Abraham Allegiant (Chronicles of the Nephilim Book 4) (29 page)

Abram’s coalition forces would make their decisive victory complete by returning the captured men, women, and children, along with the plundered goods back to the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Abram left it to Chedorlaomer whether he wanted to trouble himself to chase his troublemakers all the way back into Canaan. After the long drawn out campaign, he doubted he would.

Abram arrived in the Valley of Shaveh just outside the city of Salem a few miles north of the Oaks of Mamre. He had sent messengers to Sodom to meet in this location for the return of the people and goods to Sodom and Gomorrah.

Lot stood next to Abram, Mamre, Eschol, and Aner in the small meeting tent, as they watched the two kings approach them on the field. King Bera arrived in a pompous regal escort with horns and attendants, a leg of mutton in his right hand. When he entered the tent, his monstrous obesity almost did not fit through the entrance. The four attendants who usually helped him to move around and go to the toilet waited outside as he sat now on a large carpet.

He disgusted Abram. He wondered what had gripped the soul of his nephew to desire such a decadent city and its debauched king whose body odor alone was enough to make one gag.

The other king arriving was the king of Salem, Melchizedek. He was a mysterious leader whose past was unknown to Abram. There was something very different about this ruler. He arrived with a simple escort bringing bread and wine for their meeting. He wore a long robe with a hood rather than a crown. He had a well-groomed beard, and spoke as if he did not belong on earth.

Lot could not keep his eyes off the mysterious Melchizedek as he entered the tent, followed by a censor of incense. He offered the bread and wine as a symbolic meal of fellowship between the three leaders.

Before they sat down to the feast spread out before them, Melchizedek ordered one of his guards to bring forward several items; a set of cuneiform tablets, a compound bow, and a strange looking sword handle sticking out of a small leather pouch.

He handed them to Abram and said, “Blessed be Abram by El Elyon, God Most High, possessor of heaven and earth. And blessed be El Elyon who has delivered your enemies into your hand. I give these heirlooms to you.”

“What are they?” asked Abram.

Melchizedek gestured to the weapons and said, “They are angelic weapons used by your ancestors. This is the Bow of Enoch and the whip sword of Lamech. They were both mighty giant slayers in their day.”

Abram said, “How did you come by them?” Melchizedek was looking familiar to him, but he still could not place him.

“That is not important,” said the mysterious king. “All you need know is that they are yours for safekeeping, to pass down through your seedline. The bow is made of heavenly metal and strung with indestructible Cherubim hair. The sword is also heavenly metal that is both flexible like a whip and durable as the strongest sword. Your ancestor Lamech called it, “Rahab” after the sea dragon, because of its destructive capability.”

Bera had already turned his interest to the food and was imbibing his appetite as he listened.

Melchizedek then picked up one of the clay tablets and said, “These are the toledoth tablets. They contain the generations of your family all the way back to Adam.”

Abram looked at it. He already had some genealogy tablets he had received from Noah. But they were not as complete as these. He
could see these tablets also contained stories of his forefathers that he would one day pass down to his posterity as well.

Abram stared into Melchizedek’s eyes with intense curiosity. “How old are you?” he asked.

Melchizedek hesitated, as if not sure he should answer. But he did. “Five hundred and twenty years old.”

“Last of the old-timers,” quipped Bera from his feasting.

Then Abram figured it out. His eyes widened. “Are you —?”

Melchizedek put his finger to his lips. “I am Melchizedek, king of Salem. I have no past. I am the servant of El Elyon, the most high God.”

But at that moment Abram knew he was talking to Shem ben Noah, the blessed seedline, his great ancestor. It was the reason why he was so old, and why he had the weapons that could only have been handed down from Noah. After the Tower of Babel debacle, Shem must have moved to Canaan and created a new identity for himself, wiping away his past as the sons of Noah turned corrupt.

The gluttonous Bera had just stuffed the remainder of a loaf into his mouth and was still chewing it, grunting like a pig, when he spoke out, “What about me? Do I not get blessed?”

It took a moment for Abram to recall what Bera must have been ruminating over.

“You have the return of your people and spoils,” said Melchizedek.

Abram butted in, “After a tenth of everything given to the good king Melchizedek for his priestly services and mediation.”

“Of course, of course,” grunted Bera, and he finished the wine, with some of it spilling down his beard. He ended with a rancid smelling belch, but then turned sly.

“Abram, you can take the goods you have confiscated, just give me back the people stolen from me.”

“I do not think you understand,” said Abram. “I have lifted my hand to El Shaddai, God Almighty, who is El Elyon, possessor of heaven and earth, that I would not take a thread or sandal strap of anything that is yours, lest you should say that you had made me rich.”

Bera’s beady eyes narrowed, “No man is without his price.”

Abram said, “I will take nothing but what we have eaten. As for Mamre, Eshcol, and Aner, let them take their shares, for they have been worthy allies.”

“Indeed,” said Bera. “And would your Amorite confederation consider a covenant with the Cities of Love to build a wider alliance of defense?”

Abram stared at Bera with disgust. “I would sooner form an alliance with Sheol.”

“Well,” said Bera, “I guess you think you have purchased the right to insult me.”

Their growing antagonism was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of messengers on horseback from Mamre. They entered the tent and bowed before Abram and Mamre winded from a speedy ride.

“My lords, Arba has attacked our clans.”

Abram and the three Amorite brothers raced their forces back to the Oaks of Mamre just a few miles south of Salem. Abram was horrified. That scheming miscreant giant waited until all the best warriors had left on their rescue mission to attack their unprotected villages. He did not have the honor to fight them like a man or giant. And Abram knew exactly what Arba’s motivation was: Sarai.

The leaders each found their villages’ remains. The few soldiers were all killed, but the women and children had not been taken captive.

Abram found Eliezer, who was bruised, but alive, only to confirm that the one captive taken was indeed Abram’s beloved.

Abram met with Mamre, Eshcol, and Aner to assess their options.

He said to them, “My brothers, you have been more than hospitable all these years, and now your help in my rescue mission of Lot has brought this down upon our heads. I will take my forces against Arba to the last man, but your duty to me is done. You owe me no help in this matter.”

Mamre stared at Abram with angry eyes.

“Nonsense, you dimwitted Mesopotamian. You would not have a chance against that giant clan. They are the finest Nephilim warriors of Canaan, and they devastated our lives just as much as your own.”

Eshcol said, “Let us finish what Chedorlaomer started.”

The four of them were suddenly aware of a presence with them. Three well-built paladins seemed to have slipped in out of nowhere to stand amongst them in the shadows.

They were Uriel, Mikael, and Gabriel.

Mikael said, “We have little time. We must hurry.”

Lot asked, “How are we going to assault Arba? He has a superior elevated position on the hill.”

Mamre said with a smirk, “I have studied them for years to figure out their weakness, just in case we might need it some day. Today is that day.”

• • • • •

The stone palace of Arba was quite impressive in its display over the village of Kiriath-Arba. It rested near the top of the hill overlooking the rest of the town with an eye toward expanding its kingdom territory much farther in the future. Its parapets hosted watch guards that could see for miles. It was surrounded by a moat and its stone walls were ten feet thick and able to withstand just about anything that could be unleashed on them. It was a harbinger of what was to come, as Arba planned to build a stone walled fortified city that would be impenetrable. He just needed more workers to be able to accomplish it and their birth rate was not as high as normal humans, so he needed more time.

Inside those palace walls a lonely and terrified Sarai wept on a huge bed about thirteen feet long with the finest satin sheets and down pillows. She had been placed in this “comfortable confinement” after she was captured from her tent in Mamre by the giant attack. She had seen Eliezer get knocked out trying to defend her, and when a giant raised an ax to behead the faithful servant, Sarai had screamed to stop. She would go willingly if they promised not to kill any more of her people.

She figured that Abram would be back by now and may already be negotiating ransom with the giant king Arba in order to get her return. But she could not stop weeping at the thought of how much pain she would have put her husband through in getting captured like a petty slave.

“Oh, stop your blubbering, and dry up your tears you old hag,” came a voice behind her.

It was Naqiya, the queen of this clan, who was bitterly resentful of Sarai’s entire existence. She was jealous of her beauty and of her grace, and to make it all worse, Naqiya was also feeling very fat with her large pregnant belly ready to give birth. But she knew the king’s desires, and once King Arba wanted something, he would not stop till he got it, and anyone who stood in his way would be executed. It was the reason why Arba forced Naqiya to learn Abram’s language which she now spoke to Sarai.

Naqiya spit out, “You are the property of King Arba, and I have been cursed with the unenviable insult of preparing you.”

“Preparing me?” said Sarai. “Has my husband returned in negotiation for my ransom?”

Naqiya looked at Sarai as one would a naïve child. “Are you really that stupid? Preparation for concubinage, quim. Arba is not going to ‘ransom’ you, he is going to rape you.”

Sarai’s world fell in around her. She felt dizzy.

She
had
been foolish; foolish to believe in a world of honor and dignity amongst leaders, foolish to forget what she had seen in that monster years ago. She was helpless. Just the thought of Arba’s massive mutant six-fingered hands groping her body made vomit rise in her throat.

All she could do was bow her head and pray to El Shaddai.

Naqiya had already walked over to the bath and was drawing the water.

“Stop that nonsense,” she barked, “Get into this bath
now
and clean yourself.”

Sarai got off her bed and walked cautiously toward the bath and her giant pregnant opponent. She slowly dropped her robe and felt naked and vulnerable like a slave. She could feel the queen’s eyes look her body over with envy and jealousy.

Naqiya barked, “We do not have all night.”

Sarai got in the bath.

Suddenly Naqiya felt a stabbing pain in her belly. She winced and made a slight moan.

“Is everything all right, Naqiya?” asked Sarai.

Naqiya looked at Sarai with an angry incredulity. Naqiya was openly seething with hatred for her, and yet this idiot bimbo was all concerned about Naqiya’s welfare? It made her even more irritated.

Sarai washed herself as Naqiya discharged her duty of explaining how to please the king.

Sarai looked up at her large nemesis, wondering how she would survive the physical penetration of her giant husband.

• • • • •

There was only one possible way to attack the fortified compound of Kiriath-Arba with surprise, by attacking it from its backside. But the backside was what made the hill almost inapproachable. It was a steep ravine of a thousand feet or so that could only be scaled by experienced rock climbers and certainly not a several thousand-soldier army.

The secret that made it
almost
inapproachable was held tightly by Mamre after his spies had discovered it in years past. Up at the top of the hill was the religious and astronomical megaliths set up for excarnation of their dead. After the bones were picked clean by scavenger birds, they would place them in ossuaries and bring them below in a catacomb of tombs.

Mamre pointed to the map showing the approximate layout of tunnels below the hillside town of Kiriath-Arba.

“That catacomb of tomb tunnels has a secret backside exit,” said Mamre. “I know where that exit is.”

Abram said, “I reckon it is a small one.”

“One at a time,” said Mamre. “We could not possibly get an army through it in time.”

“We do not want to,” said Abram. “The army will attack exactly where they would be expected to, the front of the town. The archangels and I will take the tomb and engage in a behind the lines extraction while everyone else is focused on you pummeling their forces out front.”

“I want to go with,” said Lot.

“No,” said Abram. “I will not lose you again, nephew.”

“Uncle, before Sarai was yours, she raised me. I loved her as an older sister, more dear than my own wife. I am going whether you like it or not.”

The angels were sympathetic.

But Abram was not, and Lot could see that.

Lot said, “I can do some fancy things with bitumen that you will not believe.”

That drew a raised brow of interest from Abram. Lot was finally getting his headstrong uncle to listen to him. “Living in Sodom is not all bad, you know.”

Gabriel added, “I think it is appropriate for me to reveal a few heavenly secrets about bitumen that just might add some kick to your earthly ones, if El Shaddai does not mind.”

Abram said, “Get going. We have a village of giants to conquer.”