Noah Primeval (Chronicles of the Nephilim)

by Brian Godawa

  “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.

  Salah explained how his tribe had learned that it was useful for many tasks, including creating long-burning torches and for waterproofing boats and homes.

  Noah could not believe his ears. This was an answer to one of the problems with his calling. The directions for the tebah, the box, had included covering it inside and out with “pitch.” Now he understood what that was.

  Salah gave them some small pouches with the pitch sealed in them. “You may be able to use them some day to find your way in a dark place.”

  Noah and Uriel tucked their gifts away and bid their host a restful night. They retired to their chambers and entered the deepest sleep they had experienced in weeks.

  The Gibborim came at night. They did not even bother to use stealth. The ground rumbled, announcing their approach. It was sooner than Salah had anticipated. He was not as prepared as he hoped to be, but they would make the best of it. They were three hundred battle-seasoned warriors against five demonic Nephilim. Could it really be that impossible?

  The Nephilim began their assault by catapulting huge boulders at the embedded fortresses. Three of the demonic soldiers held their shields up as cover while the other two jettisoned the large stones into the rock walls, using a sling made from the thick hides of elephants. Within a day, the outward structures crumbled to piles of rubble. Many of the interior chambers collapsed from the pounding force. The women and children moved further back into the tunnels for protection. The men prepared to fight these gigantic hellions in hand-to-hand combat.

  The Thamud had dromedaries for their cavalry. Though camels looked clumsy compared to a horse, they were actually quite fast animals, able to run up to fifteen leagues in an hour in a sprint. They were not afraid of battle. The Thamud gave them light leather armor that kept them agile in a strike force. They could literally run circles around the Nephilim to tire them out. It became like a game of tag for them. The limber sprinting dromedaries dodged the lunging, clumsy monsters. The Nephilim would sometimes fall on their faces in the dust. Salah’s soldiers laughed at them, ensconced in the stone bulwarks.

  The harassing campaign did not last long.

  The Nephilim figured out the patterns of the camel-bound warriors and began capturing them and crushing them. The remaining cavalry retreated to the fortress and readied themselves for the next attack.

  Salah’s forces kept up the harassment and held the Nephilim at bay for days. But the end was unavoidable. Cavalry, arrows, maces or spears could not stop the Nephilim. They eventually wore down the defenses and pushed the Thamud back into the underground shafts, burrowed over generations. The Gibborim were smart enough not to allow themselves to be separated, where they could become victims of overwhelming odds if lured down various cut-off corridors. But it was here that they also made their mistake.

  The Nephilim had wounds, but they were used to such minor inconveniences. They decimated Salah’s men step by step. A mere forty humans were left, and they were in their final throes. The Naphil leader saw that Noah had not gotten out in time. The fleeing pair had stayed to fight with their desert allies in the hopes of stopping their pursuers. The Chosen human and his irritant archangel were finally cornered with the Thamud in a last stand cavern carved out of the desert rock. They stood in the center of the contingent guarding them with their lives, lives that would soon be extinguished.

  Salah’s captain noticed that there were only four Nephilim. Had they separated after all? It struck him immediately. They must have sent a scout to find the tunnel exit. He screamed at the top of his lungs, “THE EXIT! GET NOAH OUT!”

  It was too late. The fifth Naphil came through the cave exit, dragging the corpses of guards he had mutilated. He bit off one of their heads and screamed the war cry of the Gibborim. The men were trapped. There was no escape. They would have to fight to the last man and pray their deaths would be quick and without torture.

  This close to the source, the lead Naphil could smell Noah’s scent. It attacked and split the human unit in half, grabbing Noah and Uriel within mere seconds. The leader pulled back the stinking cloak.

  It was not Noah or Uriel, but in fact Salah and his Captain wearing the prey’s clothes. The Naphil screeched in anger. They had been deceived!

  Salah laughed triumphantly and yelled his command to his soldiers. They waited at the key brick buttresses. At the signal, they released their latches. A series of cascading collapses brought down the entire ceiling, caving in on their heads. Every last one of them, human and Naphil, were covered in a grave of rock and sand that no living thing could survive.

  The Thamud had sacrificed themselves to stop the Nephilim.

  Chapter 13

  Emzara learned the network of secret passageways below the temple district and city with the patient help and support of Alittum. It was a complex system, like a spider web, with intersecting hallways, and dead end tributaries. An uninformed traveler of the passages would get seriously lost without proper directions.

  She thought of her beloved Noah and how he would be proud of her, if he knew what she planned. She was nearing her child’s birth. She became more heartsick for her child at the thought of birthing him without his father present. She prayed to Elohim that her child would not be raised within this wicked culture of idolatry. Lugalanu’s statement about the child’s temple devotion haunted her. It would be a fate worse than death to see her son in the grip of these despicable false gods. If only her beloved knew she was still alive. The fact that the Gibbori
m had not returned was a good sign. At the least, it meant that Noah was still alive because they had not caught him. Or, by the grace of Elohim, could he have killed them? She wanted to figure out some way to let him know she was alive, but she felt it could distract him from his own survival. That was more important to her right now.

  She had always believed he was the Chosen Seed, but she was also a dutiful wife and would give her true opinion only when consulted. Her biggest influence in persuading Noah was in prayer. When Noah was blinded by his own stubbornness, she would ask Elohim to soften his heart. Elohim had a way of opening Noah’s eyes better than anyone else could. She did not believe that Elohim had abandoned them. She was sure he was planning something very significant to make his point. It would take something big to transform Noah to accomplish his calling. Elohim was like that. Meanwhile, she would focus on making the best of her own situation for the glory of her God.

  One day, Emzara asked Alittum how long it would take for guards to seek out a missing palace or temple slave. She couched it in the context of doing bookkeeping of staff numbers, but Alittum knew in that moment that Nindannum planned to help runaway slaves.

  Alittum marveled at this in her thoughts. So that was her intention! Help disgruntled slaves who sought their freedom to escape. It was shamefully egalitarian of Nindannum and proved her lack of royal blood and culture. What fool would risk her life to die in the howling desert, when the kingdom would care for their every need? The gods required minimal devotion, and for what higher purpose would the peasants live in the wild? Themselves? Alittum found it laughable. Uncivilized folk needed to be molded and shaped by the noble class to know their station in life, otherwise they degenerate into this kind of decadent thinking. Alittum now had the opportunity that none of her useless spells and enchantments against Nindannum seemed to be able to achieve. Or was this the actual fruit of her magic?

  Alittum encouraged Emzara in her fondness toward slaves. One day, Alittum “let out” the secret that she sometimes wished she could help slaves to freedom. Emzara took the bait and they quickly established an underground pathway to freedom. Emzara now trusted Alittum. But Alittum knew that she had to seal Emzara’s confidence by volunteering to be the first to deliver slaves through their new arrangement.

  Emzara and Alittum carefully chose their first two beneficiaries. One, a male slave in the palace named Daduri had been beaten mercilessly for incompetence. He had lost an eye and was in the infirmary, but had healed sufficiently to travel. The other was a twelve year old female named Humusi, recently captured and appointed to be a temple prostitute. She was so defiant that the priestesses left her alone, until she could have a session with Inanna that would set her straight. What Inanna did in those disciplinary sessions Alittum did not know, but the rumors were ugly.

  On the planned day of escape, Lugalanu noticed that Alittum and Emzara were acting skittish. He wondered if they were hiding animosity toward each other. Overwhelmed with royal edicts and law court rulings, he lost his temper with Alittum over a petty administrative detail. He grounded her to her chambers. He would visit her later and make love to her. It was his way of affirming her while chastising her. Maybe he would even cut her and drink some of her blood, his ritual of identity with Anu. Of course he would envision Emzara in her place, but that would be of no consequence to Alittum. She was so needy and desperate for his love, that anything he gave her would be consumed like a crumb of food by a starving woman.

  He pitied Alittum. She had no soul left to give any man, least of all him. But she was a good head maidservant, and she did satisfy his more debased fantasies involving idols, animals, or excrement. Those practices usually destroyed other women, so he decided not to replace her as Chief Maidservant with Emzara just yet.

  The two women prepared their scheme. Alittum decided she would follow through with their plans, because Lugalanu was so caught up with his business that he would not even consider talking to Alittum for another day. He would probably forget that he even sent her to her chambers. In fact, this would make her more able to disappear through the passageways. She would not be missed if she was serving out her punishment.

  The women did not anticipate Lugalanu’s sexual appetite.

  While Emzara administered the household services, Lugalanu snuck into Alittum’s chambers. Her chambermaid was alone in the room. Although the girl did not know exactly where Alittum was, a thorough beating released enough information for Lugalanu to realize something was deeply amiss.

  Alittum had prepared Daduri and Hamusi with some foodstuffs and tools for their trek out in the wilderness, once they were outside the city limits. They had taken one of the tunnel routes that led to just outside the palace walls, but they had gotten lost. Once they found their way again, Alittum kissed them and bid them good luck. She wondered how she could ever actually believe in this kind of ludicrous rebellion. Nindannum must have been possessed by evil spirits to think this was goodness. Alittum considered consulting an exorcist when she returned.

  She returned from her secret passage into her chamber A fuming Lugalanu greeted her. A beaten Daduri and Hamusi lay at his feet in shackles.

  “Alittum, how could you?” said Lugalanu. “What evil spirit has possessed you to do such a thing?”

  The irony struck Alittum, making her flounder in her response. “My lord, I can explain. This is not what it appears to be.”

  “You are not what you have appeared to be,” he spit out. “Is this what you have secretly pursued all these years? After all I have given you; my body, my soul, my trust, this is how you return my graces?”

  “My lord,” she cried. She wanted to tell him all about her plan, all about Nindannum and how this was just an act to expose Nindannum for what she was. It was too late.

  He pulled out his dagger. He was up close to her. He covered her mouth with his left hand, and slid his dagger in below her sternum and up into her heart.

  She dropped to the floor, sputtering in pain, and angrier at her own stupidity than with anything he had done to her all those years.

  It is just as well, she thought. I deserved it anyway.

  She slipped into oblivion.

  Lugalanu found Emzara working on the dinner meal for the temple staff. He walked up to her with lifeless eyes. “Alittum is gone. After you birth your child, you shall be Chief Maidservant.” Emzara saw his blood soaked shirt and stood in shock as Lugalanu walked away.

  Chapter 14

  Mount Hermon was located in the northwest of the Fertile Crescent at the end of the Sirion mountain range. It was the area of Bashan, the “Place of the Serpent,” near the Jordan River. It was the cosmic mountain where the Sons of God, the Watchers, came down from heaven. On its southernmost base lay the mountain community of Kur, dedicated to Ereshkigal, goddess of the underworld. Her temple, a ziggurat platform, was embedded into the slope of the mountain, with little more than the front face visible to the public. The mighty giant kings, the Rephaim, had built the temple and city, leaving it an oversized architectural wonder that dwarfed the inhabitants and worshippers.

  It was evening and torches lit the temple for a display of glowing splendor in the midst of a pitch-black night. Priests blew long horns from within secret openings on the ziggurat to summon the people of the region for sacrifice. An unmistakable, deep reverberation penetrated to the very core of the soul and drew the people from leagues around. They came from all the outlying areas of Bashan to participate in the sacrifice. Entire extended families of multiple generations, carrying their torches, created a river of fires pouring into the temple complex. They camped in the nearby fields and gathered around the base of the temple for the liturgy.

  Noah and Uriel could remain anonymous in the masses of this large congregation. Noah had allotted the passage of two moons for the six of his company to eventually convene at this location. Because the Gibborim had all gone after Noah and Uriel, that pair had been delayed. It was already the third new moon. They looked for their comrades
in the teeming throng, but they were nowhere to be found. Noah wondered if the men had made it, or if they had given up, or if they had been captured by the gods of the city to be flayed alive for treason. The look of this bestial mob did not bode well for any positive option.

  They tied up their camels inside the edge of the forest line near the temple, for their getaway.

  They looked up at the sole stairway of brick that rose seventy cubits upward to the top temple chamber. On the chamber ledge sat a huge bronze statue of a seated Ereshkigal with her arms open to receive sacrifice. It loomed over a large fire pit called the tophet or “burning place.”

  They could see the ridge just below the altar, lined with a hundred parents and infants in their arms. They could also see the parents scratching the names of their children on the stone walls, to join the thousands that had accumulated over the years.

  Uriel leaned in and whispered to Noah, “Inside the mountain temple is the entrance to the Seven Gates of Ganzir, the Gateway to Sheol.”

  The long horns blew again, summoning a line of hairless shaven priests with small cylindrical drums just below the line of parents and children. They pounded the drums in unison creating the sound of an amplified beat that signaled the dance.

  The crowd below began to sway to the beat at first, and then slowly broke down into individual dancing, which further degenerated into erotic jerking spasms and snakelike body waves. It was as if their bodies had been taken over by another force.

  It disgusted Noah.

  Uriel reminded Noah to keep his look toward the temple mount. Otherwise they would be noticed. Noah found it difficult. He was as repulsed by the debauchery of the masses as he was by the depravity of their elite leaders. Noah and Uriel wore cloaks to cover their weapons and maintain anonymity, but glowering with a sour frown on one’s face surely drew attention to them.