Naamah backed away, her whole body shaking. “No. I am a woman. I carry no seed but what my father has passed on to me.”
Noah’s eyes flashed, and he pushed his hand through his white hair. “How can this be? Only a demon or a Naphil can pass on such a seed, and Canaan was born eleven months after the flood began, so Ham must be the father.”
Stepping slowly backwards, Naamah gave him a quick bow. “Then by your leave, Father Noah, if you are convinced that my son is of the devil, I will go now and cast both of our bodies into the sea. Far be it from your servants to bring corruption back into our new world.”
“No!” Noah gestured toward his sons. Each of them laid a hand on one of Naamah’s shoulders, stopping her. “The boy must live,” Noah continued. “You have spoken truly about his fate as a servant. He is cursed, and he will be a servant to Shem and Japheth.” He pointed outside. “Naamah, you must leave us. Take whatever you need for travel and sustenance, and may God have mercy on both of you.”
Shem and Japheth released her. Naamah glared at both of them, clutched the baby more tightly to her breast, and backed out through the tent flap.
Shem jerked the flap closed. “She is a deceiver.”
Noah sighed, nodding slowly. “I know. Yet, God will use even her to glorify his name. From the harvest of Canaan’s crop will come a great evil, but the soil for his seed will carry another seed the gardeners do not expect. The crop God raises up will be as tares to the enemy’s wheat, one that sets the entire field ablaze.”
“A prophecy, Father?” Shem asked.
“Yes, Son.” Noah lifted his gaze upward. “A prophecy . . . and a promise.”
Chapter 6
Underborns
Mara held open the bottom of the scroll with her elbow and ran her finger along a line of text. The light from her lantern flickered across the page. She squinted in the dim glow, nearly swallowed by the shadows of the stony cavern, yet bright enough to read Mardon’s handwriting. The story filled her with wonder dragons, elephants, monkeys, and hundreds of other wonderful creatures all loaded on an amazing floating vessel long before she was born. She rubbed her hand along a sketch of a dragon, admiring the image of a world she had never known. What she wouldn’t give to have been there!
She glanced at the hourglass perched on her worktable next to her elbow. Only a few grains of sand remained at the top. As she rolled up the scroll with its heavy wooden dowel, pain throbbed in her stiff shoulder. She grimaced at the ache. The soreness was worse than usual, but no surprise, considering all the digging she had been doing.
She hugged the scroll to her chest and closed her eyes. As a tear trickled down her cheek, she wagged her head back and forth, trying to chase the beautiful images out of her mind. Seeing all those wonders was just a dream. There was no way an insignificant slave girl could ever hope to visit such a paradise, much less live there, so she might as well get back to reality, the reality of hard work, sweat, darkness, and pain.
Breathing a big sigh, she opened her eyes and admired the tall, arching alcove she had excavated in a massive wall, her rocky workplace for the past several days. Although it was fairly shallow, only about as deep as the fireplace cavities up in Shinar that she had read about, it still had taken a long time to chisel out.
She knelt at the ankle-high hearth at the base of her alcove and pulled out three loose bricks, making a low, wide cubbyhole, perfect for hiding away the scroll for a while. As she pushed the scroll inside, a clicking noise made her swing her head around. She gazed into the dimness that shrouded the massive chamber. It was probably just one of the timid rock mice that sometimes skittered through the air vents. Then again, maybe it was Mardon coming to inspect her work.
While giving her shoulder a one-handed massage, she slid a lever embedded near the bottom of the hearth, opening the magnetic field. A chorus of low hums sounded from the wall, each with a slightly different pitch that slowly rose in volume.
Taking a step back, she surveyed the bricks that lined the border of the alcove. The magneto brick at the top of the arch glowed green, just as it should. The three on the left glowed blue, indigo, and violet, while yellow and orange emanated from two of the bricks on the right. A third one remained dark.
Mara wrinkled her nose. What was wrong with the red one? The magneto should have energized by now. She leaped onto the hearth and pushed on the end of the malfunctioning brick, budging it just enough to align it with the side of the alcove. It pulsed red, then glowed steadily, adding its hum to the chorus. She brushed her hands together and smiled. Finally! The last magnet was working!
Stepping inside the alcove, she pressed her back against the rear wall. When she reached forward, her hands didn’t quite pass the point where the wall was before she chiseled it away. Stretching her arms to the sides, she could barely touch the magnetized bricks with her fingertips. Finally, she reached as high as she could, but the arch was still more than twice her body’s length over her head. It was perfect.
She skipped out of the alcove, jumped off the hearth, and spun around, crossing her arms as she admired her creation again. The lantern on her worktable flashed and beamed a strong yellow light that painted her shadow on the recessed wall. Shallow as it was, the grotto had taken eleven days to excavate, even with the sharpened chisel Mardon had given her, but now it was finally ready for her spawn.
As Mara retied the sash on her smock, she noticed a tiny pebble sliding toward one of the magnets. She slapped her forehead. She still had to check the balance! Reaching under her smock, she pulled a glass vial from her dress pocket and held it close to the light. She shook it, loosening the iron filings that had settled at the bottom. After setting the vial inside and at the center of the alcove, she scanned the seven magnets in turn. Each metallic brick seemed to aim its end directly at her iron filings.
Kneeling on the hearth, she peered into the vial. The filings began to dance, arranging themselves into a perfectly symmetrical crystal with tiny black diamonds sketched throughout.
Mara laughed. “I wonder if they’re always that pretty.” An echo repeated her words, ending with a quiet, “pretty . . . pretty . . . pretty.” She glanced around the empty cavern, her gaze finally landing on the dark passageway that led out of her work area. Not a soul in sight. The voice was just a cruel joke bouncing off mindless walls through a heartless underground world. She wiped her dirty hands on her even dirtier smock. Of course no one in the hidden realms would ever consider her pretty.
She untied her smock and sighed. Getting banished to the growth lab was bad enough, but having to do everything alone was the worst. Sure, mining in the trenches was hard, but at least she could talk to the other girls there. Even the boy laborers on the brick level had each other . . . or so she had heard.
She shut off the magnets’ lever, silencing the hum, snatched up her vial, and dropped it back into her pocket. After picking up her lantern, she sauntered toward the passageway. Time to venture to the seedling room and get the newest nursling. Maybe Naamah would be in a good mood today and tell her a story about the great giants of old.
As her bare feet padded on the warm, stony floor, she stuffed her hair back up into her coif and retied it over her head. Mardon wouldn’t like it if he knew her hair had fallen loose while excavating, and even though her work was finished, it still wasn’t a good time to take it off. The river lay just ahead.
The tunnel slowly brightened, and as she passed by a stone-framed window in the wall, she winced at the light pouring from it and pulled down the coif’s attached veil. Although she could see through the material well enough to walk, it protected her eyes from the terror that lay beyond the window. She had seen the river of magma at the bottom of the chasm once before, and the image would never leave her mind a bubbling and churning flow crawling toward who-knows-where. She shuddered as she passed by, nearly in tears at the thought of the underborns who had perished in the fiery stream. When she cleared the window’s glow, she j
erked off her coif, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her pocket.
As she continued, the tunnel darkened again, and her lantern’s flame burned green. The familiar sounds of this darkest portion crept into her ears a chorus of squeaks from bats hiding somewhere in the recesses of the tunnel; cascading water from the stream falling into Lucifer’s Pool; the tiny splashes of minnows in their never-ending pursuit of larvae; the incessant pounding of a chisel in the hands of a faraway laborer, probably one of the girls desperately trying to get her magnetite quota from the trenches; and finally . . . yes, there it was, the pleasant warble of Naamah’s song.
Mara peeked into the seedling room. A trio of lanterns hung from the high reaches of the cavern, casting a blend of yellow light and crisscrossing shadows. Mara hid her own lantern behind her back. Naamah’s singing meant she was probably in a good mood, but Mara didn’t want to take any chances. Better to wait a few minutes and watch for signs of bad temper.
Her mistress raised a watering can over a tiny potted plant. As always, she crooned in a haunting contralto.
To grow and live, escape the flames
Of darkest nights and endless toil,
O stretch and thrive my precious flower
And drink the rain from fertile soil.
As she sprinkled the plant, it stretched out two stalks at its sides, like a man waking after a long nap. A thumb-sized pod between the two stalks turned its face toward her, two eyelets blinking as drops streamed down its green skin.
Naamah smiled and continued her song, cooing at the pod as a mother would to a baby.
A day will come, my little child,
When roots transform to warrior’s feet
And stalks become tight fists of steel
To grind all men like sifted wheat.
Mara walked in, but a new shadow from the far side of the cavern glided into view. Morgan! Mara stopped and clenched her teeth. What now? She couldn’t run back to the passageway. Morgan would notice for sure. She froze in place and listened.
Morgan stepped into the light and applauded. “The echo compliments your voice, Naamah. It’s more beautiful than ever.”
Naamah spread out her black dress and curtsied. “The male plants seem especially fond of my singing.” She chucked the pod under its tiny chin. “This one is my favorite.”
“Actually, the females are more important right now.” Morgan waved her arm toward Mara. “The most impetuous of the girls seems smarter and more talented than any males in the land above, though she can be treacherous enough to betray even a twin sister.”
Mara balled her hands into fists. She wanted to stomp her foot and shout a defense, but that would just prove Morgan’s “impetuous” comment. She breathed deeply and buried the insult in the pit of her stomach along with all the others. Still, heat rose past her cheeks and inflamed her ears. She hoped Morgan wouldn’t notice.
Morgan glared at Mara. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I . . .” Mara swallowed and took a tentative step forward. “I’ve come for a new spawn. My growth chamber is ready.”
Morgan raised her eyebrows. “Has Mardon checked the magnets?”
“He taught me how.” Mara withdrew her vial and held it up. “The magnets are perfect.”
Morgan’s frown slackened, but her brow stayed taut. “Very well.” She turned to Naamah. “Is number four of suitable size?”
“Yes.” Naamah pointed at a plant near the passageway, close to where Mara stood. “It’s almost too big for the pot already.”
Morgan nodded at the plant. “Get it and be on your way. I’ll be by to check its growth soon enough. Your chamber had better be perfectly balanced, or you’ll take the next step past banishment.”
Mara tried not to flinch, but she couldn’t help it. She knew what that meant. As she thought of the terror in Acacia’s face, her lantern flickered weakly, as if sympathizing with her pain. She gathered the pot in one arm and hustled back into the passage, but her lantern winked out, leaving her in darkness except for the light from the seedling room behind her. Mara halted. Could she go all the way through the dark part of the tunnel without a light? Would the bats notice her? She turned back and leaned against the wall, peering at Morgan and Naamah. She didn’t want to ask for light, not while Morgan was still around. Maybe she would leave soon through the other tunnel, then Naamah might help her. Naamah was always the more patient of the two, though that wasn’t saying much.
Mara breathed a quiet sigh and set her lantern on the floor. Being banished had one advantage. Nabal wouldn’t be waiting with a whip. In fact, no one would notice her absence until bed check. She could just watch and listen, and maybe learn more about the land above.
Morgan crossed her arms over her chest. “As I was about to say, the females will never be giantesses; at least according to Mardon’s genetic analysis. But we need more laborers than Nephilim candidates right now. Once the hive is complete with thriving giants, we’ll keep a few of the strongest and stupidest females for laborers, then throw the rest in the chasm.”
Mara gulped. She probably wasn’t supposed to hear that. Who would be chosen to live? She rubbed a finger along her toned bicep. She was strong, but not the strongest of the female laborers, and far from stupid. Crouching low, she hugged her plant close.
Naamah carried her pot to a dimly lit wall and set it on the end of a shelf of identical pots. Each one held a human-like seedling, some barely poking up from the soil and others as tall as the breadth of her hand. She turned the pot so the plant could see her. “I began to wonder what happened to you, Sister. You’ve been gone for weeks.”
“Months, actually. Time shifts in strange ways between the upper and lower worlds. I’m beginning to think time is slowing down here, since the older spawns have slowed their aging.”
“Did you bring more produce?” Naamah asked. “We ran out of fruit days ago.”
“It’s in the pantry. Nimrod’s farms are producing well.”
Naamah dipped her finger into the potting soil, then pulled it out, examining the mud on the tip. “Is there any other news from above?”
“Yes. It seems that Mardon has a solution to why our hybrids aren’t thriving.”
“They need more light, don’t they?” Naamah wiped the mud on a cloth hanging on the shelf. “I always said that plants should be out in the sun where they ”
“No,” Morgan interrupted. “Almost the opposite. It seems that the flood did more than simply snuff out innocent lives and scrub the planet. All light is harsher now, brighter than before, so the seeds I took from Samyaza are too pure, even when we dilute them with Canaan’s genes. They make a plant that grows poorly when exposed to any kind of light, even lantern light and magneto radiance down here.”
“How can Mardon fix a problem like that? Even he isn’t smart enough.”
“You might be surprised. Mardon and his scientists are confident they can do anything. Right now they’re working on a tower that already reaches past the clouds.”
Naamah’s eyebrows shot up. “Past the clouds?! May I go above and see it?”
“Only if you go after dark and in your winged form.” Morgan looked up at the cavern’s high ceiling. “There’s a full moon tonight, so you should be able to see the tower.”
“Even if I can’t, being a bat for a while is better than being stuck in this cave.”
“Patience. Just a few more weeks. One of the craftsmen is building a home for us on the surface. It still has to be in this dimension, but at least you’ll be able to go there whenever you wish.”
“Not as a bat?” Naamah asked.
“As long as you’re in the circles of seven, you can be yourself.”
“Good.” Naamah fanned her face with her hand. “The air down here gets stuffy, and flying makes me tired.”
“Don’t worry. The house will be on a lovely island, and I planted apple trees and gardenias all around. Soon the air on our island will be satura
ted with the scents of wisdom and life.”
“Will we have any company up there?” Naamah asked.
“The circles are filling with the souls of humans who wander in the land of the dead, but the serpents I put in the waters around the island will protect us from their interference.” Morgan caressed Naamah’s delicate arm. “Still, we have a boat, and you will be free to stalk the shores and sing a victim into your clutches whenever you wish.”
“Perfect. I’ve been practicing a song just for that purpose.” Naamah smiled, and for a brief second, a pair of fangs appeared over her bottom lip.
Mara nearly fell backwards. What kind of creature was Naamah, anyway?
“If you keep your mind on your work,” Morgan said, “I won’t care how many men you capture. Just remember to collect what we need from them.”
Naamah twirled her dress. “Have you begun to doubt my charms, Sister?”
“Not your charms, just your prudence. Our mission is more important than fun. Canaan has aged more quickly than I expected, so he’s already useless.”
“We have the hybrid embryos in the vault. We could always use their genes.”
Morgan propped up one of the wilting plants. “The hybrids are stronger than the purebreds, but not strong enough. We have to keep experimenting until we get the right combination for survival in the world’s new environment.”
“What about your other plan?” Naamah asked. “Any luck finding homes for the spirits?”
“Perhaps. The dragons have birthed several younglings in quick succession. The spirits have repeatedly visited the eldest son at night, and he believes he is merely dreaming. He is already showing signs of giving in to the songs.”
“You decided to use dragons as hosts, after all? I thought you decided you wanted them dead.”
“I do, but I have no way to kill them . . . yet.” Morgan plucked a wrinkled leaf from one of the plants, making its little green face wince. “Still, if my plan works, we will eliminate every dragon, release the Watchers from the abyss so they can live in a dragon-free land, and have an army of Nephilim to conquer the world.”