by Bryan Davis
The ground vibrated, and Thigocia’s voice rumbled. “What is this darkness?”
“A mist. Something wicked.”
“I thought I felt a presence, but I could not be sure.”
“Listen,” Makaidos said. “It sings.”
“Shall I call for help?”
“Shh!”
Both dragons fell silent. Makaidos concentrated on the whispered aria, a lilting melody that played like a fresh breeze on tender grass.
Your heart of gold should never fear
Arrival of the dawn,
For each new day shall bring new hope
As moon begets the sun.
Erase your mind, O dragon wise,
And let your gates be breached.
The time has come to greet new thoughts
Your maker failed to teach.
For wisdom comes when laws of old
Are swept like spiders’ webs,
And minds like yours discover truth
In life’s new flows and ebbs.
For how can wisdom’s laws be true
When taught from books to squires?
Experience stands as wisdom’s tool
To guide you through the mire.
O let me in to teach you songs
That come from heaven’s lights.
You’ll never fail to conquer foes
And rule o’er kings and knights.
For man corrupts and soils his own;
The world will die again.
His lust for blood and gold and flesh
Destroys what dragons mend.
Makaidos clenched his eyes shut and pawed at the streaming mist. “Do not listen! It sings foul words!”
“Too late. I heard every syllable.”
“Then do not heed them!”
“I knew that much! But how do we get rid of the mist? It is blinding me!”
“Close your eyes!” Makaidos shot a blast of hot gasses in the direction of Thigocia’s voice. “Can you see now?”
“Yes! Your turn!”
Makaidos kept his eyes closed while hot air, smelling of burning sulfur, bathed his face. His vision cleared, and a wisp of black fog brushed by his ear, singing one last phrase before streaming toward the sea. “I will be back for your son.”
Makaidos blasted a flood of fire at the retreating blackness, but it was too late. The fog danced over the water and disappeared like evaporating mist. “If you dare come back,” the dragon bellowed, “I will melt your songs into screams of agony!” He turned to Thigocia. “Any harm done?”
“No. No song could ever turn my heart from the Maker.”
“Did you hear anything else, I mean, after the song?”
“No. Only the song.” Thigocia nudged Makaidos’s wing and snuggled under it. “What did you hear?”
Makaidos glared at the island’s shore. “Just a bully’s taunt. Malicious words are just noises in the wind.” He extended his wing over Thigocia’s body and stroked her flank. “With our danger sense getting strong again, we will be alerted if the mist tries to return.”
Thigocia rubbed her cheek against Makaidos’s neck. “You need not tell me about the taunt, if that is your wish, but I am curious.”
“I wish not to tell. Too much information can be dangerous.”
“Is the truth ever dangerous?” Thigocia asked, stretching to look into her mate’s eyes. “Even too much of it?”
Makaidos avoided eye contact. “If it is more than our hearts and minds can manage, yes.”
“I will remember that. Too much information can be too taxing on our brains.” Thigocia turned her ears outward. “The mist sounded like many voices. Do you have any idea who they were?”
“Yes. Although they drowned in the flood, their evil spirits must have somehow survived.”
“The Nephilim?”
Makaidos shifted his body toward the ark. “I have to warn Noah.” He stretched out his wings and tried to lift off the ground, but they faltered and fell limply to his flanks. He sighed and raised his brow. “It seems that my strength won’t fully return until we build our regeneracy domes. Will you walk with me?”
She shuffled to his side and nudged his ribs with her snout. “As if you could stop me.”
Ham pushed the tent flap open and ducked inside. A single candle burned near his father’s mat, barely enough light to see two elongated lumps on the opposite side of the tent. “I think I know where it might be,” he whispered.
Shhh!” Naamah warned, following him. “Just take it and leave.”
As Ham’s eyes adjusted, he could distinguish the shapes of his father and mother sleeping peacefully, their arms interlocked. He stopped suddenly, then stepped back. “He’s. . he’s uncovered.”
Naamah laid a hand on his back. “What did you expect? The wine was strong.”
Gazing at Noah, Ham smirked. “The great man of God, drunk and naked. Now who’s bringing shame to the family?”
Naamah pushed him forward. “Just take it.”
Ham skulked to his father’s side and fumbled through the clothes that lay on the ground. Ah! Chereb! He picked it up, but his father’s robe came along with it. He pulled at the knot that tied the sword to the robe. “It’s stuck!” he hissed.
Noah stirred, his eyes blinking. Ham froze and waited for his father to settle, hoping his drunken eyes wouldn’t see clearly. When he seemed to rest quietly again, Ham tiptoed back to Naamah with the robe. “I can’t unfasten it.”
“Just bring it all!”
Ham and Naamah slipped out of the tent, but just as they turned toward their own tent, Shem and Japheth hailed them from a distance. Ham held the robe and sword behind his back while Naamah clawed at the knot. Just as Ham’s brothers drew near, Naamah whispered, “I have it. I’ll hide it under my robe.”
Shem nodded a greeting. “Visiting Father?”
“Yes.” Ham shifted his weight and glanced back at Noah’s tent. “He seemed ill when he retired, so I thought I’d check on him.”
“Just some bad wine,” Japheth said, laughing. “He’ll feel better in the morning.”
Shem glanced around Ham’s side. “What are you hiding back there?”
Ham pulled Noah’s robe around. “I went into the tent, and Father was. . well. . uncovered.”
“So you took his clothes?” Japheth snatched the robe away. “What are you up to?”
“Well, I was just. .” Ham crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s none of your business.”
Shem grabbed Ham by the throat. “You’ve humiliated father for the last time!”
Ham caught Shem’s wrists and wrestled his hands away. “I didn’t go in there to shame him!” he said, pushing Shem back. “He was already uncovered when I went in.”
Japheth shook the robe at him. “Then why did you take this?”
“Naamah was cold.” Ham turned, but Shem took a fistful of his sleeve and spun him back around. Ham scowled at him. “What now?”
Japheth laid a hand on Shem’s wrist. “Let him go. Father will deal with him later.”
Shem jerked his hand back and raised his finger near Ham’s nose. “Father told me that anyone who brings corruption back to this earth will be under God’s curse. If you are the corrupter, Father will have no choice but to pronounce the curse on you and your descendants.”
Ham turned again and stalked away. “Come, Naamah.” Refusing the temptation to look back, he strode through a pasture and crested a low hill next to Noah’s vineyard, his wife hustling to stay at his side. When he was sure they were out of earshot, he stopped and turned to her. “Where is it?”
Naamah clutched a fold at the front of her robe. “Right here.”
Ham peered over Naamah’s shoulder at Shem and Japheth as they approached Noah’s tent. His brothers had draped Noah’s robe over their shoulders, and they were walking backwards into the tent’s opening. Ham shook his head. “The fools! They still believe in that old tyrant.”
Naamah touched his arm. “Don’t worry a
bout them. They don’t know what we really did.”
“They’ll know soon enough. When Father wakes up, they’re sure to tell him that I had his robe, and he’ll figure out that I took Chereb.”
“Then you must leave before the wine wears off.” She pulled the sword from her robe and laid it in his hands. “I’ll follow with Canaan and our belongings later.”
“You heard what Shem said. If Canaan is here, and I’m not, Father might curse him in my place.”
“I will soothe your father’s anger.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Now go.”
Ham folded his robe around the sword. “We will meet at the third hill past the dark forest. Do you remember the glade next to the river?”
“Yes, of course. Look for me there at sunset on the third day.”
Ham nodded and hurried through the vineyard.
With Shem and Japheth standing at the entry, Noah paced back and forth inside his tent, his hands behind his back. Shem pushed open the flap. “She’s here,” he said.
Naamah walked in, carrying her sleeping one-year-old in a blanket, her eyes darting all around. With the bundle almost too big for the petite woman to manage, she briefly dipped one knee and nodded. “What may I do for you, my masters?”
Noah grabbed Naamah’s wrist. “Who are you?”
Her eyes flew open, and her voice trembled. “I am Naamah, your servant.” She clutched her baby closer to her chest. “I am the wife of your son, Ham.”
“No, I mean who are you really?” Noah tightened his grasp. “Where did you come from?”
“My father is Lamech of the line of Cain, and my mother is Zillah.” As she stared at Noah’s fierce grip on her arm, tears welled in her eyes. “Why do you ask me about things you already know?”
Noah jerked his hand away. “Don’t take me for a fool,” he shouted. “I have watched you ever since you boarded the ark with my son, and I know when someone is hiding a secret. Last night, as drunk as I was, I saw you bring him into my tent. You enticed him to take Chereb from me, and I want to know why.”
Naamah lowered herself to her knees, her eyes pleading. “I am a servant, Father Noah. Ham asked me to be his wife, and I accepted. Since he rescued me from death, I serve him with all my heart. So when he commanded me to help him steal the sword, I obeyed, as any obedient wife should.”
“He mocked me!” Noah shouted, shaking his finger. “He was pleased to see me shamed! And you saw it all.”
“I do not pretend to know my husband’s motives, Father Noah, nor do I know why he gazed upon you, but I am a chaste woman, and I assure you that I turned my head. I know what is forbidden to my eyes.”
Noah’s brow slowly relaxed, and he gestured for her to get up. As she rose, Noah looked at his two sons. “Should I believe her?” he asked.
Shem nodded. “You warned me not to be a merciless judge, Father, so I advise compassion. I know what Ham would have done to her had she disobeyed.”
“I agree,” Japheth said. “I have watched how she cares for Canaan. I guess I have a soft spot in my heart for mothers.”
Noah sighed. “As do I. Perhaps too soft.” He extended his hand toward the baby and caressed its cheek. “I still sense a dark secret in your heart, Naamah, but I will forgive your transgression.”
“Oh, thank you!” Naamah rose to the balls of her feet and kissed Noah. She pulled Canaan’s arm out of the blanket and guided his hand across Noah’s beard. “Say thank you to Grandfather!”
Japheth leaned close, his jaw dropping open. He nudged his brother’s ribs. “Shem,” he whispered. “Six fingers!”
Shem shoved his way between his father and Canaan, grabbed the sleeping child’s hand, and spread out his fingers. “Father! Look!”
Noah seemed perplexed for a moment, his lips moving as his eyes numbered the five fingers and thumb. “So that’s your secret!” he yelled, his face flushing scarlet. “You have carried the demon seed into our refuge!”
Naamah backed away, her whole body shaking. “No. I am a woman. I carry no seed but what my father has passed on to me.”
Noah’s eyes flashed, and he pushed his hand through his white hair. “How can this be? Only a demon or a Naphil can pass on such a seed, and Canaan was born eleven months after the flood began, so Ham must be the father.”
Stepping slowly backwards, Naamah gave him a quick bow. “Then by your leave, Father Noah, if you are convinced that my son is of the devil, I will go now and cast both of our bodies into the sea. Far be it from your servants to bring corruption back into our new world.”
“No!” Noah gestured toward his sons. Each of them laid a hand on one of Naamah’s shoulders, stopping her. “The boy must live,” Noah continued. “You have spoken truly about his fate as a servant. He is cursed, and he will be a servant to Shem and Japheth.” He pointed outside. “Naamah, you must leave us. Take whatever you need for travel and sustenance, and may God have mercy on both of you.”
Shem and Japheth released her. Naamah glared at both of them, clutched the baby more tightly to her breast, and backed out through the tent flap.
Shem jerked the flap closed. “She is a deceiver.”
Noah sighed, nodding slowly. “I know. Yet, God will use even her to glorify his name. From the harvest of Canaan’s crop will come a great evil, but the soil for his seed will carry another seed the gardeners do not expect. The crop God raises up will be as tares to the enemy’s wheat, one that sets the entire field ablaze.”
“A prophecy, Father?” Shem asked.
“Yes, Son.” Noah lifted his gaze upward. “A prophecy. . and a promise.”
Chapter 6
Underborns
Mara held open the bottom of the scroll with her elbow and ran her finger along a line of text. The light from her lantern flickered across the page. She squinted in the dim glow, nearly swallowed by the shadows of the stony cavern, yet bright enough to read Mardon’s handwriting. The story filled her with wonder dragons, elephants, monkeys, and hundreds of other wonderful creatures all loaded on an amazing floating vessel long before she was born. She rubbed her hand along a sketch of a dragon, admiring the image of a world she had never known. What she wouldn’t give to have been there!
She glanced at the hourglass perched on her worktable next to her elbow. Only a few grains of sand remained at the top. As she rolled up the scroll with its heavy wooden dowel, pain throbbed in her stiff shoulder. She grimaced at the ache. The soreness was worse than usual, but no surprise, considering all the digging she had been doing.
She hugged the scroll to her chest and closed her eyes. As a tear trickled down her cheek, she wagged her head back and forth, trying to chase the beautiful images out of her mind. Seeing all those wonders was just a dream. There was no way an insignificant slave girl could ever hope to visit such a paradise, much less live there, so she might as well get back to reality, the reality of hard work, sweat, darkness, and pain.
Breathing a big sigh, she opened her eyes and admired the tall, arching alcove she had excavated in a massive wall, her rocky workplace for the past several days. Although it was fairly shallow, only about as deep as the fireplace cavities up in Shinar that she had read about, it still had taken a long time to chisel out.
She knelt at the ankle-high hearth at the base of her alcove and pulled out three loose bricks, making a low, wide cubbyhole, perfect for hiding away the scroll for a while. As she pushed the scroll inside, a clicking noise made her swing her head around. She gazed into the dimness that shrouded the massive chamber. It was probably just one of the timid rock mice that sometimes skittered through the air vents. Then again, maybe it was Mardon coming to inspect her work.
While giving her shoulder a one-handed massage, she slid a lever embedded near the bottom of the hearth, opening the magnetic field. A chorus of low hums sounded from the wall, each with a slightly different pitch that slowly rose in volume.
Taking a step back, she surveyed the bricks that lined the border of the alcove.
The magneto brick at the top of the arch glowed green, just as it should. The three on the left glowed blue, indigo, and violet, while yellow and orange emanated from two of the bricks on the right. A third one remained dark.
Mara wrinkled her nose. What was wrong with the red one? The magneto should have energized by now. She leaped onto the hearth and pushed on the end of the malfunctioning brick, budging it just enough to align it with the side of the alcove. It pulsed red, then glowed steadily, adding its hum to the chorus. She brushed her hands together and smiled. Finally! The last magnet was working!
Stepping inside the alcove, she pressed her back against the rear wall. When she reached forward, her hands didn’t quite pass the point where the wall was before she chiseled it away. Stretching her arms to the sides, she could barely touch the magnetized bricks with her fingertips. Finally, she reached as high as she could, but the arch was still more than twice her body’s length over her head. It was perfect.
She skipped out of the alcove, jumped off the hearth, and spun around, crossing her arms as she admired her creation again. The lantern on her worktable flashed and beamed a strong yellow light that painted her shadow on the recessed wall. Shallow as it was, the grotto had taken eleven days to excavate, even with the sharpened chisel Mardon had given her, but now it was finally ready for her spawn.
As Mara retied the sash on her smock, she noticed a tiny pebble sliding toward one of the magnets. She slapped her forehead. She still had to check the balance! Reaching under her smock, she pulled a glass vial from her dress pocket and held it close to the light. She shook it, loosening the iron filings that had settled at the bottom. After setting the vial inside and at the center of the alcove, she scanned the seven magnets in turn. Each metallic brick seemed to aim its end directly at her iron filings.
Kneeling on the hearth, she peered into the vial. The filings began to dance, arranging themselves into a perfectly symmetrical crystal with tiny black diamonds sketched throughout.
