What Ra said was true, about the rashness, and the projects Jubal had requested of Tubal. Each of the Nephilim present were leaders, even the twins, although Artemis only allowed women on her team, but Jubal figured being second to Nimrod, on his team and close to his number of kills, was not a bad place to be. Hunting food and protecting the people from predators was something Jubal did well, but his passions also lay with the arts, and being with Vashti, so he did his best to balance those interests and responsibilities.
“Still,” Isis spoke up, her dark eyes sparkling with an inner light. The shrewd mind she possessed gave her the ability to sum up numbers quickly, and Jubal could tell she was doing some quick figuring. “He made a kill to be proud of and fulfilled his duty to the people. No one but Nimrod has a greater number of kills. I would gladly take Jubal on my team in a heartbeat.”
“As would I,” Osiris stated with a firm nod, causing his topknot to sway.
Roddy shook his head. “Jubal hunts for Nimrod.” He said it with a grin, but the statement was serious, the chief hunter had no intention of losing his most valuable team member, and that fact was made very clear.
No one disputed the declaration and quiet settled on the group while their eyes flicked back and forth from the lion to the mighty hunter. No doubt each of them was trying to imagine the struggle that had taken placed between the two and would want a thorough telling of the encounter, which Jubal would happily provide to them and everyone in the settlement who wanted to hear the tale. Artists would draw pictures to commemorate the deed and Roddy would bask in the attention and so would his wife Semiramis, a daughter of Canaan.
“This foray into the woods did not come at a good time,” Ra broke the silence. “The matriarchs have called for all Nephilim to enter the Place of Meeting and we stand a good chance of being late. I detest being late,” that last he said in an ominous tone.
“They rarely call for such a thing and rarer still, a meeting with just the Nephilim,” Roddy remarked, “and never in the evening. What could be so important?”
“Perhaps Grandma Herara wants to have a word or two about a son of hers who runs off chasing lions,” Artemis evidently could not hold back the comment. It was clear she was not speaking of Zeus.
She must have thought the comment to be funny. The snickering coming from her brother indicated he found her wit amusing. Their mother, Hera, was known for her wicked sense of humor so Jubal knew they came by the trait honestly and decided to let the statement go without making a response. At least he thought Zeus’s wife was jesting when she threatened to rip people’s arms off and beat them with the bloody appendages.
Ra rolled his eyes and shook his head, clearly disapproving of the immaturity on display before him. His gaze touched everyone until gaining their undivided attention, “Vivian, the great lady, has had a viewing that involves us specifically and she sees the deaths of many in the future, including her own and the patriarch.” he stated gravely.
A small number of deaths occurred since the flood, not many, and then only by accident or animal attack. People had been hurt in fights, but no one had lost their life as a result. A tingle shot up Jubal’s spine at hearing the words. Noah and Vivian were ancient and seemed to be practically eternal. The thought of either one of them dying was almost too much to bear and so he had trouble accepting the statement.
“That is not funny,” Artemis told the hairless hunter. “I think you just want to get back at us for making light of the meeting.” She had nodded toward Apollo in the middle of that sentence.
Zeus shook his head in response to her theory. “Ra is correct,” he confirmed, which gave credence to the notion of many deaths taking place, including the two eldest, doubtless to happen in the near future. Otherwise, why call such a restricted meeting on short notice?
Ra had never been accused of possessing a sense of humor and it was doubtful he would lie about something so disturbingly dire, and with the venerable father of the twins backing him up, Jubal had to accept the words as being true. Brother Zeus was venerated by many people, a fact that could not be denied, even if it did give him an ego equal to those of the bronze-hairless-hunter and Nimrod.
The very idea of people dying in mass was frightening. “Whatever she asks of us, we must do,” Jubal felt compelled to say, and the others suddenly looked at him as if he had just declared water to be wet. “We better hurry,” he added, which earned sober nods of approval.
Chapter Two: The Purpose
When Jubal and the hunters entered the Place of Meeting, the hundreds of long benches, partitioned in three sections for the descendants of the sons of Noah, were lightly occupied by the mere three hundred-ten people who were already seated. Most of them were dressed in wool robes, animal skins, linen, or combinations of the three. Some few like Semiramis wore silk as did Hera; both often sported jeweled necklaces and rings. They were the trend setters with egos to match those of their husbands. Vashti possessed a natural beauty that did not need greater adornment; an opinion which Jubal admitted was totally biased and yet held to none-the-less.
The first few rows of each section were in use, the rest were vacant. They faced a multi-level stage. The top level had two chairs with only one occupied. The meeting had been called by the matriarchs and so Vivian sat alone. Sitting in front of and below her were Lilith, Herara, and Sheba, the three remaining chairs on their level were empty.
Jubal grew nervous as the eyes of the female elders fixed directly upon him, causing the men and women in the benches to turn around to see who the recipient of those stares was. He was tempted to smile and wave to his mother but the solemnity of the occasion called for decorum, and he did not dare give in to the notion.
“Now that my son and those who went out to find him have finished telling the tale to the masses, and have finally seen fit to join us, we can begin,” Herara stated in a voice that was loud and clear. Obviously word of the exploits had reached the attendees of the meeting.
Truly it had not taken very much time to stop and give a brief statement to the well-wishers who had greeted them upon returning from the hunt. It was only natural Roddy would feel the need to say a few words about the way he had killed the lion, Jubal understood that, even though stopping to talk had not been his idea. Even so, he nodded acceptance of the mild rebuke and kept walking.
“Leave it to Jubal to hold things up,” the baritone voice of Set, second-born son of Ra, came from the section to the left, earning a few nods and snickers.
Jubal could not see the brother of Osiris among the crowd, did not bother to try, and wondered why the elders had delayed the start of the meeting just for a small group of hunters.
“Leave it to my nephew to speak when he should be silent,” Bast, the daughter of Sheba called out. She was the most skilled member on the team of Weapocarns led by Artemis and often crossed paths with Jubal while on the hunt. He saved her life once and they had been friends ever since.
People spent a few more moments staring at him and then went back to facing forward while he scanned the center section dedicated to the tribe of Shem, taking only a few moments to locate Vashti on the far end of the second row. She was the only woman with white hair in the entire section, so spotting his wife had not been difficult. Up until they married she sat in the rows on the right, her being an offspring of Japheth.
Jubal headed for the spot his wife had saved, but caught the squinty-eyed stare and wrinkled brow Ra aimed at him to show his disapproval of being late. The big man did not aim that look at his brother, who was the real cause for the delayed arrival. But then, if Jubal had not gone hunting, none of them would have been tardy. Still, Ra could have gone on to the meeting instead of stopping to brag on his younger brother and the glory brought to the tribe of Cush.
Kronos, with hair the color of spun copper and skin to match, frowned at his younger brother. The sixth son of Shem had an obsession when it came to keeping time, having invented an hour glass and a sundial in order to keep track of
the intervals. He also made a huge glass with enough sand to last the entire night or day for when the sun went down or clouds blocked the radiant beams.
At least Vashti had a smile for her husband as he sat down after nodding a greeting to his brother’s wife, Hera, who was of the tribe of Canaan. Vashti’s almond-shaped violet eyes widened approvingly and Jubal thought for a moment she was going to kiss him then and there, but she simply reached out and took his copper-colored hand in hers. “You did great, but could have handled the return better, my love,” she said, and sighed softly. “You don’t promote yourself enough. I heard you quietly gave your kill to the priest.”
Jubal tilted his head closer to her ear, which was a shade less white than her hair. “I did it to show gratitude for a successful hunt and for returning alive to tell about it,” he spoke in quiet tones so his voice would not carry. “He told me the lion I slew was the one that killed Gero, it made me feel good to think so, and anyway, I don’t need to promote myself. Our community has enough men with towering egos without me putting on airs.”
Vashti shook her head as if he was simply not catching her meaning. “I don’t expect you to brag, my love, and I am not questioning your piety or the good feelings the words of the priest inspired in you, but listen. Do you know what Semiramis is going to tell Roddy to do with his kill?” When he shook his head, she answered, “She wants him to give it to the tanner to be made into a coat. Nimrod will do it too and you can bet he is going to wear it over his hunting outfit to remind everyone of his prowess.”
He gazed at the woman who closely resembled her mother. “People already know of his prowess, that is why such a young man has risen to be chief Weapocarn. I have made nearly as many kills as Roddy and people know it and have shown me no small amount of respect as a result,” Jubal replied, explaining the situation. “Even after hearing what you told me, I still have no regrets over my lion being given as a burnt offering to the Creator.”
Vashti brought his hand up to her pink lips and kissed it. “I don’t want or expect you to feel regrets; only to encourage you to put yourself forward a little more so people can see what I see; a multitalented young man who has a lot to offer our community.”
He was not sure how to respond to her words, but was saved for the moment when Vivian stood up. She was the only person in the room who was not a Nephilim. In the Cush standard of measurement she was five and a half feet tall. The wife of Noah had dark hair and hazel eyes and her skin, though heavily wrinkled, had a peachy complexion. She wore a gown of gray wool and a white shawl over her shoulders.
Noah, Shem, Ham, and Japheth were about six feet in stature and their skin and hair tones were reddish in color, although Noah’s hair had gone completely white long before Jubal’s birth. It was Vivian and the wives of the three men credited with the diversity of skin tones, heights, and eye-shapes born to the offspring.
The three younger matriarchs were Nephilim and were approximately eight feet in height, all were beautiful, and had smooth skin, even though each was over three hundred years old. Their clothing was similar to that of Vivian, except they were not wearing shawls. Their skin tone and other physical attributes is what set them apart.
Herara’s complexion was like copper and her irises were so black it seemed each orb had one giant pupil. She had thick dark hair, and her nose, small and slender, was set in the middle of a long face. Jubal took after her in those respects, although with a more angular and masculine face.
Lilith had skin the color of alabaster, her lavender eyes were shaped like almonds, and her shimmering hair seemed to have been spun of fine white silk. Her nose was a little wider than that of Jubal’s mother, but tilted up just a little bit. She did not smile often but dimples appeared in her cheeks whenever the rare moment occurred. None of the survivors of the Event smiled much, one would think living through a major disaster was reason enough to crack a smile at least once in a while.
Sheba’s skin had the color of bronze, shiny and smooth, and her nose, just above a pair of full lips, was broader than those of the other two matriarchs. Pitch black hair framed a round face made even more compelling by her bright amber eyes.
Noah, Shem, Ham, and Japheth all had brown eyes and noses that angled slightly downward, those traits were prevalent in the general population. Never-the-less, many of the offspring, because of the mothers, had skin tones varying from coal black to alabaster white, and every shade in between. The same was true about the eye color, type of hair, width of lips, shapes of noses, and the physical stature of the children born in each new generation.
Jubal took a few moments to glance around the room even though he had viewed the assembly area many times in the past. The Place of Meeting stood ten cubits high, five hundred cubits long and three hundred cubits wide. It was a log structure with a flat roof, also made of timber, as was the floor. Oil lamps provided a flickering light as he studied his surroundings, but his attention was suddenly drawn back to his father’s mother when Vashti bumped her shoulder against his while whispering, “Pay attention.”
“I have discussed my viewing of what we are facing with Noah, my sons, and their wives, and all are in agreement,” Vivian was saying. “We have an immediate threat and some developments that must be dealt with in the near future. Honored priest, would you grace us with a message before we proceed?”
Tubal figured the immediate threat had to do with the deaths Ra had spoken of and he could feel Vashti’s grip tighten. She had to be feeling just as anxious over what they were about to be told.
A white-robed figure stepped onto the stage. Gold-wavy hair could be seen beneath the hood. He had no whiskers, yet Jubal doubted a razor had ever touched the priest’s smooth face. The non-Nephilim had piercing blue eyes that held a wisdom born of experience beyond that of Noah, yet no one would call him a youth or an elder.
Who were his mother and father?
No one knew and it was impossible to put an age to him. No one knew where he lived, only that he would show up at the settlement from time to time, accepted offerings, and sometimes would give a message said to be from the Creator. Whether or not the messages were actually from the Almighty, Jubal did not know, but the words had the ring of truth, so it seemed prudent to heed them, especially since the elders held the man in high regard. Jubal also appreciated the fact that the messages tended to be short and to the point.
“The entire earth is shifting on its axis, this means weather patterns are going to change over time and will not settle until the shift is complete. The new slant to the circle of the earth will create seasonal changes far more drastic than anything you have experienced in the past. What is a dense forest now may become a desert and the lands in the extreme north and south will begin to freeze. Earthquakes will break apart huge land masses, rushing water will carve huge canyons, rivers will alter their courses, and what would normally take scores of millennia to occur will happen within a century. As a result of all the titanic forces in play, a storm has been raging in the mountains and excess water is flowing into the river. This is just the start of the events I just described and so know this; heavy rains will be here by noon tomorrow. Already the river is rising. The Euphrates will overflow its banks and there will be much flooding. The waters will crest in three days and then gradually go back to their customary boundaries,” the priest of the Most High stated in calm tones.
The man had spoken of impending doom as if it was an ordinary event like, “That couple over there have been newly-wedded and need to build a dwelling to live in.”
“Flood,” Jubal thought, the most terrifying word known to man. “Why, what evil have we done?” he blurted out a little too loudly.
Gasps came from all over the room, even from the stage. He probably should not have interrupted the warning, not even Roddy possessed nerve enough to ask the question so boldly, yet Jubal simply had to know the answer. The elders shocked response seemed in reaction to the question, not the message. They already knew a flood was com
ing, he realized, perhaps because of the viewing.
Piercing blue eyes fixed on the one person in the room who dared to speak. “Young man, the storm is not a punishment for evil deeds. It is a result of natural forces and is something to be prepared for in advance. Failure to heed the warning will result in widespread death and destruction.”
The priest certainly lived up to his reputation of being direct and to the point, rather than couching his words in flowery or vague speech.
“We were promised there would be no more floods,” Roddy spoke as if an agreed upon barter had been dishonored, and he had done so in a tone that was unadvisable when addressing the priest. “The rainbow was given as surety against a future deluge or so we have been told.”
“He probably spoke up because you did,” Vashti commented in Jubal’s ear.
“Rainbows form every time sunlight shines through mist,” Isis called out. “I can make one happen by spraying water in the morning if you would like a demonstration.”
“I don’t care how the thing is formed,” Roddy replied. “I just want to know if we can trust the promise it is supposed to represent.”
“So speaks the mighty hunter before the Lord,” replied the blue-eyed man. “The world will never be flooded again, that promise was made and will always stand, but there will be areas and regions in which flooding will occur in the natural course of events, especially over the next few years,” he replied and eyed everyone in the room, then turned to face the matriarchs. “The warning has been delivered. Do with it what you will.” The words seemed to hang in the air as he walked off the stage, stared directly at Jubal for a few moments, and then strode out the door.
The final look probably meant little, Jubal convinced himself. Whether or not Roddy had spoken because Jubal had, simply did not matter, he was more interested in what Vivian would say next. The great lady cleared her throat and continued the meeting. “Three thousand sixty-seven Anakim have been born to us, along with three hundred-eighteen Nephilim. You have a purpose beyond being fruitful and multiplying. There is a reason why so few of you have been born among a population of more than thirty thousand people.”
Dawn Of The Aakacarns Page 3