Lod the Galley Slave (Lost Civilizations) (22 page)

Lod reached in so his shoulder thrust against vines bleeding white sap. He felt something hard back there and banged it with his hilt. It thumped, sounding wooden.

“What is that?” Lod asked.

Zared laughed shrilly. “It should be a barge, my friend, the one Zillah and Lamech used long ago.”

Lod withdrew his arm and gave Zared a dubious glance. “That was centuries ago. Bore worms and rot will have destroyed any wood
from that time.”

“Reach in and thump it again,” Zared said.

Lod did.

“Does that sound like rotted timber to you?”

Lod admitted it didn’t.

Zared clapped his hands. “
I believe a mystical property, or perhaps a spell, preserves the ancient barge. Such I’ve heard is the case, and now I believe it.”

“You plan on trusting an ancient wreck to get us across the
steaming waters?” Lod asked.

“Not just any wreck,” Zared said. “Look at the size of the vine mound.”

“I see it.”

“Keep sawing, Lod. I’ll
go stir the men.”

-4-

The days merged into timeless effort. Zared built a fire and cast sulfurous powder upon the flames. A vile-smelling cloud billowed. As long as it burned, the rank odor woke the Holon from their stupor. They toiled with copper knives and hatchets. Lod continued to saw with his knife.

As they began to expose the ancient
barge, Lod marveled. Its elephantine size, ornate rails and the soundness of its wood amazed him. In many places, the vine sap had over the centuries dripped onto the ancient planks and soaked as deeply as an inch. This Lod discovered with his dagger, by prying into wood. The sap had hardened the timbers and probably aided its resistance to the elements. Long ago, it appeared, artists had stained bizarre designs onto the outer hull. The sap had obliterated most of those, although above the ancient waterline some mythic beast yet showed a toothy grin. Unfortunately, cordage, ropes and what might have been a sail lay in useless heaps of rotted fibers.

Similar to
the galleys of Poseidonis, the hold held benches for rowers. Enough sound oars appeared to remain, given the number of Holon. All this Lod informed Zared after his single inspection of the hold. He refused to climb down the hatch a second time.

“But you’re our rowing expert—” Zared
said.

Lod shook his head, and madness gleamed in his eyes. His fingers convulsed. The desire to throttle whip-masters who had beaten him for twenty tormenting years—his eyes narrowed as he studied Zared.

“Lod!” Zared snapped his fingers.

Lod rubbed his eyes, frown
ing. What was wrong with him?

“You will remain above,” Zared said, “on deck.”

Soon, the Holon dug a trench from the barge toward the hot waters.

From the edge of the jungle, Lod hacked moist ferns and broad leaves and carted them by the armful. He laid them in the trench and hoped thereby to oil the keel and assist the vessel when they attempted to haul it to the water.

On his eighth trek, the center of his back prickled. Lod had felt this before, together with a sense of dread that sight of the archaeopteryx brought. He chopped a fern and pretended to lose his grip. The knife tumbled from his hand. He made a loud oath and bent to retrieve it, and secretly slipped a stone out of his pouch. Lod whirled around, spied a leaf that moved oddly and heaved the stone.

A half-second before the stone obliterated the leaf, the archaeopteryx shrieked and exploded into flight from behind it. Lod heaved another stone. The archaeopteryx ducked in flight, shrieked again, and blurred its wings as it bent its head and furiously gained height. Lod heaved a third time, but the stone failed to reach that high and dropped back into the jungle.

From its safe height, the archaeopteryx circled and watched with interest.

Lod retrieved his knife and glanced at the demon-fowl. His loathing intensified with a feeling of fear. The bird seemed ancient beyond reckoning, and that made no sense. It seemed hopelessly malignant and filled with evil guile. Lod stared too long perhaps. His neck tingled, and he snapped his head around.

Grass rustled to his left. It seemed a sound of stealth.

Lod backed away. Had the archaeopteryx
cast an inhibiting spell upon him? The grass rustled more. Lod turned and sprinted, and barely in time. A monstrous python reared up and struck with a thud of noise. Its wedge-shaped head was as big as an ox’s. Even though it missed, the giant snake slithered after Lod. The archaeopteryx swooped lower then, shrieking in what seemed like rage.

Lod roared a warning as he sprinted for the
barge. The python moved dreadfully fast, crushing tall stalks in its slithering. The beast had to be twenty, thirty feet long or more.

Fortunately, Zared was alert and shouted a command. The
Holon dropped their wooden shovels, picked up weapons and ran to help.

Lod glanced over his shoulder. The python reared up a second time to twice the height of man, and it swiveled its
triangular head. A black forked tongue flicked. Perhaps it didn’t like the odds, for the serpent hissed at Lod and retreated.

The archaeopteryx gave a furious shriek, circled twice
more and then veered for the island.

Lod watched
the bird as sweat trickled down his face. Something about it seemed vaguely familiar. He wished he could put his finger on it.

***

“Do you think the archaeopteryx went to the island’s ruins?” Lod asked Zared that night.

The old man reclined in his litter and sipped date
wine. Several fires burned around the barge while Holon prowled between the flames with knives and ready spears.

“We must be alert tomorrow,” Zared said.

Lod thought that an odd answer. “What about a sail?” he asked.

“We have men and oars.”

Lod laughed harshly. “The Holon move sluggishly on land. I don’t see why they’ll do any better on the steaming sea. What I don’t understand is how you’re able to resist this dulling the rest of us feel. Unless your rings are magic talismans—”

“I abhor magic!” Zared declared. “No. I am schooled in old lore and have trained more than many men’s lifetimes for this day. A sail would be ideal…but the archaeopteryx shows us that ancient evils stir against us.”

“Yes!” Lod said. “Ancient evils—the bird feels like a Nephilim. No, that’s not right. I hate it with a similar gut reaction that I normally only feel for Nephilim or First Born.” Lod scowled. “I don’t understand how evil can live in such close proximity to Yggdrasil.”

“That is a foolish thought,” Zared said. “
Do you not realize that the great rebellion began in Elohim’s very own throne room? I refer to Lucifer, of course. Evil can live in very close proximity to good. There is nothing strange about that at all.”

Lod shrugged moodily. Tomorrow they sailed—rowed for the isle. He yawned and stretched out on a cloak. Why had the archaeopteryx flown
to the island? What did the vile creature plan next?

***

In the morning, the barge plowed through the steaming sea, propelled by the uneven strokes of the Holon. The watery heat put sweat on Lod’s brow. If the ancient vessel should sink…

He tried not to think
about that. At least the wood held. The sea didn’t burn it. Maybe sap from the vines preserved it.

Lod wrinkled his nose.
A vile stench rose from the hold, from the sulfurous powder burning in a flattish brazier. As long it sizzled, the primitives shook off the dulling influences. Zared still had several bags of powder, so they shouldn’t run out. Lod wondered if the powder came from the coals devoured in Zared’s personal firepot.

In any case,
Lod stood at the tiller, enduring the steaming vapors coming off the waters. His muscled arms heaved the thick blade one way and another. The barge did not ride the waves as his plank had, but smashed through them. The heavy thuds against the timbers, the way the vessel groaned and creaked, worried Lod. He had climbed down the hatch once and lifted the cover to the bilge below. Too much water sloshed over the sandy ballast. The barge leaked badly. They should have smeared pitch or tar between the planks, but they’d owned neither substance. So now, Lod tried to ease the vessel through the waves to make the best time they could.

Zared pointed starboard. “I see the archaeopteryx. It paces us.”

Lod eyed the bird. It was hardly more than a speck in the sky. Old Zared still had excellent eyesight, it seemed, although his balance could be better. Speaking of which, Lod saw Zared stagger as the barge surged upward and then fell downward with timbers groaning.

“Hang onto something,” Lod shouted.
“It would be a pity for you to fall overboard and scald yourself.”

Zared
gave him an unreadable glance before grapping a stanchion. Afterward, the old man intently watched the island and then the waters around them.

“Is something wrong?” Lod asked.

“I don’t trust the bird. It’s here for a malicious reason.”

Neither spoke after that. The jungle odors dwindled with each stroke
toward the isle. The murky depths turned a progressively deeper green, while a salty brine smell battled the hold’s sulfurous stench.

Zared went below, added more powder and returned with glowing embers in
his black firepot with the ivory handle. He ran bony fingers through his patriarchal beard. He frowned, and then he craned his neck, studying the sea in all directions.

“Are you expecting trouble from the sea?” Lod asked.

“In truth, I expect trouble everywhere. This place…”

Lod pushed his bulk against the steering oar. Sluggishly, the barge hove toward the island. He could smell the approaching foliage, the damp greenery that burst in profusion upon the isle. He thought about the carrack from Larak and their approach to the Isle of Poseidonis. Kraken had risen from the depths
then. What would rise up here?

Oars clunked as the Holon propelled them toward the mystic isle. Lod spied
an area of bubbling, and steam rose hotter there. He thought to see glowing lava chunks in the water. The boiling sea was living up to its reputation.

With a heave, he pushed the steering oar
again, taking them around the bubbling area. The isle drew closer yet.

“There,” Zared said. “Do you see?” He pointed at the island, at a gray portion
along shore.

Lod shaded his eyes from the sun. “It looks like stone.”

“Yes.”

“An ancient dock maybe,” Lod said.

“Exactly,” Zared said.

Lod glanced sidelong at the old
man. “Have you been here before perhaps?”

Zared appeared not to hear the question.

“I asked—”

“I heard you,” Zared said. “Yes. I have been here before…long
, long ago.”

Something about the way the ancient
one said that made Lod ask, “How long ago? Who are you really? How do you know so much? I think it’s time you told me exactly.”

Zared regarded him, and it seemed for a moment as if the old man would strike with his
firepot of coals. Finally, the ancient grinned. “Do you not yet realize, Lod? I am very, very old.”

“Yes?” Lod rumbled.

“I am Zared, son of Jared, son of Mahalalel, son of Kenan.”

Lod shook his head, not understanding.

“Kenan was the son of Enosh. Enosh was the son of Seth. Seth’s father was—”

“Adam,” Lod whispered.

“My great-great-great-great-grandfather was the first man. Like them, I have lived now into my nine hundreds. Different from other men, the patriarchal line was gifted with long life. And it is true we often beget children late in life. I lived before the coming of the
bene elohim
, and I saw their fall. These rings are from that time, and they contain a certain influence. Lod, I have watched humanity throughout the centuries. Men used to understand that Elohim delivered them from the hands of demonic gods. Now the First Born and Nephilim bedevil humanity as once their fathers did. Men today are not like those of old.”

“Did you live during the time of Lamech?”

“He was of my generation,” Zared said. “The youth he slew was my brother.” A troubled look came over the old one’s face. “I fought the sons of Lamech, and I held Naamah for a time in my stronghold.”

“What?”

“That was long ago,” Zared said. “Now…now I have finally come to the island to tear down Yggdrasil.”

Lod pointed at the huge volcano. “Why bother? That mountain will spew lava soon enough. That should destroy the sapling from the Tree of Knowledge.”

Zared made a harsh sound.

“What aren’t you saying?” Lod asked.

“Can you not read the signs? The volcano should have blown ages ago. Sorcery holds its fury at bay. No, Lod, we have much to do on this island.”