So many eyes suddenly focused to the right of the door, the white-haired son of Lilith turned his head in the same direction, and then his jaw dropped open. Jubal raised his palm in greeting, but a sudden thought wiped the budding smile from his face. “Has Vashti been given the same message?”
“He and the boy arrived here a short while ago,” Japheth informed his son.
Oden took a deep breath and the action had taken just enough time for him to close his mouth and get over the initial shock. “Of course Vashti has heard the news. The pidgin was sent from Loki and received at my father’s coop,” he answered and then took another breath. “How did you manage to survive? How about the boy, is he alright?”
Jubal wanted more than ever to see his wife and barely registered the questions in his thoughts. When he hesitated to speak up, Herara responded, “My son used his considerable survival skills, one in particular was taught to him by Nimrod. Rue seems well nourished, clean, and in good health. We will give you a quick briefing on the remarkable tale, for now it might be best if Jubal departs from us so he can show his wife her husband is not dead.”
Taking his mother’s words as permission to leave, Jubal bolted out the door with the oar clacking on the floorboards as he moved in haste. He had no idea where exactly Rue had been taken, so hoped the lad would be near where they had come ashore, and went as swiftly as he could through the halls, ignoring the raised eyebrows and questioning looks on the many faces. He hobbled through the front door of the huge log dwelling and out among the throng of people who had taken up refuge on the hill. Folks called to him but he made no reply, so anxious was he to see his wife.
Navigating around the many Tinies and their temporary dwellings slowed him some, but he pressed on, his thoughts dominated by how Vashti must have taken the news of his supposed demise. He imagined she would be in a great deal of pain and arriving in the flesh was the quickest way to end her ordeal.
Half way down to where his canoe was lying about thirty paces out of the water, he spotted Reu and five other boys standing around the craft under the watchful eyes of Jermeena the daughter of Serafa. All but one of the lads was wearing linen tunics.
“Uncle Jubal, I was just telling them how you magically moved the shaping stone to carve this,” his nephew explained.
Ramses, son of Set, wearing a tunic made from Crocodile hide, shook his head dismissively. “Tell him no one can work magic except my uncle Nimrod.”
The boy was only a year older than Rue and yet stood taller than Jermeena. It was clear all of the smaller boys looked to him as their natural leader.
Jubal came to a stop. He glanced at the canoe and then eyed Japheth’s Hill, judging the distance and figuring how long it would take to row the expanse; too long. He made his decision and focused on Rue. “Your mother is on Shem’s Hill. You can stay here and wait for an adult to take you there, but I am going to see Vashti, and if you are coming with me, we are leaving right now.”
Rue hopped into the canoe. “I’m with you,” he said without hesitation, not even asking whether or not the ancients were so happy they forgot to be mad.
“Aren’t you going to tell him about magic?” Ramses demanded sounding a lot like Set, only with a much higher voice, yet the attitude matched perfectly.
Jubal reached into the canoe and lifted Rue, placing the lad on his left shoulder, and then grabbed the oar. “Certainly, I will tell him. Reu, what I do looks a lot like magic but it is actually the manipulation of life-force energy summoned for a particular purpose,” he replied while the Melody played in his mind.
“It’s what?” his nephew responded. The scrunched together eyebrows suggested he was totally confused.
“Call it magic if it pleases you. Either way, we are not using the canoe to get from here to there,” Jubal explained and then focused the potential beneath his feet.
“Wow!” The voices in chorus came from Jermeena and the five boys, and then Rue shouted, “Told you so!”
Ramses and his four friends stared in wonder, mouths open wide, as Jubal levitated straight up, halting at about thirty paces above the ground, and then moved over the water, slowly but faster than any boat could ever be rowed. Jermeena waved a farewell as the wind whipped at her pale robe, and then the young woman focused her attention on the lads in her care.
With the oar in his right hand and Rue on his left shoulder, Jubal stood rod straight while scores of boaters pointed in his direction and shouted out his name. “I told them but they wouldn’t believe me,” his nephew informed while clinging to his uncle’s head with both hands.
The water between the hills was deep but the distance from Noah’s Hill to Shem’s Hill was only a thousand paces at most. The wind whipped Jubal’s hair about and flapped his tattered coat wildly as he moved steadily above the flowing waves, drawing the attention of every boater on the surface and folks pointing and shouting from the island hills. Rue laughed and seemed to be enjoying the ride.
By the time Jubal was floating over ground, hundreds of people had come out of their dwellings, and among them, Vashti, which was why he deliberately created the spectacle. He slowly started his descent right in front of her and the crowd wisely made room as it became obvious where he intended to set down. The purpose had not been to show off, but to quickly draw the most attention possible. There was no way the news of his astonishing arrival would fail to reach her, which would result in her learning he was still alive all the quicker. Contrary to what many people believed, he did occasionally plan ahead to achieve a goal, at least a few moments ahead.
He lowered Rue to the ground and a split second later Vashti slammed against her husband, knocking the oar from his hand. “Is this the kind of entrance you had in mind?” He asked while holding her close. “Does this count as putting myself forward a little more?”
With her in his arms he suddenly felt everything was right in the world. “I love you,” he spoke softly in her ear.
She kissed him, right there in front of everybody. When her lips came away from his, she responded to the reference concerning what she had told him in the Place of Meeting, “Yes, but you could have dressed better, yet I love you anyway.”
Jubal laughed and so did she as tears flowed from her violet eyes. He gently wiped the moisture from her cheeks with his hands, enjoying the up close view of her facial features which were beautifully framed by silky white hair. “You might want to send a pidgin to the encampment so they will know Rue and I are alive and well.”
She kissed him again and then rested her head on his shoulder. “I knew the message was wrong and you were alive. How else could you and I have a descendant named Daniel in the far future? The priest has never been wrong.”
He had no doubt Mel’s words had kept her from giving up hope, but the relief in her eyes at seeing her husband in the flesh told him the single strand of possibility had been a tenuous thing. “I was not so sure of surviving during the worst of the storm, but the Melody Roddy composed saved me and Rue more than a few times,” he admitted, but did not want to go into details at the moment, being eager to be alone with her. “I will tell you all about it later.”
She shifted around to his weaker side while keeping one arm around his bare waist and her shoulder under his arm, providing support. Her eyes darted from woman to woman in among the throng of people and seemed to be sending the message, “this man is mine and don’t any of you forget it.” Out loud she said, “Someone else can worry about sending the dispatch. I am taking you to my quarters where I can thoroughly assess your condition.”
Jubal knew she would look him over fully, but also knew what would follow the physical assessment, and that was something she would not say in front of so many listeners, especially young Rue.
“Where Nimrod leads, Jubal is soon to follow,” Pan stated while stepping out of the crowd with an infant wrapped in swaddling cradled in his right arm.
Natura, eyes a vivid green, came with him, and carrying the other twin. Her skin tone
matched the color of pine and her long brown hair flowed down her shoulders in waves. She looked so well it was hard to believe she had recently given birth. “Roddy floats in the air and so does Jubal,” the wooly man added.
“Jubal, Jubal, Jubal,” hundreds of voices shouted spontaneously. It was far more attention than he wanted, yet he accepted the adulation as the price of getting word to his wife in the fastest time possible. He waved at them and they shouted all the more.
“This wee lad is Gemini and the name of the wee lass in my wife’s arms is, Gemma,” Pan announced, although his normally powerful voice could be hardly heard over the chanting crowd.
Jubal nodded his head and pointed to his nephew. “This is Rue son of Peleg.”
Natura looked down at the boy. “I think you should come with me while Vashti sees to her husband’s injuries.”
Rue picked up the oar and looked from her to Jubal. “I will bring this to you after she finishes looking at your foot.”
He did not know Medica had already tended to the infected appendage, but clearly remembered the earlier conversation about his uncle wanting to see Vashti. Jubal leaned a little lower and looked the boy in the eyes. “It might take some time, maybe all night, but you can come see us in the morning.”
“I can bring the lad in the morning,” Pan kindly offered.
Jubal eyed his friend and fellow hunter. “I can’t say I wish it was me chosen to do the scouting this time.”
Pan’s thick eyebrows arched up. “Scouting for what, when?”
“Animals to eat and soon,” Jubal replied.
“If there is scouting to be done, I bet you volunteered and were turned down by someone older who could see you are not fit to perform the task,” Vashti interrupted, “you are hardly able to walk. If the condition of that foot has not taught you better, I have a lesson in mind to help diminish your eagerness to be away from me so soon after getting back.”
His wife knew him perhaps too well and he did not bother denying the accuracy of her assumption, but knew better than to confirm the fact. The widening of her pupils and set of her eyes told him she was not angry, far from it, his mate was in the mood for love.
“Come with me Rue,” Natura said with a smile. “Your uncle needs to be taken care of and I have some food that needs eating.”
“No one has told me anything about scouting,” Pan spoke as if neither woman had said a word.
“Someone soon will,” Jubal told him and then moved with his wife toward the massive wooden structure, looking forward to the lesson.
“Jubal, Jubal, Jubal,” the crowd chanted and parted to allow passage through their midst.
-----
Canaan stood in a large room used for storage, mostly filled with baskets of vegetables and grain. He held the only lamp, which gave off a quivering light, illuminating the faces of Magog, Cush, Aram, and Gomer. “I also am concerned about the increasing power of the Nephilim,” Canaan told them. “Especially those chosen to be leaders of the people, all of them are ambitious, Ra and Nimrod being highest on the list.”
Cush nodded his head. “Both of my sons crave power and now thanks to my youngest, all Nephilim will become even more powerful than they already are. My boys are headstrong enough as it is, as are their wives, and I think Vivian’s window of respect will close quicker than she and Noah believe, and far quicker than any of us thought.”
Magog took a deep breath while shaking his head. “I fault not our ancient parents or grandparents for having more faith in the Nephilim than we do. Perhaps it is because the eight of them spend so much time on their hills rather than out among the populace. Whatever the reason for their faith, we clearly do not share the belief the Nephilim will respect us long enough to be taught properly. We will have to take steps to ensure our places as heads of our tribes, lest we be supplanted by our larger and potentially more powerful offspring, and younger brothers and sisters.”
Gomer cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to him. “You two, Cush and Canaan, as sons of Ham, have a better chance of influencing the Nephilim than I or Magog do. Even Aram has a better chance. Ra will cling to power like a boa constrictor and everyone who wants to wield the Aaka will have to deal with Nimrod. Jubal, though young and impulsive, can be persuaded by an older brother he clearly respects, and do not forget Kronos. He has always listened to Aram.”
Aram sighed. “Jubal is loyal to the chief Weapocarn and will likely do whatever he is told,” Cush confirmed the assessment with a quick nod of his head, but did not interrupt. “Roddy has more influence over my brother than I do, but you have a point with Kronos. He and I have a closer relationship and my grandson, Pan, is a skillful player of the flute, and is likely to become a skilled wielder of the Melody. He respects me, for now, but who can say how long that will last.”
Canaan laughed at the mention of him having an easier chance. “My tribe has very few Nephilim, most of the giants are Anakim, and my influence is not so great over my ambitious nephews.” The statement was true for the most part, but an understatement of the reality.
Magog snorted a laugh. “Your son and daughter, Balam and Ashra, are ambitious enough for any ten Nephilim you can mention, Hera, Rhea, and Semiramis are married to three of the most powerful leaders, and more than half of the Weapocarns are from your tribe. Those particular hunters descended from you will not be able to wield the pool of life-force energy, but the giants are still among the fiercest weapon-wielders that walk the earth. Even your brother Thoth, who is exceedingly quick to learn, listens to you,” he stated and paused. “Sorry, Cush, but it is true, your Nephilim brother has a fondness for Canaan, and is barely civil with you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” the first born son of Ham replied, blank-faced as if he was long past caring about the issue.
Canaan conceded the point with a nod, knowing he had fooled no one about the level of control he actually had. “Your assessments of my influence are true enough for now, but only time can show us who the members of my tribe will eventually follow. Cush is correct, the time for us to act is now, which is why I called this meeting. Gomer, do not pretend you have a harder patch to hoe than the rest of us. Oden’s aspirations are high as the heavens and your brother is fond of you. Aram, Zeus and Hera love the accolades and are the parents of half a score of Nephilim and the fertile couple is likely to produce many more. Mark my words, they are creating a dynasty. Do not think for a moment either of them will allow power to slip from their grasps.”
Canaan understood Oden was not so fond of the belligerent Magog, so chose not to include him in the useless assessment of relative difficulty. The degree of effort did not change what needed to be done.
Aram threw his arms open wide as if ready to receive whatever was offered. “What do you propose?”
Canaan smiled, knowing he had them where he wanted. “First, Cush must do everything he can to keep the respect of his two powerful sons for as long as possible, I will do the same with my daughters. Second, we need to find a way to separate or insulate the Nephilim from the majority of people. We must also do everything we can to stroke their egos while subtly communicating to the rest of the population how arrogant their larger and more powerful kin have become, doing so may alienate a sizable number. I also propose we emphasize the general responsibility to fill the earth.”
Cush nodded his understanding, but then shook his head in distaste. “Your plan would cause a wide rift and encourage them to leave us, dividing the population, and cost me control of my most powerful offspring.”
Canaan looked him in the eyes. “Think about it man, you will lose them anyway. At least with my plan all of us will suffer some loss of control, but we can still rule over the remainder. One thing is certain; we will lose all control if we do nothing and in a very short amount of time.”
“We will do whatever is necessary to ensure the remainder you spoke of is as large as possible,” Magog added his opinion, which Canaan shared and was pleased; since it implied agreement w
ith the plan.
The men stood silently, each no doubt contemplating the situation and possible outcome.
“We will do as you suggest and begin teaching the Nephilim to rule,” Cush agreed, “and make them so arrogant their towering egos will cause jealousy and resentment, even among themselves. Many people will continue to come to us for guidance and leadership, seeing we elders as the more attractive and familiar source.”
“Let the lesson begin,” Magog stated while rubbing his hands together.
Aram and Gomer nodded their agreement and Canaan knew what they had decided was best for everyone, even if the two ancients and other elders would not see it so or approve of the plan. Hopefully they would only see the result and never know the rift had been orchestrated. “We will start with Ra, Oden, and Zeus. I will then talk with my gargantuan daughters. Gomer can send pidgins to the encampment to inform the caravan leaders of our willingness to guide them in fulfilling their higher positions as leaders of the people.”
-----
Oden at first had difficulty accepting the trickster Loki’s story about Jubal suspending a pack of wolves in the air and allegedly pulling apart a fallen tree that had been blocking the path to high ground, so had regulated that part of the message to the back of his mind, and had focused on the probable deaths. Turning to see the raggedly dressed husband of Vashti had brought the first part of the message fully back to the forefront. After listening to the elders, primarily Shem, tell of the remarkable survival, Oden sought out and arranged a meeting with Ra and Zeus. Kronos had been arguing with his younger brother and being present, was invited to take part.
The small room behind the stage in the Place of Meeting had a pair of standing lamps and benches along the walls rather than chairs. Oden sat across from the two chosen leaders and the official keeper of time. “We three have been appointed by our respective mothers as leaders of the Anakim and Nephilim,” he began while ignoring the expression souring the face of Kronos, who clearly resented his younger brother having authority over him even on a temporary basis.
Dawn Of The Aakacarns Page 13