Noah: Man of God

by Tim Chaffey

  “Wonderful. It will be ready shortly. Ek’tura, please prepare four extra seats for our guests.”

  Ek’tura nodded and hurried away.

  The meal commenced a few moments later, and although a variety of meats were available, Noah’s group found plenty of warm root vegetables, several kinds of bread, and a nut stew to eat. Several townspeople introduced themselves, but most looked at them as a curiosity. Based on the number of people Noah could see elsewhere in the village, he estimated that about a third of the villagers had gathered on the large platform. More than once, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the young woman from the chief’s side watching them closely, the steely expression never leaving her face.

  As the feast came to an end, the chief stood. “Noah, we thank you for sharing a meal with us, and we’d like you to join us as we offer a sacrifice to Bak’hana, the god of the forest who has made us successful.” He motioned to the grendec skull above his throne.

  Noah glanced at his companions before standing. He kept his gaze at the chief’s feet and took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. Creator, please give me the right words to say, and watch over us. “While I again thank you for your hospitality, please permit us to not participate in this sacrifice. We don’t wish to disrespect you and your people, but we worship the Most High God, the Creator of heaven and earth and everything in them.” Noah looked at the sculptures that served to constantly remind people of death. “The Creator gives life to all things, including the creatures of the forest. And He doesn’t permit us to worship other gods.”

  The chief folded his arms and stared at Noah as an awkward silence settled over the gathering. The strong man and young woman beside him spoke quietly though rather animatedly with the chief. When they finished, the chief tapped the floor twice with his staff of carved bone. “Very well, Noah. We don’t wish you to incur the wrath of your God. Ek’tura will show you where you can rest. May you sleep well. Also, I’d like to speak with you in the morning before you depart.”

  Noah put his fist to his chest. “Thank you, Chief. I look forward to it.”

  Ek’tura spoke briefly with the chief before he led them across several bridges to an area that seemed more like a bird cage than a room. Not much larger than the bed of their wagon, the circular wooden floor rested on a large branch jutting out from a tall thick tree. Multiple ropes tied to distant branches and trunks held it securely in place. Its walls were made from hundreds of thin pieces of wood and bone placed vertically from floor to ceiling, if it could be called a ceiling. A few beams crisscrossed above, and leaf-filled branches covered them. Several cushions, furs, and hides rested against the wall.

  “I trust you’ll find the room comfortable,” Ek’tura said. “If you need anything, I’ll be just outside the door. I have orders to lock you in.”

  “Why?” Noah’s relief disappeared, overcome by a sense of foreboding. “I thought we were guests here.”

  “You are, but Chief Ov’anit is concerned for your safety. Some of our more zealous citizens might be offended that you refused to take part in our ceremony. So I’m here to protect you.”

  “I see. Well, I didn’t intend to be offensive.” He lowered his head in what he hoped was a sign of peace.

  “Do not worry, Noah. I’m one of the best warriors. You’ll be safe.” Ek’tura thumped his own chest twice before smiling at the group. “I’ll be right outside. Please let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thank you.” Noah watched him close the door, but he could still see the man through the dozens of slim gaps between the wall slats.

  “Father, is everything alright?” Ham asked.

  Noah shrugged one shoulder and kept his voice low. “I’m not sure. Something doesn’t feel quite right. Let us pray to the Most High and then get whatever sleep we can. It’s been a long day, and I hope to leave early in the morning.”

  Chapter 29

  Slowly opening his eyes, Noah hoped for the darkness of night. The primary light shining into their room emanated from the sole torch near the door. Good, it’s not morning yet. He rolled over for what seemed like the hundredth time, trying to get comfortable and settle his mind. The next day would be difficult if he could not sleep more than a few brief spells. As he drifted off again, he longed for his spot on the bed next to Emzara.

  His eyes shot open at the faint sound of approaching footfalls. Had he slept again? There was no way to know. Who’s coming? Maybe another guard to relieve Ek’tura. Through the gaps in the wall, he spotted the tireless guard seated just beyond the door. Suddenly, Ek’tura bolted upright. “Ar’yel.” Keeping his voice low, he asked, “Why are you here?”

  “I came to see you.”

  The soft, feminine response surprised Noah, as did the glimpse of the woman clad in form-fitting skins who now stood near Ek’tura. Noah shifted his head one way and then the next, trying to get a clear view but to no avail. Her face remained hidden in shadow.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Ek’tura said.

  “Why not?” Ar’yel asked, her words lilted with the same accent as the rest of her people. “I know you’ve been watching me.”

  The guard breathed deeply and looked away.

  “Don’t deny your feelings, Ek’tura.” She raised a hand to the back of her head, and with a dramatic movement pulled a bony pin from her coiled locks and shook her head, allowing her hair to fall past her shoulders and nearly to her waist. Gracefully, she stepped toward him and dropped the hairpin.

  “But the law.” Ek’tura took a step back. “No one is permitted to touch you until the grieving period is over.”

  “I can’t wait another whole moon.” She stopped just before touching him. “Kiss me.”

  Again the guard turned his head, but only momentarily. He leaned forward and reached toward her before backing up another step to the railing. “No, it’s forbidden.”

  She placed her hand on his chest. “But you want to.”

  “Y-yes, but we need to wait.”

  “No one will ever know.” She stretched up to kiss him.

  He turned his face away again. “They will,” he said as he pointed toward the guest room.

  She snorted. “And who will they tell after the morning dawns?”

  Something in her tone bothered Noah. What did she mean? Is it just that we are leaving or are we in danger?

  A half-smile formed on the guard’s mouth and he shrugged. “Only the others who have entered the darkness.”

  “Exactly. Have no fear, brave Ek’tura.” She put her left hand around his neck and pulled herself up to kiss him.

  The guard hesitated, but then leaned in and closed his eyes.

  In a flash, just before their lips touched, Ar’yel slipped her right hand, palm-first into Ek’tura’s face. He drew back, but with her left arm pulling him forward and her right pressed into his face, he could not break free. He gave a choking cough, struggled briefly, then collapsed forward into her. She caught him with a grunt, using her slight frame to break his fall before lowering the unconscious man to the floor.

  For the first time since she arrived, Noah saw her face. The woman by the chief’s side. He sat up and shook Ham and then Shem. His voice just above a whisper, he said, “Get up.”

  One of the boys moaned.

  Ar’yel dusted some substance off her hands and then wiped them on Ek’tura’s wrap. She withdrew an object from his belt pouch and hurried to the door.

  “Elam, wake up.” Noah turned but realized his friend was already awake.

  A quiet click sounded from the door before it opened. Ar’yel stood before them with a finger pressed against her lips. “Be silent. We have to leave now.”

  Shem stirred and sat up.

  “What did you do to him?” Noah asked.

  “Sleeping dust. It won’t last long.” She glanced over her shoulder. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll all end up in the bone pit.”

  “The bone pit? What do you mean?”

  Looking frustrated
, she pointed straight down. “This isn’t a guest room. It sits directly above the pit — surely you saw it yesterday. At sunrise, you’ll be dropped into it as a sacrifice to Bak’hana. Let’s go.”

  Noah urged the others to get moving and ordered them to stay silent. Moments later, they followed Ar’yel out the door and across two bridges. After reaching a small platform, she stepped near the edge and felt around in the darkness before her, searching for something. She grabbed it and pulled it close. Only then did Noah see the thick rope in the faint glow of a distant torch.

  “This is our way down. I’ve cut all the other lines, but my people can still get to the ground in a hurry. Go now. I’ll follow you.”

  Elam stepped forward and took the rope. He climbed down and disappeared beneath the platform.

  Ar’yel urged Ham to go as soon as Elam was several cubits beneath them. Shem followed his brother.

  “I’ll go last,” Noah said as Shem started his descent.

  She tilted her head. “No.”

  “How do I know you won’t cut it while we’re climbing?” Noah asked.

  She shook her head. “Fine. But I wouldn’t go through the trouble of freeing you just to kill you.” Once Shem climbed a little lower, she gripped the rope and effortlessly dropped below.

  Noah glanced back the way they had come. Ek’tura still lay motionless outside their room. With a deep breath, Noah followed the others. Accustomed to climbing ropes, he descended briskly toward the ground, but he knew his aging muscles and joints would remind him of the action for several days. While focusing on the climb, he listened for sounds other than his own breathing and the slight creaking of the branch above from which the rope hung.

  After Ar’yel touched the ground, Noah slid a bit and then let go of the rope before it stung his hands. As he gathered himself, she ushered them forward.

  “Wait. What about our wagon?” Noah asked.

  “No time.” Ar’yel gestured for Noah to hurry. “Besides, your beasts are already dead. Come on.” She broke into a sprint and they followed her lead.

  A loud yell shattered the peaceful air. “Find them!”

  His heart leapt into his throat. Struggling to stay on Elam’s heels, Noah ran alongside Shem while torchlights lit up the canopy behind them. Suddenly, a shout turned Noah’s attention forward.

  “Watch out!” Elam lunged toward them and slammed into Shem just as a blurry figure entered Noah’s vision. A man swinging on a rope crashed into Elam and they toppled to the ground. Both men groaned while struggling to get to their feet. As he climbed to one knee, the invader reached for his bone spear, which lay a short distance away.

  Ar’yel raced to them, her long hair flowing behind her. She whipped out a knife, and with a scream, drove it into the man’s thigh.

  He cried out and fell to the ground, clutching at his leg.

  With Shem’s help, Elam stood up but staggered as he took his first step. He reached a hand to his side and pulled it back to look at it.

  Noah’s stomach turned as he spotted the dark sheen of blood all over Elam’s hand.

  Shem ducked under Elam’s arm and supported his weight on his injured side. “I’ll help you.”

  “Hurry!” Ar’yel gestured for them to move again.

  Shem and Elam soon figured out their steps and then half walked, half ran behind Ar’yel and Ham. Noah followed them, repeatedly looking over his shoulder as the attacker’s screams gave away their previous location.

  They hustled through the woods, and the yelling soon faded to distant cries.

  “Can we slow down?” Shem asked. “He’s hurt really bad.”

  “Not yet.” Ar’yel pointed toward a faint light ahead. “Not until we cross that bridge.”

  Something whistled past Noah and skittered along the ground. An arrow! “They’re shooting at us. Go!”

  Multiple shouts rang out behind them and Ham turned to look at Noah. “They’re gaining on us.”

  Elam stumbled and nearly fell, but Shem caught him and adjusted his position. “I’ve got you. Come on. You can make it.”

  The forest came to an abrupt end as they approached the light. The lone torch flickered atop a post at the end of a long bridge.

  Ar’yel put a hand up and then gestured to the bridge. “Go quickly. Watch your step!”

  Noah peered over the edge of a deep crevasse. Although a hint of orange appeared in the eastern sky, providing the slightest bit of illumination to the land, he could not spot the bottom of the gorge.

  Ar’yel grabbed his wrap. “Go!”

  Noah stepped onto the bridge. Like those in the tree village, it bounced a little as he hurried across. Grabbing the rope railings at his sides, he made sure each step landed on one of the boards suspended above the seemingly bottomless canyon. Glancing ahead when he reached the halfway point, he noticed only Ham in front of him. Distracted by the moment, he had forgotten to make sure Shem and Elam crossed first. He turned around to see Ar’yel right behind him, holding the torch she had taken from the bridge’s entrance. Back at the start of the bridge, Shem struggled to help Elam keep his balance on the unsteady planks.

  Despite Ar’yel imploring him to move, Noah stopped. “I have to make sure my son is safe.”

  As their pursuers’ shouts drew closer, Ar’yel pointed ahead. “Go! I’ll make sure he gets across.” She turned around and swiftly moved to Shem and Elam. A quick, animated conversation ensued, and Elam dropped to his knees while holding onto the rail.

  Noah gripped the ropes tightly. “Hurry up!”

  Shem glared at Ar’yel. “No!”

  “It’s the only way,” Elam said as he took the torch from Ar’yel.

  She pushed Shem forward.

  “No, I won’t leave him!”

  “Run, Shem!” Elam shakily climbed to his feet. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Noah glanced from Elam to the edge of the forest and then back again. As Shem and Ar’yel drew near, he turned and hurried to the opposite end of the bridge.

  Ham stood on the land, waving frantically and urging them to hurry.

  As Noah stepped off the bridge onto solid ground, he turned and grabbed Shem’s blood-covered arm and helped pull him to safety. Ar’yel crossed immediately behind him.

  Elam stumbled again and fell to his knees in the middle of the bridge.

  Noah and his sons screamed for Elam to hurry as a dozen men appeared at the forest’s edge across the bridge.

  Elam faced Noah’s group and held the torch against one of the two ropes on which the wooden slats rested.

  “No, Elam!” Shem stepped around Ar’yel and moved toward the bridge.

  Noah grabbed him and pulled him back before an arrow rocketed into the post near his head.

  “Go!” Elam quickly lit the two rail ropes and then fell forward with an arrow sticking in his back. He gasped and placed the torch against the other support rope. “Run!”

  Ar’yel pushed Noah away from the bridge. She pointed ahead. “Into the woods. It’s too late to save him.”

  Another arrow zipped past them, and three villagers moved onto the bridge, each wielding a bone spear. The first support rope snapped and the bridge twisted and swayed, causing the men to stumble. They turned around and hurried back to the land. Elam wrapped an arm around the most recently ignited rope, holding the torch in place.

  Noah pulled Shem along, and they soon ducked into the woods. Hiding behind a pair of large trees, they turned and watched as the rails burned through. The bridge flipped, and Elam dangled from the lone remaining rope, which burned near his arm. Suddenly, it snapped, and Elam plunged into the darkness.

  Shem dropped to his knees and wailed. Noah felt as though a piece of his heart had been ripped from his body. Seeing his son’s agony only intensified the pain.

  “I’m sorry about your friend.” Ar’yel touched Shem’s blood-smeared wrap and spoke matter-of-factly. “He wouldn’t have survived the wound. You should be proud of him. He gave his life to save all o
f us.” She took a deep breath and spoke with more compassion in her voice. “I’m truly sorry, but we need to keep going. It’ll take them only about a day to go around without the bridge, so we must get far away from here.”

  Chapter 30

  “I don’t think I can travel much farther.” Noah sucked in a deep breath through his mouth. His lungs burned and his legs ached. The sorrow and anger of watching Elam die had fueled his flight, but now, as the sun marked midmorning, Noah’s strength was rapidly dwindling.

  “We’re almost there.” Ar’yel slowed her pace. “Listen. Do you hear the river?”

  Noah bent down and put his hands on his knees. At first, he could hear only his own breathing and the pounding in his ears, but as his pulse slowed and he caught his breath, the sound of rushing water registered in his mind. “I hear it. Then we can stop?”

  Ham smiled at him. “You want me to carry you the rest of the way?”

  Shem scowled at his brother and kept walking. He had not spoken since the bridge.

  Noah offered Shem a sympathetic smile before playfully punching Ham’s arm. “I’m not that old. And you’re not that strong.”

  “Once we reach the waterfall,” Ar’yel said, rolling and elongating her Rs.

  “What’s so special about this waterfall?” Ham asked. “Why do we have to get there?”

  “You’ll see. Come.”

  She led them through the forest, and they soon found themselves at the bank of a calm and shallow river. She waded in up to her knees. “Step into the river and take a moment to drink. Then it’s essential that we stay in the water.”

  “Why?” Ham said.

  She pointed to their feet. “If my people discover our tracks, they will be able to follow us. The river will hide our trail.”

  Noah and his sons entered the river. While Ham and Noah enjoyed several handfuls of the cool water, Shem scrubbed the blood from his hands and arms before drinking. Noah closed his eyes, and the image of Elam dangling from the bridge and then falling crept into his thoughts. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. Be strong for your sons, especially Shem.

  Ar’yel crossed to the other side and walked around, intentionally stomping on the ground occasionally to leave marks and then backtracking over her footsteps.