David Ascendant (Chronicles of the Nephilim Book 7) (15 page)

Ishbi knelt before the altar at the feet of Dagon in his holy temple. Lahmi stood behind him and the two others stood back further; Saph and Runihura.

Dagon placed his trident upon Ishbi’s shoulder. Dagon’s mouth was still smudged with the blood of the goat sacrifice he had just consumed next to the corn offering. He said, “I, Dagon, mighty storm god, lord of fertility, and chief of the gods, do appoint thee, Ishbi ben Ob of Endor and Gath, as the general commander of the Sons of Rapha. Serve me well, and you will see victory on the field of war and length of days. Defy me and you will die a thousand deaths in the waters of my wrath.”

Behind the stone statue of Dagon, Asherah whispered to Ba’alzebul, “‘Chief of the gods?’ His ego far exceeds his abilities.”

Ba’alzebul whispered back, “It is time the fish understands he is not our superior.”

At the Sanctuary altar, the Sons of Rapha froze and glanced with shock behind Dagon. Dagon wondered what they were staring at.

And then it hit him, just as Ba’alzebul and Asherah stood next to him.

Ishbi said, “The gods.” The giants knelt and bowed. They were overwhelmed with the imposing presence of Ba’alzebul’s bull horns and Asherah’s battle-maiden voluptuousness.

Dagon gave Ba’alzebul and Asherah a dirty look the giants could not see.

Ba’alzebul pronounced, “Rephaim, you kneel before Ba’alzebul the storm god and Lady Asherah of the Sea. We are here in council with Dagon to commission you in your new calling.”

Dagon fumed. Ba’alzebul had stolen his thunder.

Ba’alzebul continued, “The goddess will now explain to you what we require.”

Asherah saw Dagon was in a quandary. If he lost his temper at their intrusion, he would look weak. If he went along, it would appear to be part of his plan. But either way, Ba’alzebul and Asherah were now running the show — at least for the moment.

Asherah said, “Do you know who this conqueror of your Champion is?”

Ishbi said, “No, my lady. But we will find him and tear him to pieces as an offering to you.”

Dagon was miffed that Ishbi was no longer speaking of his dedication to Dagon, but to her as well.

Ba’alzebul said, “Is it true he is but a child?”

“He is a dog,” said Ishbi.

Ba’alzebul said, “What was Goliath, then, a kitten? And what does that make the rest of you, mice?”

Lahmi spoke out of turn, “Only the messiah king could have defeated Goliath.”

Ishbi shot him an angry look.

Ba’alzebul said, “Yet, you do not know who he is.”

Dagon was increasingly agitated at having his altar taken over by this pair of glory-stealing divine bullies. He tried to reinsert himself into the lead. “Before we can kill him, we must find him. Before we can find him, we must learn who he is and what his powers and weaknesses are.”

Asherah butted in, “Dagon is correct. Return to your king and seek intelligence on this ‘dog.’ But do not seek to kill him without our approval. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, my gods,” said Ishbi. He led the others out of the sanctuary to their waiting squads of Rephaim outside the temple.

Dagon held back his rage through gritted teeth. “How dare you usurp my authority in my own temple.
I
am the god of the Philistines.”

Dagon glared at Ba’alzebul, who looked puffed up and entirely capable of obliterating Dagon if he chose to, let alone gore him like a bull with those horns.

Dagon sought to bluff his way out, using guilt. “I took you under my arm when you were too weak to fend for yourself. I called you my son.” He looked at Asherah. “And you are far from your Sidonian coastal homeland. You had best watch yourself outside of your territory.”

Asherah said, “Do not fret yourself, Dagon. We are not usurping your authority. It is simply time you recognize we are equals and we work together. You cannot do this alone.”

She glanced back and forth at them both like a scolding mother, “Now, if you two do not learn how to get along, then we will be divided and Yahweh will win. Is that what you want?”

Dagon knew she was right. He said, “No.”

Brilliant,
thought Ba’alzebul,
she is playing the mediating mother. Her words would actually make sense — if they weren’t planning on overthrowing Dagon and taking his territory.

Asherah said, “Ba’alzebul, did you hear me? Is that what you want?”

“No,” said Ba’alzebul. He played the part of a boy making up after a playground fight.

Dagon tried to assert some backhanded control. He said to Ba’alzebul, “You can keep Ekron, but I still demand respect in my territory.”

Ba’alzebul said, “Understood.” Ba’alzebul thought,
I will sift you like wheat when the time is right
.

Asherah said, “Dagon, it is time we try my plan that you rejected years ago. I have unmolested access to the Israelite tribes. They worship me. Let me go amongst them, and I will find out everything we need to know about this messiah. Besides, it is time I get out of this tomb and get some fresh air among the peoples.”

Dagon said, “Who are your spies?”

Asherah said, “The Israelites are quite fond of my sacred prostitutes. They move freely in their midst.”

Dagon took a long time to respond. He wanted to make them both feel as if they needed his approval. Philistia was still his allotment from the gods. He would not look weak. That would be his death knell.

“Agreed,” he said. “Let us work together.”

Asherah smiled. “They do not call me the goddess of fecundity for nothing.”

It was too much for Ba’alzebul to hold back. He had been watching Asherah taking charge, showing strength. It turned him on. Her black pulpy lips, her mammoth breasts, her voluptuous hips.

He said, with eyes locked on Asherah’s body, “Now that our fecund Lady of the Sea has set us straight, let us celebrate our new threesome of unity. I am feeling quite virile. How about you, Dagon?”

Dagon smiled. It was all a balance of power. Each display of potency by an individual in their unholy trinity would require an equal display of potency in the other two. And Ba’alzebul’s favored form of potency was sexual conquest.

Ba’alzebul grabbed Asherah’s leather corset in his hands and with one yank, ripped her outfit completely off her body, leaving her naked before the ravenous eyes of the two gods.

The muscle-bound deity said with a jackal-like grin, “I do believe I am hungry.”

Dagon drooled.

Her sensuous female figure was ironically juxtaposed with her male sexual member. She was, after all, a male Watcher in goddess disguise. Though he artificially modified his body to appear female, he would not go so far as to mutilate his own source of debauched pleasure.

Asherah knew she had to fight to make her attackers feel superior. She was strong, but not nearly as strong as Ba’alzebul.

So she fought them on that fortuitous evening, but her attackers overpowered her and raped her until morning.

Goliath’s skull of rotting flesh was paraded before the triumphal procession through the streets of Gibeah. It bothered Saul greatly to have David at the lead carrying the pike with the giant’s head on it. But he had to allow it. Everyone knew that David was the warrior who had killed the Rapha, so Saul could not hide that fact. He had to publish it. It burned like a hot coal on his pride. He wanted his people to worship him, to praise him as their mighty victorious king. He wanted to be the greatest king who ever lived. Instead, David received the glory for chopping off the head of the mightiest Champion in Philistia.

Far worse yet was the music that accompanied the celebration. Women came from all areas of the city, singing and dancing before the procession. It was the custom for such things. They used tambourines, cymbals and bells, and sang a song of praise. But this song was subversive praise. He could not hear all the lyrics, but the ones he did made him burn with anger.

The chorus was clear as the bells they were ringing:

Saul has struck down his thousands,

And David his ten thousands!

Saul has struck down his thousands,

And David his ten thousands!

Saul grew incensed with each verse.
How dare these puny commoners sing such things to my face. Attributing mere thousands to my glory, while attributing a myriad to David? I am their king. He is but my servant.

When he got to the palace, he went straight to his bed chamber. But it was not to rest. It was to fume with mounting anger. He paced around the room. His thoughts grew from indignant to enraged.

I should levy a heavy tax on these ungrateful peasants. Or maybe I should let them face the scimitars and javelins of the Philistines and see if they could kill their mere thousands, while lauding David for his ten thousands
.

He stopped, aware of a presence in the room. His shadow counselor whispered with a hiss of bitterness, “You have every right to be outraged. You are a great and mighty king. David is nothing. He is a minstrel.”

“He killed the Philistine,” countered Saul.

“Yes, but you led the forces of Israel, to slaughter the Philistines all the way back to Ekron and Gath.
You
led them to victory.
You
subdued the Ammonites, the Moabites, the Edomites, and the Amalekites.
You
conquered the mighty giant king Agag.
You
are the anointed messiah king of Israel. David is a mere servant. He is nothing. You could do whatever you wanted with him. You could kill him if you wanted to.”

Saul stood proud, listening to the counsel. His back arched, his chest puffed out, his chin rose with pride. He saw himself looking down upon the masses in contempt. Their pathetic meaningless lives, a mere support to his greatness and glory as their mighty leader.

The shadow whisked around Saul, making him dizzy. The spirit’s words enchanted his ears. “Did your seer ever tell you that he anointed the shepherd boy in his home town of Bethlehem?”

“No,” said Saul, disturbed by the news. “For what?”

“Tch, tch, tch,” mocked Nimrod. “Do you not see what is happening under your very nose, O king?”

Saul listened attentively as Nimrod continued his whispering.

“Let me tell you the story of a king who failed to realize the threat to his own kingdom and what it cost him. There once was a king who united all the peoples under heaven. He was a Mighty Hunter of men with an invincible army. He built a mighty temple-tower with its top in the heavens. It was a meeting place of gods and men, a cosmic mountain between heaven and earth. But the stars foretold of a child who would be born of humble birth, but would rise up and kill his ten thousands, slay kings and inherit the land. The king did not believe such a small and insignificant Hebrew could possibly overthrow him.”

Saul thought Nimrod was telling him a thinly veiled parable of Saul’s kingdom. He did not realize it was the story of Nimrod’s own reign and how it had been crushed by the rise of Abraham and the fall of the Tower of Babel.

“This child grew up and became a nomad. He was surrounded by magic and would prove to be the bane of the king’s existence.” For Nimrod, this bane had been Abraham of Ur. Saul saw it as David. It was of course both, because this was Nimrod’s second chance to crush the heel of the Seed of Abraham that had crushed his head so long ago.

The spirit continued, “The king should have killed the troublesome nomad, but he did not. And that chosen one eventually grew powerful and the king lost his entire realm to the nomad and was driven to madness.”

Nimrod paused to let it sink in. Then he whispered, “O king, you can stop the madness. This shepherd boy, this godlicker, will usurp your throne if you do not stop him. He will steal your greatness and bathe in the glory of your ruins. Is that what you want?”

Saul’s breathing had grown heavier. Everything Nimrod whispered filled his head with confusion. He loved David, but he knew his counselor was right. Yahweh had left Saul. And if he had anointed David, then that meant Saul was destined for madness. Saul would be lost in the mists of history and legend as the warrior king eclipsed by a simple shepherd boy. But he could not kill his devoted and loyal captain of his own bodyguard. Could he?

“Yes. Yes, we can” whispered his counselor.

Saul felt the shadow enter him again, as he had done at previous times. Saul lost all sense of himself, but felt filled with power and strength, like that of a Naphil. He felt like a god. His eyes glazed over and all he could hear was the sound of his unseen controller whispering in his ears, “Kill the usurper. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him!”

It drove Saul mad with rage. But now he felt like he was the Mighty Hunter Nimrod. He would stop the madness. He would kill David. He looked around spasmodically and found a spear. He plucked it up and left his room. He was on the hunt.

David was playing a song with Michal in the musician’s quarters when they heard the screams of female musicians.

He looked up to see Saul enter the far end of the room carrying a spear in his hand. His eyes were filled with madness and rage, the whites alone showing. He spit foam from his mouth like a rabid dog.

Michal spoke in fear, “Father?”

David stood in front of Michal.

Saul juggled the spear in his hand, preparing to throw it.

David spoke quickly to Michal, “Get out of here, now.”

Michal ran through the back entrance into the servants’ hallways.

Saul shook his head with a spasm of pain. The voice in his ear now tormented him, screaming, “Pin him to the wall! Pin him to the wall! Pin him to the wall! Pin him to the wall!”

He aimed at David and threw with the force of a giant.

David dodged to the floor. The spear stuck in the wall behind him. It sank deep. But David would not pull it out. He would not fight back against Yahweh’s anointed king.

He ran.

Saul bolted for the spear and jerked it out of the wall. He followed the scent of David through the servant hallways. His mind was a cacophony of resounding hatred. “Crush the Seed! Spill his blood! Crush the Seed! Spill his blood!”

David raced through the maze-like hallways of the palace. Saul was close on his heels, but the twisting turns did not allow him a good throw.

David broke out into the dining room of the servants. He slammed the door shut and bolted it. There were a dozen servants eating an afternoon snack at their tables, shocked by David’s loud entrance. He turned to them. “The king is mad again! Get out of here!”

They knew this scenario all too well. They immediately rushed out of the dining room, leaving David alone by the door.

He backed up.

The door shook with supernatural pounding. The hinges loosened on the wall.

David found a window at the other end of the room and stood in front of it.

The door blew open with tremendous force. Saul stepped inside the room with spear in hand. His muscles jerked and spasmed with fury. He looked like a sick puppet in the hands of an evil puppet master.

He eyed David by the window and aimed his spear. David wondered how he could see with his eyes turned up inside his head.

Saul thrust the spear.

David dodged again. He had planned for this. He anticipated that the bright sunlight behind him through the window would make it more difficult for Saul to target him. He also planned for what happened next. The spear careened right through the window where David had been and flew out into the palace yard below.

Saul had lost his weapon.

But he had not lost his rage.

He would tear David apart with his bare hands, even if just to stop the pounding pain in his head. “Strangle the Seed! Strangle the Seed! Strangle the Seed!”

David dashed out of the dining room. He wove his way through the hallways with Saul in hot pursuit again.

David was much faster than his insane pursuer. Saul’s muscles twitched with seizures that slowed him down. His rage was unthinking, beyond his strategy to murder.

David had his own stratagem. He circled back around to his original location: the music room. His only weapon against the king was his music. It was the only thing that turned the evil spirit away. Praises of Yahweh.

But he needed the time to begin to play before he was skewered or strangled.

He had gained enough time. He broke into the music room with a few moments to spare before Saul followed him.

He grabbed his lyre and began to play a song of deliverance.

I will say to the
Lord
, “My refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”

For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler
and from the deadly pestilence.

You will not fear the terror of the night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,

nor Resheph that stalks in darkness,
nor Qeteb that wastes at noonday.

It was a song of deliverance from demons. The “terror by night” was a Mesopotamian title for Zaqar, a dream demon. Resheph was the god of plague and pestilence whose arrows were his curses. Qeteb was Resheph’s companion deity of destruction.

Saul was closing the distance between them as David sang. His murderous eyes began to weaken. His jerking spasms lessened. He slowed down until he was but a few feet away from David.

He stopped when another voice joined David’s. It was Michal. She had hidden in the servants’ hallway and made her way back to the room. Her voice flowed through the air with angelic sweetness and blended with David’s in harmony.

Because you have made the
Lord
your dwelling place
the Most High, who is my refuge

no evil shall be allowed to befall you,
no plague come near your tent.

For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways.

On their hands they will bear you up,
lest you strike your foot against a stone.

You will tread on the lion and the adder;
the young lion and the serpent you will trample underfoot.

Saul had collapsed at David’s feet.

David looked up at Michal. They needed no words. They had worshipped Yahweh together and they had fought the evil spirit together. Their souls were one. She was the only woman in the whole world. He was the only man. Their lips were inexorably drawn toward each other.

They were stopped by the sound of Saul’s voice. “David? Michal?”

They pulled back and turned. Saul sat up and wiped spittle from his beard.

“I have been under the spell again,” Saul said, discouraged.

David said, “Yes, my lord. But the spirit is gone.”

Michal wondered,
Did he see us? Or was he still in his dream state?

“I am so sorry. It is getting worse. I see red. Blood. And mere flashes or...” He stopped with shock. An image came to him. “Did I try to kill you?”

“Yes, my king, you did,” said David sheepishly.

“My daughter as well?”

“I was out of the way, father.”

“Thank Asherah.”

“Thank Yahweh,” corrected David.

Thank Yahweh, he did not see us about to kiss
, thought Michal.

“David, you protected my daughter as you protect me,” said Saul. “Then why do you not ask me for her hand in marriage?”

Michal froze.
He did see us about to kiss. What are we going to do now?

David said, “It is no little thing for your servant to become the king’s son-in-law. I am a poor man of no reputation, my lord.”

“Nonsense. You are the destroyer of Goliath the Philistine. You are a gibborim warrior, a consecrated musician and the captain of my bodyguard. But at least now I know why you turned down my offer of Merab’s hand. You are in love with Michal.”

“Yes, my sovereign. I love her with all my heart and soul.”