“But what?” She frowned and winced, holding her belly as the baby kicked.
“I do not think I’m willing to risk it with Father the way that he is.” Lamech stood and paced so his legs would stop threatening to move on their own. “It reminds me of . . . of my mother.” He chanced a glance in time to see Adah’s gaze darken.
“What do you propose we do?”
“You must stay here while I descend the mountain, gather the necessary supplies, and bring them back to take care of Father before his sickness progresses.”
“How long will that take?” Her eyes glowed like copper in a fire.
“Half a day down, maybe a day back,” he said and shrugged away the prickling sensation rippling down his shoulders.
“No. Absolutely not.” She steadied herself with one hand and placed the other on her belly as she struggled to stand.
He crossed to help her up. “Adah, I—”
“You promised.” Her chin shook, and she quieted. “You promised you wouldn’t leave. You knew. That’s why you held this from me.”
His insides dropped as if thrown from the cliff. “I had no idea how sick Father was.”
She pushed him away. “What if he is watching? What if he made your Father sick to lead you away so he could have me alone and do what he wants?” Now she was rubbing slender fingers through her hair.
“If the man you fear could have crept into our encampment, poisoned Father’s food or drink, and been gone again before anyone noticed, why would he not have just killed us long ago? Why would he wait?”
“Because he would want me to know. That’s the way he would want it.” Adah’s lips thinned until they nearly disappeared. Tears grew between her eyelids, and a moan escaped her throat.
Lamech stepped forward, but the coverings twisted around his ankle, and he kicked them away. “Your dreams are nothing but an extension of your fears. I am going to leave, and nothing will happen. You will just be alone for a while. And then I’ll return and treat Father, and the baby will come and we will live a happy life together!”
Adah twisted with hands clasped around her belly and eyes shining red. “Stop yelling at me. My father used to do that and I hate it.”
“I’m not yelling at you!”
She pressed her hands over her ears and said, “Go.”
He blinked as his face warmed. “What?”
“Leave!” She thrust her finger toward the door.
He stood shaking. Fingers clamping to fists. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Just go!” Her voice made him jump.
He shut his mouth, turned, and staggered out the doorway.
He cut through the mountain brush between paths not so much thinking of his destination as of his desire to get away. He cycled through their conversation, searching for what went wrong. They had never fought. Not since they bound themselves to each other.
Perhaps that was why his thoughts were so blurred. Why his breaths came so shallow and constricted.
She could be so difficult. So determined. Yet that was what he most loved about her. It was what he had seen the day he found her. Proof that she could lift him outside of himself.
And lift him she had.
An unfamiliar male voice came from just around the corner and broke his thoughts. “Bloody business back in the village. Lost twelve of our own.”
Lamech slipped on the gravel, landing hard on his back and rolling into the brush to avoid being seen.
“What was that?” Footsteps scuffed, stopped.
Lamech held his breath, belly flat to the earth. He couldn’t see whoever had spoken, but if any part of him was exposed . . .
He glanced down and thought he saw his legs covered by thick branches. His pulse washed his ears and black spots threatened his vision.
“You heard something?” said a second voice.
“Yes,” said the first with no small amount of irritation.
“It hardly matters,” said a third. “The God-King expects us in a fortnight. We’re already behind schedule. We can’t risk losing more time.”
“What if it’s one of them?” said the first. “Following us?”
“If it shows its face, run it through,” said the third.
Footsteps continued up the mountain. Lamech closed his eyes and stole several quiet breaths, clearing his mind. Bloody business in the village? Lost twelve of their own? The God-King? These were not men bringing supplies, and if they continued up the path they were on, they would be headed right toward Adah.
Lamech pressed his temple to the ground and wiped sand from his lips, grimacing at the metallic smell of mountain dust. If they so much as looked at her . . .
He couldn’t hear their footsteps anymore, but what if the first one had been overly cautious? He could never match more than one without surprise on his side, so he waited and hoped against hope that they had all moved on.
He filled his mind with the peaceful rise and fall of Adah’s shoulders, and the subtle movement of the innocent babe inside her, then rose to a crouched position and crawled up the mountain, skirting the pathway to avoid being seen.
A yell erupted behind him, sending cold shocks down his neck. He turned just in time to see a figure vaulting over a pile of rocks. Lamech burst into a sprint up the mountainside, throwing his arms as he climbed, slipping on loose rocks.
Desperate scuffing sounded closer and closer. He glanced behind and saw the man’s face red between what looked to be curved, black horns sprouting from his skull. The man was well-conditioned to have such endurance so high up the mountain. Even after years of acclimation, Lamech realized he couldn’t outrun him. So he grabbed a large jagged stone and spun around, using the momentum of his turn to force the projectile into the man’s face. The man dipped to the left and the rock hit his right horn, toppling him toward the cliff edge two body-lengths away.
Lamech sprinted down and leapt into the air, his foot colliding with the man’s midsection, throwing him farther backward, arms and legs flailing for a hold. The man’s lower half disappeared over the edge, then his upper half, finally his horns.
But the momentum sent Lamech sliding toward the cliff too. With dust flying and stones skipping, he twisted onto his belly and grabbed at a gray bush that flashed by, but the roots gave and he slid farther. He dug his fingernails into dirt and scraped them against stone as he slowed to a stop, his legs dangling over the edge.
He belly-crawled until fully back on solid ground, and after taking several breaths to calm the spinning of his vision, he twisted back to peer over the edge. The man’s motionless body lay broken amidst pieces of shattered horn.
Lamech struggled to his feet, beat his legs to stop the tremors, and hurried home as quickly as he could.
Chapter 15
Adah sat cross-legged in the darkness of her cell, clutching the shaft of the needle. It seemed days before torchlight warmed the way, but as the light grew, she smiled, wiped her face, and slipped the needle against her left palm, careful not to prick her skin.
First came the chuckling, followed by footsteps and heavy, wet breaths. Tubal was alone, and he came close and raised the torch to toss the glow about her features. Horns shone atop his head, and a smile sat crooked on his left face. “Rejected, eh? Not good enough for the God-King?” Tubal laughed as he unlocked the door with a set of iron keys dangling from his belt. He swung open the gate and stepped in. “You’ll be good enough for what I have planned, won’t you?”
She shot to her feet and dashed toward him holding her empty right fist high to divert his gaze from her left. Tubal screeched with delight and caught her wrist, but she kicked at his groin and swung her left hand in to stab with the needle. He sidestepped, kneed her in the stomach, and palmed her to the ground. She wheezed, rolled away, and fumbled with the needle, nearly losing it.
Her ears adjusted to the shift of his feet as she tried to rise, but already his arms grappled her with terrifying strength, his laugh ringing in her ears. “A fighter! I lo
ve the fighters!”
She screamed and twisted, but he threw her against the wall, knocking the breath from her chest. She wheezed on the ground and clutched her broken ribs, tears sliding down her face.
He approached, grabbed her by the throat, and raised her off the ground. His hand squeezed tighter, and she felt as if she had been tossed into a well that’s lid was slowly closing, blocking out all sight and sensation.
Finally, as her mind fell into darkness, she swung her body from left to right, hoping the needle was still clenched tight in her fingers, for she could feel nothing but the pressure behind her eyes.
Then the pain returned, and with it a roaring noise, as if the earth were on fire. She perceived that she was lying on the ground, and that Tubal towered over her, bent and blurry. There was a terrible noise like a thousand oceans scraping the depths of the earth, so loud that it threatened to split her from ear to ear.
She coughed, realized her palms were pressed to her ears, and saw Tubal collapse, convulsing. The needle was partially embedded in his shoulder, and its slender shape gleamed in the firelight.
“What did you do to me?” he screamed.
The world came into focus, and the stone edges of her cell fell back into place. She pushed herself to her knees, crying out with the pain of it.
Tubal was convulsing and lay in a pool of what looked like blood. The fluid trickled from his mouth, eyes, and nose, but he no longer made any noise but the rustling of cloth and skin against stone.
She sat for several minutes breathing. Watching.
His body went stiff, and the light of the torch continued, even as the red pool threatened it with extinction. She crossed to him on hands and knees and worked the torch from his grip, coaxing the flames back by feeding them with bits of his clothing.
She tipped her head and held the torch between her teeth so her hands were freed to tear the keys from his tunic. But there, beside the keys, hung a vial of oil useful for refilling lanterns. She removed the stopper, poured the liquid over Tubal’s body, removed the keys, and lit his body on fire.
For several moments she watched the demon crackle and glow, and couldn’t help but think the burning she felt in her abdomen was a cleansing. But as she walked into the dark corridor and heard the startled gasps of the other women, her satisfaction turned to dread.
She turned and saw them huddled together, a mass of bruised skin. Eyes gleaming like wild animals stripped of fur and starved to skeletal forms.
“Help us,” they whispered. First one, then several, then all of them, crowding against the bars, arms reaching, voices rising.
How could she leave them? Even if it meant her death, how could she bow to the same cruelty that brought her here, a slave in a dark hole in the ground? She was no better than these women, no more deserving of life, of freedom.
The flames still crackled across Tubal’s body, and the burning in her abdomen returned like an inferno. Now she thought she saw the God-King’s intentions with clarity. He had promised to never harm her, and maybe he would have remained true to his word. But even if he never touched her, what greater damage could he do than to pressure her to abandon her own? To betray not just her sisters, but herself?
He had threatened her with death, and offered her what she craved. Before this moment, she thought that would be enough to keep her from daring to disobey. But now that she saw the women watching her in the dim light, she couldn’t imagine leaving them in such hellish, dark captivity.
Not to save herself. Not for anything.
The keys jangled in her hand as she walked to the cells, unlocking them one by one. She motioned to the women in the dim light, and they issued past her shaking, tentative. “Thank you,” they whispered, and some threw their arms around her, weeping, kissing her, though after realizing how injured she was, they stopped.
“We have little time,” she said. “Follow me to the aquifer. It will be empty, but not for long.”
She led them to the hole in the ground, then held up her hand to stop them. “I will jump first.”
She handed over the torch, sat on the edge, and took a few shallow breaths, gazing into the abyss below. The women shifted on their feet, and their breaths seem to fill the entire labyrinth, echoing on and on.
Closing her eyes, Adah pushed herself over the edge. Wind rushed past, whipping her hair, and for a moment she imagined that the God-King had lied. That she was rushing to meet violent water, to be bashed against stone and carried along, drowned in dark water.
But even as her mind said, So be it! her feet met solid ground, and she collapsed. Pain exploded through her abdomen, and for several long moments she lay hovering on the edge of consciousness, moaning. Finally, she rolled to her back and looked up at the light flickering against the women’s pale faces above.
“It’s safe!” she rasped, and the women, one by one, began to drop.
When Adah finally made it back to her feet with the help of the others, she looked down the aquifer and far in the distance saw a prick of light, like a star in the night sky. Together, with her arms draped for support over two of the starved women, they turned from the darkness to walk toward the light.
Chapter 16
As Lamech reached the plateau, a blast of cold wind separated the huts from the narrow pathway beyond, followed by Adah’s scream and a frenetic throbbing in the soil. The mountain shook and boulders tumbled, and as the shaking stilled, Lamech bounded forward, retrieved a bronze cooking rod from the toppled fire pit, and grabbed a handful of ashes in his left hand.
The tarp over Adah’s door had been slashed, and the roof sat askew from the quake. As Lamech rushed inside he saw three shapes. Another scream erupted from the smallest shape with its back against the wall.
“Adah!” Lamech said, and she glanced toward him. One of the other dark shapes dashed toward her, but she swung a small knife, forcing it back.
Now the other two shapes turned toward Lamech, and he saw they, too, had what looked to be horns on their heads.
“Lamech! It’s them!” Her voice tore as if she had set her knife to it.
The horned devils moved quickly, but not quick enough. The one on the right was closest, but Lamech stepped right, saw the demon adjust, and so he slid left, slamming the cooking rod into the side of his neck, sending him sprawling.
The other jumped a small table, but Lamech tossed the ashes into his eyes. He cried out as Lamech shifted and struck the devil in the back of the head, splitting his skull.
“Lamech!” Adah said, and he whipped around. The first one had recovered and had hold of Adah’s arm. She stabbed him with the small knife, but he growled and wrenched the weapon away, pinning her arms to her sides and pressing the blade to her throat.
“Drop the rod,” the devil said with a glint of teeth and a hiss of breath.
But Lamech would not drop the rod.
Sweat dripped down the devil’s face, and one of his black horns pressed against Adah’s head. “Drop it or I will kill her and the baby both.”
Lamech hoped Father had somehow awoken. But if he hadn’t come by now, he was either more ill than Lamech thought, or already dead.
His grip tightened. What if these men had come for some reason other than murder?
The devil smiled, stuck out his tongue, and dragged it across Adah’s cheek.
Lamech sprinted forward, but the man kneed Adah in the stomach, threw her away, and fled for the door. Adah shrieked and rolled as Lamech caught his ankle, pulling him to the ground. The devil twisted, and Lamech punched him in the stomach. The demon kicked Lamech in the shoulder and twisted away, leaping up faster than he thought possible. He stumbled after, rushing out into the mountain pass just as he saw the devil taking off down the mountain road.
Lamech grabbed the cooking rod laying on the ground and followed. But after rounding two bends, he saw no one and came to a stop, chest heaving for air. The devil couldn’t have made it so far in such a short time. He had to be here somewhere.
/> Lamech slid forward slowly, eyes shifting from side to side. The devil burst from the brush, head down, horns aimed toward Lamech’s midsection. Lamech jumped back and smashed the rod into one horn, sending splinters flying.
He slid back and swiped grit from his cheek as the attacker tumbled to the ground. Lamech bounded toward him before he had time to recover, smashing first his left knee, then his right.
“Mercy,” the devil said. “Have mercy!”
“Mercy?” Lamech screamed.
He shook with pain. “You won’t kill me. I know what kind of man you are.”
“You do?” Lamech loomed over the monster. “No one touches my family.” He lifted the rod, and the creature screamed and turned to crawl away, but Lamech beat him until he stopped moving, then beyond, screaming with each strike.
But he felt no satisfaction. Only an empty horror. And as the bronze rod fell from his hands with a splash, he turned, shaking, and ran back to the hut to find Adah.
She lay in the dark, and he cradled her and pulled back her dress. A dark bruise had begun forming across the length of her swollen belly, and she was sitting in blood.
He pressed his hand against her cold cheek. She sucked at the air, and tears drew flesh-colored streaks through the red on her face. “Our baby,” she said, and cried out, arcing her back. “It’s coming.”
Lamech held his wife in a pool of blood as she screamed with each sudden, strong contraction. But he could do nothing to stop it now.
Three hours later, pale from exhaustion, their son exited her womb, followed immediately by a bag of tissue and a fountain of blood. Lamech lifted their son and cut the cord with the small knife Adah had fought with. He then turned the boy over, searching for wounds. The boy wailed, but Lamech found no injuries, so he laid him on Adah’s chest to suckle.
Adah wept silently, eyes glazed, blood continuing to issue from her womb. “Noah,” she whispered. “Our relief from the struggle.”
Flood Page 7
