David Ascendant (Chronicles of the Nephilim Book 7) by Brian Godawa

with him.
    She said, “Why do you not consult with your seer?”
    “He is not speaking to me.” He knew he could not gain her trust by lying to her.
    She spit out venomously, “Samuel.”
    He thought she had stressed the “S” like a hissing snake.
    Saul looked around. He saw movement in the dark corners, like that of slithering shadows. He wondered if the walls were alive. Some of the shadows became more visible in the low torchlight to reveal serpents of all kinds. He felt a shiver down his spine. They were in a cave crawling with snakes. He stepped back in self protection. His two men stepped closer to him, hands on swords.
    The Ob whispered. “Do not worry, king. They will not strike — unless I command them.” She gave him a toothy grin and he could see she had sharpened teeth.
    He gathered his courage and said, “I want you to bring up someone for me from Sheol.”
    Another turn of her curious head. She twitched, as if something unseen touched her head.
    “And who might that be, O king?”
    “I want you to bring up for me the greatest king who ever ruled on the face of the earth: Nimrod of Babel.”
    Her eyes went wide with surprise. She shrugged. “Impressive. Bold. Dangeroussss.” That slithering “s” again.
    Saul knew she was not exaggerating. Raising up such a powerful entity was a danger. He might unleash a force he could not control. But he had to do it. Yahweh had wanted Saul to be a mighty king. Samuel had condemned him for his timidity, disobedience, and foolish decisions. He had cut Saul off from Yahweh. So Saul concluded that he would seek the help of this mightiest king of history to become a gibborim in the face of Yahweh, just as Nimrod had been. He would make them sorry they ever rejected Saul ben Kish from being king over Israel.
    The Ob said, “What you ask for carries serious ramifications. How will you guarantee to spare my life for my participation in this secret?”
    “You have my word. No one will know that I was here, for it would jeopardize my rule.”
    “Exactly,” she said with a grin and a twitch of her shoulder. “Which is your incentive to kill me when we are done.”
    He knew she was right. He had to give her the only thing she could rely upon.
    “I will cut a blood covenant with you,” he said.
    She smiled in agreement. A blood covenant was universally respected among all the nations of Canaan. And universally reinforced.
    “You will vow to spare my life, and should you have victory over the Philistines or annex my town, you will also spare my life.”
    “Agreed,” said Saul.
     
    They cut a lamb in half and poured its blood out on the ground and passed a torch between the halves to sanctify their covenant. Saul pronounced his promise of protection and a self-maledictory oath that would curse him should he violate the covenant. But she was not confident enough of the covenant being sworn before his god with whom he was not in good graces, so he had to swear by Dagon as well.
    Satisfied that she was appropriately protected, the Ob proceeded to engage in her necromancy ritual to call up the ancient king Nimrod. The ritual was drawn from Hittite and Assyrian Chthonic conjuring rituals.
    She placed bread around a deep pit that operated as a portal to Sheol. Next, she poured honey, milk and wine into the pit as a libation offering. Saul thought of how the honey was forbidden as a libation to Yahweh. He looked around him. He realized that all the moving serpent shadows around them were still.
    Then, the Ob cut the throat of a black pig—another abomination in Israelite sacrifice—and placed it at the edge of the pit, with its blood flowing down to the bottom. Saul then was instructed to cast in a piece of his own silver. It was all part of luring the conjured spirit up out of the pit. And no doubt, as monetary reward for the Ob afterward.
    The Ob lit incense bowls and lowered them to the bottom of the pit. The smoky odor filled Saul’s nostrils and made him dizzy.