Enoch's Ghost

by Bryan Davis

  The song repeated, piercing Elam’s heart. Every phrase was so sad and lovely, filled with remorse and dampened with bitter tears. Yet, could this be the prophesied enemy? Surely she could easily be the one who would lust after his fruit, a bat in voluptuous disguise ready to drink his life’s blood.

  “I’m going to find out for sure.” Elam called into the woods. “Who is there?”

  At first, a soft gasp drifted from the trees, then a timid voice. “I am called Naamah.”

  Elam took yet another step closer. “Naamah, the seducer of men and minion of Morgan Le Faye?”

  The voice drifted again from the dark woods, wounded and forlorn. “I am no longer in her service. If you know of my past harlotries, please have mercy on me.”

  Setting his feet, Elam cleared his throat. “Come out, Naamah. If you have any weapons, drop them first.”

  “I cannot come out. Not only do I have no weapons, my clothing is shredded and does little to cover me, so it would be shameful for me to show myself.”

  Elam squinted at the tree line. A young woman peeked out from behind a trunk, her hair draping a bare shoulder. Her face suddenly turned pale, and she hid herself again. “Elam!” she cried. “Go away from me! I am a sinful woman who deserves nothing from you but death.”

  Elam’s heart melted. The fear in her eyes was more real than any he had ever seen. Switching to the most soothing tone he could muster, he called again. “Come out, Naamah. You have nothing to be afraid of.” He took off his cloak and held it in front as he walked toward her tree, watching the ground at his feet. “Let me know when I’m close enough. Then, please cover yourself with my cloak.”

  After a few more steps, her soft voice came to his ears. “You are close enough.”

  Elam turned his head and locked his gaze on Dikaios. The horse eyed him back, as if probing his mind for a thought.

  As the cloak pulled away from his hands, Elam kept his eyes on Dikaios and spoke in the same soothing tone. “Let me know when you’re covered so we can talk face-to-face.”

  After several seconds, she spoke quietly. “I am covered.”

  Turning back toward her, Elam saw the familiar face from the magnetite mines, the place of his childhood slavery. Still petite and beautiful, yet with streaming tears marring her lovely face, Naamah stood before him, her arms crossed in front of her as she shivered. She had gathered the cloak’s long cape, passed it between her legs, and tied it at her hip. Her legs showed from the knee down along with a dangling black shred from her dress underneath.

  Seeing her, Elam’s bitter memories of her cruelty quickly fled from his mind. “Why are you here?” he asked.

  Backing away a step, Naamah replied, her words punctuated with sobs. “It … It is all such a mystery. I remember … getting stabbed in my guise as Constance in Dragons’ Rest. I remember bleeding … bleeding all over the street. … Everything went dark, and someone picked me up off the ground.”

  She sniffed hard, and her voice settled. “Then I was clothed in my old black dress, and I walked through a dark tunnel for hours and hours, maybe even more than a day. A voice kept echoing in the tunnel. It said, ‘Abandon hope, all ye who enter here’ over and over again. That’s when I knew I must have died. After a while, I saw Morgan walking next to me, but she couldn’t hear me no matter how loud I cried out to her. I screamed, ‘You lied to me! You promised me eternal life! You lied to me!’ But she just kept walking. I wanted to grab her throat and strangle her, but for some reason, I couldn’t reach out at all. I just had to walk on and on.

  “Finally, we came to the end of the tunnel where an angel sat at a huge table. He had four faces and four wings, and when he stared at me, it felt like his gaze burned into my mind and read every thought inside. He spoke to Morgan first. He said, ‘You cannot go to Hades, for you have become the mistress of that place and have the power to conquer and subdue it once again. You will go directly to the great judgment seat where your sentence will be delivered and the manner of your final death revealed.’

  “Morgan never even flinched. She didn’t cry or beg for mercy. She just stared defiantly without a word. Then, another angel wrapped a heavy chain around her and dragged her away.”

  Naamah lowered herself to the ground and sat cross-legged on the grass, tucking the cloak around her legs. While Dikaios grazed nearby, Elam sat at her side, leaning close. “So, what happened to you?”

  “The angel pointed at a page in a huge book that sat on a table and said, ‘You have followed an unusual path and arrived here without dying.’

  “Of course, I was shocked. ‘I died twice,’ I told him, ‘at least it seemed that way. The first time, Morgan pushed me out of the ark and made me a wraith, then someone stabbed me with a staurolite blade, which can even kill a wraith, and that’s how I came to be here.’

  “He stared at his book long and hard, as if he were reading my life’s history. ‘No,’ he finally said, ‘you were merely translated without dying. The staurolite blade can, indeed, kill a wraith, but Lilith never had the power to raise a soul from the dead or transform you into a wraith. Her master, the father of lies, deceived her and did not tell her that God is the one who transformed you, but into a being of a higher order than a wraith. Lilith was jealous of your lack of need of regeneration and invented the lie that her continual deterioration was due to her union with a Watcher, when the truth is that you retained a real, living human spirit that kept you whole.’

  “Again, I was shocked. I could only blurt out, ‘But why?’

  “He said, ‘It seems that God has another purpose for you. You have, however, used your God-given gifts of beauty and song for wanton pleasure and seduction, so God has pronounced his judgment, as he did against Israel by the mouth of Ezekiel. Therefore, O harlot, hear the word of the Lord. Because your lewdness was poured out and your nakedness uncovered through your harlotries with your lovers and with all your detestable idols, behold, I shall gather all your lovers with whom you took pleasure, even all those whom you loved and all those whom you hated and expose you to them. They will strip you of your clothing and will leave you naked and bare. Behold, I will bring your conduct down on your own head, so that you will not again commit this lewdness on top of all your other abominations.’

  “I wept bitterly and cried out, ‘Is there no mercy? It is true; I have been deceived by Lilith, the ancient witch. And, yes, I willingly accepted her offer of eternal life and beauty, but I was a foolish sheep led to slaughter. Will God have mercy on this wretched soul?’

  “Then the angel’s face began to glow, and he said, ‘The Lord has heard your cry, and like Israel, he will establish a covenant with you, and you shall know that he is the Lord, in order that you may remember and be ashamed, and never open your mouth in perverted song because of your humiliation, when he has forgiven you for all that you have done. You will wander in the Bridgelands until someone comes who takes pity on you and covers your nakedness. He will have the fruit of righteousness within him, and the blood of eternal life runs through his veins. If you want to prove your repentance, then serve him in righteousness for as long as he has need of your wisdom, and he will offer you the life you seek.’

  “‘But I have no wisdom,’ I said to him. ‘I am a harlot, as you have rightfully proclaimed, so what good would I be to such a man?’

  “Then he said, ‘I will teach you what you need to know.’

  “After his teaching, the angel took me to this forest and left me here alone. I have since spent many nights waiting for deliverance, yet the men who have come by have only offered to expose me further, attacking me and tearing my clothes, but they were struck blind and wandered away before they could do me more harm.”

  Naamah sighed and lowered her head. “And now here I am.”

  “I’m the one who covered you,” Elam said, “so I guess you’re supposed to tell me what you learned.”

  “But it is such a mystery! The angel showed me the face of a mount
ain, like a tall slab of marble, that drew pictures on itself as he sang. He told me that I should lead my new master to the cliff and that the words of a new song would alter the scenes and explain what my master needed to know. I didn’t understand the drawing or the angel’s song, so how can I explain them to you? And I don’t even know where the cliff is. How can I possibly lead you to it?” Naamah spread out her hands and sighed. “Since I didn’t have a chance to ask the angel before he left, these thoughts have tortured me ever since. And now that I have found my new master, how can I ever gain the eternal life that flows in his blood, since I’m unable to do this task?”

  “I know of a cliff that holds drawings,” Dikaios said. “It is far, but I think we can reach it before we tire.”

  Elam stood and brushed off his pants. “Then, if you would be so kind, good horse, please lead the way.”

  Dikaios snorted and gazed at Elam. “Most unusual, indeed.” He turned toward a high ridge in the distance and loped away.

  Elam reached for Naamah. “Shall we follow?”

  “If it pleases you,” she replied, taking his hand. “But I fear that I will disappoint you greatly.”

  After a few minutes of walking, they came to a grassy field striated with bands of knee-high red flowers. More stones than usual littered the grass, most smaller than hens’ eggs, but a few would have taken both hands to lift. Dikaios picked up the pace, avoiding the random stripes of nodding blossoms, and pulled ahead by about forty feet.

  Elam quickened his gait to match the horse’s, but Naamah slipped away and waded into one of the flower beds.

  “We’d better get going,” Elam said, waving his hand. “He’s leaving us behind.”

  “Wait!” Naamah bent over and picked three red flowers. “The aroma is so sweet!” She ran up to him and pressed the petals up to his nose. “You see?”

  Elam sniffed. The smell was sweet … dizzying. He backed away, feeling confused. “Dikaios!” he shouted. “Wait a minute!”

  Hoofbeats sounded. “Get rid of those flowers!” the horse yelled.

  Naamah threw them to the ground. Dikaios grabbed Elam’s sleeve with his teeth and pulled him away from the garden while Naamah followed, her head bowed.

  When they were in a clear, grassy area, Dikaios let go. “Those flowers are for weary travelers,” he said. “The scent helps them get to sleep quickly.”

  Naamah yawned and laid a hand on her brow. “They work very well.” Lowering herself to the ground, she yawned again and stretched her body across a soft bed of grass. “I’m sorry. I just can’t help it. I have to rest.” The moment her head touched the ground, she fell asleep.

  Elam rubbed his eyes. “It’s got me, too.” Yawning, he looked at Dikaios. “How long does it last?”

  “It depends on how deep a draught you took and how tired you are. When did you last sleep?”

  Elam shook his head, barely able to see through the fog building in his vision. “I had a pretty bad night’s sleep in the second circle of Hades, but I don’t know how long ago that was. Time passes so strangely. And I slept for a little while when I first got here, but that wasn’t exactly a normal nap.”

  “Since you are both still among the living, you require sleep.” Dikaios nudged his ribs. “It might be better if we all take a rest. The journey is difficult.”

  Elam yawned again. “Just a short nap.” He knelt close to Naamah and was about to lie down, but he quickly rose again. “I’d better put some space between us.” As he walked about twenty paces away, putting Dikaios between himself and Naamah, the horse just watched, saying nothing.

  Interlacing his fingers behind his head, Elam lay back and closed his eyes. Within seconds, he was asleep. At first, he knew a dream had begun, but the scenes absorbed his mind, making them come alive.

  He was back in the brick kilns with Raphah, his fellow slave in the days before Nabal, the giant taskmaster, cruelly whipped him to death. They had just finished a day’s work and were washing their hands and faces in the underground spring. They scrubbed away kiln residue that had coated their bare arms, exposed by short-sleeved tunics necessary for the hot labors of brick making.

  Nabal entered, Naamah at his side. “Nabal,” she said, pointing at Raphah, “take him to the antechamber.”

  Jerking Raphah’s arm, the giant led the boy away. Raphah looked back at Elam and pressed his hands together in a prayer posture.

  Naamah, wearing a silky black gown, slinked up to Elam and gazed into his eyes. Her lips pursed as she pressed close. “Elam,” she said, caressing the muscles rippling across his bare arm, “you have been strong. You have honored your father’s rules, and I’m sure he would be proud of you. He wouldn’t expect you to suffer.” She glanced briefly at a pair of shadows projected onto a rocky wall, two forms standing behind a partition, the larger one raising a whip. “Or your friends to suffer.”

  Elam averted his eyes, keeping them trained on his day’s work, a tall stack of bricks still radiating heat and smelling of smoke. He tried to slide his arm away from Naamah’s fingertips, but the sight of Raphah’s imminent beating paralyzed him.

  “You have something I want, Elam. This is my third visit, and it is not often that I can come here without Morgan’s knowledge. You won’t disappoint me again, will you?”

  Crack! The whip’s cruel bark echoed from wall to wall, but no human cry followed.

  Elam sucked in a breath. Raphah was holding his tongue. Brave, brave Raphah.

  “There is no need for anyone to suffer,” Naamah continued, her fingers creeping toward his shoulder, “when pleasure is so close at hand.”

  Elam’s cheeks burned. Prickles crawled across his skin from head to toe. He had to escape. Just run away. But where?

  Crack! This time a muffled grunt blended with the whip’s sadistic echo. Raphah’s shadow collapsed, and Nabal’s silhouette began to raise the whip yet again.

  “So, Elam …” She pinched his tunic and pulled him away from the wash basin. He shuffled his feet, following her tractive gait, still watching the shadows out of the corner of his eye. Naamah stopped next to his bed. She laid both hands on his chest and nestled her head between them. A subtle aroma from Naamah’s hair sweetened his rapid breaths. She sighed, sending warmth through his tunic. “What is your answer?” she asked, her voice cooing like a dove. “Will you give me what I desire?”

  “No!” Elam shook his head violently and snapped open his eyes. A blue sky? Grass and flowers? He exhaled loudly. It was just a dream. He was back in the Bridgelands. But the familiar scent hovered in his nostrils. Naamah’s hair. The same gentle touch.

  He glanced down at his body. She was there! One hand was on his chest, and her face was close to his neck but pulling away slowly. Were those fangs over her lip? He lurched to his feet and scuffled back, shouting, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Lying in the grass, Dikaios thrashed his body and lunged upright. “What? What did she do?”

  Naamah rose slowly to her knees and stared at them, her cheeks awash in red. “I … I was trying to get close to you. I woke up all alone, and I was scared, so I wanted …” She covered her face with her hands and wept.

  “She was after your life’s blood!” Dikaios yelled. “She was using her harlotries to seduce you so she could steal your eternal life for herself!”

  Elam’s stomach felt like daggers were piercing it through. “Naamah? Is that true?” As he waited for an answer, the prophetic rhyme swam through his brain.

  But still there lurks a dangerous foe

  Who seeks to drink of Elam’s life,

  To take the fruit that burns within

  The flame that melts a subtle knife.

  Staying on her knees, she scuffled toward Elam, her hands folded. “No, Elam,” she cried, “Please believe me. I just wanted to be close to you. You’re the only one who ever showed me any mercy.” Grasping his ankles, she bowed low and dripped tears on his sandaled feet. “I confess that I
thought about stealing your life while you slept, but I didn’t do it. Even as my lips drew near to your throat, I changed my mind and decided just to rest at your side.” She wiped the exposed part of his feet with her hair, and her cries became a long wail. “Please forgive me!”

  As her head bobbed up and down, Elam glanced at Dikaios. The horse wagged his head hard. “The only reason she didn’t steal your life is because you awakened before she could strike! She has used your goodness against you, Elam. She gained your trust only to get close enough to drain your life. She is the worst of harlots! She is a deceiver! A betrayer!”

  Elam stepped back, pulling free of Naamah’s grasp. “What should I do?”

  “The harlot must die. If you let her live, she will only seek your life again. She is insatiable and can never change.” Dikaios kicked a stone next to Elam’s foot. “You must do away with her. Stone the wretch and cast her into the eternal fire.”

  Elam bent down and picked up the fist-sized stone. Tightening his grip around it, he lifted it to his shoulder and glared at Naamah. “You have been a deceiver all your life. You tortured both Sapphira and me and many other laborers in your slave pit. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t do what Dikaios says!”

  “No, Elam!” Naamah raised her folded hands. “You must believe me! The angel said a man would cover me and offer me life. Other men came by, but they did the opposite. They talked of Jesus, but it wasn’t the Jesus I knew. It wasn’t the Jesus I met in Palestine. He offered me freedom from Morgan’s spell, but I refused. He was kind and gentle, not like those fools. They mistreated me and counted me as nothing but a harlot, a worthless harlot.”

  She paused and took a gasping breath, her eyes growing wider. “But you … you covered me, so I knew you were the one who had life. All I had to do was somehow get it, but I thought when I came to the mountain face I would be unable to make the drawing change, and you would send me away. So, in my vain imaginings, I wondered if I could take the blessing before you learned of my inability to serve you. But I didn’t do it, I …” Again she paused. Lowering her hands, she gazed at him. As new tears dripped down her chin, she bent her body low and curled up into a trembling ball. “I am still a foolish harlot,” she said quietly. “Do to me what you must. Even for thinking about betraying you, I deserve worse than stoning.”