Alan Price and the Statue of Zeus (The Nephilim Chronicles Book 3)

by Jonathan Yanez

  “I see you found a suit of armor small enough for you, little brother,” Cratos said turning a corner. The minotaur had spent the time equipping himself with dark green armor that started at his shoulders and continued down to end in a metal skirt. His head was free of any helm, leaving the thick horns protruding from his skull free to be used as weapons.

  Alan ignored the jab and instead looked to Raphael for the cue to be on their way. Raphael took his glance with a nod of his own. “One last thing, Alan. Do not be so impetuous. I want to free Kassidy as badly as you. But we will be hard-pressed to do this without weapons.”

  Cratos cocked his head to the side and motioned to them to follow. “Weapons you say, Archangel? Well, the minotaurs are masters at forging steel. Please allow me.”

  Alan and Raphael followed Cratos to a corner of the large building where an entire section was dedicated to every kind of weapon fathomable. It was clear to see the workmanship of each piece was beyond a simple blacksmith. Even with Alan’s limited understanding of weaponry, he could tell these weren’t only weapons; they were works of art.

  Cratos wasted no time. As if his mind was already made up before they entered the weapon area, he headed for a large piece that looked like a metal rod connected to an anvil. The minotaur hefted the weapon as if it were as light as a dagger. “I’ve made my choice. Horseman?”

  Alan looked around at the multitude of weapons to choose from. There were everything from single-handed swords and spears he recognized to weapons like whips and nets he had no idea how to wield. One item more than any other captured his eyes. The metal was so well-oiled, it caught the last light of the dying sun and showed through the coming shadows of the night. It was a great sword that rested with its point on the earth. From tip to the base of the pommel, it was so long it reached Alan’s chest. Alan grasped for it and tested its weight. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather and ancient runes were written on the pommel.

  The weapon felt light despite the mass as Alan leaned in closer to try to catch any familiar symbol on the runes. “It says, ‘Only the strong’,” Cratos explained. “It is a good blade. I think it will serve you well.”

  “Shall we?” Alan and Cratos looked over to Raphael. The once leader of the Archangel corps looked back at them as he placed a golden helm on his head. His free hand held a trident as tall as he was, its silver and gold adorned with carvings of gigantic waves and mythological sea creatures.. Three sharp prongs all as long as daggers topped the weapon. “It’s not my own, but it will do the job.”

  Chapter 22

  Seraphim and her Death Angels made quick work of the Fallen and their Nephilim that had yet to make it into the relative safety of Golgotha. In Michael’s eyes, Seraphim took too much pleasure in slaying those unwilling to surrender. She also did not try to persuade them to lay down their arms. Her warning was spoken once and then followed by a quick death.

  There was only so much Michael could do to control Seraphim’s wrath. An attack on the fortress was approaching quickly. Even now, the moon was beginning to dominate the sky and stars twinkled as if in anticipation of blood.

  Michael walked in his own silver armor back and forth through the line of soldiers. His eyes roved between his own men and the tiny dots that marked enemy sentries on the wall. Gabriel, how many will die in your vain grasp for power? Michael thought. He knew even if the answer to his question was a single life, it was too many.

  His heart weighed a hundred pounds as he readied himself for the battle to come. A life as any kind of angel—Fallen or other—meant an eternity to know and respect your own race. Every face that nodded back to him or smiled as he walked through the ranks, he recognized as a friend. The same went for his enemies those he would kill that day he would know.

  Michael welcomed the voice yet dreaded the words as Esther and Angelica approached from deep within the camp. “Soldiers are placed and ready,” Esther said.

  Angelica, as acting leader of the human Nephilim, also gave her report. “The Nephilim unit is in the rear as ordered, waiting for your command to move into position.” Angelica hesitated moving a strand of rogue blonde hair behind her right ear, “And, Michael, if I may?”

  “Of course,” Michael said, “What is it?”

  “I understand your concern about involving Nephilim in this fight. In spite of this, we deserve a place on the battlefield just as much as you. This is what we believe in. If dying for the Light to stop a madman is our end, then so be it.”

  Michael hid his shock and likewise his approval. The last thing he expected was for the Nephilim to demand a place beside the angels on the frontline. In times like these, friends were the greatest things Michael could hope to have standing beside him. “Your words are accepted with thanks, Angelica. And to my chagrin, I’m sure you will be seeing action before the night is over.”

  Angelica nodded, pleased without showing any sign of happiness on her face.

  The trio was interrupted by a rush of wings as Seraphim descended beside them with a harsh landing. “Night has come. Let us be done with this.”

  “Are your Death Angels in position?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then this is what we will do …”

  ---

  Michael refused to be anywhere but in the frontlines with his soldiers. He relied on his captains to carry out their orders as instructed. As much as he respected Seraphim and her clan of Death Angels, he could never be certain she would do as told. Even now as they prepared for the main assault on Golgotha, Michael was saying a silent prayer for Seraphim to reign in her anger.

  Michael placed his silver helm on his head. Then he channeled his unique gift. Electricity began to snap and spark at his hands. His soldiers formed ranks behind him as he stared at the castle’s main gate. So far, Gabriel had shown no aggression. Fires burned on the ramparts with dark figures outlining guards but that was all.

  As the energy built and began to form in the palms of his hands, Michael found his thoughts turning to Ardat. As he cleared his mind and prepared for the fight to come, Alan and Raphael’s absence struck him. We can’t wait any longer, Michael told himself for the hundredth time. We must strike now.

  Michael gathered his power as a long lightening bolt formed in his right hand. It was his signature weapon, which had eraned him the name Zeus during the Greek uprising. His soldiers cheered for him as he took the battlefield. The noise of so many shouting throats and stomping feet drowned out any other competing sound.

  Michael lifted the crackling lightening bolt high over his head as he shouted. “I’ve lived for an eternity, I’ve traveled the four corners of our supernatural plane and that of the human world. The one thing that I have learned is that everything happens for a reason.” Michael paused to look behind him and gaze soldiers in the eyes.

  The corps of the angelic army beat their shields and breastplates as he continued. “We are all here for a reason. It is not chance that brings us to the doorstep of Golgotha on this day. And if it is our day to die for what we believe, then so be it. But I promise you this! The Light has never fallen before and I—we will not be the ones to see it tumble into darkness! Are you with me?”

  A roar shook the ground under Michael’s feet. Michael’s eyes searched the crowd for his captains; Esther, Angelica and Seraphim all nodded back with determined looks of their own.

  Satisfied his plans were laid as best as they could be, Michael turned towards the black gates of Golgotha. A steady run ate up the distance between his forces and the Fallen behind the fortress walls. With each step forward, Michael anticipated seeing an alteration in the scene. He wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, nevertheless he was sure Gabriel would not surrender gently. The gates loomed ahead as Michael prepared himself to dodge either physical or supernatural projectiles. Still nothing.

  The only noises were those of the soldiers behind him. No shouts echoed from the watchtowers; no screams of the impending attack. Michael knew Gabreil’s lack of a defense was all wr
ong but still what was he to do? Stay and wait? No, that was what Gabriel wanted. Gabriel needed more time to recover. Michael would not give him the satisfaction. Still fifty yards from the main gate, Michael planted his left foot forward and braced himself for the throw.

  The lightening bolt in his hand was comfortable. He embraced it just as he had hundreds of time before. It felt like second nature as Michael roared for the assault to begin, “Now!”

  With every ounce of strength, using all of the skill learned over his lifetime Michael flung the lightning bolt forward. The missile traversed the distance from his hand to the gigantic twin gates faster than even the supernatural eye could track. The bolt collided with the gates with a resounding boom. Esther and Seraphim took their soldiers to the air.

  In a rush of flapping wings, Seraphim’s eleven Death Angels and the hundreds of warriors under Esther’s command lifted from the ground and began their aerial assault on Golgotha. As much as Michael would have liked to join them, he had a much bigger task. Most of the Nephilim under Angelica’s command could not fly. This meant their only chance at entering the battle and tipping the scales in the Light’s favor was for Michael to batter down the gates.

  His first bolt hit its mark and the gates quivered with the shock but held. Michael gritted his teeth as he formed two more lightening rods, one in each hand. His wings ruffled out behind him to add their strength to his cause. Again and again Michael hurled his weapons against the gates. With each strike, a thunderous crash rose above the shouts of war, reducing them to a whisper in its wrath. It wasn’t long before the gates began to weaken, the doors twisted and metal bent under the force of Michael’s attack. Finally, Michael’s fifth attempt brought the gates down.

  Perspiration hindered his vision, still Michael could see the gates groan and topple. Another shout, now from the Nephilim, joined the sounds of battle as they surged forward.

  Tired but eager to join his forces inside the fortress, Michael accompanied them as they ran. Even as they entered the massive courtyard that lay inside Golgotha’s outer wall, there was no resistance. A sick feeling began to twist and turn inside Michael’s stomach as he accepted the idea that this had all been a ruse. One elaborate scheme to lure them inside; to what end, Michael was unsure.

  Black towers loomed above them as they made their way to the inner keep. Shouts and war cries that filled the air only moments before gave way to an eerie stillness. Soldiers ran in every direction looking for the enemy to no avail. Adrenaline the promise of war brought was slowly beginning to sap dry as no enemies were found.

  Michael ignored all the questioning looks as he made his way to the front of the army. Esther and Seraphim were conferring at the base of the keep. “Is there any sign of the enemy?” Michael asked. “What of the guards we saw on top of the wall when we attacked?”

  Esther shrugged in dismay, “They either fled into this keep as fast as we came at them or it was all an illusion to begin with.”

  Seraphim sneered and spat with disgust, “What a coward. If he is in here, let us go and dig the rat out of his hole.”

  Michael looked up as the keep doors burst open. Gabriel strode out as if he were expecting guests for dinner. “I’ll save you the trouble, Seraphim.”

  ---

  Gabriel wore a long black cloak with dull metal armor underneath. A circular amulet hung from his neck on a leather band. He was not quite the picture of youth and strength Michael was used to seeing. Grey hair weaved in and out of his dark locks and a few extra wrinkles added their influence to his agedness. He was recovering quickly. Even now he could be near full strength once again.

  Every soldier around the keep lifted his or her weapon against the Fallen Archangel with uncertainty. Even Seraphim seemed unsure what to do. Her sword was drawn and ready for anything, still she waited. “Surrender, Gabriel,” Michael said as he took a step forward, “this is over. Even with the power of two Archangels, you cannot stand alone against an army.”

  Gabriel looked at Michael with a grin. “I’m sure Ardat ran straight to you, didn’t she?” Gabriel refused Michael the courtesy of a reply as he continued. “I knew she was with you when she came to me. I could practically still smell the love she has for you on her.. Brother, you must know I saw this all coming and I have planned for it as such.”

  Michael felt goosebumps begin to prickle his skin, “Talk all you want, Gabriel, but this is over.”

  “Is it?” Gabriel mocked, “But it’s only just beginning, Michael. In fact, I would say the board is more even than ever.”

  “Enough with your lies and riddles,” Seraphim yelled as she lunged toward Gabriel, “Die!”

  Gabriel lifted a hand catching Seraphim midair. An invisible grip like some unseen giant clutching her in its fist held her in place. Everyone circled Gabriel brandishing steel. Michael willed another lightening bolt as long as a spear into his right hand.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” Gabriel warned, “I could snap her neck in a moment if I choose. All I want is a civil conversation.”

  Michael weighed his odds. Vastly outnumbered, Gabriel would kill Seraphim then be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. But could Michael trade Seraphim’s life for that of his enemy?

  “Do—it,” Seraphim managed to gasp as she remained hovering in the night air.

  “He won’t,” Gabriel said smiling at Seraphim like a Cheshire cat. “Not the mighty and righteous Michael.”

  “Say what you want to say then,” Michael said spitting out the words in disgust.

  “Oh yes, well, I imagine you are under the assumed pretense I am outnumbered and out-powered when in reality that fact is actually false. I am now in a better place than I once was. You’ve brought my army to me and with the a Horseman under my control, I’m as powerful as ever.”

  Gabriel’s words hung in the air like a thick cloud. Everyone heard his words yet they made no sense. Michael found himself sifting through Gabriel’s scheme searching for answers as he held his rival’s eye. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach hit Michael. Could Gabriel be telling the truth?

  “You lie,” Esther said edging forward. Her shield was up in a protective guard covering her body; her sword was pointed at the Fallen Archangel with menace. “Alan would never serve you.”

  Gabriel laughed out loud. The melody of genuine joy that passed through his lips made the noise all the more disturbing. “Alan?” Gabriel asked finally releasing Seraphim from his invisible hold and tossing her to the side. “Alan had his opportunity. There is more than one Horseman.” Gabriel shook his head, “And, no, I do not mean the girl either. A third Horseman has been right underneath your nose this entire time and you delivered him to me like a present.”

  Michael’s mind churned with the new information. Even as he grasped Gabriel’s meaning, he struggled with how it could be true.

  “Oh, that’s right, Michael,” Gabriel said as he motioned with his arm towards the open doors of the keep, “He was with you the entire time but you were too infatuated with Alan and then Ardat to see. I was the one that gave him instruction and I was the one that was there for him during his transition from Nephilim to Horseman.”

  Michael’s heart felt as though it was sinking in his chest as a figure exited the keep and joined the crowded courtyard. The only light was provided by the moon, stars and a few lighted braziers placed around the courtyard; it was still enough to make out Kyle’s familiar form.

  ---

  Red flashes streaked over his body as Kyle walked towards Gabriel. Soldiers stood stunned then created a walkway for him. Red wings that looked like a mixture of fire and dark crimson light shot from his back. His face was a wreckage of cuts and bruises.

  Gabriel smiled and a moved a hand to clutch the trinket on his neck. His protégé walked to stand beside him. It was clear to everyone hate was in Kyle’s eyes. The man they once knew was gone and now a shadow stood in his place. Even from where he stood, Michael could feel the heat emanating off Kyle in strong waves.r />
  “Kyle,” Michael found his voice, “what has he done to you?”

  “Done?” Kyle’s voice came back strained and weary, “Done? Gabriel has shown me the truth. He’s given me the attention I deserve. The time of day you should have shown me instead of wasting on Alan.”

  “No,” Michael said in a harsh whisper, “no, Kyle, he’s manipulated you.”

  “Enough,” Kyle said shaking where he stood as he pointed an accusing finger at first Michael then making his way around the gathered group of warriors. “I know what you have all done. You’ve pushed me to the side and latched onto Alan like he was some lost puppy. I needed you; I needed you all.”

  Kyle took the time to glare at Seraphim, Esther and Angelica, and then searched the faces of gathered supernaturals for whom Michael could only suppose was Danielle. Kyle abandoned his attempt in the space of a few seconds of silence. Kyle was twisted from the inside out. Whatever Gabriel had done to him was clearly implemented on a psychological level.

  “Well, then,” Gabriel spread his arms wide, “shall we begin?”

  Michael looked at his Fallen counterpart with righteous indignation. “You’ve twisted him, Gabriel, let him go. Whatever you have done to him, stop this now.”

  A wicked smile spread across Gabriel’s lips, “Oh, brother,” he said as he gripped the amulet lying around his neck with his right hand, “this is just the beginning.”

  Ancient words that Michael did not understand began to fall from Gabriel’s tongue in a quick chant. “Stop him now!” Michael shouted, reaching back and sending a tendril of electricity shooting in the air towards Gabriel.

  Everyone acted at once. Seraphim, now able to move, was in the lead again. She charged forward with her extended blade. Before Seraphim or even Michael’s lightening bolt could find its mark, Kyle moved to act. Wrapping both his red wings around Gabriel, he formed a tight protective cocoon around the Fallen angel.