by Nancy Madore
But her humiliation in Uruk forced Lilith to take a more critical look at herself. She begrudgingly realized that she’d been wrong to challenge such an experienced warrior to a fight. She hadn’t intended on doing it, but her temper had flared. She would need to work on controlling her emotions, as well as accepting her limitations. The simple, annoying truth was that most Nephilim men were larger and stronger than her. She’d been given a false sense of confidence from her experiences with the men of her village, who she’d overpowered and dominated since early childhood. She figured this would be enough, since it was the sons of men who the Kalag-ga set out to conquer in their quest to rule the cities of the world. And yet, she supposed there would also be times when the Kalag-ga had to fight other giants as well. They had to be able to protect the cities they conquered from all potential attackers. If only she’d hit her mark with that first thrust of her dagger!
All of it was beside the point now. What was done was done. She would learn from her mistake and try to act with more discretion in the future. She’d have to do something spectacular to prove herself now. It would have to be something that would put the Kalag-ga warriors in their place while at the same time giving her another opportunity to get her foot in their door.
To do this she’d have to come up with a plan that would make the most of her strengths and minimize her weaknesses. Her greatest strengths—greater even than her courage—were her intelligence and cunning. And it occurred to her for the first time that the people of her village, although irritating, could be used to her advantage. They were prejudiced and often judgmental, but she knew they didn’t really mean her harm. In their odd way, many of them had tried to look after her. After all, she was the eldest daughter of the angel who protected their village. Her father, Anu, had a wife and two children in their village. Despite any personal reservations they might have about this, the people feared and appreciated Anu enough to want to keep his family safe. Lilith often considered herself a victim of her backwards little village. But in retrospect, she was forced to admit that some of her own actions might have contributed to her ongoing conflicts with the people who lived there. She supposed her constant bullying of the boys throughout her childhood hadn’t helped her case. And yet, they’d brought it on themselves, refusing to let her play with them simply because she was a girl. She’d merely used the same tactics she’d seen them using to establish rank; blackening their eyes, destroying their toys, tying them to trees and then covering them in honey. And it wasn’t just the physical stuff. When she tried to express herself verbally they called her names, like screech owl. They’d stubbornly refused to let her in their circle no matter how many times she’d beaten them. Instead of acquiescing to her obvious superiority, they stubbornly denied it to the end, even claiming their numerous bumps and bruises were brought about by magic powers, instead of a female who was stronger than them.
The young girls of Lilith’s village avoided her for an entirely different reason; they were terrified of her. On the rare occasions when she did manage to somehow snare one into a kind of compulsory association with her it always ended with the girl becoming injured or getting into trouble. Lilith’s instinct that she was better suited to play with the boys was practical; every idea she had involved either testing the boundaries or doing something dangerous—or both.
As if to prove Lilith’s culpability, her little sister, Ninsun, got along just fine with the other children her age, even if she did tower over them conspicuously.
In fact, everyone seemed to have adjusted comfortably to the situation except Lilith. And when she thought about it honestly, she had to admit that there were indeed times when the villagers had reached out to her. Yet she always had the sense that they only put up with her out of duty or fear. Her father was, after all, the main reason their village continued to exist and prosper. Most of the other villages scattered along the fertile plains were disappearing. Their occupants either relocated to the nearby cities or died. They had no means of protecting themselves. This created a shortage of farmers and shepherds, which was taking its toll on the economy overall. And the villagers who relocated to the cities seldom fared much better, often suffering extreme poverty, especially during the famine years. Many ended up selling themselves as slaves just so that they could eat.
Anu—the “sky god,” as the villagers called him—had truly been a godsend to her little village. And it wasn’t just that no one would dare attack a village that was under the protection of an angel. Anu had transformed their village with his many suggestions for more efficient and profitable ways of doing things. He was often away, traveling the earth, but he always brought back gifts and more ideas from faraway places. He taught the villagers to write; then he wrote down instructions for everything from farming and irrigation to healing.
All of this Anu had given freely. He didn’t lord it over the people or hail himself as a god, like many would have been tempted to do. He had no desire to rule and even less to be tied down to one place. He graciously allowed the elders of the village to continue running things, content to simply bring gifts, knowledge and prosperity whenever he graced them with his presence. He respected all of their customs, including the law that allowed women to take more than one husband. It had become, after all, a necessity, not only because the angels who descended upon their earth were male (there were only two hundred of them in all), but because their giant offspring were predominately male and often took as many wives as they pleased. This left a terrible shortage for the sons of men.
Anu’s behavior had gone a long way to stretch the villagers’ tolerance of Lilith and her many escapades, but lately that tolerance had metamorphosed into a kind of grudging admiration—from a distance that is. When confronted with Lilith, the older women of the village were apt to cluck their tongues at her, while the older men would shake their heads. Everyone else simply turned tail and ran in the opposite direction.
The simple truth was that Lilith resented the villagers because they profited so much from her father while she was always left wanting more. True, throughout her life she need only send out a silent prayer and he would come to her, but more times than not she had to be content to have him do so in a dream. The dreams were too vague and indistinct to completely satisfy her need to be with her father, even if they did do wonders for her outlook, bringing fresh ideas and boosting her confidence in her abilities. It was her father who provided the inspiration for a new dagger. Until then, her focus had been on perfecting her skill using the weapons of men; it hadn’t occurred to her to alter the weapons to better suit a woman. It was the same with every important decision of her life. The dreams came and Lilith set store by them; often carving notes and images—while still half asleep—right into the sideboards of her bed. And so it was after the incident with the Kalag-ga. And this time, Lilith’s dreams left her with the strong conviction that she must reconcile with the people of her village before she could successfully walk away.
It was in this state of mind that Lilith swallowed her pride and returned home. She spent her days in training, hunting and planning, while her nights were spent waiting for a sign from her father. But any dreams Anu might have sent were ambushed by visions of dark, laughing eyes and strong, persuasive arms; alternately pursuing and taunting her. Lilith tossed and turned, suffocating amid the twisted blankets and pent up frustration. Her lust for the giant called Asmodeous rivaled even her desire to be a Kalag-ga warrior.
Chapter 16
When she wasn’t perfecting her fighting skills, Lilith used what influence and charm she had to work her way into the good graces of the villagers. She was particularly friendly with the merchants, who she knew were the first to hear what was happening outside the village from the traders who came to do business with them. She was able to track all the comings and goings of the Kalag-ga—albeit after the fact—by simply talking to the merchants. Obsessed as she was with the Kalag-ga, it wasn’t long before she could anticipate their every move.
Lagash also had ongoing hostilities with Kish, a rival city to the north. There were constant disputes between the two cities over boundaries and irrigation. The longstanding strife was beginning to take its toll on both cities. The latest of these disputes left a large section of Lagash’s canals destroyed and their farmlands and storehouses flooded. Lagash was in desperate need of grain. Lilith’s village, renowned for its quality produce, was the first place they thought to go.
The village was suddenly a flurry of activity. As the merchants hustled to fill Lagash’s enormous order for grain, Lilith quickly developed a plan to even the score between her and the Kalag-ga warriors. She was careful to keep her activities secret, having no desire to involve the people of her village any more than was absolutely necessary. It was critical that no one connect what she was about to do with the grain transaction. If they did, it would put the village in great danger.
Simply, and quite single-handedly, Lilith planned to slip unnoticed into the city of Lagash along with the supplies from her village. She observed that the enormous carts brought in by Lagash’s men were unusually wide, possibly to make traversing the unwieldy roads a little easier when they were fully loaded. She devised and built a triangular box to attach to the bottom of one of the carts. She made it as narrow and shallow as her considerable size would allow, for it was imperative that the box not be discoverable by anyone standing on either side of the cart. She left spaces between the side boards so that she would be able to breathe comfortably, and an extra wide space at one of the ends for her to slip through. All that remained was to attach the box to the bottom of the cart; a simple enough task after having, on the chosen day, stolen the keys to the storehouse where they were kept.
The storehouse belonged to an old farmer named Gershon, who was providing a large portion of the grain purchased by Lagash. He’d been surprised when Lilith offered to help him load the carts, but was not in a position to refuse the timely offer. Gershon’s only son, Dumah, had been injured the day before in a terrible accident, when his favorite hunting stand in one of the large cedars suddenly and inexplicably (to everyone except Lilith) gave way. Early the next morning, before anyone else was even stirring; Lilith crept into the storehouse and securely fastened the box to the bottom of one of the carts. Afterwards, she walked around the cart several times, examining it from every position until she was satisfied that it would not be noticed. Then she put the keys in a place where Gershon was sure to discover them, and hid behind some old, forgotten crates in the back.
As was often the case—before that unfortunate incident with the Kalag-ga, that is—things went exactly as Lilith planned. Gershon discovered the missing keys, mumbling curses to himself for his forgetfulness, and then finished loading the cart by himself. By mid-day he alerted the men of Lagash that their cargo was ready and went out to get the horses. Lilith took this opportunity to squeeze into her secret hiding place beneath one of the carts. This adventure would surely test her abilities—especially her patience—but when she succeeded it would erase any doubt about whether or not she would make a great warrior. It was a shame she wouldn’t be able to openly claim her victory to the world, but she couldn’t endanger her village that way. Lagash was a profitable trade center for them, and it would bring great hardship to lose that alliance, not to mention what would happen if they decided to seek revenge. There was only one small, very select group of giants who would ever know what she did, and she felt sure that they would keep her secret.
The trip was long, tedious and jarring, but Lilith endured it cheerfully. Filled with excitement and uncompromising determination, she focused on her moment of triumph. She imagined the moment again and again, never allowing even the slightest notion of failure to enter her thoughts. She wished there was a way that she could be there to see the look on the Kalag-ga warrior’s faces—particularly that of their puffed up leader—when they heard the news. This would wipe that arrogant smile from his handsome face!
Yet she was a long way from victory. She thought about what she was about to do and reviewed how she planned to go about it, going over every possible scenario in her mind. She had a good idea of what she was up against from what she’d learned of Lagash from the merchants. The Kalag-ga had not been able to penetrate their walls, it was true, but where they had failed she had already as much as surpassed them.
Daylight was still with them when the cart finally drew near enough to the city of Lagash to begin signaling their approach with horns. The gate was opened by the time they arrived, and with that, Lilith found herself safely inside the city that no other giant had managed to step foot in before.
But there was still a very long road ahead. Lilith couldn’t risk discovery, so her only hope was to stay hidden until she could escape the cart and go about her plan unnoticed. The time seemed to drag on interminably, but Lilith considered each and every inconvenience as a further test of her abilities as a warrior. She listened to the idle guards with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, wondering vaguely if theirs would be among the throats she would cut. At the thought of it a strange thrill shot through her. Although she’d slain many animals, she had yet to kill a man. But she suffered no anxiety in this regard. Death was a mere fact of life and every soldier, guard and warrior knew the risks. They publicly acknowledged their awareness of the danger each and every time they wore their battle attire. They had to be willing to kill if they were going to risk being killed. If Lilith was going to be a warrior, she would have to feel the same. In the hunt, she was known for her cat-like reflexes and ruthless cunning. She was fast. She never hesitated when moving in for the kill. And most importantly, she never let herself dwell on the possibility that she would fail. If she were to fail as a warrior, she hoped that failure would come as a brief, shocking revelation seconds before her own death. That was all any warrior could hope for.
The guards had temporarily stationed the cart in an open marketplace that was still bustling with activity in spite of the late hour. The air crackled with noisy chatter as people lingered to offer a fresh tidbit on an old piece of gossip or to start a new rumor altogether. Lilith grew bored, listening to their silly talk. Their trivial concerns seemed to underscore their dependent natures and rather pointless existences. They were just like the people of her village; focusing on trifles, creating mountains out of mole hills, stretching the limits of absurdity with their pointless chatter. Their penchant for exaggeration was what irritated her most. The sun did not simply rise, it ‘ascended upon them the fury of God.’ Every occurrence, no matter how ordinary or predictable, was seized upon as a ‘sign’ from the gods. Lilith rolled her eyes as she listened to them. They were like children. She wondered how they would interpret what she was about to do. The thought made her smile.
At long last the cart was moving again and Lilith was slowly taken in and around the meandering streets of the city to the storehouse—where the real adventure would finally begin. She stifled yawn after yawn, anxious to escape her uncomfortable cage. She longed to stretch. Her back ached. Yet it appeared she would have longer still to wait. The storehouse was filled with workers, noisily loading and unloading merchandise. It was almost as busy as the market had been. Moments alone were too quickly i
nterrupted, so Lilith tested her patience even further by remaining in her hiding place under the cart.
It wasn’t until after nightfall that the last of the storehouse workers finally left and the storehouse doors were all closed and locked. Lilith had begun to worry that the noises coming from her empty stomach would alert someone of her presence, but luckily no one appeared to notice. It was with enormous pleasure and relief that she finally slid out of her little box and—before anything else—pulled a piece of bread from her pouch and bit off a large chunk. She stretched her muscles and looked around as she chewed. It was hard to see inside the dark storehouse, but her eyes were slowly adjusting to the little bit of light there was. There appeared to be no windows, so she wouldn’t be able to see what was happening outside. This wasn’t going be easy. Her best bet would be to strike in the wee hours of the morning, when it would be least expected. This would mean more waiting.
Lilith inspected the storehouse. She walked all around the perimeter, carefully examining each of the two exits. She’d been worried that someone would link her actions to that day’s deliveries and was relieved by how much activity, both coming and going, went on at the storehouse. She supposed that someone would eventually find the box she placed under the cart, but hopefully by that time they would have no idea where it came from or when it had been put there.
In the end, the locks on the storehouse doors were not at all hard to breach. Lilith chose what appeared to be the least used of the two doors—supposing it might provide an easier passage into the city—and worked quietly in case there was a guard outside. When she was ready to open the door, she proceeded with extreme caution, shifting it from its position in such tiny increments that it would hardly have been noticeable even if someone were staring directly at the door. However, she suspected the guard, if there was one, would be facing away from the building, and when the door was opened enough for her to look through the tiny crevice she saw that she was right. There was a single armed man standing a few feet in front of the building, facing out. There wasn’t another person in sight. The guard had an axe affixed to his belt and a small dagger attached to his leg.