The Days of Peleg (55 page)

“They will take you back to your room,” he said, pointing to the escorts who had somehow traveled to the front of the room during their visit. “I will talk with you again, soon, I promise.”

He rushed to meet the man behind the panel and disappeared into the opening.

Peleg rose, and noticed that his legs were unsteady. He wasn’t sure what he had just been through, but he knew it would take quite a while to make sense of it all. He would spend some time considering this
Creator
, but he had already dismissed all of the final talk about energy beings or anything that included the phrase ‘Great Serpent’. That reminded him too much of
Viracocha
.

He walked through the doorway where his guards, who did not acknowledge him at all, each grasped a shoulder and steered him into the pitch-black hallway.

There was a great rustle of urgency in the caverns, and Peleg could hear alarms and shouts echoing in the distance throughout the corridors, accompanied by the muffled sounds of running feet. On occasion, small groups of men pushed past them as they continued upward towards his chamber. Throughout all of this, not a hint of visible light could be seen; just thick darkness filled with fear and chaos.

Perhaps this was the sort of darkness the cast-out
Nephilim
now lived in?

Chapter 34

Causality

“To create information, one must deliberately replace the expected with the unexpected.”

P
eleg’s eyes snapped open violently—wrenched from a troubled sleep with a feeling of horror unlike anything he had ever known. Suspended panic pulsed through his system like lightning, and cold sweat began collecting under him on his bearskin blanket.

Something was in the room with him!

He lay immobile and tried to turn his head, but his neck muscles refused to obey. Only his eyes could move, and they twisted slowly in their sockets in an attempt to survey his cell.

The light from the panel seemed unable to fill the room, and only a pale luminescent dot (that seemed to emanate from hundreds of meters away) hung near the door, leaving the remainder of the room in thick darkness. A cold, vaporous breeze pushed past his face, and his eyes tried frantically to follow it. His skin tightened around his arms while the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Then he saw it.

A figure was standing beside him, seemingly comprised of fog. There was a faint green outline made evident by the distant light panel, with features that Peleg thought he could discern peripherally, but vanished into haze when his eyes focused directly on it.

He lay helpless, in abject terror in the presence of something he had never imagined. He could feel his bones begin to shudder as the room filled with palpable, thick fear—and then he heard a voice which poured painfully into his mind like acid.

“
You vile, pitiful, creature of mud!
”

Although there was no sound, the words slid painfully into his brain and resonated relentlessly within his skull.

“
How could you possibly be acceptable to the Creator? You live in ignorance and strife for a few brief moments in time, and then return to the dirt taking your ignorance with you.
”

Peleg’s mind twisted, imprisoned in a terror which suddenly escalated when dozens of new voices joined in tormenting laughter that echoed in his head. He twisted his eyes to try and see any additional apparitions, but there was nothing but blackness.

“
Your kind is so inferior, and continues to worsen
,” a new voice chimed it. “
We are superior to you in every way, yet when the Creator decided that we were guilty of one minor offence, we were stripped of everything and reduced to this form
.”

“
How much more will
you
suffer
,” the original voice returned, “
Disgusting species like yourself who live in bodies of clay, made from dust. There can be no mercy for you. Your faults abound in such numbers as to make
ours
insignificant
.”

“
Your turn will come
,” a third voice entered his head. “
If He found fault with
us
, imagine what horrible, unforgivable shortcomings he will find in
you
!
”

“
Unfair!”
screamed another. “
The Creator is unfair!
”

“
Unfair!”
echoed dozens of voices, repeating it until it became a cacophonous chant. “
Unfair! Unfair! Unfair!”

This continued for several minutes, reverberating in Peleg’s brain until their attention returned to attacking Peleg, spewing an endless barrage of hopelessness and disdain. A deafening avalanche of taunts flooded his mind. Accusations of worthlessness, inferiority, and mortality swam in torrents, saturating his thoughts from every side.

“
You will be crushed like a moth!
” The original voice rose above the others who quieted slightly as it spoke. “
You are destroyed in a day, yet once you perish, you never even know it. You die with the same wisdom you were born with—none!
”

“
With the smallest effort
,” the third voice again, “
your heart stops and you are no more—!
”

More laughter and jeers filled his head, increasing in strength until he felt he would lose consciousness. A sudden weight on his chest caused his heart to pound faster and louder than ever. Desperate, derisive attacks on his worth, a rabid hatred of his species, and gleeful pronouncements of the abolition and annihilation of all humanity coalesced into a large pressurized cauldron of molten hate which poured into his conscience, scorching his very essence.

The thick darkness in the room became a palpable, repugnant stench which trickled in through his nostrils, and, although he was still immobile, he began to choke and gag on the fumes which wafted down into his throat, blocking his breathing. He could sense his muscles straining to thrash in panic, but no movement was possible.

Suddenly an explosion far louder and more powerful than he had ever heard or even imagined compressed him from every side, pounding him in shock waves of pummeling force—which did not subside, but increased in intensity. His body vibrated from the concussion, and he closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to make everything go away.

A brilliant white light suddenly filled everything, pouring through his closed eyes, revealing the veins in his eyelids. He tried to cover them with his arms, but his limbs still refused to move. The volume of the explosion and the severe intensity of the light continued to grow and expand simultaneously. The stone slab upon which his sweat-drenched bearskin lay began to shake and Peleg waited for the inevitable end to come.

Suddenly, in an instant, the roar and brilliance stopped, as if they had simply winked out. Complete silence echoed in his room, and the radiant pressure upon his eyes was replaced by soothing darkness.

Peleg was too terrified to open his eyes, but he tried to force his remaining senses to determine his surroundings. The thickness and foulness in the air was completely gone, and he could feel nothing of the entities which had surrounded him.

Cautiously he opened his eyes. His room was exactly as it had always been throughout his stay these past months. The light panel glowed, mysteriously restored to its normal luminosity. The thin veil of water continued to trickle down the side of the wall. He decided that, earlier, he had only
dreamt
he had awakened. However, the word
Nephilim
began ringing, unbidden, in his mind.

He realized with relief that his neck and arms were now able to move, and he twisted and flexed his muscles, enjoying their return to usefulness.

He slowly rose from his bed and saw that the only indication that anything unusual had actually happened was his bearskin. It was so soaked with perspiration that he could actually ring out small amounts of liquid when he squeezed it.

He got to his feet, and immediately sagged towards the floor. His legs were like soggy reeds, and it took a great deal of concentration to get back up and make his first few steps.

Without any warning or announcement, the stone doorway slid upward and a man’s high-pitched voice called out.

“Come! Now!” he spoke as if unfamiliar with the language. “Me!”

The man motioned urgently with his hand, trying to pull Peleg towards himself.

Peleg had not heard any of the usual hasps being removed before the door opened, and he wondered if it had been unlocked. If so, how long had he been free to simply leave or wander this community?

Peleg moved unsteadily towards the young man, but as he neared the doorway, the man dashed past him into the room and grabbed his bearskin and brought it to Peleg.

“You need,” he said urgently, and then wrinkled his nose as he caught a whiff of the perspiration-laden blanket.

Peleg looked at the man and recognized the flute player from across the hallway. He grinned briefly, showing his unnaturally sharpened teeth.

“Bernifal,” he said, pointing to himself, giving his name. He grabbed Peleg’s arm and pulled him out into the black corridor.

Fortunately Peleg’s rubbery legs regained their stamina quickly, because Bernifal moved very rapidly, almost running, and Peleg was forced to completely trust his new guide as they turned corners and stooped under archways. Bernifal would stop short just before a staircase and apply pressure to Peleg’s arm to indicate whether they were going to step up or down. He would press down on Peleg’s head before entering an area with a low ceiling, or pull him sharply to the left or right when passing a narrow walkspace or navigating a tight corner.

At least this is what Peleg surmised as they moved through the pitch-black labyrinth at rates much faster than he would have liked. He wondered about Bernifal’s intent. Had Shem sent him, or was he acting on his own? Perhaps Bernifal had been moved by a touch of conscience and decided to actually help him escape!

On the average it seemed they were moving in an upward direction. He couldn’t tell whether Bernifal could actually see some of the surroundings, or if he simply had an extraordinary knowledge of the layout. Either way, Peleg hoped that Bernifal would not misjudge and drag him into a wall or over a precipice.

Suddenly Bernifal seemed concerned about noise. He pressed his finger against Peleg’s lip with a slight hissing sound, signifying a need for complete silence. They started walking slower and Peleg tried to mimic Bernifal who began to move without any sound. Bernifal
was
helping him escape!

They heard voices approaching, and Bernifal pulled Peleg into a small cleft, hiding until they passed. This happened several times and Peleg wondered who or what Bernifal was hiding from.

They turned to the right and Bernifal stopped suddenly. A voice in front of them spoke in a challenge, and Bernifal responded with a short string of syllables which included his name.

There was a harsh response accompanied by short comments from three other voices. Peleg sensed them approaching to attack, and Bernifal’s grip tightened on his arm as he prepared for a confrontation.

Suddenly Bernifal threw Peleg against the side of the corridor and let go of him. Peleg cringed against the wall, blind and abandoned, where he waited helplessly, unable to discern what was happening around him—or what his rescuer was doing.

After pushing Peleg out of the way, Bernifal returned to the center of the corridor where he struck the first charging assailant in the windpipe with the curved edge of his right hand while simultaneously stomping on the top rim of his kneecap using the outer edge of his right foot.

The attacker collapsed with a horrendous choke of pain, barely able to breathe. His kneecap, although not broken, had been forcibly shifted downward, scraping painfully against the bone and creating a hyperextension that ripped the tendons behind the knee.

Two of his three companions shouted, giving Bernifal
their
height and location. As they closed on him, Bernifal planted his left foot in the abdomen of the man on the left, and at the same time, broke the right collarbone of the right assailant with a downward swipe of his right elbow. The man on the left bent over, but continued to charge at Bernifal, only to receive a kick in his face from the same left foot that had not yet returned to the ground. With a broken nose and a throat filling with blood, he sank to the ground unconscious.

The broken collarbone still allowed the right assailant one good arm, which he used to try and strike Bernifal. It was blocked by Bernifal’s upraised arm, which he lowered until his fingers wrapped deftly around the assailant’s forearm. Bernifal slid his hand loosely along the arm until he reached the wrist, where he switched grips and took hold of the assailant’s thumb, placing his own thumb against the back of his hand. With a twist, he forced the wrist in one of the few directions it was not designed to go, and then aimed assailant number three’s thumb directly towards the wall.

The assailant yelped, jerking his face in the direction of his pained wrist—which was twisting, helplessly following the ensnared thumb. With a crunch, his temple struck the side of the tunnel, rendering him also unconscious.

Bernifal heard the fourth and final assailant rushing towards him. Unfortunately, assailant number four was too incensed to realize that Bernifal was now crouching, and he ran into Bernifal’s raised and outstretched palm.

Bernifal’s relaxed left hand was awaiting the rush of air that preceded the collision, and when they connected, his fingers were already wrapped around the edge of the fur tunic. Bernifal dropped the rest of the way to the ground, and the attacker suddenly found he had acquired an unexpected weight as Bernifal pulled him down.

As assailant number four tipped forward, Bernifal extended his right fist, placing it firmly into the groin of the falling victim. He was now completely supported by Bernifal’s two extended arms. Using the attacker’s momentum, Bernifal propelled him headfirst (arching above Bernifal’s now supine form) to land firmly on top of the first attacker—who was just starting to get back up.