Godborn, page 52
part #1 of Gods of Bronze Series
It was only a matter of time before he was killed.
His vision blurred as he fought for breath through his exhaustion. It had been madness to face a yotunan in combat, he knew that now. Especially one with a skin of bronze. Even if he struck him with his club, he could not do him harm. It was hopeless. The only vulnerable part of him was his throat and he could not get close enough to land a blow there. He wished he had brought a noose instead of a club.
The spear sliced across his belly and Herkuhlos fell backward and found himself staring up at the bright blue sky.
His hatred for Leuhon filled him completely as he thought of his impending death at his hands. The yotunan would slaughter his companions and his sister would forever be a slave to a monster. Leuhon would soon have wiped out his entire clan and the demon would go on, ageless, as the lord of Nemiyeh and many other lands.
The rage at the injustice drove him to his feet just as Leuhon thrust the spear for the killing blow.
Roaring, Herkuhlos smashed it aside with his club, breaking the spear shaft with a mighty crack. He swung the club into Leuhon’s head, crashing it against the lion’s pelt and the bronze helm beneath so hard that Leuhon dropped to one knee.
The stunned yotunan blindly grabbed at Herkuhlos but he smashed the bronze club once more onto the lion pelt and sending the giant down onto his hands and knees. Herkuhlos hit him on the back through the lionskin but it seemed to have no effect as Leuhon began to get up.
In desperation, Herkuhlos dropped his club, threw himself onto the giant and wrapped one arm around his neck. The lion’s mane was in his face and he could hardly breathe but he grabbed his own bloody wrist and squeezed with every ounce of strength left in him, throttling his enemy.
Leuhon reached back to grab at him but Herkuhlos buried his face into the lion pelt back and squeezed harder. Grasping Herkuhlos’ forearm with both hands, Leuhon heaved down and loosened Herkuhlos’ grip, giving him a moment to take a breath.
Herkuhlos redoubled his efforts and pulled his arm back across his throat but Leuhon got to his feet and stood with his legs planted, pulling against the arm around his neck. Leuhon’s head was bent back, his spine arched, but his massive fingers fought to prise the grip off his neck and he was almost succeeding.
Now with his feet off the floor, Herkuhlos knew he could not resist the yotunan’s efforts much longer. He could hardly breathe through the stinking lion pelt. Already, he had gone beyond his endurance. His heart raced and he could not get enough air. His strength was leaving him.
It would all be for nothing if he failed now.
Before his grip failed for the last time, he braced his dangling legs against the giant’s back and heaved with everything he had. All his hatred, all his rage, all his desire to live, all his yearning for glory he put into it, leaving nothing inside himself.
There was a mighty crack.
Leuhon went limp and fell backwards, toppling like some ancient forest oak and crashing to the earth on top of Herkuhlos.
For a moment, he could not get a breath but then he forced the great weight off him and scrambled out from under the motionless yotunan. Sweat ran down his face and stung his eyes but he saw through blurred vision that the monster was still breathing. In terror he lurched across the ground looking for his weapon. Instead he found the head of Leuhon’s broken spear and grabbed it, turning back on shaking legs to defend himself.
Leuhon lay on his back, breathing heavily, with his eyes open and flicking left and right. But he lay still with his arms out to either side.
Herkuhlos limped over to him and looked down. The demon’s neck was covered in bruises and the whites of his eyes were filled with blood.
“For,” Herkuhlos said, between breaths, “Alkmene.”
Leuhon opened and closed his mouth but no sound emerged other than a gasp as Herkuhlos pushed the spear into his throat. The skin there resisted for a moment and then parted as the blade slid through all the way to his spine. When he pulled the blade free, Leuhon’s blood welled up and flowed down onto the earth, soaking into it. His eyes fluttered closed, a faint look of confusion on his hideous face.
Fighting for breath, Herkuhlos looked up through blurred vision at the hundreds of silent faces all around him.
The warriors stared between their fallen god and the god killer. They could kill him with ease, he knew. As exhausted and wounded as he was even one of them alone could do it. He waited, not knowing how to stop them. It was in the gods’ hands now.
Makros broke the silence, stepping forward into it and lifting his spear high over his head. “Lay down your spears for godborn Herkuhlos!” he roared. At that, he tossed down his own weapon and knelt, bowing his head.
All around him, the warriors stared at Herkuhlos. The wind swirled the dust of the earth. High above, crows cawed as they circled in the warm air rising over the hill.
A hundred spears and axes crashed to the ground.
And they knelt.
37. Return
Herkuhlos watched through blurred vision as Makros and Belolukos shouted and waved their arms at the warriors, commanding them to stay.
“The godborn will not slay you,” Makros cried. “He seeks no vengeance. You need not flee.”
He noted then how some of the warriors were slipping away but others stayed, looking at one another, at Makros, at him.
Belolukos clutched his gut with one hand but with the other he shouted that they had submitted and so would not be harmed. Herkuhlos almost laughed aloud at the notion that he was even capable of harming anyone right now but then that was no doubt why they were saying it in the first place. It was in the hope that they would not realise they could still overwhelm him with their numbers.
Then again, they had kneeled. Perhaps their will was broken.
Then Helhena rushed toward Herkuhlos, her bloodied face filled with concern, and grasped his arm. “Come here.”
She pulled him toward the temple building. After taking a few steps he felt himself stumbling but then Dehnu was there to hold him up and she half carried him into the shade of the temple.
“Sit here,” Dehnu said, easing him onto the edge of the stone of sacrifice. She raised her voice and spoke commandingly to someone. “Bring water.”
“Will he die?” Laonome asked. She was with them and Herkuhlos wanted to tell her that he was well but all he could do was groan.
Dehnu smiled. “Of course he will not die.”
“You can save him?” Helhena asked, her voice high.
The Seeress was unconcerned. “His spirit is strong and so is his body. He will save himself.”
Laonome shook her head. “He has saved all of us.”
Soon, Dehnu raised a cup to his lips and he gulped down cool water. It was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted and at once his vision cleared. Laonome, Dehnu, and Helhena stood before him, concern on their faces.
He smiled. “You are all alive.” He frowned. “Or am I dead?”
Dehnu laughed. “We live. Nemiyeh is yours.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And I think that these warriors are yours. Now, lie down for a moment.”
He looked down at the great stone under his backside. His blood flowed across it and collected in the shallow depression in the centre. “I do not need to lie down. I need to command these men. There is still danger here.”
Gesturing at the crowds with a sweep of his hand, he saw Makros pointing at a group of men on one side of the square and Belolukos ordering more on the other side, waving his spear as if herding sheep. Kounos directed a handful of others to gather up the weapons lying on the floor. Young Pehur, somehow still alive, was at his side.
“You are in command,” Dehnu said. “And your men are doing your bidding. Victory is yours. You may rest now.”
Herkuhlos nodded slowly, his eyes drifting to the great body of Leuhon. “I will rest,” he said. “Just for a moment.”
Even so, he found he did not have the strength to lay down and when Dehnu moved to help him he waved her away.
“You will heal faster if you allow me to tend to you properly,” she said.
“I am well as I am,” he said, softly. He breathed deeply, feeling the wounds on his skin stretching and pulling as he did so. But those wounds would heal. They always did.
Laonome touched the back of his bloody hand with her fingertips. “I will find some of the women to bring you food. And mead.” She smiled. “I know you would like some mead, brother.”
He grasped her wrist as she turned to go. “Do not leave.” He wished to say more but the words stuck in his throat and he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him back for a long moment before he pushed her gently away so that he could see her again. Her face was wet with tears and her dress was now completely covered with blood. “I have ruined your dress,” he said.
She laughed and threw her arms around him again, making him wince.
“You there,” Dehnu said to the woman who had brought the water. “We must have food and water brought here. And mead.”
“Yes, mistress,” the woman said, bowing her head. “Only, it’s shut away. We are not allowed into the stores without...” The woman glanced at the bodies of Leuhon and Kreuhesh.
Dehnu frowned. “Your lord sits before you. All that is here is now his.”
The servant bowed again. “What if the guards are still there?”
Dehnu turned to Helhena. “I find myself unused to such obstinacy and incompetence. What is there to be done?”
Helhena turned and called out to Makros, waving him over. He frowned and jabbed his finger at the subdued warriors before approaching. His frown turned to a smile and then a broad grin as he approached. “You didn’t die, then,” he said to Herkuhlos.
“Neither did you,” Herkuhlos replied.
Makros shrugged. “The day’s not over yet.”
“You have subdued a hundred men with your finger, Makros,” Herkuhlos said. He found the strength then to sit up again and waved away the objections. “I think all will be well.”
“It is you that subdued them.” Makros glanced at Leuhon and shook his head in wonder. “But I told them that all who stayed would not be slain. It was spoken rashly, without consulting with you, I know but I had to take charge quickly. And now it has been spoken and I will not go back on my word.”
“You have no need to.”
“Some are fleeing, though.”
“Let them go,” Herkuhlos asked. “Let them all go.”
“If we don’t stop them going we’ll have raiders all around us for moons. Until we hunt them down and kill them, anyway.”
Herkuhlos frowned. “Most of them will go home. Any who wish to go can go.”
Makros shrugged. “Lot of people here. Women, too. Children. Might be a good idea to make many of the men stay. I reckon bring the harvest in, see out winter here, and them that wants to go in spring can go.”
“Women and children,” Herkuhlos said, nodding slowly to himself. “Have them brought forward into the square. I will speak to them.”
Dehnu shook her head. “You need rest.”
He waved that away, wincing at the motion. “They will be frightened. Terrified about what will become of them. I would put their minds at ease. Have them brought out. And Makros send some good men with this woman here to open the stores and then they must be guarded properly before some of these fleeing warriors start raiding it.”
Makros scowled. “Why did I not think of that? It will be done, lord.”
Lord, he calls me. This is what glory brings.
He had to admit that he liked it.
While he ate and drank, his wounds healed a little and the women washed the blood from his body, the people of the briya filed slowly into the square. They shuffled in with their heads bowed, glancing up the hill to the temple.
“They are so many,” Dehnu said, holding a hand over her heart. “They are so afraid.”
“It is all we have known,” Laonome said. “Fear and death. Much of it at the hands of these warriors you now command. Although many of the worst you have already killed.”
“We will rule them,” Herkuhlos said, though it felt wrong to say it. “They will be ruled. Any man who harms one of his own people will be slain or exiled. We will rule these men and they will protect the people, not harm them.”
“But they are not one people,” Helhena said. “There are people of the forest and of the plain. You can see it on their faces, in their stature, the way they wear their hair. I can see half a dozen from clans I recognise and a hundred more I do not. People from river lands. Folk from the shores of the sea in the south.”
Herkuhlos nodded, watching Belolukos and Kounos and Makros commanding the crowds. “Everything you say is true but my leaders here will lead and the warriors will follow them.”
“What do you mean, your leaders?” Helhena said, looking back and forth at the assembling people. Men and women and children of the Heryos and Kalekka filing into the square and filling the side streets. “You would have Makros and—”
She broke off, frowning and then clapped a hand over her mouth and groaned.
Herkuhlos sensed that something terrible had happened and his heart sank as he searched the masses of faces for the cause of the danger.
Without warning, Helhena broke into a run and called out. “Haedha! Weita!”
Two young girls ran from the crowd and Helhena dropped to her knees and threw her arms around them, pulling them into her. They buried their heads into her as Helhena sobbed, her body wracked with each shuddering breath.
Dehnu turned to Herkuhlos, a question in her glistening eyes.
“Her sisters,” Herkuhlos said, smiling.
Dehnu nodded, sighing. “I would have liked sisters,” she said, almost to herself.
“Perhaps one day you will have daughters,” Herkuhlos said. “Help me up.” He groaned as he stood. Never in his life had he ached as much. “Bring Bel, Kounos, and Makros to me, Dehnu.”
She nodded and walked down the slope, calling out to Makros. The eyes of the watching crowd followed her graceful form.
Herkuhlos limped forward until he stood outside the entrance of the temple, looking down at the crowds below and around him. With a start he realised it was just where Leuhon had stood to address them and glanced at the body still lying in the dirt. A hush descended on the crowd as he regarded them. His brother, Makros and Kounos came up and stood to one side.
“No, come and stand beside me,” Herkuhlos said to them. They did as he commanded and he nodded once and turned to address the crowd. “I am Herkuhlos. The yotunan Leuhon is dead. And I, Herkuhlos, have slain him.”
He watched them closely as he spoke, weighing their reactions. Eyes glanced at the body and back to him. His heart raced but he felt right and he felt true, and as the words came from his mouth it was as though the gods and the ancestors were guiding him just as they had in battle.
“Now, I shall be your lord. For a time.” His men glanced at him. “All of us here are from many clans. Some of you are from the forests in the north. Others are from the plains to the east. Some are Kalekka or Heryos from this land. Those of you who wish to stay in Nemiyeh may do so. Your lord here will be Makros.”
He placed a hand on the astonished warrior’s shoulder. Makros stared at him with his eyes wide.
“Makros is now the chief of Nemiyeh and all who serve him faithfully will find good fortune.” He let go of Makros and reached for Kounos. “This man is Kounos. There is a mighty briya to the south of here called Pelhbriya famed for its high walls and its bronze that lies all but empty. Those of you who were taken from there shall return. But it is a large place with many houses and vast fields that need planting and soon. It requires new men and women. Those that live there will have land to work. They will do so under their chief who is Kounos. Those who follow him will find good fortune.”
He turned to Belolukos. “This young chief is the famed warrior Belolukos. Some of you saw him slay Kreuhesh the Bloodletter. Belolukos is the bravest man I know. And he is my brother. I would have died a hundred times were it not for the strength of his spear. His spirit longs always for the plain and I know there will be many of you who feel the same. Those of you who do not wish to stay in these lands may cross the river and return but you will do so together, as one clan. And Belolukos will be your chief as he leads you back to the east.” Bel’s head jerked as he glanced at him, his eyes filled with emotion. Herkuhlos smiled. “The wisest amongst you will swear yourselves to him for the rest of your lives. All who serve Belolukos will find great fortune.”
“What about you?” a voice called from the crowd. An old warrior stepped forward. “We would serve you, lord. You have won glory in sight of us all and we would serve the slayer of Leuhon.”
Many heads nodded.
“You could do no better than these three men beside me. If you heed nothing else then heed that and swear your oaths to one of them.” He held up a hand. “But I have another task. A task no mortal may help me in. I swore an oath to Kolnos himself to slay the twelve yotunan that escaped from Tartaros.” He pointed to Leuhon. “There lies one. Eleven more remain that must be slain.” Herkuhlos smiled. “And that is what I shall do.”
38. Godborn
It was late summer when Herkuhlos left Nemiyeh. For many moons he had stayed to set things right and his presence as the slayer of Leuhon had helped to provide stability. Makros had settled immediately into the role of chief of Nemiyeh and not only was he respected but had started to be loved for his firmness and fairness.
Most of the remaining people of Pelhbriya had left rather quickly with Kounos but there were few others who wished to leave Nemiyeh for another place and so the walled fortress remained underpopulated. It was hoped that in time more people would be drawn there by its rich lands and defensible position close to the trade routes. Though the smaller population remained somewhat vulnerable to large raiding bands, Makros had sworn that if Pelhbriya was ever threatened he would lead the warriors of Nemiyeh to their defence.
