Читать книгу Cradle Of Destiny - James Axler - Страница 7

Were his face capable of showing more than just the crudest replication of human expression, Ullikummis’s features would have been cast in a brooding, troubled scowl. He had come to Earth in an effort to usurp this fragile blue globe from the talons of Enlil and his brethren, only to find himself dealing with humanity itself. What had most troubled the godling was a face that he had encountered millennia ago, before his banishment.

The one whom he knew by the name of Enkidu, the warrior who had pummeled one of his thralls into unconsciousness, lived in this time as a man called Grant. The last time Ullikummis had seen him was when he was still a child, in the court of his half brother, Humbaba….

As a boy of eight, Ullikummis was already different from his fellow Annunaki. He was larger and stronger than those his age, and the early buds of stone that would form his famous invulnerable hide were mottled discolorations on his scales. As he walked with his mother in his half brother’s court, the beautiful alien rulers of Earth cringed at the sight of him.

Ullikummis knew he was a freak, but his mother told him of the glories that would be bestowed upon him at the hand of Enlil. As it was, the young Annunaki covered his distortions beneath his cloak, glaring from the shadows of a hood at those who knew not the beauty of raw power that had been cooed in his ear by Ninlil, his mother.

“Your half brother, Ullikummis, and his mother, Ninlil,” spoke one of Humbaba’s reptilian Igigi slaves, introducing the pair.

The master of the court of Urudug cast his cold amber eyes to his kin, taking in his height, taller than many of the reptilian slave folk who worked in Humbaba’s court, whose flesh resembled a dried clay tablet, stony with a cracked and pocked surface. Humbaba’s mouth, catlike in nature with a deep cleft, the upper lip dimpled with the bases of several undulating, tentaclelike whiskers underneath a black triangular nose, turned up in a semblance of a smirk, or as close as the feline giant could manage. It was an ironic grin as he recognized his father’s tinkering with the Annunaki perfection.

Humbaba himself was a cast of the die thrown by Enlil. Where the child before him, growing plates of granitelike skin, was obviously an effort at recasting Annunaki genes in a silicon-based life form, Humbaba was combined with one of the races discovered in northern Africa, the Anhur. Conquered by Enlil’s armies, the lion folk had impressed their mutual father enough to warrant experimentation. Though Anhur had been all but scourged from Earth, Enlil had saved a bride from the feline colonists as an experiment to relieve his boredom, curiosity and lust.

The result was nine feet and four hundred pounds of rippling, coiled muscle sheathed in a blend of golden fur and glimmering scales along his chest, belly, arms and legs. Humbaba had proved his might in single and multiple combat with Nephilim and Igigi, showing his might as a match for any five of those servitor beings. Humbaba mused over Ullikummis and what kind of beast he would be in adulthood.

He was tempted to throw the brat before his new prize, but Humbaba didn’t want to waste his slave or incur the ire of his father, depending on who won their conflict. Even under Shamhat’s influence, Humbaba was not certain the man-beast would accept orders. Enkidu had arrived, unable to speak the language of the apekin the Annunaki ruled over, not a problem with the mental abilities of the overlords. Telepathic communication enabled Enkidu to understand their words, even though the wild man’s brain was a scramble of disjointed information, making it nearly impossible to know his origin. All they could tell was that he was human, and he bore technology far beyond the simple tools that the apekin had developed.

The cloak he wore, the weapon strapped to his arm, even the small implant put subcutaneously on his mandible, were materials either thousands of years distant for humankind, or inspired by the technological genius of the Annunaki and their slaves. The cloak and weapon hung on a pillar, not far from the bound giant. His skin was shades lighter than the ebony of the natives of the continent of Africa, indicating that somewhere along the course of his family, the blood of Europeans and Asians had mixed into his genes. He was a melting pot of all manner of humanity’s strengths—that much was apparent from Humbaba’s gene crafters. They had even seen some of the hand of such gene tampering in the protein strings that decided his form.

His musculature had only improved in the time since he had first appeared, and his will was still strong, despite the brainwashing techniques of Shamhat, the finest of Humbaba’s scientists. That iron determination not to be dominated and the odd scrambling that had stripped Enkidu of his identity had stopped them cold.

“Do you like my man-bull?” Humbaba asked his half brother.

“He’s…impressive,” Ullikummis replied. As tall as the young Annunaki was, this was the first human who towered over him. Dark eyes blazed with rage and defiance, a fire inside that was not quenched. “How long have you had him?”

Humbaba frowned. “Not long enough.”

“He hasn’t been broken,” the son of Enlil said. “I repeat…how long have you had him?”

“Four months.” Humbaba sighed with resignation.

Ullikummis looked at the chains wound around Enkidu’s wrists. Shoulders swelled like melons, his forearms corded so tightly that the veins stood out on them. He was straining against secondary orichalcum, one of the strongest alloys developed by the Annunaki. “He’s that strong?”

“He could not burst the links on the steel chain we put him in,” Humbaba said. “But he used those bonds to crush the throats and break the necks of four Nephilim.”

Ullikummis tilted his head.

“He’s just a human,” Humbaba said.

Ullikummis narrowed his eyes.

Humbaba didn’t sound quite so convinced of his superiority as the chained apekin stood. This was not a beast who railed savagely against his captivity. This one quietly flexed, his muscles struggling to find a single weakness in his bonds, all the while watching for the opportunity to get the upper hand.

Either Humbaba and Shamhat would break him, or this giant among humans would see their downfall.

It would be worse should Enkidu remember his true name.

The man who would be known as Grant five thousand years from now bided his time, waiting for his chance to break free, to find out who he truly was, and return to where he knew the language and the people.