Danielle said all of this in one breath. “I’m fine,” Alan said as Seraphim and Cratos lowered him onto the cot. “But what happened to the others? Where’s Michael?” Alan felt a sense of panic wash over him as he searched the open tent without seeing any of the faces he searched for. “What happened to Raphael, Gabriel and Kyle?”
Danielle opened her mouth and closed it again. Cratos began slowly taking off Alan’s armor to avoid the question. “Raphael and Gabriel have been unconscious since the blast that ended the battle. Kyle fled with Triana and the remaining Fallen and Michael—we haven’t found Michael’s body.”
Alan sat shocked on his white-clothed bed. Any pain that tingled through his frame was minimal compared to the news. The desire to find Michael filled him stronger than any other emotion. Alan struggled to rise off the bed as everyone pushed him back down. “I need to find him,” Alan said through watering eyes. “We all need to find him now.” Images of Gabriel blasting Michael back and sending him careening into a stone wall flashed in front of Alan’s eyes. An avalanche of rocks buried the Archangel. Alan pushed against Seraphim and Cratos’ strong arms as he thrashed back and forth trying to right himself. The pain was too much for his body to endure. The last thing Alan remembered before he traveled into the open arms of unconsciousness again was Seraphim and Cratos holding him down and Danielle crying.
---
When Alan woke again, it was nothing like coming back to his senses on the battlefield. Instead of dirt beneath him and the murmurs of the dying, Alan was in a tent. It was small but served its purpose. Alan was lying on a bed with a table beside him; near the entrance to his tent, Cratos sat staring at him sitting rigid on a chair.
Waking to the sight of the gigantic minotaur almost sent Alan searching for a sword. Instead of finding a blade, Alan caught Cratos’ eye. Events came back to Alan as he struggled to sit up. Pain was still present and reminded Alan of its company every time he breathed. The level of discomfort was nothing compared to the possibility of losing a friend. A white bandage wrapped around Alan’s chest and torso and hindered his range of motion as he finally came to a full sitting position.
Alan and Cratos stared at one another for a long time. Alan didn’t want to know what happened to Michael; somehow he already did.
“Danielle healed you as best she could,” Cratos said. “Your skin is as tough as steel but Gabriel’s blow broke your sternum and sent a portions of your ribs loose in your chest. You’ll heal fine; still even for you, it will take time.”
Alan accepted the news without giving his own wellbeing a second thought. “How,” Alan stopped to lick his lips and gain the strength he needed to force out the question. “How has the search for Michael gone?”
Cratos slowly shook his horned head. “He’s gone, Alan. We’ve searched for him in every corner of the courtyard. We removed every piece of stone that piled on after Gabriel struck him and he’s not there.”
“How can that be? I saw him. We all saw him hit that wall. We all saw him buried by the falling rocks.”
Cratos shrugged, “He’s just not there.”
Alan felt his face redden as he gained his balance on unsteady feet. “Gabriel did something. He knows. We have to find out what he’s done.”
“Perhaps,” Cratos said standing. His twin ivory horns brushed the ceiling of the tent as he clenched and re-clenched his hand that wore a similar white bandage to Alan’s own. “But even if Gabriel and Raphael were not still in a catatonic state, now is not the time for questioning our captives. You have a much bigger problem to worry about.”
“What are you talking about?”
Cratos swept the tent curtains aside with one massive arm and revealed the state of the angelic army. Alan felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. Just when he didn’t think things could possibly get any worse, the massive army that had assaulted Golgotha was now a fraction of its size. No more than a hundred tents were being deconstructed around him as once again the army was being ordered to move out.
Amongst the struggle that was mobilizing a wounded army, Alan picked out Seraphim’s black and grey wings. She was speaking with Esther only a few tents down. As the women looked up, they caught Alan’s eye and walked over. To say that both women looked tired would have been a disservice to their state. Alan felt guilty to have rested for any amount of time while others struggled on.
Esther had bags under eyes and looked as if she would fall over at any moment. Seraphim’s eyes were red and it didn’t look like she had taken a moment to rest. Blood still spattered her armor and her hair was a thick tangle of red. “You seem to be looking better,” Seraphim said.
“I am. I want to help. Where do you need me?”
“Normally, I would insist you rest,” Esther said as she rubbed weariness from her eyes, “but we need all the help we can get. Sodom’s army has been spotted approaching from the West. We need to mobilize and make it back to the safety of the Temple before they arrive. We are in no condition to fight another battle.”
At once, Alan understood the stakes. If they were attacked now, they would be routed without a doubt.
---
The slow pace their army was forced to travel was beyond agonizing. The angels who could fly were sent ahead of the main force carrying as many of the wounded as possible. The plan was to keep the bulk of their army on foot and send the angels still capable of flight back and forth until all were safely under the roof of the Temple.
Alan refused to be transported and instead waited in the rear of army. If Sodom’s forces were going to catch up to the retreating angel army, then Alan would buy them some time. Despite his injured state, he refused any assistance to walk. Cratos stayed by his side as the shambles of the angel-army continued their pilgrimage to safety. “I could carry you and save you the discomfort of walking,” Cratos said.
Alan grimaced, as a misstep sent another stab of pain through his chest, “Don’t be so eager to carry me. It’s weirding me out.”
Cratos looked as him with unblinking eyes. All philosophies of a joke lost on the minotaur, he restated his intention. “You are bound to the minotaurs after giving your word to the Queen. I also am bound to see you to safety, little brother.”
Alan waved off his concern with an outstretched hand. “No, I won’t leave the army now when they need us the most. If Sodom’s forces catch up to us, then it’s up to me.”
“You mean it’s up to us,” Seraphim said as she swooped down and took a position to Alan’s left. Her black and metal wings rested on her back for only a moment before they receded into her shoulder blades.
“Yes,” Alan said grateful for the opportunity to see Seraphim again, “it will be up to us. Have you heard any word on the search for Michael? Or the status on Raphael and Gabriel?”
“No, there has been no sign of Michael. The spell-laden emblem Gabriel used, however, has been found. It was shattered. As far as we know, it holds no more power. Esther has it under guard for safekeeping. Raphael and Gabriel are still both in a coma.” Seraphim’s next words came out laced with pain and sorrow. “The Death Angels are no more. They were either killed in the fight or driven mad by what Gabriel did to their minds.”
“I’m sorry,” Alan wished he had something better to say. The words seemed like a weak response for the loss Seraphim must have been enduring. Along with his sadness, Alan was struck by how well Seraphim was taking the loss. Her usual fiery temper was gone and in its place a lonely sense of defeat.
“So am I,” Seraphim said. A single tear gathered in her eye and slid down her right cheek.
Alan decided to brave Seraphim’s wrath as he extended a hand and gripped her own. Cratos mumbled something and quickened his pace. Seraphim held on to Alan’s hand and squeezed as she laughed, “It seems awkwardness is not lost on the minotaur kind.”
“Sera,” Alan started seizing the opportunity, “I wanted to tell you—”
“No, Alan,” Seraphim said releasing his hand with a slow sh
ake of her head. “I shouldn’t give you hope. It would be cruel to lead you on to believe we can be anything other than fellow warriors.”
Alan felt his heart sink and his brow furrow, “What are you talking about?”
“Alan, I am an angel who has lived an eternity and will continue to do so unless I find my end in battle. You are a Horseman now but will again be a human when the final battle is fought and the one-thousand year choosing of the Four starts again. Whatever this is, it cannot work.”
“We can find a way.”
“No. So much calls for our attention now. To try to navigate a relationship would be selfish.”
Alan took a moment to think on her words. He wouldn’t give in that easily but he needed a way to make Seraphim see that despite their differences, they had a future. “Sera, what I feel for you isn’t a fleeting thing. It’s something much deeper.”
Alan watched Seraphim’s face for any sign that what he was saying was getting through to her. All she showed were stern eyes and a set jaw. “If what you speak is true,” Seraphim said unclenching her jaw, “then perhaps—”
Shouts of warning drowned out anything Seraphim was going to say. Alan hated the timing and audibly groaned. A quick look behind him showed all he needed to know. Still miles away but approaching quickly, a large mass surged towards their position.
---
“Go, go!” Alan shouted as he urged the remaining wounded angels and Nephilim forward. “The Temple is close!”
Alan ran, sweating from pain more than exertion, as he urged those in front of him to quicken their pace. It was a race where losing meant death. Sodom’s army was slowly advancing on their location. No matter how much Alan encouraged their party to move, they were too weak and slow to gain any ground.
Alan hated the idea looking back of every few minutes but he had to. Sooner or later, he would have to choose a place to make his stand. To his dismay, he knew Cratos and Seraphim would stand with him. Already Alan was trying to devise a plan that would force Seraphim to continue on with the army but nothing was coming to him.
Alan chanced another look over his shoulder. Sodom’s army of Fallen angels, spurred on by the whips of their masters, was almost within hearing distance. Already, the ground shook under the pounding of so many feet. Then Alan could hear them. Faint shouts and cries crossed the distance separating their parties.
Fear of the end gripped Alan’s heart. Not for his own safety, the Horseman within him relished the idea of a fight. The thing bothering Alan now was the possibility that his friends may not make it to the safety of the Temple despite his best efforts.
Then another cry, this time a cheer, ripped from the throats of the angelic army. Alan followed their line of sight as the peak of the Temple crested the next hill. Hope filled Alan’s heart as he ignored the violent pain in his chest and yelled again, “Run, we’re almost there, run!”
Minutes that felt like hours passed as Sodom’s army closed the distance. The enemy army also saw the Temple and realized their window of opportunity was quickly closing. The Temple was so close now, Alan could see the marble steps leading into the haven. A small figure of a girl waving them in also took shape. A smile formed on Alan’s face despite the circumstances.
Something whistled by his ear and hit the ground in front of him. Alan looked down to see a black arrow still vibrating from the force of the impact buried deep in the sand. Soon more arrows and javelins buried themselves around Alan. Cratos moved to help Alan, but Alan waved him off and pointed to wounded angels and Nephilim who were falling behind, “Help them!” Alan shouted as his blue wings sprouted from his back and formed a protective shield over his head and shoulders.
Cratos nodded as he grabbed a stumbling angel in his right hand and another in his left. His cargo looked alarmed at first then only slightly less concerned as Cratos ran for the Temple carrying them like children.
Arrows whistled around him, bouncing off his wings and hitting the ground in every direction. Alan’s heart pounded. There was no time to look behind him again. He could only assume how many yards separated them now. Whooping and blood-curling screams spurred Alan on. Alan saw a young woman fall in front of him and, without missing a step, Alan picked her up and continued to run.
Artemis was on the very first step to the Temple only yards away now. Her eyes shone pure white as her hands lifted to the sky and she spoke words Alan didn’t understand. As if she were reciting a spell in a different language, she chanted the alien phrase over and over again.
Between the pain, the adrenaline and his own exertion, Alan thought he would pass out at any moment. With one last leap, Alan propelled himself forward and twisted in midair. He landed on the Temple steps on his back, his cargo landing on top of him.
A deafening boom followed Alan’s narrow escape as the vanguard of Sodom’s army crashed against the protective barrier around the Temple. Artemis stood in place smiling at the gnashing and roaring army outside her walls. “That will hold them forever if need be,” Artemis said turning her back on the enemy and addressing the panting group of survivors behind her, “Welcome to the Temple of Artemis. Friends of the Light are most welcome to stay.”
The entire time Alan watched Artemis, her eyes remained pure white, almost shining as if some other form had possessed her body.
“Oh, it kinda creeps me out seeing her eyes like that,” Alan looked down to the woman he had scooped up and saved while running. Danielle adjusted crooked glasses and grinned back as she stood on unsteady legs and offered a hand to Alan. “I owe you one, Price. Thanks for the save.”
Alan grinned at his friend and accepted her hand. “Did everyone make it?”
“We are all safe thanks to your efforts,” Esther said joining Alan and Danielle. “But you must come quickly. I am afraid there is still no time to rest.”
Alan looked at Esther with a raised eyebrow. He was beyond exhausted; his chest felt as if it were in a trash compactor and his stomach was doing backflips in protest. “No time even to get something to eat?” Alan asked defeated.
“I’m afraid not,” Esther said as a shadow crossed her face, “Gabriel has awoken.”
---
“The chains holding him are tempered with Celestial Steel. Gideon retrofitted another one of his collars and guarantees that it will inhibit even Gabriel’s power. Artemis has him secured in the Temple’s strongest cell and I have a dozen of my best warriors watching him day and night.”
Esther continued to rattle off details of Gabriel’s imprisonment. All Alan could think of was his friends. Michael was dead, or at the very least lost. Raphael had not awoken from his coma and an army stood outside their Temple cutting them off from the outside world.
The weight of responsibility weighed heavily on Alan’s shoulders as he fought back the weariness he felt.
“Alan,” Esther’s voice cut through his thoughts like a blade, “are you listening?”
“Yes,” Alan lied, “sorry. Gabriel is awake and secured.”
Esther frowned as they wound their way through the Temple halls and descended yet another flight of stairs. “Yes, he is. After we find out what he knows, we have to figure out a way past Sodom’s army. Michael—Michael’s gone now and the burden of leadership falls to us.”
Alan could hear the fatigue in every word Esther spoke. He wished he had answers to help her; the unfortunate truth being that Alan was just as lost as Esther. With the angelic army decimated and the leaders of their force lost or gone, things were looking darker by the hour.
“Are you sure you wish to speak with him alone?” Esther asked as their path ended in front of a thick steel door guarded by a company of battle-hardened angels.
“Yes,” Alan said as the angels returned salutes with Esther and nods of respect to Alan. “He may give me some piece of information he wouldn’t otherwise.”
Esther frowned, “How so?”
“He wanted to recruit me to fight with him. Maybe I can use that to leverage informatio
n.”
“I understand. Just be careful Alan. He’s a master manipulator and will tell you anything to ensure his release.”
“I will.”
Alan walked forward as the angels guarding the cell parted for him. Two of the sentries reached into their long white cloaks and produced large stone keys. Together they inserted their keys into a set of locks and turned in unison.
Alan heard a series of tumblers clicking. The sound reminded him of distant rolling thunder. The air so deep in the Temple’s bowels was damp and clung to the roof of his mouth with every breath.
Slowly, the solid steel door to Gabriel’s cell drew open. The guards, along with Esther, unsheathed their weapons and readied for an attack. Nothing but a faint glow of torchlight fell through the open door.
Alan took a deep breath of the musty air and stepped inside. To his right and left torches were placed in holders along the stonewall. Directly in front of him, Gabriel was shackled to the far wall. Long chains connecting to his wrists and ankles gave him just enough leeway to lie down or relieve himself. He wore a dark grey, steel collar around his throat.
“I wondered when you’d come,” Gabriel said with a smile. Despite his ragged state, it seemed the Archangel was not willing to admit defeat yet. His hair was matted and his clothes singed and torched in a dozen different places yet still he held the air of a king.
“What did you do to Michael?” Alan asked.
Gabriel laughed out loud. His chuckle sounded almost painful as the sound drifted past his collar. “Come now. You already know what happened to Michael. And he should be the least of your worries. Three of the Four have been chosen. Your army is in shambles. You are hedged in on every side. The hour is late, Alan. Soon the fourth Horseman will be chosen and the conflict that arises every thousand years will be upon us.”
“The Apocalypse won’t happen,” Alan said with resolve. “even if the other three choose the side of the dark, or are manipulated or forced into doing so, I won’t.”
Alan Price and the Statue of Zeus (The Nephilim Chronicles Book 3) Page 18
