Free Noah Primeval (Chronicles of the Nephilim) by Brian Godawa Page B

bolted off into the night.
    Uriel looked up wards to heaven with frustration. “Lord, why me?” After a moment of thought, he added, “Why him ?”
     
    Noah rode his camel hard to the cedar forest. Though the attack had happened only days before, he could see smoke still lazily drifting up into the sky from the desolation. He did not want to see the ruin of the encampment, but he knew he had to. He had to face his past head on and let it fuel his thirst for revenge in the future.
    As he approached the edge of the camp, the destruction engulfed his senses. His eyes clouded and his throat choked up. Why? Why would Elohim allow this to happen? If there was any thought of him being this Chosen Seed, it was thoroughly put to rest, vanished into the underworld with his family.
    E verything had been razed to the ground. The animals all lay slaughtered, or they had escaped. The destruction scattered debris everywhere. The only movement came from surviving children, still picking through the wreckage to find anything to eat or to use. Rather than mercifully killing the children, Lugalanu let them survive to be starved or ravaged by wolves and other predators.
    But Noah’s mind did not stay on the waifs now gathering around him. He barely saw them. He came to the origin of the rising smoke .
    He fell off his camel . His hold on reality began to slide away.
    The dark vapors rose from the smoldering aftermath of a great bonfire—of the bodies of his kinsmen. Massacre.
    Noah stumbled closer to the burning pile. At the edge of the smoldering ruins he saw a burnt linen cloth. A red linen cloth. The dress Emzara had worn before they last made love. He pulled it out of the flames. One of Emzara’s copper bracelets, blackened by the fire, rolled out. He picked it up with the cloth and wept bitter tears. He murmured to himself the name of his beloved, trying to resurrect her, demanding that Sheol would not allow her to be forgotten.
    He looked to heaven and raised his fist in anger. “And you expect me to obey you?”
    A child cried out in hunger.
    T hen it hit Noah. His sons. His sons! He jumped up and ran full tilt for his tents. He arrived at a jumble of goatskin canvas and piles of rubble. He saw a bulge in the tent and ran over, ripping it apart, digging for the truth.
    I t was the pet lamb, lifeless and spattered with blood.
    “Father!”
    He thought it was a dream-voice. He looked up.
    It was no dream. Shem and Japheth stood a short distance away, shadowed by a bandaged Methuselah watching over them.
    Noah cried out for his sons and ran to them. They crashed into each other and fell to the ground in weeping happiness. He kissed them. They held onto him for dear life, a pair of cubs reunited with their parent.
    “I thought you were dead! ” Noah cried. “I thought you were dead! ”
    Shem stopped him . The boy pulled away and stood upright. “No, father. We did as you taught us. We distracted the bad men.”
    “With a sacrifice,” added Japheth. They proceeded to tell him the story of their strategy. They opened the back flap to make it appear they had left, and then burrowed into their hiding place. The soldier had followed them into the tent. They had left Lemuel out to distract him, just in case. When the soldier could not find the boys, he killed the lamb. It satisfied his frustration, and he left.
    “They were abonimations ,” yelled Japheth, hopelessly mangling the pronunciation.
    Shem scolded his little brother, “Japh eth, you are not allowed to say...”
    Noah interrupted them both. They looked into their father’s eyes, expecting a chastisement. But he calmly said to Japheth, “The correct word, my son, is abominations .”
    “Abominations!” Japheth yelled.
    Noah gave a sad smile of approval, because it was time for his sons to shed their innocence. They were too young. But he had no choice. It was forced upon them.
    The boys noticed the red linen and copper bracelet in Noah’s hand. Too late, Noah tried