Free People of the Tower (Ark Chronicles 4) by Vaughn Heppner

countenance rather than a dour one.
    “ What troubles you, my husband?”
    He peered at the horizon, not bothering to glance at her.
    She hesitated, and then pressed against his side. “Is it Beor?”
    “ It isn’t the crops,” he said sarcastically.
    “ Yet the yearly flood couldn’t have come at a better time,” she said.
    He regarded her.
    “Rahab’s recovery—”
    “ Being raised from the dead isn’t a recovery , my pretty. It’s a miracle.”
    Resentment flashed across her features. She quickly smoothed that away. “You’re right. That was a poor choice of words. But consider this. The miracle awed our people, making fertile soil for Beor’s preaching. Naturally, they heeded him. How could they not? Now they work as of old, keeping the canals intact and saving their fields. When they’re done, the miracle won’t seem as miraculous. They will have become accustomed to it. And Beor’s words… They’re hard, like all of Jehovah’s sayings. Jehovah is so demanding, so strict and such a tyrant. Who can breathe under the dictates of Jehovah? Believe me. The people will soon grow weary of listening to this new preacher.”
    “ Perhaps,” Nimrod said, “and perhaps not. The people with their whims are like the wind, blowing first one way and then another.” He shook his head. “I can’t count on that. Beor’s influence and by him Jehovah’s must be broken. And yet…” A troubled look entered his eyes. He put his broad hand on Semiramis’ throat. “Do you know what I wonder?”
    “ No, my husband,” she said, her eyes bright.
    “ I wonder if Jehovah is right. I wonder if the angel tricked us.” He applied pressure, squeezing her throat. “I hate being a pawn, Semiramis. I loathe being at the disposal of another. I am Nimrod. I am the Mighty Hunter. I choose my own fate. I decide for myself. Yet this miracle…”
    He let go of her throat and studied the horizon. The miracle frightened him. How did one war against that kind of power? There had to be a way. Somehow, he must strike off the shackles that others tried to forge and put on him, even if the other was Jehovah. He must be free! Free to live and do as he desired, not to be a slave. He laughed. He put a collar and leash on Azel, his cheetah. What he wouldn’t allow was anyone to put a collar and leash on him.
    “ Now is the time when we must gather strength,” Semiramis said. “As the people toil at canal work, we must regroup.”
    “ Eh?” Nimrod asked.
    “ While the spring flood keeps the others busy, we must marshal all who are ours and find a way to stop Beor’s hideous influence.”
    “ What do you suggest?”
    “ We need our most cunning minds,” she said, “our deepest thinkers. Gilgamesh has always helped you in the past. Perhaps now is the time to bring him back. He has been gone long enough in the marsh. Why, even Ramses has finally returned, giving up on his sister. Only Gilgamesh remains there.”
    “ Forget about Gilgamesh.”
    “ Husband,” she said, clutching his arm. “I know you’re angry with him. And—”
    “ No. Gilgamesh has been driven insane. This girl… What’s her name?”
    “ Opis.”
    “ Yes, her,” Nimrod said. “She is surely dead. Gilgamesh knows that, yet he refuses to return. Like some living ghost, he haunts the great southern marsh.” Nimrod shook his head. “Let him rot.”
    “ Listen, my husband, please. You mustn’t let your anger color your judgment. We need Gilgamesh. He is your friend, your best friend.”
    “ No. Uruk is my best friend.”
    “ Yes,” she said. “Uruk is tireless in your service. He is a good man. But Gilgamesh has that rare gift of thinking. Now we need him more than ever.”
    Nimrod peered at her with suspicion.
    She bowed her head.
    “You seem very eager for Gilgamesh to return.”
    “ Don’t you think that now is our most dangerous moment?” she asked. “That as you attempt the great prize, the most devious and deadly peril has