Noah Primeval (Chronicles of the Nephilim) (13 page)

The
Great Desert was a vast hostile territory that would kill visitors unaccustomed to its capricious environment. Travelers faced a lack of water, scorching hot days, freezing cold nights and unpredictable sand storms at a moment’s notice. Fortunately, Methuselah knew the terrain because he had been through its jaws in the past during his giant killing days with his father Enoch. They had crossed the barren terrain on their way to Bashan. They had endured the worst of dehydration and sandstorms, and a most peculiar mystical tree guarded by seductive demons. But he prayed they would not stumble upon that nightmare again because they barely made it out alive.

During that encounter with the demonic tree
, Methuselah’s company had been rescued by a Thamudi tribe that had settled in the region and became allies with them. But they had been on a mission from Elohim that required them to move onward. Later, when Noah was a young boy, the two tribes had met again. Noah had become fast friends with the chief’s son, Salah al Din, whose name meant “righteousness of faith.” Noah wondered how his former playmate had fared since they were last together.

Noah plan
ned to go deep into the desert in an attempt to lose their Nephilim trackers. Jubal and Jabal would lose theirs by fleeing into northern lands where the new kingdom of Akkad had begun. Methuselah and Tubal-cain would cross the Mesopotamian plains to the east and shake off their Nephilim in the Zagros Mountains, doubling back to meet everyone at the village of Kur in Mount Hermon after two moons.

Noah
had not anticipated that all five Nephilim would be on his trail. Uriel had surmised this misfortune by the time they arrived at the Thamudi fortresses.

The Thamud were a mysterious people. Rock dwellers, they literally
sculpted their residences in the stone of the buttes. The outer carving looked like the facades of buildings in any city of the plain, but they were in fact entirely hollowed out of the rocks of the hills. The beautiful, huge creations housed a people of formidable fierceness. One had to be fierce to survive the unrelenting brutality of the desert. The settlement to which Noah returned sheltered about seven hundred souls, three hundred able warriors and their wives and children.

Noah and Uriel
were greeted by a party led by none other than Chief Salah al Din. Noah’s playmate had grown up to be the tribal chieftain.

“Mustafa!” Salah called
to Noah. “Mustafa” meant Chosen One in his tribal dialect. Salah never tired of reminding Noah that he had embraced Enoch’s revelation and believed Noah to be the Chosen Seed who would end the rule of the Gods and bring rest to the land—even if Noah himself would not accept it. “It has been too long, old friend,” Salah said as he embraced his visitor.

“How is that old goat, Methuselah?
’ the chieftain asked. “He and father were as close as you and I.”

Noah tried to keep face with proper etiquette, “He complains too much, but he is still a strong arm for me. We all miss
Diya al Din. Your father was a great man, and we will never forget his kindness to us.”

Salah said, “Thank you, my friend. Our humble home remains your own.”

He read their solemn expressions, sensing that something was wrong. Noah introduced him to Uriel and then broke the news. “I am sorry to tell you, Salah, that this visit is not a blessed one. My companion and I are being hunted by a party of Gibborim.”

Salah knew
of the Gibborim. He knew they only left death and destruction in their wake. But that could only mean one thing to Salah. “If the principalities and powers of darkness are on to you,” he teased, “that must mean you may soon begin to accept your own identity.”

Noah could not return the jest. He was too tired, and scared for Salah and his people. “We seek only supplies, Salah. And we will be on our way
. We will not jeopardize your people’s safety. We have our own quest to accomplish.”

“Nonsense,” said Salah. “Tonight, we will celebrate with feasting, and discuss your strategy.”

Noah could not argue with Salah’s stubborn kindness. He was too desperate at this point. He nodded. He and Uriel rode off with Salah to the Thamudi fortresses.

The banquet tables were laden with the best food that desert living could provide; crispy beetle appetizers, sand grouse, snake, roasted gecko lizards on sticks, as well as a delicacy of gazelle organs. And of course, beer flowed freely. Salah held nothing back from his beloved friend. But he could see that Noah remained somber.

Salah leaned in close to Noah and said, “My friend, how are your people?”

Noah told him the whole story of the butchery of his entire clan, and his subsequent capture and escape. It broke Salah’s heart. His eyes teared up with empathy.

“Tell me of your quest, and how I can be of service to you,” said Salah.

Noah explained grimly, “I have decided that I
will
end this rule of the gods, one by one, by binding them and casting them into the depths of the earth. Our first destination is Mount Hermon.”

Salah knew Mount Hermon’s fame
as the cosmic mountain where the Watchers had come down from heaven. He knew it was the portal to Sheol, guarded by the underworld gods Ereshkigal and Nergal. “But I thought only archangels could bind such divine monsters of power and cruelty,” said Salah. Understanding suddenly hit him. He stared at Uriel. He had been entertaining an angel unaware in his very own citadel.

A mischievous grin settled over Salah’s face. “So it has finally begun. The judgment of God is nigh.” Uriel’s face was unresponsive. He would give nothing away. “We have a saying out here in the wadi,” added Salah. “Let justice roll down like waters.”

Noah said, “But first, we must shake these Nephilim from our cloaks, or we will not live to accomplish our task.”

“Demigods are rascals,”
Salah observed. “They embody the worst of both worlds.”

Uriel knew
this was true. The reason archangels had a harder time defeating Nephilim was that the Watchers’ offspring were a violation of the divide between heavenly and earthly creation. Members of Elohim’s divine council were heavenly beings. They inhabited the same realm as Elohim, just as humans occupied the earth. But Nephilim were the spawn of both heaven and earth. They fully inhabited the corporeal flesh, but were animated by an occult spiritual vitality that almost equaled a member of the heavenly assembly. An angel could traverse between worlds, but would become subject to the limitations of both. Uriel knew this from experience. But a Naphil lived in both worlds at once. In some ways Nephilim were stronger than mal’akim, but the mal’akim angels had one significant advantage: They were immortal, Nephilim were not. Nephilim could die. That point gave Uriel some small satisfaction.

Salah was intensely curious and had much he wanted to ask Uriel. “Tell me, Uriel, how do you bind an angel or a
Bene Elohim
?”

Uriel looked at Noah, who nodded in approval. He could trust Salah with his very life. Uriel pulled back his cloak, pushed up his sleeve, and
touched an armband that looked like it was made of white hair. Uriel unraveled a small amount and let Salah feel it. It felt as fine as a spider’s web and was barely visible.

“
Hair from the cherubim of the throne of Elohim. It is indestructible,” said Uriel.

Salah was amazed. Uriel would offer no more than he was asked, but Salah badgered him with an unending stream of questions. Fortunately for Salah, Uriel was full of wine and he was more open than usual.

“What exactly is a cherubim?” Salah began.

“Cherub,” corrected Uriel.
“Cherubim is the plural. They are the carriers of the throne chariot of Elohim. They were also guardians of the tree of life and the gates of Eden,” said Uriel.

“What do they look like? Do they look like you?”

Salah’s childlike innocence amused Uriel. “They are far more terrifying than me.”

“In other words,” Noah jested, “you would barely notice them in a dark gulley.”

Uriel sobered up. “They have skin that shines like burnished bronze. They have four sets of wings, and four faces. Usually one face is of a human, one of a lion, one of an eagle, and one of the cherub itself. They are accompanied by the Flames of the Whirling Sword, divine beings that can smite anything that approaches their custody. The sound of a cherub’s wings alone strikes terror into the hearts of its enemies.” It was all so matter-of-fact for Uriel. He lived in the presence of these beings, not to mention the more terrifying presence of Elohim, for an eternity.

Salah had pestered Enoch years ago when
his tribe had first met them, so he had a few more loose ends to clear up. “Now, what are the seraphim and how are they different from cherubim?”

“Seraphim are specially appointed Watchers, the reptilian ones, with six wings, that guard the throne of Elohim.”

Salah kept right on moving without a pause. “So the seraphim are like the Serpent of Eden?”

“Yes. But the Serpent of Eden is an unfortunate misnomer. The Nachash is
unquestionably serpentine in his character, justifying the legends surrounding him as one of the seraphim who guarded Elohim’s throne. But he was not merely a serpent. His name in another sense meant ‘brazen brightness,’ and like other Watchers, he was a Shining One. His body was like beryl, his face like the appearance of lightning, his eyes like torches of fire, his arms and feet like burnished bronze. The ‘Serpent of Eden’ became a useful allusion, because he had been cursed by Elohim to crawl the dust of the earth away from his heavenly abode with the Sons of God.”

“Why did he tempt the original pair in the Garden?” asked Salah.

“He is also called
the satan
which means ‘the accuser’ in God’s heavenly court.” Salah followed the explanation well. He knew that God’s divine council of holy ones surrounded Elohim’s throne and engaged in legal disputes of justice on earth.

Uriel continued, “But unlike a just prosecutor of crimes, the Nachash was a liar and murderer from the beginning. He was the
father of lies, the tempter and deceiver of God’s people. He seeks to use God’s lawfulness against him.” Uriel had a particular bitter memory of the satan’s attempt in the past to sue Elohim in his own court. It was a diabolically brilliant strategy of manipulating legal procedure and technicalities against the Judge himself. But it did not quite work.

“But when the pair was cast out of Eden, the Nachash began his campaign to defile every corner of Elohim’s good creation. He set up his parody of the mountain of Eden at Mount Hermon, in Bashan, the ‘
Place of the Serpent.’ He was eventually joined by Semjaza, Azazel, and the other fallen Sons of God to pursue their nefarious grand design on Eden. It was the war of the Seed of Nachash with the Seed of Havah, and it was for total conquest. No quarter given. To the victor, complete spoils. Their loss at the Titanomachy was but one battle.”

“This is a long war not quickly resolved,” said Salah overwhelmed by its implications.

“Indeed,” said Uriel, abruptly changing tone. “And that is why we must be leaving. Your kindness is gallant. But the longer we stay here, the more certainly you become marked quarry for the Gibborim. They will not forgive your hospitality to us. I fear it may already be too late.”

“Too late, you say?” said Salah. “Good. That is exactly what I was waiting for.”

Noah and Uriel were completely taken by surprise.

“Close your mouths, will you? You are letting sand flies in. We have a job to do,” said Salah. “We will take you as far as we can in our underground tunnels, which should further frustrate any scent. And when they arrive and do not forgive us for our hospitality, as you have indicated, then they will simply have to accept our hostility!”

“No,” said Noah. “You cannot do this!”

“It is too late. You said so yourself,” said Salah. “Admit it, Noah, I have bettered you. If you remember, I usually beat you in Seega. Face it, I am a superior strategist.” Salah smiled with a self-satisfied grin. Noah grimaced at the thought. Salah was right. Many times, they had confronted one another in this ancient board game. Salah
had routinely captured Noah’s stones, sliding them off the board with playful jests that irritated Noah to death. But this was not the time for jesting.

“You will all die,” said Noah.

Salah turned deadly serious. “Noah, I have waited all my life for this moment. Do not be so resigned to our defeat. We have a few tricks up our tunics. We know this desert better than this mangy pack of spoiled lizards venturing out of their plush valley. Do you still not realize what an honor it is to defend the Chosen Seed of Elohim against his foes?”

Salah turned to Uriel
. “Uriel, my sympathies go out to you, knowing how difficult it must be to guard this thick-skulled baboon.”

Uriel
chuckled, “This is but the tip of the ziggurat.”

Noah embraced his friend, the mighty warlord Salah al Din. He knew he would probably never see him again in life.

“Come with me, my friend,” said Salah. “I want to give you a gift.”

Noah and Uriel followed into a
chamber filled with bubbling kettles and pots, simmering over several small fires. Salah showed him a cauldron full of thick black liquid. “We call it ‘pitch.’ We create it by a process of distilling bitumen from the ground.” Noah had seen bitumen pits in some areas of Sumer but had not realized it had any practical benefit.