Chapter 1 - The Plague

An ocean of stars brushed against the vessel in waves, sending music tumbling into the cabin, carefree and jubilant. Enoch pressed his face against the panel, eager to start the journey. He settled into the cushioned seat, glad the ruby fabric didn’t vanish beneath his touch, and gripped the golden rails until his knuckles appeared white. The dark expanse teemed with life! It swirled together in great systems, organizing, expanding, contracting, exploding—
“Surprised?” The Voice echoed through the chamber.
Enoch nodded.
“Regrets?”
Enoch shook his head, and laughed at himself—a grown man, crying! Grateful tears blurred his vision as he strained to take in the view. He couldn’t shut his eyes—not now, not ever. “I never knew there was so much—”
“We are delighted to find you.”
“Why me?”
“That day you stepped out of line and demanded an answer, We knew.”
Enoch frowned.
“From that moment, you were chosen to be taken.”

###

The year of the plague, 639 B.C. Enoch scratched the ruddy mound on his flesh, smacked the flittering critter buzzing round and took a step forward. The throng wove around the hillside until it disappeared into the dwelling atop the mount. “How much longer, you think?” Enoch rubbed the flesh near the wound, trying to ignore the itching.
“Aye, it bit you, did it?” The aged woman waved at the swarm with her smoking rod.
Enoch nodded and opened his palm. “What is it?” The squishy thing was intact but motionless.
“What does it do?” she asked.
“It flies.”
“Father Adam named it well.”
Enoch grinned and flicked it away.
“Here, rub that on it.” The aged woman handed him a small green leaf and moved a space ahead. “Didn’t use to be many of those around. You younglings wouldn’t remember.”
Enoch did as he was told. In moments, his skin returned to normal and the itching subsided. “It’s wonderful!” He dabbed the leaf over his legs and arms. “What’s it called?”
She looked over her shoulder and whispered. “Alroue—just a tad now and give it back. Ain’t much left.” She stuffed the leaf deep inside her robe. “You ask a lot of questions.”
The aged woman studied him from head to toe, but Enoch held her gaze steady.
“You not much older than my own daughter. Where your folk?”
“Too sick to stand.” Enoch straightened his shoulders and puffed his chest, so his blue banner gleamed in the sunlight. “They sent me to stand for them, seeing how I just turned seventeen and I’m a seventh son.”
“That you are.” The woman ran her calloused hand over his sash and turned him from side to side. Finally, she seemed satisfied. “A proud young scout too, I see. I’d be glad for ye company.”
Enoch gave her a low bow and offered his arm. “At your service, Mother.” 
“And you got honor too!” She grinned.
Enoch was glad to get the woman’s approval, but she was the one asking a lot of questions—especially about his fathers, until he had recited his whole lineage from Jared back to Adam! He would have said so, but she didn’t seem the type to be trifled with. “Many pardons, Mother, but when did the plague come to your—”
The aged woman kept right on talking. “As I was saying, my daughter be a real find, in training to be a Medici woman too. How long you been training for the Nesh Pa Nel—” 
He and the woman exchanged tales of their clans to pass the light. She mostly talked about her daughter named Dinah who was near mating age. The mother had a funny way of getting answers without giving any. But since the line had barely budged from sun’s birth, Enoch didn’t mind. Kinsmen from the four corners were arriving continuously, skipping the rear, bargaining for a spot near the front, pushing him and the woman further behind. Enoch tried to be polite, but this was ridiculous. We’ll never get to see Father Adam at this pace! he thought.
“Make way, boy!” a brutish man covered in pelts yelled, jostling Enoch so hard he stumbled into the old woman.
The man, his two wives and four children, bucked right in front of him and the aged mother.
“Hey!” Enoch shouted.
The woman cupped a hand over his mouth. “Hush now. Those be Cain’s folk. We don’t want no trouble.”
“Cain’s folk! What are they doing here?” Enoch said a little too loudly.
The craggy man glared at Enoch. His daughter, a pretty girl with long raven hair, disappeared behind her mother, but not before waving at Enoch and giving him a shy smile.
Enoch smiled back, wincing when the aged woman pinched his ear.
“Mind your manners. Great Mother Eve sent for their clan—seeing how Father Adam be getting the dark side of the sun.”
The burly youth next to the pretty girl, wore a scout’s banner almost identical to Enoch’s own, except his was crimson. Enoch nodded and gave him the scout’s signal.
The boy hesitated, glancing at his father, still busy arguing with his wives. He returned the hand gesture when the craggy man wasn’t looking and added a few more.
Enoch sent another hand signal. “Good thing you’re a new around here or I’d challenge your Papa.” Enoch flexed his skinny biceps, moved into the warrior’s stance and scowled.
The boy laughed so hard dimples protruded from his chubby cheeks.
The two went back and forth exchanging info with a slight of hand as the line edged forward. Enoch learned the boy’s name was Tubal-Cain and the pretty girl was his sister, Naamah. Naamah didn’t know the secret code—no real Nesh Pa Nel would ever show it to a girl! —so her brother whispered the translation every so often, which made her giggle.
“Aye, the day’s sweeter with friends,” the aged woman said.
Enoch nodded, trying to think of something else clever to signal—anything to make Naamah laugh. Enoch thought he’d never seen something so beautiful as Naamah’s eyes when she smiled. The long wait seemed mere moments.
The elder woman tapped his shoulder, looking annoyed. “Time to gather your wits, boy!”
Enoch startled. They were just steps away from Adam’s dwelling. The elders whispered in the old tongue outside the entrance, but not so low Enoch couldn’t make out a few words. He winked at Tubal-Cain and gestured for him to eavesdrop too.
A petite girl, almost buried under a halo of sandy curls, sat at the foot of a silver-haired elder. She grabbed the old man’s blades from his belt and flicked them against each other, pausing just long enough to gesture back. “Aye, will do.”
Enoch frowned and signaled the curly girl. “I am not talking to you. I was talking to him.” Enoch pointed at Tubal-Cain.
The curly girl gave Tubal-Cain the once-over, shrugged and continued sharpening the blades.
“Who taught you Nesh Pa Nel signals?” Enoch asked, using his hands.
She put a finger to her lips and pointed to the elder. “Listen.”
“Did you find the vine?” one elder asked the silver-haired man.
“No. The Medici searched the heart of the Seven Hills—nothing,”
“The alpha-trackers were sent to the Edge. Perhaps they found favor—” 
The elder stopped speaking when Father Adam coughed a hacking so loud those close by fell silent.
“Keep quiet about the alroue, boy,” the aged mother whispered. “I might be needing it for myself.”
“He’s been like this for many suns—” the silver-haired man said quietly.
The coughing spell returned louder this time and with it a whooping ring. Father Adam tried to speak in between fits, but his voice was thin, weak and his breaths so labored, it pained Enoch to hear him. Enoch gazed down the hillside. As far as the eye could see tribesmen stood waiting for their moment, each for his turn to speak with First Father Adam one last time. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed it before—many of them were coughing too.
Enoch counted the people in front of the aged woman—twelve more to go.
“He needs rest,” the silver-haired elder said. “We should stop—”
A wretched sound, loud and long, came from the dwelling. Adam gasped—
The silver-haired elder rushed inside, pulling the curly girl behind him.
Enoch stepped around the aged woman and peeked through the entry. Mother Eve was at Father Adam’s side, rubbing his chest. She gave the signal to shut the curtains. 
Without thinking, Enoch grabbed the aged woman’s hand and forced his way through, breaking the line and all order as he pushed past the craggy man and every elder. “Wait!” Enoch demanded. “She has alroue!”
The elders waved them forward. The aged woman resisted Enoch, but when she met Mother’s Eve’s desperate eyes, she bowed and gave her the tiny, withered leaf. “A gift for me Father Adam. May the Ancient bless thee—”
Mother Eve kissed the aged woman. “Bless ye, daughter.” She grabbed a steaming pot of water from the fire and snapped her fingers at the curly girl. “Quick. Boil it.”
The elders patted Enoch on the head and made as if they would show him out. Mother Eve held the steaming cup of alroue so her husband could drink.
Enoch shook them off, grabbed the patriarch’s hand and squeezed it until his cloudy, brown eyes fluttered open.
“Father Adam—what was the Ancient One like?” Enoch asked, pointing above. “What did you see when you first opened your eyes?”
“Enough boy!” The silver-haired elder frowned and pulled him back.
Adam seemed to get a second wind. His eyes brightened.
“Let him pass.” Mother Eve waved the youth forward, smiling. “Call for the sevenths.”
The silver-haired elder ushered Enoch to a stool by Father Adam and pulled the curtains back, directing the seventh sons from all tribes to seats nearest the patriarch. The craggy man pushed his son in the spot right next to Enoch.
Enoch winked at Tubal-Cain.
The boy grinned and winked back, eager to hear the tale.
Father Adam seemed tired, but Enoch was excited. “Were you afraid? What color was His eyes? Does He really look like us?”
“Be slow to speak and swift to hear, son.” Adam laughed. “He was glorious—”
Adam began from his first memory of the Light calling his name and the tenor of the Voice. He described the sound of the Ancient’s steps, the movement of His splendid robe, the joys of the Garden, his mate’s first appearing—Father Adam talked on and on, his voice gently slowing, softly slurring, eyes closing, loved ones surrounding until the room was full, and finally Mother Eve’s tears falling.
“Did he die?” the curly girl asked.
“Not yet,” Mother Eve dabbed her eyes and wrapped more covers over him. “He is resting. We shall see what the new sun brings.”
Mother Eve bent down and hugged Enoch. “That was a beautiful thing you did—brave too.” She removed a gold braided band still clenched in Adam’s hand “This was made from the skins given to us by the Ancient Himself. Adam was planning to give it to a seventh today.”
“But what of the other seventh sons?” the craggy man protested. “He hasn’t talked to them all—"
“This one be favored,” the Great Mother said, draping it around Enoch’s neck. “Take it.” She was already moving on, giving the elders orders. “Make haste. Give the sickly ones a sip of brew until it runs out—”
Suddenly Enoch was surrounded by tribesmen, slapping him on the back, congratulating him.
“Well done.”
“You Jared’s boy, right?”
“Fool!” The craggy man barked, slapping Tubal-Cain as hard as he could. “Why couldn’t you do something like that?” He ripped the boy’s banner off his chest, threw it to the ground and stomped on it. “Some seventh son you are.”
The youngling’s eyes filled with tears. A red welt appeared on his chubby cheek.
The man’s wives argued with the craggy man, pulling him to the side.
Naamah hid behind Tubal-Cain.
Enoch felt his own cheeks burn as he picked up the torn banner and gave it to the young scout. “Sorry—”
Tubal-Cain shrugged and turned away.
The silver-haired elder moved as if he would confront the craggy man but stopped when he was called to the entrance.
“A tracker has been spotted near the outskirts—” Enoch overheard an elder whisper.
The curly girl looked as if she might throw a dagger at the craggy man. Instead, she threw up a signal. “Follow me.”
“Why?” Enoch motioned.
She rolled her eyes and used her hands. “To see some real Nesh Pa Nel.”
“Him too?” Enoch asked, pointing at Tubal-Cain.
“Not if he’s afraid of the woods—”
“I’m no coward.” Tubal Cain was huffy as he stepped timidly out of his father’s view. The craggy man was now scolding twin boys, who cried in the folds of their mother’s skirts.
“We shall see.” The curly girl swiped Tubal-Cain’s crimson banner and smirked as she stuffed it into her pocket. “And you might be wantin’ this back.”
Enoch grinned at her sauce. The curly girl was already heading toward the back.
“What’s your name?” Enoch asked.
“Tiph’arah, daughter of Seth,” she said, pointing at the silver-haired elder.
“Can I come too?” Naamah whispered, catching up.
“You hate the woods—” her brother protested.
“No, I don’t.”
“Stay with mother.”
“Please!” Naamah panicked. “Don’t leave me with—”
“Fine,” Tubal-Cain said. “But you better keep up.”
“I’ll help you, Naamah,” Enoch said.
The four younglings snuck away from the craggy man, out the back and into the sloping hills of Adamah.

###

Icy eyes wide with shock, pale and blubbering. The alpha-trackers drug the man on planks toward the seti, with heads held low, chanting. The four younglings hung from a Father Tree watching the procession.
“What happened to him?” Enoch yanked Naamah’s long pigtail, just as the last scout passed.
“Hush!” She squealed and slapped his hand. “How should I know?”
“Got too close, probably,” Tubal-Cain somersaulted from a high branch and landed beside him. 
“I bet I could find the alroue and bring it back.” Enoch did two somersaults and swung to the ground using a vine.
“Not if I get it first.” Tiph’arah cartwheeled from the tree and landed on her feet.
“Sorry, no girls allowed in the Nesh Pa Nel,” Tubal-Cain said, imitating her move.
“Wolves would tear you to bits before you cleared Avenland Forest,” Enoch said.
“Looking for this?” Tiph’arah swiped Enoch’s blade and held it in the sun. “I can track better than both of you.”
“Help!” Naamah called from the treetop.
“I told you not to climb,” Tubal-Cain shouted at his sister. “You know you’re afraid of heights.”
Tiph’arah giggled.
“I’ll get her,” Enoch said, scaling back up the trunk. 
Naamah waited with arms folded, lips pouting. “See, Enoch.” She dangled the tattered ribbon in the breeze. “You broke it.”
“Sorry.” Enoch looked down. Tubal-Cain and Tiph’arah were too busy arguing to notice him. “Here. Use this instead.” He pulled the braided band from his neck, tore a piece off and tied it around her hair. The gold leather strip gleamed against her ebony plait. 
“The gold band is just for sevenths,” she flushed. “I couldn’t—”
“If I break something, I fix it. Please, take it.” Enoch wiped his sweaty palm and held out his hand. “Friends forever?”
She ignored his hand and kissed his cheek. 
“Friends forever.” Naamah climbed onto his back.
“Enoch, hurry up,” Tiph’arah yelled from below. “They’re coming.”
Naamah jumped from the lowest branch into her brother’s arms.
“We’ll split here,” Enoch said. “We don’t want the fathers to catch us.”