The Fallen 4

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  It was a dragon.

  As crazy as it sounded, a dragon flew in the sky above Dusty, and it spit fire at the sword.

  Instinctively his arms went up, shielding his face as the blast of fire hit the weapon, engulfing it, and causing it to explode.

  The Instrument exploded into millions of flying pieces, the force of it hurling Dusty backward across the property as shrapnel rained down all around him.

  Lying there upon the ground, Dusty was shocked to be still alive, never mind conscious, and felt his body begin to violently shake, mirroring the Instrument.

  He raised his arms. His clothes were shredded, and his skin was slick with blood. With growing horror Dusty looked at the pieces of the Instrument that were now protruding from his body.

  And each and every piece was vibrating.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Aaron returned to the Saint Athanasius School and Orphanage, the stink of death heavy in his nostrils.

  He hadn’t been back more than seconds when the explosion occurred, clouds of thick, noxious smoke mixed with dust forming a mushroom cloud in the air.

  Aaron flew toward the explosion with all the speed that he could, a fist of dread gripping his heart.

  Whatever had happened, it had happened at the science building.

  * * *

  Vilma hoped the sound had been thunder, but quickly came to realize that it was not as her eyes fell upon the roiling cloud of smoke.

  Cameron appeared beside her, a sword already in hand.

  “Are we under attack again?” he asked, eyes fixed upon the black smoke in the distance.

  Vilma was about to answer, when Melissa appeared in a flutter of wings and the heavy smell of divine fire.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, fear and urgency in her voice.

  “I think we’ve been attacked,” Cameron answered.

  Vilma realized something at once. “Where’s Verchiel?” she asked.

  Melissa looked around. “He isn’t here?”

  There was another flash close by, and Melissa tensed as she summoned her own blade, but it was Gabriel, his fur flecked with golden fire.

  “Lorelei?” he asked in his doggy grumble.

  “We were just about to go and look for her,” Vilma answered, just as something enormous appeared in the sky, flying overhead.

  “Get down,” she ordered, and they crouched low, using the dormitory building as cover.

  “How did a dragon get in here?” Melissa asked.

  It was worse than Vilma had thought.

  They all recoiled in horror as the great dragon opened its mouth and began to belch gouts of fire.

  Gabriel growled, staring intensely into the sky at the great beast.

  He then turned his gaze to Vilma’s.

  “I’ll check that out,” he volunteered, and before she could even answer him, the dog was gone in a flash of holy fire.

  “He’s changed,” Melissa said, staring worriedly at the spot where the dog had been.

  Vilma was going to agree with her, before telling them that they were heading over to the science building, when they heard the scream.

  It was as if somebody were having their very soul torn from their body.

  And she knew that the scream had come from Aaron.

  * * *

  The first thing Aaron saw was the smoldering pile of rubble where the science building used to be. Concrete, wood, and metal beams condensed into one intensely concentrated pile, as if it had all been pulled toward the center where the building had once stood.

  The air was still thick with particulate, but his keen eyes scanned the area for any signs of life. And in an area of grass, just beyond where the concrete walkway to the building would have been, he found her body.

  Pulling his wings tight to his body, Aaron dropped from the air to the ground in a run.

  “Lorelei,” he called out, watching for any sign of movement, but she lay there incredibly still. “Lorelei, please…”

  He knew that she was gone before he even reached her. Any hint of her life force—that which made her Nephilim—was completely absent from her body.

  “No,” he said, falling to his knees by her side. He didn’t know what to do, repeating “no” over and over again. Without thinking he reached down and took her into his arms, hoping that somehow he was wrong.

  But he wasn’t.

  Lorelei was dead.

  “Oh, God,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion, and he meant it. Oh, God, how could You let this happen to her? Aaron held his dearest friend tightly in his arms, rocking back and forth as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and screamed his anguish.

  He sensed them even though they hadn’t made a sound. Their very presence was like a blight, a black stain upon the very fabric of life.

  Aaron lifted his face from his dead friend’s neck to see that he was surrounded. He knew most by species: trolls, goblins, demons, and wraiths, for he had ended many of their kind’s lives. And some he knew simply as monsters, one-of-a-kind aberrations that sprang from the darkness during these turbulent times.

  But it didn’t really matter what they were called, only that they were here and were responsible for the death of someone that he’d cared about very deeply.

  Someone who had been helping him save the world… someone who was now gone.

  They knew that he saw them, but there was no fear, their courage bolstered by the fact that they had killed one of his number.

  Aaron was gently placing Lorelei’s body back down upon the ground, when they attacked as one. There was actually very little thought on Aaron’s part, a sword of fire—quite possibly the largest and most severe blade he had ever manifested—was there for him as he leaped to his feet, wings lifting him just high enough so that he might dispatch the monsters with ease.

  It was almost too easy. Their movements seemed to be in slow motion. They struck at him in places where he had been but wasn’t anymore. Aaron showed no mercy, taking their heads and their limbs, making their deaths as excruciating as possible before allowing them the mercy of oblivion.

  They were all dead even before he realized. He actually felt a certain level of disappointment that there weren’t more of them, for he still had so, so much more anger left.

  For a moment he was able to step outside his rage, and he saw that the bodies of the monsters had fallen upon his deceased friend. He quickly jumped to remedy the situation. He was dragging the bodies, and pieces of bodies from atop and near Lorelei, when the sky above him grew inexplicably dark.

  Aaron raised his gaze skyward, to see that there was a dragon now above him, its serpentine neck rearing back—its awful mouth agape—as it prepared to vomit flaming death upon him.

  His first instinct was to protect his friend, to lift Lorelei’s body, to move it somewhere safe before…

  But there wasn’t enough time, and the dragon released a blast of its flaming venom. The unnatural fire engulfed Aaron and the grounds around him. The pain was excruciating, and he felt his friend’s body disintegrate within his grasp, his impressive wingspan barely providing him with enough protection to survive the burning onslaught.

  Lorelei’s ashen remains slipped through his fingers as Aaron opened his wings to face this latest horror. The dragon had dropped to the ground, its yellow eyes fixed upon him as it readied to unleash another blast of its incendiary breath.

  Aaron tensed, bringing his wings about him, not sure if he could survive another blast, but he was ready to fight nonetheless.

  The dragon’s mouth had opened to spew its fiery poison, when deliverance came from the sky.

  Vilma was the first to attack, swooping hawklike upon her reptilian prey, her divine blade slashing across its face.

  What a sight she is, Aaron thought. But also a force to be reckoned with.

  A force to fear, especially for those who served the darkness.

  Melissa and Cameron joined the fray, flying about the dragon’s head, distracting i
t.

  Aaron was about to help them, when he was overcome with an odd sensation. Turning from the dragon battle, he saw an armored figure watching him.

  “Hello, Aaron,” the figure said, his voice muffled by the helmet he wore. “It’s about time that we met.”

  Somehow Aaron knew that this was the one that the goblin had praised, the one who the goblins thought would lead their filthy kind to victory over the forces of light.

  This was the Darkstar. And, yes, it was time that they met.

  * * *

  Gabriel appeared not far from where the Instrument had originally pierced the ground, the blackened earth still burning from the dragon’s attack.

  Turning his nose to the air, the dog sniffed, but he couldn’t find a trace of the giant weapon.

  The dog was confused. Where could something that big have possibly gone?

  He could not locate the sword, but he did smell something else—blood. And he knew that it belonged to Dusty.

  Gabriel launched into action, barking wildly, hoping that Dusty would be able to respond. He placed his nose to the charred surface of the ground, to track the scent to his friend.

  There. The metallic smell filled his senses, and he was off, following the trail into a more heavily wooded area.

  Gabriel was growing concerned. He could no longer sense the magickal barriers that had protected the school, and he became all the more worried for Lorelei’s safety.

  But that concern was quickly replaced by another. He saw Dusty’s limp and bleeding body being dragged through the dirt toward a patch of shadows beneath a thicket of heavy leaves and flowers.

  “Stop!” Gabriel barked, allowing his angelic transformation to overtake him.

  Whatever had been tugging Dusty’s body stopped at his command. Gabriel waited to see what would emerge from the gloom.

  He wasn’t sure exactly what they were, but he had seen pictures of something similar in one of Lorelei’s many books. Gabriel believed they were called wood sprites, small creatures with spindly limbs that appeared to be made from tree branches.

  The sprites circled Dusty’s prone form, their bark-covered faces stained red with blood. It appeared that they were already sampling their prey.

  “Will you leave your quarry and go along your way?” Gabriel asked them.

  The creatures looked at one another and laughed, high pitched and filled with madness. They charged at Gabriel, baring jagged teeth of petrified wood.

  Gabriel had known that would be their response, but he had wanted to give them a chance.

  Before having to kill them all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  You’re the Darkstar,” Aaron said, creating a weapon in his hand.

  “My reputation precedes me,” the armored figure answered, a blade manifesting within his grasp as well.

  They faced each other, no more than six or seven feet apart. Behind him Aaron could hear the battle between the Nephilim and the dragon, but he dared not take his eyes from the armored figure. There was something about this one, this Darkstar, that warned him to be at his best, and his most deadly.

  “Black fire,” Aaron said, staring at his opponent’s crackling ebony blade.

  “Do you like it?” the armored one asked. “I could give it to you.” He held the blade aloft. “Through the heart… just like the lovely Lorelei.”

  Aaron flinched at the mention of his friend’s name, his divine sword sparking noisily in his grasp.

  “That’s right,” the Darkstar said. “I was the one to snuff out the light in her eyes. I watched it go, so bright and filled with hope one moment, then so dark as she realized the truth about it all.”

  Aaron knew what his foe was doing, pushing his buttons to get him to act recklessly, but he managed to hold himself together.

  Barely.

  “All this fighting… it was for nothing,” the Darkstar continued.

  Aaron simmered with fury, but he needed to stay calm, focused. To go off half-cocked now wasn’t going to do anyone any good.

  “Did I mention that she cried out your name as I slid the knife blade up under her ribs and into her beating heart?”

  It was like somebody had set a bomb off inside Aaron’s head, obliterating his rational self. He sprang into the air, powerful flaps of his wings sending him colliding into his enemy.

  “I guess I didn’t,” the Darkstar said, and laughed, a throaty, cheerful sound that just inflamed Aaron’s rage all the more.

  Aaron swung his sword, aiming to sever his adversary’s helmeted head from his shoulders, but the Darkstar was incredibly fast, taking to the air carried by wings as black as Aaron’s own.

  Fueled by fury, Aaron pursued his foe into the sky above the school. The Darkstar turned, maneuvering with amazing facility, striking out with his blade of dark fire.

  Aaron yelled as the sword sliced across the upper part of his arm with an icy numbness.

  Through gritted teeth Aaron glanced at the wound, but kept his focus on his opponent as he came round for another pass. The cold sensation was spreading, and Aaron placed his hand over the nasty gash, willing it filled with angel fire to cleanse and cauterize the wound.

  Flames filled his palm, and the air stank with the smell of roasting meat. Aaron grimaced with pain, but quickly moved past it to face the Darkstar before him.

  The Darkstar was at him again, and Aaron swung his sword. There was a flash as the two blades connected, and the Darkstar reared back, examining a tear in the shoulder of his armor.

  “Excellent,” he hissed, seeming to enjoy the combat.

  Thrusting with his powerful wings, the Darkstar came at Aaron again, but the Nephilim didn’t flinch. Instead he began a charge of his own.

  Aaron wasn’t sure what he expected. One of them to veer off at the last possible second? A game of chicken played by angelic beings? But Aaron had no intention of changing course.

  And neither did the Darkstar.

  The two struck in midair, the force of their collision creating a sound like a clap of thunder. They grappled, quarters too close for their swords to be effective.

  So the weapons of choice became knives.

  Aaron was at a disadvantage, his body unarmored. The Darkstar thrust and slashed with blades of black, his moves wild, eager, and Aaron waited for opportunities to present themselves, focusing his attacks upon the joints of his opponent’s ebony armor.

  Each cut and stab of the Darkstar’s black blade stole away more of Aaron’s body warmth. He tried to ignore it, tried to wait for that perfect opportunity as he parried and blocked the more deadly of his foe’s attempts.

  Aaron thrust back and away from his opponent’s lunge, bringing one of his wings down upon the Darkstar’s arm as he stabbed at Aaron with one of his black daggers. The force of Aaron’s blow caused the weapon to fall from his enemy’s grasp. Aaron saw the opportunity he’d been waiting for, and he reacted.

  With a cry of rage he reached for the Darkstar. The Darkstar tried to evade him, but Aaron was too fast, grabbing hold of the freezing cold metal of the Darkstar’s armor, willing the fire of Heaven into his hands.

  “Do you feel it?” Aaron asked through gritted teeth.

  The Darkstar did not reply, and Aaron held on, letting the fire flow. The fire attacked the armor, the force of Heaven battling its dark opposite.

  The Darkstar’s armor began to crack, ragged holes appearing in his shell. His struggles intensified, but Aaron held on, tainting the Darkstar’s shield with the fires of divinity.

  An armored fist savagely struck his face, and Aaron’s mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. Another blow landed on his head, and Aaron himself began to slip from consciousness, but he managed to pull himself from the brink, remembering that this was the one who had killed Lorelei.

  Fists engorged with the fire of God, Aaron struck again and again against the black armor. Burning fissures spider-webbed across the ebony surface of his foe’s bodily protection.

  “Do yo
u feel it now?” Aaron asked the Darkstar, striking wherever the armor appeared weakest.

  The Darkstar flapped his black wings wildly in an effort to get away, but Aaron stuck to him like a tick. Aaron knew that this would be his only chance to take his enemy down.

  Aaron’s eyes locked upon those glaring out at him from behind the black helmet.

  Was that fear he saw there?

  Aaron experienced a sudden surge of strength, as if somehow feeding upon his enemy’s uncertainty, and lashed out with his burning fists, connecting once, twice, three times with the Darkstar’s covered face. The helmet cracked and started to smolder in places, and Aaron continued to strike at it, eager to reveal the monster behind it.

  The Darkstar grabbed hold of Aaron’s throat with sudden, deadly speed and began to squeeze.

  “A taste of your own medicine,” he growled from behind his broken mask.

  Aaron fought to breathe as a cloud of numbing shadow engulfed his face and head. It was like being wrapped in a nightmare. The black fire did not burn as it flowed up into his nose and squirmed between his lips and down his throat. But it stole the heat from his body.

  As the fire of Heaven burned away the sin of evil, this fire consumed the life-giving warmth of love and hope.

  It ate the soul.

  Thoughts of the end of all life filled Aaron’s mind, and he began to wonder what exactly he was fighting for. It seemed so pointless. The harder he fought—the harder the Nephilim all fought—the further they seemed from victory.

  The darkness was winning. Maybe this was the time to finally admit the truth: The Nephilim couldn’t fight the coming tide.

  Maybe it would be easier to let the darkness win.

  Maybe.

  Or maybe not.

  The darkness inside him squirmed against the divine fire. The black tried to suffocate the glow of Heaven, but the divine fire would not have it.

  The darkness tried to show the fire all the death and misery that had come as a result of its struggle, but the holy fire would not be swayed. This was but the price to keep the light of the divine burning.