The man with white hair sat down on a log across the fire from Aizarg. “That is my wife’s lamb stew. Fortunately, you choose the Sabbath to steal into our compound and we had plenty of leftovers.
“Zedkat says the arrow passed through without hitting bone, though how, I don’t know.” He motioned to Aizarg’s face. “Your face was in worse shape. According to the young lady, you two had a very difficult journey.”
Aizarg couldn’t pull his eyes off the white-haired man, even as he resumed eating, albeit slower this time. The more Aizarg looked upon this Narim, the more he doubted him a god. The lines on his face spoke of time’s relentless influence.
“You were going to kill us, weren’t you?” Aizarg said between bites.
“Yes. Yes, I was,” the white-haired man said uncomfortably. “I am sorry, Aizarg of the Lo. God gave my people a law to live by. Sometimes, it can appear harsh, but its harshness doesn’t give us license to disobey. However, you taught me an important lesson — justice should never be meted without the council of the heart.” He pointed to his chest. “It is here where God’s voice can always be heard.”
The white-haired man leaned back, picked up a stick and poked the fire.
Aizarg sensed he’d had enough to eat. “Thank you.” He held up his hand to Zedkat. “It was delicious.”
“I will tell Momma Emzara. She will be pleased.” Zedkat bit her lip, as if she were thinking intently about something. “I don’t think she’s ever cooked for guests, at least since I’ve been here.”
“Zedkat,” the white-haired man said impatiently. “Please bring me the jug from the upper cupboard and then you can go to bed. I will take the air by the fire with our guests.”
She gave the white-haired man a mildly disapproving glance, which he ignored, and hurried off.
“Who are you?” Aizarg asked.
“My name is Noah, son of Lamech.” He opened his arms expansively. “You are guests in my domain.”
Aizarg looked around. To his right, he saw the stone cottage in the firelight. He couldn’t see the giant hall to his left, but he felt its looming presence.
The memory suddenly crystalized in Aizarg’s mind. “A boat! The great hall is a boat!” Aizarg shouted.
“Shhh! You will wake everyone.” Noah looked past Aizarg toward the ark. “Yes, so it is. So it is.”
“Why would you build a giant boat on a mountaintop?”
Noah smiled and chuckled softly, “Because God told me to!”
Zedkat stepped back into the firelight and gave Noah a ceramic jug with a long, thin neck. She folded her arms and resumed her disapproving look. “Momma Emzara won’t approve.”
“Momma won’t begrudge an old man something to sooth his achy back.” He harrumphed. “Besides, we have guests and I have to convince them we ‘Narim...’” he chuckled at the word, “...haven’t forgotten the art of hospitality.” Noah pulled Zedkat down and kissed her cheek. She glowed under his attention. “Go to bed, my dear.”
She kissed Noah on his head and vanished into the cottage.
Aizarg knew these were not gods. There is love here. He is a family man, obviously the patriarch of his clan.
Noah didn’t drink from the jug, but instead handed it to Aizarg. “Drink this, Aizarg of the Lo. It will take the edge off your pain. Be careful, it bites before it purrs!”
Aizarg took the jug with his left hand and sniffed the top.
Odorless.
Noah grinned and motioned Aizarg to drink.
If he wanted us dead, we would be so already.
Aizarg held his breath and took a healthy swig. He swallowed quickly and almost gagged. His throat burned like fire.
Maybe I was wrong.
The pain quickly subsided as a warm sensation spread throughout his belly. The fire burned warmer, the air smelled sweeter and Aizarg’s shoulder felt much better.
“Ah!” Noah grinned. “I see you approve.” He reached over and took the jug. Noah took a drink, squinted and shook his head. He exhaled with a generous smile. “One taste is enough to take the edge off the day. Too much, and well, getting up the next morning can be painful.”
Aizarg basked in the warmth of the drink’s euphoria, his questions and fear momentarily forgotten. He let the flames lull him into a trance and his mind drifted away.
Aizarg never realized such a wonderful feeling could exist. Even Virag’s wine did not have this effect.
A short, straight blade with an antler handle appeared in Noah’s calloused hand. He picked up a small, fat chunk of green wood and began carving it.
“You’ve been asleep since sunset. Dawn is still several hours away. Zedkat has been tending you and your family all night.” He nodded to Sarah and Ezra. “Zedkat and my other daughters-in-law have not seen the world beyond the wall since they arrived,” Noah said without looking up. “They are excited about your arrival...and afraid. Until now, I don’t think they understood why God has not blessed their wombs with children.”
Noah looked down at Sarah’s sleeping form. “You are blessed with a wonderful daughter. She told me much about your journey while you slept. She wouldn’t leave your side. When she realized we would not hurt you, she told us of her brother hiding on the ledge.”
Noah held the wood at arm’s length, as if trying to discern what shape might be hiding inside its raw form, waiting for his knife to free it. He looked up at Aizarg.
“You and your people are safe among us, Aizarg. We will not harm you. You have my word.”
Aizarg sensed no ill will or deceit in the Narim’s eyes.
“Your daughter says you are a fisherman. She says your people live in huts built over the water,” Noah said. “I’ve seen the sea once, but only as a child as we journeyed north from Havilah. In those days, the Nephilim had yet to teach the craft of boat building to men. I’ve fished the mountain streams for trout, though.”
“The Great Sea is abundant in trout,” Aizarg said. “We fish for them with both the net and the spear.” Aizarg stared at the fire and spoke of the Lo and their way of life while Noah whittled and listened quietly. Like the fire and the drink, speaking about his people soothed Aizarg’s troubled spirit.
Time passed and Aizarg’s trance melted away. He looked up and found Noah staring at him, as if taking his measure. Aizarg didn’t know why, but he felt a bond with this man, a kindred sadness of the spirit all good fathers share.
“Why did you want to kill us?”
“My God gave us a code, a law to live by. It guides every facet of our lives, from when we rise in the morning, to what we eat, to when and how we pray. Part of that law is that no one may enter the Black Fortress.
“Over the years they’ve tried to scale the walls and climb the cliffs to enter our compound. In greed they seek the riches of the Narim. It has grown worse with the rise of the cult of Ba’al, the Black Dragon.” Noah spit on the ground. “Foul evil has taken root in among the Hur-po, evil bent on destroying my family. I am sorry, Aizarg. I did not see you for what you truly were until it was almost too late.”
“I understand, Noah. I would do anything to protect my family as well. There is nothing to forgive.”
Noah smiled and Aizarg sensed a weight lift off the great man’s shoulders.
“Noah, why did your god tell you to build the boat? I fear for my people. I must know what this means for them.”
Noah paused and tapped his finger on his knee. “Why did God tell me to build that boat?” He repeated and then resumed his whittling.
“My God is the Creator of Heaven and Earth, but he has cursed the Earth.” Noah said flatly. “He commanded me to build the ark because he will send a deluge...” he momentarily wagged his finger, “...and send it soon, mind you, to cleanse wickedness from the land.” Noah stopped whittling and shook his head. “‘A deluge.’ That is all God saw fit to tell me. I assumed the river would rise and sweep the Hur-po from the valley, and perhaps the Scythians from the steppe. My family and I, along with any men or creat
ures God so desired, would take shelter high on this ledge, safely deposited in the ark.”
Aizarg wasn’t sure he grasped what Noah insinuated. “Do you mean you didn’t know you were building a boat? How can you build something so grand and not know what it is?”
“Of course I didn’t know!” Noah scoffed. “I’m a shepherd and a carpenter, not a boat builder. God said ‘build an ark...’” Noah held out his hands as if holding a box. “...A container, a place of safekeeping.”
Noah leaned in. “I will tell you, fisherman, how I built this giant ark!” Noah poked the stump with the knife tip, accentuating each syllable. “One piece at a time! God said ‘Place a beam here’ and I obeyed. God said ‘nail a plank here’ and I obeyed. Sometimes He showed me a small part of His grand vision and trusted me to make it real. Sometimes He was stubbornly silent.
“Yes, I thought some things about it odd, and like a child, I guessed at His plans. Why did the planks run left to right and not up and down? Why was the internal structure so strong? Why all the pitch? A boat builder?” Noah chuckled. “I am no boat builder, only a servant of God.”
He speaks like a patesi-le.
“If he would have told me to build a boat, I would have made my own conclusions, my own plans. Even if I didn’t want to, I would have put my vision ahead of His. I would have failed. He led me one step at a time.
“You, Aizarg, were an answered prayer. Through a fisherman’s eyes God told me to look up and see His plan!”
A thousand questions bubbled up in Aizarg’s mind, but he kept coming back to one. “This deluge you speak of. How and when will it happen? ”
“I think it has already begun. From the ramparts I’ve watched the Hur River swell to three times its width over the last few days.”
Aizarg thought of the Black River they crossed two days ago.
“That is only the beginning,” Noah continued. “Then the rains will come.”
“Rains?” Aizarg asked. “What are ‘rains’?”
Noah grunted and considered Aizarg. “Yes, you are of the steppe and might have never seen rain. On this side of the mountains it is rare. It is water that falls from the sky. My people call it the Tears of God. It is common in the lands from where my people hail. It falls from dark clouds. It may fall gently or pound from the heavens with streaks of lightning and claps of thunder.”
Aizarg tried to imagine this ‘rain.’ “I’ve seen lightning and heard thunder, but rain...,” Aizarg shook his head. “What does this mean for my people?”
“It shall rain for forty days and forty nights, this has been promised. Now that I know the hall is actually a boat, it is apparent God will lift it from the mountain. The water will reach the very tops of the mountains and the steppe will become the bottom of a sea.”
“Please, you must save my people! The boat will hold all of them. Perhaps that is why it is so big. This must be why I am here. Noah, let me bring my people here, I beg you!”
Noah didn’t answer him at first. He took another swig from the jar and whittled in silence.
“Obviously, the ark is intended for many more than just my family. At God’s command, we have stored mountains of grain, hay and other food stuffs deep in the mines over the years, untouched by rat or rot.” Noah pointed up into the darkness in the general direction of the cave. “There is enough in there to feed all of Hur-ar for weeks.
“Many years ago, God told me to warn the Hur-po of the coming doom. I did so, before I secured the last segment of the wall. They ignored me, too smitten with their earthly pleasures.
“I suspected the time of the deluge was nearing when God commanded me to start moving the food into the ark. That work is almost complete. I hoped God would instruct me to throw open the Black Gates and, once again, beseech the Hur-po to repent. Alas, no such command came. The Hur-po had their chance and let it pass them by. They will perish with their gold.”
“Didn’t you give them the gold?” Aizarg asked.
Noah stopped whittling and looked straight ahead. “It took many nails to build the ark. Gold is a nuisance; its veins block our way when we dig for iron, tin and copper. The Hur-po traded for gold for generations without falling into corruption. It wasn’t until the fall of the Nephilim and the rise of the Black Dragon when lust for the soft metal turned them away from God.”
Noah paused and sighed. “I pray for them every day.” He returned his attention to Aizarg. “And then you appeared! My heart says ‘Yes! Aizarg of the Lo, bring your people here and enter the Ark.’ But God is silent on the matter.”
“Noah, your god is unknown to me, but I see this great ark and know he is real. I acknowledge the power of your god and will forsake the old gods and follow yours if it will mean salvation for my people,” Aizarg said, searching the Narim’s eyes for a hopeful sign.
Noah leaned over and placed his hand on Aizarg’s knee. “Peace, Aizarg,” he said softly. “Do not be afraid. You strike me as a righteous man, though only God can judge a man’s heart. You are here for a reason. I see God’s hand in this.”
Noah touched Aizarg’s hair. “Has your hair always been this way?”
“Only recently.”
“I used to have the blackest hair you’ve ever seen!” Noah laughed. “Emzara said it was one of the things she so loved about me. One day God spoke to me in a voice as real as mine sounds to you, though I could not see its source. He commanded me to stay in the Hur Valley, even as my father and my brothers prepared to move our flocks west. On that day, my hair turned white as snow.”
Noah pointed to Aizarg. “Pure white hair is the scar left by God’s direct touch.” Noah gave a short laugh. “God must truly hold special favor for carpenters and fishermen! He is guiding you to an unknown purpose. If that purpose is to join us in the ark, so be it.”
A concerned expression crossed Noah’s face. “I labored for years under the assumption I was building a shelter to weather the storm high on this mountaintop. I was wrong. I thought all the gated chambers, both great and small, within the ark were for the repentant and their flocks. With your coming, I see through new eyes and I am unsure of God’s designs.”
Fear festered in the bottom of Aizarg’s gut. He wanted Noah to tell him his people would be allowed in the ark.
“Surely, my people will not be forsaken? We are good and simple, never asking for more than our next meal and to raise our families in peace. Will your god judge us with the Hur-po and the bloodthirsty tribes of the g’an?”
Noah handed Aizarg the jug. “You are here, are you not? He has chosen you for a purpose, trust Him.” Noah leaned back, as if trying to find the right words.
“I will tell you what I told Sarah while you slept. My wife is a gentle and loving woman. Emzara has patiently endured suffering and trials no woman should ever have to face.” He held his arms up to the sky. “I thank God for giving her to me, for she is a better woman than any man deserves.” Noah pointed to Aizarg’s hair. “Emzara was frightened of you. This has been a difficult life, but one we’ve grown accustomed to. She knew your arrival meant that this life was coming to an end. Emzara forgot she should trust God and not fear the future. You, Aizarg of the Lo, must also trust God and not fear the future.”
It wasn’t enough for Aizarg. “Can you ask your god why he brought me here?”
“I will pray about it, though I cannot say how or when He will answer.” Noah sighed. “Aizarg, I want to help you, but I need to know of your people and how you came to be here. Sarah told me some, but I want to hear it from you.”
***
Aizarg spoke deep into the night about their journey. He told Noah of the Valley of the Beasts, the vanishing fish and the events of the Council of Boats. Noah’s expression became graver with each new unfolding of the tale. He asked Aizarg to repeat his tale of the Valley of Beasts several times, asking him many questions regarding the gathering of animals.
Soon, Noah put down his whittling and stood up with hands behind his back. Sometimes he asked
Aizarg a question or to expand on some point of his story, but mostly he listened.
After Aizarg finished his account, Noah finally spoke. “The spirit you encountered in the mist was an angel.”
“What is an ‘angel’?”
“They are powerful servants of God.” Noah raised his fingers and nodded knowingly. “Based on what you told me about the ghosts following the spirit, I believe you encountered the Angel of Death, God’s agent for bringing the dead to judgment.”
“What would this ‘Angel of Death’ have of me and my people?”
Noah looked Aizarg up and down. “You’re not dead, so I think we can eliminate that,” he said dryly. “You said the angel brought you a message?”
“The message came from a ghost. The dead followed in this angel’s wake like minnows in the shadow of a boat,” Aizarg said.
Noah nodded. “Yes, the dead are drawn to this particular angel. It is in this spirit’s nature.”
“They said I was not to accept strangers in our midst after we crossed back over the Black River,” Aizarg continued. “I assume his meaning was during our return journey. For this, he said we would be delivered to a promised land.”
“You, Aizarg of the Lo, have made a covenant with God, much as I have. It also means you were meant to return to your people, perhaps to lead them here.” Noah shrugged. “Perhaps. I sense in my heart time is short.” Noah frowned. “Did the ghost say anything else?”
Aizarg thought for a moment, and then remembered. “Yes, I remember now. Before I blacked out, the angel said something to me. I recall its words clearly. It said ‘The doom of the Fallen is at hand.’”
Noah stepped back and sat down, as if the wind had just been knocked out of him. “Once again, my eyes are open and God has shown me His will.
“The land has flooded before. My grandfather told me stories of great walls of frigid water pouring out of the northlands, sweeping away entire villages. These floods were sufficient to destroy the likes of mortal men. What God is about to unleash is a flood to destroy no less than gods! That is why He guided me in constructing the ark.”
Black Sea Gods: Chronicles of Fu Xi Page 33