The Tree of Life (Lost Civilizations: 3) by Vaughn Heppner

night,” said Joash, “that Lersi said she’d captured me because Tarag had ordered it. Therefore, I’m of the opinion that you’ll have to ask your master before you’re allowed to kill me.”
    Mimir stepped away, squatted so his leathers creaked and picked up a pine needle. “You’re different today. You’re working hard to appear calm. Oh, you’re frightened, but you have more confidence.”
    “You are Mimir the Wise. I decided that trying to fool you would be a waste of time. Therefore, honesty will be my way.”
    “And what will you honestly tell me?”
    “What I already have.”
    “Why won’t Tarag slay you?”
    “I don’t think this band works like that. Each of you plots, each of you schemes. You each think yourselves to be greatly superior to a mere man.”
    “We not only think it, we are.”
    “Maybe superficially,” Joash said.
    “How can you think otherwise?”
    “You war against Elohim. Only fools dare that.”
    “You’ve become uncommonly brave, manling. It’ll bring about your death.”
    Joash shrugged. “All men die.”
    “Not if they eat from the Tree of Life,” Mimir said.
    Joash lips felt numb as he stretched them in a ghastly smile. “First, they must eat the fruit. No mortal has ever been able to do that.”
    Mimir scratched his cheek with the pine needle. “You wish to thwart us, yes?”
    “You know I do.”
    “You’re a Seraph. You’re one of the Overlord’s chosen ones.”
    Joash nodded.
    “You begin to remind me of Lod. He was ever as arrogant as you are today.”
    “Thank you.”
    Mimir grinned, but there was nothing friendly about it. “You’ve reached the stubborn side of Seraph-hood. You’ve become drunk upon what you think as your Elohim-given duty. That’s unfortunate. It might no longer be possible for us to use you.”
    Joash tried to hide his fear. He hadn’t thought of that. Slowly, he calmed himself. Mimir tried to manipulate him through fear.
    “You cannot outfox us,” Mimir said.
    “Nor am I trying to.”
    “It appears not.” Mimir crumpled the pine needle. “You are mistaken if you think you can survive in our band if you refuse to say High One, or continue to say Elohim.”
    “Nephilim Mimir,” Joash said gravely. “You keep thinking I’m a man, a young man. But I’m not. I’m Elohim’s Seraph. You can frighten me, you can overpower me, you may even be able to kill me, but you cannot sway me to your ways.”
    “You may be surprised, manling.”
    “You, in turn, may be in for surprises, giant.”
    Mimir ruefully shook his head. “I admire your heroics. Believe me I do. But, it will all be for naught. If I cannot tame you, then Tarag will take over. He will either kill you, or give you to the Gibborim. Think well, therefore, on your next words.”
    “I already have, Nephilim Mimir. You desire something concrete from me. Of what exactly I’m not yet certain. I, too, however, wish for something from you. Maybe we can work out a trade.”
    Mimir laughed.
    Joash shrugged and bent down to pick up his bedding.
    Mimir reached out, and held the bedding in place. He no longer laughed or smiled. “The Gibborim can break you. As you’ve seen, I don’t like them. I’m not willing to give you to them so they can gain your ability. It would be wise for me to slay you now.”
    Joash stepped away from Mimir, leveling his walking stick, switching it to use the knobby end as a mace. “I’ve no wish to die. But if you’re determined to slay me, then let’s fight.”
    Mimir snorted, rising to his full height. “I rejoiced when I heard Lod had been slain. Now, I see he has returned. You’re a madman.”
    “No, I’m a Seraph.”
    Mimir shook his head. “I wonder what joy the Overlord gains in raising such fools as you.” The giant tugged his beard, and said at last, “You must act submissively in camp and around other Nephilim. Or, at least obey my commands and keep silent. Can you do that?”
    “Maybe,” Joash said.
    The giant sighed.