Gog (Lost Civilizations: 4) by Vaughn Heppner

himself onto his stomach as he did obeisance. He smelled the putrid decay of meat, and was certain that Gog’s appetites were better left unknown.
    “You asked for an audience,” rumbled Gog.
    “Yes, O High One.”
    “Stand, giant-spawn. Quit muttering. Speak, so I may hear you.”
    Vidar rose, with his head bowed.
    “What has caused the adventurer from Giant Land to crave my presence?” rumbled Gog. “Can it be you wish to complain about Enforcer work?”
    “Never that, O High One.”
    “Never?” mocked Gog.
    “I am yours to command, High One.”
    “You are my slave.”
    “Yes, High One.”
    “Yes,” said Gog. “Now speak, spawn of giants. Tell me your news.”
    Vidar took a deep breath as he became accustomed to the dark. A strange glow emanated from high upon the ceiling. With this barest illumination, he dimly perceived the gargantuan bulk before him. Gog dwarfed him, as the giants back home had. Gog was vast, like a hippopotamus. His skin seemed slick and blubbery.
    “High One,” said Vidar, bowing. “I bear a grim tale.”
    “You?”
    “It… It occurred during the parade, High One.”
    “Did a fire break out in your Merchant Wharf?”
    “No, High One.”
    “A theft of a precious item perhaps?” said Gog
    Vidar hesitated only a moment as he wiped moisture from his lips. “High One, during the parade, Lod broke a soldier’s back.”
    “One should never turn his back on such a madman.”
    “Yes, High One. Soon thereafter, Lod touched a leper.”
    “Oh?” rumbled Gog.
    “High One, through this touch, Lod healed the leper.”
    “Healed?” Anger vibrated in the dread voice. “Pray tell how?”
    Vidar sank to his knees. The wet substance in or of the moss soaked through his leggings. “High One, Lod called upon his god to perform the miracle.”
    “Worm, is this true?”
    “A Bolverk-forged dagger was also stolen—”
    “WHAT DO I CARE ABOUT THAT?”
    Vidar trembled. “High One—”
    “SILENCE!”
    Vidar groveled as Gog breathed heavily. After a time, the breathing grew less ominous. “Continue,” rumbled Gog.
    Vidar told him about the Bolverk-forged dagger, about Scab, and the gap-toothed thief they had found and put on the questioning rack.
    “You discovered this all by yourself, giant-spawn?”
    Vidar hardly hesitated. “Yes, O High One.”
    “You, the simple warrior, the hacker of flesh, discovered this plot?”
    “I serve in whatever duty I am given, High One. I serve with all my ability.”
    “You are more resourceful than I had realized,” said Gog.
    “You are most kind, High One.”
    “No, Enforcer. I am not kind . But soon, very soon, you will be given another task, one more suited to your liking.”
    “Thank you, O Gog.”
    The vast shape looming before him breathed heavily once more. It was a sound a giant cave bear might make or a mighty bosk bull before it charged. “You will find this leper, this healed one. The entire city will help you in this task. I will summon Nebo trackers, and send them outside into the swamps. He must be found, Enforcer. He must be brought before me.”
    Gog coughed like a lion, a heavy, dangerous sound. It made Vidar’s flesh crawl.
    “Go. Begin the hunt. Do not fail me in this simple task.”

Chapter Five
    The Race

    “Even a Nephilim’s kindness is like a branding iron, always burning.”
    -- Naram the Prophet

    Entombed beyond help deep in the Earth, Lod slept as one dead. He was exhausted by his days of battle, by his worries concerning Irad the Arkite. All his fears had now occurred. So he slept, and he dreamed of his bitter memories in Shamgar. He recalled the hideous rats, the Nephilim and the beast that had nearly ended his storied career before it had begun.
    Lod dreamed of his youth, when he had been half-animal himself.
    ***
    The bait, with muscles like twisted ropes, crouched in the rat boat. His knees pressed against his chest. His white hair dripped, and his strange, blue eyes smoldered. An iron collar bound his