The Tree of Life (Lost Civilizations: 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

suggested such a thing, it might have earned him a beating. There were other Nephilim in the band, the strange Gibborim with their dark magic. But the giants and Gibborim weren’t on speaking terms. The sabertooths might be big enough to ride, but the idea was preposterous. That left the white-haired men, with thick shoulders and heavy features. Each of them wore a loincloth and complex leather straps around his muscled torso. They were the giants’ servitors, and like pack-mules, carried the supplies.
    That first day, Mimir had hooked an odd saddle to the biggest white-haired servitor. The giant had asked Joash, “Are you ready?”
    “My leg,” Joash had told him.
    Mimir had frowned angrily. “High One, boy. Never forget to add ‘High One’ when speaking to a Nephilim.”
    “Your ways are still strange to me, High One.”
    “Better. You must understand that no one else will be as tolerant with you as I am. Forget the proper address when answering a Nephilim’s question and your beating will be brutal.”
    “I understand, High One.” Several years ago, Joash had lived with Balak the Beastmaster for several months. He felt he knew Nephilim ways to a nicety.
    Mimir had nodded curtly, and then motioned to another of the white-haired men. Compared to the giant, the heavily muscled man seemed childlike. “Help him into the saddle.”
    “Wait,” Joash had said.
    Mimir’s eyebrows had thundered together.
    “…High One,” Joash added.
    “What is the problem?
    “High One, do you expect me to sit in the saddle?”
    “Foolish questions will win you a beating.”
    Joash had blinked in amazement, as it demonstrated how the giants thought of the big men as animals, beasts of burdens. The idea had horrified Joash.
    “Hurry,” Mimir had said, “Tarag wishes to march.”
    Joash had breathed deeply. “I’m sorry, High One, but I cannot ride the man as if he were an animal.”
    “You dare challenge me?”
    Joash had paused. To tell the Nephilim that what he did was wrong, might anger him. So, “High One, for me it is wrong to ride a man like a mount.”
    “Don’t waste time with frivolities. Mount the steed. Otherwise, your punishment will be swift and furious.”
    “High One, could you not rig up a stretcher instead?”
    Mimir had gestured curtly. “Mount him, or face the punishment.”
    Fear had filled Joash, but so had a stubborn knot. “High One, I’ll receive my beating now.”
    The towering giant had glowered at him. “You’re a fool. To this beast, carrying a small burden like you will be a welcome thing. Normally, he carries heavy loads. Do not think he resents carrying you.”
    “I will not ride a human like a beast, High One. It’s against Elohim’s dictates.”
    For a moment, Mimir had paled, and looked around warily. Then, he had bent low. “Do not use that form of address.”
    “Elohim?” Joash had asked, refusing to add High One to another when using the Highest One’s name.
    The giant had bared his teeth, as if tasting a lemon. “If you must refer to your god, call him the Overlord.”
    “Why can’t I say Elohim?”
    “It’s forbidden among us. The reason it is forbidden, is because the granting to him of such fawning is repugnant to us.”
    In despair and stubbornness, Joash had turned away.
    Mimir had snapped his fingers. “Help him into the saddle.”
    “No, High One,” Joash had said. “I refuse.”
    It was then that Mimir had taken a whip from his belt, and nodded. The white-haired man who was to have been the mount held Joash down by the arms. Another white-haired man had held his legs. Mimir had beaten him until Joash cried out.
    “You will ride,” Mimir rumbled.
    With his face in the dirt, Joash had shouted, “No, High One! I will not!”
    Finally, Joash had fainted from the beating. When he’d awoken, he’d found himself strapped face down on a stretcher. The two men who had held him during the beating had carried the ends, and they’d groaned under the