Noah Primeval (Chronicles of the Nephilim) (16 page)

Jabal called
to Uriel as he pulled the sword out of the scorpion-man’s chest. It slumped to the ground. Jabal turned and tossed the weapon to the archangel, who caught it with a nod of appreciation. But Jabal did not see the reflexive spasm jolt through the body of the scorpion-man. His tail swept up and stung Jabal in the arm. Jabal screamed in pain. Tubal-cain cut off the creature’s head.

The poison
spread quickly.

Jubal caught Jabal before he could fall to the ground. “My brother!” Jubal shouted.

The men gathered quickly around him. Jubal pulled the stinger out of Jabal’s arm. The wound was already full of pus. They watched the black poison travelling up Jabal’s arm towards his heart.

“My brother,” whimpered Jabal.

Noah looked to Uriel. “What can be done?”

Uriel shook his head.
The Watchers with their occultic sorcery and poisons created these creatures.

Jabal looked up at Noah, fading fast. “Cousin,” he
gasped.

“Yes, cousin,” replied Noah.

“Take care of our motley gang, brothers all.” His soul had become knit as one with them, and now that thread was being unraveled.

His vision
blurred.

“I will,” said Noah.

“And
you
are in Elohim’s care,” said Jabal, between convulsions.

“Yes, cousin,
” said Noah reluctantly. Jabal breathed his last in his brothers’ arms.

In that
moment, Noah knew that he did not believe his own words. In Elohim’s care? How could he say or believe such a thing? He had led this young man out of the slave mines with the promise of glory and revenge. He had trained him and mentored him over hundreds of leagues of hostile environments, fought with monstrous enemies. He had even brought him into the very portico of hell, only to see him die at the random hit of the stinger of a dead scorpion. What kind of care is that? What kind of purpose or meaning could be behind that? He felt abandoned by Elohim. Could Elohim be any more distant? Could Noah’s alienation feel any more complete?

Methuselah led in a prayer over the body of Jabal. Men and angel
knelt and gave their comrade’s soul back to Elohim and his body back to the dust from which it came. The ritual made Noah feel worse. He held back tears of anger at his Maker’s unwillingness to make sense out of this senseless tragedy.

After a moment of silence, they gathered to eat some food. The battle had starved them
. They knew they were about to enter a sevenfold series of testing that would tax them to their limits and probably even lead to their deaths. They needed their full strength.

After their meal, Uriel took a firm grasp of the gargantuan door and heaved. The huge gate door creaked opened just enough for the men to get inside. Uriel led, followed by Noah, Tubal-cain, Methuselah and Jubal.

They
stood inside a huge wide cavern. Long stalagmites and stalactites filled the floor and ceiling. Glowing phosphorescent moss lit the space all around them, multicolored and quite glitteringly beautiful. Uriel had opened the gate by himself, but it took all the men to close it behind them. They did not want to be surprised by anyone sneaking up behind them.

Noah noticed that they appeared to already be at their destination.
He said, “Just one gate? Where are the others?”

“Just one,” said Uriel.

Noah said, “I thought there were seven gates of Ganzir that we would have to go through.”

“Are you complaining?” said Methuselah.

Uriel laughed ironically. “That is the problem with myth, it tends to exaggerate.”

“The bards call it poetic hyperbole,” added Methuselah. “It aids in emphasizing a point. If you prefer, we could re-enter this gate seven times to satisfy your penchant for the grandiose.”

Tubal-cain smiled, enjoying that he was not the target of Methuselah’s barbs this time.

“Why did you not tell us this earlier?” asked Noah.

Uriel shrugged. “There were more important things to deal with than the petty details of an exaggerated legend.”

Noah
shook his head and led them on.

They moved
cautiously to the center of the great cavern, past the jutting stalagmites, along a well-worn path, until they arrived at the shore of a small lake. The substance of the lake was black and viscous, like pitch, though not as thick. A perpetual flame flitted across the surface burning the top layer as fuel.

The sound of hands slowly clapping drew their attention across the black lake to two thrones of stone. Ereshkigal and Nergal sat upon the thrones. Ereshkigal stopped her mocking
applause.

“Well done, Chosen One, and your gangly squad of ‘mighty men,’” said Ereshkigal. “Welcome to the gates of Sheol. Few there
are who see it in life.”

Uriel
glanced at the black lake. “The Abyss. Doorway to Sheol.”

The men looked closer at the black fiery liquid. Tubal-cain stepped back.

“Sadly for you, Uriel, you will not have your chance to bind us,” declared Ereshkigal. “And for you, Chosen Seed, this is the end of your quest. You have failed.”

Uriel
looked up and around them with a sudden intuition of an attack.

The ceiling above them rumbled like an approaching stampede. Everyone drew weapons.

Nergal finally spoke with a calculated coolness, “And now you will all know the pain of dying at the hands of Nephilim, as you rightly should.”

Behind the men, the huge gates blew inward, kicked off their hinges by powerful feet. Two Gibborim assassins jumped inside the doorway, weapons drawn. Noah’s team stepped back, blocked by the Abyss behind them.

The ceiling above them continued to shake with the force of a quake. The men looked up to see three holes burst open in the ceiling thirty cubits above them, one at a time. Rocks came crashing down from the holes, carrying with them the three forms of Nephilim landing in a cloud of rubble and dust. Like birds of prey, they rose from their crouched landing and drew their weapons. These were the same savage creatures that had stalked Noah and Uriel in the desert. Salah had told Noah about rigging the cave to collapse. If Salah was not able to carry out that plan, Noah knew his friend would have fought to the death. If he had been successful, then these monsters probably dug their way out of their own graves. Either way, Noah knew that Salah and his Thamudi tribe were all dead, wiped out by these creatures of hell.

The lead Naphil growled and the five of them advanced slowly, ready to pounce.

Tubal-cain blurted out what everyone was thinking, “Noah, what shall we do?”

Noah knew it was hopeless. These five Gibborim had decimated an entire city of warriors in their pursuit of Noah and Uriel.
Two Watcher gods were at their backs. They did not stand a slash of a chance.

“We have no choice. We fight to the death,” said Noah.

The Nephilim drew closer. The men gripped their swords and prepared to die.

“There is a choice,” said Uriel. “We enter Sheol.”

This did not go over well with a single one of them.

“And double our jeopardy?” said Noah.

“Only double?” Methuselah mocked.

“Nephilim will not follow us into Sheol,” said Uriel.

“Why not?” asked Noah.

“Because they are too afraid of it,” answered Uriel.

This was not lost on Methuselah who had to spit it out, “You would take us where Nephilim fear to tread?”

“You will have to trust me on this one,” said Uriel. “Believe it or not, I am more able to help you down there than in here.”

It was too late for debate. The Nephilim charged. In seconds they would all be dead.

Noah yelled, “Follow me!” and ran to the edge of the lake, making a flying leap into the black Abyss.

“Not another leap of faith,” complained Methuselah. But he said it as he followed the others into the thick black liquid—Uriel, then Tubal-cain, and Jubal.

The Gibborim reached their spot just as Methuselah made his splash. The giants stopped in fear, looking into the blackness.
Two of them backed up, not wanting to get close.

Ereshkigal damned Elohim and yelled at the Gibborim, “You are done here! Return to your masters.” By this
she meant Anu and Inanna, or Semjaza and Azazel. The squad of Nephilim backed away, gathering together for their return. But one of them stood staring into the black liquid. Just as his comrades noticed this, he sheathed his sword, glanced at them, and dove into the Abyss. The leader screeched as if he had lost a son. But the others did not move an inch. They knew their comrade was leaping to his sure death. They turned and left the cavern for their return trip to Erech.

Noah, Uriel, Methuselah, Tubal-cain and Jubal sank into the depths of the inky black fluid of the Abyss. It terrified them. They could not open their eyes. They did not know how long they could hold their breaths before their lungs would fill with thick black death.

They broke through the oily liquid into a new layer of water.
Now they sank swiftly. Noah opened his eyes to see Uriel next to him like a loyal dog. The others were near. Tubal-cain passed him up with his heavier weight. Noah slowed himself to make sure they all passed him up so he could keep them in his sight. They continued to sink.

H
e did not see the Naphil who had broken through the oily layer into the water above them. The pursuer was not just sinking, but swimming to catch up with Noah.

Unseen by all of them,
the shadowy form of a sea monster approached them in the distance: Rahab.

Uriel
’s sixth sense caused him to look up.

The Naphil was almost upon Noah
. His hand stretched to grab Noah’s head. His was blade ready to plunge into Noah’s body.

Uriel
shouted, bubbles trailing upward.

Noah
could not hear through the water, but the bubbles made him look at Uriel, wondering what he was trying to say.

The Naphil grabbed for Noah’s head.

Rahab came out of the darkness. The huge dragon body swept through the water. Its jaws gaped open, with large razor teeth the size of swords. Rahab clamped down on the Naphil with a hundred tons of pressure, snapping the Naphil’s spine, and carrying it away. The torrent in the water almost drew Noah up into its undertow. Uriel grabbed his ankle and pulled him back down.

The great dragon turned and circled back around. It was not finished. There were five pieces of sinking bait ready for snacks.
It was too late for the men. They were out of breath. They could last no longer in this watery world. Their lungs had used up all the oxygen they could store. It was time to inhale water, drown and be eaten.

Suddenly
, one by one, they broke through into Sheol and fell almost fourteen cubits down onto the ground, sputtering and coughing out water from their lungs.

It was as if the Abyss was a ceiling or firmament of Sheol, an upside down underworld, where they fell down out of the water onto dry land below.

They gasped for breath. Jubal spit it out first, “What was that
thing
?”

“Rahab,” said Uriel, “sea dragon of the Abyss.”

“
One
of the dragons,” Methuselah corrected him. “The other one has seven heads.”

“Thank you for the consolation,”
derided Jubal. “I feel much better.”

“Thank Elohim for the Nephilim after all,”
muttered Tubal-cain. “One moment more, and we would be a meal.”

Noah wondered, “But the size of its mouth. Why did it not grab me with the Naphil?”

Uriel shook his head and boiled with sarcasm, “Hmmm. You do not think that has
anything
to do with Elohim protecting you for his purpose of building the box, do you?”

The rest of them could see Uriel
’s anger. They all remained uncomfortably silent while getting up to look around.

Sheol: Land of the dead, the underworld. Visibility was very poor and breathing was even harder. They would have to conserve their energy.

Noah remembered the black pitch Salah had given them and the words he had spoken, “Some day to find your way in a dark place.” He and Uriel pulled out their pouches filled with the thick tar. They made torches, covered them in pitch and lit them with a flint stone carried by Tubal-cain.

The light let them
see more of the dreary, lifeless world they were in. It was an inversion of the upper world: inside-out rocks, upside-down trees, their tangled gnarly roots coming out of the ground.

A howling inhuman screech made them stand up and draw their we
apons. They listened for more.

Suddenly, a creature jumped out of the rocks and ran straight at Noah. It looked humanoid in shape, but had lost its distinctive identity as human. It was androgynous, without genitals, eyes or hair. It only had a large mouth on its head, a large, raving mouth full of outsized ugly
pointy teeth, gnashing and gnawing, ready to eat its target.

Noah
swept out his sword and cut off its head. It fell to the ground, but continued to grope around for its prey.

Tubal-cain kicked the thing onto its back and stomped down on one arm
. Jubal stomped down on the other arm. “What is it?” asked Tubal-cain.

“A shade,” said Uriel.

“It does not die?” asked Tubal-cain.

“It is already dead,”
Uriel answered.

“Call it ‘the living dead,’” said Methuselah.

“Come to eat us alive forever?” asked Jubal.

“Yes,” said Uriel. “Which is why your best defense is decapitation.”

Methuselah leaned in to take a closer look at the thing squirming under their feet. “Disgusting,” he said. The body was made of rotting flesh that was falling from its skeleton. He could see that it was animated by maggots and worms that filled the cavities and muscles. An old saying came to his mind and he repeated it aloud, “Where the worm dies not.”

Suddenly, two more shades jumped out from behind the rocks. Jubal and Uriel immediately cut off their heads. “How many are there?” asked Tubal-cain.

Before Uriel could answer, eight more shades came at them. The living men hacked and slashed, taking the shades down.

Uriel stood up on a rock looking at a valley below them
. It teemed with an endless mass of shades coming in their direction.

“Lots,” said Uriel. “Run.”

They raced into the wasteland of twisted rocks and gnarled tree roots. But every turn they made, they were blocked by gangs of shades chomping after them. They changed course, only to be blocked by more marauding shades. At last, they broke through the maze of rocks and out onto a vast flat land of dried cracked mud.

Uriel led them out onto the flats.
As they ran, the men saw shades bursting out of the ground. Their hands grabbed for the men, their mouths hungrily gnashing and grinding their teeth. Very quickly, the number of shades bursting from the ground overwhelmed them on all sides. There was nowhere to go. They were surrounded. They circled in defense one last time. The massive hive of hungry screeching shades pushed in on them.

“Prepare to be an eternal meal!” yelled Tubal-cain.

Uriel was not about to let that happen. He sheathed his sword, reached in his cloak and pulled out a ram’s horn he had secreted from them until now. He put it to his mouth and blew for all his life. The deafening sound rolled out in shockwaves, blowing down shades with concussive force. It spread out in a ring around them.

“You are full of surprises,” said Noah.

“I take back my criticisms of you,” said Methuselah.

“It
will not last,” said Uriel.

Methuselah wondered
briefly if Uriel was talking of his effect on Methuselah or on the shades.

The effect
did not last. The downed shades were soon over-run by a new wave of shades, climbing over the others, mouths munching, tightening their circle once more. Uriel gave another hearty blow. The sound waves pushed the swarms back again. But this time, not as far. It had decreasing effect.

Uriel put the trumpet to his lips
a third time. But before he could blow, they were all thrown off their feet by a massive earthquake. The ground exploded upward all around them. Seven giant ten-cubit tall warriors burst out of the ground. They rose from the earth like rulers standing to make judgment. They looked like Nephilim, but were taller and more regal. The shades laid down in submission before them.

“What are they?” asked Noah.

“Rephaim,” replied Uriel. “Souls of the giant warrior kings. Demigods like the Nephilim, only more powerful. These were imprisoned here at the Titanomachy.”

Memories flooded into Methuselah’s mind. One of those Rephaim had killed his wife’s family and he had given it a permanent limp with his blade.

“Is that who you were calling on your trumpet?” said Noah.

“No,” said Uriel.

Methuselah put in his two shekels, “I have a feeling we would prefer to be eaten by the shades.”

Uriel made one last blow on his ram’s horn.

It was
a quiet evening in the city of Kur on Mount Hermon. The new moon sacrifice was still weeks away. The villagers were in their homes asleep past the midnight hour. Hardly anyone noticed the faint echo of Uriel’s trumpet resounding from the depths of Sheol.

H
igher up the mountain on the north slope, just below the tree line, the nightlife fell silent. The crickets stopped. Wild rodents froze in their tracks, their eyes darting around in fear.

A blindingly brilliant light abruptly burst from the heavens above to the forest floor
. It cut through the night like a dagger, and just as suddenly, it was gone. Darkness filled in the breach.

In a matter of seconds, three dark riders on horseback burst out of the brush from where the light had burned its path to the earth
. The savage looking warriors, with armor that looked similar to that of the Nephilim, urged their fierce stallions onward. They rode with deliberation down the mountain toward the ziggurat on the south side
.