by Brian Godawa
• • • • •
Twenty miles away, in the royal palace of Gath, the Gittite spy sent by Ittai stepped out of Lady Bisha’s bed chamber. He wiped blood from his dagger and made his way to the city gates.
Inside the chamber, Lady Bisha lay in a spreading pool of her own blood, gasping with what little life she had left in her. Her intestines were spilled out on the floor beside her, and all she could worry about was how bad she would look when they found her. Her hair was a mess and she had not gotten the chance to put on her makeup for the day.
She couldn’t go out this way. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. She was Lady of Gath. She deserved better.
Blood all over her new dress.
I should have killed that Hebrew, she thought as her life slipped into the oblivion of Sheol.
But David was wrong about her reunion with her Lord. They would not be seeing each other ever again. They would be seeing nothing but the eternal worm, utter darkness, piercing shrieks, and the wailing and gnashing of teeth.
• • • • •
On the Jerusalem side of the Valley of the Rephaim, Joab held the Philistines at bay. The giants began to push back, when Joab implemented the next plan of action.
He and David had studied the tactics of warfare used by Joshua to defeat the giants of Canaan in the conquest. They had read in the Book of the Wars of Yahweh how Joshua had overcome Og of Bashan. How they had built large composite bows the size of two or three men, laid on their side and operated by several soldiers. The large size of the bolts could take down giants.
Joab rolled up a dozen of these newly crafted huge bows, and they aimed above the heads of the normal soldiers at the giants in their midst. They released large bolts that found their large targets, skewering two or three giants at a time.
A contingent of giants charged the bows and scattered the Israelites, smashing the large devices to smithereens.
But the damage had been done. Casualties were high for the Rephaim.
That is when the Lion Men of Moab mobilized their offensive. Eight sharp-in-tooth, long-in-claw, lion-maned hybrids armed to the teeth with iron pounced. This clash between Rephaim and Ariels would not end well for either side. They ripped each other to shreds. Within the hour, the last of several hundred giants were bleeding in pieces on the valley floor—but so were eight mighty Lion Men who gave their lives in a heroic last stand for the King of Israel.
From this came the saying of these warriors of Gad and Moab, “The least was a match for a hundred men and the greatest for a thousand.”
At the rear of the battle, Abishai and his gibborim slaughtered their giant enemies. The Rephaim numbers dwindled in the face of the Israelite warriors, as they had with the Lion Men. Six hundred had become one hundred. The gibborim had been commissioned to fight until every last Rapha was dead. It was like hacking up a den of snakes.
When Joshua first conquered the Promised Land and decimated the Seed of the Serpent, he had left Philistia alone. He had cut off the Anakim from the hill country, from Hebron and Debir, and Anab. There were no giants left in all the land. They were all devoted to destruction along with their cities. Only in Gaza, Gath, and Ashdod did some Rephaim remain, left by the withholding of Joshua’s hand. These Serpent Seed were the descendants of that remnant of giants.
But the time had come for the messiah king and his forces to complete the task started by Joshua. The only problem was, the Rephaim remnant turned the tables on their vanquishers.
Two things happened at once that broke the surge of Israelite victory. First, Ishbi ben Ob yelled the name “Argaz” with a thundering voice, and second, he pulled out a special weapon he had saved for this very occasion.
The weapon was the ten foot long whip sword nicknamed Rahab that he had confiscated from Ittai’s smithery many years ago. He had been practicing with it for some time and could wield it with efficiency. Its blade was a flexible indestructible metal that, under the strength of a giant’s arm became a fan blade of mass death.
He swung Rahab and sliced dozens of Israelite soldiers in pieces, decapitating and dismembering them with ease. The demonic spirits around him howled with shrieks that pierced the ear drums of all around.
The Israelite forces backed away, lacerated, bleeding and dazed.
The ground rumbled under the footsteps of a new arrival: a fifteen foot tall, twelve hundred pound colossus named Argaz. He wore nothing except sandals, bronze grieves, and a bronze helmet. His bubbling decrepit flesh was so hideous, it frightened the Israelites just to look at him. His face looked like a skull with barely enough skin on it for a covering. His eyes were bulging orbs, his teeth, a perpetual skeletal grin. He looked like a monster ascending from the bowels of Sheol. He used a mace to crush and bludgeon dozens of Israelites to death as they stumbled over one another trying to escape the frightening sight.
He was a Rephaim storm god.
Combined with Runihura, who now swung his javelin with deadly force, this giant trinity became an unstoppable force.
And they pushed their way toward the forest, in the direction of King David.
Chapter 84
David, Benaiah, and their armor-bearers did not see the huge log that soared in the air at them from behind. They only heard the sound of leaves and branches being broken from the velocity of something that made them turn.
It was too late. The log was about three feet in diameter and about six feet long, a rotted husk that broke into pieces when it struck them.
Benaiah’s armor-bearer was killed, Benaiah, left unconscious under the wood debris.
David awakened just as a huge hand grabbed the scruff of his neck and dragged him like captured game into a large clearing.
He was thrown down into the grass and lost his breath.
He looked up into the piss-angry face of Lahmi of Gath.
“You despicable little Hebrew. I have been waiting for this moment for too many years.” In his hand was his large, signature scimitar dripping with the blood of a hundred Israelites. “I will finish what my brother started. And I will desecrate your corpse and skull with my seed.”
He raised the sword to cleave David’s body in two.
Just then, a blur hit him broadside, tackling him to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. It was Ittai the Gittite. The sword broke from Lahmi’s grip.
Ittai tumbled through the grass and roots with Lahmi, grappling for control. He was much smaller, at only six feet to Lahmi’s eight plus. But Ittai had mighty strength, and he had bested Lahmi enough in the past to make this fight equal—and deadly.
David crawled over to his armor-bearer, who had come to and knelt up to give him his sword.
Ishbi spotted the movement. His chance had come to achieve his goal. He snapped the serpentine blade through the air, aiming to cut off the left arm of King David.
The blade struck its target. The amputated limb fell to the ground. Another strike and his right leg was sliced from his body.
Ishbi saw the king’s dismembered figure fall to the ground bleeding out.
Ishbi yelled with victory, raising Rahab’s handle high in his hand.
But it was premature.
He had mistakenly killed the king’s armor-bearer, not the king.
David stood up from where the body of his armor-bearer lay and brandished his sword against the titan.
His puny little sword.
Two other giants, Runihura and the enormous Argaz, stepped into the clearing and stood beside Ishbi to face down David. The three towered above him and they all shared one single goal: to kill the Chosen Seed, messiah of Israel.
Ittai and Lahmi wrestled for dominance. Ittai got Lahmi in a headlock. He spoke through the strain. “We were brothers, Lahmi.”
The giant muttered with gritted teeth, “We were never brothers.”
Ittai grunted, “We fought together. We overcame death.” He meant the plague they both survived when they were but children and forever friends.
Lahmi hisse
d and tried to pull out, but he could not. “You were always weak,” he spit out.
Ittai knew he wasn’t referring to physical strength, but moral constitution. Ittai had always been hindered by petty concerns of right and wrong. Lahmi wanted to win and dominate.
“You could never be a Son of Rapha.”
“I don’t want to be a Son of Rapha,” Ittai growled. “I am a son of Abraham.”
Lahmi said, “This ends today—Runt.”
Ittai burned at the old insulting nickname. It brought back painful memories of rejection and unrequited respect.
He squeezed to make Lahmi pass out. Instead, Lahmi suddenly stood up, carrying Ittai on his back, and slammed him into a tree.
Ittai lost his breath.
A second slam and Ittai lost his grip. He fell to his rear on the ground, his head spinning, ribs bruised and cracked.
Lahmi moved away from him. He reached in his belt and pulled out a socket axe.
He drew back to throw it into Ittai’s chest.
He heard Ittai’s armor-bearer yell out.
He saw a sword flying through the air—and plunging blade-first into the ground in front of Ittai, who reached out and pulled the blade up to defend.
Lahmi turned his aim to throw the axe at the armor-bearer.
Ittai screamed, “ELHANAN!” But it was too late.
The axe struck Elhanan deep in his shoulder, dropping him to the ground.
Lahmi turned back to Ittai and picked up his scimitar right from the ground at his feet.
Ittai prayed to the Lord of Hosts, “Yahweh, use this sword, forged from the metal of Goliath’s own blade against his brother.”
Lahmi lunged.
David stared down the three giants about to slaughter him; Ishbi, Runihura, and the gigantic Argaz. It was all he could do to keep from staring at the gargantuan, a frightening monstrosity that looked like a tower of ugliness and evil. How could that thing be killed? He needed to stay focused.
What he wouldn’t give right now for a sling and three smooth stones.
Instead what he got was three gibborim giant-slayers with weapons drawn and in full attack: Abishai, armed with a glaive, had followed his prey into the clearing; the newly conscious Benaiah stood up next to David; and last but not least, the Mouse, that tiny little bowman with the tireless spirit, carrying two full quivers of arrows.
But there was a fourth surprise that made everyone pause with shock—a miraculous surprise. David’s dismembered armor-bearer stood up, with both arm and leg reattached. And he wielded a sword against Ishbi.
It was Mikael, Prince of Israel, guardian of King David. He had disguised himself to become one of David’s armor-bearers at Jerusalem.
And he was done hiding. He muttered, “I am getting really tired of being cut to pieces.”
David said simply, “Glad you are on my side.”
Mikael retorted, “Here to protect you.”
Benaiah complained, “Hey, what about me? Am I not adequate…?”
Before Benaiah could finish his question, Ishbi swung Rahab at Mikael, trying to cut him in half again. But Mikael was ready this time.
He was the only fighter present who could take on this special weapon, forged of heavenly metal in the furnace of God’s mountain, and stolen by this thieving spawn of the Serpent.
Mikael was going to take it back.
He pulled David down and the blade swung inches over their heads. Mikael then flipped, twisted, and dove the warrior moves of Karabu as Ishbi swung and snapped at him.
Ishbi’s blade could not touch this dancing, darting archangel. And his demons were howling mad. Their frenzy created a vortex of supernatural storm around him.
Metal struck metal with rapid succession like lightning strikes. The clashing blades of angel and giant caused a shower of sparks that started fires in the brush all around them.
The giant’s arm became tired.
Mikael found his moment and stuck his steel sword in the air to catch the serpentine blade. It wrapped around his own and he gave a yank with all his might. It jerked out of Ishbi’s hands and flew into the brush.
David could only think of one thing as he saw Mikael’s moves: poetry. His movements flowed like a song. He was a living, moving psalm—an imprecatory psalm of judgment.
Contend, O Yahweh, with those who contend with me;
fight against those who fight against me!
Take hold of shield and buckler
and rise for my help!
Draw the spear and javelin
against my pursuers!
Let them be like chaff before the wind,
with the angel of Yahweh driving them away!
Let their way be dark and slippery,
with the angel of Yahweh pursuing them!
Then my tongue shall tell of your righteousness
and of your praise all the day long.
Meanwhile, Benaiah matched Runihura staff for staff. Benaiah was at a disadvantage, being dizzy from being knocked unconscious. But this was the warrior who fought another giant with a concussion and killed two Lion Men while drunk. The Egyptian didn’t stand a chance.
The flames spread through the fighting arena, creating pockets of fire that the fighters had to avoid.
They say, “Come, let us wipe them out as a nation;
let the name of Israel be remembered no more!”
O my Elohim, make them like whirling dust,
like chaff before the wind.
As fire consumes the forest,
as the flame sets the mountains ablaze,
let them perish in disgrace,
that they may know that you alone,
whose name is Yahweh,
are the Most High over all the earth.
Because of Jonathan’s small stature, no one ever believed he could face a Rephaim giant. Now, after all the years of complaining about David holding him back, the Mouse faced off against Argaz, the behemoth, largest of the Sons of Rapha. Jonathan was small and speedy, while Argaz’s size made him slow and lumbering. And Jonathan wasn’t affected by the creature’s frightening look either. It only made it easier to attack.
Jonathan sprinted around Argaz, dodging his swinging mace, while emptying two quivers of arrows into the giant’s hide. They were annoying and insignificant pin pricks that the giant would snap off immediately from his over-scarred flesh.
The most deadly target for Jonathan, the Rapha’s head, was unfortunately protected by his bronze helmet, so the Israelite peppered his opponent’s body with two dozen pin pricks, all around his frame, making Argaz more furious than ever.
Your arrows are sharp
in the heart of the king’s enemies;
the peoples fall under you.
Your throne, O Elohim, is forever and ever.
The moment after Mikael had disarmed Ishbi of his serpentine whip sword, he shouted for Abishai, who stepped in and barked, “Leave some glory for the rest of us, archangel!”
Mikael grabbed David and said, “Let us get you out of here.”
Abishai wielded a glaive, a pole-arm weapon that affixed an eviscerating large blade to the end of a long pole. He swung it around like a fan blade and faced down the giant, who drew his scimitar with bravado.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Hebrew traitor. I have you to thank for the tasty prophets of Ramah.”
Abishai’s jaw went tight. So this was the demon monger who skinned all those holy men of Israel. And he was able to do so because of my indiscretion with the cult prostitute.
Ishbi’s sarcasm turned to taunt, “Get out of my way, Asherah lover, I have a messiah to gut.”
Abishai faltered at the remark. His spiritual betrayal had almost caused the death of his king. And now this uncovering of his secret almost caused his own death, as it distracted his defense against Ishbi’s slashing scimitar.
Abishai fell to the ground. He rolled just before the descending curved blade could cleave him in two.
But he was up again,
all his senses regained.
This battle would be his redemption.
In more ways than one, this giant must die for Abishai to live.
O Elohim, you know my folly;
the wrongs I have done are not hidden from you.
Let not those who hope in you be put to shame through me,
O Adonai, Lord Yahweh of hosts;
let not those who seek you be brought to dishonor through me.
I have become a stranger to my brothers,
an alien to my mother’s sons.
Deliver me
from sinking in the mire;
let me be delivered from my enemies
and from the deep waters.
Let not the flood sweep over me,
or the deep swallow me up,
or the pit close its mouth over me.
Ittai and Lahmi exchanged blows with their swords. Lahmi pushed Ittai to the edge of the clearing. The curve of his scimitar’s blade gave Lahmi an added advantage over Ittai’s straight sword. He used his blade to hook his adversary’s weapon in its curve and spin it out of his hands onto the ground.
Ittai was weaponless.
He backed up into the woods, dodging Lahmi’s thrusts and swipes. They had become a relentless flurry of madness that chopped down saplings and branches around Ittai like mere kindling. This also created a maze of dangerously sharp protruding branches that Ittai had to avoid in the tangle of combat.
Lahmi was not going to stop until his enemy was cut to bloody ribbons.
Ittai saw the blind rage and took his opportunity. He backed up against a tree.
Lahmi swung hard and wide.
Ittai ducked and the scimitar embedded in the tree behind Ittai. But it was not a sapling. It was old and thick. Lahmi’s blade was stuck deep.
Ittai threw himself into the giant’s chest and shoved him away from his weapon.