People of the Tower (Ark Chronicles 4)

by Vaughn Heppner

  The elders and their wives were the first to witness it. Soon, others visited the palace, come to see the wonderful sight. Horns blew as they entered the throne room, as Mighty Men bellowed, “Kneel before the King of Babel!”

  On a raised dais, sat King Nimrod, with his cheetah Azel, collared and leashed, sitting beside him. Red curtains hung behind the king. Mighty Men of valor in fish-scale armor stood below the dais. None of that created the awe. The throne itself did.

  The king had saved the bones of the dragon he’d slain years ago. Now those bones were cunningly woven together into a throne. At the top of the backrest perched the skull. Rubies winked in the eye-sockets. Ivory teeth, longer than the original, had been screwed into the mouth. The real dragon teeth adored the necks of selected Mighty Men. To finish the effect, the king wore a crown with a single jutting horn, and he wore a robe of silver ermine.

  Nimrod the Dragon-Slayer, the Mighty Hunter, the Killer of Black Mane the Cave Lion, He Who had Shot the Leviathan and the Champion Wrestler sat before them in majesty. He presided as he sat on the Dragonbone Throne.

  2.

  News of Nimrod’s crowning shocked Europa. It did so almost as much as when, long ago in Antediluvian times, her father had lost his crown, castle and his life to invading brigands. She should have seen this coming—just as long ago the growing depredations of the brigands had foretold their sudden boldness.

  What didn’t make sense to her was the strength of the Hamites. At least, it didn’t make sense in lieu of Noah’s curse. Japheth used to tell her the curse encompassed all the sons of Ham, not just Canaan. Now she was no longer convinced of that.

  She strolled along the Tigris in the company of granddaughters as they gathered flowers. Among them walked Hilda, the daughter of Beor. Hilda wore a gown, not the knee-length dress that her father allowed her when she drove his chariot.

  Hilda would have been good for Gog.

  Ah, Europa had had plans for him. That one had the bearing of a king. The daughter of Beor—there was something heroic about her. From her womb would be born kings and princes. Yet in the end, Hilda had been the death of Gog, the death of her favorite great-grandson. It hadn’t been the girl’s fault, other than that she was Beor’s daughter. Yes, that had proved fatal because Nimrod hated Beor.

  Europa recalled warning Beor about Semiramis. Like most warriors, he refused to heed wisdom in matters of the heart. It was a common failing, and she wondered why it was so easy for her to see who should marry whom. It appalled her the way Ruth and Rahab allowed their granddaughters and great-granddaughters to marry whomever they wished. There seemed to be no policy from those two, no long-range goals. Yet could she say that it had helped the Japhethites what she did?

  Europa drew her cloak a little tighter.

  Nimrod had been crowned king. Cunning, ambitious Semiramis was his wife. As bad, many of the best Japhethites had already gone to Babel. It only made sense then for Japheth to unite with the Shemites and the handful of Hamites here. It was either that, or go join everyone else in Babel.

  She brooded, trying to unravel Ham’s real reason for fleeing here. He claimed Noah had told him to escape from Babel while he could. She didn’t believe that, of course. There had to be another reason, something bold and foolhardy.

  How could she salvage events from this disaster of civilization being the product of the Hamites and not of the Japhethites? Which of her offspring had the qualities of king, of royalty?

  Like cards of old, she fanned the personalities in her mind. She wondered again about Odin, who had left Babel and traveled here. He was a grandson of Ashkenaz, from the line of Gomer. Once, Odin had been a Hunter, a captain among them. He had sailed to Dilmun, the Blessed Land, rescuing Gilgamesh and Opis. It was a romantic tale. Even before that, Odin had trekked to the Far North, to the land of snow and ice, the land of giant creatures. He was an adventurous lad, and he pined for Hilda, people said.

  Europa studied Hilda as the girl frolicked with her great-granddaughters. They laughed while they picked flowers, stuffing them into baskets. They didn’t understand that marriage was all-important. Upon them and their choices rested humanity’s future. Would it be a future ruled by Hamites, Shemites or Japhethites? The way events moved now…

  Europa grimaced. Hilda, they said, had spurned Odin. And that brute, Beor, distrusted anything that had a taint of Babel, especially anyone once a friend of Nimrod. Still, Hilda and Odin…

  Europa tried to envision what sort of sons and daughters the two might have. The idea had merit, possibilities.

  She picked a flower, sniffing it, setting it in her own basket. Somehow, she had to gather the shreds of a failed policy and retie them. She needed something to withstand the kingship of Nimrod the Mighty Hunter, ruler of Babel. It was either that, or she must go to the city to try to influence events from the heart of civilization.

  3.

  With the rise of the Tower, new inventions or ways of doing things increased. Lud discovered the first synthetic substance made deliberately by man. It was done to imitate the blue of lapis lazuli.

  First, the desired object, usually beads to make into a necklace, was shaped in talc-stone. Then it was dusted with powdered azurite or malachite and heated in a closed container in a kiln. The result coated the object with a skin of blue-green glass, faience.

  Nimrod said that hard work and sacrifice pleased Jehovah just as much as Noahic purity. Suppose someone drank too much, cheated on his wife or knocked the tooth out of a friend. Naturally, one shouldn’t do these things, but Nimrod said he spoke honestly, practically, how things really were instead of how they ought to be. Such “sins” happened to everyone. What good came then from fretting and worrying that Jehovah, frowning down from heaven, might snatch up his lightning bolt and spear?

  “No,” Nimrod said. “Sacrifice in the temple, in cost to the sin, and your soul will be cleansed of the evil. Hard work in Tower construction will also pay for many wrongdoings.”

  The idea took hold. People flocked to the temple to rid themselves of their sins.

  Kush, as High Priest, soon gained in power.

  Nimrod pondered that, and soon maneuvered Kush out of his position of High Priest. The Mighty Hunter took the office as his own, becoming the world’s first Priest-King.

  A mere priest now, known also as the Stargazer, Kush retaliated by letting Nimrod’s horoscope become public: that within the month, Beor and his comrades would lie dead upon the plain of Nineveh. Kush predicted that soon Babel’s king would be victorious and bring all humanity under his sway.

  It began a terrible chain of events.

  4.

  Like a menagerie-housed panther, Nimrod paced in his bedchamber. Lanterns burned while Semiramis lounged on the feather-soft bed.

  “Do thoughts of facing Beor frighten you?” she asked.

  For an answer, Nimrod’s vine baton smacked the flesh of his palm.

  “Is it Shem then that you fear to meet, as he gives you harsh words from Jehovah?”

  Nimrod continued pacing.

  Semiramis arched her eyebrows. “I hesitate to call this fear. But I know no other name for what you’re exhibiting.”

  “It’s fear,” Nimrod said.

  “You admit it?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Because you’re out of the habit,” she said. “Because you’re so busy playing the invincible warrior, that you have forgotten genuine emotions.” Semiramis appeared troubled as she studied him. “I don’t understand why you haven’t readied the army. Kush read your horoscope and predicted total success. If we fail, it’s his head that will be lost.”

  Nimrod snorted. “You misjudge my fear. Certainly the people will follow me against Shem and Assur.”

  “Then why do you worry?”

  “The last time we marched to war, our mistake was in taking those I hadn’t rigorously trained. The so-called warriors balked at the first check, and their fear infected the others. This time, I’ll only t
ake the Mighty Men. Instead of cowering, they will vie for honor and spoils.”

  “That’s what you really want, isn’t it?” Semiramis asked. “The spoils: young virgins to ravish?”

  Nimrod ignored the barb. “When Noah appeared in our camp and lifted his staff, he caused the thunderclouds to roll.”

  “Everyone’s belly turned to water and all knees gave out.”

  “Not everyone bowed,” Nimrod said.

  “What did that avail you to stand against him?” She laughed. “Now I understand your fear. It’s Noah.”

  Nimrod shook his head.

  “Look me in the eye and tell me that Noah doesn’t frighten you.”

  “Noah is a man, an old man. A single spear-thrust will kill him like any other. But his Jehovah…”

  Semiramis frowned.

  “You still don’t understand,” Nimrod said. “Noah’s Jehovah flooded the world, destroying all who opposed Him.”

  “So we’ve been told.”

  “So it happened. Only a fool wouldn’t accept the obvious.”

  The mockery drained from Semiramis. “Speak no more about Jehovah and His awful wrath.”

  “Do you find it frightening?”

  “Don’t you?” she asked.

  “Ah,” he said. “Now you begin to understand my dilemma. Bel has made grandiose promises. Many of them have come true. But this last one…to confront… For the moment, I’ll call them the holy people.”

  “Bel says we’re the chosen ones, the holy people.”

  “Bel says many things that ring false.” Nimrod brooded. “I have many gifts and abilities, but I am not holy. For that matter, my love, nothing could possibly make you holy.”

  Anger contorted her features.

  “Think carefully, Semiramis. We’ve both heard about the bene elohim, how at the beginning of the Deluge, Jehovah’s angels dragged them to off-world dungeons.”

  “I’ve seen and heard enough of your worry. What I want to know is this: who is Bel?”

  “That is my quandary,” Nimrod said. “Is he a god, as he claims, or a rebellious angel who flails against his Maker? The question has plagued me until I wonder if I have the courage to dare the final challenge.”

  “To face Noah’s Jehovah?”

  Nimrod laughed darkly. “No. Whether I dare to demand an audience with Bel’s superior and find out if we truly have a chance at ultimate victory. You know his name. He is the Light-Bearer, Lucifer, the Dark Prince…Satan.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I will no longer fight blindly. Through Noah, Jehovah cursed Canaan and probably the rest of us as well. My father refused to buckle to that and he taught me likewise. Slave is it? Never! But ruler, master, king over all. Bel has played upon that. He is clever, and we too have used him as the Antediluvians must have used the bene elohim. I will not disparage Bel’s gifts of magic, astrology and Antediluvian history that Noah and his sons have hidden from us. Now, however, before I make the final play, now I will demand an audience with the terrible Serpent of Eden, Leviathan, he named the Great Dragon.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “Why do you think I hesitate? I tremble when I think upon my plan. Yet…”

  “You are the Mighty Hunter,” she said.

  “I am Nimrod, which is to say the greatest of men.” He set down his baton and picked up his sword belt, buckling it around his waist. “I will speak with Canaan, chief of the magicians.” Nimrod paused at the door. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  5.

  Nimrod and Canaan had exhausted the topic. Instinctively, they moved into the temple where Rahab had once lain. Candles flickered around the altar, causing the paintings to shimmer. Angels with flaming swords vied against eagle-winged bulls. Childlike imps except for their old-man faces danced with satyrs. The newest addition stood man-tall in the corner: a brass idol of Bel, with massive shoulders and outsized hands held palms upward.

  Canaan touched the brass hands. “A baby, freely given and consecrated, preferably a firstborn son, must lie here when the palms glow red hot.”

  “Human sacrifice, Uncle?” Nimrod asked.

  In the candlelight, Canaan’s lean features seemed sinister. He wore his costly red robe and he had painted green malachite around his eyes.

  “I haven’t the time or the baby,” Nimrod said.

  “Then I guarantee nothing,” Canaan said, “not even that Bel will speak through me as he has in the past.”

  Canaan prayed often and alone in the temple, seeking contact with the gods. In his most mystical moments, he claimed to speak as a medium for them.

  Nimrod rapped a knuckle against the brass idol, indicating its hollowness. “That is the extent of your wizardly lore? Scorch a baby in the idol’s hands or you cannot be my medium?”

  “O terrible and mighty Sovereign of Babel. The keys to power aren’t easy and light, but dark and sinister. The gods recognize that all want power but that only a few have the will to gain it. The dark path lies as a gate, stopping those who lack the resolve.”

  “This is your wisdom?” scoffed Nimrod.

  “Who else has turned a staff into a snake? Who else gains answers from the very air when asked on moonless nights?”

  “I’m beginning to think that asking for your help was a mistake,” Nimrod said. “Watch me. I will show you magic that will blast your theories to dust. And I’ll do it without sacrificing babies.”

  Nimrod tossed his head like a lion and he put his hands on his hips. “Listen to me Bel, god of Babel. Tonight you must speak with me as you did on the banks of the Euphrates. Kush the Stargazer says that now is the time to attack Shem and Assur. But I don’t believe it, and even if it’s true, I have no intention of doing anything until you answer my questions.”

  “No, Sire,” Canaan said, tugging Nimrod’s sleeve. “You’ll anger Bel and bring wrath upon us.”

  Nimrod shook him off. “Do you hear that, Bel? My uncle says I’m angering you. I say he doesn’t understand what truly transpires. You need me. Me! Nimrod the Mighty Hunter, like unto a god. The stars tell me to subdue those who dare stand in the way of universal unity. The last time we did that, Noah advanced against us. With a gesture, he stole our army’s wits. How do I know that won’t happen again? How do I know you have the power to do as you promised?”

  A sound like a rushing wind stilled Nimrod’s speech. The idol’s eyes blazed as if with life.

  “Nimrod, Nimrod, why seek me this way?” spoke the idol, although its lips never moved nor did its brass eyes blink.

  “I play for the highest stakes,” Nimrod said. “And that troubles me, for I don’t yet know enough.”

  “Seek not to rise above your station, Mortal.”

  “That isn’t the way to speak to me, like unto a god. We are allies.”

  The idol’s eyes burned brightly.

  Canaan fell to his knees, bowing and throwing up his hands. “Mercy, O Bel, god of the sun. Have mercy on us.”

  Nimrod loosened his cloak as heat radiated from the idol. “Slay me if you can. But do not think to frighten me with a little light and heat.”

  The eyes dimmed until they only seemed like coals.

  “Thank you, Lord Bel,” whimpered Canaan. “Thank you, thank you. Forgive us, I beg. Please, do not hold this against us.”

  Nimrod booted his uncle so the old man sprawled him onto the floor. “Quit simpering. Stand up like a man.”

  Canaan groveled before the idol.

  “Stand up!” roared Nimrod, drawing his sword. “Stand up or I’ll kill you this instant.”

  Canaan scrambled to his feet, as he stared at Nimrod in terror.

  “Stand behind me, Uncle. I’ll shield you from Bel.”

  Canaan glanced at the idol before hurrying behind his nephew.

  “Hear me, Bel,” Nimrod said. “I would speak with your lord.”

  The idol remained silent.

  Nimrod marched to the idol, using the sword pommel to strike the bronze chest. “I
demand an audience with Lucifer.”

  “You dare to—”

  Nimrod struck again, so the idol clanged hollowly. “I will not bow to anyone, man, devil or god. Yes! I dare, for I am like a god. I dare to challenge Jehovah. First, I want to know the truth. I demand to speak with my chief ally and benefactor.”

  “I speak for him, Mighty Hunter.”

  “And I’m telling you that’s not good enough. Tomorrow, atop the Tower, with Semiramis, Kush and Canaan, I demand an audience with the Dark Lord.”

  “To what end?”

  “To learn the truth,” Nimrod said.

  “The Tower has not yet been completed.”

  “I know. I’ve pushed hard like you commanded, building in a frenzy, making all Babel boil with activity. But the stars say that now is the time to attack the remnant. Before I attempt it a second time, I want direct counsel from Lucifer. He will have to be content with a partly finished Tower this time, or I will have to wait until the stars realign themselves once more.”

  There was silence… silence… “Tomorrow, atop the Tower, you will speak with Lucifer.” Then the eyes quit shining and they became as before.

  “Bel?” Nimrod asked, but he knew the presence had departed.

  Sheathing his sword, he took a rag from his pocket and wiped his face. His hand shook. He clenched it and willed it to be still. Then he turned to the trembling magician. “That, my uncle, is how you take the quick path to power.”

  6.

  Four of them stood at the base of the Tower. The stars winked on this cloudless night. During the day, laborers had pitched a purple tent at the apex and struggled up the stairs with a heavy brass shrine. Now the Tower plaza was empty and the steps awaited them like a path to doom.

  Nimrod glanced back at the others.

  “What possessed you to demand an audience with Satan?” Kush asked. He wore his priestly clothes. “And why do you need me?”