Noah Primeval (Chronicles of the Nephilim) Read online

  Methuselah sighed with disappointment. Another vision. He was approaching his eight hundred and fiftieth year of life and these visions wearied his old soul.. His father, Enoch, hounded him like a ghost in his dreams. Enoch was known for being a righteous man who walked with Elohim, and Elohim spoke with him in visions. When he was young, Methuselah would often complain about his father’s “head in the clouds,” until he learned the frightening truth that Elohim’s holiness was unbearable to sinful human nature. It made him more sympathetic to the effect it had on Enoch.

  Elohim had taken Enoch up to heaven alive before he could experience the dismal universal experience that is death. No aching joints, no wavering eye sight, no difficulty in peeing as the years would wind him down to the grave.

  From all this Enoch was spared.

  It’s not fair, thought Methuselah. But alas, Elohim is the creator of all things, and surely has the right to do as he pleases, no matter how strange or incomprehensible those actions may be to us mortals made of clay and nephesh, God’s own breath.. Methuselah took the lesson hard. One day soon, this heavenly temple will be his permanent home. But not today. He resigned himself and took in the fearful symmetry of a terrifying yet wondrous cosmos through which Enoch escorted him on the wings of the wind.

  Despite his sense of helplessness, Methuselah considered that maybe these visions were worth the irritation, after all. Who else is allowed to see such awesome marvels before their time? Maybe Elohim may yet take him, as he did Enoch.

  Out of a myriad of stars some fell from the sky and plunged into the waters below. Pulled beneath the waters, Methuselah watched their descent. The murky depths deadened their shining.

  A shiver went through Methuselah’s spine as he continued descending into the deep. Then he saw the reason for his chill. The spiny armored back of a long serpentine creature swerved just below him, and disappeared into the darkness. Gigantic, the creature measured maybe three hundred cubits long, a shadowy impression of its full fearful presence in the murky blackness. This was Leviathan, the seven-headed sea dragon of chaos, and the guardian of the deep. Few had ever seen it, fewer still had lived to tell about it. The only thing more terrifying than Leviathan was its mother, Rahab.

  Methuselah and Enoch landed on the bottom of the heavenly ocean and began to move through a solid crystalline floor, known to his people as raqia, the firmament of heaven. Below this raqia the heavens and the earth were enveloped by the firmament like a vaulted dome. Embedded in the vault of heaven glittered the stars, planets, and the greater and lesser lights that rose upon the ends of the earth in the east and set upon the gates of the west.

  As Methuselah and Enoch watched, the luminaries passed through the clouds and approached the earth, a flat disc surrounded by the waters, under which were the pillars of the earth, and below that, Sheol, the underworld. Two hundred of them landed in succession on Mount Hermon in Bashan in the northwest and he knew he was watching many years of the past moving before his eyes. The shining ones spread out across the earth from that cosmic mountain to reign as gods over mankind. These were the Bene ha Elohim, the Sons of God.

  “Weep for mankind, Methuselah,” said Enoch. “For every intent of the thought of his heart is only evil continually. And behold, the Lord will come with ten thousands of his holy ones to execute judgment on all, and to destroy the wicked. But I saw a vision of a Chosen Seed who will bring an end to the reign of the gods and bring rest from the curse of the land. Elohim promised in the Garden that the seed of the Woman, Havah, she who is also known as Eve, would be at war with the seed of the Serpent, Nachash. But through this chosen seedline will come an anointed King who will crush the head of the Nachash, the seed of the Serpent and their abominations in the land.”

  Hundreds of leagues southeast from Mount Hermon, directly below Methuselah’s feet, sat Mesopotamia, the center of the earth, the land between the rivers Tigris and Euphrates. The rivers produced a fertile crescent that rose from the Lower Sea in the south up to Ebla and Amurru in the north, bounded on the west by the vast Great Desert, and on the east by the Zagros Mountains.

  Methuselah descended to the southern part of Mesopotamia near the Lower Sea into the fertile land of Shinar, now called Sumer. He was being taken home to the great cedar forest, where his nomadic tribe’s camp was hidden from the city-states that bordered the rivers. He felt the vision fading to its end.

  “I am not the Chosen Seed,” complained Methuselah, “so why do you keep troubling me with these visions?”

  “Because,” replied Enoch, “the Chosen Seed is not listening. But you have his ear.”

  Methuselah knew who the Chosen Seed was. And he was going to tan his hide.

  Chapter 1

  Noah ben Lamech dashed through the sparse brush surrounding the mighty cedars, easily twisting his spear to avoid tangling low hanging branches. Five of his tribesmen trailed behind him, clad in animal skins, carrying spears, bows, and maces.

  Lemuel, Noah’s protégé, ran fast, nocking his arrow and aiming the flint tip at the prey. The target was a pazuzu, a black monster with a double set of bat-like wings, talons for feet, and a ghastly looking doggish face. The arrow, loosed too quickly, buried into the tree inches from the pazuzu’s head. The vile creature let loose a shriek that pierced the human’s ears, and fluttered with increased frenzy.

  A second pazuzu panicked and almost ran into the first one. They both flitted erratically around the thick trees, seeking shelter from their pursuers’ missiles. Unable to find an opening through the heavy canopy of foliage overhead to reach the sky and freedom, they split apart to escape their predators.

  Noah gestured to his men to split as well, three on one. Lemuel and Shafat veered into Noah’s footsteps after the first pazuzu. The other three turned after the second one.

  They are enemy spies, Noah thought, scouts for the city gods, gathering information on the last of the human tribes evading the conquering will of their Lords. We may have started the day hunting for food, but these things are no food for us. We must destroy them.

  Until now, Noah had managed to avoid detection by staying nomadic and hiding in the forest with his people. His family had originally settled the city of Shuruppak in the midst of the southern plain generations ago. His father Lamech was the priest-king of the city-state and Noah had inherited the position as a young man. But when the pantheon of gods extended their dominion throughout the land of Shinar, Noah’s clan left the city because of their dedication to Elohim. They became nomads and roamed the forests, deserts, and mountains.

  Noah’s tribe had traversed all these territories and had found the forests to be the most inhabitable. But as his people grew in number, presently a few hundred, with children and herd, it was becoming more difficult to pick up quickly and move. If one of these damnable creatures got away and reported to the gods, Noah’s community would be in jeopardy. They would run to the mountains where the city gods refused to follow. The desert was bone dry, scorching and brutal for child mortality, and mountain life was not much less miserable to raise a family like the ancient cave dwellers who died out long ago. There were not many of the human tribes left, and Noah was determined to remain one of them.

  His desperate need fueled him. Noah’s spirit surged. His team spread out and surrounded their pazuzu. Hindered by the closeness of the trees and underbrush, the creature’s wings slowed its progress, and the pursuit steadily gained ground. The pazuzu twisted and turned in confusion. With the desperation of a cornered animal, the quarry looked for an opening to strike back at the hunters.

  Lemuel glanced away to check his position. He nearly ran headlong into a cedar tree.

  The pazuzu pounced in that instant. It took its eyes off Noah for one moment to swoop down.

  That was all Noah needed. He drew back and released his spear with the power of an arm accustomed to strenuous labor. The wooden shaft flew straight into the breast of the creature with such force that it impaled the pazuzu’s body and pinned it i
nto a tree. It screeched its last shriek and died, black blood oozing down the rough bark of the cedar.

  Noah, Lemuel and young Shafat approached the beast. Their long hair, and beards flowed over their animal skins. Noah knew that it gave city dwellers the impression of uncivilized brutishness. But they would be wrong. His nomadic people were highly cultured, and their earthiness was a deliberate expression of their refusal to worship the city gods. His were the people of the Creator Elohim and they were proud to be separate from the rest of humanity who had rejected Elohim’s kingship and descended into the worship of the gods of the land. Noah felt that the nomadic tribes could rightly be called the last of humanity.

  Noah was over five hundred years old and in his prime as the leader of his people. This was middle age in a community where many lived as long as nine hundred years. As Lemuel was Noah’s apprentice, so young twenty-year old Shafat was Lemuel’s. They were as close as brothers in their community. They did everything together and protected one another.

  “Stand back!” Lemuel snapped to Shafat. “These things are treacherous. They will feign death just to bring one of us with them to the grave. If its talons get hold of you, we will have to cut your arm off to loose you.”

  Its death throes were genuine. The pazuzu’s legs twitched and the last of its air gurgled from its lungs.

  “It stinks like excrement,” blurted Shafat, with his hand over his nose in disgust.

  “It is an abomination,” said Lemuel. He reached up and jerked the spear out of the monster, letting it drop to the forest floor in a heap. He handed the spear to Noah.

  “It is getting worse, Noah. There will soon be nowhere to hide. We cannot run forever.”

  Noah ignored the point. He prodded the creature with the tip of his spear, exposing a brand of the god’s name in cuneiform on the twitching leg. “This is a scout of Anu.”

  “We killed a scout of the god Anu?” exclaimed Shafat.

  “Quiet your fear,” Noah said. “We bow to no god.”

  “No god but Elohim,” Lemuel amended.

  Noah shot an irritated glance at Lemuel, then caught himself and nodded reluctantly, “No god but Elohim.”

  This was a sensitive issue for Noah. He was not always on speaking terms with Elohim, who seemed to be quite distant, only conferring with crazy men like his grandfather Enoch and leaving so much to the mal’akim angels to do his bidding.

  Noah had served Elohim through the years. He remained pure in his generation. He walked upright and kept separate from the pollution of the city gods who came from heaven and sought to mix their blood with humanity. Noah’s tribe and the other human tribes of nomads refused to worship these pretenders to the throne of Elohim, and refused to participate in their corrupting sorceries.

  But this was not enough for Noah. Though he knew Elohim was Lord of creation, he sometimes felt that there was little difference between the servitude Elohim expected and the servitude that the city gods demanded of their subjects. A god was a god after all, and in either case man was a servant.

  Noah did not like being a servant. He yearned for freedom in his breast. Why can we not be left alone to live our lives? Why must we fight evil all the time? In a wicked generation, evil never sleeps. And Noah was growing weary from eternal vigilance. He preferred to hide away from it all and just enjoy his family, his beautiful wife, and his own concerns. He wanted to work the land and enjoy the fruit of his labors and be left alone. He had enough on his back to survive in this difficult world and to build his own community based on his own beliefs. If evil was left to run its course, it would destroy its own servants anyway, so why not let it? They deserved it. Why did Noah and his companions have to fight Elohim’s battles for him?

  The sound of breaking twigs interrupted his thoughts. The three turned toward the sound, tensed and ready.

  Tobias and the other two warriors came through the brush. Noah instinctively glanced at their spears, hoping for a sign of pazuzu blood. There was none.

  Tobias looked uncertain. “I think we got it. We reached the forest’s edge and it broke out to the clearing. But we struck it twice. It managed to stay in the air, but I do not believe it could make it back the distance to the city with two flints in its flesh.”

  Noah pondered a moment. “We had best have an elder’s meeting tonight and make a decision whether to move on.”

  Shafat let out a sigh of disappointment. Noah slapped him on the back of the head and gave him a warning glance. Without a word, Noah stomped off toward the camp.

  Lemuel wondered just how long they could keep going like this. He had followed Noah’s lead for many years and had always trusted him. Noah would do no wrong to any man. He was the patriarch of their tribe, a warrior who knew the land well and would not compromise with wickedness. But he could also be impatient and insensitive with those who lacked his resolve. Some men needed understanding and encouragement in the ways of the Lord. Zeal for righteousness did not mean one should give up compassion. Lemuel shook his head sadly as he walked.

  But then again, Noah did listen to Lemuel. His passion meant he might be quick to anger, but he was also quick to repent. Lemuel had never known a better man in all his days. He repressed another sigh and tramped after his leader.

  Chapter 2

  Far away in the skies over Mesopotamia, the wounded pazuzu flapped its double wings struggling to navigate the air streams that helped it remain aloft on its journey to the city. The two arrows burned its muscles with searing pain, one in its left thigh and the other in its right calf. It had lost much blood. Its wings felt heavy. It labored on, knowing if it landed to rest, it would never make it back into the air.

  The desert landscape gave way to the unmistakable marks of civilization as the pazuzu reached the outskirts of the city. Erech encompassed over one hundred hectares of land Below the pazuzu’s labored flight stretched the agricultural fields and farms watered by canals from the bordering Euphrates River. Since their very lives were interwoven with the river, the residents became expert canal builders. Levees and dikes brought water to their crops in the outlying areas within the city multiple man-made estuaries and aqueducts criss-crossed the various residential divisions, channeling lavish amounts of water for everything from cooking to cleaning to waste disposal. In between those channeled sections were the adobe and sun-dried brick homes. The Sumerian citizens went about their daily business, unaware of the flying presence high above.

  In the center of this metropolis that boasted a populace of close to ten thousand, a raised hillock overlooked the city and its outlying farming villages. On the elevation rose the temple called Eanu. It was dedicated to the patron deity of the city, Anu, the father god of heaven. It consisted of a huge platform mound seventy-five cubits high, built from mud brick and limestone at the bottom. At the top of the platform terrace, raised another twenty cubits high, sat the White Temple, the holy place of the gods. Its intense whiteness, the result of gypsum plaster, created a shining glow in the hot sun.

  Next to this temple complex stood a smaller temple district called Eanna for Inanna, the goddess of sex and war, and consort of Anu. Eanu dwarfed the Eanna temple. The compound of the goddess had a different design, reflecting the lesser divine status of the consort deity. The Eanna district harbored cult prostitution and other deviant whims of the goddess.

  Erech was one of the largest and most advanced cities of the alluvial plain. It was originally settled by Unuk ben Cain, son of Cain, who also built Eridu, the oldest city named after Unuk’s son, Irad. The original human inhabitants had arrived from the Zagros mountains to establish the first urban civilization on the plains. Those inhabitants formed a slave force that would help them achieve their urban paradise.

  Each city was independent, ruled over by a god. Every year at the New Year Festival the pantheon of city gods would meet in assembly in Erech and deliberate their divine decrees for the upcoming year. Anu arranged his pantheon after Elohim’s divine council of heavenly host. It pleased
Anu to mock the Most High with his own hierarchy of power.

  The gods had no desire to burden themselves with the petty worries of human administrations, so they each chose a priest-king to rule in his stead through a governorship. Scribes referred to the arrival of the gods and their rule as the time “when kingship descended from heaven.” But ever since then, the princes of the cities vied for prominence amongst themselves as the gods also sought distinction. The hierarchy was precarious. Bureaucracy always courted ambition and rivalry.

  The White Temple on the top of Eanu was the highest point in the city. The large platform structure imitated a holy mountain, a connection between heaven and earth. The people called the artificial mountain a ziggurat. Its four corners pointed to the four corners of the earth. The long straight limestone stairway that ascended from the base to the White Temple at top inspired the name Stairway to the Heavens by the people. The gods assembled in the White Temple for their deliberations and liturgy. Only the priest-king and his servants could enter it The priest-king of Erech, Lugalanu, stood in the temple performing sacred duties when the wounded pazuzu crashed onto the floor.

  Lugalanu hurried his pace through the long dark underground tunnel connecting the ziggurat and the palace in the Eanna district. With practiced effort he balanced his sacrificial bowl in the flickering torchlight without spilling the blood offering for Anu and his consort Inanna. They always wanted blood. It was the food of the gods and they were ravenous.