by Tim Chaffey
Bemused, the king shook his head. “See? Your god can do nothing.”
She stared steely-eyed at the sacrificial dagger that she had used so many times before. She stiffened, preparing to feel the cold blade thrust into her midsection. As her whole body shook, she rapidly recited the dark incantation again.
“I’m sorry, Daughter, but there is no god who can save you now.” He adjusted his grip on the cruel knife and looked out at the crowd. “I am the most high god!”
Naamah continued chanting as she watched a drop of blood fall from the tip of the blade. It landed on the king’s crown, directly on the head of the molded serpent woven around the headpiece. Suddenly, the golden creature turned reddish-green and appeared to move. Am I dreaming? Did I die? She blinked hard and watched her father rear back as he prepared to drive the knife into her. The serpent on the crown sprang into action. With the back half of its body intertwined in the crown, its front half slithered down the side of the king’s face and plunged its fangs into his neck just as he started to drive the knife downward.
The king shrieked and dropped the dagger as he reached for his neck.
Screams rang out from the crowd as Lamech stumbled. The nearby soldiers jumped back and held their swords toward the small serpent clinging to the king.
Lamech reeled to the side and grabbed his attacker. He tore it away from his neck, ripping flesh away while simultaneously yanking the crown from his head. Staring in horror at the little beast in his hand, he grabbed the arm of the soldier holding Naamah down. “Call the healer!” Lamech whipped the crown and the attached serpent against the base of the altar and staggered toward his throne.
The guard released Naamah’s shoulders and sprinted to the top of the stairway, screaming for a healer.
Naamah lay still and silent, unable to fully believe what she had just witnessed. Slowly, she sat up and scanned her surroundings. Soldiers eyed her warily, and the crowd stood in collective shock. She pointed at her feet. “Nachash has made his decision. Untie me at once.”
The soldiers remained still except for Commander Tsek, who pulled away from his stupefied captors. He strode confidently toward Naamah while closely watching the crown near the foot of the altar. He untied her restraints and helped her down from the altar.
Lamech stumbled and fell on his face a few cubits short of his throne. Thrashing wildly about, with blood oozing from his wound, he screamed for the healer and cursed Naamah and Nachash.
“Stop.” One of the soldiers pointed his spear at Naamah. His hands shook as he nervously glanced at his fellow guards for support. “The king gave orders.”
Her legs weak from the brush with death, Naamah smirked and carefully bent down to pick up the crown. She stroked the serpent before holding the golden prize out toward the guard. “Do you really want to try to stop me?”
The guard withdrew his spear. “No, Princess.” He bowed his head and dropped to a knee.
“It’s Queen of Havil.”
He lowered his head even more. “Forgive me, my queen.”
She narrowed her eyes and studied the serpent as it slid in and out of spaces in the jewel-covered crown.
A spine-chilling cry echoed from the base of the throne. The king gasped for air as he struggled on all fours to reach the chair.
“Tsek, come with me.” Holding her head high, she marched toward the throne.
Lamech stretched his hand up for the armrest but lost his grip and tumbled to the floor as Naamah arrived. He rolled to his back and stared up at her through fear-filled eyes. “Seventy—” A series of short, labored breaths cut off his words. He groaned. “Seven times.”
Naamah loosened the bracer, slid it off her arm, and flung it unceremoniously next to the king. Ignoring his curse of retribution, she stepped over him and ascended the throne. Keeping her gaze on Lamech, she turned dramatically and sat down. “No healer will save you this time.”
Lamech reached for his sword, still in its sheath at his waist, but he quickly pulled his hand back toward the gash in the side of his neck as he gasped for air. A final breath rattled out of his lungs, and his movements stopped. His dead eyes remained fixed on the new ruler of Havil.
Naamah lifted her arms and looked to the sky as relief and exhilaration flooded her body. At last! She longed to gloat over her father’s demise, but first she needed to secure the people’s loyalty. “Nachash has punished the king for profaning his great name. Let this be a lesson to all who doubt the power and wisdom of the Great Serpent and his high priestess, the Queen of Havil.”
She held the crown out for all to see, and the serpent returned to its position before transforming back into gold. Hands trembling from the euphoria coursing through her, Naamah proudly lifted the crown above her head and slowly lowered it onto her scalp. Closing her eyes, she breathed a prayer of thanks to Nachash for his protection.
The guards from the altar hurried to her and bowed with their faces to the ground. “Hail, Queen Naamah,” shouted one of the men, and the others followed suit.
Naamah stood quickly. “Silence.” She snapped her fingers and then pointed at the body of her father. “Get that out of my sight.”
Stepping down from the throne, Naamah strutted toward the front of the stage. “My people, King Lamech cared only for himself and his power. Now he is gone because he refused to acknowledge Nachash as the rightful ruler of Havil. In my first act as queen, I will correct his mistake. We will exalt Nachash as he leads us into a glorious future.”
She spun around and faced the giant serpent statue behind the throne. Slowly, she knelt to the ground, her gaze cocked to watch the crowd below. Pleased that they dropped to their knees as well, she took a deep breath, and with her beautiful voice, she led them in her favorite song of worship.
Chapter 22
Land of Eden — Noah’s 530th year
Almost to the top. Breathing heavily, Noah lowered himself to the ground. He turned and looked through a small gap in the lush forest around him. Descending tree tops corresponded to the slope he had just climbed. The hill appeared smaller than it felt. In the distance, the large clearing that had been transformed into a tiny settlement was barely visible in the broad woodland.
With the sun high in the sky, he pulled out his waterskin and enjoyed a refreshing swig. He leaned back on his hands and let his mind drift back home as his breathing gradually slowed. Much work had been completed in the last 30 years. At just 20 years of age, his youngest son, Ham, had helped Noah design and construct a sawmill powered by a waterwheel. A satisfied smile crossed his lips as an image of the young boy poring over designs came to mind. He’s going to be a great help in building the ark, especially if he’d stop fighting with his brothers.
Japheth already stood a finger-width taller than Noah — a fact he often reminded his father of. Under the guidance of his grandfather, Noah’s oldest son spent most of his time cultivating and harvesting in the fields with Rayneh. Noah tipped his head back and breathed deeply, pleased that his father had the opportunity to work on the crops with his grandson. Of course, Japheth’s aptitude and enjoyment of the work with Lamech meant Noah could focus on something other than farming, which had never been his first love. Growing up together in such a small community essentially forced Japheth and Rayneh to play together throughout their younger years, and now they were virtually inseparable. Shem, on the other hand, did not seem to mind being alone. Born two years after Japheth, he never quite fit in with whatever Japheth and Rayneh were involved in, so he learned to enjoy keeping the bleaters and other livestock. Elam often joined him in the fields. At first, it was to show him how to cut the bleaters’ long coats to make clothes and other materials, but the two quickly established a tight bond.
Purlek also used the waterwheel to drive the bellows of his forge. Within two decades, the restless young man had discovered and mined ore deposits in the region, and he used the metals to build the many tools Noah requested. But a few years earlier, his adventurous spirit had diminish
ed when Evet gave birth to a little girl named Kezia.
Thrilled to have another girl in the group after three consecutive boys, Emzara volunteered to help Purlek and Evet whenever possible. She told Noah that Kezia would be their daughter-in-law someday, but she could not decide if Shem or Ham would marry her. Although secretly hoping with her that Kezia would one day be a part of their family, Noah liked to tease Emzara by reminding her that it was not her decision to make. Emzara and Rayneh studied the abundance of animals in the area, drawing or painting them and learning about their diets and habits.
Garun helped Noah build a ship construction barn similar to the one in the Iri Geshem shipyard. Not knowing how large the ark would be, Noah and Garun made the structure in such a way that it could be expanded to accommodate a ship greater than any he had made before. Laleel prepared most of the meals with Emzara’s help. On the cusp of 900 years, Methuselah assisted wherever and whenever he could, but he no longer participated in the hard labor.
Everyone in their enclave seemed happy. Everyone, that is, except Noah. Undoubtedly, the Most High led them here to build the ark, but now what? Thirty years had flown past like a taroc chasing its prey, and Noah still did not have any more information about the ark. He often rejoiced that the Creator blessed him with three sons, and that they enjoyed a quiet life far away from the decadence elsewhere in the world. But his heart longed for much more — to have specific direction for this undertaking, but above all to hear from the Creator again. That lone experience stood above all others, and although terrified by the prospect, Noah desired more than anything to be in His presence again.
He closed his eyes. Most High, please forgive me for being frustrated, and let my heart rejoice in the blessings You have given me.
Noah stood, dusted himself off, and turned toward his destination. Dozens of birds flitted about the trees and others sang from their perches as he marched toward the top of the hill. Two small furry creatures frolicked on the trail before him and then scampered up a tree at his approach, making him wish that Emzara would have joined him on this journey.
As he crested the hill, the sound of a waterfall reached his ears from the right. Little by little, Noah spun around and scanned his surroundings. The forest stretched as far as he could see below, and a wide river wound its way eastward. I wonder if that’s the Hiddekel. Turning farther, he saw that the types of trees in the forest changed abruptly. The towering needle trees gave way to a wide variety of shorter fruit trees, although, strangely enough, none seemed to be in season. As he examined the different scenery, he moved toward the fruit trees. A glint of light in the distance caught his attention. Noah searched for its source, but his eyes locked on to a single tree several hundred cubits away. Why is that the only one with fruit?
Suddenly, a flash of light exploded in his face and Noah fell on his back. Shielding his eyes, he scooted backward quickly and looked up, trying to understand the sight. A large flaming sword hovered before him, menacingly spinning in a slow arc in his direction, as if preparing to slice him as easily as a malid.
Transfixed, Noah gradually became aware of two other presences, one on either side of the sword. Standing approximately ten cubits tall, two enormous men — if they could be called men — dressed in glowing white clothing peered down at him. Their massive arms crossed in front, each of them boasted two gigantic wings that stretched upward from their backs and increased their imposing stature, and two more wings stretching far to either side. An immense sword hung from each man’s belt. The one to Noah’s left appeared a bit taller and thinner, and his hair, if that is what the glowing strands truly were, was a lighter brown than his companion’s hair.
Trembling, Noah averted his eyes.
“Fear not, Noah, son of Lamech, for you are greatly loved.” The thunderous voice belied the words he spoke.
How can I not fear? Still shaking, Noah willed himself to focus on the source of the sound — the giant being to his left. An image from Greatfather’s home invaded his mind. The guardians and the flaming sword at the garden! “Forgive me. I didn’t realize this was the garden.”
The protector to the right flicked his wrist, and the flaming sword sped away.
Noah climbed to his knees and lowered his head.
“Do not bow to us. Like you, we are servants of the Most High.”
“I’m sorry. I—”
The blinding glow from both beings lessened and they relaxed their stances. “Perhaps you will be more comfortable if we appear like this,” the shorter one said.
Noah nodded, still overcome. Shakily, he stood and beheld the guardians.
“Why are you here, Noah, son of Lamech?” asked the taller guard.
“I’m not sure. I’m looking forward to beginning work on the ark, but . . .” he let his voice trail off, aware that he was talking to beings that had been in the presence of the Creator.
“But the Most High has not revealed the rest of the plans,” said the shorter one.
Noah nodded.
“You have already begun the work.” The left guardian pointed back toward Noah’s home. “Have you not been preparing all this time?”
“We have.”
“And has the Most High supplied you with all your needs?”
“Yes.” Noah lowered his eyes, thinking of the gopherwood trees, ashamed to look back up at them.
“Then why are you frustrated?”
“Because I want to see Him again — to hear from Him.” Passion filled his tone.
“That is as it should be.”
Noah quickly glanced up and caught a look pass over the taller one’s face. Was that approval? Emboldened, he dared to ask the question that had been heavy on his soul for years. “Can you tell me when He will speak to me again?”
“When the time is right, He will tell you what you need to know.”
“Yes, of course.” Noah breathed in his first normal breath since they appeared. “May I ask another question?”
The giants nodded in unison.
Noah pointed beyond them. “That tree with the fruit. Is it the—”
“You must never try to reach it.” The shorter guardian put a hand on the hilt of his sword.
“I understand. So the old stories about Greatfather and Greatmother being driven out are true?”
The expressions on their faces transformed into frowns. The left guardian nodded. “After Nachash deceived the woman, and after the man rebelled, the Most High banished them so that they could never reach out their hands and eat from that tree.”
It’s good to know I learned the truth from my early years. Noah tilted his head. “Are there others like you?”
They looked at each other before the taller being spoke. “There are many like us, and many more not quite like us — the host of the Most High.”
“And Nachash? Is he—” Noah shook his head. “Forgive me. Was he like you?”
The taller one nodded and lowered his voice. “Yes, Nachash was once like us, but he rebelled against the King of Glory, and now he fills the world with his lies.”
“But he will fail.” The shorter guardian’s countenance brightened. “The Most High has declared it.”
“The descendant of the woman will bruise his head, right?” Noah held up a palm toward the one on the right. “How? And how will his heel be bruised in the process?”
“We cannot say. The Most High does not reveal everything, but you can be sure it will come to pass.”
“My friend Garun believes there are others like you who work with Nachash. Is he right?”
The taller guardian’s face flinched. “Yes. Sadly, others have rebelled against the Creator.”
“What will happen to them?” Noah asked.
“The Most High has not revealed that to us,” the taller one said. “Like you, Son of Lamech, we only know what the King of Glory permits us to know, and we must trust that He will do what is right.”
The other guardian glanced at the sky. “And now you must be on your way
. You have much to do before the judgment, and your wife will be concerned if you do not return by dark.”
Noah pursed his lips. He had so many more questions, but wearing out his welcome seemed like a poor decision. He nodded. “Thank you.”
“Farewell, Noah,” the guardians said in unison.
“Farewell.” Noah turned slowly, but kept his eyes on the guardians. After several steps, he checked his path ahead to make sure he would not trip over anything. He glanced back and jolted. In a heartbeat, the guardians had disappeared. Staring at their previous location, Noah shook his head. There is so much I don’t understand.
Chapter 23
“Love you, too. I’ll see you at midmeal.” Noah pulled away from Emzara, and with a bounce in his step, he exited their tent. Scattered rays of sunlight filtered through the tall gopherwood trees surrounding the encampment. A hint of coolness filled the air, though it would likely dissipate soon.
“Morning peace, Noah.”
Turning at the sound of the gravelly voice, Noah spotted Methuselah still sitting at the entrance of his tent. “Morning peace, Grandfather.”
“Still working on the lifts for the moving platforms?”
“Yes, we’re nearly finished with the second one.”
Methuselah held out a bag toward him. “Would you take this to Shem on your way?”
“Of course.” Noah took the pouch. “What’s in it?”
“Some of his favorite dried fruit and a new scroll I’ve been working on.”
Noah grinned. “Well, the scroll will certainly be delivered, but I can’t promise the fruit will make it.”
“They’d better.”
“I’ll try to restrain myself.” Noah winked before turning to head for the fields. The high-pitched tinging of metal to his left testified to Purlek’s industriousness. Down the tree line past the forge, Garun and Ham walked west toward the ship barn, but Noah veered to the right when he approached the crops. As usual, Japheth and Rayneh worked side by side. Today looked like a weed-pulling day, causing a hint of a smile to form on Noah’s lips. Glad I’m not doing that anymore. Continuing on, he spotted the herd of bleaters grazing on long green grass under Shem’s watchful eye as he sat against the trunk of a nearby tree, braiding three cords together to make rope from the material Elam had given him.
