Wives of the Flood

by Vaughn Heppner

  “Is that wise?”

  “Why do you think I hesitate? I tremble when I think upon my plan. Yet…”

  “You are the Mighty Hunter,” she said.

  “I am Nimrod, which is to say the greatest of men.” He set down his baton and picked up his sword belt, buckling it around his waist. “I will speak with Canaan, chief of the magicians.” Nimrod paused at the door. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  5.

  Nimrod and Canaan had exhausted the topic. Instinctively, they moved into the temple where Rahab had once lain. Candles flickered around the altar, causing the paintings to shimmer. Angels with flaming swords vied against eagle-winged bulls. Childlike imps except for their old-man faces danced with satyrs. The newest addition stood man-tall in the corner: a brass idol of Bel, with massive shoulders and outsized hands held palms upward.

  Canaan touched the brass hands. “A baby, freely given and consecrated, preferably a firstborn son, must lie here when the palms glow red hot.”

  “Human sacrifice, Uncle?” Nimrod asked.

  In the candlelight, Canaan’s lean features seemed sinister. He wore his costly red robe and he had painted green malachite around his eyes.

  “I haven’t the time or the baby,” Nimrod said.

  “Then I guarantee nothing,” Canaan said, “not even that Bel will speak through me as he has in the past.”

  Canaan prayed often and alone in the temple, seeking contact with the gods. In his most mystical moments, he claimed to speak as a medium for them.

  Nimrod rapped a knuckle against the brass idol, indicating its hollowness. “That is the extent of your wizardly lore? Scorch a baby in the idol’s hands or you cannot be my medium?”

  “O terrible and mighty Sovereign of Babel. The keys to power aren’t easy and light, but dark and sinister. The gods recognize that all want power but that only a few have the will to gain it. The dark path lies as a gate, stopping those who lack the resolve.”

  “This is your wisdom?” scoffed Nimrod.

  “Who else has turned a staff into a snake? Who else gains answers from the very air when asked on moonless nights?”

  “I’m beginning to think that asking for your help was a mistake,” Nimrod said. “Watch me. I will show you magic that will blast your theories to dust. And I’ll do it without sacrificing babies.”

  Nimrod tossed his head like a lion and he put his hands on his hips. “Listen to me Bel, god of Babel. Tonight you must speak with me as you did on the banks of the Euphrates. Kush the Stargazer says that now is the time to attack Shem and Assur. But I don’t believe it, and even if it’s true, I have no intention of doing anything until you answer my questions.”

  “No, Sire,” Canaan said, tugging Nimrod’s sleeve. “You’ll anger Bel and bring wrath upon us.”

  Nimrod shook him off. “Do you hear that, Bel? My uncle says I’m angering you. I say he doesn’t understand what truly transpires. You need me. Me! Nimrod the Mighty Hunter, like unto a god. The stars tell me to subdue those who dare stand in the way of universal unity. The last time we did that, Noah advanced against us. With a gesture, he stole our army’s wits. How do I know that won’t happen again? How do I know you have the power to do as you promised?”

  A sound like a rushing wind stilled Nimrod’s speech. The idol’s eyes blazed as if with life.

  “Nimrod, Nimrod, why seek me this way?” spoke the idol, although its lips never moved nor did its brass eyes blink.

  “I play for the highest stakes,” Nimrod said. “And that troubles me, for I don’t yet know enough.”

  “Seek not to rise above your station, Mortal.”

  “That isn’t the way to speak to me, like unto a god. We are allies.”

  The idol’s eyes burned brightly.

  Canaan fell to his knees, bowing and throwing up his hands. “Mercy, O Bel, god of the sun. Have mercy on us.”

  Nimrod loosened his cloak as heat radiated from the idol. “Slay me if you can. But do not think to frighten me with a little light and heat.”

  The eyes dimmed until they only seemed like coals.

  “Thank you, Lord Bel,” whimpered Canaan. “Thank you, thank you. Forgive us, I beg. Please, do not hold this against us.”

  Nimrod booted his uncle so the old man sprawled him onto the floor. “Quit simpering. Stand up like a man.”

  Canaan groveled before the idol.

  “Stand up!” roared Nimrod, drawing his sword. “Stand up or I’ll kill you this instant.”

  Canaan scrambled to his feet, as he stared at Nimrod in terror.

  “Stand behind me, Uncle. I’ll shield you from Bel.”

  Canaan glanced at the idol before hurrying behind his nephew.

  “Hear me, Bel,” Nimrod said. “I would speak with your lord.”

  The idol remained silent.

  Nimrod marched to the idol, using the sword pommel to strike the bronze chest. “I demand an audience with Lucifer.”

  “You dare to—”

  Nimrod struck again, so the idol clanged hollowly. “I will not bow to anyone, man, devil or god. Yes! I dare, for I am like a god. I dare to challenge Jehovah. First, I want to know the truth. I demand to speak with my chief ally and benefactor.”

  “I speak for him, Mighty Hunter.”

  “And I’m telling you that’s not good enough. Tomorrow, atop the Tower, with Semiramis, Kush and Canaan, I demand an audience with the Dark Lord.”

  “To what end?”

  “To learn the truth,” Nimrod said.

  “The Tower has not yet been completed.”

  “I know. I’ve pushed hard like you commanded, building in a frenzy, making all Babel boil with activity. But the stars say that now is the time to attack the remnant. Before I attempt it a second time, I want direct counsel from Lucifer. He will have to be content with a partly finished Tower this time, or I will have to wait until the stars realign themselves once more.”

  There was silence… silence… “Tomorrow, atop the Tower, you will speak with Lucifer.” Then the eyes quit shining and they became as before.

  “Bel?” Nimrod asked, but he knew the presence had departed.

  Sheathing his sword, he took a rag from his pocket and wiped his face. His hand shook. He clenched it and willed it to be still. Then he turned to the trembling magician. “That, my uncle, is how you take the quick path to power.”

  6.

  Four of them stood at the base of the Tower. The stars winked on this cloudless night. During the day, laborers had pitched a purple tent at the apex and struggled up the stairs with a heavy brass shrine. Now the Tower plaza was empty and the steps awaited them like a path to doom.

  Nimrod glanced back at the others.

  “What possessed you to demand an audience with Satan?” Kush asked. He wore his priestly clothes. “And why do you need me?”

  “Have you already lost your nerve?” Nimrod asked.

  “Lost it? I never would have thought to desire this in the first place.”

  “Strange words from the one who first put humanity on this path,” Nimrod said.

  Kush scowled.

  Behind him, Canaan peered upward in terror. Semiramis seemed drugged; she wore sheer garments and bore a royal crown. Nimrod wore his leather hunting clothes, with his heavy bow slung across his shoulders.

  “The least you could have done was dress properly for the occasion,” Kush said.

  “I have,” Nimrod said. “As a hunter I gained power and as a hunter I rule. This is more than a symbol of my authority. It is my bedrock.”

  “I can’t do it,” whispered Canaan. “I yearn for secret knowledge. This I confess. But I…” He shook his head. “This isn’t the way to appease the gods. We march too proudly, too arrogantly.”

  “We’re not trying to appease them,” Nimrod said. “Now quit sniveling. Square your shoulders. If we’re going to die tonight, at least face it manfully and perish cursing them with ruin.”

  “Why curse?” Kush asked.

 
; “Can my arrows harm them?” Nimrod asked.

  “They are spirits,” Kush said.

  “Exactly. Yet didn’t Ham teach you that man is part spirit and part flesh.”

  “That’s what Noah taught him.”

  “Then perhaps the spirit part of me can make a curse stick,” Nimrod said, “especially if I’m raging.”

  Kush studied his son. “My anger is but a candle against your fire.”

  “That may be,” Nimrod said. “But at least you’re not sniveling. I’m beginning to see why Noah fingered Uncle Canaan as the slave.”

  That brought a look of reproach onto Canaan’s waxy features.

  “There!” Nimrod said, slapping his uncle on the back. “You’re as ready as you’re going to be.” He took Semiramis’ hand, gently tugging her. Together, the four started up the stairs.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Kush asked, halfway up.

  “Nothing,” Nimrod said.

  “Did you drug her?”

  Semiramis laughed in a throaty manner. Languidly, from beneath heavy-lidded eyes, she peered at her father-in-law.

  “What did you do to her?” Kush asked.

  “What I should have done to myself,” whispered Canaan.

  “You gave her one of your potions?” Kush asked.

  “She took one of her own,” Canaan said. He wrung his hands, and admitted, “In truth, she has more and varied draughts than I do. In this area, she teaches me.”

  “You shouldn’t have let her drug herself,” Kush said.

  “You forget yourself, Priest,” Nimrod said.

  The normal scowl lines deepened as Kush’s eyes took on their customary glower.

  In time, they reached the top, the fifth level, and entered the sprawling tent. Semiramis took a hot coal from a tiny clay pot dangling from her neck. One by one, she lit the four braziers around the brass shrine.

  “Where do you want us to stand?” Kush asked.

  “Behind me,” Nimrod said.

  Canaan hid behind the Mighty Hunter. Kush hitched his thumbs through his scarlet belt and took a wide stance. Semiramis swayed, with a secret smile upon her lips.

  Nimrod raised his hands.

  “Wait,” Canaan whispered.

  “What now?” Nimrod asked.

  “Where’s the sacrifice?”

  “If you don’t shut up, it’s going to be you.”

  Canaan knelt, bowing his head.

  Nimrod raised his hands. Eager expectation softened his features. “Lucifer, Leviathan, the Great Dragon of Heaven. You named Light-Bearer and called by others Satan. I have come tonight to speak with you. I do not beg, for I don’t believe you delight in simpering fools. I have brought no sacrifice, because my entire life has been one of devotion to the path scripted by you. However, I have begun to doubt your promises.

  “The reason is simple. Noah thwarted us the last time we attempted to bring the others under our sway. To butt heads with his favorite son, the one closest to Jehovah, gives me pause and makes me wonder if Bel is who he claims to be. For that matter, I wonder about you, Dark Lord. Are you a god? Or is Ham right? Are you a rebellious archangel who leads the rest of us to our eternal death? Tonight I want to clear this up to my satisfaction. Does this mean I think myself greater than you? I am not so foolish. Yet I am humanity’s king. I will rule and me they will worship, for I am like a god. What then are you?”

  A mote of light appeared above the brass shrine, a beautiful light, scintillating like a gem of rarest worth. It twirled and sparkled, shimmering and lovely and strangely haunting and hypnotic. Canaan sucked in his breath. Semiramis crooned and clapped her hands. Kush scowled, his mouth a line of disapproval. Nimrod watched like a hunter, waiting, with his hands lifted.

  The light pulsed and grew at each beat, bigger, larger, until it encompassed the shrine’s top.

  “Nimrod, Semiramis, Kush and Canaan, four of my finest pupils,” came a rich, melodious voice out of the air.

  “Dread Lord,” Canaan said, throwing up his arms.

  Kush knelt in a dignified manner.

  Semiramis collapsed, with her garment blooming like a flower around her waist, her head drooping and her dark tresses spread like freshly mown reeds.

  Only Nimrod remained upright, peering into the colorful light.

  “Nimrod the Mighty Hunter, bold lion of man, scion of Kush the Proud.”

  “You are Satan?” Nimrod asked.

  “I am.”

  Nimrod dipped his head as one equal to another. “I am the ruler of men.”

  “You are a hard taskmaster.”

  “Discipline brings unity,” Nimrod said, “Otherwise, there is chaos.”

  “True, my child. But you did not seek me in order to boast. Tonight you wish knowledge. Yes, I have long wished for one like you, Nimrod. You warm me with your boldness, with your courage and daring. One among men, I thought, must surely have the wit to throw off his chains and fight for freedom, fight for dignity and his humanity. No simpering coward you. No dupe who gladly wears his chains of servility like Noah and Shem. At last a man has arisen to lead his people to paradise. Yet now I find you wavering. Bel brings me word of double-guessing, fright and hesitation.”

  “I am a man, as you say,” Nimrod said. “As a man, I know only what I see. Noah halted us once by raising his staff so the thunderclouds rolled. It has given me pause. I’ve admitted that. Thus, tonight, I must know the truth.”

  “Is that all?” Satan sneered.

  “Grave Lord, Master of the bene elohim, I have been born into a world destroyed by flood. Jehovah did that. Word has also come to us that many of your kind were dragged to dark dungeons, never to be seen again until the end of days.”

  “Those are foul lies.”

  “So says Bel,” admitted Nimrod.

  “Do you think he spins fantasies?”

  “I think Noah stopped us by raising his staff and making the thunderclouds roll. I think Jehovah wiped out humanity once already, using a universal flood. How can these things be if you and Bel are gods just like Jehovah?”

  “You desire wisdom,” Satan said. “Then see the world as it was in the beginning. Learn how it began as you gird yourself for grim reality. Hold onto your sanity as you behold sights that no mortal has ever seen. Back in time, back to the beginning—before the Garden of Eden, before the Earth had been formed—let us go back to the original mass of watery vapor. I speak of the void, the swirling mass of chaos.”

  The ball of light expanded with scintillating colors: blue, red and green gems of brilliance. Nimrod gazed in awe, spellbound. Then he neared the beautiful vision.

  It expanded, and it seemed to Nimrod as if he was in it, swallowed up in another moment. Timelessness filled him with foreboding as he tumbled end over end, although he knew this was but a vision. A vast watery cloudy expanse spread everywhere, dark and gloomy, with a far off glow of unknown origin. Dread pounded in the Hunter’s chest. There was no Earth; it was without form and without foundations, a voice whispered to him. There was only this endless void of watery chaos, the primordial, primeval matter of the beginning.

  Then an amazing thing filled Nimrod with wonder. Bright beautiful beings, lovely and blazing, with skin like molten gold and flaming eyes, rose up out of the watery chaos. Thousands, millions of them fluttered silvery wings. They called to one another in musical tones. Yet one among them outshone everyone. Bigger, brighter, glorious and matchless in grace, that one left Nimrod speechless. Beauty unbelievable, as never he thought possible, confronted him.

  “As I was in the beginning, Mighty Hunter,” Satan whispered. “Behold, Lucifer, the Light-Bearer.”

  He is a god indeed, thought Nimrod. Satan is angelic, ethereal, spotless and pure.

  He sensed the beings—the angels on the day of their birth—delighting in their newborn awareness. They sang and marveled at this thing done to them. And One swathed in light, a being of mass indescribable, awesome, all-powerful, majestic and supreme, approached.

>   Nimrod turned to regard the One. Terror filled him, fear, dread and horror. Jehovah called the angels to Him.

  The Mighty Hunter sensed a sudden bafflement in Lucifer. Questions formed within the Light-Bearer. Who was Jehovah? Where had He come from?

  As Nimrod tumbled like a leaf in a hurricane, blow out of the glorious vision, out of the globe of light, the Mighty Hunter sensed a last fleeting scene. Lucifer, in all his glory, beauty and ethereal wisdom, urged fellow angels to heed his thought. They met in secret on a holy mountain covered with shiny stones.

  “Who is Jehovah?” Lucifer asked.

  “Our Maker and our Creator,” another angel said.

  “No!” Lucifer said. “That is a lie. Jehovah is the elder. I grant that as self-evident. But look to the facts. We came whole from the watery chaos. We sprang forth full born, self-created and self-wrought.”

  “How is that possible?” another angel asked.

  “An evolution of matter,” Lucifer said. “Perhaps it occurred over an eon of time. It only seemed sudden to us because with our birth came awareness.”

  “And Jehovah?”

  “He was the firstborn ahead of us. Yes, I grant you that his power is vast. But the idea that he was our Creator… No. That is a lie so you will meekly submit to his authority. But I say to you there is another way. We must band together and topple him from his throne. We are as good as him. The fact that we sprang forth second shouldn’t mean we’re his slaves forever. Rise up, angels! Become gods in your own right.”

  Then even that vision faded, and Nimrod found himself back in the tent atop the Tower of Babel—if they had ever left it.

  For a time, each blinked and shook his or her head, attempting to orient back to reality.

  “It was beautiful,” whispered Canaan.

  “Uncanny,” Semiramis said.

  Nimrod narrowed his eyes in thought.

  Kush said, “What did we see?”