Dawn Of The Aakacarns

by John Buttrick

  He glanced at Semi’s copy of the Aaka and then smiled. “I will use a Da Capo on the way back. It is exceedingly hard to keep the Aaka firmly in mind while floating over water and avoiding the countless branches. Since the end point appears nowhere among the notes, I will tie it to my life-force.” It was a good assumption on his part.

  Technically, he taught himself after seeing the repeater at the end of the last note, so his ego did not suffer any bruising. Jubal simply nodded his head and decided to speak of Roddy’s plan. “I will not allow anyone to flatter me into opposing you. Politics is not my area of interest and I gladly leave such things up to you. What is the plan?”

  “In brief, we will win over the hearts of the people. My husband and I will wield the Aaka to spectacular effect,” Semiramis answered and her pleasant smiled turn hard. “We will control them through awe or fear, either way we will rule.”

  “I have no intention of challenging the ancients,” Nimrod gave the assurance, which he had to know Jubal needed to hear. “But it may be necessary to isolate their influence. Ra, Oden, and the other Nephilim are right where we want them. They need me to provide the Aakas and you to teach them. However, there will be some Melodies that I hope to compose that will be restricted to you, me, Semiramis, and Vashti. Politics is not your forte but you are crafty and quick to develop better ways of doing things, such as adding a Da Capo. I will create the Aakas and you will figure out the best ways to implement them.”

  “That I will,” Jubal replied, “and can hardly wait to hear and record your next tune. While I do not disagree with your plan to awe the masses, might it not be good to also give them a better vison of the future. Everyone else seems to be thinking about ruling this low-lying area that has just proven vulnerable. I scouted a much higher elevated land not more than thirty-seven spans down river. The soil is rich for farming and the hunting is good. Awe and fear definitely can motivate people to do what you say, but promising them safety and a better way of life will make them want to follow you or so it seems to me.”

  “I like that notion, relocating provides a way to isolate the ancients, and most people have to rebuild their homes anyway. The higher we are, the less we will be threatened by the next flood,” Roddy began rubbing his hands together. “The only food here is what was collected before the storm, so we can promise them plenty to eat and a better place to live.”

  A fire seemed to have ignited in the eyes of Semiramis. “That’s right. The people will flock to us, but we must make what we offer seemed grand beside the stagnant leadership the elders provide and the no-better alternatives presented by Zeus, Ra, Oden, or any others among the Nephilim who would think of being rulers.”

  Jubal thought about some of the conversations he had with Hades in the past. The man was always happy to share the things he discovered about the human way of life before the flood. “Currently people are residing either in the settlement or the encampment, neither of those terms, while accurate, inspires anyone. Large settlements before the great deluge were called cities.”

  Roddy’s eyes widened at whatever memory the word had snared in his mind. “I seem to remember Imhotep speaking of the same thing. Cities were ruled by kings and queens, the titles can be used again. In addition, giving the master builder the opportunity to conceive and build such a city would win him to our side in a heartbeat.”

  Jubal knew the clever builder who had figured out mixing bricks with straw made the blocks stronger would indeed be eager to direct the building of a city. “I agree, but a city must have a name.”

  Nimrod turned to his wife. “It will be the first city built after the flood. Therefore we shall call it, Semidon.”

  Semi, his fond name for her, don, indicated the first city, and Jubal thought it appropriate, also vain, but the settlement had to be called something, and naming it after the wife of Nimrod would do. It certainly pleased his wife, which helped if he wanted to enjoy his time alone with her. “I am sure the two of you can convince the people Semidon is the place they want to be. What do you want me to do while you are leading the people of Ham back here?”

  Roddy clapped Jubal on the back. “Keep teaching my Aaka to the Nephilim and develop ways to use our Creator-given power more effectively. Leave the politics and talking of a better future to Semiramis. In a few days the water should recede to pre-storm levels and I will then lead the caravan back to this settlement.”

  “Set will work for Ra,” Jubal felt the need to say.

  Semiramis stared at him as if he had just declared water to be wet; it was a look he was used to receiving.

  Roddy smiled and shook his head at hearing the remark. “Loki is not the only one who has a habit of stating the obvious. Set will always follow Ra, to his face, yet the man has his own agenda, of that I am sure. Worry not, by the time I return here, every person in all three caravans will know of Semidon and the safety it will provide on higher ground. We have the plan and the location, no one else has better to offer.”

  When the couple exited the chamber, Jubal sat down on the edge of the bed, and enjoyed the fact that he had influenced them to resettle in the area where he and Rue lived in the hut. He had pointed out a direction and hoped it truly was the right way to go or was he hoping to hurry along that ideal fantasy world? He decided his motivation did not matter; it was the fact humanity was going to move in a positive direction that pleased him. Satisfied, Jubal began thinking of Aakatools and removed a lyre from the box. He was curious to know if the specific sound of the flute was required or if a string vibrating the same notes would work just as well.

  He played the Melody and knew by the sensation of potential building up within him that the effort would prove successful. He plucked the final note, indigo radiance filled the room, and he added a Da Capo, then set the lyre aside and levitated up off the bed.

  Vashti dashed into the room moments later, “I heard Nimrod was here.”

  Jubal nodded. “Play the Melody, come float up beside me, and I’ll tell you everything Roddy and Semiramis plan to do.”

  She did as he suggested and was soon right next to him. They spent time kissing and then he told her the details, ending with his success with the lyre.

  Chapter Nine: A Better Way

  The following day while Semi was out dazzling the population with her skill at levitating objects using the sound of her voice to summon potential, Jubal finally received the Aakatools he had requested from Tubal. The brass lyre and pair of long flutes were beautiful and shiny; all masterpieces in craftsmanship. Even so, it was the smith’s own innovation that truly caught the eye. Vashti’s older brother added a reed to the mouth piece of the longest flute ever made with more holes for fingering notes than Jubal had ever seen, eight with valve extensions along the side to four more holes that were farther down the shaft. With twelve holes the range of tones the instrument could produce was phenomenal and the addition of the reed made a sweet sound that was truly pleasant to the ear. Jubal had been hooked the moment his gaze locked onto the instrument, making him eager to have one of his own.

  The forger-of-metals smiled and handed it over. “Call it a gratuity for your teaching,” Tubal insisted, which sounded better than calling it a bribe in exchange for an unscheduled lesson.

  Since the man met the requirements of knowing how to play the flute and could read the language, Jubal accepted the instrument. “Let’s turn over a sandglass and see how much I can teach you before all the granules drain to the lower half,” he replied without consulting his wife about the change in scheduling. “Start copying the Aaka from my sheet of leather onto one of those blanks and afterward I will instruct you.”

  She was off teaching her students, five of whom, Osiris and Isis among them, were assigned a time to begin training on Roddy’s Aaka, about two hours hence.

  The acceptance of the gratuity sparked a thought, “If people expect her and I to spend most of our official time instructing, how are we to earn a living? Most of our income comes from me hunti
ng and her selling the meat. Maybe I should demand a gratuity for the services rendered.”

  Jubal decided to talk with his wife about the idea; then brought his mind back to the present.

  Tubal had short white hair, a neatly trimmed beard, violet eyes, and had experienced one hundred eight years of life and counting. Hopefully wielding potential would not result in bringing the busy life of the Weaposear to a tragic end.

  The craftsman had on a gray wool robe, black leather vest, and thick boots, with his bulging arms fully exposed. He stood a little less than six cubits tall, yet as wide as Ra, making him a fellow no one in his right mind wanted to irritate.

  After Vashti’s brother finished copying the Aaka onto a tanned-leather skin as instructed, he reached into his carry-all and pulled out a reed instrument identical to the one offered as a gratuity. “Will the Aaka work with this or must I borrow one of your flutes?”

  By way of answering, Jubal blew into the new and unusual instrument, playing the Melody, Elevation. Roddy finally decided on a name for the first of what would hopefully be many compositions. The title was far better than making everybody keep calling the tune, “Nimrod’s Aaka.”

  The sense of budding energy grew within Jubal and then bloomed in a burst of life-force power, filling the bed chamber with his indigo radiance. He ceased to play after the first repeat and then explained the importance of performing the Aaka exactly as written. “It must be the same notes, key, and tempo. Do not ever try to improvise so much as a single tone or beat. After the first repeat of the Melody, add the Da Capo, being sure to tie the end to your life-force and nowhere else.”

  “It will be as you say, O Instructor,” Tubal replied. He seemed to get some enjoyment adding, “O,” to the title, as if conferring more honor to the official designation. It was difficult to determine by his even tone if he was attempting to be respectful or being facetious.

  The crafter-of-metals began to play with each note sounding out exactly as written. After reaching the high C, orange, like the breast of an oriel, lit up the room. As instructed, he stopped playing, yet the energy continued to radiate from him, meaning he had successfully added the Da Capo.

  “Very good,” Jubal complimented the performance and then went on to teach the man how to use volume to control the flow of potential.

  The eager student began to rise above the floor, stopping about a hand-length from hitting the ceiling, and then lowered himself back to the wooden surface.

  It took a little less than one turn of the sandglass to teach him how to focus a beam, levitate an object, caution him about the dangers of dehydration, and get the man to agree not to try wielding the Aaka without the use of an instrument, not until he could hear and see the notes clearly in his mind. “If you make a single mistake, especially if you levitate high in the air, Thanatos will be coming for your remains.”

  “I can visualize the gravity of the situation in my mind and can assure you I’ll not make it necessary for my nephew to scrape me off the ground,” Tubal replied and then glanced at the door. “Thank you for the lesson. I must be getting back to my forge, but I hope you will consider charging for your services. It is a better way than accepting nothing but thanks and a pat on the back. You paid me in advance for the three instruments and every other craftsman expects the same. I do not feel guilty in the least about making people give something in exchange for my work and neither should you, O Instructor of Aakacarns.” His tone definitely held the ring of respect.

  Jubal nodded his head. “I will seriously consider doing so, although I had not thought about it until you brought up the notion.”

  The Weaposear gave a single nod of acknowledgement and then exited the room. His visit had been profitable for both of them.

  Being alone and with a little more than an hour before the students would show up for their lessons, Jubal decided to spend the time experimenting. The idea came to him while plucking, Elevation, on the lyre. Sound was produced by the vibrating strings. What would happen if he set the Melody in the string that was in the same key as the Aaka?

  He played the tune in his mind and when the familiar indigo radiance appeared, he focused it into the C string and then added a Da Capo to the casting. The Melody issued forth from the string, proving his notion. “I can do something with this,” he speculated.

  The instrument was actually playing the melody, the one string was; it glowed the way the wolves had done, but summoned no potential because the tune was not being performed by a living being. He touched the lyre, merely thought about summoning the potential, and instantly life-force energy radiated from him and into the string. He picked up the instrument and pointed it at the bed. A beam of light shot out from the tuning peg, enveloping the nocturnal couch, and with an upward tilt of the instrument, lifted the object into the air. Jubal had no control over the volume; it was fixed at the level he had been using at the moment of adding the Da Capo, and apparently so was the focus. He lowered the bed back to the floor, removed the Da Capo from the string on the lyre, and the glow vanished.

  The successful experiment meant he could create a device that would allow a Nephilim to use his or her life-force energy without having to perform the Aaka at all. Somehow the idea seemed like cheating, but he could see where such a device could come in handy. Roddy’s Aaka was not long musically speaking and therefore fairly quick to play through to the point of summoning potential, but it was not instantaneous. The memory of nearly slipping into the jaws of a giant crocodile came to mind. Only a slap with the oar made it possible to complete the Melody in time to keep from becoming a meal. A producer, the word seemed appropriate, would have worked to stop the croc instantly.

  Jubal made up his mind and opened the box containing his older Aakatools and removed one of the long flutes and a spare C string coiled in the corner of the container where such spares were kept. He fashioned two end pieces from a hunk of cork, poked one end of the string in the center and then slipped the gut through the middle of the flute. Satisfied with that, he took the other end piece and crammed it into the opposite end of the flute, being sure the string was dead center. With the string inside the hollow of the instrument and able to vibrate, he was ready for the next step.

  The tune, Elevation, played in his mind, summoning the energy, which he then focused into the string within the modified flute. Jubal added the Da Capo and ceased the melody in his head. He could hear the Aaka through the fingering holes and see the glow from them as well, so knew he had been successful. All that remained to be done was grab the device and see what would happen.

  He reached down and picked up the producer, blue light appeared around the entire instrument the moment he willed it to do so, and then he pointed at the bed. A single beam shot out, enveloping the object, allowing him to move it wherever he pointed the modified flute.

  After testing the new device a few more times, he laid it on the box, but kept the Da Copa permanently tied to his life force. The potential ceased the moment he let go, but he could hear the tune still vibrating softly in the string. “I will make a flute shaft without fingering holes for the next one,” he decided just as a continuous and rapid knocking on the door drew his attention.

  “Enter,” he called out.

  In walked a thin man who was slightly over six cubits tall, wearing a long black hooded robe, and holding a flute. His long and bony fingers possessed a deceivingly powerful grip. The blue of his eyes were so pale they almost seemed to be white at times, depending on the lighting, and his complexion, similar to that of Vashti, was not uncommon among the Nephilim descended from Lilith. The son of Javan was fifty years older than his aunt and Jubal, his uncle by marriage.

  “Uncle, going by the look in your eyes, you are surprised to see me,” Thanatos stated.

  Jubal could not help but to be a little apprehensive. “Did someone die?”

  Thanatos scratched his head. “I always get that question for some reason.”

  Going by the response, Jubal decide
d the man had not come to collect a body. “You are not exactly known for making social calls.”

  “True,” his nephew agreed. “Technically this is not a social call, so my reputation is still intact. Didn’t my aunt tell you I am one of the five scheduled for instruction on how to perform the Aaka?”

  She certainly had not. Jubal knew his wife would occasionally play a trick on him just to keep him on his toes, as it were, but felt her playfulness in that instance deserved a response in kind, later. He smiled. “I expected Isis and Osiris, along with Athena and two others.”

  “I am aware of them, but not who the remaining person might be,” the collector of the dead replied. “Whoever it is, like me, must have received private instruction on the rudiments,” he added and then his eyes fixed on the new device. “What kind of flute is that? There does not seem to be a way for breath to pass through.”

  “I call it a producer. I will demonstrate its use after the entire class is assembled and have been taught to play, Elevation, on their instruments,” Jubal replied and then performed the Melody on his newest Aakatool designed by the Weaposear.

  Thanatos listened to the Melody, no doubt hearing it for the first time. When Jubal began to glow the thin man nodded his appreciation of the demonstration. The door opened and in walked a Nephilim with skin the color of bronze, shiny and smooth, and her lips, just below a broad nose, curved up in a rare but pleasant smile. Pitch black hair framed a round face made even more compelling by her bright amber eyes. She had on a leopard-skin sarong that went all the way down to her knees. “I adore that color.”

  Jubal added the Da Capo and placed the Tubal-flute on the table beside the producer while continuing to glow with potential. “What can I do for you,” he inquired of the matriarch.