by Nancy Madore
It took a while, but Ornias began to get a sense of his whereabouts in that strange, stark world of the dead. Certain places were becoming familiar. At times, startling waves of exquisite pleasure passed through him, and it occurred to him that these were, in fact, brief brushes with life on the other side. His soul seemed to be growing more perceptive—and confident. He ventured out even further from his original point of death, lifting himself higher, and he was struck by what he saw. The sheer enormity of it! It seemed to go on forever! Ornias was instantly distracted. And he was curious. What other delights might the earth have to offer, besides those he’d already encountered in that one little corner of it? Ornias yearned to find out. What was the rush, after all? With every day that passed he could feel himself growing stronger, and his sensibilities were growing keener. He was confident that he would find his way back—just as the other Qliphoth had done before him. First, he must see more of the world. And once the fear had passed, his curiosity took over.
He was both astonished and humbled by what he saw. There were enormous bodies of water that appeared to have a life all their own—even without the fish—and massive mounds of fire, active with ferocious energy. The mountains, the rocks, the rolling rivers—they were each alive in their own right. They were, in fact, the source of all life.
Ornias floated over the earth, invisible to all except the other lost souls, like him. They didn’t communicate, except by accident, when a stray thought wafted by. Sometimes, when Ornias traveled along the surface of the earth, he would encounter a fleeting glimpse of the living, such as an eye, or perhaps a toe. He felt, at these times, that the creature he was seeing could see him too. It was a little frightening at first, but after a while, Ornias found himself lingering at the point of connection, hoping for another glimpse.
He was getting better at identifying living things on the other side. He could sense, rather than feel, a kind of warmth coming from them. It filled him with longing. He craved life.
Ornias had no idea how long he’d been away when all at once he felt an overwhelming desire to return.
For Ornias, the simplest way in would always be through the blood. He could feel their life’s pulse from beyond the barrier, pumping all that delicious desire and vitality into its flesh. For those whose life’s force he had tasted, it was as if they were tied together with an invisible string. Neither could break the connection. He couldn’t imagine using any other method. He supposed there were alternate ways into a body, perhaps through the mind, or possibly even the heart, but those would take time. The Qliphoth would have to stalk their victim, slowly breaking them down until they found the right moment to strike.
Ornias moved through the area he now recognized as Kiriath Arba, feeling his way through the life forms that populated it on the other side of the barrier. He felt them keenly now, each and every one of them. Sometimes he paused, enjoying a peculiar sense of déjà vu. He had tasted of many—but there was no mistaking his druj. All of Ornias’ senses immediately came alive when their paths finally crossed. He was pretty sure his druj felt it too—though he would never have the opportunity to ask him about it. Yet Ornias knew to proceed cautiously. No matter what a druj promises while you’re both still alive, all souls will fight for their right to exist when challenged.
It seemed as if the druj suddenly became wary and anxious. This didn’t concern Ornias much. Fear could be a good thing, as it made the blood pump faster.
Ornias waited for the right moment, contemplating the young man who was so close—and yet still just beyond his reach. He recalled the fleeting glimpses of his druj’s soul that he’d captured while drinking his blood. He focused all of his energy on what he’d seen in those moments—the boy’s fears, beliefs and hopes—and clung to them. They were a part of him now. They were his lifeline.
It was like trying to squeeze into a thick suit of armor that was half his size. Ornias struggled in agony for what seemed like hours, aware that the soul of the young man was struggling against him. The human soul was surprisingly strong, and Ornias grew worried. Had he underestimated the young slave?
Ornias fought even harder to get in, becoming, for that instant, the young man whose secrets he had so intently eavesdropped upon, like a voyeur in a darkened alley. He flailed and thrashed his way through the too-small entryway into that human life. It was a little like birth, only the birth canal was another soul. Ornias could feel himself being wrenched from one world into another.
And then all of a sudden it was over. Ornias’ senses returned to him in a flood of sights, smells and sounds. He was overwhelmed by the steady flow of movement all around him, and the barrage of sensations running through him. He had returned to the land of the living!
The soul of the druj seemed to shrink away from him, as if to hide, but Ornias instantly identified it. He knew it intimately. He even had the decency to pity it. Still, he felt oppressed by its presence. He could feel it watching his every move, seeing what he saw, hearing what he heard.
It was disconcerting. Not to mention that this new body didn’t quite…fit. It was a little like having to walk around all day in shoes that were several sizes too small. However, there was nothing that could be done about the body—and no way of getting rid of its soul. This was the size human bodies came in, and the human soul had nowhere else to go. These inconveniences would have to be endured. Ornias could only hope that he would become less aware of them over time.
But Ornias missed his body. And it wasn’t just his former size—in fact it was his sexual prowess that he would miss the most. His new body parts seemed so…puny, by comparison. And to only be able to perform once—maybe twice—per session! No wonder the sons of men hated the giants!
Ornias couldn’t bear to face his wives in this condition. Thank goodness they were too old to wonder what became of him. They, themselves, were elderly and dying.
Meanwhile, the Hebrews—who were now calling themselves Israelites after one of their leaders, called Israel—were becoming a force to be reckoned with. They attributed this increasing power to the one true God. This, in itself, was not particularly worrisome. All of the sons of men believed they were worshiping ‘true’ gods. But the Israelites were different. They really seemed to have some kind of supernatural strength backing them, helping them succeed against all odds. They won battles they should have lost—particularly against the giants. Although the mightiest among the Nephilim inhabited human bodies now, their descendants were still considerably larger and stronger than the sons of men. Yet the Israelites were attacking—and crushing—their cities. One such city was Hazar, whose formidable neighbors had even joined forces for the event. The Israelites killed every soldier in their combined army. They annihilated the previously undefeated army of Bashan, which was led by the mighty grandson of Og, the infamous giant who was his namesake. The Israelites wiped out the Rephaite giants, who were—until their deaths—the largest remaining giants on earth, and shortly thereafter they eliminated the Amorites, who were led by Og’s brother, Sihon.
How had they done it? The armies of Og and Sihon were comprised of the most powerful warriors known to man. Was it possible that the one true God really was assisting these Israelites?
All along the Jordan River the Israelites went, killing every man, woman and child in their wake, whether human or Nephilim. Entire nations and tribes were wiped out, never to be heard of again. Very few cities were spared, and even then, only if they swore an allegiance to the Israelites and their God. However, even this didn’t exonerate them completely, for their citizens—and even sometimes their kings—were kept alive to become Israelite slaves.
And now the Israelites had set their deadly sights on the land of Canaan. They had spies everywhere. The people of Kiriath Arba trembled with fear. Though Kiriath Arba was in the southern-most region of Canaan, they had no hopes of escaping the wrath of the Israelites. The Israelite army was moving southward. They had to act now.
This new threat seemed to forc
e Asmodeous out of his apathy. Taking charge of the situation, he sent out an army of ordinary-looking men with Qliphoth souls—including Ornias—to spy on the Israelite army. Asmodeous wanted a first-hand account of how the Israelites were winning all of these battles.
Asmodeous’ spies spread out in all directions. Ornias traveled up toward Jericho, cutting himself a wide berth before turning to circle the north-eastern parameter of Canaan, near the Dead Sea. He traveled a great distance, asking many questions along the way. Everywhere it was the same. People lived in constant fear of the Israelites and their God.
It was several months before Ornias finally caught up with the Israelite army. They had set up camp several miles outside the city of Jericho. Ornias stalked them from a distance, waiting for the right opportunity to approach. In the meantime, he studied their activities, using his hunting skills to spy on the individuals who wandered from their camp. He got as close to these as he dared, listening carefully to all that they said—studying their dialect as closely as their words. He observed the Israelites for many days, until at last they marched off to take another city. This was the opportunity Ornias had been waiting for—though he still had to be cautious. He had no idea how many men had been left behind to guard their camp.
Weaving his way around the perimeter of the Israelite camp, Ornias spied an injured soldier lounging under a tree. The man was bare from the waist up, and Ornias noticed that he was nursing a small wound in his side. Ornias watched the soldier anxiously, waiting for the right moment to strike. When that moment came, he pounced, barely giving the man time to respond before Ornias re-opened his wound and began drinking his blood. Ornias drank vigorously, gorging himself on the warm, tantalizing fluid until he was very nearly lost in its invigorating influence. He had to virtually drag himself away, trembling from the effort. The soldier had fainted. Ornias could only hope that he hadn’t killed him.
Ornias looked around. Thankfully, they were still alone. He looked at the soldier again, feeling an overwhelming sense of dread this time. He did not relish what he was about to do, but he had to find out how the Israelites were conquering all those cities. He had to try to stop them if he could.
Ornias leaned over the man again. He figured it had to be easier getting into a body from this side of the barrier. And too, he hoped that with the soldier unconscious, his soul would put up less of a fight. But this time, the resistance came from within himself. Ornias did not want to leave his body. It was part of him now, and he felt inexplicably attached to it. It was agonizing, almost as bad as tearing away one’s own skin to expose the sensitive flesh within. Ornias was certain that he would never have been able to manage it if the soldier had been awake and fighting him. Fortunately, that soul seemed hardly aware that anything was happening. Ornias worked his way in slowly, struggling against his own desire to stay where he was and the excruciating pain of separation. He was aware, too, that someone could come upon them at any moment, but this acted as a cathartic, propelling him forward to work all the harder. But it was like self-mutilation, and quite possibly the hardest thing that Ornias had ever done in his life. When at last his soul broke loose from the body it was occupying, there was indescribable pain, like being burned alive, and then a kind of overall discomfort and weariness.
Ornias was suddenly aware that he had cried out during his ordeal. He looked up and saw three soldiers standing over him. Confused, he turned toward his former body, which was lying in a heap beside him. He saw that it was still alive—though just barely!
Ornias gritted his teeth against the pain that was coming from the wound in his side. He was almost too overcome to speak. “He…attacked me,” he managed to say in what he hoped was the language of the Israelites. His mind felt foggy. He struggled to hold on to consciousness.
Ornias’ former body, though still alive, appeared to be a vacant vessel now—or so Ornias hoped, as two of the soldiers dragged it away.
“Are you okay?” the remaining soldier asked him.
“My wound…” Ornias croaked out.
“I’ll get you some help,” the soldier assured him, and then Ornias was alone.
He turned his head to one side and wept like a little child.
*
Having infiltrated the Israelite camp, Ornias tried to uncover the secret to their power. He remained quiet and aloof, blaming his injury whenever anyone questioned his behavior. Fortunately, no one took much notice of him. They had other things on their mind. They were about to march into Jericho. Incredibly, no one discussed strategies for getting in and out of the city, or for the method of attack—nothing. Their only preparation, in fact, was to pray to their God—and they did this almost fanatically. Ornias watched them in wonder. They seemed so certain of their victory! And hadn’t they, in fact, conquered practically every city they’d set foot in?
When the day finally came to attack Jericho, Ornias insisted on going with them. And yet, he was surprised that they agreed to let him go. His wound was not healing well. But he had the strangest feeling that it didn’t matter. His abilities as a warrior seemed secondary, if they mattered at all. The other soldiers seemed to be of the same opinion. Even so, what Ornias saw in Jericho astounded him.
All they did was pray. It was a strange supplication in a foreign tongue. Was this the language of the one true God? Though Ornias understood the words, he couldn’t comprehend their meaning. All he could do was pretend to pray along with them as he listened in wonder.
First, the Israelites had surrounded the city. Their cloaks and swords were made of an unusual metal that was heavy and unwieldy. The men in front blew horns while the rest of them recited the strange prayer, repeating it again and again, for nearly an hour. When at last the prayer was finished, the entire entourage moved into the city. Ornias noticed that they were joyous—victorious even. He hovered in the background, unsure of what to expect from the inhabitants of Jericho. They were entering the city gates—yet most of the soldiers hadn’t even drawn their swords!
And the city of Jericho just let them enter. It was as quiet as a stone.
Ornias followed the Israelites into Jericho to find every living creature—giant or otherwise—lying on the ground, either dead or incapacitated. Those that were still alive were quickly and easily put to death. The Israelites spared no one, just as the rumors claimed. The children met the same fate as their fathers. No one inside that circle survived. Even the souls of the dead—the Qliphoth—appeared to have completely disappeared. Ornias walked through the streets in search of life. If a Qliphoth had been there, he was sure he would feel its presence. But there was not even a whisper of life. All souls had completely disappeared!
Ornias raised his eyes heavenward. The clouds seemed ominous as they moved languorously across the sky.
Never in his life had he felt so afraid. It seemed as if he was truly beholding the power of God. He trembled inwardly. What if these Israelites discovered his true identity? It was one thing to be killed, but another altogether to be completely obliterated from the face of the earth.
He must escape! He had to get as far away from these Israelites and their God as possible. He wondered if this was feasible. Surely at this rate, with their power, it was only a matter of time before the Israelites took over the world. But Ornias could not think of that now. He had to get out of Canaan. He would have to find another place to live.
Chapter 26
Fort Greely, Alaska
Present day
“Where’ve you been?” demanded Catherine, charging into Amanda’s work station and plopping herself down in a chair facing Amanda’s desk. The sound of Catherine’s voice jolted Amanda out of the deep trance she’d settled into during the long morning of exhaustive scanning. Unable to comprehend the relentless scrutiny of the contents of her computer, she had simply retreated inward, taking no notice of what her body was doing. But now, drawing herself back out, it was a singular pleasure to gaze upon the familiar face of her friend.
Catherine�
��s eyes were wide and excited. “I’ve been dying to talk to you!” she complained. She glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. “I thought you were coming by.”
“I’m very busy, Catherine,” Amanda heard herself say. Catherine’s eyebrows shot up at this, and Amanda felt a sudden thrill of hope. Amanda never called her friend ‘Catherine,’ and she was never too busy for a bit of gossip. There was a very good chance that Catherine would notice that something was different about her. “…Cat.” Amanda heard herself amend smoothly, and she recoiled. Could the thing inside her hear her thoughts?
Catherine narrowed her eyes as she took in Amanda’s appearance. “What are you wearing?” she asked, suddenly incredulous.
“Do you like it?”
“Ummm…it’s different,” replied Catherine evasively. But her expression quickly changed to concern as a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Oh my god! This isn’t…you’re not trying to make yourself look like Flo, are you?” Her eyes rested tragically on Amanda’s hair, which Amanda imagined to be a frizzy mess from not being blow-dried. “That’s it, isn’t it?” Catherine continued, her expression full of sympathy. “The makeup…and that blouse! Oh, Mandy!”
“I really am very busy,” Amanda insisted in her coldest voice.
“Busy…with what?” demanded Catherine, growing more suspicious by the minute. “You’re acting really weird!”
“All right, Cat,” conceded the creature with a sigh. “What do you want?”
Catherine sat back in her chair, momentarily stunned. Her eyes searched Amanda’s face. Whatever she found there appeared to offend her. “Well!” she replied testily. “I just spoke to Tommy, is all. I suppose you’re too busy for Tommy now, too?”