Caleb Vigilant (Chronicles of the Nephilim)

by Brian Godawa

  Torture was more fitting.

  Up above on the roof, completely oblivious of the assassination that had just been thwarted, Sheshai saw the moment he had been waiting for. His Nephilim senses came alive and he shouted to his trumpeter, “Sound the call!”

  The trumpeter was startled. Even though he had been waiting for his command, Sheshai’s voice was so intense and sharp, it jarred him. He lifted the war horn to his lips and sounded a prearranged bellow that would announce to the captains on the wall their next move.

  Because of Kiriath-arba’s close proximity to the southernmost Valley of Siddim, the Anakim had explored the valley for its natural resources. This was the location that had survived the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah centuries ago, and was just outside the shores of the result of that destruction, the newly expanded Dead Sea.

  It was also the location of one of Sodom and Gomorrah’s most precious resources: The bitumen pits of the Siddim Valley.

  The black pitch substance had been a profitable source of water sealant as well as other various economic uses.

  One of those various uses was a flammable device. The pitch could coat a torch and burn half the night as a light source.

  Or it could be set aflame and poured upon enemies at city gates with a fire that could not be quenched with water.

  The Israelites were making great headway with the battering ram and scaling ladders. The gate’s iron gilding had been pierced and the wood beneath was splintering.

  The scaling ladders had become too numerous to hold back at the other side of the city. The Israelites and Gibeonites were about to breach the wall and enter when the sounds of Sheshai’s war horn reverberated across the walls.

  The Israelite allies paused with surprise.

  The Anakim along the walls and at the gates moved cauldrons full of boiling pitch forward to the parapet.

  They then poured the pitch down upon the battering ram and upon the scaling ladders.

  The blistering heat burned alive dozens of men in its river of pain. But the real damage came from the fiery tipped arrows that lit the pitch and set afire the wheeled battering ram, scaling ladders, and the ground all around the attacking forces.

  It was a wall of fire burning everything in its path with unquenchable flames.

  Israelites and their allies screamed in agony.

  Anakim laughed in derision above them.

  The battering ram became an oven of wood that cooked alive the men within.

  Caleb looked upon the chaos with horror. He sounded the retreat, but it was too late. Hundreds of men were trapped in an inferno of torment.

  But that was not the only subversion to occur in this stratagem of Anakim terror.

  The team of fifty gibborim led by Othniel through the secret Anakim catacomb tombs were now at the top near the tumulus.

  Caleb had made the mistake of not considering the fact that once Sheshai had led Joshua to the tombs, he would know that Caleb would now have the knowledge of that entry point.

  And Sheshai had set a small army of several hundred Anakim to guard it.

  Othniel’s band had cautiously exited the tumulus entrance to the gilgal of astral worship. But the Anakim lay in wait and caught them off guard.

  Othniel’s’ warriors put up a mighty defense, but it was not enough for their small number and they were overwhelmed.

  They were butchered.

  Joshua looked up at the towering form of Sheshai marching in front of him, as he was escorted toward the prison cell by a dozen guards. He wondered why the king would bother to waste precious time accompanying a prisoner to his incarceration while there was a crucial battle going on above.

  But Joshua was unaware of the stinging loss that Caleb had just experienced.

  And he was not prepared for the sight before him in the cell.

  In the corner of the chamber were not one but two prisoners chained to the wall. The giant Talmai was beaten and bruised against one wall, staring into oblivion. Joshua thought he would be dead by now, but evidently, Sheshai had more nefarious punishment in mind for his seditious brother.

  Part of that punishment was chained to the wall crosswise from Talmai.

  It was another Anakite. A dead female Anakite with her eyes, tongue, and sexual organs gouged out, and her naked body full of a hundred stab wounds.

  Sheshai could see Joshua’s confusion. He said, “That was my brother’s lover. My wife.”

  Sheshai was torturing his brother mentally before he would torture him physically. He was stuffing Talmai’s double betrayal into his face and forcing him to choke on it.

  These Anakim monsters were a vicious and brutal lot.

  “Brother,” said Sheshai, “I have company for you.”

  Talmai looked up from his delirious stare. When he saw Joshua, his eyes focused and he came out of his delirium. His eyes filled with seething hatred.

  Sheshai said with a wry bite, “Have you had sufficient time to contemplate the betrayal of your blood?”

  Then Talmai’s broken look hardened with a smirk spread across his lips.

  He said, “You have lived a life of betraying blood. You used our brother Ahiman and you used me as pawns in your ambitious quest for power.”

  Sheshai said, “It is the way of our people, Talmai. As Ahiman once said so poignantly not too long ago, there is but one god: Power.”

  Talmai said, “And you could not achieve it through strength or might, but through deception and cunning. Like a woman.”

  Joshua could see that stung Sheshai. Their worship of power led the Anakim to despise the nature of the female gender. They dismissed nurture, compassion, and empathy as weakness. Women were reduced to property. They were tools of male sexual gratification and breeding vessels for the growth of the clan. To accuse another male Anakite of female qualities was the highest of emasculating insults. And it was enough to justify a demand for satisfaction through a duel in the Pit of Death.

  But Talmai’s insult was not shallow macho bravado. Sheshai’s treatment of his wife illustrated a deeper truth. He would not have reacted with such emotional vengeance on his wife if he had seen her as merely property. He would not have lashed out at her or his brother if he did not have affection for her that was deeper than mere property.

  Sheshai had loved his wife.

  Despite the evil that seemed to reign throughout the land, all human creatures, even half human creatures like the Anakim, displayed a trace of the image of Yahweh suppressed in their soul that leaked through the cracks of their hardened violent exterior. Even evil monsters were capable of love, of kindness, of affection—of weakness.

  Talmai broke Sheshai’s silence, “I shall go to Sheol with the pleasure of knowing that I exposed your frailty: Your humanity.”

  He said ‘humanity’ with such disdain because these Seed of the Serpent detested their human side and desired to be fully gods, like their divine progenitors, the Watchers.

  Finally Sheshai spoke. “Talmai, your entire life you have been nothing but a lawless juvenile. I have rescued you from your own inability to control your passions so many times I have lost count. You have always lacked the character and discipline to achieve the notoriety you sought but could not grasp. You will not be remembered as the most feared son of Anak, as you had desired. Rather, you will be forgotten as just another criminal with delusions of grandeur.”

  Talmai responded through gritted teeth, “Brother, if you fancy yourself such a noble example of Anakim justice and kingship, then I demand that you fulfill our law of blood vengeance and allow me a duel in the Pit of Death.”

  Sheshai burst out with a laugh. “Do you really think my honor is sullied by your childish invectives against me?”

  “I am not referring to you,” said Talmai. “I am referring to him.”

  Talmai glanced at Joshua, whose blood ran cold.

  “That Habiru is the commander of the forces, whose surrogate leader killed our brother Ahiman. Anakim justice demands blood for blood.
Do with me what you will, but first allow me to satisfy our family’s vengeance.”

  Sheshai knew Talmai was correct. He may have been a wild and unruly savage, but he knew enough of the law to use it to his own benefit when necessary.

  Anakim laws of retribution stipulated the right for any citizen to wreak vengeance upon a killer of family members in any way they so desired, including a duel in the Pit of Death. Because Talmai had no access to the offender Caleb ben Jephunneh, his superior officer was judicially guilty as his superior representative. Should Caleb be captured after blood vengeance was taken, he would still face judgment, since substitutionary atonement was never accepted as full satisfaction like it was in Israelite justice.

  Talmai knew Sheshai’s other weakness, a tendency to respect the law.

  He had gambled on his appeal to Sheshai’s sense of justice and played it as his last peg on the game board.

  And he was right.

  Sheshai thought about it. Then he looked down at Joshua and said to Talmai, “To the Pit of Death you shall go.”

  Chapter 68

  When the large bronze colored barrier between Ba’al and the archangels began to move, the angels knew they were in trouble. It had been stretched over a crevice that encircled Ba’al’s throne. That crevice led to a river of molten lava a hundred feet below. The gargantuan Nehushtan had been warming itself over the heat fumes of the volcanic magma.

  But now as it slid into position its head came into view, a flat-headed cobra with piercing blue lapis lazuli eyes. And behind its head were a series of four reptilian wings that began to unfold. It was a winged serpent, the size of which the angels had never before seen. Its head alone was twice that of the bulky Ba’al, and its body must have been one hundred feet long when uncoiled.

  It rose to a height of twenty feet over them with its hood and wings spread in a frightening hissing display ready to strike.

  The three archangels took combat stances with weapons ready to return blade for fang.

  Uriel could not help but blurt out, “Not another snake. What is it with all these snakes in this land?”

  Raphael said, “I for one plan on having snake steaks this evening.”

  Gabriel added, “And a pot of cobra stew. So stop your belly aching and get your dicing blades on, Uriel.”

  The huge reptile brought to mind the divine uraeus cobras of Egypt that guarded the Pharaoh’s throne and tombs. But this one’s size was fitting for its divine liege.

  Ba’al belted out, “Archons, you have trespassed in my palace! Now face the wrath of Ba’al Most High!” He pointed his iron mace in their direction and shouted, “Nehushtan, smite them!”

  The copper gargantuan hissed and struck at the closest foe, the small figure of Uriel, who rolled out of its way with nimble dexterity.

  Raphael and Gabriel synchronized slashes on either side of the flared hood and drew blood.

  But it would take much more than the tiny claws of these rodents to faze Nehushtan.

  It followed its original strike with a series of snapping fangs at each of the angels who had to dodge and dance out of the way with Karabu flair.

  Unfortunately, it was not three angels against one gigantic serpent; it was three angels against one gigantic serpent and the mighty storm god of Canaan, who now leapt forward to engage the angels with his smiting mace and piercing lightning bolts.

  Within his palace, Ba’al apparently had the ability to call forth balls of lightning out of the air above them. A charge would gather around his hand. He would then throw it at his opponent like a catapult of fury.

  The first one hit Raphael and sent him flying backward ten feet to the ground shaking with a seizure until the lightning charge dissipated.

  At the same moment, Nehushtan’s tail came around behind Uriel and wrapped around him in a cocoon of scales.

  It was about to be all over for the angels.

  Chapter 69

  Caleb had just withdrawn his forces and was still reeling from his losses at the gates and walls of the city. The Anakim filled the parapets swaggering their necks and jeering the Israelites.

  Caleb was in his war tent surrounded by his commanders when Othniel arrived from his failed raid. He was bloodied and beaten and he delivered the news that would push the dagger deeper into Caleb’s guts.

  “We were ambushed by a platoon of giants. We never made it out of the gilgal tumulus. I alone survived.”

  It was a devastating setback for Caleb. All three of his attacking forces had been crippled and repelled. He had lost close to three hundred men. And now he was unable to rescue Joshua from the jaws of that hellish titan, Sheshai.

  It was a dark day for Israel.

  Just like those who died in the failed siege attacks, every one of those men was a valuable human being who had a family with wife and children. They each had goals and dreams of a life that impacted countless other people. They were stories cut short, narratives unwritten, painful losses to a multitude of other people.

  But he was the commander of the forces of Yahweh. He had to keep his mind on his objective, on his duty to Yahweh.

  Caleb placed his hand on the weary Othniel’s shoulder and said, “My brother, I am grateful for your service to Yahweh.”

  He turned away to consider the implications of this failure. Joshua would not be coming back to the congregation of Israel.

  All the commanders knew it too.

  But their dread silence was broken by the arrival of another messenger.

  “General, the sappers are successful! They await your command!”

  Caleb turned to his commanders and said, “Ready your forces. This is our last chance.”

  When the Israelites had first arrived at their siege of Kiriath-arba, Caleb had set about in preparation for several plans of attack. The battering ram and siege ladders had failed. But the third stratagem was to use the mining knowledge of the Hittite war counselors from Gibeon to dig tunnels into the Anakim city.

  They had started behind the Israelite lines out of sight of their enemies. They had been patiently digging all the past week underneath the skirmishes and battles that had led to this very moment.

  And Caleb had directed the mining sappers to tunnel to the one location that the Anakim would never suspect: The gates of the city. He had correctly surmised that if their battering ram tactic had failed, the Anakim would assume Israel too demoralized to attempt another attack on the gates. That they would seek another approach.

  And Caleb was right. He had even left the burning remains of the battering ram blocking their entrance up the rampart of the gates. This was surely interpreted as a sign of resignation on Caleb’s part.

  It was not anything of the sort. It was a ruse.

  A significant force of several hundred warriors traveled through the tunnels to the end point just inside the city gates.

  The sappers prepared to make their breakthrough. They had used a rigging to hold the ceiling of the tunnels in place as they dug to within inches of the surface.

  Outside the city, Caleb led three divisions of men in what looked like another ladder attack, away from the city gates.

  The Anakim focused their attention on the foolish Israelite attempt to repeat their previous failure.

  But underneath the city gates, the sappers used ropes held by the hundreds of waiting soldiers to pull the rigging down and with it, the ground surface beside the gates.

  A huge sinkhole opened up, the size of ten men wide. By the time nearby Anakim had figured out what was happening, a flood of Israelite warriors was already pouring in like a dam bursting.

  They slaughtered their way up into the gate towers and opened the threefold doors like a gaping wound.

  The Israelites outside the walls then abandoned their ladders and ran along the walls toward the gates. Their enemies above killed some, the removal of the battering ram slowed others down, but the ruse had worked. Thousands of Israelites poured through the city gates like a bleeding artery.

&nbs
p; They held their bridgehead with fierce determination fueled by the memory of their fallen brothers.

  The Anakim regrouped and came from every corner of the city to meet their Habiru enemy with every giant in arms.

  But it was too late. The Israelite allied forces pushed inward like their long lost battering ram.

  Giant met human. Metal clashed with metal. The Anakim were spread out, the Israelites were concentrated and overwhelmed their enemies. If these forces met on the open battlefield, giants had the superior numbers because of their size and strength. But within the city, size encumbered agility and speed moving within and around the obstacles of buildings and alleyways.

  The Anakim were under the ban of herem, so the Israelites were slaughtering every living thing—man, woman and child. They set homes on fire and left in their wake a frightening destruction.

  Yahweh had turned the tables.

  Chapter 70

  Joshua stepped out into the large arena surrounding him with empty seats. It was the Pit of Death. There would be no audience for today’s contest, except for six guards at the perimeter, for everyone else in the city was along the walls in battle positions against Israel.

  Normally, in a blood vengeance duel, the offended Anakite would have the right to handicap his opponent with a wound of some kind to ensure victory for the justified.

  But not today. Talmai was avenging his brother Ahiman’s death at the hands of Caleb, but he wanted his justification to be entirely of his own power. So he did not wound Joshua, but left him unscathed with full capability.

  Talmai wanted it to be an equal match so that his victory would be that much more glorious—his revenge that much more satisfying. This half-pint human would not stand a chance against his skill or force.

  But no matter the outcome, the victor would be brought back to the dungeon by the watching guards for a later execution. So this fight was more for personal satisfaction than anything else.