by Nancy Madore
“Ornias, this is our leader, Asmodeous,” said Anak, still all smiles. “He’s even younger than I thought, poor thing,” he remarked to Asmodeous. “Can you imagine him surviving all by himself in those mountains?”
The giant called Asmodeous merely grunted.
“I’m an expert hunter,” said Ornias, a little surprised by how confident he sounded. There was a time when he could barely stand to crush a bug, but he was different now, and his statement was true.
“I make the rules around here,” Asmodeous told him.
Ornias looked at him. There was nothing friendly in the man’s expression but neither was there anything menacing. He seemed a hard man, but not necessarily a cruel one. “That’s fine by me,” said Ornias with a shrug.
Asmodeous nodded and then turned without another word to head back toward the camp.
“Whew,” Ornias sighed when he was out of earshot. “I guess I’m still a little unused to people. I was ready to run back up the mountain for a minute there. Is he always so fierce?”
Anak laughed. “He wasn’t always like that,” he said. “He’s crazy with grief over the loss of his woman.”
Ornias sighed wistfully, thinking of all the women that he, too, had lost. “I noticed that you survived by ship,” he said.
“Yes,” Anak replied. “We’ve been camped out here for months now, waiting for the water to recede enough for us to head back to our homeland.”
“Do you think it’s still there?” asked Ornias, glancing around at the desolation all around them. “How will you find it?”
“We have instruments for measuring location…” Anak paused, growing solemn. “They were provided by our fathers,” he added sadly.
Ornias felt an instant kinship with Anak. “I know,” he agreed. “I lost my mother before the war, and I still think of her every day. You’re the son of an angel then?”
“Yes,” said Anak. “You aren’t?”
“No,” replied Ornias. “I am the great-grandson of an angel.”
“Truly!” exclaimed Anak. “But you’re so large!”
Ornias shrugged, a habit that stayed with him from his days with Spengha. “I was the largest of my brothers, but that only made me a bigger disappointment to everyone in my village. You see, I didn’t want to be a warrior.”
“I understand completely,” Anak told him. “I myself would much rather capture hearts than cities.”
Ornias beamed. And his liking for Anak grew stronger with every minute they spent together. Ornias had a lot in common with the man, and found much more than his clothes to admire him for. Anak had a virtual harem of wives, all of whom seemed perfectly happy to share him. Ornias couldn’t help envying him, and told him so that very first night at dinner, which was a veritable feast that also left Ornias shaking his head in astonishment.
“No need,” Anak laughed. “I have plenty of beautiful daughters to go around.”
The other giants were curious and tolerant of Ornias, but Anak was quickly becoming a true friend.
Ornias remained nervous around Asmodeous; though he couldn’t help admiring the way he ran the camp. The people of Kiriath Arba were tremendously organized. Their supplies were extensive, comprising every imaginable comfort, right along with the necessities. They’d brought foodstuffs and live prey with them from their homeland. They had horses for travel and carriages for transport. They had everything, from lush carpets to weapons. They lived on the side of that mountain like kings, in spite of the destruction that surrounded them. Even Ornias’ accommodations were more extravagant than what he’d grown up with in his village.
The people of Kiriath Arba had thought of every detail, including the recovery of their lost souls after the war. But fate had intervened in this last—the tablets that had been carefully stored in the base of the ship had been swept away in the deluge when it struck the side of the mountain. By the time they had secured the ship from taking on water, the tablets were gone. Asmodeous began sending out search parties as soon as the water receded, but so far, they’d had little success. But Asmodeous had even prepared for this, for they had also buried copies of the tablets in their homeland of Kiriath Arba.
Yet Asmodeous seemed to glean very little comfort from hopes of what he might find in Kiriath Arba. Each loss seemed to leave him more embittered. He was easily provoked and even cruel at times. Though he was tolerant of Anak, he seemed resentful of Anak’s overabundance in the midst of his own loss. To make matters worse, Anak and his wives—Ornias had counted twenty-three in all—kept up a kind of cheerfulness in the camp that seemed to agitate Asmodeous all the more. Anak’s daughters, meanwhile, practically threw themselves at his feet, but Asmodeous seemed determined, for the moment, to wallow in his grief.
The search for the tablets continued. Asmodeous seemed reluctant to give it up. Days turned into years. They scoured the area in and around the ship. Surrounded as the camp was by mountains, it was protected from the harsh mountain winds, making the winters milder than they had been in Ornias’ cave. But Ornias didn’t mind the harsh mountain winters, and it appeared that the other giants felt the same. Severe weather seemed to suit them. They wrapped themselves in thick furs and settled in, huddling together and emerging each spring with a camp full of round bellied women and remarkably contented men. The summers, on the other hand, were delightfully mild, like nothing they had known before in their native desert lands. There were, as well, several hot-springs in the area, which they all took great pleasure in. They were glad to be alive. There was even talk that they might settle there, and they spent many hours debating what they would call their mountain city if they did decide to stay.
Although Ornias was technically an outsider, he felt more a part of this community than he had ever felt with the Haltamti. He found himself enjoying the company of some more than others, and a kind of kinship developed that was unlike anything he had experienced before. Besides Anak, Ornias formed two more close friendships. One was with a young giant by the name of Ephippas, who was intrigued by the Haltamti’s method for securing replacement bodies for Qliphoth souls. The giants often discussed various ways for returning to this world after death, but Ornias’ stories of the Haltamti drujes appealed to Ephippas, and the two became friends. Ornias’ newfound talent as a hunter brought about his next friendship. Competition was fierce among huntsmen, and a strong bond was developed when Rabdos, or ‘The Hound,’ as he was often called in the hunt, found a worthy opponent in Ornias, who could also sniff out an animal with the cunning of a fox.
Though Ornias was a skillful hunter, he took little joy in the killing. He had developed his talent out of necessity, but here in the camp there was no longer any need. They had so many hunters that the camp couldn’t process the meat fast enough. Eventually he was only doing it for the comradery he felt with the other men, particularly Rabdos. He began staying behind, to write songs or draw.
Everyone in the community had a job. Asmodeous and his group of searchers spent all their time looking for the tablets. The women did a wide range of things to make life within the camp function smoothly. The children hauled away garbage and other refuse, and scavenged through the flood debris for items to burn or anything else that they could make use of in the camp. Asmodeous ruled, but Anak was the one who kept peace. He managed disputes and maintained the overall cheerful tone of their tight little community. Once Ornias’ talent for drawing and songwriting was discovered, his hunting days were over for good. His pictures were in high demand. The women fought amongst themselves for the opportunity to be drawn by him. The children sang his songs as they went about their chores in the camp.
Ornias was happy. He’d found a place where he was accepted for who he was. He learned to speak their language and, as well, realized why Anak had so many wives. Casual sex-play was strongly discouraged. But Ornias didn’t mind so much. He had to be a little more selective, that was all—make sure it was a woman he wouldn’t tire of too quickly. The only thing that was missing was blo
od. Asmodeous made it clear that the ways of the Haltamti would not be permitted in their camp.
Time passed. Some of the tablets—or pieces of them—were recovered. Each time the searchers returned with some little tidbit, Asmodeous would renew his efforts. It seemed like he would never give up the search.
Ornias, meanwhile, had taken two wives and fathered five children. They were just coming out of another winter, and were preparing the earth for their crops. Their little valley was abundant in wildlife and vegetation now. They had everything they needed. The water was clean and plentiful. Their tents were plush and comfortable. They felt safe.
And then Asmodeous decided it was time to go home.
Chapter 19
Travel was slow. Their ever expanding community was solicitous of its elderly and the very young. When they set up camp, it was not unusual for them to stay for a month or more. They called themselves ‘Anakim’ after Anak, who was the firstborn son of Arba, the angel who first founded the city of Kiriath Arba before the war.
Ornias had become a favorite among the Anakim. The women were enamored with his poetry. The children looked up to him, committing many of his songs to memory. Even the men were obliged to acknowledge his talent, admiring his more intimate sketches amongst themselves. Ornias delighted in the approval, but a small part of him hungered for more. He craved blood. And he worried that the grim leader of the Anakim, Asmodeous, knew of his secret craving.
Asmodeous led the way, using his instruments for measuring direction, and often veering off course in order to follow the water. It was a long, tedious journey. Ornias wondered if they would find the land they called Kiriath Arba. Did it even exist anymore?
It soon became evident that others, besides them, had survived the war. But Asmodeous discouraged contact with other clans, afraid of potential marauders. The land was still recuperating. Supplies were in short demand. People would kill for what the Anakim had. Though this made sense, it irritated Ornias, who would have relished the opportunity to find female companionship outside their tribe. Oh, to taste the sweet life force of the daughters of men once again!
Months passed, during which time the world seemed to come alive. The further west they went, the more survivors they found. Little settlements were popping up everywhere. Then, quite unexpectedly, something amazing happened. They saw a city. A real city. And even more amazing, Asmodeous was leading them right to it. Was this the long awaited Kiriath Arba?
They circled the city, setting up camp at the bottom of a small mountain just on the other side of it. Then Asmodeous surprised Ornias even more by including him in the group of men he commandeered to investigate.
The group, led by Asmodeous, went a little way up the mountain and then contemplated the city in silence. Upon closer inspection, it was not such an imposing city at all, but a small community, like theirs. The people were actually rebuilding what had once been a very large city from its ruins. It was surprisingly preserved, most likely due to the proximity of the mountain, which probably shielded it from that first, devastating explosion of water. Ornias noticed that there were no giants among them.
“Does it look familiar?” Asmodeous asked Ornias, and Ornias was a little shocked to see that Asmodeous was asking him. Ornias just stared at him in surprise. Then he looked at the city again, taking in every detail this time. There was something familiar about the arrangement of the buildings—and the wall. Ornias turned back to Asmodeous in confusion.
“This used to be the land of the Haltamti,” Asmodeous told him.
Ornias turned back toward the ruins again, examining key points; the mountains, the city wall, the temple ruins. Then he looked further out, past the city, where the smaller villages—like his—would have been. Could it be?
“They survived?” Ornias whispered in amazement.
“Possibly,” replied Asmodeous. “Or these people could be wanderers, looking for a place to settle. That’s what you’re going down there to find out.”
Ornias looked at Asmodeous doubtfully. His initial shock having passed, it now occurred to him that he wasn’t likely to get a warm reception down there, even if they were Haltamti. He hadn’t exactly left on good terms. Besides, they were all descendants of the sons of men and he was a giant.
“Come on,” said Rabdos. “I’ll go with you.”
“Me too,” said Ephippas.
Ornias led the men into the city, but he was filled with foreboding. What if someone recognized him? What would they say? He winced, thinking of the songs the Anakim children sang of ‘Ornias the Great,’ who had been so admired by the Haltamti people (Ornias sometimes found it necessary to stretch the truth a bit in order to make the stories more interesting). If the Anakim discovered the truth, he would never hear the end of it!
But Ornias needn’t have worried. A quick scan of faces told him that they were a different people altogether.
The workers stopped what they were doing when they saw the giants approaching.
“Easy,” Ornais heard Rabdos say, and he suddenly realized that he was trembling noticeably. “They’re not going to attack.”
“How do you know?” he asked.
“I can tell,” said Rabdos.
This made Ornias feel slightly better, but he still wished he wasn’t there. He had left this land in turmoil and found no pleasure in returning to it now.
One of the men stepped forward. “I am Elam,” he announced in a tone of authority. “Son of Shem.”
Neither name meant anything to Ornias.
“I am Rabdos,” announced his friend with a confidence to match Elam’s. “We’re passing through, to a place west of here.”
“Ah, that is good,” said the man, clearly relieved. “You will be with your own kind there.”
“So there are more giants?” asked Ornias.
“Yes, there are many,” Elam told them. “And more coming every day.”
“Are they in Uruk?” asked Ephippas.
“No,” replied Elam. “Uruk is the holy city now. The giants do not go there. There is a place—a small village right outside of Uruk called Babili—where giants are welcomed.”
“Do you know what happened to the people who used to live here?” asked Ornias. “The Haltamti?”
“I do not,” said Elam. “I was given this land in the covenant. It is the city of Elam now.”
“What covenant?” demanded Rabdos.
“The covenant between God and His people,” Elam replied—rather smugly, Ornias thought, considering that he was addressing men who were twice his size. “I am among them. My father, Shem, was given a third of all the land, which he, in turn, has divided between me and my brothers.”
“And this…Babili?” prompted Ephippas.
“Babili is part of Ham’s inheritance,” explained Elam. “The land apportioned to Ham is cursed because he has sinned against the one true God. Ham has given Babili to his son Nimrod, who is also a giant.”
They took a moment to consider this. “What about the land west of there…past the great desert?” asked Rabdos. “We’re looking for a city called Kiriath Arba.”
“I don’t know of any Kiriath Arba,” Elam replied. “But the land to the west of the great desert has been given to Ham’s other son, Canaan.”
The giants went back and reported all that Elam had told them.
“So, they have already begun dividing up the land,” mused Asmodeous. He seemed almost pleased by the prospect of taking it back from them.
So their journey continued, but the relaxed manner in which they had previously traveled was gone. Everyone was filled with anxiety now. What if they had lost Kiriath Arba forever?
It took several weeks of arduous travel for them to reach the village of Babili, which was located on the banks of the Euphrates River. They set up camp further down the river, on a hill that overlooked the nearby city of Uruk. Asmodeous stared out over the new city with tears in his eyes.
“Have you been there before?” Ornias asked.
Asmodeous was silent for so long that Ornias wondered if he had heard him.
“Yes,” Asmodeous whispered at last, but he didn’t elaborate. He simply stared at the new, emerging city of Uruk with a strange light burning in his eyes.
Babili was indeed a welcoming little village. The people were curious about the giants who set up camp along their river, and immediately came bearing gifts. That evening, Ornias wandered into their village, and was confronted by the largest giant he’d ever laid eyes on. Yet there was something in the giant’s manner that immediately put Ornias at ease.
“You’re with the camp outside our village, aren’t you?” asked the giant.
“Yes,” replied Ornias, quick to add—“Though our final destination is west of here.”
“Welcome to Babili,” the man replied. “I’m Og.”
“I’m Ornias.”
The two giants smiled at each other.
“We came by way of Elam,” said Ornias, making conversation. “They told us this land in cursed.”
Og threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Ahh,” he sighed when he recovered. “I never get tired of hearing that.” He put a large hand—almost like a bear paw—on Ornias’ shoulder and led him through the village. “The sons of men haven’t changed much,” he mused out loud. “It’s Ham, actually, who is cursed,” Og told Ornias, using his thumb and forefinger to illustrate his point as he continued—“with a gish three sizes too small to please his lovely wife!”
It was Ornias’ turn to laugh. “That is indeed a terrible curse!” he agreed.
“His wife could not resist my…charms,” Og continued with pride. “Big isn’t always a bad thing, eh, my friend?”
“So…it was you?” Ornias asked, impressed. After all, Ham was a descendant of the prophet who had been chosen by the Others! Oh, how the mighty continued to fall!
“Sure was,” replied Og cheerfully. “I fathered every last one of his sons.” He sighed contentedly before adding—“Of course, they covered it up by claiming that Ham is being punished for something or other. I’m sure it wasn’t hard for them to come up with a sin, even for old Hamhead—just about everything is a sin with them now. They’ve gotten even worse since the war. Anyway, Ham’s punishment is supposed to be this curse upon his descendants and their land, that they will forever be plagued by giants.”