by Tim Chaffey
“He spoke of how wicked this world had become and that He was grieved that He made people. Can you imagine the Most High being grieved?”
“Why shouldn’t He be?” Emzara shrugged. “We’re saddened by it too.”
“I don’t know. I suppose I imagined that He wouldn’t have emotions like we do.” Noah stared at one of the smaller boats in the harbor, where two men busily pulled their fishing net out of the water. Now commonplace, fishing was once unimaginable. Noah dropped his gaze as he recalled the first time he saw someone eating fish. King Lamech’s impudence had deeply troubled him at the time, but over the centuries, Noah had grown accustomed to the idea and it rarely bothered him anymore. Suddenly that old revulsion rose to the surface. “But you’re right. Man has rejected the Creator in every conceivable way. Why shouldn’t He grieve? And why shouldn’t He send a flood?”
Emzara started. “How can you say that?” She looked up into his eyes. “Our friends follow the Creator. Why should they be killed?”
Noah stroked her hair above her ear. “I asked Him what would happen to all the people.” He thought back to his meeting with his Maker. “Actually, I didn’t even ask the question. I simply thought it, and He knew my mind.”
Emzara’s eyes widened. “What happened?”
“He asked me . . .” Noah gulped, “He asked, ‘Do you believe that I will do what is right?’ ”
“What did you say?”
“What could I say? How could I begin to disagree with the One who knows my thoughts? The One who made me? Of course, I believe that He will do what’s right.”
In the dim light, she turned her large brown eyes toward him and the softened, higher pitch of her voice foreshadowed her tears.
“So Adira, Tubal-Cain, Kal, Elam . . . Rayneh. . . . Can they come with us or will they just . . . be gone?” She clung to him.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen.” He groaned. “The promise was for us, our sons, and their wives.” Ever since receiving the Most High’s message, the weight of it had settled on his shoulders like a massive wooden ship beam. His mind fumbled with the knowledge of what the future held and all the details yet unknown, although sharing it with Emzara lightened the burden a little.
“Our lives have been marked by seeing loved ones die. And now you say there’s much more to come? How can I bear this?”
He hugged her to himself. “I don’t know.” Tears rolled down his face and his chest tightened. “It’s not easy.” She sobbed in his arms, and all the emotion that he had kept locked inside for weeks finally broke free.
After some time, she took in a shaky breath, and he peered into her face, wiping her tanned cheeks with his thumbs.
“Em, God told me not to be afraid and that He loves me.” Noah looked up and briefly closed his eyes. “He also confirmed that what we heard about my grandfather’s father is true.”
Emzara returned a thankful half-smile and rubbed the wet trails on his face with her fingertips. “That’s amazing, but. . . .”
“Here’s what I have to believe. We know from what happened with Greatfather Adam that even though the Creator warns of death, He’s merciful in the outcome. We don’t know what that will look like for this situation. Maybe He’ll allow our friends to join us, but even if He doesn’t, I know we can trust Him. We have to.”
She nodded slowly.
“We should take comfort that the flood must be many years away.”
“So what do we do until then?” She put her hand in his and his pulse quickened.
“We start by enjoying the time we have with the people we love, and we think about how we’ll complete the task that lies ahead.”
“We’re not alone in this you know.”
Noah touched her midsection and smiled. “I know.” He stood swiftly and brushed off his garment. “Do we still have that young bleater?”
She rose, tilting her head as her eyebrows came together in the middle. “Yes.”
“I know it’s late, but let’s consecrate our actions before the Most High through a sacrifice and seek His direction.”
Emzara clasped her hands together and nodded.
Chapter 29
As Noah walked backward with his hands on Emzara’s slightly rounded abdomen, she rolled her eyes. “Are you ever going to hold my hand again?”
“You’ve had 450 years of that. Right now, I need to be ready in case he kicks.”
“I haven’t even felt that yet, so I think you’ll have to wait a little.” She picked up her pace, causing him to stumble slightly. “It’s good to have you home, but we’ll never make it to the shipyard at this rate.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Noah fell into stride with her and placed an arm around her back. “It’s good to be back.” He looked up at the familiar milknut trees, and she followed his gaze. The massive shoots at the top of each trunk boasted dozens of long, slender leaves that waved like graceful fingers and provided a comforting canopy overhead. She loved how the early morning light pierced through the foliage to dapple the soft forest floor below.
“It’s nice to have company again on the way to work.”
“You’ve had him with you.” Noah tipped his head toward her midsection.
She smiled. “True. Although not quite the same.”
“Well, I grant you I may be a better conversationalist than he is.”
“You keep saying ‘he.’ So you’re pretty sure this is a boy?”
Tears formed in the corners of Noah’s deep brown eyes. “I’m positive.”
“I still can’t believe the Creator actually spoke to you.”
“Nor can I.”
“I don’t want to consider all that stuff right now, but tell me what you’re thinking about this ark.” Emzara kept her voice soft, still in awe of having a mission from the Most High and still trying to wrap her mind around all it portended.
“Well, I think God’s placed us in a perfect location. We already have the shipyard and all the tools and materials we’ll need. We’re right on a harbor, which should be perfect, and we have many skilled people who could help. It’s almost like He planned this.”
She grinned at him before turning somber. “And I like that we won’t be traveling — it’s less risky for the baby.” Noah reached up and squeezed her shoulder, drawing her closer to him. Fresh emotions from the loss of their first child welled up from deep within her. “But now we have a second chance.”
“More than that. The Creator said ‘sons.’ ”
Her smile returned. “Sounds like we’ll have our hands full.”
“And not just with them, but with animals. Lots of them. You should love that part.”
She clapped her hands together. “It looks like studying them all these years will be useful after all.” She marveled at the Creator’s foresight. During their travels, she had always wanted to stop whenever they sighted unfamiliar creatures, in order to draw pictures of them and document their habits. And before it was shut down to make space for the expanding city, Emzara had helped out at a farm dedicated to treating injured animals. “It’s as if the Creator’s been preparing us all our lives for this.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Extraordinary.” She drew the word out in awe of the Creator’s wisdom and her responsibility. “Do you realize that this will have to be bigger than any ship you’ve made so far?”
“Much bigger. I’ve always wanted to build bigger boats, even back when I was your father’s apprentice, and I’ve had success. Think about the breakthrough we had a century ago when I learned that wood pegs can make the hull stronger than anything we’d tried before that. It seems like the Most High has every detail worked out.”
She squeezed his hand. “Remind me of this if I forget to trust Him.”
“Of course.”
“You’ve already started thinking out the plan for building it, haven’t you?”
Noah’s grin gave away his answer.
“I thought so.”
“I’ll need to construct some scale models to learn which proportions will be best. There’s still a lot to figure out.” Noah flexed his hand, revealing his eagerness to begin.
He stared at the ground silently for a few moments. “The last thing my grandfather told me was that he saw in me the same spirit that his father had. He encouraged me to warn people of the Creator’s judgment.” Noah looked up at her. “This impending flood gives me an urgency to tell others about Him and His ways.”
She stopped and faced him. “Will you say anything about the flood to them? To our friends?”
“I — I don’t know. Probably not yet. It’s still too new. But I’ll do my best to persuade people to follow Him.”
“Count me in.”
“There you are!” Tubal-Cain’s loud, frantic voice cut into the peace of their walk as he ran toward them from the shipyard.
Noah tensed. “What’s wrong?”
“Word’s just getting out. Three of our council members were found dead this morning in the town hall.”
“What?” Noah’s and Emzara’s startled responses mingled into one cry.
“Zain?” Noah asked.
Tubal-Cain nodded grimly. “He’s one of them.”
“No!” Emzara’s scream muffled as Noah pulled her against him.
Noah’s chest heaved shakily.
Emzara sniffed. “And the other two?”
“Kanael and Te’arek.”
Noah shook his head as Emzara tried to absorb the information. How could three people die at the same time, unless —
“Adira was talking to Maiava when I left to see if she could learn any other details. But, I think it’s obvious that this was no accident.”
Emzara gasped. “Those are the last three members committed to the Most High.”
Noah took in a long breath. “Does Kmani know yet?”
“I don’t know, although . . .” Tubal-Cain stopped as Adira rounded the side of the old office building and rushed toward them.
“Maiava couldn’t say much,” Adira tried to catch her breath, “but she was able to tell me in private that it looks like they were poisoned during or after the council meeting last night.”
“Poisoned?” Noah asked.
A loud clanging of deep tones from the town’s emergency gong grabbed the group’s attention.
“Guess we’re being summoned to the crier’s post.” Tubal-Cain turned as he spoke.
“Stick together,” Noah said.
Emzara walked alongside Adira as they followed Tubal-Cain’s long, hurried stride while Noah brought up the rear. They marched up the hill toward Sarie’s and found a large crowd had already gathered at the broad intersection. As the city’s population increased, they had implemented a series of outposts by which news could be disseminated quickly. The council dispatched runners to inform the citizens gathered at each station.
Tubal-Cain led them up against the wall of the former bakery. He and Noah strained to see over heads, but the tightly packed crowd made any visibility impossible for Emzara. Glancing back over her shoulder, she pulled Adira close.
“Make way,” a loud voice shouted ahead of them.
She turned her eyes up to the small platform that had been built about eight cubits off the ground between two large poles. Before long, the speaker climbed the rungs of the left post and stood above the crowd.
The gathering hushed as they waited.
“The words of Ashur, councilman of Iri Geshem. ‘Tragedy has struck our great city.’ ” The crier’s perfectly enunciated words carried over the assembly without being yelled. “Three of our cherished council members died mysteriously last night: Zain, Kanael, and Te’arek. As difficult as it will be to mourn for them, you need to know that we may all be affected by more than just grief.” He paused to allow the crowd time to process.
Carefully, the messenger produced a small scroll from his wrap and held it above his head. “I have a message from the master healer.” He unrolled the document and cleared his throat. “I have examined the bodies to see how all three could have died at the same time. There was no sign of violence, and I have concluded that they all had the same strange illness.”
Emzara pressed herself against Noah, feeling reassured by his nearness. She imagined the high-pitched, nasal tone of the healer as the crier relayed his words.
The citizens murmured and many tried to back away from each other only to bump into the people behind them. A woman’s voice called out, “Will it spread to others?”
“He wasn’t sure, but he added a precaution. Ah, yes, here it is. ‘If anyone has had contact with any of the deceased in the last week, they should go home immediately and remain there until the master healer declares it is safe to come out. Make sure you bathe in a blend of warm water, salt, shavings of milknut fruit, and three leaves from a red orb plant. If you experience any sudden pains or convulsions, hang a white cloth from your front door and a healer will be sent to you.’ ”
The crier rolled the scroll up and slipped it back into a pocket. “Following the private burial today, there will be an official week-long mourning period concluded by a gathering seven days from now in the square. That is all.”
Questions immediately filled the air, and the messenger instructed the crowd to ask them in an orderly manner. At the same time, the gathering began to disperse. Emzara followed Noah as they weaved through the onlookers, and before long, they were on their way to the shipyard with Tubal-Cain and Adira.
“I don’t believe it,” Tubal-Cain said.
“Neither do I.” Emzara shook her head. “I don’t like this at all.”
“Sickness?” Adira rolled her eyes. “Why would they gather everyone together only to tell them they need to avoid contact with each other?”
“With Zain gone, who will lead the council?” Emzara asked.
“Probably Ashur.” The blacksmith squinted and clenched his jaw. “I suspect he’s behind all of this somehow.”
Emzara held up a palm. “So do you think the master healer is part of some conspiracy?”
Tubal-Cain shrugged. “Could be. He’d do what Ashur says if he thinks it’s in his best interests. But maybe they were poisoned so that their deaths look like an illness.”
Adira ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it behind her shoulders. “It’s all a lie. Who’s ever heard of such a silly cure? There’s something they aren’t telling us.”
“Obviously, they intend to replace the three council members with people who agree with their wicked ways.” Tubal-Cain slammed a fist into his open palm. “Zain didn’t deserve this. He was a good man.”
Emzara knew her husband’s silence meant he was deep in thought. “Noah? What do you think?”
He shifted his focus from the road before them and held her gaze. “This changes everything.” Noah grasped her hands.
“What do you mean?”
With a grim look, he glanced at Adira and Tubal-Cain. “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe for us.”
“Where will you go?” Tubal-Cain asked.
Noah sighed. “I’m not sure. Probably Iri Sana at first, but I don’t know if I want to stay there either.”
“Just until things settle down, right?” Emzara said.
Noah shook his head slowly. “I can’t see that happening. I’m afraid we won’t be coming back.”
“But this is our home.” Emzara pulled her hands away from him. “We can’t just give up and move away when something bad happens.”
“Em, once the mourning period is over, Ashur and his followers will have complete control of the council.” Noah stroked his temples. “Do you really think they’ll allow followers of the Creator to just go about their business? They’ll make it illegal to serve the Most High, and you know what that means?”
Emzara imagined some of the horrors she had heard about from cities where Nachash worship flourished. Shivering as she pictured herself going through unspeakable torture, she beheld Adira for a moment before turning back
to her husband. “What’s your plan?”
“We have a week. It’ll take a few days to load a boat with the necessary supplies, and I think we’ll need two of them.” He pointed to her midsection. “You’ll leave town with our son when the first one is loaded and head to my parents’ house. I’m sure Garun and Laleel would be willing to go with you.”
“What about them?” Emzara faced her long-time friend. “We can’t leave them here.”
Adira glanced at Tubal-Cain. “Most of our children are around here, so we’ll stay put for now?”
Tubal-Cain nodded curtly.
“But if what Noah says is true, then you’ll be in danger.” Emzara swallowed hard.
“Maybe not right away,” Tubal-Cain said. “Ashur’s afraid of my father. I doubt he’d do something to us. If things turn out as poorly as you anticipate, then perhaps we’ll join you in a short while.”
Adira grabbed Emzara’s arm. “Promise me that you’ll stop in Iri Dekkel and tell our son what’s happened. Tell him not to visit here until he gets news from us.”
“That’s a better plan,” Noah said. “Em, instead of going all the way to Iri Sana, go to Purlek’s and wait for me. We can travel together from there.”
Emzara sniffed and her lower lip quivered as she watched her husband. “And when will you leave?”
“As soon as the second boat’s loaded.” Noah kissed her head. “I should be well on my way before the mourning period is over.”
“Do you think they’ll guard the bridge to make sure no one leaves?” Tubal-Cain asked.
“I don’t think so, but if they do, there are ways around that.” Noah turned his head to make sure no one else could hear their conversation. “The hinges on the lift need to be replaced and require the care of a certain blacksmith. Of course, it makes sense to work on it at night so you aren’t interrupting normal business traffic.”
“And if a certain boat happens to come along while I’m working on it?” Tubal-Cain asked.
Adira put a hand on his chest. “Then you pretend like you didn’t see it.”
Chapter 30
Iri Geshem — Noah’s 499th year
