David Ascendant

by Brian Godawa

  Lahmi barked, “I have an order for six new scimitars. They are for the officers, including Goliath. So you had better do your best work or I’ll have to beat your little dwarf ass for incompetence.”

  Ittai was only five foot eight inches to Lahmi’s eight and a half feet height. But Lahmi knew Ittai was easily as strong as his tormentor, if not stronger. He might not be blessed with the height of a Rephaim, but he had the strength of one, developed further through the labors of blacksmithing. Lahmi danced around that reality, relying upon his superior status as the ultimate inhibitor of Ittai’s response.

  Ittai responded with inhibition and submission. “Why the importance, my lord Lahmi?”

  Lahmi looked around to make sure no one was in listening distance. He stepped closer inside the shop. He always treasured the opportunity to boast to Ittai. “A big battle is coming. The Sons of Rapha will finally be unveiled in all our power and glory. Speak nothing of this, or I will have to slit your throat.”

  “Of course.”

  Lahmi gave his usual grin of contempt. “We are the Seed of the Serpent cursed by the Israelite god Yahweh. Ha! It is a badge of honor to be so cursed by such a despicable deity. We will hand him his curse back on the blade of our scimitars!”

  Ittai blurted out, “How?”

  “Well, it has just been revealed by none other than Dagon himself to our inner circle…” He paused for gloating effect, “that an ancient prophecy of a messiah king born of the Seed of Eve and of Abraham will rise within Israel. In a fortnight, Goliath will call out their Champion, this warrior messiah, and challenge him to a duel. It is no surprise what the outcome of that battle will be.”

  Lahmi grunted with self-satisfied delight. Ittai was stunned. But he wasn’t thinking of any battle, Ittai was thinking of the fact that he had Nephilim blood in him. He did not have the height, but he had the extra fingers and toes—which he had cut off—and he had the strength. He had Nephilim blood in his own veins. He was cursed by this Yahweh god who fascinated him.

  Lahmi was unaware of Ittai’s concerns. “So the sword you forge today for Goliath will be the sword that will cut off the head of this so-called messiah king. That is why it is important, runt.”

  That word always dug into Ittai’s soul. Runt. But now he barely heard it. He still swooned from the kick in the stomach realization that he was cursed. It was bad enough that he had wanted to be a Son of Rapha and was rejected. Now he was cursed as well.

  “What is this?” said Lahmi.

  Ittai shook out of his daze and noticed that Lahmi was holding up the sword Rahab in its strange-looking sheath. He pulled the blade out and it rolled onto the floor in front of him.

  “Nothing,” said Ittai. “A curiosity.”

  “Curiosity it is. But ‘nothing’ it is not.”

  Lahmi felt the blade. He pulled back with a bleeding finger. The thing was sharp as the scales on a dragon.

  “It is an heirloom,” said Ittai. “It was used as a scythe for wheat.” More like a scythe for heads.

  Lahmi looked at him. “Do not lie to me, Ittai. This is a weapon.”

  Ittai protested, “A rather clumsy one for any place other than a wide open field.”

  Lahmi knew he was hiding something. “I want it. I want to buy it.”

  “It is not for sale. I told you, it is an heirloom.”

  Lahmi stared daggers at Ittai. “I could take it.”

  Ittai stiffened. His muscles went tense and bulged as he approached Lahmi, returning a burning glare into the giant’s eyes. He gently took the handle from Lahmi’s grip.

  “You will not take it.” It was the closest to outright defiance as Ittai had ever displayed. He decided in his heart that if Lahmi and this warrior cult of beasts took all his dignity from him, they would not take this one thing. It represented too much. This would be where he would take a stand.

  Lahmi could see it in his eyes. Though Ittai could out-fight Lahmi when they were children, many years had passed since then, and much training for Lahmi with the Sons of Rapha. But Ittai too had apparently trained and developed his strength and fighting skills.

  Lahmi chose not to engage with the “runt.”

  “Well, don’t leave your precious ‘heirlooms’ laying around if you don’t want them to be snatched up and bought. Runt.”

  Lahmi marched away. Ittai watched him with a thin smirk of victory. In all this, Lahmi never noticed the steel blade sitting on the table under his nose. The idiot.

  Ittai hurriedly hid his two precious weapons and set about closing the shop for the day. Before he left, he poured himself a mug of strong wine to settle his nerves. He was not sure whether it was in response to the confrontation with Lahmi or the impending proposal he had promised to make to Ummi’s father this evening. Now that would be a confrontation indeed. He could fight a giant, but facing the father of the woman he wanted to marry was far more frightening.

  He got up and opened the door to leave. He stopped short. Goliath and Ishbi towered over him.

  Goliath said, “I understand you have a curiosity my brother is interested in buying.”

  The big coward. He went and got not merely his big brother, the Champion of Philistia, but also Goliath’s warrior partner, Ishbi. He had to line up three Sons of Rapha just to bully one small little “runt.” In a way, it was a compliment to Ittai.

  He backed up slowly into the shop. The giants followed him, ducking to get in the door.

  “Where is it?” said Lahmi.

  Ittai refused to answer.

  Goliath growled, “A Son of Rapha is speaking to you, dwarf shit. Answer him.”

  Ishbi and Lahmi stepped up to Ittai, leaving Goliath behind them.

  Ittai said only the minimum. “I told the officer it was not for sale.” He kept his eyes locked defiantly on Ishbi, insulting Lahmi.

  Ishbi said, “Now it is. Produce the whip sword, and we may just let you live.”

  Ishbi smiled down at Ittai from his nine foot height. He placed a condescending hand on Ittai’s shoulder. Suddenly, Ittai heard the sound of multiple voices whispering in his mind. They were demonic voices and they came from this giant.

  Touching Ittai was a mistake. Ittai knew he was going to get a thrashing, so he thought he might as well get the first licks.

  He grabbed Ishbi’s hand and held tight as he twirled in toward his midsection. He jammed his elbow into the giant’s gut. Ishbi bent over with a grunt of surprised pain. Ittai was close, so he released the hand and double fisted Ishbi’s jaw in a hard upward hammering motion.

  Ishbi stumbled backward, almost losing consciousness. Goliath caught him.

  It left Lahmi open. Lahmi swung punches at Ittai. Ittai dodged them and hammered a right-hand blow into Lahmi’s thigh.

  Lahmi cried out in pain.

  Ittai grabbed the stunned Lahmi and threw him into one of the pillars. It cracked and the entire edifice shook. Lahmi’s nose was broken and gushing blood.

  Ittai turned to face the others. It was too late. Ishbi was on him. Ishbi tackled him to the ground and slugged Ittai. The cacophony of demonic whispers penetrated Ittai’s consciousness again. But Ishbi could not hold down the blacksmith for long. Ittai was deceptively strong—as strong as Ishbi himself. He was not going down easily.

  Ittai landed one good slug on Ishbi’s face. Then the hand of Goliath pummeled his head from behind. Ittai blacked out.

  He came to within seconds, only to be pummeled with revenge by the two bested giants. Stopping at an eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth was not a value of the Philistines. They began clubbing and pounding Ittai with the intent of breaking his nose and all his teeth, along with his jaw and any other bones they might add to the mix.

  However, Goliath stopped them at the broken nose and concussion. He pulled Ishbi and Lahmi back. Ittai’s eyes were blurred with blood. He slipped in and out of consciousness. But he had just bested two of the mightiest warriors of Philistia. Call him a runt and dwarf shit, but he humiliated them and they kn
ew it. Ittai actually bared a smile, looking up woozily at the giant Rephaim glaring down on him.

  “Here it is” shouted Lahmi. He had Rahab in his hands. He had found it behind the furnace.

  “Let me see that,” said Ishbi. Lahmi handed it to him. “So this is what all the fuss is about?”

  Goliath threw a handful of coins onto Ittai. Some rolled away on the floor. “That is the price of your finest sword.” Then he threw a pouch of other coins onto him as well. “Here is the payment in advance for the scimitars. I expect them within the week and I expect them to be solid and strong.” He turned and barked to the others, “Let us go.”

  They followed Goliath out. Then Lahmi turned back and spit on Ittai, hissing, “You are no Rephaim.”

  Ittai thought, I wish you were right.

  Then he blacked out.

  When Ittai came back to consciousness, his bloody face was being wiped by a sniffling Ummi.

  “My sweet love. What happened?”

  Ittai groaned and pulled himself up to a sitting position against the center pole. “Sons of Rapha. I had something they wanted. But I would not give it up.”

  “What did you have?”

  “You would not understand.”

  “I want to understand. Please tell me.”

  “There is too much that you do not know. That I cannot tell you.”

  “But why, my love? Do you not trust me? I love you.”

  He paused. He could not say what he had to say. He swallowed with a dry throat. He struggled to get up with a few groans and a limp. He ushered her to the door.

  He croaked out, “I-I want you to leave.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because we are not going to marry. We are never going to marry.”

  She started to cry. She felt like she was being hit in the stomach by an iron ball. “Why do you say that, Ittai? What do you mean?”

  “We can never marry, because I am born of cursed blood.”

  “I do not understand.”

  He held up his hands and spread his fingers. She saw the scars on both hands. “I was born with six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot.”

  For the first time, she noticed his hands looked abnormal with only five fingers.

  He said, “I have tried to hide my true identity from everyone.” He looked into her confused eyes. “From you.”

  He paused to muster the courage to disclose his dark secret. To the one person whom he always thought could wash it away. Now, he knew nothing could save him.

  “My mother was a Rapha.” He hung his head in pain. “I am a Rapha.”

  “But you are not a giant.”

  “It does not matter. I am born of cursed blood and I will not allow that curse to continue. My lineage dies with me. Find someone else to love.”

  She stepped back away from him in shock.

  He looked into her eyes, trying to understand what she was feeling, what she was thinking. But all he saw was fear.

  Suddenly, she turned and ran out the door.

  Everything in his being screamed to call her back, to apologize to her and say he would never say such terrible things ever again. He hated himself for doing so. He hated himself for not doing so.

  He slammed the door shut and fell to the ground. He had never cried before in his entire life. But now everything in him came out in a flood. All his anger, all his sadness, every wrong he had suffered and every ounce of energy he had wasted trying to find redemption and make something useful out of his broken life. It was all a waste. A terrible waste. And now he had a broken heart.

  He was cursed. There was no hope for him.

  Chapter 26

  David watched his sheep under the early morning rising sun, but his mind was elsewhere. He thought of all the amazing happenings in his life in recent weeks and how quickly everything had happened. It was surely Yahweh’s hand.

  The day Jonathan brought him to play music for the king had changed his life with new purpose. He decided it must have been the purpose of the Seer’s anointing. He had quickly discovered the ally he had in Jonathan, an unusual royal heir of integrity and character.

  He had taken a liking to this man over twice his age. Jonathan had become his mentor, his best friend. They had seen something in each other that connected them. He was everything David wished to be. Jonathan was measured and temperate; David was passionate and unstable. Jonathan had a singularity of spiritual devotion; David struggled with a divided heart for Yahweh and for the flesh. Jonathan had courtly sophistication, David was a rustic. Jonathan had the wisdom of age, David had the recklessness of youth.

  Jonathan had taken David under his wing and schooled him in the politics of the palace. They spent many hours together at both work and leisure. He became David’s confidant. He even shared family secrets and advised David not to reveal his anointing until Yahweh himself chose the time. When Jonathan discovered David’s battle skills, he was impressed and persuaded his father to make David one of the king’s armor-bearers. When the king had one of his fits of madness, Jonathan would call upon David to play his lyre and soothe the beast.

  But the summer months were beginning and David needed to spend time back home with the flock before shearing. His three eldest brothers were called up for military service. The Philistines had encamped in Ephes-dammim in battle array and the Israelites stood opposed in the valley of the Terebinth. As David tended the flocks, he wondered what the plan of the pagan Philistines could be.

  But he did not think on it for long, because he was making his own plans for Michal when he returned to the court. He was best friends with Jonathan, but he had fallen in love with Michal. They stole every moment they could to be together. They would sing praises and hymns to Yahweh. She was enamored with his playing, and he was mesmerized by her voice. They felt as if their souls were one. Their bodies craved to consummate that oneness of spirit. The only problem was that David was a palace servant without noble status and would never be allowed to marry her. They were simply in two different worlds. And it was driving him crazy. He would do anything, anything to win her hand.

  This time, he had decided to wait on the Lord. He had made so many mistakes with young women in the past. He wanted to turn over a new leaf, and this time do it right. It made him seek Yahweh more earnestly. He would spend so much time and effort trying to seek Yahweh’s face that his knees would become bloody from scraping the ground, and his legs would lose their circulation.

  David felt like a hybrid, a man torn between heaven and earth. He desired the glory of Yahweh with all his soul, but he longed for the comfort of Michal with all his body. Could these two things be opposites? Or could they be united in one spiritual unity? He had never been married. He could not know. But he longed for it to be true. He longed to be one with both Michal and Yahweh.

  “David!” His father’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

  It was unusual for his father to come out to the pasture. He would normally send one of the children.

  “Yes, father?”

  “Up with yourself! I have an important task for you. I have a shipment of provisions to send to your brothers on the front lines. Parched grain and loaves, and I do not want you sneaking any of it for yourself, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, father.”

  “I want you to see if they are well. And I have some cheese to give the commander of their thousand. I want you to leave immediately.”

  “Yes, father.”

  David left the sheep with a keeper and took the provisions for his father.

  Chapter 27

  David arrived at the valley of the Terebinth, fifteen miles from Bethlehem, with his shipment of provisions. It was not uncommon for family members to send such care packages for the benefit of their beloved sons. David left the shipment with the keeper of the baggage and made his way through the ranks to greet his brothers, Eliab, Abinadab and Shammah.

  Shammah saw him first. “David!”

  Abinadab turned and saw him too.
They both rushed their baby brother and gave him bear hugs.

  Shammah said, “Have you brought us some vittles? The military food is abominable.”

  David said, “And some cheese to bribe your commander for favor.”

  They smiled.

  A call to arms interrupted them. A ram’s horn bellowed throughout the valley.

  “Is it battle?” asked David.

  “In a manner of speaking,” said Shammah. “Come and see.”

  David followed them to the front. As they walked, Shammah explained the strategic location of this valley in accessing the Israelite hill country. If the Philistines secured a victory here, they could strangle Saul’s stronghold of the region.

  The Israelites were encamped on one mountain and the Philistines on another mountain. Between them was the valley lined with Terebinth trees and a brook that ran through the valley center.

  In the empty valley, a single warrior bellowed out blasphemies. His voice could be heard loud and strong. David saw that he was a giant almost ten feet tall, with a shield-bearer before him.

  “WHY HAVE YOU COWARDLY HEBREWS DRAWN UP FOR BATTLE?”

  David was incensed. “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he taunts the armies of the living God?”

  “Their champion, Goliath of Gath,” said Shammah.

  Goliath continued his rant, “I DEFY THE RANKS OF ISRAEL THIS DAY! CHOOSE FOR YOURSELVES A CHAMPION TO FIGHT ME! IF HE WINS, THE PHILISTINES WILL BE YOUR SERVANTS. IF I WIN, YOU WILL BE OUR SERVANTS!”

  Abinadab muttered, “He has taunted us these forty days with the same challenge.”

  “Forty days?” said David. How had he failed to hear about it, he wondered. “Is there no one to stand up to this blasphemer?”

  Shammah snickered, “Easy for you to say from the comfort of your palace luxury.”

  Abinadab threw in, “The man who kills him, the king will laud with tax exemption and great riches.”