by Brian Godawa
On the temple mount, two priestesses with elongated skulls, exotic ornamented robes, and fully tattooed bodies approached the line of parents and children. In most cases, it was only one parent, a mother or father holding their infant, with an occasional pre-teen next to them. They were led up the small stairway to the temple mount.
A figure came out of the shadows of the temple columns completely covered in a hooded robe. The figure stood on the ledge in full sight of the people. Two priestesses stood beside it and pulled off the cloak to reveal the high priestess. The crowd cheered. Unlike the other priests and priestesses, she maintained long, flowing hair with an ornate headdress indicating royalty. She wore no clothes, but covered her fully tattooed body with jewels, necklaces, bracelets, rings and piercings.
The high priestess walked over to the fire pit. High, hot flames leapt out of it, licking the night air. The priestesses led the line of worshippers to the high priestess.
The first woman held her infant and began to cry. She reluctantly placed the infant, not two years old, into the hands of the two priestesses. They gave the crying child to the high priestess. She turned to the flames and held the baby high over her head. The crowd below went silent.
Noah shivered. It was eerie. The priestess controlled their very souls.
Her booming voice echoed down the steps of the ziggurat. The acoustics magnified the sounds with a supernatural vitality.
“Ereshkigal, mighty goddess of the underworld, we call you forth!”
The crowd responded with chanting, “Ereshkigal! Ereshkigal! Ereshkigal!”
Noah’s eyes stayed locked on the infant held high above the flames. The chanting made him sick to his stomach. A tide of hatred rose within him. He could not let this happen. He grabbed the hilt of his sword.
Uriel stopped him. “We cannot stop this, Noah. Remember, these people are not forced. This idolatry is freely chosen.”
He was right, of course. Mankind chose this. They chose to worship these gods and violate the natural order, the natural separation of things, the separation of heaven and earth. Ever since the murder of Abel by his brother Cain, the heart of man grew more and more desperately wicked and their sins grew more unspeakable. Noah’s tribe was among the few groups of true humanity that did not imbibe in such monstrosities.
Noah released his sword hilt.
He noticed a little girl, not yet seven years old, watching him with curiosity. She started at him with large eyes, while holding her father’s hand. The father and mother stared enthralled at the altar above them.
The crowd continued the possessed chanting. “Ereshkigal! Ereshkigal! Ereshkigal!”
The surrendered infant cried, but its tiny voice was drowned out by the bloodthirsty mob. Noah dreaded what was going to happen next: abominable sacrifice. He closed his eyes tight. He could not bear to watch the priestess cast the infant into the flames of the tophet. The roar of the mob swelled around him. He opened his tear-filled eyes, trying with all his might not to weep.
The line of parents began handing their offspring over one by one for the slaughter of the innocents. As the people below grew disinterested with the repetition, they became more focused on themselves, and their dancing soon turned into sporadic spontaneous orgies of sexual perversity.
The little girl caught Noah’s eye again. She stared at him as if she knew he did not belong here. He knew that she could see his eyes were not dry.
She smiled. He smiled back, but he could not hold it for long. He knew that one day it might be her fate to be led up those stairs. This little child with all her life before her, all her hopes and dreams, would be snuffed out, her innocent life burned from her body.
The drone of the long horns signaled the next sequence of events. Everyone’s attention returned to the high platform. A young pre-teen girl had been brought to the high priestess by two deformed dwarves and placed on the hands of the large bronze statue. She was laid down and held in place at her head and feet by the two misshapen creatures.
Uriel leaned in again toward Noah and whispered, “It comes.”
Seconds after he spoke, a loud bellowing sound came from the fiery pit. A flock of bats scattered into the sky.
Out of the flames rose a Watcher, a Shining One like Anu, but with leathery reptilian wings. It burst out of the pit and into the sky like a creature bursting out of water for air. It wore the horned headdress of deity on its elongated head, and like Inanna was androgynous in appearance, though female in dress.
Uriel confided to Noah, “Ereshkigal, our target.”
The multitude around them grew delirious with worship. Ereshkigal landed on the ground and hissed at the people below. They responded with cheers. Her wings spread out in glory as she stood over the virgin child with coldblooded focus. She bared her fangs and plunged them into the neck of the child to feast on her innocent blood.
Again the mob erupted with approval. Again, the long horns wailed.
Noah did not notice that the father had let go of the hand of the little girl watching him. The father and mother had become engrossed in worship. The girl drifted away from them toward Noah and Uriel.
But it was too late for her to find them.
Noah and Uriel made a hasty retreat. Their plan had been to corner Ereshkigal with distraction so Uriel could get close enough to bind the subterranean goddess. But none of their men were here. They might not get another chance like this for some time, because the goddess did not crawl out of her pit but once every new moon.
A figure stepped into their path and blocked them. Noah and Uriel poised to draw swords.
It was Methuselah, and he was angry.
“Your choice of location for hiding your camels was juvenile and pathetic. You might as well trumpet your presence to the goddess.” Noah and Uriel glanced at each other like rebuked children. Methuselah finished, “And you are very late. The men are over there now.”
Noah and Uriel followed the disgruntled Methuselah back to their secreted camels in the bush.
They were greeted first by Tubal-cain. “It is good to see you alive, cousin. We wondered if the Gibborim had followed you, since we never saw them on our trail.”
They embraced. “It is a long story,” Noah said.
Uriel smiled at the irony. They were stronger together than apart, and he would never let them separate again.
Uriel cut short their celebration, “It is only a matter of time before the Gibborim find us.”
Methuselah chimed in, “The sooner we bind this abomination in the depths of the earth, the better.”
“But how do we do it?” asked Tubal-cain.
“That has just become complicated,” said Noah. He explained the plan he and Uriel had prepared, the need to catch the goddess unawares during sacrifice. They would have a long wait until the next moon, but there was nothing else they could do. She would not come out for another month. They certainly could not storm her gates with their paltry six-man hit squad.
Jubal and Jabal, ever the positive duo, spoke up. Jubal said, “But that will give us more time to plan and consider all possibilities.” Jabal jumped in without hesitation, “Will we not need more time to find a crevice to cast her into the earth?”
“Yes,” said Methuselah, ever the pessimist. “We may need more time than we have. It is easier said than accomplished.”
“No,” interrupted Noah, “we cast her into Sheol.”
The men looked at Noah with surprise.
“She guards the gates of the Abyss to Sheol,” said Noah. “Let us kick her into that crevice and let it keep her.”
The men looked at each other, perplexed. They wondered if there was a single one of them that would support that death march.
Uriel did not calm their fears. “We must be careful not to follow her in,” he said, “The dead who descend never return.”
“What of the living?” asked Tubal-cain.
Uriel sighed. His hesitation only made matters worse. “The shades of the dead would eat
the living,” he answered, punctuating their doom, “eternally.”
A pall fell over the group.
“Well,” countered Methuselah with dripping sarcasm, “if that is not just the future I have sought for all these years, I do not know what is. Being eaten alive forever and ever.”
Jubal and Jabal gulped. Tubal-cain stared off into oblivion.
Noah would have none of it. All he wanted was revenge. He had lost everything and had nothing more to lose, except the one thing that held barely by a thread in his heart: faith. He spoke with the confidence of an archangel, “Well, then, let us avoid Sheol—and go trap ourselves a god. At least we have plenty of time to prepare.”
The men gathered their courage together.
The little girl Noah had seen in the crowd surprised them. She had wandered away from her parents and had followed Noah into the bush. She stood staring at them, as surprised as they were. She glanced fearfully behind her to see if she had been followed. She had not been.
Tubal-cain started to pull his sword by impulse.
Noah stopped him. “I know this little one,” Noah said.
“She looks afraid,” said Methuselah.
“Poor innocent child,” said Noah. He realized he now had a bigger dilemma than when they had arrived. They could not leave this waif alone to die at the hands of her parents and their murderous idolatry. She was not a faceless part of the indiscriminate masses to him. She was an individual child with a soul, who apparently knew her destiny and was silently crying out for his help. But they could not take her with them. They were on a deadly journey. She would slow them down and become a liability to their higher purpose. It would take at least one man to watch over her, and that was one less warrior in the heat of combat with the minions of hell.
Noah was about to deliberate with his men, when his decision was made for him.
The child screamed at the top of her lungs, “EVIL MEN! EVIL MEN!” and ran back out into the crowd.
Noah’s team scrambled.
A dozen men from the crowd ran past the girl toward where she pointed. She continued to scream, “OVER THERE! EVIL MEN! EVIL MEN!”
The first of the rushing worshippers broke through into the trees. They were taken out with a volley of arrows from Noah’s band.
“What do we do now?” yelled Tubal-cain. There would be others right behind them in seconds.
“Change of plans,” said Noah. “On your camels! Follow me!”
In a flash, Noah was upon his mount. The others followed suit. Noah burst through the brush directly out into the enemy’s midst, surprising them. His men followed him like a pride of lions on the hunt.
The worshippers did not know what was happening. The crowd parted in fear as the men raced headlong into the masses. The people just wanted to get out of the way of a stampede of dromedaries trampling everyone in their path.
Noah led the stampede through the thinning crowd right up to the temple steps.
The long stairway to the heavens rose upward seventy cubits of stone. His men now knew what he planned. There was no time to consult. They followed him dutifully. By the time anyone in the crowd understood that these riders were hostile, Noah’s raiding party was almost to the top of the ziggurat.
Below them, men yelled for arms and began climbing the long flight of stairs upward.
At the top of the temple mount, the humans scattered. The priests cowered.
Ereshkigal was already gone, disappeared back into the fire pit.
Methuselah yelled above the growing din, “I thought we were supposed to be secret about this!”
“Dismount!” yelled Noah, and the men obeyed. Noah walked up to the pit of flames and peered in, Uriel by his side.
“What is he doing?” Tubal-cain asked.
Methuselah replied, “The same thing he has done all his life, since he was a boy, rushing in before the angels!”
Methuselah looked back down the steps. The sight reminded him of a swarm of angry fire ants streaming up the stairway, almost upon them.
The men gathered around Noah.
Noah looked to Uriel. “Is this the entrance to Sheol?” he asked.
“No,” said Uriel, “ to Ereshkigal’s lair. Sheol is deeper.”
“Good. That buys us time,” said Noah, and he jumped.
Methuselah turned just in time to see Noah disappear into the flames. “NOAH!” he screamed, too late.
Uriel followed Noah. Unthinking, Methuselah followed Uriel.
The first of the mad mob reached the top and were upon them. Tubal-cain plowed down the first few attackers. Jubal and Jabal did not think it through. They ran and leaped into the flames, disappearing from view. Tubal-cain fought on all alone, with a growing swarm of angry idolaters circling him, pressing in, the flames at his back. Tubal-cain muttered a prayer, “Elohim, I trust in you. Noah, I am not so sure of, but please have mercy on my ignorance.”
Tubal-cain turned, and bolted for the open pit. He leapt into the fire, closing his eyes. He passed through the wall of flames, only an instant of sheering heat. The next moment, he struck a floor and rolled to break his fall. He took stock for a moment to make sure he was still alive, could still feel pain. He rubbed his knee, bruised from the fall. He was alive with pain. He looked up into the eyes of Methuselah, who stood smiling down on him.
Methuselah mocked, “Nice of you to join us, hippopotamus. I was not sure you could make the jump.”
Tubal-cain looked around. They were on a large outer ledge that encircled the flames rising in the center of the pit. The fire obscured the presence of the ledge from those above. Tubal-cain got up and drew his sword, looking back up through the flames.
“Do not fret yourself, cousin,” said Noah, “They will not follow us into the pit of sacrifice.”
“No, they will not. Who would be so foolish as to do that?” quipped Methuselah.
Tubal-cain grinned at him. “I do believe you peed your tunic, you old grizzled lizard. How is your bladder doing?”
Methuselah looked down, “I did not pee my tunic!” The men chuckled.
“Enough, you lovebirds,” Noah chuckled. “Let us keep moving.” He set the tone for this band of warrior poets, and they followed. He drew his weapon; they drew theirs. They followed him cautiously around the ledge to an entranceway on the other side of the flames.
The carved stone ledge gave way to a long portico of marble floors lined with pillars on both sides, twenty cubits wide and a hundred cubits long. Torches lit the way to the end, where a set of large wooden gates inlaid with brass bid them stay away. So they moved forward.
They inched cautiously toward the gates.
Noah whispered to Uriel, “Is this the first of the Seven Gates of Ganzir?”
Uriel didn’t reply, all his senses honed on surveying their environment.
When they had covered half the distance, they heard a distinct rattling sound, then soft scraping of claws on a marble floor. They stopped. Something hid behind the pillars. Some things. All around them.
“Draw together,” Noah commanded. They did so, blades out, ready for anything.
The shadows moved from behind the pillars on both sides of them. Strange creatures stepped out into sight, but they did not attack. The men could now see their stalkers. They were scorpion-men. Monstrosities with the upper torsos of human soldiers, and the lower bodies of man-sized scorpions, they were armed with bladed weapons and ready tail stingers.
Noah and his men were surrounded. Their hands tightened on their weapons, glancing around, waiting for the first move.
The scorpion-men did not attack. They were waiting.
Noah thought to himself, What more abominable creatures could these Watchers create? What kind of sorcery enabled them to produce such demonic crossbred mongrels like these? The bird-men soldiers, the lion-men and bull-men guardians, the Nephilim as well, all were unnatural violations of the created order. What was the plan of these Watchers?
Suddenly, the huge doors at the e
nd of the portico creaked open. Everyone’s attention shot to two large beings about five and a half cubits tall gliding through the doors. It was Ereshkigal. The second Watcher stayed by the door as Ereshkigal strode toward Noah and Uriel. The shining being kept her wings taut behind her back and stood a safe distance behind the scorpion-men.
Noah noticed a look of familiarity cross Uriel’s face. Ereshkigal kept her eyes trained on the archangel; the one she knew had the power to bind her. “Uriel,” she croaked, “I thought I smelled you.”
Uriel responded, “Ramel, I see you have built quite a kingdom for yourself on earth, along with Sariel.” He glanced at the other Watcher by the door. “I take it he goes by the name Nergal?”
In the mythology the Watchers had established, Nergal was the name of Ereshkigal’s husband. He had become her spouse after he had insulted her for not being able to attend a banquet of the gods. Anu sent him down to the underworld to receive punishment from Ereshkigal. Nergal turned the tables on the chthonic queen, overpowering her and raping her on her own throne. This reputation stained Ramel’s pride and he resented it. But he could do nothing about it for the present. It took a few generations to change a myth. He would have to tolerate the mockery of his rape by the other gods. He could not leave this underworld domain because he was bound as the guardian of the gates of Sheol.
Ereshkigal sneered with contempt at the archangel’s condescension. “My earthly kingdom with all its limitations is still more satisfying than the assembly of Elohim. You should have joined us in the rebellion.”
Uriel said, “Unlike you, I have no interest in dressing up as a goddess.”
Ereshkigal belittled him. “You prefer being a slave. Why are you here?”
Noah blurted out, “To bind you into the depths of the earth.” Uriel closed his eyes with embarrassment.
“Indeed?” said Ereshkigal, turning her gaze to Noah standing just behind Uriel. “And who is this presumptuous little one?”
“Noah ben Lamech, son of Enoch, destroyer of gods.”
Uriel rolled his eyes. He wished Noah would just shut up.
Ereshkigal chuckled at Noah’s audacity. An unexpected thought crossed her mind. She turned back to Uriel. “I have word that Semjaza and Azazel seek Elohim’s Chosen Seed. Is this your doing, Uriel?” Her eyes kept trained on Uriel, ignoring Noah.
