The Descent of the Gods

Warrior

Even from this distance, Enoch could easily recognize the distinctive Cainite mark painted on their shields. The horseman leading them had painted his own face with the mark of Cain. Fitting as his full name honored his ancestor - Tubal Cain.

Behind the horses came wagons, partially full with bags and baskets of grains, vegetables and fruits. But the last wagon was the largest and completely sided, with only small windows to see in or out. Enoch knew that inside this wagon were captives from other villages who could not pay their tribute - slaves for Cain.

Enoch could see a face pressed up against the bars - a girl probably around his own age - Maori. Where she came from no longer mattered, only the fate that awaited her where she was going. History does not remember her, but perhaps it should.

Tubal reigned in his horse, his men riding throughout the huts and surrounding forest, checking for any sign of an ambush. As the Sethites in the fields reluctantly made their way toward the village, the Cainite horsemen herded them along faster.

"Quick, your tribute! We're late returning to Nod," Tubal shouted. Enoch's neighbors shared desperate glances.

"But we did not expect you to return for another month at least!" A village exclaimed. "We hardly have enough for our own..."

"Bring what you have," Tubal shouted, pointing to the wagon full of captives behind him. "Or your children can pay your tribute with their own bodies." Tubal's comrades pulled their bronze swords to drive home the threat.

Left without any choice but to comply, the Sethites dispersed to their homes and fields to gather what they could from their food stores. Tubal watched them carefully as they returned with baskets of food - breads, raw grain, vegetables, some fruit. Consumption of meat was an unknown concept to the peoples of this era. Their legends held that when everything was perfect in the Garden, all creatures lived in perfect harmony with each other and ate only the plants and food that God let spring from the ground. No blood was shed and no creature was consumed by another.

But when death entered the world, not all animals retained the same form and qualities they had been created with. The natural world fractured, and over the years that followed, mankind witnessed God's creatures become the hunter and the hunted. It didn't happen all at once, but slowly as the decades and centuries progressed. It was the age when earth's greatest predators lived, but man still held to the traditional food he had been given in the Garden. Even they who denied the truth of the stories of Eden.

Enoch entered his hut. Besides the spartan furniture made of roughly cut timber, only one decoration could be seen - a carving of a woman's face from a block of wood. Crudely done, it still somehow captured the essence of a mother's loving look.

A few baskets of grain and food lay on their table. Enoch grabbed all of them. When he exited the hut, he bent down to pick up the basket of rice cakes that had been left for them. As he did, his father grabbed his arm with a withered old hand, holding him back. Jared's eyes, full of fear before, were now full of fire and rage. Rage that his collapsed body could only express with his eyes anymore.

"Father, let go!" Enoch muttered under his breath. He glanced back to see Tubal eyeing him.

"Haven't we suffered enough, father?" Enoch pleaded. "I won't let it happen again, even if we must scour the forest for food. Let's give them what they want and they'll be gone." Jared's look of rage faded. His hand fell.

Enoch was the last in the village to empty his baskets into the wagons. He remained for just a short moment, amazed at the sight in front of him - heaping mounds of food.

"It looks like a lot," Tubal's voice made him jump. "But this isn't even enough to keep Nod's beggars fed for a day." Enoch began to walk away. Tubal stepped in his path and pointed to the sheep penned up behind Enoch's hut.

"Cainites don't keep sheep, never have. Where is your tribute of wool?" Tubal demanded.

"We don't shear them," Enoch responded and tried to move on.

"Then why do you keep them?" Tubal pressed. Enoch did not respond.

"Answer me!" Tubal shouted.

"To sacrifice to God, as he commanded all men from the beginning," a calm but firm voice said. Tubal looked around to come face to face with the speaker. He was a very old man, older than most men in the world.

"Who are you?" Tubal asked.

"My name is Seth. I'm the patriarch of this tribe," the old man replied.

"Sacrifices are forbidden. You may honor Cain only," Tubal hissed.

"Young man, Cain may take our food, our children, even our lives," Seth said gently. "But he has no power over our minds and hearts. He cannot take our faith."

"Is that so?" Tubal asked. With a smirk, Tubal lifted his shield high above his head, turning it so that the mark of Cain faced the gathered Sethites. He pointed to the mark.

"Who is your lord?" He shouted at them. "Who is your master?" For just a moment, the Sethites did not move a muscle, as if the momentary resistance somehow could make up for what they did next. They knelt before the raised shield, leaving only Seth standing in their midst and Enoch beside him.

Tubal's eyes locked onto Enoch's. Tubal raised his free hand and pointed at Jared.

"Is he worth it boy?" Tubal asked. Tubal's comrades moved toward Jared, swords drawn. So that was the choice.

Enoch knelt. As his knees touched the soil, the Cainites stopped their advance toward his father and began moving towards Seth instead. Enoch ached inside. He knew Seth would never bow.

But Tubal lowered the shield and raised a hand to his companions to stand back. He took several deliberate steps toward Seth until they were only a few feet apart.

"Not one stands with you old man," Tubal whispered, looking around at the kneeling Sethites. "Your faith will die with you, and soon by the looks of it." With that, he waved to his men and they remounted their horses swiftly. Tubal held back as the rest of the raiding party rode out of the village, wagons in tow. It was then that he noticed the bare hilltop outside the village, and the altar there. He turned his horse toward Nod, his face grim.

Enoch remained as he was, kneeling in the dirt, as the Sethites retreated quietly back to their huts and fields. No one spoke, no one complained.

A hand appeared in front of Enoch. Enoch looked up to see Seth standing above him.

"I'm sorry grandfather, I should have stood with you," Enoch said as he took Seth's outstretched arm and stood to his feet. Seth just looked at Jared.

"But at what cost? Your father stood against Cain once," Seth said.

"I remember," Enoch replied, "I won't let that happen again."

"So," Seth said, "There was nothing you could have done."