Noah: Man of God

by Tim Chaffey

  The determined look of a man who had spent his life advancing his career through any means necessary gave way to wide, fear-stricken eyes. “We’ve never had the need. What will we do? Can we win?”

  A smirk crossed her lips. “Have no fear, Councilman.” She emphasized his title to remind him that he was beneath her. “Our king, my father, has never lost a battle.”

  Gathering himself, he let out a breath. “Thank you. I must hurry.” Ashur scurried across the floor and picked up two large trays of food with the practiced ease of a former innkeeper.

  While everyone busied themselves with the change of location, Naamah discretely withdrew the small vial from her hidden pocket, removed the cover, and slipped it under the wrist end of her bracer. Holding her hand up so that the powder would not spill out, she pretended to study the metal armband as she marched to her father’s place setting. She leaned forward over his cup only to freeze upon hearing Ashur’s voice.

  “Don’t do that,” he said.

  Momentarily seized by fear that her scheme had been uncovered, she recovered herself, then straightened her shoulders and glared at the councilman. He shrank back and nearly dropped a tray. “I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t intend to issue an order to you.” He took a breath and gave her a half smile. “I only meant that you don’t need to carry any of this. My servants and I will handle it.”

  She nodded. I should’ve known the fool was too blind to know what I’m doing. “Thank you, Ashur. I was only reaching for this fruit to take to my room while I wait for everyone to assemble.”

  “My apologies. Help yourself.” He steadied the platters and headed for the door.

  Naamah leaned forward again and grabbed a ripe green malid. Glancing around the room, she pulled back and carefully passed her wrist over her father’s cup, the most ornate one on the table, and allowed the vial’s powder to fall into the intoxicating beverage. After replacing the cap on the poison, she bit into the crispy fruit and grinned. Father, today your pride will serve me well. She cupped the malid with both hands. You’ll soon be avenged, Tu.

  Holding her head high, she exited the room and returned to her private chambers, where she closed the door behind her and placed the tiny container back into her hidden pocket. Allowing a slight chuckle to escape her mouth, she whispered, “Goodbye, Father.”

  * * *

  A short, stout soldier pointed away from the part of the model representing the city’s main gate. “Do you think the Nodites will attack from the sea too?”

  The king set down his cup and wiped his mouth. “They might. But we’ll be ready for them. If Tsek ever gets here, that is. Where is he?”

  “He’s here, sir,” called a guard who stood near the door. He stepped aside as the mountainous commander hustled past him.

  Tsek stopped a few paces before Lamech and bowed his head. “My king, the messenger told me about the Nodites. What’s your plan?”

  “Send our fastest ship to the islands.” Placing a hand over his mouth, Lamech stifled a cough. “Get the reinforcements here immediately. No time to spare.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tsek spun and lumbered out of the room.

  “What defenses do you have in the eastern city?” Lamech asked a middle-aged officer from Iri Geshem.

  “We have sentries at each watchtower along the wall and two battalions at the ready. But even if the Nodites breached the eastern barrier, there’s only one bridge to the main city. Our concern has always been to protect this side.”

  “A wise decision,” the king said.

  As Lamech and the war council worked out the details, Naamah listened closely while gazing about the space. The city planning hall gleamed with white stone walls stretching high above to a ceiling that continued to climb upward to a central peak. Six metallic concentric rings dropped from the middle, each successive circular piece hung about two cubits lower than the one above it, and all flickered brightly with dozens of burning wicks. Naamah guessed that oil flowed through the middle tube and the armatures that held up the rings to provide a steady fuel supply. She envisioned reworking the piece as one large coiled serpent.

  Beneath the grand chandelier, an extravagant scale model of Iri Geshem sat on a dais encircled by over a dozen men who excitedly pointed at various sections of the city as they deliberated. Her half-brother Jubal sat among them but never spoke. His musical abilities were unmatched in the world, but he had little aptitude for leading men into battle. Nivlac occasionally participated in the discussion, although he was better suited to serve as chief of security than war strategist. Still, despite his shortcomings in this setting, she valued having a loyal servant in the king’s inner circle.

  A hint of a knowing smile crossed Naamah’s face as her father coughed again and took another swig. Beads of sweat appeared on his reddened forehead. As she turned away to hide her delight, a twinge of regret threatened to overshadow the satisfaction. Memories of a few enjoyable times with her father flashed into her mind, but she quickly dismissed them with thoughts of her imminent ascension to the throne. Focusing again on the conversation around the miniature replica of the city, she forced herself to consider how she would take charge when the poison finished its mischief.

  “So our main objective is to delay the Nodites’ attack until our reinforcements arrive.” Lamech reached for his stomach and grabbed the edge of the model with the other hand.

  Nivlac lunged to assist him. “Are you alright, sir?”

  The war council fell silent as the king dropped to his knees and retched repeatedly. He reached for his throat and gasped for air. “Help me.” His weakened voice barely exceeded a whisper.

  “Father!” Naamah knelt next to him and placed her hand on his back. “Call a healer!”

  Jubal stood and echoed her command before joining Naamah at their father’s side, carefully stepping around the vomit. Other councilmembers stood at a distance, watching the king with great concern. Ashur sprinted out of the door, yelling for a healer to hurry.

  Groaning, Lamech attempted to stand, but he lost his balance and tumbled forward. Despite Naamah’s best effort to catch him, he spun as he slipped from her grasp and fell into the foul mess on the floor. Eyes wide open, he stared at Naamah. “Help.” The breathless word barely escaped his throat as the muscles in his neck constricted.

  “Help me sit him up so he can breathe,” Naamah said to Jubal.

  Jubal bent down to help her, but the stench caused him to turn away and cover his nose. He gestured to Nivlac to take his place.

  Nivlac knelt and slid his arms under the king’s shoulders as Lamech struggled for air. The guard’s eyes met Naamah’s for an instant, but in that briefest of moments, they told her he was aware of the situation. “I’ve got him, Princess.” He lifted the king to a sitting position and dragged him to a clean area of the floor.

  Having witnessed the effects of this particular poison on victims many times before, Naamah knew what to expect. Typically, the poor soul would suffocate in moments. She glanced at her father’s cup. Her heart sank when she saw that it was still over half full. Had he consumed enough poison to kill him? Staring at the drink, she knew what she needed to do next. She pointed to the cup. “Nobody touches that. I think he’s been poisoned.” She stood tall, but before she could say anything more, Ashur rushed into the room followed by a short, gray-bearded man carrying a large bag. Ashur directed him to the king as Nivlac and others made the pathway clear. Ashur caught Naamah’s attention. “This is the master healer.”

  Naamah stepped in front of the short man. “This is your king. Save his life or you will lose your own. Understand?”

  “Please.” The man peered around her to see his patient. “I’ll do what I can, and you should probably call on Nachash for his intervention.”

  “Of course.” She moved aside, caring little to ask for the deity’s help in this matter. “Hurry.”

  The little man stooped beside the king, who writhed on the ground still red-faced and fighting for each breath.
“Sir, if you can understand me, please open your mouth.”

  Lamech moaned in agony before his whole body went limp and his eyes shut.

  Naamah strove to suppress her anticipation of her father’s final breath.

  The healer glanced at Nivlac. “He must open his mouth or I can’t help him.”

  Nivlac looked for Naamah’s approval, and she nodded in return. He placed two fingers from each hand into the king’s mouth and pried it open.

  After a brief examination, the little man dug into his bag and pulled out two small, covered clay jars. “Don’t let him close his mouth.” He opened the first vessel and withdrew a pinch of fine black powder and placed it on the back of Lamech’s swollen tongue. “Give him a sip of water and make sure he swallows that.”

  “Here.” A Havilite commander lowered a cup to the king’s lips and poured a bit of its contents into his mouth.

  Nivlac closed the limp ruler’s mouth and tipped his head back.

  Lamech gagged, and a few spurts of water escaped his lips despite Nivlac’s efforts to prevent it.

  The healer opened the second jar and hastily smashed the tiny green leaves in it with a pestle. Satisfied with his progress, he gestured for Nivlac to repeat the process.

  Shortly after the administration of the second dose, Lamech’s body contorted and then suddenly stiffened. The king remained motionless.

  Naamah’s silent hopes were dashed yet again when her father’s chest slowly rose and fell.

  “He’ll need to rest,” the healer said. “I think he’s going to live.” He turned to Naamah. “Princess, I believe someone has poisoned your father. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay with him until he wakes. He may yet need some more treatment.”

  “Of course. Thank you for saving his life. You’ll surely be rewarded.” She took a deep breath and imagined dumping the poison right into the healer’s mouth as his reward. “Ashur, have two of your men take the king to his room with the healer. I want them to stay there until further notice.”

  “Yes, Princess.” Ashur called the guards near the door and relayed Naamah’s instructions.

  The two men lifted the king up and carried him out of the room. The healer followed closely behind them.

  “What are we going to do now?” Ashur asked.

  Jubal cleared his throat and stepped forward with his chin held high. “I will lead us in my father’s absence.”

  Naamah fixed an icy stare on him. “You will do no such thing, little brother. Go back to your music and parties and leave the war to those of us who are qualified to discuss such matters.”

  Jubal looked around the room for support, but no one dared to challenge Naamah. He shrank back and sat down.

  “No one else leaves this room without my permission.” Naamah picked up the king’s cup. “We need to find out if this was poisoned, but first—” She snapped her fingers. “Nivlac!”

  Just as overeager to please her as he had always been, Nivlac hustled to her side and stood at attention.

  “Go fetch Commander Tsek. Make sure that ship is sent to the islands, just like my father wanted, but in light of the circumstances, we need Tsek here to help us plan the battle.”

  “Yes, Princess.” Nivlac turned and headed toward the door.

  “We have no time to delay.” Naamah directed the remaining members of the war council to return to their positions around the city model. She scanned the faces of each man to ensure their full attention. “We have a lot going against us at the moment. The Nodites are at our door, and from what we’ve just seen, someone in our midst does not wish my father to be the king. This is no time for fear or division.” Her voice rang out in confidence, and the expressions in the room revealed a general willingness to follow her. “We must go forward in honor of the king. We will see to it that in this darkest time, with foes all around, we shall not be overcome.”

  Ashur beat a fist against his chest. “So be it. Princess Naamah, the one who will lead us to victory!”

  She feigned humility, smiling softly and shaking her head while exulting on the inside.

  “Hail, Naamah.” The man to her right, a respected guard from Iri Geshem, bowed his head toward her.

  The rest of the council followed his lead, and she longed to savor their praise, but an attack was imminent and required everyone’s full attention. She held up her hand, and they quieted. “As the king said before, our main objective is to delay the advancing troops until our reinforcements arrive. The Nodites will undoubtedly approach the main gate, so we’ll need most of our forces there to give the illusion of a vast army. That will give them pause and buy us time.” She held her arms out to the side. “Ashur!”

  He straightened and then bowed low. “Yes, Princess.”

  “You’re a leader of Iri Geshem. You’ll lead the investigation into who tried to topple our great city from within by poisoning the king. The rest of us will defeat the Nodites. Victory will be ours!”

  Chapter 3

  Iri Dekkel — Noah’s 499th year

  Emzara stared blankly at the wall opposite where she sat on a large woven mat. The golden hue of the evening sun cast shadows from the surrounding foliage onto the sand-colored canvas of the tent. Sighing, she played with the band tied around her upper left arm. The carved medallion carried the same rainbow design as the wooden one Noah had tied on her when he had asked her to marry him. How long before you get here, my husband?

  At Garun’s insistence, they had moved across the wide river from Iri Dekkel for protection in case some of the people who decimated the city returned. Lamech’s former guard had silently taken in the surroundings and selected a small clearing in the undergrowth. Using ropes and wooden pegs from the ship’s supplies, he created a framework to support the large piece of fabric. Now Emzara and her still-unconscious charge rested under the tent while Garun busied himself with the finishing touches.

  Small breaks in the trees allowed them to watch the river without being seen from the opposite shore. The surrounding forest also served to block much of the cool wind that had picked up earlier in the evening. Thankfully, Garun’s shelter intercepted any stray drafts that occasionally made their way into the clearing. Biting a nail, she glanced at the severely injured man lying on elevated bedding about three cubits from her. A large purple-and-black bruise on the side of his chest stood out like a gold pikka among a pile of silver piks. Dried blood coated parts of the fabric under a pair of wooden braces holding his lower leg in place. Although hidden by a cloth at the moment, thoughts of the large gash and bump on his head made her wince.

  Grateful that he remained asleep after he stirred slightly, Emzara sighed. Everything in my life is about waiting right now. I don’t know if I can take much more of just sitting here until the next thing happens. A beautiful pattern from the shadows of the leaves danced all about her. Fluttering, they crossed and then moved apart from one another in the breeze. I wonder if this is how the Most High views our lives: events slowly unfolding as we run about interacting with each other. The wind ceased and the leaves stood still. She stared at the silhouette of a lone leaf. And then we’re alone while we wait for more movement. But I’m never really alone, because the Most High sees me.

  O Creator, waiting is hard when you think you have the answer but you have yet to see proof. You chose Noah to build Your ark, so I know he will be safe, but I would be happier if I could see him, hold him. My view of life is obscured, just like I only see the shadows from within this tent, but You see all the detail and colors of the leaves as if from the outside. And You know just how it will all unfold.

  Feeling movement inside of her, she looked down and the corner of her mouth rose. Emzara placed both hands on her belly. I guess not all waiting is bad.

  “One more thing.” Garun stood at the opening of the tent. He held up a thick, dark cloth. “I just need to attach this to the top so that you have a little privacy curtain. I’ll hang a second one on the other side for me and Laleel. That way we can still hear
if he makes a noise.”

  “Do you need me to get up?” She put weight on her hand and moved her feet out, readying herself.

  With shoulders hunched and knees bent, Garun began attaching the fabric to the apex of her dwelling. “Thanks. I’ve got it.” He carefully stepped by the back of the tent, making sure not to disturb the bedding near Purlek’s head, and continued his work. “There, that should do it. You’re sure you don’t mind looking after him tonight?”

  “Of course not. He’s like my son; I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Garun looked as if he were going to respond, but with his stooped posture and the tilted angle of his head as he avoided the top of the tent, his focus quickly returned to his task.

  Em suppressed a laugh. “Thanks for doing all of this.” She gestured to their temporary lodging.

  He dropped his head even lower. “Well, I have much more to do.” He stepped out from under the flap, straightened up, and stood tall. Arms crossed, he sternly glanced around. Emzara guessed that he was imagining their camp from the vantage point of any potential enemies. But as each chore merged into the next, she wondered if something else was behind his busyness.

  After a short jaunt into the woods, Garun returned with his arms laden with branches. He placed the wood beside the campfire, sat next to Laleel, and the two talked in hushed voices while she stirred a clay pot resting above the coals. Laleel frowned and looked over at the tent quickly before turning her attention back to the meal.

  Emzara shook her head to clear her thoughts and knelt beside Purlek. Slowly she removed part of the stiffened bandage on his head, taking care not to reopen the wounds. She poured some water into the shallow dish and gently cleaned away some of the dried blood. Sensing a flicker out of the corner of her eye, she looked at his closed eyelids. Had they moved? She focused on his face but saw no change.

  “I brought you some dinner.” Laleel’s voice was soft as she made her way inside the tent. “It’s a light broth in case he’s able to have some. Any signs of waking?”