“Patience, Naamah,” the raven squawked. “Restoration is at hand.”
Morgan spread her wings and wrapped them around Naamah. As they perched together, black smoke arose on all sides, penetrating Naamah’s nostrils and bringing the foul stench of decaying carrion. As she closed her eyes to ward off the stinging fumes, her body stretched, her head expanded, her wings tapered, and her claws thickened into fingers. When she reopened her eyes, Morgan stood before her.
Naamah patted her side with her free hand. Something was different. Her fingers seemed to pass through her waist, but not as through smoke. Her body felt more like thick gravy. She raised her hand and stared at her palm, flexing her fingers as they melded into each other. A feeling of horror erupted and spilled out in a loud wail. “What happened to me?”
Morgan stroked Naamah’s hair. “What matters is that we’re alive.”
“So I’m a wraith now?” She closed her hand into a fist, and it congealed into a fingerless club.
“You are more spirit than substance, but you’ll learn to mold yourself into a variety of shapes. Still, neither of us can last long in this world without a regular visit to our lord’s domain. He must infuse us with power if the light of this world wears our bodies down.”
“So I can’t go back to the ark?”
“Once I explain my plan and teach you how to solidify yourself, you may return. Noah’s family cannot be allowed to know you’re missing.”
Naamah breathed a long sigh. “That’s good.”
Morgan crossed her arms and squinted at Naamah. “You’re not seriously worried about that baby are you?”
“No . . . it’s just that . . .” Naamah’s voice trailed off.
“Don’t worry. If my plan works, Canaan will be yours forever.” She nodded at Naamah’s hand. “Were you able to bring the grapes?”
“Oh . . .” Naamah opened her fist, revealing five wrinkled grapes. “I forgot about them.”
Morgan surveyed the mountaintop, a dome that flattened out into about five acres of rocky soil. The floodwaters lapped against the shoreline about two hundred paces upwind, and, beyond that, across a mile or two of arching whitecaps, the ark listed against the pounding waves. She pointed toward a flat area midway between the shore and where they stood. “We’ll plant our vineyard there.”
“How long will it take to turn five grapes into a vineyard?”
“Let’s just say that they will grow at a wickedly fast rate, and when Noah plants his own vineyard, the same power will cause his to thrive in stunning fashion. Then, we will graft our vines onto his. The grapes from our grafted vines will be better than the rest, so he’ll be sure to make wine from them.”
Naamah twirled her ghostly dress. “And that’s when the fun begins?”
“Yes. The wine will put him into enough of a stupor for you and Ham to get something I want.”
“That’s it? Get Noah drunk and steal something from him? Sounds too easy.”
“Not as easy as you might think. For us to use the child, Noah must curse him and make him leave his family. I’ll tell you how to do it, but it will require perfect timing and your best acting performance.”
“Beguiling men is my specialty,” Naamah said, grinning.
“Patience, Sister. Bide your time as a loving mother and doting wife. First, the grapes must grow, then we will speed the fermentation process. When the harvest celebration begins, wait for Noah to drink, and then . . .” Morgan smiled and raised an imaginary cup into the air as if proposing a toast.
Naamah joined her with a cup of her own. “The wine will do the rest!”
A dark mist filtered between the two uplifted arms. Naamah lowered her imaginary cup and searched for the source. A blanket of black fog hovered close to the shore just above the water. A stream of darkness extended from it, reaching out and trying to loop around their bodies.
Morgan closed her eyes. “Do you hear that?”
Naamah kept her head still, concentrating on the surrounding noise. “Just the waves. What do you hear?”
Following the mist’s beckoning arm, Morgan padded her bare feet silently along the virgin grass. “Not waves. Voices. Pleading voices.”
Naamah followed Morgan to the shoreline. As they stepped into the water, the black fog swirled around them, congealing into dozens of dark phantoms that pawed at their bodies like anxious dogs. Naamah couldn’t feel their swiping paws, but a sense of heaviness filled her mind. “Who are they?” she asked.
Morgan smiled and cradled one of the ghostly shapes in her arms. “The spirits of the Nephilim.” She closed her eyes for several seconds as the ghost caressed her ear. When she opened her eyes again, she sighed. “This one tells me that the flood killed their bodies, but their spirits had no place to rest. The human dead went to the circles of seven, and the Watchers were banished to Tartarus, but these hybrid children were prevented from entering either domain. They searched for suitable bodies in the ark, but a strange spiritual force banned their entry into the humans, and the animals in the hold were stupid beasts, unable to open their minds to allow them in. So they wander here as sea fog, unable to walk or breathe, like lost souls in an eternal nightmare.”
“Isn’t there some way we can restore them?” Naamah asked. “Maybe by using Samyaza’s seeds of power?”
“I don’t know. Our little gardening plan is designed to grow new Nephilim, not restore their wandering spirits. Still, there might be a way to find bodies for them. If not from Canaan’s line, then perhaps from another source.”
“Another source?” Naamah tilted her head. “The only animals left in the world were on the ark.”
“Very true, yet there is one animal our lost children have not yet explored, a beast with brainpower rivaling that of many humans, perhaps even surpassing them.”
Naamah tapped her chin. “They weren’t in the animal hold for these spirits to find.”
“And they will be at their weakest when they finally exit the ark.” Morgan laid the phantom in Naamah’s arms. “It will be up to you to teach them a siren’s song.”
“A song to tempt the heart, arrest the guardians of the mind, and open the gates of the soul.” Naamah smiled. “I can do that.”
“I thought so. Who has ever been able to resist your charms?”
A flutter of wings drew Naamah’s gaze skyward. She pointed at a white bird flying overhead. “Look! A dove!”
Morgan followed its flight as it circled their island. “It seems that a certain raven never returned, so Noah has been sending doves out to search for land.” In a puff of smoke, she transformed back into a raven and took to the air. Seconds later, she returned with her claws embedded in the dove, blood dripping from its broken neck. As she fluttered to a landing, dropping the dead bird on the ground, she cackled, “I’ll let the next one live, Noah, after I plant my vineyard. Then it will be time for you to come out. And bring those lovely dragons with you.”
Chapter 5
Makaidos stretched out his body on the carpet of fledgling grass. The sun’s warm rays felt like the massage of strong, healing hands as each scale soaked up the delicious radiance, recharging every aspect of his dragon nature. Thigocia slept next to him, her long neck curled around the base of his. The scales on his other side begged for sunlight, but he didn’t want to turn over and awaken his mate. As close to death as she had come during the months of darkness, she needed sleep as much as she needed the sun’s precious energy.
A loud trumpet blast sounded from the water’s edge. Makaidos lifted his head toward the ark. Japheth and Shem were leading the elephants through Eve’s door, the new calf following close behind. The male trumpeted a second time, as if saluting the bright rainbow that painted the misty clouds to the west.
Makaidos sighed. The rainbow promised a spectrum of joy, each color representing a different bliss in the new paradise. The sun poured down warmth from a clean, clear sky, baking virgin earth that yearned to sprout new offspring from her cleansed womb. The rich soil carried no trace of footprints from either man or demon. Every Watcher and Naphil had perished, and the world now held no memory of their corruption. The weary souls on the ark seemed refined by fire, rejoicing in each moment, bouncing with every step on the newly purged earth.
Resting his head on Thigocia’s abdomen, Makaidos listened for signs of life within a gurgle, a click, a soft hum that played in Makaidos’s mind like a glorious hymn. He closed his eyes and smiled. Maybe this world would be a safe place for dragon younglings after all.
As he tried to sleep, dozens of noises disturbed the quiet parrots squawking, cattle mooing, even the buzzing of a bee in his ear. Still, one odd sound rose above the others. He perked up his ears. A haunting voice blew by, like a ghost whispering a song in the breeze.
The chill of danger swept across his scales. He raised his head again. A stream of dark mist flowed across both dragons. Curling around his snout like a translucent python, the mist wrapped his face and shrouded his eyes. Makaidos leaped to his feet and thumped his tail. “Thigocia!” he shouted. “Awake!”
The ground vibrated, and Thigocia’s voice rumbled. “What is this darkness?”
“A mist. Something wicked.”
“I thought I felt a presence, but I could not be sure.”
“Listen,” Makaidos said. “It sings.”
“Shall I call for help?”
“Shh!”
Both dragons fell silent. Makaidos concentrated on the whispered aria, a lilting melody that played like a fresh breeze on tender grass.
Your heart of gold should never fear
Arrival of the dawn,
For each new day shall bring new hope
As moon begets the sun.
Erase your mind, O dragon wise,
And let your gates be breached.
The time has come to greet new thoughts
Your maker failed to teach.
For wisdom comes when laws of old
Are swept like spiders’ webs,
And minds like yours discover truth
In life’s new flows and ebbs.
For how can wisdom’s laws be true
When taught from books to squires?
Experience stands as wisdom’s tool
To guide you through the mire.
O let me in to teach you songs
That come from heaven’s lights.
You’ll never fail to conquer foes
And rule o’er kings and knights.
For man corrupts and soils his own;
The world will die again.
His lust for blood and gold and flesh
Destroys what dragons mend.
Makaidos clenched his eyes shut and pawed at the streaming mist. “Do not listen! It sings foul words!”
“Too late. I heard every syllable.”
“Then do not heed them!”
“I knew that much! But how do we get rid of the mist? It is blinding me!”
“Close your eyes!” Makaidos shot a blast of hot gasses in the direction of Thigocia’s voice. “Can you see now?”
“Yes! Your turn!”
Makaidos kept his eyes closed while hot air, smelling of burning sulfur, bathed his face. His vision cleared, and a wisp of black fog brushed by his ear, singing one last phrase before streaming toward the sea. “I will be back for your son.”
Makaidos blasted a flood of fire at the retreating blackness, but it was too late. The fog danced over the water and disappeared like evaporating mist. “If you dare come back,” the dragon bellowed, “I will melt your songs into screams of agony!” He turned to Thigocia. “Any harm done?”
“No. No song could ever turn my heart from the Maker.”
“Did you hear anything else, I mean, after the song?”
“No. Only the song.” Thigocia nudged Makaidos’s wing and snuggled under it. “What did you hear?”
Makaidos glared at the island’s shore. “Just a bully’s taunt. Malicious words are just noises in the wind.” He extended his wing over Thigocia’s body and stroked her flank. “With our danger sense getting strong again, we will be alerted if the mist tries to return.”
Thigocia rubbed her cheek against Makaidos’s neck. “You need not tell me about the taunt, if that is your wish, but I am curious.”
“I wish not to tell. Too much information can be dangerous.”
“Is the truth ever dangerous?” Thigocia asked, stretching to look into her mate’s eyes. “Even too much of it?”
Makaidos avoided eye contact. “If it is more than our hearts and minds can manage, yes.”
“I will remember that. Too much information can be too taxing on our brains.” Thigocia turned her ears outward. “The mist sounded like many voices. Do you have any idea who they were?”
“Yes. Although they drowned in the flood, their evil spirits must have somehow survived.”
“The Nephilim?”
Makaidos shifted his body toward the ark. “I have to warn Noah.” He stretched out his wings and tried to lift off the ground, but they faltered and fell limply to his flanks. He sighed and raised his brow. “It seems that my strength won’t fully return until we build our regeneracy domes. Will you walk with me?”
She shuffled to his side and nudged his ribs with her snout. “As if you could stop me.”
Ham pushed the tent flap open and ducked inside. A single candle burned near his father’s mat, barely enough light to see two elongated lumps on the opposite side of the tent. “I think I know where it might be,” he whispered.
Shhh!” Naamah warned, following him. “Just take it and leave.”
As Ham’s eyes adjusted, he could distinguish the shapes of his father and mother sleeping peacefully, their arms interlocked. He stopped suddenly, then stepped back. “He’s . . . he’s uncovered.”
Naamah laid a hand on his back. “What did you expect? The wine was strong.”
Gazing at Noah, Ham smirked. “The great man of God, drunk and naked. Now who’s bringing shame to the family?”
Naamah pushed him forward. “Just take it.”
Ham skulked to his father’s side and fumbled through the clothes that lay on the ground. Ah! Chereb! He picked it up, but his father’s robe came along with it. He pulled at the knot that tied the sword to the robe. “It’s stuck!” he hissed.
Noah stirred, his eyes blinking. Ham froze and waited for his father to settle, hoping his drunken eyes wouldn’t see clearly. When he seemed to rest quietly again, Ham tiptoed back to Naamah with the robe. “I can’t unfasten it.”
“Just bring it all!”
Ham and Naamah slipped out of the tent, but just as they turned toward their own tent, Shem and Japheth hailed them from a distance. Ham held the robe and sword behind his back while Naamah clawed at the knot. Just as Ham’s brothers drew near, Naamah whispered, “I have it. I’ll hide it under my robe.”
Shem nodded a greeting. “Visiting Father?”
“Yes.” Ham shifted his weight and glanced back at Noah’s tent. “He seemed ill when he retired, so I thought I’d check on him.”
“Just some bad wine,” Japheth said, laughing. “He’ll feel better in the morning.”
Shem glanced around Ham’s side. “What are you hiding back there?”
Ham pulled Noah’s robe around. “I went into the tent, and Father was . . . well . . . uncovered.”
“So you took his clothes?” Japheth snatched the robe away. “What are you up to?”
“Well, I was just . . .” Ham crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s none of your business.”
Shem grabbed Ham by the throat. “You’ve humiliated father for the last time!”
Ham caught Shem’s wrists and wrestled his hands away. “I didn’t go in there to shame him!” he said, pushing Shem back. “He was already uncovered when I went in.”
Japheth shook the robe at him. “Then why did you take this?”
“Naamah was cold.” Ham turned, but Shem took a fistful of his sleeve and spun him back around. Ham scowled at him. “What now?”
Japheth laid a hand on Shem’s wrist. “Let him go. Father will deal with him later.”
Shem jerked his hand back and raised his finger near Ham’s nose. “Father told me that anyone who brings corruption back to this earth will be under God’s curse. If you are the corrupter, Father will have no choice but to pronounce the curse on you and your descendants.”
Ham turned again and stalked away. “Come, Naamah.” Refusing the temptation to look back, he strode through a pasture and crested a low hill next to Noah’s vineyard, his wife hustling to stay at his side. When he was sure they were out of earshot, he stopped and turned to her. “Where is it?”
Naamah clutched a fold at the front of her robe. “Right here.”
Ham peered over Naamah’s shoulder at Shem and Japheth as they approached Noah’s tent. His brothers had draped Noah’s robe over their shoulders, and they were walking backwards into the tent’s opening. Ham shook his head. “The fools! They still believe in that old tyrant.”
Naamah touched his arm. “Don’t worry about them. They don’t know what we really did.”
“They’ll know soon enough. When Father wakes up, they’re sure to tell him that I had his robe, and he’ll figure out that I took Chereb.”
“Then you must leave before the wine wears off.” She pulled the sword from her robe and laid it in his hands. “I’ll follow with Canaan and our belongings later.”
“You heard what Shem said. If Canaan is here, and I’m not, Father might curse him in my place.”
“I will soothe your father’s anger.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Now go.”
Ham folded his robe around the sword. “We will meet at the third hill past the dark forest. Do you remember the glade next to the river?”
“Yes, of course. Look for me there at sunset on the third day.”
Ham nodded and hurried through the vineyard.
With Shem and Japheth standing at the entry, Noah paced back and forth inside his tent, his hands behind his back. Shem pushed open the flap. “She’s here,” he said.
Naamah walked in, carrying her sleeping one-year-old in a blanket, her eyes darting all around. With the bundle almost too big for the petite woman to manage, she briefly dipped one knee and nodded. “What may I do for you, my masters?”
Noah grabbed Naamah’s wrist. “Who are you?”
Her eyes flew open, and her voice trembled. “I am Naamah, your servant.” She clutched her baby closer to her chest. “I am the wife of your son, Ham.”
“No, I mean who are you really?” Noah tightened his grasp. “Where did you come from?”
“My father is Lamech of the line of Cain, and my mother is Zillah.” As she stared at Noah’s fierce grip on her arm, tears welled in her eyes. “Why do you ask me about things you already know?”
Noah jerked his hand away. “Don’t take me for a fool,” he shouted. “I have watched you ever since you boarded the ark with my son, and I know when someone is hiding a secret. Last night, as drunk as I was, I saw you bring him into my tent. You enticed him to take Chereb from me, and I want to know why.”
Naamah lowered herself to her knees, her eyes pleading. “I am a servant, Father Noah. Ham asked me to be his wife, and I accepted. Since he rescued me from death, I serve him with all my heart. So when he commanded me to help him steal the sword, I obeyed, as any obedient wife should.”
“He mocked me!” Noah shouted, shaking his finger. “He was pleased to see me shamed! And you saw it all.”
“I do not pretend to know my husband’s motives, Father Noah, nor do I know why he gazed upon you, but I am a chaste woman, and I assure you that I turned my head. I know what is forbidden to my eyes.”
Noah’s brow slowly relaxed, and he gestured for her to get up. As she rose, Noah looked at his two sons. “Should I believe her?” he asked.
Shem nodded. “You warned me not to be a merciless judge, Father, so I advise compassion. I know what Ham would have done to her had she disobeyed.”
“I agree,” Japheth said. “I have watched how she cares for Canaan. I guess I have a soft spot in my heart for mothers.”
Noah sighed. “As do I. Perhaps too soft.” He extended his hand toward the baby and caressed its cheek. “I still sense a dark secret in your heart, Naamah, but I will forgive your transgression.”
“Oh, thank you!” Naamah rose to the balls of her feet and kissed Noah. She pulled Canaan’s arm out of the blanket and guided his hand across Noah’s beard. “Say thank you to Grandfather!”
Japheth leaned close, his jaw dropping open. He nudged his brother’s ribs. “Shem,” he whispered. “Six fingers!”
Shem shoved his way between his father and Canaan, grabbed the sleeping child’s hand, and spread out his fingers. “Father! Look!”
Noah seemed perplexed for a moment, his lips moving as his eyes numbered the five fingers and thumb. “So that’s your secret!” he yelled, his face flushing scarlet. “You have carried the demon seed into our refuge!”
Naamah backed away, her whole body shaking. “No. I am a woman. I carry no seed but what my father has passed on to me.”
Noah’s eyes flashed, and he pushed his hand through his white hair. “How can this be? Only a demon or a Naphil can pass on such a seed, and Canaan was born eleven months after the flood began, so Ham must be the father.”
Stepping slowly backwards, Naamah gave him a quick bow. “Then by your leave, Father Noah, if you are convinced that my son is of the devil, I will go now and cast both of our bodies into the sea. Far be it from your servants to bring corruption back into our new world.”