Peleg’s Quarters
© Jeannie St. John Taylor
“And as you have been a byword of cursing . . . so I will save you and you will be a blessing. Fear not, but let your hands be strong.” Zech. 8:13
In a nearly catatonic state, Atarah lowered herself onto a wooden bench in Peleg’s quarters. Poor by city standards, this place was luxurious compared to the one she’d slept in the past few nights. A worn rug adorned the large space in front of the bed and a few pieces of formerly-elegant furniture slumped around the area. The bed, large enough for two people, had been draped with faded dirty fabric. Palatial for the underground. Fit for a king.
And the king himself had dropped the heavy bar on the door into place and turned a key in the metal lock. He now stood before her, looking her up and down, the key dangling from his filthy crooked forefinger.
No escape.
Though she stared straight ahead she could see the man himself a few paces off to the side posing with one foot on a low table, a come-hither gleam in his good eye. With his gaze fixed seductively on her, Peleg’s gray lips curled into a rotted-tooth smirk. “Wine, my dear?” he asked.
She managed a barely-perceptible shake of the head. The man was trying to charm her even as her every breath pulled in the putrid odor emanating from him. Nausea filled her chest and threatened to explode. She could taste blood oozing from her lower lip – yet she couldn’t force herself to stop biting. Her nails had broken the skin of her fisted palms, but she was powerless to unclench.
Without taking his eyes from her, he slowly bent to pick up a pottery jar from the table. He poured wine from a skin, tipped it back and took a deep draught, probably of the same vile wine she had tasted when first arriving in this place. “Sure you don’t want a sip?” His eyes started at her head and traced down to her feet then up again for the hundredth time.
Shame burned her neck and face, but she didn’t move. Didn’t answer. Even though wine might be the only thing that could offer her a measure of relief, she couldn’t afford to anesthetize herself. She had to be alert for Gadreel.
For Gadreel. She had to remember. Her baby. With the Light gone, thoughts of Gadreel would have to keep her going.
Peleg tossed the key on the table and straightened. Grabbing a straight-backed chair he plunked it down on the floor in front of her and straddled it. “Look at me,” he commanded.
The room swam around Atarah. She tried to look at him, but her eyes wouldn’t focus.
“You belong to me now.” The words were clipped. Harsh. He leaned close, now nose to nose with her. She gasped at the stench of his breath and body.
“Think you’re too good for me?” A muscle in his jaw corded tight. He drew back and slammed the flat of his hand across her face. “You’ll learn to like me.” He leaned closer again with a humorless laugh and squeezed her face until she wondered if he might break a bone.
Sudden loud pounding rattled the door behind her. Peleg cursed and kicked his chair away. “Go away,” he roared.
Panicked voices from the other side yelled, “Giant attack!”
Brief minutes later, Atarah sat on the floor chained to a metal ring in the wall of Peleg’s empty quarters. A metal collar like the ones she’d seen worn by slaves in the caravans that visited the City of a Thousand Gods to trade with Father encircled her neck. She carefully stood to see how far she could move. Not far. As soon as she took two steps the collar began cutting off her air supply. Holding the front of the collar with both hands she yanked backward on the chain. She stood no chance of releasing her restraints.
Peleg was taking no chances. She was trapped here until he returned.
Sliding down the wall, she lowered herself to the floor and held her head in her hands. Her mind raced to find a solution. None came. Panic set in and she began to hyperventilate. She fought to push away images of Peleg and the things that would happen to her when Peleg returned. What would happen to her if he didn’t return? Would she die here? Alone? Worse, what was happening to the baby and Shua? She pressed against her temples to clear her thoughts. The technique didn’t work.
“God of Noah, help me,” she whispered.
A key jangled in the lock, the door creaked open slowly and Mahli peeked in. Her eyes scanned the area before she stepped inside and hurried to Atarah and tested her restraints, all business. A badly battered Hoda followed. One entire side of her face was swollen and bruised. She held her ribs as she walked. Atarah had no doubt she was viewing Peleg’s work. He had beaten Hoda and possibly even broken ribs.
“Here, try this one,” Hoda said handing Mahli a key. She sank onto the bed, shut her eyes and pressed both arms into her midsection, looking ill. Scraggly hair drooped across her ashen face. Atarah wondered how the woman managed to look worse than the first time they’d met.
Mahli accepted the key, unlocked Atarah’s neck collar and helped her to her feet. “You okay?”
“He didn’t touch me,” Atarah said.
A pleased smile crossed Mahli’s face. “We have to work quickly.” She strode to the door with Atarah following. Hoda limped along at the rear. The community room sprawled hollow and empty ahead without a person in sight. One bench lay on its side. The open oven had been emptied of bread. Hoda relocked Peleg’s door before bidding them a hasty farewell. The last Atarah saw of Hoda she was hunched over, the key grasped firmly in her hand hobbling toward the opening Atarah and Shua had come through the first day. Someone had already rolled back the stone and left the hole gaping.
Atarah’s heart swelled with pity and gratitude for the old woman. She hesitated, feeling the need to do something for her.
“Come on!” Mahli said impatiently. “There’s no time.” Atarah had to run to keep up with her even though Atarah said little and Mahli once again talked incessantly. She offered hurried instructions as they strode through the community room and down the spidery path leading back to the baby. “Hoda locked the door so Peleg will fuss around for a long time before he figures things out and breaks down the door. When he finds you gone, he’ll know she helped you and go after her first. Hopefully, she’ll have time to hide out until her injuries heal and the giants are gone.”
“Where is everyone else?”
Mahli shrugged. “Either hiding in the labyrinth or fighting giants.”
Intense eagerness to hold the baby again pushed Atarah along. She needed to touch him. She’d tried to memorize the way, but what if she couldn’t remember? Her heart throbbed in her ears. “I’m not certain I remember the way back to Gadreel.”
“I’ll show you the way to him and then I’m going to find Hoda. She and I may have a chance to survive this if we stay together. This is an opportunity for us. The first chance we’ve ever had to escape. If we can evade Peleg after the giants leave, we may be able to leave here for good.” Her lips skewed into an off-center smile. “Or maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t return.”
Mahli pointed down a flight of stairs. “Go that way, then turn right and you’re there. As soon as you pick up the baby and your friend, head in the direction of the waterfall, but keep going. You’ll find another exit or two if you don’t turn toward the interior of the mountain.”
“I remember the rest of the way.” Atarah enfolded her in a fervent hug. “Thank you.” The words were inadequate for the gratitude that nearly overwhelmed her. Mahli smiled and they separated. Moments later Atarah hurried down through the larger area leading to her room and burst through the door.
Shua sat on the bed alone and pale. She looked at Atarah with a stricken expression. “Tirza took him.”
The words struck Atarah like a blow to the gut. Panic pumped through her. “Where did she take him?”
“He’s a baby giant.”
“I know what he is!” Atarah shouted. “Where is he?”
“Tirza,” Shua sobbed.
Panic changed to fury and Atarah yelled at the slave. “Pull yourself together!” She dug rough fingers into Shua’s arm and dragged her toward the door. The Dream had warned her. But what could she have done any differently? “Show me.” There was no time to be nice. “Which direction?”
Shua pointed. The waterfall. Atarah started running. She hadn’t gone far when the slave caught up, calmer now. “Slow down,” she panted. “So you can do what you have to when we get there.”
Atarah slowed to a trot, sucking in deep gasping breaths. She wasn’t certain if she was more out of breath from the exercise or from fear or anger. Or from panic. A thousand emotions banged around her head like drums at a festival.
“Sorry I . . .,” Shua offered. “I’m just scared.”
“It’s okay.” Atarah hoped Shua was prepared to fight with her when they found the baby, but she worried. She had noticed Shua showing less affection to the baby of late. And Atarah was stunned Shua had let Tirza carry him off without protest. Was the slave repulsed by him because of the giants who killed her family? Was she identifying Gadreel with those gruesome beasts? Gadreel would never become one of them. Never.
At the muffled din of battle Atarah picked up the pace. She had to decide immediately if she could still trust Shua. No, no, stop thinking like that! Tirza had most likely brought a dozen men with her to take Gadreel. Shua would have been helpless against them. Maybe she had screamed and fought and been unable to fight them off. “How many men?”
“Huh?”
“With Tirza?”
“Oh.”
“How many?” Atarah could hear tension in both of their voices.
“She came alone.”
Anger charged up Atarah’s spine. “Why didn’t you . . . ?” She cut off mid-sentence, stuffed the emotion and evened out her facial expression. The only visible sign of anger showed in a stiffening of her spine which Shua probably didn’t notice. In the city Atarah could have punished the slave for such betrayal. Over the past days in the labyrinth she would have openly voiced displeasure. But with their altered circumstances, if the slave could no longer be trusted Atarah dare not reveal her thoughts. She could only keep up her guard and hope she’d misjudged her slave. And she may have.
She seemed to get everything wrong these days. Yesterday she was convinced Hoda could not be trusted and Shua could. Now she felt confused about both women. She had once foolishly, if briefly, hoped Noah could be a good man, but Mahli reinforced the disappointing truth about him again. The man intended evil, just as everyone in the city claimed all along.
Strange the way facts twisted and changed colors like birch leaves in the wind. She had no wisdom to discern truth from falsehood.
“Did Tirza say what she planned to do with Gadreel?” She mentally chided herself for not asking that question sooner.
“Tirza said giants can’t reproduce because they are the progeny of Nephilim and human women -- two different species. Kind of like horses and donkeys producing mules. Mules can’t reproduce; giants can’t reproduce.”
Impatience surfaced in Atarah’s tone. “What does that have to do with Gadreel?”
“Tirza said giants will bargain to get a baby giant.” Shua spoke wearily, without inflection. “Gadreel is Tirza’s gold.”
The information stabbed into Atarah’s gut and shivered down her arms and legs, raising gooseflesh. At the same time, the last turn to the waterfall cave appeared directly in front of them. Atarah crept forward and peered around a boulder, steadying herself by holding onto its cold edge. She prayed the darkness at the back of the cave would hide her. The sight ahead startled her.
Instead of the clash of weapons she’d expected, Peleg stood as a silhouette on a tall flat rock near the center of the cave. The veil of water with light filtering through it thundered at his back. Men and women of the underground, armed with clubs and bows, grouped apprehensively around the rock, well away from the water. No torches lit the recesses of the cave. Atarah couldn’t make out features in the dim light even though she was close enough to reach out and touch one woman. Focused on Peleg the woman didn’t notice Atarah. The people spoke in grumbling murmurs while the invisible battle raged somewhere beyond the waterfall.
The city. Giants were attacking the city.
An image of Mother’s face wavered in Atarah’s mind like a reflection in turbid water. Fear and grief washed over her and she pressed a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. She searched the crowd for Tirza and Gadreel. Where were they?
The number in Peleg’s group appeared significantly smaller than Atarah remembered. When she tried to add together the people she’d seen in the community’s main room with the others she seen working throughout the complex, she realized many had seized the opportunity to flee Peleg. Just as Mahli predicted.
One man who appeared poised to scale the rock boldly questioned Peleg. “Are we going to just stand here doing nothing?” Mutiny crouched in the group ready to strike. Rebellion flowed in a nearly palpable undercurrent.
“Doing nothing?” Peleg shouted them down. “My daughter . . .” He waited for them to quiet. “My daughter is risking her life to trade the giant baby for your freedom. Right now!”
Panic once again skittered down Atarah’s spine. She had to find the woman. Her eyes rapidly scanned the curtain of water. Nothing. Tirza already had Gadreel outside? Where?
“Where?” asked the man functioning as spokesman for the group.
“In another location.”
“Why isn’t she talking to them right out there?” He pointed to the waterfall. “So we know you’re telling us the truth.”
Peleg exploded with a curse. “Did you want her to waltz out from behind the waterfall and show the giants where we are?”
That answer pacified the man only for a moment. “What if they take the baby from her and then come here for us?” The group growled in assent.
Atarah could hear her own breathing and feel her heart bumping. Shua’s restraining hand touched her from behind and she nodded at the slave. Though everything in Atarah wanted to rush off, she knew if she hoped to rescue Gadreel in time she had to wait for more information.
“I don’t expect them to find us. But if they do, we’re in the best place possible. If they come here, we can see them against the light. They can’t see us until their eyes adjust to the dark. Before then we’ll pepper them with arrows and flee into the tunnels where they can’t come.”
The spokesman climbed the rock and fisted Peleg’s tunic at the throat. “Tell us where she is. Exactly.”
Peleg wilted. “Directly below here, two levels down at a fresh air opening.”
Atarah and Shua were already running.
