David Ascendant

by Brian Godawa

  Benaiah kept his eyes on those leonine beasts all the way back into Canaan. Keeping watch over them tired him out. But he knew that if he gave up his vigil, he would be in the most danger of them springing a trap.

  Joab and Abishai would tease him at inopportune moments.

  The two brothers perfected a mimicry of the growl of an Ariel. They would surprise Benaiah at random times by coming up behind him or hiding outside his tent. Sibbecai saw their relentless teasing but held back his support of Benaiah. The bodyguard could handle himself against such pranks.

  One night, Benaiah stood the late watch duty. He became alarmed when he saw Joab and Abishai approaching his outpost with stealth, looking around to make sure no one was following them.

  Joab spoke first in a whisper. “Benaiah, we want to apologize for relentlessly teasing you about the Lion Men. Your concerns are not entirely unfounded.”

  Abishai added, “Your dedication to David is truly admirable.”

  Joab continued, “In fact, we have begun to watch the Lion Men and we are beginning to share your concern.”

  Benaiah relaxed. Finally, he was being taken seriously.

  Abishai jumped in again, “But I think we have also discovered their weakness.”

  Benaiah’s interest was piqued. “What is it?”

  Abishai continued, “Well, because of their leonine nature, they have an intense sense of smell. We think that we have figured out how to overcome them if they ever do betray us.”

  “How?” asked Benaiah.

  “Shh,” said Joab. “Did you hear that?”

  They listened. There was rustling in the brush. They looked out and saw the tops of three lion manes approaching them. Benaiah gripped his sword. But Abishai held him. “Wait. We have this. We will show you what we mean.”

  Joab stepped out in front of Benaiah.

  When the lion manes were within a dozen feet, they stood up to reveal three growling Lion Men.

  Benaiah held his ram’s horn. “Let me call the alarm.”

  Abishai stopped him again. “There is no need. Watch Joab.”

  Joab turned his back to the men and squatted with a scrunched face. He then let loose a rip-roaring fart in the direction of the Lion Men. They coughed and then ran away into the brush yelping.

  Joab held his hands out as if solving the problem.

  Abishai said, “Their noses are just too sensitive.”

  Benaiah’s face went red with anger. He had been duped again. They had even gotten some of the Lion Men to join in on their charade. He would have slugged them for their prank, but they were both on the forest floor laughing so hard that Benaiah could not help but respond with a reluctant smile.

  When the brothers finally calmed down and got up, they looked at Benaiah. He glared back at them. “If you think I have changed my mind because of your childish natures, you will be sorely disappointed. My guard will not be let down, and one day, you may have me to thank for it, you jackals. Now get out of here and leave me in peace.”

  They slapped their brother in arms on the back and left him to stew in his humiliation.

  • • • • •

  Benaiah’s rotation on the night watch came round again. He stood watch on the eastern flank of David’s company. He stayed wide awake and alert. David’s band of Gibborim were hiding in the Forest of Hereth. Things had been quiet for the most part.

  Benaiah heard noise behind him. He turned to see four Lion Men of Moab stealthily approaching his outpost, like a pride of lions on the hunt. He did not see Joab or Abishai nearby, but he suspected this was another of their gags.

  He didn’t trust these fur balls. He drew his sword just in case.

  They all stopped about twenty feet from him. They sniffed the air. They obviously smelled something. Or was this going to be another fart joke?

  They growled softly, and crouched down, preparing to spring.

  This was no gag. Something was not right.

  Benaiah’s attention was distracted by another movement. Sibbecai the swordsman approached the Lion Men from behind. He had followed them.

  But the Moabites were all looking past Benaiah into the forest.

  Benaiah whirled around. He barely got his shield up in time. A javelin hit the shield with such force it threw him against a tree, embedding itself into the metal of the shield. It was a loop javelin thrown with a tremendous force.

  Benaiah received a concussion from the force of hitting the tree. He heard the sound of a large creature rushing at him from the forest.

  And it wasn’t an Ariel.

  A rushing dark shape resolved itself into a giant Rephaim. The dark-skinned Egyptian carried another javelin, ready to impale him.

  Just before the giant reached him, two Lion Men jumped out from both sides and intercepted the large attacker. They took him down into the brush in a flurry of fangs and claws.

  Benaiah’s head was splitting with pain. He was seeing double, but he was not about to let that stop him. He stood up, faltering a bit, but prepared to engage.

  Another giant came out of the trees at Benaiah’s right. But the four Lion Men jumped him and fought him off. It took all four of them. This monster seemed to have a supernatural presence surrounding him, a bodyguard of demons.

  Benaiah’s headache jarred his whole body. He dropped to one knee, trying to recover from dizziness. He looked up. A third giant swooped toward him with two large scimitars about to chop him in half.

  A hand yanked him back, out of the way before the blades could connect.

  It was Sibbecai, the swordsman.

  Sibbecai drew his own two swords. He smiled at the irony of facing an opponent with the same armament of double blades. Unfortunately, this opponent was more than his equal. Sibbecai looked up at a nine foot tall, eight hundred pound pile of bulk and brawn.

  The giant rumbled, “You are no match for a Son of Rapha,” and released a series of attacks with his two blades. Sibbecai was ready for it. He countered with blocks and parries that frustrated the giant and made him sloppy with rage.

  The rage distracted him from Benaiah, who had regained some of his strength and slipped behind the giant. The Israelite had pulled the javelin from his shield. He used it to pierce the Rapha’s kidney.

  The giant screamed out in pain.

  Sibbecai saw his opportunity and thrust both his swords into the giant’s sternum and up into his heart.

  The giant swung one of his blades and cut off Sibbecai’s head.

  Benaiah screamed his comrade’s name in horror.

  The Rapha fell to the ground with a gasp.

  The other two giants heard the yelp and saw their comrade fall. They knew they would be surrounded in moments by an army of gibborim, so they stopped their battle and fled into the woods, with the Lion Men chasing them.

  Benaiah knew he only had a few moments. He grabbed the giant and growled at him, “Who are the Sons of Rapha?”

  The giant grunted in pain and glared at Benaiah with a smirk.

  Benaiah demanded again, “Who are the Sons of Rapha?”

  He received no answer other than the last gasp of breath from the defiant Rapha as his life bled out onto the forest floor.

  Benaiah whispered, “May you rot where the worm does not die and the fire is not quenched.” He spit on the giant’s corpse.

  He looked over at Sibbecai’s body with deep pain. This warrior had saved his life, and now he was gone. It did not seem fair that so noble a man should die in so ignoble a way at the hand of a cursed seed. He placed the warrior’s head gently with the body in a macabre moment of orderliness.

  A hand on Benaiah’s shoulder brought him back. Ezer the Chief Ariel loomed over him. A few of the Lion Men had already returned from chasing the giants. All of them put their hands on Benaiah’s shoulders and back in solidarity with their comrade.

  No words were spoken. But there was a newfound brotherhood between them now. They had all saved Benaiah’s life, not just Sibbecai. He would not have been abl
e to face all three of those giants alone.

  They looked upon the dead Rapha. Ezer said, “It was a coordinated attack. They were trying to find a hole through our defenses.”

  Benaiah said, “Were you not here, they would have.”

  He looked up at his rescuers, and with a humbled voice, said, “Thank you. For saving my life.”

  “Sibbecai saved you. We only helped,” said Ezer softly.

  Benaiah had been a fool. He had just been rescued by the very ones he had trusted the least.

  He was grateful to be alive.

  Benaiah asked his two closest rescuers, “What are your names?”

  They responded, “Elzabad,” and “Machbannai.”

  Benaiah stood and sighed with relief before grasping wrists with the leonine men he had once distrusted so deeply. He faltered a bit. The splitting pain had not left his head.

  They heard the sound of someone arriving from camp. Jonathan ben Shimei broke out of the bush, his bow at the ready with an arrow nocked. He saw Benaiah alive and well. He saw the Lion Men. He saw the dead Rapha. He looked around, realizing he had missed the fight. He stomped the ground. “I want to kill a giant!”

  Benaiah and the others ignored him. They always ignored the Mouse, as they had nicknamed him. Benaiah said to Ezer, “We must alert David. And we must find out who these Sons of Rapha are.”

  Chapter 46

  Ba’alzebul smashed his fist down onto the altar of Dagon. It cracked in half. Chunks and dust went flying. The gods had just learned that the Rephaim Saph had been killed by David’s warriors.

  Ba’alzebul was angry and his strength was back. A mounting fear plagued Dagon that he could no longer control the mighty deity. Ba’alzebul had once ruled the pantheon. He had been humbled and now bore the name Son of Dagon, but he had regained his former strength. Dagon realized that it now simply remained for his rival to regain his power of place. Ba’alzebul could not just take an allotted territory, however. He had to earn it. Dagon had no idea how the other planned on doing so. He only assumed that Ba’alzebul was planning on doing so. Dagon would have to do something to keep his edge on the muscle-bound brute who thought of power but not of intrigue.

  Intrigue was Asherah’s specialty. Dagon feared that the two of them were in league together and had designs on his throne. As long as he was chief god of the Philistines, he maintained his edge. If he could extend his power over the Hebrews, he would consolidate his territory and power over all of Canaan. He would have to act fast, if he wanted to stay ahead of this deadly duo. He had been planning this for some time and now was his chance.

  Asherah said, “We are down to only four of our original Rephaim assassins. David’s forces are too large now. He has too many gibborim with him.”

  “And Lion Men of Moab,” added Dagon. “The Sons of Rapha and their giant battalion will never penetrate that army. They are too mighty.”

  Ba’alzebul interrupted their gloom. “Unless we take away David’s allotted protection.”

  The others looked at him darkly. It was the last ditch option they had discussed in the past but had always avoided because of the danger involved.

  Ba’alzebul explained, “We have been on the run all these generations from the archangels who seek to bind us in the earth. We hide like cockroaches in the dark. We are vulnerable when separated. But stronger when united.”

  “You are right,” said Asherah. “It is time we turn the tables and try to capture the guardian prince of Israel, Mikael.”

  Dagon countered. “But it has only been done once before, in primeval days when we were at our strongest. And that with the weakest of the archangels. Even then, it backfired on our predecessors. Look where they are now.”

  He referred to the time before the Flood when Uriel had been captured by Inanna and Anu, the mightiest of their number. It did not last for long. Anu and Inanna had been bound beneath the earth.

  Ba’alzebul said, “If for a limited time we could detain just that one guardian, just him alone, the Chosen Seed would not have the covering of heaven. Then our Sons of Rapha could strike, through stealth or war.”

  Dagon concluded, “We will need all the help we can get. Molech, Chemosh, Resheph and Qeteb.”

  “Of course,” replied Asherah.

  Dagon gave a dark expectant stare at Asherah and added, “Leviathan?”

  She was Lady Asherah of the Sea. One of her many skills over the waters was the ability to use magical incantations to call upon Leviathan, the seven-headed offspring of Rahab, the sea dragon of chaos. Leviathan was not tamable, but it could be partially directed through spells, especially when it had to do with destruction. She had once called up the serpent to wreak punishment upon her own city of Sidon for insolence of its governing authorities. Dozens of ships were destroyed and hundreds of lives lost in the furious storm of punishment.

  The rulers never got out of line again.

  Asherah replied to Dagon, “Be careful what forces of chaos you seek to call upon, Dagon. They may not behave to your liking.”

  Ba’alzebul threw in, “There is one ally whose help we have all failed to appreciate fully.” They looked expectantly at him.

  “Nimrod.”

  “He is hardly more tamable than Leviathan,” said Dagon.

  “But he is in a most advantageous position,” said Asherah. “His possession of the king of Israel is a dagger of division in the heart of Mikael’s defenses.”

  She turned to the others with a smile. “My fellow deities, let us go catch ourselves an archangel.”

  Chapter 47

  Guardian archangels are fond of staying in the background and out of sight in the temporal world, until they are needed to protect their ward. Unlike Uriel’s cocksure flamboyance, Mikael preferred quiet understatement. He was the prince of Israel, a most holy calling. It was all the more reason for him to downplay his presence. He did not want to draw attention where it was unwanted. The Canaanites and their gods were already in perpetual war with the Israelites, seeking to exterminate them all and drive them into the sea.

  The Philistines were the strongest of these threats. But the most dangerous hazard was the most intimate one. Because the evil spirit of Nimrod had sunk his claws into Saul’s soul, Mikael had been distracted and stretched thin, following David in his months of fleeing from Saul’s pursuit. Mikael’s attention was divided between his watchfulness over the Chosen Seed David, and his chosen people Israel, led by a king trying to kill David.

  David stayed constantly on the move, because he was not always welcomed where he sojourned as a fugitive from the king. Three thousand soldiers accompanied Saul, chasing David and his six hundred gibborim. David had run from the Forest of Hereth, to the city of Keilah, to the wildernesses of Ziph and Maon, where he currently hid. And all along, David sought to communicate to Saul that he was not an enemy of the king. It was all to no avail, as the king remained relentless in his mad hunt.

  Then an event occurred that changed the course of everyone’s plans: a Philistine attack on Gibeah, the seat of Israel’s power. Just as Saul was closing in on David in the wilderness of Maon, the king received word of the approaching forces of all five cities of the Philistines upon Gibeah. He immediately left his manhunt to return to Gibeah and repel the enemy’s advance. David and his followers escaped capture. Their location became known as “the Rock of Escape.”

  David settled in Maon for a time, knowing Saul would not be back too quickly from his latest campaign against the Philistines.

  • • • • •

  Nabal the Calebite was one of the wealthiest landowners in Maon. He pastured his large flocks of thousands of sheep and goats in Carmel near Hebron. He would use his position of power on the local city councils to secure the best grazing land for his sheep to the detriment of others. When the time for shearing came, he used bribes to gain first place of sale over lesser shepherds. He purchased his own bodyguard from fear that others would seek revenge against his financial bullying. He had becom
e a recluse and grew obese through indulgence.

  His wife, Abigail, the most desired woman in the entire area, had a buxom and mature form. Her deep red hair enticed men, her ocean blue eyes melted them in their tracks. She was a loyal and virtuous woman as well. Unfortunately, in his paranoid megalomania, Nabal could not believe this. He restricted her to the mansion home of stone and wood he had built on his hilltop residence. He treated her like a dog.

  One day, Nabal welcomed ten messengers from the camp of Israelite riff raff who had been sojourning in the area for some time. Nabal had used some spies to find out as much as he could about their leader, the rebel who was on the run from King Saul. Though Nabal detested the king as well, he did not consider these unsavory vagabonds as his allies. Yes, their presence had reduced the amount of criminal activity in the area, but he knew it was all pretense. He knew it was only a matter of time before they came looking for him to try to steal his wealth—just like all the others. That time had arrived. And it was on the eve of a feast day no less. How uncouth of them.

  The ten messengers looked like warriors more than messengers, so Nabal surrounded himself with his bodyguard of twenty men to receive the visitors.

  “Shalom be upon your house, Nabal of Maon,” said the lead messenger. “My name is Joab, and this is my brother Abishai. We serve our lord, David ben Jesse.” Abishai nodded respectfully, as did the nine others with them.

  Nabal eyed them suspiciously. The leader named Joab had a nasty scar down his forehead and cheek that made him appear like a devious wolf.

  Joab continued, “Our lord understands that you are shearing your sheep now in Carmel.”

  Nabal replied with sarcasm, “I can readily see your lord takes such dedicated interest in my property. So important is it to him that he sends his warriors instead of messengers.”

  “We are warriors, it is true,” said Joab. “But we come in peace. We have watched over your shepherds for these past weeks and have done them no harm. Indeed, we have protected them from hostile outsiders, so that not a sheep has been taken.”