Free Giants by Vaughn Heppner

legions of men and led them in the Accursed War. After a thousand years, the Dark Kingdoms fell, the bene elohim were dragged to off-world pits, and there chained in adamant until the end of the ages.
    There, it’s said, Azel the Accursed still waits for the Final Judgment. Even now, he ponders the wisdom of his rebellion.
    ***
    Joash blinked when Adah stopped chanting. He was awed at such a tale. Many questions filled him, and he had a terrible fear as well. He’d always hated Shamgar and Balak, but he’d never know the true terror of the First Born Gog and his Temple. How could humanity hope to fight and defeat such... abominations , now that the Shining Ones were gone?
    He tried to say something.
    “No,” Adah said. “Don’t speak. Ponder Azel’s fate. You have more to learn before you should speak.”
    Joash gave her a bewildered look.
    “I know why the mammoths have fled,” she said. “If you wish to learn why, then you must hear more. Do you understand?”
    He nodded, but he didn’t understand. She touched his arm, squeezing it. He understood that! He liked it.
    Adah said, “You are brave, Joash. Here on the forsaken steppes, on the edge of Giant Land, such tales are difficult to hear. And much harder still because you’ve talked with a giant.”
    Herrek shouted in anguish.
    Adah urged the stallions to gallop where Herrek knelt. Joash drew his spear and expected the worst. He was beginning to long for the safety of camp, and even more for the safety of far off Elon. He steeled himself for what he was about to see.

Chapter Six
    The Song of Tarag

    The bene elohim saw that the daughters of men were beautiful, and they married any of them that they chose.
    -- Genesis 6:2

    Joash saw a body lying in the grass. The stiff corpse wore the leathers of a runner. Joash grew faint and felt vomit rise in his throat. The front of the corpse’s head had been smashed in. Joash saw details of familiar things: a bone-handled skinning knife, an armlet of brass smeared with dried blood, an old pouch lined with rabbit fur. Inside the pouch, Joash knew, would be Ard’s lucky stone, one specially polished and purchased from a merchant of Further Tarsh.
    Joash’s chest felt as if it were hollowing out. His eyes grew watery. “Ard,” he whispered.
    Herrek averted his face from the stiff corpse.
    Joash jumped off the chariot and staggered toward his dead friend. His own body was numb. He wiped his eyes, and knelt beside Ard. Slowly he reached out and touched the corpse. It was stiff, immobile, and rigid. He put his hand on Ard’s cold neck.
    Joash jerked his hand away.
    Herrek squeezed Joash’s shoulder. “The attack must have come quickly. Ard probably felt no pain.”
    Joash bowed his head. Ard was dead, lying forever in Giant Land. He hated the Kragehul Steppes, the ancient name for these plains. Why had Lord Uriah come here? Joash finally noticed Adah. She studied the ground.
    “Notice these sabertooth tracks,” she said to Herrek.
    Herrek held his spear, his big knuckles white. “I’ve already seen them,” he said.
    “What is it?” Joash wheezed. He felt drained, although his anger was strong. He wanted to know what had happened. He wanted to slay his friend’s killer.
    Adah glanced at Herrek.
    Herrek nodded.
    “These tracks,” Adah said softly. She faltered and turned away.
    Joash looked in bewilderment at Herrek.
    Herrek pointed at the ground. “Ard was thrown off his feet there.” Herrek pointed at the corpse. “There, he landed.”
    Joash frowned, too drained to understand.
    Herrek knelt by the tracks. He was a keen hunter, one of the best at reading spoor. He pointed at the various indentations. “A sabertooth with a crippled left paw leaped at Ard, and knocked him against that rock.”
    Understanding filtered into Joash’s numbed mind. Old Three-Paws had slain his friend.
    Adah knelt by the corpse. Her knowing eyes examined it. For a time she stared intently at the crushed head. Then she did a