Joshua Valiant (Chronicles of the Nephilim) (16 page)

Someone threw a sword into the arena near Ahiman.

But he did not take it up.

He did
not need it.

When
Abi turned toward Ahiman, he was ready.

Ahiman had
figured the pattern of Abi’s slashing swings and used the leather belt like a whip to wrap around the General’s hand, jerking him forward into the dirt.

Ahiman stepped on the sword hand and crushed
Abi’s palm and six fingers beneath his weight.

Ahiman kicked the sword aside, and kicked
Abi into unconsciousness.

The crowd was rising wit
h bloodlust. Their champion had turned the tables.

Ahiman raised his hands in victory.

The crowd chanted for blood.

Up in the box,
Sheshai looked at King Hoham. He was stunned.

Sheshai whispered to
him, “My lord, you have the undying allegiance of the brothers Arba. We are your servants.”

Ahiman had just won the contest and proved his cause.
His accusations against the General and his bodyguards were proven justified by the gods.

But Ahiman was not done. Far from it.

He knelt down and grabbed Abi’s head in his hands. There was no need to crush his skull as he had Okrl’s. He was going to do something different to his General.

Something more spectacular.

He knelt on the supine giant’s sternum and pulled on the head with all his might.

The body of the mighty
General was woven together with strong muscles and tendons.

But those muscles and tendons began to tear at the brute force of Ahiman’s grip.

And then a popping sound penetrated the stadium as Ahiman ripped the giant’s head and spine from his body, showing his superior strength.

He
raised the disgorged skull and skeletal column high above like a trophy.

The chanting of the
multitude had become so loud it drowned out all thoughts.

Sheshai needed no words to accentuate. The
actions showed a mighty gibbor hero of the masses.

Talmai was smiling with pride over his big brother.

Ahiman reached down with his hand and thrust it under the General’s sternum and penetrated into his body cavity.

He
grabbed the heart and ripped it from the corpse. He took a massive bite out of the organ. Then, chewing on his victory, he raised the heart high to the assembly along with the skeletal column.

There was no stopping him. Ahiman was the champion of
the Anakim.

As he strode to the king’s box to present his
bloody tokens of victory to the king, Sheshai pulled Talmai aside and whispered into his ears over the din of the multitude, “You see, brother, political strategy achieved what raw fury could not. Had you rushed into the ring to lessen the odds, the victory would be less as well. We are now more trusted than ever.”

Talmai smirked with satisfaction. Sheshai’s strategy
of false accusation had worked.

Might made right.

•
• • • •

King Hoham
sat on his throne before the three kneeling Arba brothers. With sword on each shoulder, and Ba’al priest sprinkling holy blood, he proclaimed, “Sheshai and Talmai, I sanctify you as my personal bodyguard and war council.”

Then he turned to Ahiman and pronounced, “Ahiman, by your just proof of righteousness
before the gods in the Arena of Gilgamesh, and the display of your faithful loyalty to your king, I anoint you as the new General supreme of my armed forces in the name of Ba’al the most high god.”

The ceremony would be later. For now, Hoham had to
appoint the new positions lest unrest turn to anarchy in the ranks of the military. Ahiman would be the most feared general the Anakim army ever served.

But his aim was much higher. That is, Sheshai’s aim was much higher.

Ahiman was the strongest warrior who ever lived in the land of Canaan, but he was not strong of mind. He understood little and cared less for politics and statecraft. It was Sheshai who coached him behind the scenes, whose advice Ahiman followed with trust.

The Anakim worshipped power
, and Ahiman had that power. But Sheshai knew that power could not rule without politics. And even though Sheshai was not strong enough to ever sit on the throne of his people, he knew he could rule through proxy. His brother commanded the respect and submission of those around him, but Sheshai orchestrated his every move. And he would orchestrate the rule of the state once his brother rose to the throne that they would eventually take from King Hoham.

The initiation was interrupted by the arrival of a messenger. He bowed before the king.

“What news do you bring?” said Hoham.

“My lord, I am loathe to say
it is not good. Have mercy upon me.” Though it was not their fault, messengers were often executed in fits of rage for bad news.

“What say you?” said Hoham.

The messenger said, “The kingdom of Arad is desolate. They were raided by a tribe of Habiru, desert wanderers. They slaughtered every man, woman, and child with ruthless cruelty.”

“All the villages?” asked the king.

“All the villages, my lord. I alone escaped to seek your help.”

The kingdom of Arad
was adjacent to the Anakim stronghold.

Talmai blurted out, “Who are these damned Habiru?”

“I do not know,” said the messenger. “Some say they came from Egypt many years back. But they are not Egyptian.”

Talmai started to get angry. “Some say? Some say? What kind of a scout is it that can only gather hearsay instead of evidence?”

Talmai stepped forward. The messenger stepped back in fear.

“Wait,” said Hoham.
“From Egypt, you say?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Hoham looked at Ahiman, “Do you remember the prophecy of our forefather Anak? Did he not speak of the return of our sworn enemy from Egypt?”

Ahiman glanced at Sheshai, who nodded with subtlety.

Ahiman then nodded to Hoham.

Sheshai leaned in to
quote the prophecy by memory, “The Children of Abraham will one day return to our holy land to finish the evil that their forefather could not; the destruction of Anak. But the sons of Anak will rise up and destroy Abraham’s seed to the very last man, woman, and child.”

Talmai offered
, “We must find out if these Habiru are truly the children of Abraham.”

Hoham concluded, “
Send scouts on reconnaissance to gather intelligence on them.”

Sheshai said, “Immediately, my king.”

But then Hoham concluded, “But regardless of their identity, they have pillaged too close to us, and they have transgressed our boundaries. Ahiman, prepare your forces for war.”

The city of Jericho was located in the most central area of southern Canaan, not far west from the Jordan river, and had the largest spring of freshwater in the land. It had become a lush fertile oasis in the area that lay on the crossroads of access to the entire region. It was also the oldest city on earth, and had experienced many different occupations throughout the millennia.

Because of its
central location and resources, it was of strategic military importance to the region and had evolved as a well-equipped fortress known for its legendary walls. The city was about nine acres of land that hosted a population of a few thousand people, mostly armed forces. Even military forts needed crops, herds and commerce, so its population had expanded to include about one third civilians providing those services. Their patron deity was the moon god, Yarikh.

The walls that surrounded the oval shaped city were twofold. First, a retaining wall about forty feet high
guarded the outer perimeter. But between that wall and the second forty-six foot high wall, was an embankment that rose another forty feet.

Some
of the occupants lived inside the area between these two walls. Since their location provided less protection, the real estate was of less value. This resulted in the more questionable elements of society living between the walls, such as prostitutes, foreign travelers, and dependents on the welfare of the chief commander of the city.

One of those citizens had
a home built against the outer wall to house a tavern and inn.

She was the
innkeeper Rahab, a harlot.

When she first arrived at Jericho, she
had changed her name from Arisha and assumed her new name to disguise her origins. But she had to work for her keep because she had too much dignity to be a lazy dependent on the commander’s good graces of welfare.

Unfortunately, her only training had been in the art of pleasuring men in anticipation of her status as a nymph back in Banias. So she pursued the only thing she could make good money at without
becoming a slave: Prostitution.

At first, she joined a brothel in the
lower class south end of the outer wall embankment. But she was so desired by the men, including some of the upper-class commanders, that she quickly rose in prominence and in income.

Rahab was now twenty
eight years old. And she had a plan. She lived frugally and saved her money so that within a few years, she had saved enough money to purchase a failing tavern in the richer northern district of the rampart embankment.

Her personal fame brought in so much business that she was able to hire her own girls and become a madam, retaining only the richest
or highest military clientele for herself.

She had become quite well known in royal circles, but had always turned down offers to become a personal concubine to various
officers who begged for her favor like pathetic mongrels. She wanted her independence and felt empowered to hold an establishment of her own. She had made the profession more respectable.

But her real plan was found in the peculiar character of taverns in the township. They were places of local gossip that kept her on top of everything going on in the city all the way up to the
Chief Commander, who had also slobbered for her affections.

But more importantly, the tavern was the establishment of choice for travelers on their way to and fro through the land. So this allowed her the ability to gain
information on anyone from the Transjordan that might be searching specifically for her. She poured her ale to loosen tongues and kept informed for her own safety.

She had most recently heard from
travelers in the southern Negeb and wilderness of Paran that there was danger in the Transjordan region. Apparently, a tribe of desert nomad troublemakers, Habiru, had attacked and destroyed the cities of Arad, and word through the Edomites came that the Habiru were on their way to the Transjordan. That piqued her interest. She would welcome any hostile force to rise up against the kingdom of Bashan because that would include the Serpent Clan of Gilgal Rephaim and maybe even lead all the way to Banias. She made it a point to keep her ears open for that news.

But there was one other thing that she had planned for so many years. S
he saved her money until she could afford to buy back the one thing that had been taken from her so long ago and cast her adrift in a world of pain and sorrow: Her family.

Today was the big day.
She had paid a caravan of mercenaries to travel up to Banias and bring her family back to Jericho. It had taken almost all her savings to ensure their safety, but it was worth it. It took some convincing for them to go, but she proved her intent to them with a secret letter sharing details of her past that only she and her family would know.

Her inability to show her own face in Banias was due to the fact that
should any of the satyrs discover she was alive, they would link her to the disappearance of Izbaxl and sacrifice her on the altar of Azazel. Satyrs were passionate and vengeful creatures. They were given to great excess of emotion, which included animus.

She paid off
her family’s debts, which had kept them enslaved to the community, and brought them back.

She had wondered after all these years, how many of them were still alive and healthy. Her father and mother would be quite old if they
had survived.

She only prayed they did not pay the price of her own
rebellion.

The
day she saw the caravan in the distance through her window on the wall of the city, she could not contain herself. She mounted a horse and rode outside the city walls to meet them.

When the mercenaries saw her coming, they
halted.

Her horse slowed to a canter.

Rahab’s heart raced with hope and fear.

And the first one
s she saw were her two brothers in the lead. They were twins. They were grown now into handsome young men of twenty-six years old. Baraket and Baxilet. But she could tell them apart still.

T
hey did not recognize her.

She got off her horse and pulled back her hood with a smile.

Their eyes went wide.

“Arisha!” they said in unison, and jumped off their horses t
o hug her desperately.

And then she saw her sisters, now in their early twenties, and
beautiful as ever. The oldest, Shiba, was worn looking; the youngest, Yasha, was like a princess.

They screamed her name and
she cried out. They almost fell over with their joyful caresses and kissing of one another.

Rahab could see two young men standing sheepishly by, the husbands of her sisters.

Then Rahab stopped, and she looked around. She felt dread over her soul.

“Mother and father?” she said to them all. “Are they…?”

She could not say it. She feared the worst.

Baraket quipped, “Well, they are old and slow as ever, but
they are not dead, if that is what you mean.”

And then she saw them.

They limped from the back of the caravan with creaky backs and legs.

It was her mother and father.

It had been over sixteen years since she had seen them, but they looked as if they had aged thirty years. She immediately began to cry and broke away from her siblings to meet them.

She stopped in front of them.

They looked at her with shocked unbelief.

“You are so beautiful,” said her mother.

“We thought you were dead,” said her father. “All these years. My little Arisha, you have grown.”

“You are so beautiful,” said her mother again.

The siblings had all drawn near to Rahab.

“I have a new name,” she said. “Rahab.”

“Rahab,” repeated her father. “My Rahab.”

He ope
ned his arms and they embraced, the three of them.

And sixteen years of loneliness, despair
, and sorrow melted into weeping.

“Rahab?” said Baraket, “The name of the sea dragon?”

Everyone began to laugh. Both laugh and cry.

Then Rahab through happy tears croaked out, “Yes, and that means you
had better do what I say, little brother, or you will experience the chaos of my wrath!”

Everyone laughed again
.

“Well, I see you
have not changed, dear sister,” replied Baraket. And they all laughed yet again.

Rahab had redeemed her family. She had so dreaded the possibility th
at they were dead or tortured for her rebellion. But they were not.

“What did you hear of me
when I vanished?” she asked.

Her father explained, “
No one knew. Izbaxl and Sisa both disappeared as well without a trace. Izbaxl’s brother, Xizmat, announced to us that Izbaxl ran away with the two of you.”

Rahab
deduced what had happened. Izbaxl’s pride kept him from explaining anything to his fellow satyrs before leaving to hunt down Arisha. When the dire wolves ate him, they consumed all of Izbaxl’s and Sisa’s bodies and with them all the secrets of that night.

Rahab breathed a deep sigh of relief.

She turned to her family and said, “Come home with me, and I will tell you what happened that night.”

• • • • •

The dire wolves did consume all of Izbaxl’s body that night. All of his body
that was in the woods
. There was a certain severed body part of the satyr however that was left in Arisha’s room. She had completely forgotten about it. It had been tossed onto the floor. But Xizmat had examined the room that same night and found the bloody member lying in the corner.

He
knew that it was Izbaxl’s, and that it proved foul play. But he remained silent and waited for any news to give light to his horrible discovery.

When no
information was forthcoming, he hid the embarrassment of his brother’s emasculation from the rest of the community. He kept it to himself until he could discover new evidence that might bring resolution to the mysterious crime.

W
hen Arisha’s family had been redeemed from their debts and left for the south these sixteen years later, Xizmat immediately remembered them as the family of Arisha. He did not take the connection as a coincidence, and decided to employ a spy to find out where they went.

That spy had followed them to Jericho.