Noah Primeval (Chronicles of the Nephilim) (6 page)

“You are the Patriarch. It is your responsibility,” said Methuselah.

“As P
atriarch, I forbid you to tell the elders.”

Methuselah threw up his hands in exasperation. He would not trump authority.

Noah added, “But we will tell them we are moving on the morrow.”

Shafts of morning light broke through the tall timbers of the forest, accompanied by the music of birds welcoming the dawn. Noah woke to the sweet smell of Emzara’s hair nestled in his neck and shoulder. Their breathing synchronized as one. She stirred and he could not help but thank Elohim for another day of life with her.

The flap on his tent slapped open. Lemuel stuck his worried face inside,
which only an emergency would make him do.

Noah looked
at his friend. “Lemuel, we have all day to pack up for the move.”

“A royal entourage from Erech is encamped near the brook,” whispered Lemuel.

Noah sat up abruptly, waking Emzara. “What? How many? Are they armed?”

“A small
delegation,” Lemuel said. “Should we muster our forces?”

“No,” said Noah. “It
must be an ambassador. Go gather the elders. We will ride and see what they want.”

The royal encampment was a third of a league distant from Noah’s settlement. A large ostentatious tent dominated the center, twenty cubits in diameter, made of embroidered fabric from the Indus valley. A line of bird-men soldiers with spears, maces, and axes guarded the perimeter. The banner of Anu flew high overhead on a golden standard.

Noah, Lemuel, six elders and an escort of a couple of warriors halted briefly at the edge of the brook, still partially concealed in the dense forest. Noah patted the neck of his onager
as he looked at the horses of the visitors. He trusted his durable domesticated ass, but he had known of the horses which recently traded all over the Levantine and Mesopotamian plains. They provided stronger mounts and faster travel for flight or fight, either of which might happen in the next few moments.

Noah and his men
crossed the brook with caution, leaving the escort of two warriors behind as watch. A truce would automatically be in effect for such a meeting, but it would not hurt to have a reserve. Noah plodded forward, eyes straight ahead, oblivious to the fact that most of his companions, with the exception of Lemuel, did not share his courage in the face of such large numbers of hostile soldiers, truce or not.

As they
reached the edge of the royal camp, a priestess greeted them. She had painted eyes, hairless elongated skull, and flesh full of tattoos and body piercings. She walked up to Noah with a seductive gait in a translucent gown.

Noah thought,
This heathen religion is a lascivious one
.

The priestess hissed in a whisper, “If you please, you and your
man may follow me. The others may refresh themselves.”

She gestured to a lavish banquet table out in the open
filled with golden cups of wine and silver platters of wild boar and vegetables.

“Thank you,” replied Noah, “but we already ate breakfast. Early risers.” He dismounted
, followed by Lemuel and his men.

“Well, then,” she said, “This way.”

Noah and Lemuel followed her through a gauntlet of bird-men and portable bronze pillars leading to the tent entrance. Noah wondered at the kind of conceit that would produce such luxurious waste of resources. The vast number of slaves needed to maintain the excess of royalty and deity astounded Noah. He noticed that Lemuel kept his hand on his belted mace.

As they entered the tent, four human officers
greeted them, and then stepped aside, bowing in deference. Behind them sat open chests of gold, silver and precious gems, sparkling in the rays of light that peeked in through the tent entrance. It was a king’s ransom. Noah glanced at it briefly. If the display was meant to impress him, it failed miserably.

Behind the
treasure, Lugalanu lounged on a miniature throne in his royal vestments, like a miniature version of Anu. He spoke to Noah in a mimicry of Anu’s own lofty, lighthearted grandeur.

“Welcome to our humble delegation
from the mighty sky god Anu, Lord of heaven and earth, father of the gods. I am his priest-king, Lugalanu.”

Noah sniffed
. “I know a certain Creator who would beg to differ with those titles. And I am not impressed by pompous exhibition.”

“Well, now that I know what you are not, pray tell, who you are?”

“I am Noah ben Lamech, son of Methuselah, son of Enoch, Patriarch of my clan.”

Lugalanu’s brow rose with interest. “Noah, son of Enoch. I have heard of you. You are most respected among the human tribes.”

Noah, dismissed the small talk. “We are nomads and we seek no trouble with the gods of this land.”

“I believe you,” Lugalanu
responded. “The gods, however, are not so easily persuaded.” He paused to add gravity to his tone. “Especially when their servants return to Erech grievously wounded by nomad arrows.”

Lemuel looked nervously at Noah, then at the officers, his eyes on constant watch.

“Some token of respect might alleviate their concern,” Lugalanu continued. “Simple obeisance to prove your peaceful intentions, perhaps.”

The
priest-king was no match for Noah, who made his own pronouncement. “We will bow the knee to no god…,” the pause was noticeable “…but Elohim.”

“Indeed
?” questioned Lugalanu. “And I suspect you even have trouble doing that.” No detail escaped Lugalanu’s eagle eye. Years of court intrigue honed his senses to pick up the slightest nuance of body language and tone that betrayed underlying motives and meanings. He could tell instantly that this man before him had a proud sense of self-importance such as he had not encountered in a decade. He decided to throw out some bait. “Every man is ruled by a god. Except perhaps the man who will end the rule of the gods.”

Noah ignored the suggestion. “My people are leaving this forest this very day. We will leave you alone. We beg your indulgence to leave
us
alone.”

Lugalanu stared at him for what
seemed an eternity. Then matter-of-factly, he said, “I cannot indulge you.”

The answer did not please Noah
. Lemuel fidgeted uncomfortably.

“But I have a counter offer,” Lugalanu continued
. “You are influential with the remaining nomadic tribes. You and your people will not be taxed like everyone else. You will not even be forced to join in public worship. I only ask that you bow the knee to the gods in private and not obstruct the rest of the human tribes from submitting to the pantheon.” His voice was almost conciliatory. “Then you will be left alone.”

Noah stared at him unrelentingly.
Lugalanu clearly had no idea whom he was talking to. “I will not bow the knee,” said Noah.

Lugalanu let out a deep sigh. Noah clearly had no idea whom
he
was talking to. “Very well, then. Pazuzu!” he barked.

Noah and Lemuel
whirled to see one of the black hideous dog-faced creatures at the doorway of the tent.

“Pass the order. Destroy the village.”

The pazuzu took off in flight.

“NOOOOO!”
Noah screamed as he realized they had been betrayed.

In a flash, he and Lemuel were out of the tent, their maces ready to strike.

They stopped in their tracks. A hideous sight confronted them. The six elders and two warriors from the brook hung limp from pillars by their broken necks. The bird-men had managed to completely surprise their quarry with silent death.

Noah’s world
spun around him.

Lemuel’s screaming voice brought Noah back to reality. He dodged just in time to avoid an axe that almost cleaved him in two. He backed up against Lemuel.
Twenty bird-men surrounded them, weapons at the ready. But these mutant creatures had cornered the wrong two fighters. As a battling duet, Noah and Lemuel swung their weapons in a macabre dance of death, taking out soldiers left and right.

Noah downed a soldier behind Lemuel. Lemuel spun and hacked an attacker in Noah’s blind spot. Methuselah and Lamech had trained them together most of their lives with the secret art of
the lost order of warriors called the Karabu. They were seasoned and unbeatable.

Unbeatable until
the net dropped from above.

It enveloped them like a spider’s web. They were trapped prey. Their weapons were useless. The soldiers rained blows upon them, pounding them into submission. Noah’s raw anger kept him conscious. Lemuel blacked out. When the soldiers stopped, Noah knew they were not going to be killed. He dropped his weapon.

Someone yanked the net away. The prisoner’s arms were held back by five soldiers each. Lemuel came to from his black-out.

Lugalanu stepped up to Noah
, reveling in his victory.

Noah spit at him
. “You piece of filth. I should have known never to negotiate with the wicked.”

Lugalanu crowed, “I would expect the nemesis of the gods to be smarter than that.” He gestured toward the trees behind Noah with a slight nod of his head. “Your village is no more.”

Noah looked up in the sky in that direction. Billowing clouds of black smoke in the distance told him all he needed to know.

Noah broke down into tears struggling in vain to get free. He
pleaded, “Please. No.”

Lugalanu looked at Noah with feigned surprise. “Again, you beg my indulgence? Well!” He made a dramatic pause. “I must admit, until I found out who you were, I did not anticipate you would be such a valuable treasure. Your friend
, however, is not.”

A wave of dread washed over Noah. He locked eyes with Lemuel,
firmly held in place by the soldiers. Lugalanu nodded to one of them, who reached over and drew his blade across Lemuel’s throat. Lemuel dropped to the ground, choking to death on his own blood.

Lugalanu grabbed a mace from one of the soldiers. “Every man is ruled by a god,” he
declared, and clubbed Noah into unconsciousness.

It was a massacre. Noah’s camp fell swiftly, taken completely by surprise. The men tried to gather their arms but a contingent of soldiers and a squad of Nephilim warriors overwhelmed them before they could get organized. It would not have mattered if they had. The tribe had last seen the fearsome giants many years before, but no amount of past experience prepared them for this new terror. The giants’ armor was more frightening, their weapons more vicious, their killing more ruthless. If it was even possible, they were
more evil
.

At twice the height of humans, Nephilim could sweep their strange blades like a scythe, decapitating a circle of surrounding enemies.
The extra digit on their hands gave them a more powerful grip on their weapons. The extra digit on their feet gave them a wider surface area for balance. The armed strike of a single Naphil shattered both weapon and limb of a human opponent.

At the first alarm of the
attack, the tribe scrambled for their weapons and mustered for defense. The women and children hid. The circle of evil titans squeezed the tribal fighters into a cluster, ready for reaping. The captains rallied as best they could, calling out for formation.

Lemuel’s protégé, young Shafat,
joined the inner ring as the more experienced fighters took the perimeter. Every man faced out toward the circling giants.

For the first time in his life, Shafat was scared, truly scared. Lemuel had taught him well, and Shafat had proven himself single-handedly worthy on more than one occasion with lions and bears.
But these were not wild beasts; these were demonic monsters. Vomit rose in his throat and he urinated in his loincloth. It was a natural bodily reaction in the jaws of death. Others around him did so as well. The real test was how you responded now that your body had evacuated the toxins.

He saw the impossibility
of victory that was crushing in on him. He saw his fellow soldiers struck down in waves before him. He knew he was going to die. The Nephilim were too strong, too coordinated, and inexhaustible. His heart went weak. He would never see his beloved Shemariah again. They were betrothed. Their marriage would be celebrated at the next moon.
But it was not to be now
, he thought. He would never look into her true eyes again, never kiss her velvet lips. And he would never have the joy of seeing his sons and daughters grown into families of their own—because he was not going to have sons and daughters. All his hopes and dreams would die with him this day, mere moments from now.

H
is training kicked in. He pushed his fear aside to focus on the task at hand. True courage seized him, not some fantasy of fearless glory, but the resignation to his duty to face his fears like a man, to act like something he was supposed to be, not like something he felt. He would do his best, and he was best with a bow. He nocked an arrow, raised his bow arm, and found his target, one of the gargantuan monsters hedging them in. He released without hesitation.

T
he arrow found its mark—in the right eye of the Naphil. The monster lurched back in pain and screamed hideously. The other Nephilim quickly covered their comrade. The wounded one stepped back and painfully ripped the arrow out, pulling its eye with it. It then set its sight on Shafat with revenge and renewed its advance.