Enki made ready to speak,

and said to the great gods:

"On the first, seventh, and fifteenth days of the month,

let me establish a purification, a bath.

Let one god be slaughtered,

then let the gods be cleansed by immersion.

Let Nintu mix clay with his flesh and blood.

Let that same god and man be thoroughly mixed in the clay.

Let us hear the drum for the rest of the time.

From the flesh of the god let a spirit remain,

let it make the living know its sign,

lest he be allowed to be forgotten, let the spirit remain."

The great Anunna-gods, who administer destinies,

answered "yes!" in the assembly.

It took me hours before I found my way out of the city. The coming of dawn did nothing to aid me in my pitch black thoughts. All I could see was the previous night replaying over and over before my eyes, and worst of all Fauron’s death. I hadn’t killed him, I knew that, but I wondered if I had acted differently, if I had waited for my father to talk Lamech down, if I had caught Lamech’s hand rather than his face or a hundred other scenarios, would my brother be alive? My soul has rarely since been as tormented as it was then, even with all the horrors I have seen. Not the betrayal of the Nephilim nor the purge of Atlantis can compare with it. My brother was dead, and I was exiled from my home. I was stranded in a city of people who hated me and would hurt or kill me if given a chance. I knew my only hope was to head south where my pale skin wouldn’t stand out so much. That is, if I could survive the leagues of blistering desert.

It was after noon when I finally ran into the empty dust bowl of the crater. I was unprepared for a journey, but had no means to get what I would need to travel the long leagues to Edom anyway. So it was that I stumbled unseen out of Enoch’s city and bent my path south through the desert without so much as a coat or a canteen. The next time I would see that city it would be hidden by walls and garrisons and armies. The world had changed overnight.

Not many people traveled south in those days, which made it easy for me to get away unnoticed. I traversed the barren sunbaked landscape feeling my stomach growl and turn in on itself. Even that first day I could feel my skin burn. When night came I didn’t stop. I had no food, no blankets, there wasn’t even fuel for a fire, so I continued on. My mind ran in circles as my feet trod the endless expanse of barren ground. I dwelled on things I should have done or things I would do if I ever saw Lamech again.

I had no idea where I was going. Hopefully some pale barbarian tribe would take me in, if I lived that long. The chill of the night was so cold that it hurt, but it was almost a relief to the burns on my exposed skin. As the sun rose and I felt so tired I could barely stay on my feet. My flesh burned, my muscles ached, and my insides were an empty pit of pain. Then the thought occurred to me that maybe I had been wrong. Maybe I could go back. Surely there was nothing to be afraid of anymore. What had happened was clear enough. There were witnesses. And besides, even if people were angry, what could they do that would be worse than being out here starving and cooking in the desert?

When I turned and looked back I saw a plume of dust rising and a few dark figures moving toward me. Were they after me? Was it worth getting caught just to get some water? My throat was so dry that when I tried to call out only a hoarse wheezing came out. I took steps toward them and my legs folded under me almost as if seeing hope of rescue had made my body give up. I was afraid I would die before help could reach me. I thought of Elara and wondered what had become of her. Hopefully she was faring better than I was. I hoped that she would think of me sometimes too. My vision started to go dark when shadowy forms loomed over me and kneeled beside me. Then I floated into a cart.

No, people can’t float. I must have been lifted. My throat was relieved and felt cool and open. My senses slowly returned and I found myself in a cart not unlike the one my family had journeyed with.

“Don’t worry, Namir is tougher than he looks,” a voice said.

I knew that voice. I tried to sit up and look around but my vision started to blur and I lay back down.

“Oh, he’s awake,” a man sitting next to me said. I could see another man following the cart astride a tall beast that I thought was a camel, though I was unfamiliar with them. They were those tall sinewy creatures that moaned and spit right? There must have been another man driving the cart and Elara was there somewhere too, I was sure of it. Then through a gap in the tarpaulin of the cart I saw a feminine form and a tress of light golden hair. But first I needed to know who these strangers were.

“Where are you taking me?” I demanded.

“A simple thank you would suffice,” the man beside me said. He, like the others, was wrapped in loose desert garb including a hood that kept all hidden but his face which seemed odd somehow though I couldn’t place why. Maybe his nose was too wide, or his mouth too grim for the smile he showed. “But we will take you no further than you wish to go. Say the word and we shall leave you on whichever heap of sand you choose in this lonely crater,” he continued.

“Don’t throw him to the wolves, Let,” the familiar voice said. “He and I have had a rough couple of days.”

The tarpaulin parted and seated next to the driver Elara looked at me with her stunning violet eyes and brilliant platinum hair. My face flushed as I realized I was staring and I made an extended study of the crates, barrels, and baskets that were stacked high around me in the wagon. I took a few moments to sit up and arrange myself in the cramped space as my mind struggled to catch up with what I was seeing. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted an explanation, but I didn’t know the men that were with us. I didn’t know who I could trust.

“Where are you going?” I asked instead of the million other questions that flooded my mind.

“Atlantis,” Elara answered. That would be a long journey to the other side of the garden itself, if I remembered my geography right. Atlantis was always spoken of with wonder, yes, but also suspicion, hostility, and taboo. What would she want to go to the land of those stuck up, ostentatious, warmongering heathens for? But wasn’t Edom on the way? Or, better yet, one of the smaller communities on the outskirts.

“May I come as far as Edom or Shem?” I asked.

“Come with me to Zion,” Elara countered.

Was that where she came from? Was that why she had all of those Atlantean devices?

“Why?” I asked. “Why are you going there?”

“I have to report to Enoch that I failed,” she said with a pained sigh.

“So, you’re Atlantean?” I asked. “Is that why you can go… back in…”

Elara gestured sharply with her hand and at first I stopped speaking out of confusion until I understood that silence was what she wanted. “That’s why you’re going back, and had those magic Atlantean tools,” I finished with too much delay for anyone actually listening to believe. Elara rolled her eyes at me, but smiled with relief.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she said. “I can explain later. For now I can say that I’m like a messenger.” It was obvious that even though she was traveling with these men and they knew some of her secrets, she had more to hide. I wasn’t about to divulge her secrets to strangers, but having my questions unanswered didn’t improve my mood or opinion of her.

“I will go as far with you as Shem or Edom,” I said.

Elara nodded approvingly at me, then let the man beside me, whom I had almost forgotten, slap me on the back.

“Good to have you with us Namir,” he said. “Welcome to our band of spies.” As if that had been some kind of signal the man driving the wagon and the rider following shimmered like a mirage and their skin began to pale. The man beside me, however, stayed the same.

“What in the seven goddesses is going on?” I exclaimed.

The man laughed with a nervous undertone. “Maybe it's a good thing you aren’t going to Zion if you use language like that.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. What was wrong with my language? “Would they even allow us into Atlantis’s borders?” I asked. This time the man seemed confused.

“Why wouldn’t they?” he asked.

I looked at the pale skin of everyone else before I answered. “Because of our lineage.”

He threw his head back and laughed uncontrollably like a man sprinting down a hill is unable to stop. I felt my face grow hot, especially when I noticed Elara glance my way and shake her head as she tried not to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” I bristled.

“First,” the man said when he could finally speak again, “what do you think Atlantis is? Second, what do you think your lineage is?”

My pride flared again at his words and I felt myself grow hot from anger rather than embarrassment. “I am Namir, son of Roulan, son of Irad, and the heathen nations do not take kindly to us. Everyone knows that they don’t dare attack us because of the curse that would fall on them if they did, but if it weren’t for that enchantment they would steal everything from us.” I had repeated what I had been taught all my life, and I had believed it, but now the looks of amusement the others were giving me made me question. Did I really know any of that for myself? I had only heard from my parents who had heard from someone else who had probably heard from someone else. But if I couldn’t believe my own parents then how was I supposed to believe a bunch of men that traveled in disguise?

“I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, though you are wise enough to know about prejudice,” the man said to me. I looked closer at him and realized that he wore no disguise. His darker skin tone was true, still lighter than most, but not beyond the normal range. “It is the folk of Cain that are cursed,” he explained. “A curse of their own making.”

“The whole world is cursed, Let,” Elara said from her perch up front.

The man, Let, smiled. “You said your father was Roulan?”

I nodded stiffly.

“He’s a good man. If any of those people have lifted the curse from themselves, it’s him. You’re not his son by birth. How did an Edomite get adopted, I wonder.” He spoke about my people with such disdain. He was probably just angry at himself.

“Maybe the same way you weren’t,” I said back. I was surprised at my own words and how I jumped to such a conclusion, but the look on his face told me I was right. He looked at me again and I could see a little more respect reflected in his eyes.

“My apologies,” he said. “It’s not easy to grow up without a heritage, is it?”

“No,” I acquiesced. “It isn’t.”

“My name is Let,” he said and offered his hand.

“Namir,” I said, and shook it.

“It’s not easy being the foreigner,” Let said. “But you can still be accepted.

“My mother was the daughter of a trader named Azazel and, though it was forbidden, they did business with Atlantis and other Edomite nations. Mind you, I wasn’t there for this, but the story goes that far to the east in the hills on the far side of the crater waste, Azazel and his troop were driven away by violence and threatened with much worse because of the Atlantean goods they sold. In the borders of Edomite land they were again turned away even when merely asking for aid.

“Their provisions ran low, and their pack animals began to die. Their wagons broke as they journeyed along the borders of the land of Seth. Then a mob of Edomites attacked them because of the color of their skin. They stole everything from them. Goods, beasts of burden, even the clothes off their backs, but that was only the least of it. They stole the unimaginable, the virtue of my mother. Over long hard leagues my mother, her father, and those of her people who had not deserted walked west, not daring to stray north to the people of Cain nor to the south among the people of Adam.

“The sun, rain, cold, and hard stones wore them like the grit of sand in a gale till their skins were thin and their bones were brittle. Eventually only my mother and grandfather remained. Azazel died on the borders of Atlantis. My mother was found not long after that and gave birth to me in Zion. The strain was too great and her spirit left her. An atlantean family took me in and in time I met king Enoch and joined this crew. So, yes, I know how it feels.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t commiserate nor comfort nor even so much as acknowledge him. I did, however, learn two things. First, I was not unique. There were others who had been through what I had. It was sad, and yet, comforting. The second was that even the unclaimed have a heritage. Even if I knew less of my past than Let did of his, it was still out there somewhere, waiting for me to find it. Thinking about that brought me back to Elara. She knew something and I was determined to not let her get away before she answered a few questions.

I was given water and food, and within a few hours I was walking on my own two feet again. Let and another man, whose name I learned was Aaron, sat astride camels and rode beside me. I preferred to use my own legs, at least for the time being. The pace was fine for walking as the cummoms pulling the cart were quite slow in their duties. Elara stayed perched atop the wagon with the driver and hid her face behind her hood despite the fact that we were many leagues from anyone else.

Maybe if I had been through what she had I would have been more careful too. I wondered when I would get the chance to talk to her. There were so many questions and memories, fears and anger, pain and remorse for me to possibly face. Not alone. Best not to think about it. I had enough on my plate trying to keep my skin from burning off of my bones in the scorching sun. After a short stop for dinner I found something else to occupy my mind.

Until then I had never ridden an animal before. My family had owned a couple of cummoms to haul our cart, like the ones hauling this wagon, but those were not for riding. When Aaron suggested that I ride a camel my internal conflict stifled my words. Excitement and fear welled in me, each threatening to smother the other. The first thing I noticed when they hoisted me onto the beast was how very tall it was. It was like being at the top of a sapling that bent and swayed in a strong wind. It didn’t seem too pleased with the situation either and looked back at me to glare every now and then. On reflection, I quite dislike camels. Cureloms are much better animals, but I get ahead of myself. It would be years before I met and tamed Hador.

In the meantime I was stuck on a camel with Elara, Let, Aaron, and the driver riding beside me. It is odd, but I don’t rightly recall the driver’s name. I felt an affinity for Let and may have trusted him, but I would have to wait to be away from the others before I would speak to Elara.