In the Beginning (Anthology)

by Laureen Cantwell

  Father and the light-eyed man, Zebulun, anchored my hands into the center of the boat. My legs cramped until I toppled onto my rear. Inhio gritted our teeth and growled at Zebulun. The Exokint ignored him, tightening the knotted mass of shackles and hook.

  My consciousness drifted. My eyelids fluttered, and the flesh enjoyed some slumber.

  A scraping against the wood beneath my feet roused me. Inhio immediately strained against our bonds. The boat rammed against a deserted bank. A level plain stretched in front of us. Behind us, a steep bank of rocks jutted skyward and plateaued into a butte. Goats climbed the rocks, chomping clumps of sage and juniper. Such a normal scene in my abnormal reality.

  As soon as the chains were loosened, Inhio shoved my father back and jumped toward the water. A long pole flashed in front of us and a jerk on the chain spun us around. We panted, sprawled face-up, a mere inch from the water.

  The boaters grabbed our shoulders. Zebulun yanked the chain, forcing us to follow him. Inhio wrestled from side to side, elbowing and grunting. It gained nothing but aching arms. My broken arm swelled and the shackles cut across it, numbing my fingers. Too bad the rest of my body wasn’t numb to the avalanche of pain my numerous wounds caused.

  “The general?” The dark-eyed Exokint spoke to someone behind us.

  Inhio jerked our head in every direction. Concentrating on a single thought or voice proved impossible.

  No. I will die before I look at him.

  The caterwauling punched my soul. I closed my eyes, shrinking away from the battering ram of jumbled emotions.

  Make it stop. Please, anyone, make it stop.

  I will make it stop. I will kill you, human.

  Death would be better than this.

  We shuffled past a group of travelers. These ones ministered to The Exokint as they sought demons to banish. A pot of water simmered over one fire. Roasting meat tantalized from another.

  I knew what would happen but accepted my powerlessness to stop it. Inhio slammed us to one side, jarring the man who braced us. We ducked past the man on the other side, and Inhio flung us onto the smoldering fire pit.

  My chin and chest flamed. Nothing prepared me for the lances of pain rumbling over me. The searing heat melted the concentration needed to keep up my mental shield, and my screams echoed through my skull. The demonic laughter rang alongside my tormented cries.

  Someone jerked us backward. The shackles cut into my wrists, and the chain choked off my air. These new tortures barely registered against the scalding inferno devouring the front of me. A cloth snuffed the flames. My whimpering drowned out the voices hovering over me.

  “General.”

  Inhio kicked out with our legs. He rolled us toward the flames, but the dragging chains hindered him. Hands grappled at me. Men shouted.

  Above the cacophony, a powerful voice rang out, clear as a hammer on nails. “Stop.”

  Our body froze. My demon afflicter whined like a whipped puppy and shuffled away from me, huddling into a tiny ball.

  Not him. Anyone but him.

  I opened my eyes. Or tried to. The self-inflicted battering had swelled one eye closed. The crowd parted. A man strode toward us. His black eyes pierced through the haze, suffocating my soul. I quivered at the inspection.

  He had unremarkable features. His robe, white with a dark sash like all The Exokint wore, didn’t distinguish him, yet this must be General Son-hi, their leader. This man caused my evil tormentor to hide like a child?

  The general looked beside me, and I did the same. My father stood there, shirt torn and muddied, scratches along his jaw.

  I’m sorry. For more than I could ever explain.

  “What of this evil spirit?” General Son-hi spoke with a strange accent.

  “It found him in the mountains. He cannot speak, but it throws him often into the fire or the water.”

  “General, we compelled it to come forth.” The dark-eyed Exokint spoke his words close to the general’s ear.

  “This kind requires prayer and fasting.”

  The black eyes fixed on my face again. I stared into them, tears blurring the image, while Inhio howled and moaned. No longer a wild thing on the prowl, he sounded like an injured beast. One that needed to be put down.

  “I seek your name, demon. Grant your host a single word.”

  Something in my throat seemed to break loose. When I sent the command to speak, I knew it would work.

  “Inhio.” My voice was less than a croak.

  The general’s piercing gaze saw much. I felt naked before him. My legs and arms trembled.

  “Inhio, you have punished this host enough.” The power in his voice resonated through me like earthquake tremors. “Come forth.”

  The demon’s claws gripped into my soul. I cried out, floundering against the brutal talons. An instant later, they slipped and fell away. The mist churned and coalesced. Icy shards plunged into my skull. Something tugged the blackness toward my face. Shrieking and writhing, the malignant presence spiraled out through my open mouth and nose.

  “You are finished.”

  Everyone around stared at the general, but I knew they didn’t understand a thing he said. Why did it make sense to me? The powerful voice resonated along my spine, and its music soothed the seeping wounds caused by the demon’s torture.

  The demonic shadow coalesced into a dark form, standing toe to toe with me. An anguished sneer marred its smooth, ebony skin.

  “Inhio, I banish you to the Outer Night.” The general waved his hand. “Be gone.”

  A light flared beside the Exokint leader. In an instant, the shadow disappeared, sucked into the glaring, sparkling vortex.

  I slumped to the ground.

  Remove the shackles,” the general commanded in the common tongue.

  “I need a smithy,” my father said.

  The chains dropped onto my thighs. My raw and bleeding arms weighed nothing. My father knelt beside me and I reached for him, cringing at the flare of heat across my chest and ache between my shoulder blades. My legs twitched. My body cried in misery, but my heart sang a melody of liberation.

  “Scisco, you’re home.”

  Father embraced me. The smell of sweat, sulfur, and iron dust—my father’s personal cologne—tingled in my nostrils. I inhaled. Moisture rolled down my cheeks, stinging the lacerations on my face. Who cared? It was nothing compared to the anguish I had endured with the demon.

  Zebulun knelt on my other side. “I can heal you.”

  A woman from the crowd passed me a wooden cup half-filled with water. I drained it.

  I struggled to speak. “Wait. General.”

  A collective gasp rose from the people circled around me. The Exokint shoved the chains off my lap. My father and Zebulun pulled me upright, looking anywhere but at me. Had I made another mistake? My heart slammed against my aching chest, but I pressed forward. My ordeal couldn’t end like this.

  My legs trembled as I stepped toward General Son-hi. Emotions I couldn’t name swelled like floodwaters. The total aloneness inside me announced my freedom. Bondage had clarified so many things. My future, for one.

  We faced each other and I said, “Thank you.”

  It fell woefully short of my true gratitude. Words couldn’t express the cistern breaking in my soul.

  He stepped closer and rested a gnarled hand on my shoulder. A strange current—soothing and energizing all at once—sizzled through every nerve of my body. My pain ebbed and my mind sharpened.

  “I want to help you.” Hunting demons might atone for my misdeeds. I shivered at the thought of anyone suffering the same powerlessness and horror. “I want to hunt demons.”

  Those dark eyes searched my soul again. Guilt gnawed at me. I clenched my teeth and lifted my chin.

  “The Exokint are not of this world,” he said. Something about the movement of his lips made me realize he no longer spoke my common language.

  How can I understan
d you?

  “Because I will it.” His voice warmed my mind, a clear contrast to the icy disgust of the demonic presence. “You need not atone for deeds committed by Inhio.”

  How do you know?

  His eyes remained fixed on mine.

  “My body. I saw myself—” I shuddered. The atrocities committed by these very hands sickened me. I raised them up, envisioning the innocent blood covering them.

  “Now you understand what it means to be a better man.”

  A better man? How could I go forward with chains of guilt binding me? The demon might be gone, but he’d committed punishable crimes with my body. And I needed to hang for them.

  “You are forgiven, Scisco Irons.”

  I bowed my head, blinking away a rush of tears. His fingers squeezed my shoulder, and another tingle of his power zipped straight to my heart. His pardon obliterated my death sentence. Still, the evil remains unleashed, other demons waiting to prey on humans.

  “But the demons must be banished.” I clenched my fists, sending pain thundering up my arms.

  “That is a task for The Exokint.” General Son-hi ducked his chin, a silent promise in his eyes. “Yours is a different path.”

  Visions of the chasm and the societies on the other side spun through my mind. That had been my dream—before. Experiencing those wonders was an immature desire. Wasn’t it? A hunger to thwart evil blotted out all else.

  “Fulfill your purpose,” the gentle voice sounded in my head. “Remind those across the chasm what it means to be human.”

  I crumpled to the ground and buried my face in my knees. Humans were weak. Weakness allowed demons to dominate us.

  Why? What’s so great about humans?

  “You focus only on the negative.” His tone chided me this time. “You kept Inhio from controlling you completely. Where did that strength come from?”

  My heart leapt into my throat. Even when I couldn’t stop him from hurting people, I kept Inhio from using my voice. How did I do that?

  “You held on to courage, hope, and kindness. These are the human traits those in the East need to be shown.”

  As he spoke each word, an image filled my mind. Courage to send MJ away when the demon pursued me. Hope that The Exokint could free me from the clutches of the evil one. Kindness from my father and Robin, who ministered to me though I lashed out at them.

  The past weeks played out in vivid detail. I imagined separating my thoughts during that time from the actions and feelings of the demon. I wanted to stop his cruelty; he’d forced me to participate in his debauchery. Inhio was inhuman. Not me.

  “Follow your heart, Scisco. Go as my ambassador,” the general said in his accented common tongue. “Where once you were weak, I offer strength.” A breeze flapped the hem of his robe as he strode away.

  Zebulun held his hands out to me. I grasped one, feeling warmth flooding over my injuries, and pulled myself to my feet. He placed his other hand on my head and whispered words in the foreign tongue. I could no longer understand them. After a few minutes, he slapped my shoulder and joined the stream of people following the general.

  “I’m glad to have you home,” my father said, draping an arm over my shoulder.

  When did I become as tall as him? We stared each other directly in the eye—gray eyes to brown.

  “I’m not staying long.” The weight of the chains on my wrists reminded me of what I hoped never to forget.

  He nodded. “I know. You’re a man now. With your own destiny.”

  Knee-high grass ruffled beside us. A final ray of sun glinted on the plain stretching endlessly, like the sea I must cross to fulfill my new purpose.

  At the thought of traveling so far in a boat, my stomach danced against my ribs. Forget bravado, it couldn’t climb this mountain. I pictured those black eyes, heard the words of power. I squared my jaw. General Son-hi had strengthened me for this task. My fear and my time with Inhio had a purpose now.

  Step off the edge into the unknown again? Sure. But this time it wasn’t a dare that compelled me. It wasn’t false bravado. It was a message of hope.

  THE DELUGE

  Marti Johnson

  GENESIS 6: 11-13, 17, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION

  11 Now the earth was corrupt in God’s sight and was full of violence.

  12 God saw how corrupt the earth had become, for all the people on earth had corrupted their ways.

  13 So God said to Noah, “I am going to put an end to all people, for the earth is filled with violence because of them. I am surely going to destroy both them and the earth.

  17 I am going to bring floodwaters on the earth to destroy all life under the heavens, every creature that has the breath of life in it. Everything on earth will perish.

  THE DELUGE

  Marti Johnson

  Noah

  My mother and I were hurrying to the market the first time I saw old Noah. She swept ahead of me along the hot, dusty road, and I had to run to keep up with her. Even though she was pregnant with my little sister Nadena, she walked quickly, gliding along like a big bird. Her green linen shawl billowed and flapped around her in the breeze. As we approached the market place, we had to weave in and out of the surging hordes of people and I was frantic not to lose her.

  “Wait for me!” I called to her as she made her way deftly through the crowd.

  Suddenly, I heard a commotion around me, and the voice of old Noah rising above the multitude. A crowd had gathered around him, and he was loudly proclaiming to the people, “Save yourselves. Repent of your sins. Follow the one true God and forsake all your false gods.” He was earnestly yelling above the din.

  “Repent! Repent!” mocked one young man, and I was shocked when he picked up a stone and threw it at Noah’s head. Noah deftly dodged the rock, and ducked again when another was thrown. This one struck him in the shoulder, and Noah’s voice faltered, but he didn’t stop shouting. He struggled to be heard above the din. “Repent now, or you will not live!” Noah stood tall in the square, in spite of the protests. “Forsake your violence and your false gods and follow the one true God.”

  I had forgotten my wild fear of being left behind, and stood with my feet planted, my eyes and mouth wide open, staring along with the crowd at the old man. I soon felt my mother’s quick tug as she grabbed the back of my tunic. “Come, Naomi, don’t pay any attention to that crazy old man!”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of Noah, even as my mother dragged me away. His old beard and hair fell about him like a lion’s mane. When he opened his mouth to shout above the noise of the crowd, it appeared as a black hole. I couldn’t see any teeth. He looked scary, like some kind of ghoul. I turned quickly, grabbing for my mother’s cool hand, and ran after her. But all that day at the market, as my mother went about my father’s business, I heard Noah calling out to everyone who would listen, and after all who were trying not to listen.

  “Repent, or you will surely die!”

  I was shocked when my gentle mother turned to him, finally, and yelled, “Be quiet, old man! You will give the children bad dreams!” It’s true that I was afraid of him, and puzzled by his strange message.

  I had never heard my mother raise her voice against anyone before. I guess that is why I never forgot that day, even though it was a long time ago, and I was pretty young then.

  “My mother was like a lioness,” I laughingly told Gareth years later. “She was so bold!”

  “You are my lioness!” he proclaimed, and grabbed me, pulling me to him, growling like a beast. “Stop it, Gareth!” I pushed him away pretending to be angry, but inside I was happy.

  I’ll say this for old Noah, he doesn’t rest on his laurels. You would think that somebody his age would want to sit back and relax. They say he’s over 600 years old, and it shows! I mean he doesn’t spend any money at the baths or in the shops on oils or potions. I don’t think he owns more than two shawls, and both of them are getting tattered where they sweep the gro
und. He looks shrunken. The straps of his old sandals have broken many times, and he has simply added more knots and bits of leather and linen to them, to keep them on his feet. He doesn’t seem to care how he looks. It’s not because he is poor, though. He has plenty of money to buy up all of my father’s stores of grain and seeds. Most people with money seem to be more careful of their appearance, but Noah doesn’t care about what anybody thinks. He cares only for the God he continually goes on about.

  Noah’s old beard and hair just fall around his head like a wild beast’s. His eyes, dark as coals, squint against the sun, and he appears to be listening to a conversation nobody else hears.

  He has many sons. Shem, Japheth, and Ham, the youngest, take after their father, working madly all the time, and preaching to all of the rest of us.

  Ham

  To tell the truth, I used to get all giddy when Ham came into my father’s shop, and I would dream about being his wife. Ham is tall, and handsome, and strong. He used to tease me and compliment me, and once he brought me a little jar of honey.

  “The honey is sweet, but not as sweet as you,” he said, “Your skin is the color of honey in the sun.”

  I suddenly felt light headed and had to hold onto the counter. Looking at his big dark eyes made my knees feel weak, and I would have followed him out the door like a little puppy if my father had not been watching. His scowl brought me back to the real world.

  “Get back to work, Naomi!” My father called out, sternly, and I hid the honey away in my shawl. If my father had seen I had taken a gift from Ham, he would probably have made me return it. I smiled slyly after Ham as he ducked out the door of my father’s shop.

  That was before I realized how crazy Ham’s whole family was. The only reason my father welcomes them to the shop is that Noah has money, and he buys so many goods. “They may be crazy,” my father says, smiling broadly, “But their money is still good.”