Caleb Vigilant (Chronicles of the Nephilim) (23 page)

Talmai said, “And you could not achieve it through strength or might, but through deception and cunning. Like a woman.”

Joshua could see that stung Sheshai. Their worship of
power led the Anakim to despise the nature of the female gender. They dismissed nurture, compassion, and empathy as weakness. Women were reduced to property. They were tools of male sexual gratification and breeding vessels for the growth of the clan. To accuse another male Anakite of female qualities was the highest of emasculating insults. And it was enough to justify a demand for satisfaction through a duel in the Pit of Death.

But
Talmai’s insult was not shallow macho bravado. Sheshai’s treatment of his wife illustrated a deeper truth. He would not have reacted with such emotional vengeance on his wife if he had seen her as merely property. He would not have lashed out at her or his brother if he did not have affection for her that was deeper than mere property.

Sheshai had loved his wife.

Despite the evil that seemed to reign
throughout the land, all human creatures, even half human creatures like the Anakim, displayed a trace of the image of Yahweh suppressed in their soul that leaked through the cracks of their hardened violent exterior. Even evil monsters were capable of love, of kindness, of affection—of weakness.

Talmai broke Sheshai’s silence, “
I shall go to Sheol with the pleasure of knowing that I exposed your frailty: Your humanity.”

He said ‘humanity’ with such disdain because these Seed of the Serpent
detested their human side and desired to be fully gods, like their divine progenitors, the Watchers.

Finally Sheshai spoke. “Talmai,
your entire life you have been nothing but a lawless juvenile. I have rescued you from your own inability to control your passions so many times I have lost count. You have always lacked the character and discipline to achieve the notoriety you sought but could not grasp. You will not be remembered as the most feared son of Anak, as you had desired. Rather, you will be forgotten as just another criminal with delusions of grandeur.”

Talmai
responded through gritted teeth, “Brother, if you fancy yourself such a noble example of Anakim justice and kingship, then I demand that you fulfill our law of blood vengeance and allow me a duel in the Pit of Death.”

Sheshai burst out with a laugh. “Do you really think my honor is sullied by your childish invectives against me?”

“I am not referring to you,” said Talmai. “I am referring to him.”

Talmai glanced at Joshua, whose
blood ran cold.

“That Habiru is the commander of the forces, whose surrogate leader killed our brother Ahiman.
Anakim justice demands blood for blood. Do with me what you will, but first allow me to satisfy our family’s vengeance.”

Sheshai knew Talmai was correct. He may have been a wild and unruly savage, but he knew enough of the law to use it to his own benefit when
necessary.

Anakim
laws of retribution stipulated the right for any citizen to wreak vengeance upon a killer of family members in any way they so desired, including a duel in the Pit of Death. Because Talmai had no access to the offender Caleb ben Jephunneh, his superior officer was judicially guilty as his superior representative. Should Caleb be captured after blood vengeance was taken, he would still face judgment, since substitutionary atonement was never accepted as full satisfaction like it was in Israelite justice.

Talmai knew Sheshai’s other weakness, a tendency to respect the law.

He had gambled on his appeal to Sheshai’s sense of justice and played it as his last peg on the game board.

And he was right.

Sheshai thought about it. Then he looked down at Joshua and said to Talmai, “To the Pit of Death you shall go.”

When the large bronze colored barrier between Ba’al and the archangels began to move, t
he angels knew they were in trouble. It had been stretched over a crevice that encircled Ba’al’s throne. That crevice led to a river of molten lava a hundred feet below. The gargantuan Nehushtan had been warming itself over the heat fumes of the volcanic magma.

But now as it slid into position its head came into view, a
flat-headed cobra with piercing blue lapis lazuli eyes. And behind its head were a series of four reptilian wings that began to unfold. It was a winged serpent, the size of which the angels had never before seen. Its head alone was twice that of the bulky Ba’al, and its body must have been one hundred feet long when uncoiled.

It
rose to a height of twenty feet over them with its hood and wings spread in a frightening hissing display ready to strike.

The three archangels to
ok combat stances with weapons ready to return blade for fang.

Uriel could not help but blurt out, “Not another s
nake. What is it with all these snakes in this land?”

Raphael
said, “I for one plan on having snake steaks this evening.”

Gabriel added, “A
nd a pot of cobra stew. So stop your belly aching and get your dicing blades on, Uriel.”

The huge reptile brought to mind the divine uraeus cobras of Egypt that guarded the Pharaoh’s throne and tombs.
But this one’s size was fitting for its divine liege.

Ba’al belted out, “Archons,
you have trespassed in my palace! Now face the wrath of Ba’al Most High!” He pointed his iron mace in their direction and shouted, “Nehushtan, smite them!”

The copper gargantuan hissed and struck at the
closest foe, the small figure of Uriel, who rolled out of its way with nimble dexterity.

Raphael and Gabriel synchronized slashes on either side of the flared
hood and drew blood.

But it would take much more than the tiny
claws of these rodents to faze Nehushtan.

It followed its original strike with a series of snapping
fangs at each of the angels who had to dodge and dance out of the way with Karabu flair.

Unfortunately, it was not three angels against one gigantic
serpent; it was three angels against one gigantic serpent and the mighty storm god of Canaan, who now leapt forward to engage the angels with his smiting mace and piercing lightning bolts.

Within his palace,
Ba’al apparently had the ability to call forth balls of lightning out of the air above them. A charge would gather around his hand. He would then throw it at his opponent like a catapult of fury.

The first one hit Raphael and sent him
flying backward ten feet to the ground shaking with a seizure until the lightning charge dissipated.

At the same moment, Nehushtan’s tail came around behind Uriel and wrapped around him
in a cocoon of scales.

It was about to be all over
for the angels.

Caleb
had just withdrawn his forces and was still reeling from his losses at the gates and walls of the city. The Anakim filled the parapets swaggering their necks and jeering the Israelites.

Caleb
was in his war tent surrounded by his commanders when Othniel arrived from his failed raid. He was bloodied and beaten and he delivered the news that would push the dagger deeper into Caleb’s guts.

“We were ambushed by a platoon of
giants. We never made it out of the gilgal tumulus. I alone survived.”

It was a devastating setback for Caleb. All three of his attacking forces had been crippled and repelled. He had lost close to three hundred men. And now he was unable to rescue Joshua from the jaws of that hellish titan, Sheshai.

It was a dark day for Israel.

Just like those who died in the failed siege attacks, every one of those men
was a valuable human being who had a family with wife and children. They each had goals and dreams of a life that impacted countless other people. They were stories cut short, narratives unwritten, painful losses to a multitude of other people.

But he was the commander of the forces of Yahweh. He had to keep his mind on his
objective, on his duty to Yahweh.

Caleb
placed his hand on the weary Othniel’s shoulder and said, “My brother, I am grateful for your service to Yahweh.”

He turned away to consider the implications of this failure. Joshua would not be coming back to the congregation of Israel.

All the commanders knew it too.

But their dread silence was broken by the arrival of another messenger.

“General, the sappers are successful! They await your command!”

Caleb turned to his commanders and said, “Ready your forces.
This is our last chance.”

When the Israelites had first arrived at their siege of Kiriath-arba, Caleb had set about in preparation for several plans of attack. The battering ram and siege ladders had failed. But the third stratagem was to use the mining knowledge of the Hittite war counselors from Gibeon to dig tunnels into the Anakim city.

They had started behind the Israelite lines out of sight of their enemies. They had been patiently digging all the past week underneath the skirmishes and battles that had led to this very moment.

And Caleb had directed the mining sappers to tunnel to the one location that the Anakim would never suspect: The gates of the city. He had correctly surmised that if their battering ram tactic had failed, the Anakim woul
d assume Israel too demoralized to attempt another attack on the gates. That they would seek another approach.

And Caleb was right. He had even left the burning remains of the battering ram blocking their entrance up the rampart of
the gates. This was surely interpreted as a sign of resignation on Caleb’s part.

It
was not anything of the sort. It was a ruse.

A significant force of several hundred warriors traveled through the tunnels to the end point just inside the city gates.

The sappers prepared to make their breakthrough. They had used a rigging to hold the ceiling of the tunnels in place as they dug to within inches of the surface.

Outside the city, Caleb led three divisions of men in what looked like another ladder attack, away from the city gates.

The Anakim focused their attention on the foolish Israelite attempt to repeat their previous failure.

But underneath the city gates
, the sappers used ropes held by the hundreds of waiting soldiers to pull the rigging down and with it, the ground surface beside the gates.

A huge sinkhole opened up, the size of ten men wide. By the time nearby Anakim had figured out what was happening, a flood of Israelite warriors was already pouring in like a dam bursting.

They slaughtered their way up into the gate towers and opened the threefold doors like a gaping wound.

The Israelites outside the walls then abandoned their ladders and ran along the walls toward the gates.
Their enemies above killed some, the removal of the battering ram slowed others down, but the ruse had worked. Thousands of Israelites poured through the city gates like a bleeding artery.

They held their
bridgehead with fierce determination fueled by the memory of their fallen brothers.

The Anakim regrouped and came from every corner of the city to meet their Habiru enemy with every giant in arms.

But it was too late. The Israelite allied forces pushed inward like their long lost battering ram.

Giant met human. Metal clashed
with metal. The Anakim were spread out, the Israelites were concentrated and overwhelmed their enemies. If these forces met on the open battlefield, giants had the superior numbers because of their size and strength. But within the city, size encumbered agility and speed moving within and around the obstacles of buildings and alleyways.

The Anakim were under the ban of
herem
, so the Israelites were slaughtering every living thing—man, woman and child. They set homes on fire and left in their wake a frightening destruction.

Yahweh had turned the tables.

Joshua stepped out into the large arena surrounding him with empty seats. It was the Pit of Death. There would be no audience for today’s contest, except for six guards at the perimeter, for everyone else in the city was along the walls in battle positions against Israel.

Normally, in a blood vengeance duel, the offended Anakite would have the right to handicap his opponent with a wound of some kind to ensure victory for the justified.

But not today. Talmai was avenging his brother Ahiman’s death at the hands of Caleb, but he wanted his justification to be entirely of his own power. So he did not wound Joshua, but left him unscathed with full capability.

Talmai wanted it to be an equal match so that his victory would be that much more glorious
—his revenge that much more satisfying. This half-pint human would not stand a chance against his skill or force.

But no matter the outcome, the victor would be brought back to the dungeon by the watching guards for a later execution. So this fight was more for personal satisfaction than anything else.

As Talmai entered the Pit, Joshua turned to face him.

Talmai towered four feet over Joshua’s near
six-foot height. And Talmai was frightening in his special Anakite fighting attire: He was naked, except for his short loin covering, leather belt, and war necklace of gold showcasing his long warrior neck. His head was completely shaven of his blond locks, and he carried nothing in his huge six-fingered hands.

It was going to be a hand-to-hand fight to the death. Talmai was going to rip off Joshua’s limbs one at a time and feast on his brains with relish.

Talmai’s occultic tattoos appeared to move on his skin as he approached Joshua with caution.

Though his opponent was a puny human, Joshua
was no mere warrior. He was a gibborim of the Habiru who had terrified the Canaanites and colluded with Talmai’s treacherous brother.

For his part, Joshua knew that once they began to physically grapple, he would not last long in the giant’s grip. He was out-muscled by his opponent. He had to stay out of his reach if he wanted to live.

So how would he be able to kill him if he could not touch him? This was not going to be easy.

This was going to be impossible.

They circled each other, feeling out their adversary, planning their strategies.

What Joshua
would not give now for just a scrap of Caleb’s Karabu training.

He saw now, too late, that all his discipline, all his will to power that he had spent his life cultivating, was no match for the will to power of a creature of this size and capacity.

What good would Joshua’s brute force be against a monstrous brute twice his size and probably three times his brute strength? He felt like a hyena facing down a lion. He did not have a chance.

This would not end well for Joshua.

He did the only thing he could do when facing his certain death; he uttered a prayer. A simple prayer.

“Yahweh, help me.”