Leviathan

Leviathan

Ancient Hebrew pronunciation: Lev-yaw-thawn

There weren’t always dragons in the valleys. Not while the Elkhana guarded the low places with the second sight—the skill that enables a man to destroy leviathans, and I am the last to possess it.

When battle closes, the sight rises, igniting the air with a shimmering blue foreshadow of the beast’s intentions. Within the sight, I am invincible—three steps ahead of the lightning-fast strike of the tail, the furnace funnel of fire, and the dripping, double-hinged jaws. But the first time I fail, the world will be overrun.

I adjust the thick band of gold around my neck, ever a symbol of my slavery. It weighs on my soul, marking me forever as alone, captive.

The soft tread of a gladiator’s leather-soled boots causes the hair on my arms stand on end. I sit up on the rough pallet, fists clenched.

“Azrael, Chathan wants you scouting within the hour.” The gladiator's wide shoulders block the small barred window. The angry scar running from his temple to his shoulder is testament to his victory in the ring, and though he too wears a slave collar, his is made of bronze. “The leviathan is male, red-streaked.”

He turns away, not awaiting a response. I assimilate his words. Red-streaked—of prime breeding age, territorial, and hungry, smaller by far than a female, but fierce beyond reckoning. I nod, reaching for my whip. Its thick leather braid is soft in my hand, an unlikely weapon for killing the un-killable.

I force my breath to slow, the last red-streaked leviathan Chathan had pitted me against resulted in a grueling day long clash before I could make the glowing eyes go dim. The tension will only hinder my sight when I need clarity most of all.

Forcing my eyes shut in the dank cell, I fend off memories of my father’s last wild cry as his sword stuck the leviathan, his burning focus on the killing blow. I tremble, longing to change the past. The leviathan fell, the ground shaking at the concussion. Father turned to me then, only a boy of 12—well-hidden to learn the way of the Elkhana. Always, the leviathan remain deadly until the poison reaches the brain, and their thrashing goes still.

Why had father dropped his sword? Gaze locked on mine, he raised is a powerful hand in solemn solute. The leviathan's eyes were dimming, but the snakelike neck still writhed. Father stood, his back toward the jaws, waiting.

I shoot off the pallet, pacing the cramped cell, throat burning. I press my fingertips into my eyes, navigating the ways of the Elkhana alone since his death five years ago had been nearly impossible. But Cathan’s wealth had always come from my father’s skill, so he’d found young leviathans to pit me against until I could trust the sight.

The screech of the rusty lock makes my collar seem colder. The gladiator jerks his head toward the armory. Fifteen more guards are selecting weapons. I know none of their names, though they are a nearly constant presence. To Chathan, they are expendable, useful only as long as they both protect and imprison me. His worse fear is that I would escape. That’s why he’d added the massive hound now staring at me from the knee of a gladiator. Specially trained to track me, he strains at the leash.

My life is a strange mixture of the illusion of freedom and the sharp pinch of reality. When recovering from a battle, Chathan keeps me on a secluded mountaintop, ringed about with guards and a high fence. Both serve to contain me and prevent another slave driver from thieving me. But there in my mountain hut, the deception of freedom is so sweet in my mouth. The solitude is like the cloak I wrap around myself at night.

But now, with a contract to fill, the reality of my slavery is inescapable.

“That sword will only weigh you down.” One gladiator sneers at another, who grips a broad sword.

“Better to keep Azrael out ahead and fit your feet with wings,” another says, as if I’m invisible. Scouting missions have proven by far the most dangerous of the guard’s duties. Last fall we’d set out a company of twenty, and returned with only nine, the number sadly including the hound.

The scared one growls at the rest. “Fleeing is not an option. Protect Azrael at all costs, or you’ll meet a worse death at Chathan’s hand.”

The rest fall silent. Far better to die in leviathan's jaws than the slow fade of torture.

“Move out.”

I settle into the familiar arrangement, encircled by ever watchful guards, the hound’s heavy breath rakes my ears, a constant reminder that I cannot escape.

We pass the blackened remains of a fortress. Leviathan’s breath burns long and hot, leaving only charred smoking stubs of the outpost. We pass under the shelter of a wood, following the wide swath of broken trees. I study the deep furrows in the soft loam, envisioning the four-spiked tail.

The scared guard holds up his fist, and we halt, skin pricking. A faint scent reaches me, making my blood pulse hard. I inhale slowly, searching for more. It wakens the sight, and I shudder as it overtakes me, though I find not even a wisp of translucent shape.

The men are afraid for nothing; the leviathan is long gone. Scars flicks his hand, and we push forward. The drag marks end abruptly, and the guards shake off the tension. A leviathan protects its wings above all, never opening them when prey is near. Risking a single flaming fly over, they will inevitably land with leathery wings tucked under thick bony scales. Then they feast from the ground. Afterward, even this rutting male gained the safety of the wood before spreading his wings. His absence leaves us in the perilous position of searching the mountain for him.

Hours of careful stalking pass before we reach a mountain lake. Though the sight has faded without the harsh scent to stir it, I see the faintest blue hue shimmering over the water. The air is crisp, almost cold, but try as I might, I can’t find the sight again.

“Send a man to test the waters,” I whisper.

Scars points silently to a man at the back. He’d lost the key to my cell yesterday and now receives his punishment. The man swallows hard, clenching his jaw. The rocky shore slows his nervous descent to the water. A shadow makes him drop to a crouch, sweat soaking his back. His sword tings against a rock, he flinches, but finds only a hawk on the wing high above.

Even across the distance, I can see his hand tremble as he dips it carefully into the water. He jerks back. The water is hot just as I thought. Even while asleep, a leviathan generates massive amounts of heat, especially after feeding. One drip wavers at his fingertip, then breaks the perfect surface of the lake. I step slowly back into the trees as the small ripple expands.

Far out on the deeps glassy surface, a singular swell rises, then returns to its pristine reflection of the sky. The gladiator stands, searching as he backs up. When the lake explodes, whitewater gives way to the serpentine neck, the wide angular head, ringed with sharp horns and striped brilliant red. The man screams, a mere stutter of a sound, then the jaws close around him. The leviathan sinks beyond the surface in the same heartbeat, and the world shows no knowledge of the man’s existence.

“He’s a big one,” Scars breaths, and we fade into the mountain.

******************************************************************

I cross my arms, faced off with Chathan. “Alone.”

He glares at me, the sun reflecting off his smooth-shaven head and bare chest. “I’ll send a legion before you. They will slow down the beast.”

“No, they will slow me down.” This argument always arises when Chathan grows nervous before combat. “The leviathan I can predict, but men are another matter. It is safer that I go alone.”

Chathan flexes his muscular arms, then rubs his neck, so conspicuously free of a slave collar.

“You know what I say is true,” I assert, playing on his fear of losing me.

He sighs, this is familiar ground, and it remains that the slaying of dragons is the only subject over which I am a ruler.

“You have sufficient poison?”

“Two vials extra.” I keep my gaze lower than his face lest he force me to the ground by my collar.

He nods, covering his nerves, as he snaps his fingers. A boy rushes forward, pulling Chathan’s magnificent white stallion along.

He swings into the saddle; the horse shakes his arched neck and Chathan frowns down at me. “You shan’t fail. Make the kill quickly.”

I sigh as he wheels the horse away. As if I would let my guard down near a leviathan. Father had, the fact eats at me.

I cringe as I turn, finding the troop of gladiators closing in as ever. Inside my cell, I carefully wind both whips into smooth coils, double checking the tiny glass vial of poison cradled safely within the braided tip of the dark brown whip.

I envision the moment it explodes in his throat, seeping in to the whips slash. Yes, that is how it will finish.

I lash the poison whip to my belt, hanging the other across my chest. I pick up the thick branch I’d whittled into sharp points at each end. The red streaked male is much larger than I anticipated and bringing the right length stick to this fight will determine which one of us dies. This one isn’t long enough.

“I need another mahogany shaft.” I say to the nebulous group of men outside my cell.

One of them grumbles, shifting.

“Longer than the last.” I add.

He pitches it through the door, re-latching it quickly as though I’m a wild beast, ready to pounce. He must be fresh from the ring, to replace the man who had tested the water. If only he knew that pitted against a man, I am a decent fighter, though nothing special, not like the gladiators Chathan chooses for my guards. It’s only against leviathans that I am truly deadly.

I slow down the memory of the lake, pausing long on the second the jaws had been wide open, easily twice the width of the man’s chest as he leaped back far too slowly.

Measuring the sturdy log against my chest, I whittle its ends into spears. I force a slow breath against the rising surge of excitement, it’s better to save it.

“I’m ready.” I say softly, knowing the gladiators have been anxiously awaiting my word. The quiet before the fight is where fear eats at you. The immediate scramble of motion outside my door is testament to it.

We repeat the stalk, crouching at the ridge near the lake. The men are sweating, cradling useless weapons. I can smell the fear on them.

“Go.” Scars commands, voice harsh as he pushes me out ahead. He’ll follow until I’ve locked with the red streaked male, then he’ll return to the safety of the unit, listening for the intense silence marking the end.

I slip forward through the thick stand of trees toward the lake.

Scars wide hand bites my shoulder. “Don’t run, or I will kill you myself.”

I turn to find fear in his eyes, like always, as he and I approach a leviathan.

“Never have.” I whisper, more alone than ever. Even this man, my closest companion, is unaware that although I am forced to do this, it’s what I live for. The only time I truly feel alive. Ignited into another realm of existence in the presence of a leviathan.

I step forward, out from under his grip, knowing he will come no further. Glassy water is just ahead. The pebbles on the shore seem too loud in the quiet as I pull my whip from my chest. I inhale deeply, but there is no scent yet to stir up the sight. The wide rocky shoreline is strewn with boulders to the left, offering good cover if the male proves especially irritable.

Silently, I select a rock and rub it in my hands, leaving a stronger sent. I lob it far down the right hand shore. In the heartbeats during its flight, my chest heaves, senses sharpening, ready.

Splash.

A faint glimmer of blue echoes above the water across the lake as I sprint for the nearest boulder, turning behind its shelter, eyes on the shore. A red glow appears under the water’s surface, moving swiftly.

I sneer as the Dragon breaks the water into a white froth. His curved horns a deadly wreath as he searches the bank, eyes glowing brighter, the red sections of his scales ignite into a brilliant crimson red.

His harsh scent envelops me. With a shiver the beautiful blue future of the dragon echoes ahead of him. The sight reveals him locking onto my scent, launching my direction, the long tail with four deadly spikes disintegrating the boulder I’m leaning on.

I spin, launching into the maze of rock. The explosion of his tail’s impact peppers my back with shards. My long whip uncoils in my hand, the shimmering shadow leaps onto a boulder ahead of me, jaws descending. I skid to the right, grinning like a madman, blood pounding. Free.

The beast’s scream rattles my chest, the shore trembles. He’s before me, the height of four men, diamond shaped scales glimmering, the most beautiful creature. His blue foreshadow rears its head, open jaws spewing flame.

I snatch back the whip and hurl the tip toward the largest horn on the back of his head. The leather rends the air, flying straight for nothing, but as it extends to its full length, the leviathans head appears, perfectly following the sight.

The whip's end curls cleanly around the horn, The sharp crack that proceeds dragon fire pulses and the funnel of searing flame ignites. With all my weight I heave on the whip, twisting his head, the streak of fire flares wide to the right. The red glow of his eye brightens, enraged at the restraint.

His foreshadow twists, long neck writhing, jamming hard as if he’s chained to the earth. I search for the reason, he’s dragging me forward, there must be something else. There! A crack in the massive rock at my side offers a perfect anchor for the heavy handle of my whip. Growling, I force the handle toward the opening. Heartbeats are ticking past, and if I miss the image, I will be at the mercy of the dragon's speed. I can’t see my whip in the sight, only the leviathan, but this must be the way. I roar as his motion jerks me toward the rock, the skin of my hands scrubs off against the stone, but the whip handle pinches perfectly.

The leather twangs tight and I leap back. The boulder inches forward at the violence of the beast's resistance.

I rush for the mahogany beam, lofting it like a spear. Roaring as I close in on him, the sight warns that he soon snaps the whip. But I won't slow as his eyes lock on me, keeping the sharpened log outstretched. The leather bursts in half, he shakes his head, growl rumbling, ready.

The blue image writhes, backing up, which means I make a good jab of the log. Confidant in the sight, I catapult past the razor teeth, my arms burning in the heat of his mass. I rotate the log as his jaws descend, jamming one sharp end deep under his tongue, and the other in the cleft between two teeth. My momentum crumples me against the back of his throat, desperately curling away from the ring of his teeth.

My skin sizzles against the hot slime of his mouth as I frantically dig for a vial of poison and a dagger. He flings his head, chomping hard on the log, and I lose my tenuous perch on his tongue.

I scream as I soar out of his mouth, arms flailing till I hit the water. I come up, stroking hard for shore, it's imperative that I get the poison in him before he snaps the mahogany.

His wavering blue image steps before me, his massive weight pushing his clawed feet deep into the shole. I turn aside to avoid him, but a thick coating of algae takes me to my knees. His claws are on me within the sight! I scramble like mad, churning up the lake bed futilely.

“NO!” The lightning fast strike of his foreleg crushes my chest. I suck in a desperate breath as he presses me under, rocks biting my back.

In the swirling muck, the beast struggles with the mahogany: his mouth propped wide, other front paw digging at the wood. His weight makes my eyes bulge, pain shrieking through my body. Blackness creeps at the edge of my vision, twice deprived of air.

The blackens thickens, body bucking hard for breath. I blink, the second sight flickering. Wait! In another heartbeat, he shifts! I strain against the fatal darkness. He repositions, and I surge into deeper water.

One claw rakes my leg, but my face breaks the reddening water and I gasp in a breath. A wave takes me under, and I come up angry, poison whip in my hand.

“You!” I shout, waist deep, enraged.

The leviathan’s scales flash red and orange as he thrashes, jaws still forced wide by the wood.

“You worm!” I roar.

He goes still, bright eyes gleaming, locked on mine. His hiss makes my skin crawl, but I advance toward him.

“Yellow bellied.” I lean forward as I sneer the insult, and two bright plumes of flame shoot from his nostrils.

He comes, the sight reveals it. I finger the vial, wrapped in the tip of my weapon. Before he’s in motion, I sling the whip toward his blue future, and faster than thought, he’s there, maw locked open, exposing the softest part of him.

“Aahhh!” I snap the handle of the whip as the length of it soars into his mouth. The ragged tip lashes him, leaving a crimson trail across the roof of his mouth. The faint crack of the glass vial imploding brings a battle cry of victory. He’s as good as dead now.

His massive snout pummels me against the lake bottom again. I roll, dazed in the boiling white water, through the chaos, I hear the log snap in half. I gain a breath, then I’m pinned beneath one sharp claw.

In the struggle, it's plain, when he dies, he’ll crush me beneath the water. I plunge my dagger uselessly against his scales as his wedge-shaped head searches the murky water for me. His eye is growing dim!

Not like this. Not like father. The vessels in my neck stand out to no effect. A persistent sound reaches me through the crazed water. The mad barking of the hound. The water shutters at the leviathans roar, he twists, launching for the shore.

I gain my feet. The hound, with a link of broken chain dangling from his collar, tucks his tail and runs. The leviathan’s teeth snap a hair's breath from his fur. The light goes out in his wicked eye, and his wide chin digs into the shore.

Chest heaving, I stare at the massive bulk, and a searing sadness grips me. Always, in the moments after a fight, I hate myself for snuffing out the fire. I spread my hands on his scorching scales, so perfectly sealed against one another. The gladiators break over the ridge, whooping loud victory cries.

I glower at them, hatred rising. My roar of defiance echoes over the water, and I stride from the lake, dagger flashing in my fist.

“Spread out and take him with no harm!” Scars screams at the men as they rush toward me.

I leap viciously at the first to reach me, sweeping hard with the dagger. It’s foolish to resist them, but I do so every time, as the chains close back in, and I despise myself for the creature forever laying still.

The man dodges, sweeping at my knees with a long wooden cudgel. Its impact against my wounded leg emblazons me, and I lunge for his chest, slamming him against the rocks. Two more grasp my shoulders, ripping me back as I growl, straining wildly. I kick another in the stomach, and things get rougher from there. Scars rips me away from them, throwing me to the ground. His thick-soled boot crushes my collar against my neck, cutting off air.

“Are you finished?” He presses harder, the gold band cutting deep, I lay still, grimacing up at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of begging. He steps away, “Take him to the creature's head, Chathan will see him there.”

They drag me before the leviathans magnificent snout, its dead black eyes bore into me. Chathan’s white stallion prances sideways as he and the village leader approach.

Chathan gazes down at me, taking in the blood running down my leg, the raw skin on my hands, and the darkening bruise on my eye. “Take him to his cell and patch him up.”