Noah Primeval (Chronicles of the Nephilim Book 1)

by Brian Godawa

“Do not be so sure that revenge is a meal that will satisfy your hunger. It is more like a disease that eats away your soul. As the years go on, bitterness turns you into the very thing you detest. You begin a blessed man. But when Elohim takes away that blessing, you begin to believe you deserved it in the first place. You blame him and eventually you end up an old bellyaching ingrate without the ability to appreciate the good in anything. And you realize that you are the reason for your misery. You have become your own enemy.”

“Mustafa!” Salah called to Noah. “Mustafa” meant Chosen One in his tribal dialect. Salah never tired of reminding Noah that he had embraced Enoch’s revelation and believed Noah to be the Chosen Seed who would end the rule of the gods and bring rest to the land—even if Noah himself would not accept it. “It has been too long, old friend,” Salah said as he embraced his visitor.

Salah knew Mount Hermon’s fame as the cosmic mountain where the Watchers had come down from heaven. He knew it was the portal to Sheol, guarded by the underworld gods Ereshkigal and Nergal.

But Nephilim were the spawn of both heaven and earth. They fully inhabited the corporeal flesh, but were animated by an occult spiritual vitality that almost equaled a member of the heavenly assembly.

In some ways Nephilim were stronger than mal’akim, but the mal’akim angels had one significant advantage: They were immortal, Nephilim were not. Nephilim could die. That point gave Uriel some small satisfaction.

“Cherub,” corrected Uriel. “Cherubim is the plural. They are the carriers of the throne chariot of Elohim. They were also guardians of the tree of life and the gates of Eden,” said Uriel.

“They have skin that shines like burnished bronze. They have four sets of wings, and four faces. Usually one face is of a human, one of a lion, one of an eagle, and one of the cherub itself. They are accompanied by the Flames of the Whirling Sword, divine beings that can smite anything that approaches their custody. The sound of a cherub’s wings alone strikes terror into the hearts of its enemies.” It was all so matter-of-fact for Uriel. He lived in the presence of these beings, not to mention the more terrifying presence of Elohim. Salah had pestered Enoch years ago when

“Seraphim are specially appointed Watchers, the reptilian ones, with six wings, that guard the throne of Elohim.”

Salah kept right on moving without a pause. “So the seraphim are like the Serpent of Eden?”

“Yes. But the Serpent of Eden is an unfortunate misnomer. The Nachash is unquestionably serpentine in his character, justifying the legends surrounding him as one of the seraphim who guarded Elohim’s throne. But he was not merely a serpent. His name in another sense meant ‘brazen brightness,’ and like other Watchers, he was a Shining One. His body was like beryl, his face like the appearance of lightning, his eyes like torches of fire, his arms and feet like burnished bronze. The ‘Serpent of Eden’ be...

“But unlike a just prosecutor of crimes, the Nachash was a liar and murderer from the beginning. He was the father of lies, the tempter and deceiver of God’s people. He seeks to use God’s lawfulness against him.” Uriel had a particular bitter memory of the satan’s attempt in the past to sue Elohim in his own court. It was a diabolically brilliant strategy of manipulating legal procedure and technicalities against the Judge himself. But it did not quite work.

It was the war of the Seed of Nachash with the Seed of Havah,

“We call it ‘pitch.’ We create it by a process of distilling bitumen from the ground.” Noah had seen bitumen pits in some areas of Sumer but had not realized it had any practical benefit.

Noah could not believe his ears. This was an answer to one of the problems with his calling. The directions for the

tebah, the box, had included covering it inside and out with “pitch.” Now he understood what that was.

It was the cosmic mountain where the Sons of God, the Watchers, came down from heaven.

On its southernmost base lay the mountain community of Kur, dedicated to Ereshkigal, goddess of the underworld. Her temple, a ziggurat platform, was embedded into the slope of the mountain, with little more than the front face visible to the public.

The mighty giant kings, the Rephaim, had built the temple and city, leaving it an oversized architectural wonder that dwarfed the inhabitants and worshippers...

Priests blew long horns from within secret openings on the ziggurat to summon the people of the region for sacrifice. An unmistakable, deep reverberation penetrated to the very core of the soul and drew the people from leagues around. They came from all the outlying areas of Bashan to participate in the sacrifice. Entire extended families of multiple generations, carrying their torches, created a river of fires pouring into t...

On the chamber ledge sat a huge bronze statue of a seated Ereshkigal with her arms open to receive sacrifice. It loomed over a large fire pit called the tophet or “burning place.”

They could see the ridge just below the altar, lined with a hundred parents and infants in their arms. They could also see the parents scratching the names of their children on the stone walls, to join the thousands that had accumulated over the years.

Uriel leaned in and whispered to Noah, “Inside the mountain temple is the entrance to the Seven Gates of ...

The crowd below began to sway to the beat at first, and then slowly broke down into individual dancing, which further degenerated into erotic jerking spasms and snake-like body waves. It was as if their bodies had been taken over by another force.

The high priestess walked over to the fire pit. High, hot flames leapt out of it, licking the night air. The priestesses led the line of worshippers to the high priestess. The first woman held her infant and began to cry. She reluctantly placed the infant, not two years old, into the hands of the two priestesses. They gave the crying child to the high

priestess. She turned to the flames and held the baby high over her head. The crowd below went silent.

Noah’s eyes stayed locked on the infant held high above the flames. The chanting made him sick to his stomach. A tide of hatred rose within him. He could not let this happen. He grabbed the hilt of his sword. Uriel stopped him. “We cannot stop this, Noah. Remember, these people are not forced. This idolatry is freely chosen.”

He was right, of course. Mankind chose this. They chose to worship these gods and violate the natural order, the natural separation of things, the separation of heaven and earth. Ever since the murder of Abel by his brother Cain, the heart of man grew more and more desperately wicked and their sins grew more unspeakable. Noah’s tribe was among the few groups of true humanity that did not imbibe in such monstrosities.

The drone of the long horns signaled the next sequence of events. Everyone’s attention returned to the high platform. A young girl had been brought to the high priestess by two deformed dwarves and placed on the hands of the large bronze statue. She was laid down and held in place at her head and feet by the two misshapen creatures.

Seconds after he spoke, a loud bellowing sound came from the fiery pit. A flock of bats scattered into the sky.

Out of the flames rose a Watcher, a Shining One like Anu, but with leathery reptilian wings. It burst out of the pit and into the sky like a creature bursting out of water for air. It wore the horned headdress of deity on its elongated head, and like Inanna was androgynous in appearance, though female in dress.

Uriel confided to Noah, “Ereshkigal,...

The multitude around them grew delirious with worship. Ereshkigal landed on the ground and hissed at the people below. They responded with cheers. Her wings spread out in glory as she stood over the child with coldblooded focus. She bared her fangs and feast...

“No,” interrupted Noah, “we cast her into Sheol.”

“She guards the gates of the Abyss to Sheol,” said Noah. “Let us kick her into that crevice and let it keep her.”

Uriel did not calm their fears. “We must be careful not to follow her in,” he said, “The dead who descend never return.” “What of the living?” asked Tubal-cain. Uriel sighed. His hesitation only made matters worse. “The shades of the dead would eat the living,” he answered, punctuating their doom, “eternally.”

Noah whispered to Uriel, “Is this the first of the Seven Gates of Ganzir?” Uriel didn’t reply, all his senses honed on surveying their environment.

The shadows moved from behind the pillars on both sides of them. Strange creatures stepped out into sight, but they did not attack. The men could now see their stalkers. They were scorpion-men. Monstrosities with the upper torsos of human soldiers, and the lower bodies of man-sized scorpions, they were armed with bladed weapons and ready tail stingers.

Noah thought to himself, What more abominable creatures could these Watchers create? What kind of sorcery enabled them to produce such demonic crossbred mongrels like these? The bird-men soldiers, the lion-men and bull-men guardians, the Nephilim as well, all were unnatural violations of the created order. What was the plan of these Watchers?

Suddenly, the huge doors at the end of the portico creaked open. Everyone’s attention shot to two large beings about five and a half cubits tall gliding through the doors. It was Ereshkigal. The second Watcher stayed by the door as Ereshkigal strode toward Noah and Uriel. The shining being kept her wings taut behind her back and stood a safe distance behind the scorpion-men.

Uriel responded, “Ramel, I see you have built quite a kingdom for yourself on earth, along with Sariel.” He glanced at the other Watcher by the door. “I take it he goes by the name Nergal?”

In the mythology the Watchers had established, Nergal was the name of Ereshkigal’s husband. He had become her spouse after he had insulted her for not being able to attend a banquet of the gods.

Anu sent him down to the underworld to receive punishment from Ereshkigal. Nergal turned the tables on the chthonic queen, overpowering her on her own throne. This reputation stained Ramel’s pride and he resented it. But he could do nothing about it for the present. It took a few generations to change a myth. He would have to tolerate the mockery of his humiliation by the other gods. He could ...

An unexpected thought crossed her mind. She turned back to Uriel. “I have word that Semjaza and Azazel seek Elohim’s Chosen Seed. Is this your doing, Uriel?” Her eyes kept trained on Uriel, ignoring Noah.

“Who are Semjaza and Azazel?” “Fallen Sons of God. They led the rebellion. And now, they masquerade as the gods Anu and Inanna.” The men continued to catch their breath.

Tubal-cain jumped in with disgust, “So the goddesses are all males in female disguise?”

“Do not let their pretended sex fool you,” said Uriel. “They are all Sons of God, and Semjaza and Azazel are the mightiest.” “Well,” said Noah, “I guess that...

“Just one,” said Uriel. Noah said, “I thought there were seven gates of Ganzir that we would have to go through.”

“That is the problem with myth, it tends to exaggerate.”

“The bards call it poetic hyperbole,” added Methuselah. “It aids in emphasizing a point. If you prefer, we could re-enter this gate seven times to satisfy your penchant for the grandiose.”

Ereshkigal and Nergal sat upon the thrones. Ereshkigal stopped her mocking applause.