Noah Primeval (Chronicles of the Nephilim)

by Brian Godawa

  Lugalanu’s father, the previous priest-king of Erech, had died not long before, leaving his son as the new ruler of the city, called the Big Boss. Lugalanu’s name meant “leader of Anu,” and his job name reflected his job. His responsibilities included not merely the overseeing of ceremonial and priestly activities but the civil governing of the city and the military defense of the outlying area. This combined religious and civic responsibility sometimes wore him out. He had even pleaded with the father god Anu to divide the duties between two leaders, one civil and one religious, but Anu told him it was not yet to be. Concentrated power was always more efficient at getting things accomplished, and Anu had a lot to accomplish with his priest-king.

  The positive result of such multiple responsibilities was a certain breadth of wisdom. And wisdom made Lugalanu a good ruler. He had studied some of the dark secrets of the gods, and he was trained in the art of leadership and war. He pitied his people and sought their good, even if they did not understand that good, and the gods richly rewarded him. He had everything he wanted in this world of power and privilege — except a wife. Oh, he had concubines plenty. His nights were filled with orgies and erotic encounters to satisfy his every lustful desire. What he longed for was to be known, to make a true connection with another human being, to have a queen who would rule by his side. But how could the supreme human ruler of the city ever find a woman he could trust amidst this crowd of sycophants, manipulators, and usurpers?

  Such thoughts fluttered through his mind as Lugalanu passed into the palace area. His royal robes flowed behind him as he whisked over mosaic floors and engraved walls of brick. Palace guards stiffened to attention at the sight of him.

  He was pure royalty, a youthful three hundred years old, muscular, and handsome with his regal oblong cranium. All the servants of the gods and their entourage practiced head binding. It expressed devotion to the deities. Infants were taken early and their skulls bound with straps until they protruded like an extended egg. As the infant’s skull matured and hardened, it maintained its oblong shape permanently.

  Lugalanu was completely hairless, like all royal servants. Not a hair on their heads, not an eyebrow or a single nose hair was allowed. It was a sign of perfection to transcend humanity by freeing oneself from the most mammalian of physical traits, hair. It made one look more like the sleek hairless gods he worshipped.

  Lugalanu marched through the outer court of the palace, striding past lines of bird-men soldiers. These chimeras with bodies of men and heads of hawks and falcons stood at perfect attention, motionless as statues. Their stoic rigidity masked the savage brutality of fierce warriors, created by the sorceries of the gods to build an army for conquest. But the bird-men were a mere trifle compared to the apex of the gods’ creativity: the creatures which Lugalanu now approached at the doorway of the inner court.

  The gigantic doors loomed over Lugalanu’s head. They were ten cubits tall, two and half times the size of the largest man, made of the mightiest cedar and inlaid with gold. Guarding either side of the gateway were two immense Nephilim.

  These Nephilim were giant warriors eight to nine cubits tall, nearly as tall as the inner court doors, demigods created by the mating of the divine Sons of God with the human daughters of men. They were the personal royal guard of deity. Their bodies were covered in occultic tattoos used in magic. They had an extra digit on their hands and feet for a total of twelve fingers and twelve toes. No one on earth had seen anything like their armor, coverings made of a light metallic alloy unknown to man. The Nephilim were also called the Seed of Nachash, titans of war that could not easily be defeated by man born of woman. From the perspective of the gods, they were a strategic achievement of intermingling the human and the divine. From the perspective of Elohim, they an evil corruption of creation. They struck terror into the hearts of everyone who saw them, including Lugalanu. Though they seemed to defer to his authority, he could never quite bring himself to look them in the eye. He stared blankly at the floor ahead of him and continued his purposeful march.

  Lugalanu passed the giants into the inner court, the doors closing behind him like a barrier of magic. He paused to take a deep breath before looking up. This moment always astonished him. The most beautiful atrium ever conceived by the mind of deity lay before him. The vast space measured seventy cubits long and forty cubits high, a man-made paradise. It hosted a mixture of architecture sculpted by the most trained of slave craftsmen, and flora cultivated by the most practiced of horticulturalists. As Lugalanu proceeded down the path toward the throne room, a flurry of doves flew out of the foliage around him past the brick columns into the vaulted ceiling above, a heaven on earth. Gemstones glittered everywhere, embedded in the marble: lapis lazuli, sapphire, beryl, topaz, and amethyst. His own adjacent courtroom as priest-king, though full of its own luxuries, looked like a poor imitation of this chamber.

  The smell of exotic incense burning on braziers filled his nostrils, as Lugalanu approached the throne room. He saw the shimmering curtains to the throne room were pulled back to display the forms of Anu and Inanna seated on gem-laden thrones. Two large crossbred sphinx-like creatures that the gods called aladlammu, guarded the pair. One had the body of a bull, the other of a lion, and both the bearded heads of a human being. They were born of the gods’ magical warping of creation. The stone sculptures outside the palace depicted this pair of living breathing monstrosities. The sight of them sent a shudder through Lugalanu. Their penetrating eyes followed his every move with sentinel alertness.

  Anu and Inanna silently watched Lugalanu pour out his libation of blood into crystal chalices on the altar. Lugalanu then genuflected and waited for their command.

  The gods lounged resplendent in their royal finery. When standing, they towered well over five and a third cubits, much more than Lugalanu’s own four cubits. Their eyes shimmered with blue lapis lazuli reptilian irises. Their tongues split lizard-like. Despite their androgynous appearance, Inanna dressed the part of a goddess. They had elongated heads, which the head-binding of their servants sought to mimic. Anu and Inanna would tolerate nothing less than human attendants molded into their likeness. They both wore the horned headdress of deity common throughout the region. Both wore royal robes created from the feathers of vultures.

  Inanna cultivated a flamboyance that set her apart from Anu. She wore heavy makeup and pierced her body all over with rings, studs, spikes and other garish ornaments. Her nose, eyebrows, down her arms, and even her intimate parts often hosted these symbols of the forced pain that she pleasured in. She also gloried in outrageous outfits of opulence and ostentation as a display of her ironic status as goddess of sex and war. This day, she was more restrained with her red leather and chains of bondage and domination.

  The skin of the gods appeared smooth, but Lugalanu knew that close up fine subtle serpentine scales that sparkled in the light covered them, producing a visible aura of constant radiant luminescence. Many described this radiance in terms of beryl, crystal or shining bronze. When their passions flared for good or bad, their shining would increase in brilliance, giving the impression of flashes of lightning. Because of this, they were called Shining Ones.

  Lugalanu could always count on Anu to have a certain detached playfulness about him, as if he enjoyed being deity and played up the formalities of royalty with a sardonic loftiness. Inanna, on the other hand, was unpredictable and dangerous. She had a violent temper because everyone always seemed to be in the way of her accomplishing her plans. She would instantly kill servants who made mistakes in her presence. She might smite even those who gave her gaudy appearance a strange look. Lugalanu sought to ingratiate himself to them at every opportunity.

  “My priest-king, Lugalanu, lord of the city, how dost thou fare?” pronounced Anu with a touch of playful overstatement in his voice.

  “Well, my lord Anu, king of gods,” Lugalanu responded, promptly followed by an obeisance to Inanna. “Queen of heaven, my worship.”

  “Up, up. Wh
at do you want?” blurted Inanna.

  Lugalanu straightened up quickly and replied, “I have intelligence from one of our pazuzu scouts of a human tribe of nomads in the great cedar forest.”

  “Well, go slay them,” she snorted.

  Anu stepped in. “We want loyal, willing subjects, not rebels of insurrection, Inanna.”

  They argued about this frequently. Anu knew that Inanna wanted to eliminate all the remaining human tribes who worshipped Elohim. But he thought they would accomplish their purposes more effectively if they concentrated on defiling the human bloodline as a way to thwart Elohim’s plans for a kingly seed.

  It frustrated Inanna to no end that she had to submit to Anu’s kingship. Ever since her colossal failure in the war of the titans, called the Titanomachy, she had been demoted from co-regent with him to his consort so he could keep an eye on her. She had massive scars on her back to remind her of the consequences of insubordination. She reined herself in with calculated self-interest.

  Lugalanu curried the Queen’s favor, “My lord, I humbly defer to her highness. Every rogue human tribe is a possible fulfillment of the revelation.”

  Anu bristled with annoyance. “The Revelation,” he snorted contemptuously, conveying the impression to the human that he did not believe it. But he did believe it. He sickened of the dread that seized everyone when this revelation business was brought up. Fear was healthy; dread was self-destructive.

  “Ah yes, the Revelation,” Inanna shot back. “A ‘Chosen Seed’ who will end the rule of the gods. Are you not concerned, lord? We are among those gods who rule. And you are the head of the pantheon, the high and mighty one.” She matched Anu’s annoyance with sarcasm. “Unless you think you have nothing to lose.”

  She knew how he would respond. For the hundredth time, he said, “If they worship us, then we have no concern, and are free to use them as slave labor for our kingdom.”

  The gods of the pantheon kept hidden from Lugalanu and most humans their real identities and goals. Anu’s real name was Semjaza, and Inanna’s, Azazel. These divinities were not gods like Elohim. They were in fact the Sons of God who rebelled from Elohim’s divine council that surrounded his very throne.

  Elohim himself sat on the high throne, the Creator and Lord of all. Though mortal eyes could not see him, he was visible in his vice-regent, the Son of Man, The Angel of the Lord, who mediated and led God’s heavenly host. The members of the host were the Sons of God, or Bene Elohim, ten thousand times ten thousand of his Holy Ones who deliberated with the Almighty and would carry forth his judgments — except those who had fallen.

  Two hundred of them had rebelled and fallen. They were called “Watchers.” By masquerading as gods of the land, they sought to usurp the throne of Elohim and draw human worship away from the Creator. To further enslave the sons of men in idolatry, they had revealed unholy secrets of sorceries, fornications, and war. Enoch had pronounced judgment upon them in faraway days, but the manifestation of that judgment had not yet fallen upon the Watchers. The fullness of their iniquity was not yet complete.

  Elohim had created mankind as his representative image on earth, to rule in his likeness. If the fallen Sons of God could transform the image of God into their image, their revenge would be almost complete. By mixing the human line of descent with their own, they could stop the bloodline of the promised King from bringing forth its fruit, and thereby win the war of the Seed of Nachash with the Seed of Havah.

  Anu had a mellower side that Inanna lacked. He preferred to keep humans alive to serve him rather than destroy them. It was all a matter of perspective. He believed wisdom dictated that his own interests be portrayed as compassion to the humans. Perhaps they would even one day love him instead of fear him. Was this not what it was like to be Elohim?

  Lugalanu interrupted Anu’s thoughts. “These nomads killed our scouts. They are ruthless savages.”

  Anu responded, “I too would kill those ugly little beasts if they were sniffing around my residence.”

  Inanna snorted with disapproval but refused to keep fighting. She would choose her battles. This was not one of them.

  “Meet with the tribal leaders and allow them every opportunity to submit,” Anu decreed.

  Inanna’s ire went up. “And if they do not?”

  “Then enforce the will of the gods.” He was not about to appear weak. His patience only went so far.

  Lugalanu bowed low and backed away from their presence. He wondered if he had kept a proper balance of flattery for Inanna without disrespect for Anu’s supremacy.

  When the human was gone, Inanna grinned with delight to herself. Her vampiric fangs glistened red as she guzzled the blood offering with satisfaction. Perhaps she had not lost this battle after all.

  Chapter 3

  Noah, Lemuel and the others trudged into the camp after their pazuzu hunt. Noah hoped that the evening feast would distract the tribe’s attention from the somber faces of the hunting party. The news would not go over well with the community. They had been discovered, and while they could not be sure that the pazuzu escaped to deliver the information, they had to consider it a strong possibility. They would have to discuss it with the elders tonight. Even if the pazuzu did not make it back to the city, its disappearance would eventually bring more scouts to the area.

  The camp nestled in the thick cover of the great cedar forest. Ancient trees blocked much of the light, but they also obscured the view of hostile airborne eyes. Old fallen trees provided dry wood to minimize smoke. Tents and other shelters spread over the large encampment with plenty of camouflage to conceal their presence. The livestock of sheep, goats and donkeys were penned off to the east face as an early warning of arrivals from the river cities. The middle of the camp vibrated with mothers boiling soups over low fires, children playing and giggling, and elders cleaning up loose ends.

  These were a happy people who served Elohim. Since they had become nomads, they had seen the wonders of a world so much bigger than they had imagined as city dwellers just a generation ago. Weathering snowstorms in the north, surviving the waterless places of the desert, hunting mountain wildlife. They had been at their current forest location for some time now and had become familiar with all its rhythms and cycles, integrating themselves into it all with a confident caretaker’s dominion. They could think like deer, hide like foxes, hunt like bears and fight like lions.

  Noah nodded silently to his companions and turned toward his personal encampment. Though he was the tribe’s patriarch, his tents were no more than appropriate for a family of his size: one goatskin tent for his wife Emzara and himself, one to the side for his children, and one on the other side for his parents, Lamech and Betenos. They lived with his grandfather, Methuselah. Noah detested the arrogance of royalty and sought to lead by example and merit rather than through power and station. He would not live with special privileges. He would not ask sacrifice of his people that he would not himself also give.

  Noah went first to check on his parents. He loved his father and mother deeply. They had raised him with a stern but steady love. Though they were well over six hundred and sixty years old – Noah lost count – they had been mighty in the dark past as giant killers with his great-grandfather Enoch. They spoke little of those days. They did not want the clan to lose vigilance in thinking they had special warriors in their midst. They were human after all, and not invincible. But they taught Noah how to fight and how to be a leader.

  Lamech had built the city of Shuruppak after the Titanomachy had almost destroyed their world. But when followers of Ninlil, the consort goddess of Enlil, over ran Shuruppak with their worship of the goddess, Lamech walked away from his royal station to become a humble nomad. He chose to worship Elohim as he saw fit, removed from the influence of the wicked masses upon his descendants. He often told Noah that Elohim had special plans for Noah. Not many years before, Lamech had lost his right arm in a battle, and chose to retire and hand over leadership of the tribe to Noah as the new P
atriarch.

  When Noah stuck his head in the tent, all he saw was grandfather Methuselah snoring away in his afternoon nap. Lamech and Betenos must have gone for one of their many walks in the woods, reminiscing about their past, a time of adventure and danger that they hoped they would never have to face again.

  Noah moved on to his children’s tent, a sense of anticipation rising in him. These were his true achievements: his two sons, Shem, age five, and Japheth, age four. He took his responsibility to Elohim’s command to be fruitful and multiply very seriously. He took everything seriously, too seriously, he thought. And these two little gems were just the antidote he needed to bring him back down to earth and enjoy life a little more. ”Stop once in a while and smell the crocuses,” Emzara often told him. Had he ever even bothered to smell a crocus flower before? He would make sure to do so next chance he got. But this was the immediate pleasure. “Where are my little pups?” he called out as a warning. With a sudden burst of movement, he yanked back the tent flap and jumped inside.

  Instead of the expected giggles of two young boys, a laconic, “Baaah” greeted him. No one was there, only a pet lamb tied up in the middle of the tent. His sons called the lamb Lemuel, naming their favorite pet after their favorite of father’s friends. Noah used it as a joke to tease Lemuel, calling him “my little lamb.” That often ended in a wrestling match of some kind, with Lemuel usually winning because Noah was laughing too much. At least that’s the way Noah told it.

  Noah looked all round outside the tent. No sign of the boys.

  He called out, “Shem? Japheth?”

  No response. A single “Bah” punctuated the silence. Noah back glanced at the lamb, as though he expected an explanation from the creature. He looked around the tent again. It was a mess, with everything strewn around like a pack of dogs had been set loose. Was this demolition the work of a couple of rowdy boys playing their hearts out? Or was something wrong? Suddenly, his eyes tightened and he became concerned.