Chapter 31

Land of Eden — Noah’s 595th year

“This is beginning to look familiar,” Noah said as he surveyed the various trees surrounding them.

“Not to me,” Ham said. “I don’t remember being here.”

“I don’t either, but notice the types of plants that grow here.” Noah swept his arm in an arc. “They’re the same as the ones near our home. Also, based on my calculations last night, we must be getting close — just a little farther north.” Normally, Shem helped Noah make the calculations, but he still had not spoken since the bridge.

“I don’t recognize it either.” Ar’yel rubbed her arms as if she were cold. “My people never enter the forbidden land.”

Noah quirked an eyebrow. She had spoken only a little more than Shem since midmorning, which he found quite odd since she had been extremely talkative after they had left the waterfall cave the previous day. “The forbidden land?”

“Yes. Once we left the needle tree forest, we were no longer in Bak’hana’s realm. My people say this land is forbidden. I did not realize this was the place you meant when you spoke of Eden.”

“So even if they could track us, we should no longer worry that they’ll follow us?”

She shook her head.

He breathed deeply, unaware until this moment the weight of tension he had borne while constantly looking over his shoulder for a surprise attack.

Noah wondered if their refusal to enter the land had something to do with the old rumors about Eden. “Is there another reason they do not come here?”

“What do you mean?” Ar’yel asked.

“Besides the land being outside of Bak’hana’s realm? I mean, who decided where his realm ends and another one begins?”

“I don’t know. I only know that my people believe they’ll die if they come here.”

Noah nodded slowly. “And that’s why you’ve been so quiet. Well, we’ve been living near here — at least I think it’s near here — for 95 years.”

She smiled and seemed to relax a little.

They walked in silence for a long while. Eventually, they stopped in a small clearing and sat down to eat some of the fruit they had picked from the orchard near the waterfall, along with some wild berries they had found along the way.

Instead of sitting away from the group as he had done since Elam’s death, Shem joined them. He broke open a seed fruit and pulled some of the juicy red kernels out, then offered it without a word to Ar’yel, who sat to his left.

She took the fruit and smiled. “Thank you, Shem.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

Noah swallowed a bite. “It’s good to hear your voice again, Son.”

Shem sighed. “Why did he say that, Father?”

Perplexed, Noah looked askance at Shem. “Why did who say what?”

“Elam. On the bridge when he took the torch, he told me that he could finally repay his debt to you.”

Noah shrugged. “He didn’t owe me any—”

“Could he have been talking about the time you rescued him from kidnappers? He told me that story many years ago when I asked what happened to his arm.”

“Hmm. I suppose he might have thought that.” Noah’s eyes welled up as he remembered Elam’s final moments. “I never looked at it that way. He was a good friend, and I only did what I hope any of us would do in that situation. Besides, I wasn’t alone. Rayneh’s uncle, Aterre, helped me, and so did Elam’s father and several other men from their village.”

“That must be what he meant.” Shem stared at the ground. “I’m going to miss him so much.”

“Shem, the greatest act of love a person can show is to give his life for another.” Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Elam did that for us. As much as it hurts to lose him, we should honor his sacrifice.”

“I know.” Shem glanced at each of them. “I’m sorry . . . for the way I’ve been acting.” He faced Ar’yel. “I’ve been blaming you for my friend’s death, even though I know you were willing to give your life to save ours — four people you’d never met before. I’m truly sorry. Will you forgive me?”

She tilted her head. “Thank you for such kind words, but I don’t know how to answer your question. Forgive — what does it mean?”

“Forgive?” Shem drew back, his eyes wide. “If someone has done something wrong to you or if they owe you something, you can choose to forgive them. It means that you don’t count that wrong or that debt against them anymore.” Shem looked at Noah. “How would you define it?”

“You did just fine, but perhaps an example would make it clearer.” Noah looked at Ar’yel but pointed to Ham. “When my sons were younger, Ham took something that belonged to Shem, a small toy that my wife had made for him.”

“What?” Ham asked. “How do you know about that?”

“You’d be surprised how much your mother and I know.” Noah grinned. “Shem knew he took it, but Ham denied it. One day, Ham accidentally broke the toy, so he buried it in the ground, hoping no one would find out. Shem knew what he had done, but he never held it against Ham — he forgave him — and he continued to love him as his brother.”

“I understand.” A small dimple formed in her cheek as she smiled at Shem. “Yes, I will forgive you.”

“Thank you.” Shem stood and removed his wrap from his shoulder. He ran his fingers along its edge until he located a slight rip in the cloth. He gripped the fabric on both sides of the damaged section and pulled hard, tearing the wrap in half.

Shem held it out to Ar’yel. “I tried to clean it in the water, but it’s still stained. It’s not much but it should keep you warm.”

“That’s so kind.” She took it and draped it over her shoulders. “Won’t you be cold now?”

He shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

Upon finishing their brief meal, they headed north. Ham and Noah discussed details about the ark’s ventilation system. Shem and Ar’yel followed them as she peppered him with sincere questions about the Creator and their beliefs. By midafternoon they reached a field filled with long grasses.

Noah scanned the large meadow and froze when he spotted something far in the distance above the trees. A huge smile spread on his face. “There it is!”

The others stopped and looked where he pointed. “There what is?” Shem asked.

Ham spun and faced his brother, his eyes full of excitement. “The ark!”

Shem squinted for a moment and then laughed. “We’re almost home.”

“What’s an ark?” Ar’yel asked.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Shem gestured for her to start walking. “Let’s go. We should be able to make it before it gets dark.”

A pair of birds shot out of the tall grass to their right, causing Noah to jump a little, much to the delight of his sons.

“Father is scared of two birds.” Ham snickered.

Shem elbowed him. “And they were little birds.”

Slightly embarrassed, Noah shook his head, trying to think of something witty to say.

Suddenly, the tall grass to their right parted as a furry creature leapt through the air toward them. Ham instinctively raised his right arm to protect his face as the animal slammed into him. He cried out and tumbled to the ground, the beast rolling over him to land just beyond.

Noah caught a glimpse of the powerful creature no bigger than a large bleater and recognized it as a pithoct, the two large fangs extending from its upper jaw making it easy to identify. In a heartbeat, the creature spun around and lunged for Ham again.

Just before the pithoct landed on Ham, Shem swung the solid branch he had been using as a staff and cracked the beast on the side of the head, causing it to land short of Ham. It snarled at Shem, but Shem wasted no time in striking at it again. This time it dodged his blow.

Ar’yel shouted and whipped a rock at the animal, smacking it in the side. Keeping an eye on the beast, she searched the ground for another object to throw.

Noah raced to stand over Ham, holding out his own makeshift staff toward the pithoct.

Glaring at Shem with its cold golden eyes, the creature slowly stepped toward him.

Noah found his opportunity. A quick thrust of his staff found its mark in the monster’s midsection.

Angered, the pithoct shifted its focus to him. Shem instantly landed a crushing blow on top of the beast’s head. It whimpered and crumpled to the ground for a moment before snarling and running off.

Noah knelt at Ham’s side. Blood streamed from a long gash under his right eye. “Where else are you hurt?”

Ham moaned as his left hand reached over to grab the back of his right arm. “My arm burns.” He pulled his hand back and looked at it. For a moment, he looked as though he might faint when he saw the blood.

Ar’yel dropped to her knees on Ham’s right side. “We need to stop this bleeding right away.” She pulled her newly acquired garment from her shoulders and tossed it to Shem. “Tear two long strips from that and then find me a strong stick — no longer than your arm.”

Shem quickly tore the cloth and handed the strips to Ar’yel before scanning the ground for a stick.

Ham winced as she lifted his injured arm and briefly examined it. “What are you doing?”

“Can you turn to your side?”

With Noah’s assistance, Ham rolled on his left side.

Ar’yel slid one end of the cloth under his arm and then pulled it until the two ends lined up. As she tied an overhand knot and pulled it tight, she said, “You have a very deep cut. If we don’t stop the bleeding now, you may lose your arm or worse.”

“Why are you tying a knot above the wound?” Ham asked.

“Trust me,” she said.

“Got one.” Shem hurried to Ar’yel and handed her the stick.

“That should work.” She placed it on top of the knot. “Shem, hold this steady.”

He reached across her and held the wooden piece in place.

Calm and confident, Ar’yel formed another overhand knot above the stick and tightened it. She brushed Ham’s hair from his eyes and stroked his forehead once. “This might hurt for a few moments. Tell me if it gets too tight.”

He nodded.

Using both hands, she slowly twisted the wood. “Shem, tear that other strip in half. Give one half to your father to hold against the cut on Ham’s face.”

Shem followed her instructions as she continued turning the stick.

“Ow!” Ham grunted. “Too tight.”

She stopped as she studied his injury. “I’m sorry. Just a little tighter.”

He clenched his teeth and nodded as Noah folded the cloth from Shem and gently pushed it against Ham’s cheek.

Ar’yel gave the stick another quarter turn and then pointed to the cut. “Wrap the other one around it. Not too tight.”

Once Shem finished tying the cloth, she directed him to keep the wood from unwinding. Standing up, she wiped her hands on her outfit. “The knot is keeping the blood from rushing to his arm. We can gradually loosen it as long as it doesn’t start bleeding too much.”

“Ham, can you stand?” Noah asked.

“I think so.” He sat up slowly and then reached for the side of his chest and grimaced. “That thing hit me hard. It really hurts.” Planting his left hand on the ground, he carefully climbed to his feet.

“This will only stop the bleeding.” Ar’yel pointed to the bandage. “The wounds still need to be treated by a skilled healer or they’ll become infected.”

“I understand,” Ham said.

Noah placed a hand on Ham’s shoulder. “Kezia will know what to do. We’ll go as fast as you can manage. Do you need any help?”

He shook his head. “Not right now. Let’s move.”