lost. Might as well head home.’

Desool must have overheard as lumbered towards them. Lip cringed a little, and Droop stared up at him, mouth hanging open. None of these virals were used to Nephilim as big as this, and the feathered wings only made it worse.

‘The Stone is with the Keeper,’ said the king, ‘and so we must find her first.’

‘Her? Isn’t your uncle the Keeper of the Stone?’ said Asher.

‘No, my wife is.’

‘Oh, right.’

Desool made a face, though Asher couldn’t tell if it was irritation, anger, or something else. ‘There is no one I trust more. She has it and we need to find her. I sent her after Threadfin Todder. I knew he would arrive. When I heard nothing from either of them, I came myself with those warriors left to me.’

Asher gaped at the small group of Nephilim. ‘You mean this is all you have left?’

The king of the Nephilim looked grave. ‘There may be others, but if there are, they’re on their own. Raddhon has been invaded and my kingdom overthrown.’ He laid a huge hand on Asher’s shoulder, an appendage which could have crushed him easily. ‘I am like you now, once prince of Atlantis, for I am once king of the Nephilim. I think it’s fitting we see out the rest of this together. Come what may.’

‘Come what may,’ whispered Asher in reply.