Noah Primeval (Chronicles of the Nephilim)

by Brian Godawa

  Yes, Lugalanu thought, this is the woman I want more than anything. He would do anything to have her by his side, but it would only satisfy him if she did so willingly. He knew now he would have to woo her, because force would not maintain her dignity. He accepted this challenge with a heart full of hope. He was a patient man.

  “Emzara, I am different from the gods. I will not force myself upon you. I shall make you one of my maidservants. Perhaps in time, you shall change your mind about this kingdom—about me.”

  Emzara could not believe her good fortune. Her hand moved away from the dagger handle secreted beneath her robes. Let him think what he wanted.

  Chapter 8

  The copper slave mine was a vast circular strip mining operation deep in a canyon on the outer region of the Great Desert. Spiral pathways wound their way downward like a whirlpool in pursuit of copper, the life food of a new age begun by the discovery of bronze. Bronze was an alloy more durable than its copper predecessor, being used in everything from tools and decoration to weapons and armor. It was discovered by mixing tin with copper, which resulted in the harder bronze that would last longer and kill more efficiently in weaponry. For all those reasons, especially the last, gods and kings needed plenty of bronze to build their kingdoms. Extracting copper ore from the ground was laborious work. It required many men to unearth the volume demanded by such rulers. The necessary work force could be met by only one thing: Slaves, and lots of them.

  That slaves would come from humankind was ingrained in the thinking of the world from days of old. Uriel hated slavery, and he hated what the Watchers had done to craft a mythology of slavery to support their purposes.

  Their first goal was to eradicate Elohim from the minds of men and replace him with their own pantheon. They disseminated myths that supported their hierarchy of the four high gods reigning over the earth. The four were: Anu, father god of the heavens; his vice-regent Enlil, lord of the air, wind, and storm; Enki, god of water and Abyss; and Ninhursag, the earth goddess. Below them were the three that completed the “Seven who Decreed Fate”: Nanna the moon god; Utu the sun god; and Inanna, goddess of sex and war. The Sumerians called these and the other gods of the cities Anunnaki, which means “gods of royal seed.”

  Their creation story bothered Uriel the most. In their narrative, the Anunnaki created mankind to be slaves of the gods, and bear the yoke of their labors, to mine their precious elements and build their holy kingdoms. Clay was mixed with the flesh of a god and then spat upon and mankind was birthed. So Elohim’s purpose of male and female created in his image to rule over creation was displaced with an opposite narrative, one that carried an irony not lost on Uriel: that at one and the same time, man was more exalted than Elohim made him, and yet that man was created to be a slave of the Anunnaki. In this way, the Watchers built a complete religion of idolatry that opposed Elohim’s rule and corrupted the entire human race. The fallen Sons of God could not attack the living God Elohim directly, but they could attack him indirectly by despoiling his heaven-bound image of royal representative into an earth-bound image of debased slave.

  Uriel lay on a butte overlooking the mine with Noah and Methuselah. Below them, thousands of slaves lined the spiral pathways with pickaxes and wheelbarrows, endlessly hacking away at veins of copper ore deposits. Dog-soldiers watched over them. The guards were more chimeras of Anu’s kingdom, with bodies of men and the vicious heads of wild dogs, wolves, and jackals. Only fifty guards had this duty, because not many were needed. These slaves were broken men, some bearing the weight of a lifetime of sweat and toil, only to die in the dust having been shorn of every ounce of their self-respect. A rigid discipline kept the slaves so busy that any thought of freedom could not gain a foothold in their minds. The slaves worked from morning until night with only enough food to keep them barely alive. Hunger starved any rebellious intentions.

  “So, Chosen Seed,” asked Uriel dryly, “has the Almighty revealed how to conquer this impossible target?”

  “I thought archangels communed directly with Elohim,” Noah responded. “Can you not ask him yourself?”

  Uriel shook his head. “In heaven, yes. But on earth, we are bound by the limitations of the flesh.” Of course, Uriel knew that Elohim could speak to anyone he wanted, whenever he wanted, in whatever way he wanted. And sometimes he did. But his choice of using these vessels would remain a mystery to Uriel.

  “Can you die?” asked Noah.

  “No. But we are bound in all other ways,” Uriel said. “Mal’akim and Archangels eat, sleep, and partake in all bodily endeavors, including pain. But we cannot die like men.”

  Uriel’s limitations seemed greater than his advantages to Noah. “Are you here to help me, or just to irritate me?” Noah jabbed.

  “To ensure you build the box,” the archangel replied. “I can only wonder at Elohim’s disappointment with me now.”

  Noah smiled. He was beginning to appreciate the archangel’s wit.

  Methuselah interrupted them, “Stop your bickering, lovebirds. I see our plan. Down there is the pen for the slaves.”

  They followed Methuselah’s pointing finger. At the top of the vast pit was a fenced-in area with gates that housed large sleeping quarters. He pointed at a spot about seventy cubits away from the pen.

  “Over there, the guards’ quarters. There are not many to contend with.” They saw a single earthen structure with a thatched roof.

  Uriel said, “You do not need many guards for broken starving slaves.”

  “Once they taste freedom,” Noah offered, “they will die for it.”

  Methuselah looked at the setting sun. “Slave or free, everyone must sleep.”

  Noah took the reins. “There is not much time. Let us prepare.”

  Shortly before midnight Noah’s three-man squad made their move. They thanked Elohim it was not a full moon, for the darkness aided their concealment as they descended upon the guardhouse and slave quarters.

  Noah and Methuselah slipped up to the guardhouse. Through the window, they could see the majority of the guards sleeping in tight military style rows. They took a couple logs from the woodpile and silently wedged the two doors shut. They found a cart and filled it with brush, pushing it over to one of the windows of the guardhouse.

  By the slave pen, a dog-soldier marched the perimeter. He stopped to look up at the moon and suppressed the urge to howl.

  The sound of soft footsteps made his ears stiffen.

  He jerked around. Nothing but night surrounded him. He was on the back part of the pen, separated from the guard post up front that held his comrades. He sensed something. He drew out his horn and placed it to his snout, ready to blow.

  An arrow pierced his throat sending him to the ground choking to death. Uriel trotted quietly past him.

  The second sentry paced not far from the first. He saw a figure walking toward him in the darkness. He assumed it was his fellow sentry. He gave a soft yelp of recognition.

  The figure yelped back.

  The sentry relaxed and thought of taking a pee.

  The figure stopped, and aimed a bow at the sentry. It did not register with him what was happening, until the arrow pierced his skull, dropping him to the ground.

  By the guardhouse, Noah finished barring the other windows. Methuselah grabbed a torch from the perimeter and poked its flaming tip into the brush cart. He moved it steadily until the dried twigs sparked into flame. Then he tossed the torch up on the thatched roof.

  Four dog-soldier sentries warmed themselves at a fire by the gates of the slave pen. It was nearing the end of their watch and they were all a little tired. The orange and yellow flutter of flame caught the eye of one of the sentries. He looked over to the guardhouse and saw the roof engulfed in flames. He barked in surprise. The others saw the fire. They howled to awaken the rest of the guards. One of the sentries pulled out his horn and sounded it.

  Uriel came around the corner of the pen livid with anger. “They were supposed to wait for me,”
he grumbled. He shook his head and pressed forward silently.

  At the guardhouse, the sounding horn surprised Methuselah and Noah. Methuselah turned to his grandson, a puzzled expression clouding his face. “Were we supposed to wait?” he asked.

  Inside the guardhouse, the warning of the horn wakened the other dog-soldiers. Coughing from the smoke and the barking of confusion sounded under the crackling of the fire.

  Uriel rushed the sentries by the gates of the pen with his drawn swords. He slew three of them before they even knew what had happened. But the fourth was already running toward the guardhouse, continuing to blow his infernal horn.

  For Elohim’s sake, thought Uriel, he was waking the entire desert! He threw his sword like a spear at the sentry. It covered the thirty-five cubits and pierced the running sentry The horn died in a whimper.

  Uriel ran for the guardhouse. He passed the downed sentry, drawing his sword from the bleeding corpse without slowing down.

  Inside the guardhouse, the dog-soldiers sought in vain to open the doors and windows. But they were locked in. One window remained open. Barking and howling, they clambered out the window single file, only to be speared by Noah. They fell howling into the flames of the burning cart. Methuselah supported Noah with a bow and arrow.

  On the far side of the guardhouse, some soldiers managed to break through the other barred window and climb out to freedom, but Uriel arrived to cut them down. He slammed the window shut and re-barred it with the log.

  Very quickly, the guards were dead and the guardhouse was a smoldering ruin. The roof collapsed and engulfed the soldiers in an inferno.

  Noah, Uriel, and Methuselah walked over to the slave pen.

  “You were supposed to wait,” Uriel griped to Methuselah.

  “My memory is failing,” said Methuselah. “Have some compassion for an old man.”

  “I will not suffer your excuses,” said Uriel.

  “You certainly took your time dispatching those sentries,” countered Methuselah. “Did you stop to pet them?”

  Noah interrupted them with a chuckle. “Respect your elder, Methuselah.” Uriel as an archangel was a few thousand years older than even Methuselah.

  Uriel looked over to see the two of them grinning like griffons. He shook his head, and opened the large gates single-handedly. The three of them walked inside.

  The flickering firelight of their torches illuminated a thousand emaciated slaves fearfully wondering their fate. They had not been able to see what was going on outside their pen. They had no idea who these warriors were standing before them.

  Methuselah immediately released the ropes that tied the slaves together through metal rings staked to the ground.

  Noah stepped forward and spoke like a general. “I am Noah ben Lamech, a son of Enoch. I have freed you from the tyranny of the gods.”

  Baffled silence met Noah’s inspiring proclamation. The slaves did not know how to respond to such a claim. Most thought it a nightmare, others, a mass hallucination. Anything but true liberation.

  Eventually, a scrappy slave named Murashu stepped forward and spoke up. “What do you mean, freed?”

  “You are now free to live by your own choices,” said Noah.

  Another uncomfortable silence met him.

  “We have lived as slaves most of our lives. We do not know how to make choices.”

  “Anu feeds us and gives us work!” yelled another slave.

  “We will die on our own,” added another. The mass of sleepy slaves began to stir.

  Uriel flashed an “I told you so” look to Noah.

  “Then join me!” shouted Noah with a strong, sure command. “Join my army to defy the gods and free all men from slavery and idol worship!”

  Now Murashu got bold. “We cannot fight trained soldiers. Look at us. We are shades of men.”

  Another voice shouted from the crowd, “Why should we die for you!” It was more of a statement than a question. The crowd became restless.

  Murashu matched Noah’s resolve. “We will be punished when the gods see what you have done! Why have you done this to us?”

  Murmurs of angry agreement went through the crowd.

  Methuselah stopped releasing the ropes. He began to think it might not be such a good idea to release an angry crowd of ingrates from their restraints.

  Noah realized a truth about human society: not everyone wanted freedom. When a people willingly or unwillingly become wards of their rulers, they eventually lose their capacity for self-determination. Like helpless children, they actually prefer security in exchange for their freedom. Better the misery they know while being taken care of than the misery they do not know being freely accountable for their own actions. Noah pitied them. They had lost their souls.

  Then a big burly man stepped out of the ranks. He had a heavy beard and arms the size of most men’s legs. Evidently, he got more to eat than the others. The slaves quieted down.

  Uriel stepped closer to Noah in protection.

  The man walked right up to Noah, fearlessly ignoring Uriel, and said, “I am Tubal-cain, distant son of Cain.”

  Methuselah snapped a look at him. The name of Cain did not bring pleasant memories to mind. Cain, the cursed, the man of wrath, had once hunted him and Noah’s father Lamech.

  Noah’s eyes went wide. “Cousin?” Noah had known of his cousins from the line of Cain, son of Adam. They resided in the land of Nod far to the north. But he had not known that they too had become captive to the Watchers.

  Tubal-cain glared unblinkingly at Noah. “You say you defy the gods. What of Elohim?”

  “I have an archangel of Elohim with me,” said Noah, hoping that would say enough.

  Uriel mumbled to himself, “Tell everyone, why don’t you.” It was clearly to his advantage to remain anonymous in his identity and Noah knew that.

  Tubal-cain continued to stare down Noah. Then he turned and called behind him, “Brothers!”

  Two other men stepped out, and Tubal-cain introduced them as Jabal, a shepherd, and Jubal, a minstrel of music. They were twins with completely opposite personalities.

  “You have a nice family,” said Uriel, “but not quite an army.”

  So, this was the lineage that Cain had deserted for his wolf tribe, thought Methuselah. And now, they are our allies. Or at least they appear to be. Methuselah did not trust them.

  Noah and his companions looked around. The slaves were becoming more agitated. Methuselah stepped up to Noah and whispered, “We best leave before they think of using us as ransom.”

  “Follow me,” said Tubal-cain. “I have something you will need.”

  Tubal-cain led them out of the quarters a short distance away to a cave at the outer ridge of the pit. They entered the cave to see a vast smelting furnace area with a pile of coal, molds, anvils and other metalworking implements. “What is this place?” asked Noah.

  “It is called a forge,” replied Tubal-cain. “The gods taught me how to mix metals to make them much stronger for better tools… and weapons.” He finished the sentence with a punctuated grin. But he had more to share.

  “I have discovered something stronger than even bronze, but I have not shown it to anyone. I hoped to keep it hidden until a day that I could use it for great benefit. I believe that day has arrived.” Jubal and Jabal smiled. Methuselah was all ears, mistrusting ears.

  Noah and Uriel followed him to a table with a large meteorite on it. “Metal from heaven,” said Tubal-cain. “I did not have to even smelt it. I call it ‘iron.’

  “Help me move this table,” he asked. He positioned himself to push the heavy metallic worktable.

  Uriel stepped over and bumped it aside like it was a baby’s crib.

  Tubal-cain almost fell down and Uriel gave him a smile.

  Below the table was a latched door. Tubal-cain pulled it open, revealing a hidden stash of weapons. He pulled up a sword made from the iron. Uriel could see that the Watchers had instructed him in the art of sword making. He wondered if
Tubal-cain had been exposed to any black arts.

  “These are swords. I see your guardian is already a master of them,” said Tubal-cain to Noah.

  He handed one to Uriel, who grasped it with interest. The angel tested its weight and slashed the air. Good. Very good.

  “It’s more durable than bronze, almost unbreakable. If we could find this ore on earth, we could defeat an army. Who knows, maybe we could even kill a god or two.”

  Tubal-cain was very deliberate in his words, which did not escape Noah’s notice. He liked it. Killing the gods was exactly what he had in mind.

  “I do not have an army,” Noah said, “but what I do have is a squad of stealthy assassins.”

  “With these swords, we could use their own secrets against the gods,” said Tubal-cain.

  Uriel interrupted. “As our near mishap of this evening illustrates, we have nowhere near the competence for such a feat. If you think you can just saunter into the city of Erech, traipse right into the temple and challenge Anu to a duel, you are sorely misinformed and ill advised. You might as well jump off one of these cliffs right now, because that is what you would be doing.”

  Noah said, “Well, I guess that means you will have to train the rest of us, then, Uriel.”

  Tubal-cain handed out swords to everyone.

  Uriel had known it was coming. He groaned.

  “Enough bellyaching,” said Methuselah. “It is for Noah’s advantage.”

  “And I thank you for your measured counsel,” Uriel replied. He turned to Noah. “What about the box?”

  “What about it?” replied Noah.

  “This is not your calling, Noah,” said Uriel.

  “Am I not the Chosen Seed?” said Noah, “to end the rule of the gods?”

  Uriel was annoyed, “Not in that way.”

  “I will end their rule,” said Noah, “one by one.”

  Chapter 9

  Lugalanu’s dining table was grand, twenty cubits long with a spread fit for a king: a soup of gazelle spleen broth with lentils, chickpeas and leeks. He often ate mutton or goats, but tonight was special: horseflesh. Beef was rare, for there was little pasture land. Fresh radishes, beets and turnips, figs and dates graced the table, as well as the fine delicacy of turtle eggs to compliment them. Royal privilege allowed the variety of breads and bread cakes made from the plentiful grains grown in the kingdom. These bread cakes were offerings made for the Queen of Heaven. Lugalanu and his temple staff ate the remaining amount after Inanna had her fill. He loved them drenched in honey.