People of the Flood (Ark Chronicles 2) (24 page)

6.

A hard spring rain melted the snow, and fifteen weary
Hunters loped through the gate like a pack of hungry wolves.

Within the hour
, Kush, Canaan, Put and Menes met, with an extra chair for Ham beside a roaring fire and two for Nimrod and Gilgamesh.

Gilgamesh still had a scraggly beard and otherwise smooth features, but there seemed to be a certain aggressiveness to him that hadn
’t been there before. The changes to Nimrod were subtler. He moved the way a king of lions might. He also cradled a cheetah cub in the crook of his arm, scratching its ears as he waited for the elders to settle into place.

“
We’re glad for your safe return,” Canaan said.

“
Yes. Jehovah be praised,” Ham said.

His sons glanced at him, while Gilgamesh momentarily lost some of his self-possession.

“Jehovah?” Nimrod asked.

“
Uh, yes,” Ham said.

“
We didn’t see Jehovah during the journey. Although many times my Hunters revived themselves through force of will. Together we chased hyenas, slew a pack of wild dogs and bagged a bull elephant.” Nimrod grinned. “We ate like kings after that. And from the soles of the elephant’s pads, we fashioned new shoes. That is how we survived. Through valor and cunning, not upon an unseen being’s whims.”

Ham plucked at his beard, while Put shifted uneasily.

“The important thing is that you’re back,” Canaan said. “All of you.”

“
Perhaps as important,” Nimrod said, “is that my father’s prediction was right.”

“
How so?” Canaan asked.

“
The land of milk and honey,” Nimrod said, “isn’t that what you predicted, Father?”

Kush nodded.

Nimrod flashed his smile and described the Land between the Two Rivers, with its herds of antelopes, asses and elephants and lions, hyenas and wild dogs. He spoke of rich soil without trees or stones in it, so they wouldn’t have to waste time clearing fields. Just plant the seeds and abundant crops would pop into existence. “As the fields yielded during the Antediluvian times, our fields will do likewise on the plain of Shinar.”

“
Shinar?” Menes asked.

“
A name coined by my father,” Nimrod said.

“
Where did you learn this name?” Menes asked.

Kush made an airy gesture.

“I foresee a mighty culture,” Nimrod said, “one of artistic brilliance and walled cities.”

“
You’ve become a poet,” Canaan said.

“
A dreamer,” said Put, not unkindly.

“
Rather I dare to believe in what we can achieve,” Nimrod said. “As a foretaste of our coming glory, I’ve already named the Twin Rivers the Tigris and the Euphrates.”

Ham sat up
. “Those are the names of two of the four rivers that once flowed out of Eden.”

“
Yes,” Nimrod said, “for I foresee a new Eden.”

Menes laughed good-naturedly
. He was imperiously tall, the tallest of Ham’s sons. “I’m curious, Nimrod. How did you acquire the cheetah cub?”

“
Him?” Nimrod said, rubbing the cub’s head.

A knock interrupted the meeting, and Miriam, Canaan
’s wife, who still wore a turban, hurried in with tears.

“
What it is, wife?” Canaan said.

She handed him a piece of parchment.

Puzzled, Canaan scanned it and grew pale. He dropped the note as he fell into the nearest chair.

Kush
walked to his brother and put his hand on Canaan’s shoulder, whispering.

Canaan shook his head.

Miriam said, “Beor has left.”

“
What do you mean
left
?” Menes asked.

“
Gone to Japheth,” wept Miriam.

“
Japheth?” Ham asked. “Whatever for?”

“
Surely he can’t get far on one leg?” Nimrod said.

“
He has a chariot,” Ham said. “One we built together.”

“
Oh,” Nimrod said.

Gilgamesh asked,
“Did he go alone?”

Nimrod jumped up in alarm, but only Ham noticed.

“Why would he leave?” wept Miriam. “Why?”

“
What does the note say?” Ham asked.

Nimrod picked it off the floor, his features stark
. “Just that he’s leaving.” He approached Miriam. “Did Beor… did he leave alone?”

“
What?” Miriam asked.

“
Did Semiramis go with him?” Nimrod asked.

“
Oh, both Semiramis and Hilda,” Miriam wept. She turned to Canaan. “Husband, what are we going to do?”

“
Gilgamesh!” Nimrod said. “Gather the Hunters.”

“
What’s wrong, my son?” Kush said.

A wild look filled Nimrod
. Then he and Gilgamesh bolted out the door.

7.

Hilda wore a fur jacket like the others, and she hung onto chariot railing, watching the dreary landscape.

Stepmother Semiramis slouched morosely in the chariot, with her hands bound behind her back and while bundled in a giant fur parka caked with mud
. Her father flicked the reins, staring ahead and never looking down at her or his wife. The chariot wheels churned through mud, the donkeys trudging dutifully as the whip cracked now and again behind their twitching ears.

Several bags of jerky and waterskins, two blankets, axes, daggers and
a bow and arrow-case completed their possessions.

“
I don’t understand why we’re leaving,” Hilda said.

“
Be quiet,” her father said, not angrily, but a command nonetheless.

“
We’re leaving because he can’t have me,” Semiramis said.

Hilda stared at her
. Then she glanced up at father, at her huge father with his granite face, his mouth compressed and his eyes hard on the horizon.

“
Because you two don’t sleep in the same room?” Hilda whispered.

Semiramis nodded.

“But, but… You two no longer lie together?” Hilda asked. She had often spoken with her friends about the subject. They had often seen sheep and cattle mate, to say nothing about dogs and chickens. They understood about procreation, and that the adults didn’t like to be eavesdropped on when they did it.

“
I will not lie with a cripple,” Semiramis said.

Beor nudged her with his peg leg
. “Watch your mouth, you harlot. That’s my daughter you’re speaking to.”

Semiramis turned away.

The chariot lurched along the trail; the wheels clattering over a stony section as they passed gloomy woods perched on a slope. A dead, lightning-burnt pine stood among the living trees, with a raven sitting in its nest on an upper branch and watching them. Hilda eyed the raven, wondering if she would ever come home again.

Beor
let the donkeys run. The small beasts trotted for hours, tireless but stubborn, strange creatures, resembling the mythic horses but having none of their legendary grace and beautiful speed.

Semiramis watched the terrain dull-eyed, and from time to time
, she scanned the horizon. They had left several hours before Nimrod’s return and knew nothing about it.

The sun sank toward the horizon and a cold wind blew, with the hint of more rain in the air.

“Take a good long look around,” rumbled Beor.

Semiramis glanced at him, sneering
. “Will you chain me like a dog at Japheth’s?”

“
Don’t be ludicrous.”

“
You can’t always watch me,” she said.

“
Believe me, that isn’t my intention,” Beor said.

Semiramis fell into moody silence, and she elbowed Hilda, who had fallen asleep against her.

Hilda stirred, rubbing her eyes. “I’m cold, Daddy.”

“
Huddle against Semiramis,” he said.

“
No,” Semiramis said. “I don’t want your brat touching me.”

Beor drew the reins, and when they stopped
, he threw the brake. “Stay here,” he told Hilda.

Semiramis paled as fear coursed through her eyes
. Beor propelled her out of the chariot.

“
Daddy?”

“
Stay here,” Beor said.

Hilda swallowed
. She watched them pass a boulder and enter a stand of trees. Soon, she heard her father. He spoke sternly, then too quietly for her to hear. In time, Semiramis staggered back into sight, with Beor clumping after her.

“
Well?” he said.

Semiramis mumbled something unintelligible.

Beor’s face seemed to turn to stone.

Semiramis caught the change
. She told Hilda, “I’m sorry. You’re not a brat.”

Hilda nodded.

Beor’s flesh seemed to soften. He blinked and took a deep breath. “We can still travel,” he said.

They climbed into the chariot and made another league before the first star appeared.

“No fire tonight,” Beor said.

So they shivered together under the same blanket, their warmth keeping each other from freezing and the woods blocking some of the wind
. In the morning, they resumed the trek. They reached lower ground, and the sun warmed the air.

The chariot jolted
, and so did Semiramis. “I know you’re stronger than me,” she began near noon.

Beor grunted, while Hilda raised her chin
. She’d been in a daze, not asleep and not really awake. She slid away from Semiramis and hugged her drawn-up knees.

“
You have the power to beat me if you want to,” Semiramis said.

Beor glanced at her.

“I know you think you have cause to hate me,” Semiramis said.

Like a burned
-out torch, Beor revealed not a thing.

“
Several years ago, you bought me like a dog or a sheep from my father,” Semiramis said. “I was a prize, another thing like your cap to point to. You never loved me, never cared for me the way—”

He held up his hand, and the hint of a frown played on his lips.

Semiramis followed his stare, looking back along the trail. Trees grew here and there, rocks and boulders littered the ground and tuffs of winter grass.

Hilda glanced back
. In the distance, men with long shields jogged after them. Hilda pulled on his coat. “Look, Daddy.”

“
I see them.”

Semiramis clapped both hands over her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes.

Beor studied the distant men, obviously Hunters by their long, narrow shields, four of them. The Hunters hailed them, at least indistinct voices drifted on the breeze.

“
Nimrod isn’t getting you, my pretty little harlot,” Beor said.

Hilda shrank from her father
. How could he speak like that?

“
Hiya!” shouted Beor, flicking the reins. The donkeys trotted faster, bit by bit pulling away from the distant Hunters.

“
Can you keep away from them all the way to Japheth Land?” Semiramis asked.

Beor ignored her as he scanned ahead.

Hilda watched the Hunters. They loped tirelessly, two men ahead of the other two.

“
If you kill me, then Nimrod will kill Hilda.”

Hilda moaned.

“What cruelty makes you scare a child?” Beor asked. “I’ve never threatened you with death, never even laid a hand upon you in anger.”

Semiramis hunched under her heavy jacket and remained silent.

Beor turned the donkeys down a deeper grade. The chariot rolled faster. In the distance threaded the blue ribbon of a river and a forest beyond it.

Semiramis readjusted her position
. Hilda crouched spellbound and terrified, and she touched her throat, wondering if Nimrod and his Hunters would really cut hers.

A quarter-league later
, as the grade leveled out and more grass appeared than stones, Semiramis screamed and sprang out of the chariot. She rolled end over end on the ground, while Beor shouted with rage and drew the reins.

Dazed, shaking her head, Semiramis struggled to her knees and then to her feet
. She ran for the Hunters in the distance. Their cries floated on the breeze.

Cursing, with his thick fingers rigid, Beor lashed the donkeys
. They brayed and dashed after Semiramis. Within the rattling chariot, Hilda climbed to her feet, watching the tableau as she clung tight. Sunlight glinted off distant spears. Nearby, Semiramis threw a terrified glance over her shoulder. The heavy coat impeded her running as it flapped around her ankles. She wheezed and shrieked as the chariot neared. With desperation, she leaped and rolled, and Beor’s outstretched fingers missed her. He drew rein. She struggled up again and ran, doubled over and gasping.

Hissing through his teeth, his face crimson and hard like slate, Beor drew a spear from a slotted holder.

“No, Daddy, please! Don’t kill her. Don’t kill her,” Hilda sobbed.

Lashed to run, the donkeys once more closed on a zigzagging Semiramis.

The Hunters no longer looked so distant. Nimrod ran in the lead, followed by Gilgamesh, Chamoth and bull-like Uruk further behind.

Hilda clung to the railing, seeing the bitter determination on her father
’s bearded face. They neared Semiramis. Beor held onto the reins with one hand, leaned against the railing nearest Semiramis and reached out with the spear. He swung and cracked the wood against the back of Semiramis’ knees. She screamed, pitched to the dirt and grunted as the air whooshed out of her. She lay stunned. Beor turned the chariot, bringing it near her prone but breathing body.

Beor leaped from the cart and lifted her and half-pushed and half
-carried her to the chariot. Stashing her in the cart, he picked up the reins and roared at the hard-breathing donkeys.

“
Beor!” Nimrod shouted.

Beor didn
’t look back. Concentration filled him as the stubborn donkeys began to run.

The fastest Hunter of all, a slim youth named Dakis, rose like a lion from the grass, a flint-tipped javelin in his fist.
He must have been sent ahead some time ago, a sprinting scout. He heaved the javelin, not at Beor but at the chariot team.

The donkey nearest the Hunter hee-hawed awfully and stumbled, dragging the chariot to a halt.

Surprised, thrown against the railing, Hilda bounced backward and fell out. She saw her father grab his bow. Semiramis, half-awake again, shrieked, kicking out, her heels striking Beor’s good leg. He hopped out the chariot, out of range of her legs, and he began to string the heavy bow.

“
Beor!” shouted the Hunter. Dakis tore a stone knife from his scabbard, and he hurled his sweat-slicked body at the massive man. Beor dropped the bow and snatched a hand-axe from his belt. He ripped a savage uppercut, the bronze axe-blade shattering Dakis’s flint knife and driving up against his jaw, splitting bone to jar into the Hunter’s lower teeth.

Dakis pitched to the side of the trail, groaning, bleeding profusely.

In that time, Nimrod and Gilgamesh neared, sweat dripping from them and their sides heaving as they blew white-misted breath. Chamoth and Uruk stumbled after them, but were still a ways behind.

Hilda stared at the gasping, javelin-wounded beast
. Even she knew it would take time to cut that donkey out of the harness and for them to get going again. She glanced at the Hunters. The Dragon-Slayer looked as angry as her daddy did. The little man with a wolf-cap almost drooping over his eyes seemed scared, and he coughed, sending mist puffing out his open mouth.

Beor snarled, limping at Nimrod, perhaps deciding to finish this for good.

Nimrod slowed, and he half-hid behind his narrow shield. He held his spear one-handed and panted uncontrollably. “You bastard,” he shouted.

Beor
’s eyes smoldered, and his heavy beard bristled. “Let’s finish it, little puppy. You and me.”

Nimrod motioned Gilgamesh back
. The other two Hunters yet staggered to join them. As Nimrod used his forearm to wipe sweat out of his eyes, Beor bellowed and charged with a limp. Nimrod thrust out his shield and jabbed with his spear, perhaps surprised at Beor’s ability to cover distance with a peg leg. Beor seemed to have been waiting for just such a hasty move. For all his bulk, Beor twisted deftly, grabbed the spear behind the sharp head and jerked, yanking the spear from a startled Nimrod. Beor brought his axe down. Nimrod blocked with his shield and leaped back. Beor also leaped back, switching the spear to his right hand. He roared and hurled, and the spear tore through the five layers of shield—only luck saved Nimrod. The head sank into his side, ripping flesh but not vitals.

“
Stop!” Gilgamesh shouted, who had strung his bow. An arrow now aimed at Beor.

“
You and me, Nimrod!” Beor shouted.

Nimrod pressed his hand against his bloody side
. He appeared dazed.

Beor shook his axe as spittle flew from his mouth
. “Coward! Fight me!”

Chamoth staggered near
. He wheezed and was pale and trembling, with his eyes glazed. Uruk stamped behind him and was covered in sweat, swaying and then dropping to his knees and vomiting as he sobbed.

“
A fine crew,” Beor said. “They’re worthy of having an adulterer for a leader.”

“
Don’t blame him,” Gilgamesh said, coughing hoarsely. “Semiramis has thrown herself at Nimrod.”

“
Set down your coward’s weapon, boy. Then
you
can throw yourself at
me
,” Beor said.