Abraham Allegiant (Chronicles of the Nephilim Book 4)

by Brian Godawa

  As she stepped up onto the sand, water glimmering down her voluptuous naked curves, the entire religious procession stood in wonder.

  She raised her hands and spoke to the crowd surrounding Nimrod’s chariot throne. “I am born from the holy waters of the Abyss, from the victory over Tiamat by Marduk, king of the gods. Who is the king who can crown me queen?”

  Nimrod stood and approached her. The whole faux display of theater was arousing to him. He found himself breathing heavily and staring at her enticing form with renewed erotic desire. She was truly a thing of beauty and lust.

  He stepped up to her and announced, “I am Nimrod ruler of Akkad and Sumer. I will make you my queen, divine one.”

  Shamhat bowed to the ground before him. He was going to ravish her when they were alone. He was not sure if he would be able to wait that long, as she looked up into his eyes with complete and utter submission.

  Then she stood and Nimrod asked her, “What is your name, O daughter of the gods?”

  “I am Semiramis,” she said, “Virgin of the Waters.”

  Nimrod muttered to her so only she could hear, “I will violate that virginity of yours till you are pleading for mercy.”

  He held out his hand to her and shouted for the ears of the crowd, “Come, be my queen!”

  She whispered back to him, “I am going to drain you like this lake, big boy.”

  He smiled at her erotic innuendo.

  But he did not realize that she actually meant it in a different way. It was delicious irony to her.

  The musicians began playing music and a royal robe covered Semiramis, which was a good thing because most of the male priests were having a hard time concentrating on their tasks at hand. Her naked full breasts, her curvaceous hips, her voluptuous vulva, all fired the imagination of men’s desires. She was not merely a specimen of physical beauty. She had an aura of erotic power that would turn any man into putty in her hands.

  Nimrod was the only putty she was interested in.

  Chapter 11

  The preparation for Nimrod’s wedding to Semiramis was a month long. They had constructed a large temporary shelter for the actual ceremony, and cleared an area large enough to host the hundreds of thousands who would attend. Nimrod called for the other kings of Sumer and Akkad and their royal households to be present. The heads of the clans of the sons of Noah, Joktan, and Phenech, would also bring many of their tribes to witness the wedding.

  Nimrod was getting increasingly demanding of his vassal kings. He had raised his tribute taxes on them and was calling for more and more corveé labor to finish his city and tower in an unprecedented period of time.

  They had finished draining the lake and leveling it with landfill, but the wedding would be a few miles to the west of the city near the edge of the great desert. The city was surveyed and laid out for the construction of the temple. Bricks were being hauled in and it was just too much to hold his wedding around such a busy mess.

  But there was another reason for holding it near the desert; a reason that Nimrod would withhold until the proper moment.

  The day of the wedding was sunny and the night of celebration would be arid but cool. The kings of Sumer arrived from the south with their royal households and encamped in the southern plains. They were puppet kings of Nimrod through his son who ruled in Uruk.

  The kings of Akkad were less so, as Joktan and Phenech of the clans of Japheth and Shem brought some armed forces as a personal guard to express some independence. Nimrod had heartily welcomed their caution in the interest of building a better relationship with these clans. This marriage marked the beginning of a new dynasty and Nimrod wanted it to be one of trust and support, not mistrust and hostility. He even allowed the several thousand or so guards of Joktan and Phenech to assemble on the desert side of the festivities so that they too could see the ceremony and participate in the feast. It was a gesture of good will that did not go unnoticed by the tribal leaders.

  Joktan was the more distrusting of the two and his notice carried a whiff of sarcasm. “I noticed our armed forces were useful to Nimrod to create a barrier from the desert sand winds for the celebration, while his malformed overgrown giants stand comfortably in the aisles of honor.”

  Nimrod’s elite Nephilim warriors, his giant progeny, had followed Nimrod and Semiramis in a long train of pomp and circumstance down the aisle that led up to the sanctuary stage. The Nephilim had then stayed in position, lining the aisles all the way to the back of the huge crowd. They were dressed in expensive royal garments of silken robes, jeweled ornaments, and painted faces.

  “Look at them,” sniffed Joktan, “they are like a giant gauntlet of the vainglorious ego of their leader, or rather, their bastard father.”

  “Really, Joktan,” said Phenech, “You must stop sucking on green persimmons. They accentuate your sour puss.”

  Phenech was only trying to make the best of a humiliating situation. Joktan smirked and the two of them sat down in their location at the front of the crowd.

  The royal families were seated in the place of honor at the head of the festivities, and the commoners were kept separated by partitions of soldiers in the distance. The king was kind enough to include all the people, but not so kind as to ignore the proper hierarchy of caste distinction between peasants and nobility.

  The city-states of Akkad, or central Mesopotamia, were up front: Nippur, Sippar, Kish, and the surrounding area. Behind them were the southern cities of Sumer: Uruk, Ur, Eridu, Shuruppak. And behind them, were the representatives of the fledgling new northern city-states of Asshur, Nineveh, Rehoboth-Ir, Calah, and Resen.

  It was a microcosm of the known world. Two hundred thousand people from every tribe in the land come to see the wedding of the mighty King Nimrod. And Nimrod delivered to them from his bounty. Ten thousand sheep, cattle, and boar were killed daily for meals. Uncounted bushels of grain and barrels of beer flowed into the masses.

  But at this moment, all food had been put away, all drink withheld, and all eyes fixed on the ceremony of union being performed at the front of the great congregation. Temple musicians played the lyre, flute, and tambourine. The high priestess of Marduk oversaw an orgy of copulation onstage between the heads of state from the cities and hierodules, temple prostitutes. It was a celebration of fertility, hope, and debauchery.

  Marduk stood statuesque at the back of the sanctuary display for divine validation of the union.

  Terah had arrived not many days earlier from his work down near Uruk. He stood in the entourage of sorcerers and magi. He was disgusted watching the wanton mass of writhing and moaning that went on in front of him, though he would never let on to his personal sentiments for fear of reprisal.

  He did his duty and obeyed god and king. That was all any ruler could ask of a man. That was all he could offer.

  When the orgy had run its course, the High Priestess declared Nimrod and Semiramis husband and wife, king and queen of Babylon. They stood before the mass of people and smiled as the cheers rose like incense into the sky.

  When it all calmed down, Nimrod took position on a mount and made a pronouncement to the people.

  “Thank you all for coming to my wedding and celebrating the ascension of Queen Semiramis to her throne. And now I have but one more pronouncement to make, and that is that from this point forward and forever, I proclaim myself emperor and potentate of all the earth!”

  The people murmured amongst themselves. They were not really sure about what they had just heard. Did he say he was now potentate of all the earth? What did that mean for the other kings?

  The rulers of the cities would know what it meant in mere seconds.

  They looked at one another with shock, and then began clucking with anger at the gall of this king. They were his vassals. As if that was not enough, now his hubris knew no bounds as to claim total supremacy? Insufferable!

  Joktan and Phenech looked over at their Guard considering their options. But it was too late.

  Terah s
creamed out, “Stone Ones, arise!”

  All around the Guard and behind them, the ground began to move, and large stone beings rose from the dirt as if the earth itself was coming alive.

  They were the golemim. The army of ten thousand Stone Ones, created by Terah and animated by the sorcery of enchantment. They had traveled silently up from the south and had dug their way into the ground in camouflage the week before. Now they surrounded the armed forces.

  Some of the Guard drew their weapons, some of them tried to fight. But it was hopeless. Sword, javelin, and mace were useless against rock. They were enclosed, hemmed in by a wall of rock that tightened in on them. The Stone Ones were three times their number and carried their own weapons of swords, maces, and battle-axes. Blade glanced off boulder; rock and mace crushed human flesh. Several thousand screaming guards of Joktan and Phenech were swiftly defeated and crushed by the multitude of silent stone warriors of Nimrod.

  Everyone watched in terror.

  They finished their slaughter in minutes.

  The blood drenched Stone Ones lined up in silent military attention, ready for their next orders. They were an undefeatable brute force.

  The royal families on stage did not know what to do. But the concealed assassins did. The hierodules pulled daggers and slit the throats of the naked nobility.

  The gauntlet of Nephilim warriors that lined the aisle up to the stage had not been there for mere pomp and circumstance. They were there for a task: To execute the royal families of the city-states.

  They pulled their blades and blunt weapons to slice and bludgeon the nobles to death. Joktan and Phenech, being the heads of the sons of Noah, were first to die. Blood and gore splattered through the screams and pleadings of the victims. Arms and heads were hacked off, intestines spilled out. These giant warriors were well trained and performed their task with cold efficiency.

  In mere moments, the armed guards were dead, the nobles were dead, and all of Nimrod’s potential rivals had been purged in a river of blood. In mere moments, Nimrod had consolidated and secured his absolute power through a swift and mighty show of force, sorcery, and bloodshed.

  He breathed a sigh of great accomplishment. Nimrod was potentate of all the land. Semiramis was his queen.

  But now, he had to rally the mob or find himself overrun by a tsunami of humanity awash in fear and panic. And the way he would do it was through envy and coveting. Akkadian society had three basic levels: The wardum, or slaves, lowest on the social scale, including prisoners and debt slaves; the muskenu, or “commoners,” who were economically tied to either temple or palace; and awilum, or “free citizens,” who were not legally attached or dependent on either religion or royalty. By rallying the dependent classes against the independent upper class of free citizens as an enemy, he diverted attention from his own deeds, and justified the breakdown of society into total dependency on the city-state and their king.

  He was never one to let a crisis go to waste.

  He pronounced with an amplified voice of authority, “My people, fear not! My children! You are safe! No more harm will come!”

  It was amazing. His delivery carried across the hundreds of acres of land as if it were the amplified voice of deity.

  “I regret what I had to do to the rich and powerful, but it was necessary for your good! This privileged upper class, these fat cat aristocrats who exploit you for their own benefit will do so no longer!”

  The crowd began to rumble agreeably.

  Nimrod continued, “These were the one percent of wealthy pigs who ruled over the ninety nine percent with their greed and their selfishness! But I swear to you by my very head and by the head of my queen Semiramis, that as our subjects you will never go hungry!”

  The crowd burst out in applause.

  He milked it, “You will never be without shelter in the great city of Babylon!”

  More applause resounded.

  “You will never be without health and welfare!”

  The applause turned to jubilation.

  Nimrod then reeled them in like a fish on a line.

  “You will be taken care of from cradle to grave under the mighty rule of Nimrod, emperor of the earth!”

  Now the masses swarmed with worship and screams of orgasmic release.

  Nimrod had become their lord and savior.

  Chapter 12

  Six hundred miles away from Babylon, in the Great Cedar Forest of Bashan, deep in the bowels of Mount Hermon, the goddess Ishtar sought a clandestine audience with the creature she most sought to emulate in her quest. In the divine council of heaven, he was called the satan, Elohim’s legal adversary. In the Garden he was Nachash, the Serpent of Eden. In this postdiluvian world, he was known by other names as well, but Prince Mastema was his personal preference. It had a certain ring of royalty and power that appealed to his pride.

  Mastema was the only Watcher who refused to take on the name of a localized deity as the others did. His status as the primal Tempter of mankind was political leverage, and he gloried in his elite status among the Watchers.

  Ishtar had engaged in a covert operation of traveling to Hermon with her human consort, Canaan, son of Ham. And now, they were alone in the vast cavernous belly of the assembly of gods awaiting the arrival of her mighty role model.

  The cavern was empty. The gods had vacated their headquarters at the request of Mastema. Behind Ishtar and Canaan, the black waters of the Abyss were perpetually alight with flame. The sparkling gem-laden stalactites and stalagmites gave an eerie glow to everything in Canaan’s vision.

  A deep bass tonal voice pierced the quiet. “Ishtar, this had better be important. It was no easy task to garner this empty assembly hall.”

  Mastema stepped out from the shadows.

  He was unusually tall for a Watcher, eleven feet high. He was a Seraph, one of the original reptilian beings that guarded the very throne chariot of Elohim. He had six wings and eyes that could entrance any unwitting soul with hypnotic power. He was gangly, without the muscle mass of someone like Marduk. But he remained influential on the assembly nonetheless because he had borne the title distinction of being the “Accuser” or prosecutor in Elohim’s heavenly court. The other Watcher gods feared him, not as they feared Marduk for his brawn, but because of Mastema’s legal cunning that could wreak as much devastation as ten marauding Marduks. Mastema had figured out the advantages of law-twisting over lawlessness.

  Mastema’s reptilian eyes penetrated Canaan’s countenance. Canaan shuddered.

  “Do you fancy my little flesh bag of bones?” said Ishtar. “Delectable, is he not?”

  “Is he an offering?” asked Mastema, salivating.

  Canaan stepped a little more behind Ishtar. The hairs on his neck stiffened. His breath shortened. Mastema could smell the fear.

  “Unfortunately, no,” said Ishtar. “But trust me, he has more far reaching benefit than an orgy of torture, rape, and dismemberment could ever provide.”

  “Pray tell,” replied Mastema. All his senses tuned in on Ishtar.

  Ishtar grinned. She had him in her grip. “I am reminded of a certain prophetic promise in a certain garden so long ago. ‘I will put enmity between your seed and her seed,’ I believe are the actual words, though I could be mistaken.”

  “Do not remind me,” grumbled Mastema.

  It hung over Mastema like an axe waiting to strike off his head. The Creator, Elohim, had cursed Mastema and engaged a war between the Seed of the Serpent and the Seed of Eve. For generations, the Watchers had tried to corrupt that seedline with their commingling of heavenly and earthly seed. They had sought out the bearers of that bloodline to hunt them down and exterminate them: Enoch the giant killer, then Noah ben Lamech. But they had failed; the Deluge had crushed their accomplishments under its cleansing waves and frightened them from ever cohabiting with the daughters of men again. And they had lost track of the sons of Noah.

  Until now.

  Ishtar grinned. “We may not have the Chosen Seed
,” she said. “But we do have the Cursed Seed.”

  She pulled Canaan forward and cuddled him with a sensual playfulness.

  Mastema was only beginning to understand.

  “I introduce to you, Canaan ben Ham, son of Noah. Say hello to your master, Canaan.”

  Canaan croaked out a trembling response, “M-my Lord, I am y-your servant.”

  “Indeed?” said Mastema, stroking Canaan’s head down to his crotch with his finger.

  Ishtar continued, “He is the fruit of incestuous rape of Noah’s wife by her son Ham. The Chosen One cursed him.”

  Mastema’s scaly brows rose with greater interest. He knew of Anu and Ishtar’s experiments before the Great Flood. He had even known of their test subject, Ham, who was called Canaanu in Uruk. The irony of the name similarity did not escape him.

  “So, this one is a carrier of the Nephilim blood?” asked Mastema.

  Ishtar answered, “From within the bloodline of the Chosen Seed himself. I know. I performed genetic alteration on his father.”

  Mastema was following well. “What better bloodline to create the Cursed Seed from than the line of the Chosen Seed.”

  Ishtar added, “And what better location to breed that seedline than here in the Levant? We could call it the land of Canaan after our own chosen one as a slap in the supreme despot’s face.”

  Mastema paused. “What about Elohim? The Watchers’ original breeding program brought down the deluge of judgment. If we pursue that agenda again, we risk another cataclysm that will surely imprison the rest of us.”

  “But Elohim promised to never flood the earth again with water,” replied Ishtar.

  “There is always fire,” countered Mastema, “and other disasters.”

  Ishtar disagreed, “It makes the Creator look like an incompetent moron to be destroying and recreating his creation over and over again. He will not risk that kind of foolishness. He is a vainglorious peacock.”

  Mastema listened with intent. Ishtar was onto something here.

  Ishtar continued, “The problem with our antediluvian scheme was that the Watchers took control and sought to reign outwardly. Our breeding program was too bold a scheme. If we avoid fornication with the humans ourselves and simply breed the Nephilim strain through the humans already tainted, then we will not draw undue attention to ourselves. It will take a little longer, but our precious little Canaan here is the key.”