Caleb Vigilant (Chronicles of the Nephilim) Page 19

  They stuck close to each other in order to avoid the dilemma they had in Mount Hermon when they were separated and hunted down by Ashtart. They were not going to let that happen again.

  Unfortunately, they were now lost in the labyrinth.

  Chapter 65

  His commanders on the wall called Sheshai from his war room to the gate of the city. He had his kidney wound wrapped and hidden, for fear of being discovered and considered weakened by his commanders. That would surely lead to a coup against him.

  Every step brought a stab of pain, but he made sure no one saw it in his face or his walk. He was not going to lose control again.

  When he arrived he saw the Israelite army ready and a small contingent of soldiers wheeling a vehicle toward the city gates. It was a battering ram. It was made of cedar, and it looked like a tower on wheels.

  Sheshai knew immediately from his experience that it was Hittite in construction. He figured that Israel must have Hittite advisors, probably taken from Gibeon, because these Habiru were largely ignorant of such practices having come from desert wandering for so many years.

  The Hittite ram had a swinging pole inside the enclosure that was operated by a battery of some twenty men. It contained a long cedar tree with a metal tip on the outside that hung from the pole inside like a pendulum. When placed against a wall, they would swing the ram back and forth, and it would pound the normal brickwork into rubble after a period of time. And the men inside were protected from arrows by the enclosure.

  Only the men wheeling it up to the walls were vulnerable.

  Sheshai cursed Yahweh and ordered his men to prepare for their Sodom defense.

  But then he saw that the ram was not being wheeled up to the wall but up to the front gate.

  The fools, thought Sheshai. I will have them for lunch.

  The reason for Sheshai’s confidence was the construction of the city gate. Rather than being a straight gate that opened out onto the field for easy access, instead, it was a casemate enclosure that jutted out from the wall and opened to the left side of the wall. The approach to the gate was up an incline, making it harder to wheel the ram, and making the attackers vulnerable to assault from the walls above to their right.

  Had the attackers approached the wall straight on, the defenders could only attack when the Israelites reached the wall. But by attacking the gate, the Israelites were subjected to abuse from above all along their approach to the gate along the wall.

  It would be devastating—had Caleb not simultaneously launched a scaling attack on the far side of the walls with a division of a thousand men with ladders.

  Sheshai was forced to split his army in half to address both issues at once, thus dividing his attention.

  The third prong of attack was the strike force, led by Othniel through the catacomb tunnels from the backside of the city cliffs. He led fifty of the mightiest gibborim warriors on their way up to the city. They were to find Joshua and extract him, while also seeking opportunity for assassination of the king if Joshua had failed.

  Projectiles of rocks and arrows assaulted the soldiers pushing the battering ram. They wore their shields strapped to their backs to protect them, but it was not enough. Too many were killed and had to be replaced.

  But then Israelite slingers and archers strafed the walls above the battering ram to force the Anakim back behind the parapet.

  The ram made it to the gate and began to swing and hit with powerful percussive force. It shook the walls with each hit.

  Flaming arrows launched at the vehicle were useless because it had been covered with a resin coating of deciduous tree sap that acted as a fire retardant.

  On the other side of the city, ladders were thrown up against the walls for Israelite and Gibeonite soldiers to scale.

  There was an art to using ladders in a siege. If they were placed too close to the wall, they could be easily pushed over by the defenders with poles. So they were laid out at a lower angle to make that impossible.

  But the problem with a low angle was that the ladders could not bear the weight of too many soldiers and would often break under the strain of the weight. So the Hittites supervised the proper angle and height that could achieve maximum offensive capability with minimum risk of collapse.

  The first wave of attackers was not immediately successful and suffered high losses trying to gain a foothold against the wall. But they kept coming with the faith and ferocity of Yahweh.

  Rahab was left in Caleb’s tent under protective custody of a platoon of gibborim. Caleb was not going to allow any other possible danger to assault her while he was still alive, especially since she was due to deliver any day now.

  But he also could not allow himself the luxury of being around her for it would distract him from the most serious battle of his life. This was more consequential than facing the mighty Ahiman in hand to hand combat, for now the sands of time were running out on Joshua’s life, and if they did not break through in time, all would be lost.

  Chapter 66

  Uriel left markings with one of his swords on the walls to mark their direction in the maze of palace rooms through which they traversed. Upon entry of each room, they prepared for surprise attack, but there was none. It was as if they were being drawn deeper and deeper into a spider’s web of peril.

  Raphael stopped with sudden awareness. The others gripped their swords.

  “What is it, Raphael?” asked Gabriel.

  And then they all felt it. But it was not what they had expected. It was not the preternatural tingle of danger, but of faith and hope.

  Raphael said, “I can feel the effect of Mikael’s prayer.”

  Gabriel said, “I also sense it.”

  Uriel said, “It is a good thing we finally listened to Yahweh, or we might be a trio of morons wandering aimlessly without supernatural guidance. Not that I feel entirely comfortable with our current situation.”

  It was at that moment that they entered the final room, a large wide-open area with a huge twenty-foot golden statue of Ba’al. He was posed in a naked walking stance, wearing a Canaanite conical horned hat of deity, and brandishing a war mace in one hand held high, and a lightning bolt in the other, ready to strike.

  They approached the statue and glared up at it with contempt.

  “Phew,” exclaimed Uriel. “These gods sure are a self-aggrandizing lot. Look at the size of his genitals.”

  “Obviously fictional,” quipped Gabriel.

  Uriel said, “At least we now know one of his weaknesses. He has an inflated view of himself.”

  Gabriel said, “And he is probably impotent.”

  Suddenly, the ground opened up below their feet.

  They fell through a trap door and slid countless yards down a shaft that was so smooth; they could not grip it to stop themselves. It was like glass. It must have been made through intense heat melting the rock surface.

  When they finally landed, it was into a cavern that reminded them of the seat of assembly inside Mount Hermon. But in this assembly hall, there were no stalactites or stalagmites, but glorious silver pillars that filled the room with regal splendor. And there was no throne of simple stone but an elevated throne of gold with a canopy and footstool.

  Uriel said, “Well, is he not just a pompous little divinity, trying to outdo both Yahweh and his own pantheon with vain gloriousness.”

  “Welcome to my throne room, archons,” said a booming voice. It came from nowhere but echoed throughout the cavern.

  They looked around, and then Ba’al appeared out of the shadows and sat down upon his throne.

  The angels saw that between them and the throne was a six-foot tall bronze barrier that blocked their immediate access to him. It looked like a huge round pillar lying horizontally. Uriel figured it was an occultic barricade since Ba’al seemed too at ease on his throne in the face of their impending attack.

  Ba’al was dressed as his statue was, up above in the palace: Bare-chested with conical horned hat and mace. But
he wore a battle kilt tied to his waist.

  Uriel retorted, “Thank you for sparing us the laughter by covering yourself up, King Kumquat.”

  Ba’al bellowed with fearsome volume, “SILENCE, GODLICKER!”

  And then as quickly as he exploded, he returned to calm—an ominous calm. “I am the Most High, king of the gods. Yet, you dare invade my palace with such audacity, and speak with such brazen incivility?”

  It was just a thought to Uriel to insult Ba’al by reducing the god’s realm of authority over vegetation and storm into sarcastic jabs. But he did not realize it would have such effect. What he did not know was that it reminded Ba’al of the insolent sarcasm of Ashtart when she would insult him in a similar way through the ages. He was a deity of calculated coolness, but for some reason, those verbal digs really got under his skin.

  Too bad for Ba’al, Uriel’s wit was sharper than Ashtart’s.

  Uriel muttered to the others, “Another weakness.”

  Raphael said, “Good for us it is your strength.”

  Gabriel added, “For once.”

  Uriel shot Gabriel an angry look.

  Ba’al stood from his throne and removed his horned hat and grabbed a chalice full of blood on a stand before him. He took a drink and then poured the rest over his head in a baptism of gore. The crimson red glistened over his shining body that now flashed like burning bronze. This Watcher god’s intensity was brimming over like a volcano ready to erupt.

  He said, “You think this is a replay of your battle with Ashtart? You have no idea. Ashtart was my slave.”

  Uriel muttered to Gabriel under his breath, “I have to hand it to you, Gabriel. He is impotent.”

  “You said it first, brother,” returned Gabriel.

  It was like their rivalry could turn on a shekel into loyalty—if either of them could just stop competing so much.

  Ba’al said, “Where is your lead archon? How dare he send his lackeys to do his work.”

  At that very moment, Mikael was outside where the others had left him, praying to Yahweh with all his might. His archangelic voice could not be heard above the whirlwind of fury that was above him tearing the heavens in half. Bright flashes of lightning struck the rocks near Mikael, thunder pounded his eardrums, and sheets of rain attacked his skin like pine needles.

  But Yahweh could hear him.

  The angels moved slowly but determinedly toward Ba’al. Uriel said, “Well, god of temper tantrums, we apologize for being so unimpressive to your royal windbag. But Yahweh has a way of using the weak things of this world to confound the muscle bound.”

  Ba’al was shaking with fury. He was shining with such brilliance from his anger that it would have blinded a human.

  But these were not humans. They were archangels.

  Ba’al gave a fangy grin and raised his hands in the air as if summoning his powers.

  He proclaimed, “NEHUSHTAN, ARISE!”

  Suddenly, the large, round, bronze barricade began to move.

  To slither.

  It was not a fallen column.

  It was alive.

  Chapter 67

  The fighting at the city walls of Kiriath-arba was intense. The battering ram was beginning to break down the iron-gilded gates with its pounding force. The Anakim were breaking down the besiegers’ ram engine below with large rocks. Israelite archers and slingers kept picking off Anakim defenders on the walls with their projectiles.

  On the far side of the city walls, units of climbing Israelite and Gibeonite warriors were barely kept at bay by Anakim using long poles to push back the increasing number of siege ladders.

  Sheshai had chosen to use the high roof of the tavern inn as his command tower from which he could see the field and forces for battle strategy.

  Several military captains accompanied him, his trumpeter for sounding orders, and messengers to carry more specific commands to the field.

  He felt the loss of his brothers weigh upon him. He had thrown Talmai in prison and would later prosecute him for treason and mutiny. Not to mention the torture he had in mind for Talmai’s adultery with his wife. But Talmai had been a mighty warlord. He had not only inspired his soldiers when he was their general, but he had engaged in death defying feats of valor. Ahiman had been the largest most fearsome Anakite in all the land and had garnered allegiance and devotion through his gibborim exploits of terror. But now he was dead by the hand of that Habiru grasshopper, Caleb of Israel.

  Together, the three of them had been an unstoppable united force that even garnered respect from the Most High Ba’al. But now Sheshai was on his own. He had always been the smarter of the brothers, and therefore the brains behind their strategic climb of power. And he had certainly achieved his ultimate plan of becoming king of Kiriath-arba. But he now understood how much he had relied upon his brothers’ support and unique talents to compliment his own.

  And his strength was ebbing away because of the wound in his back. If they discovered Sheshai’s vitality was fading, they would kill him and replace him. Weakness was not tolerated.

  He was light headed. He took a long drink of ale and pushed aside the past and all thoughts of weakness to set his mind like iron toward the task at hand: Repelling and exterminating the godforsaken Habiru termites at his door.

  The three generals stood nervously silent around Sheshai. They had counseled him to engage their stratagem without further delay. But he had shut them up and was waiting patiently for just the right moment to spring his trap.

  He wanted to lure the enemy in, give them the false hope of apparent victory, like flies drawn to poisoned honey. When he struck, it would be a hammering blow of such high losses and crushed morale; he would turn the tables and make the besiegers the besieged.

  One of the generals noticed Sheshai was pale and sweating. He asked him, “My commander, are you well?”

  Sheshai looked at him with offended eyes.

  Then he drew his sword and cut the general down.

  He summoned every ounce of strength within himself to do it. The thrill of the kill brought new energy to his weakened disposition. He turned to the others. “Are there any others who question my power?”

  The two surviving generals stepped back slightly and almost in unison said with frightful eyes, “No, my lord.”

  Sheshai looked out onto the field from his vantage point. His eyes focused like a falcon’s sighting on its prey. His mind observed every soldier’s movement with godlike calculation.

  A slight grin spread across his lips.

  Joshua had found his way to the back of the tavern when he realized that the security inside the headquarters was far too heavy for him to penetrate. Dozens of Anakim gibborim. He would not make it past the entrance to the bar. But he had seen that Sheshai was using the roof as an observation post.

  His first order of business was to dispatch a stray giant and grab his dagger after dragging him into the alleyway and hiding the body with garbage.

  In the hands of the human Joshua, an Anakim dagger was almost the size of a sword. But that was perfect for his purposes. He did not want a sword fight; he just wanted to slit the king’s throat.

  He slipped the dagger into the sash of his servant’s outfit and began his climb of the tavern wall.

  The building was built from a stone lower foundation with hardened mud bricks higher up. It made for relatively easy grip; at least until he got to the final wooden overhang eighty feet above. He had no idea how he was going to scale that perilous structure. But he did not have the luxury of an easy approach. He left that up to Yahweh when the time came.

  The climb had been harsh on his hands. The rocks were roughly hewn and the bricks were old and jagged through years of weathered abuse. It made for a good grip, but it was tearing up his hands. His fingertips were bloody and starting to quiver from the strain.

  He had to stop a moment to rest, shaking out the cramp in one of his hands while he held on with the other. But then the other one cramped up and he had to swit
ch holds to shake out that one.

  He was now about seventy feet up and nearing the impossible overhang. This would be the moment he needed his strength the most, but he had barely any left in him. And now he could see that the overhang was tightly constructed wood with no places to grip.

  He figured his only chance would be to use the dagger to dig out handholds.

  He took a moment to pray to Yahweh for help.

  When he started to move upward, he lost his grip momentarily and almost fell. His body scraped against the wall. His sash came undone.

  And then the one chance he had left slipped out of his sash and fell clanging to the ground below.

  It was his dagger.

  Now he did not know what to do. He had come so far and was now quite literally up against a wall, with no way out.

  But it was worse than he realized.

  For Joshua did not see that below him where his dagger had fallen, was the companion Anakite looking for his fellow missing guard. He had just noticed an awkward looking pile of garbage in the alleyway, when the sound of the dagger hitting the pavement had caused him to glance above where he had not thought to look.

  Just as Joshua prepared to start crossing the side of the building to find another way up, a large rock the size of a watermelon hit the wall near him, startling him, and making him freeze in confusion.

  It could not be rock loosening from the wall above. It had come from below. Rocks do not fall upward.

  As he realized what was happening, another rock the size of a human head hit him in the back and knocked the wind out of him. It was not big enough or hard enough to break any bones. It was just enough to jar him loose from the wall.

  And he plunged to his death seventy feet below.

  But today was not the day of Joshua’s death.

  The large ten foot Anakite was directly below him on the ground and caught his plummeting body like a pet in a master’s arms.

  The Anakite did not want to get in trouble for failing to secure this obvious assassin for questioning by the king. Death was too good for such seditious villainy.