Ancient Blood: The Fallen

by Renea Taylor

  I had to go after him, and I began to struggle against Sirrus, kicking and lashing out with my hands and feet until I left him with only two options, either release me or injure me in his effort to contain me, and as he at released me, I broke into a run screaming Dante's name as tears streamed down my cheeks, then suddenly my feet were no longer touching the ground, yet my legs still moved frantically in place as I fought the arms that encircled my waist as Arreon’s agonized cry of “Kira stop…” saturated the air, filling the space around us as my own echoing sobs of “nooo…I have to help him...” ripped from my lips, the forlorn cry a twin to the despair I felt in my soul as I whispered, “...I did this to him...”

  Yet more choking sobs filled my throat as I tried to make him understand, to make him see, but wrapping me tighter within his arms, Arreon turned me until he was looking down at me and husked, “Kira, that wasn't Dante...it was Jabar.”

  Chapter 20

  Hours later I jerked awake, and into a sitting position, then pulling my knees to my chest I wrapped my arms around them, shivering with nerves and pain.

  My back was aching from where it had impacted the tree, and I felt a tear overflow the barrier of my bottom lid where it trickled down my cheek, as I wondered at the dream.

  It had been years since I’d been plagued with nightmarish images. However, tonight they'd returned, though more a prophecy than dream, for in it I had stood before a golden light as a voice within the glow quoted words from the Book of Enoch, “no angel hinders, and no power is able to hinder, for He appoints a judge for them all and He judges them all before him.”

  I sat breathing in and out, for I recognized the words and their meaning, a meaning that sent a shiver down my back.

  Shaking off the nagging persistence of the dream, and its import…that I, nor anyone but the utmost of immortal’s could help Dante, I stood and began to make my way out of the room.

  I’d been brought back too hallowed ground less than six hours earlier, having felt quite idiotic upon my return to learn that, though twenty some odd hours had passed since I’d left, I’d been going in circles, never actually further than an hours journey away.

  Yet in a way, I was thankful to be back, for I sensed Gran could give me answers to the questions I held. Only it was not I that found him, rather he that came to me.

  As standing within the middle of the cluttered room, I let my senses, another new ability I had recently acquired, feel for his presence, only to realize that I need search no further, as he stood silently observing me from the doorway.

  His wrinkled features wore a sense of pride as he gazed in my direction, before finally murmuring “your powers are growing stronger” then “worry not so much my child, for not all is as lost as it seems.”

  Then turning, he made his way over to a small bookshelf that sat nearly hidden behind a mound of debris, and unhesitatingly pulled forth a small, leather bound journal that, even to my untrained eye, bespoke of great age.

  As he placed the journal within my hands, he waved his own over it, stating, “you shall find it in a language you are capable of reading, when you have finished, I will answer what questions I can” then turning he quietly exited the room.

  I quickly followed Gran’s departure, and made my way back to my own room, noting that it was still night as the sun had yet to rise.

  Softly closing the door behind me, I settled onto the bed then gently opening the journal, I began to read the words before me, “My name is Karia and in the beginning, the people of the great landmass called Atlantis were a peaceful race, their way of living reflecting this as they supplied themselves with only what was needed to sustain life.

  However, they have come to owe what they became to that of fallen Immortals, to those who came unto the plains of earth.

  Immortals that allowed themselves to be led by the ways of the flesh, leaving their spiritual shape to take on the shell of the human body, rushing the natural progression of the people by mating with them, and enabling them to become awakened, or rather illuminated with the teachings of how to use the land and objects upon it for the making and the use of weapons, such as knives, swords, and shields.

  It was the Fallen as well that taught the people of how to devise ornaments and cosmetics.

  Of how to read the stars and the signs of the clouds, of ways to capture the light of the sun so that night burned nearly as bright as day, and for many generations the people lived in harmony with the fallen Immortals.

  Yet corruption and jealousy came about within the people, strife that turned man against man, son against father and daughter against mother, creating a warlike existence within a people that had before, only been peaceful.

  Now, many, many generations have come and gone since those days, and man has once again populated what had been scoured clean by a purge upon the land by water. Yet, just the same as before, there occurred another eruption of the fallen Immortals, and though this time smaller in number and area, evil has again found its way and spreads quickly among the people…”

  Here I paused and drew a breath rubbing at my eyes, for though I was beyond interested, my eyes were betraying me in there want to close as reading always tired me.

  Smothering a yawn, I noted the sun shining through the window and wondered at the time, for here on the hallowed ground there were no clocks. If one were curious of the time, they simply used the sun or the moon's movement within the heavens for judgment.

  Then, giving a shrug, as I was too lazy to step to the window and check, I lowered my head and begun again to read. “I have been…captured…by the dark ones, for I am of the blood of Uriel, the flame god, an angel of magic and alchemy, an archangel that stands next to the throne of God. I was taken because I have the ability to use a book…a book of power.

  A book that is coveted by the fallen Immortals, for it carries within it the power to bring about the ruination of the light Gods, as within its depths lies an invocation that would give the leader of dark angels, Sataniel, the ability to become a very powerful God again…possibly even…a supreme God…”

  Here it appeared the story ceased, yet, after flipping a few pages I again found writing, its very wording indicating that months had passed since the previous entry.

  “Though I know a way is being sought to save me, my faith grows weary, for I have been used as a breeder, and even as I write these words my stomach grows large with a dark one. Though I hate calling it such, I cannot call it anything else, be that the seed of a fallen conceived it.

  Yet I find, despite this fact, I cannot hate it, as I have carried it and nourished it within my womb…and though I know the Book Of Invocations can be used to help this dark child…the book must remain lost…”

  The tale ended there, and I flipped further into the journal, hoping to find more, disappointed to find there was no more, as the rest of the pages were empty.

  * * *

  As before, Gran came to me, as if the ancient being carried an uncanny knack of knowing, or maybe it was anticipating of when I would be in need of him, and it seemed this time was no different.

  We met for the second time that day in the room I'd dubbed the debris field, a nick name that I was almost positive he was aware of, for as he entered the room, his eyes made a quick sweep of its contents, then shifting them in my direction, he smirked, his toothless grin curving up the edges of his lips before taking up whistling a tuneless ditty, he shuffled his way across the rooms crowded floor.

  As he drew to a stop before the desk that sat centered within the room, I found myself blurting, “can the book the journal spoke of be used to help Dante?”

  At my words, Gran penned me beneath his gaze as he murmured, “I've heard it's possible...but I've only seen it fail...”

  * * *

  Days later, I, along with Arreon, Sirrus, Heather and twenty others, were again contending with the brush and the humidity of the jungle, and as before, it was not for adventure, not for excitement.

  Rather
more a…mission…a mission for an item of great value…no, maybe not monetarily, but nonetheless of great worth, for we were in search of a city, a city that supposedly once existed on the southern Amazonian flat lands.

  A city that, according to a transcription on some tablet Gran had told us about, had spoken of a book…a book of great power… a the book I sought desperately.

  Mile after mile we trudged, hacking and whacking through the brush as onward we went, sick from insect bites and half insane from the fact we’d been following the river on foot for the last several days, unable to find a crossing that wasn’t an eddy of impassable rapids.

  Finally uttering a harsh expletive, Arreon called a stop to the insanity, staring pensively at the river.

  Several huge logs came riding down the current, tossing about in the frothing water like match sticks as they bobbed in and out of the depths in a wild competition of mastery, then, slamming against submerged rocks they sunk beneath the rioting water, before popping back up as they shot into the air again with a violent thrust as, slamming back into the water once more, and accompanied by a roar of anger, they started the duel all over again.

  Watching this ensue Arreon hissed, “the only goddamn way we’re going to get across this blasted river is by raft and a prayer.”

  However, the next several hours were spent with gathering hemp from within the jungle, and several more followed as the fibers were separated and cut into lengths, which were then folded in half and secured onto the jungle floor with a sturdy stick.

  From there, with a portion of the fiber gripped within each hand, the strands were twisted clockwise until the cords began to kink and loop, continuing to be pulled tight and wrapped one over the other in a counter-clockwise motion until a rope was formed, the task being completed by the ends secured into a knot.

  Afterward, Sirrus, having made a lariat from the rope he’d created, stood near the bank of the river, as Arreon and several others flanked him, taking up slack as they prepared for the powerful tug of a log that was soon to come careening down the river.

  When it finally made its appearance, bucking and jumping within the current, Sirrus, with a powerful thrust, tossed the rope, securing the logs capture within the noose he’d made, as the others tied the other end of the rope around a huge tree.

  Then, all began hand over hand to tug at its girth, channeling the logs direction before finally landing it on the bank at their feet.

  I watched the process repeat itself several more times, until at least half a dozen logs graced the bank before they were roped together, creating a platform that, though primitive, nonetheless formed a raft. Pushing the crudely constructed vessel within the rapidly boiling water with ropes holding it tethered to the bank, Sirrus and Arreon eased their way across the rafts girth, then took up residence on the front portion, as two more took to the back.

  Then it was my and another persons turn, and we took to the middle, as those left on bank and awaiting their turn to cross for safety purposes, began to untether the raft so that it could float freely within the river.

  However, no more had the ropes been loosened, than the raft was jerked into the boiling cauldron of rapids, where it lurched and became precariously unbalanced.

  The four pole-men were forced to work furiously to gain some form of control, and the raft, barely having been righted, soon lurched again within the rioting rapids.

  I found myself stumbling towards the side of the raft and, as if the river desired a mating between flesh and fluid, forced the raft to give a huge buck, tossing me over the rafts side where I plunged within the waters depths.

  Immediately the force of the current sucked me under before spitting me out again. The roar of the rapids voice nearly drowned out the anxious cries from Arreon and the others as they frantically tried to spot me within the foaming current that pulled me downstream where, swallowing mouthfuls of the foul tasting river, I gulped at the air.

  Frantically I pulled in a lungful before I was again sucked under to repeat the process, as I went around the bend of the river.

  Spotting a huge tree branch as it came swirling by, I used the last of my strength to lunge towards it, thankful it wasn’t so large that I couldn’t grasp around its girth as, exhausted, I clung for dear life, unable to do anything else but let the river pull my listless body along.

  How long I floated in this manner, I had no clue, but could tell my strength was dwindling, and the ache within my limbs inferred it had been hours.

  As I floated helplessly along, the jungle to either side of the river became shrouded in the darkness of nightfall, and I could feel my grip on the branch weakening.

  Struggling to keep my hold on its girth, I uttered a soft cry as the limb rotated beneath my hands and arms, the current pulling at my body, ripping loose my hold. Floundering as I found myself suddenly adrift within the boiling flow of the river, I again felt the current sucking me under before it slammed my exhausted body against a huge rock.

  My mouth automatically opened as I cried out in pain, and the water I'd tried so desperately to keep out, came rushing in, filling my mouth and nose with its vile liquid as the searing heat of my lungs revealed the fact I was drowning.

  Soon the black inkiness of unconsciousness lay its claim upon me.

  * * *

  I regained consciousness with the jarring reality that I was lying on my stomach, wearing soaked clothing and enduring a rhythmic pumping between my shoulder blades as a voice behind me barked, “breath damn you…breath…”

  Suddenly water surged forth into my throat, and burnt a path with its upward movement until it spewed out my mouth, as coughing, I managed to gasp out, “what the hell you trying to do, finish me off?”

  The hands that had been applying pressure on my back were jerked away, and I rolled, slowly sitting up as I gripped my head in between my hands for, though I breathed, I wasn’t so certain I wanted to, as the throbbing within my head was almost unbearable. Raising my hands, I gently began to rub at my temples, wincing with the action, as voice raw from all the water I’d swallowed, I croaked, “if you're not Dante again, then just go ahead and take me to hell, cause I don't have the energy...”

  However my words were interrupted as Dante's image roared, “who the hell else would it be, and why in the fuck were you trying to cross a damn river!”

  I felt myself let out a relieved breath, for I now held no doubt this was Dante standing before me, as only he could make me this angry, this rapidly.

  Lowering my hands, I glared at him, for his raised voice was making the sledgehammer pounding madly within my head that much worse, and I hissed sarcastically, “why does anyone try to cross a river…to get to the other side!”

  Brows slamming down over his eyes in a good imitation of a woolly worm, Dante hissed, “very fucking funny!”

  Then slowly enunciating each word with anger he spat “and just what the hell was on the other side of the river that is so goddamn important you nearly died over it?”

  The sledgehammer had slowed its tortures blows, easing the throbbing to something that was nearer the point of uncomfortable, and quarrelsome at the fact it hadn’t let go completely, as well as at his tone, I hissed, “your salvation maybe?”

  Then, and though my eyes and body cried for rest, my frame tightened as I found myself quickly stunned to the point of incredulity when Dante only exhaled air out his nostrils as, without a word, he clamped his lips together, jaw taut and pulsing from grinding his teeth with some emotion he turned his back to me.

  Then, after taking several steps in the opposite direction, he snarled “and what makes you think I want saving, besides, it's not possible.”

  Slowly, gazing at his back, I whispered, “but it is!”

  After a few seconds, and with voice stronger I murmured, “there's a book Dante…”

  However my words were interrupted by his lashed words of “no, I don't want to be saved, end of subject!”

  I gave a vigorous shake of my
head as anger infused my body and I hissed, “then I can only conclude you’re a damn fool…”

  “Yeah…I guess that’s what I am, now forget the whole idiotic idea and get your ass back to hallowed ground!” he snapped in my direction.

  Glaring at him I hissed, “that’s not going to happen! It’s my fault you’re...changing...and I'm going to find that book, and fix what I did to you!”

  Drawing to his full, intimidating height, Dante bellowed, “like hell you will!”

  Stepping forward I reached out, and poking him in the chest hissed, “you may be bigger than I am, and you may be stronger than I am, and yes, you may even be turning into a…demon…but you don't scare me! I’m going to save your sorry ass, and you can't stop me!”

  Glaring back at Dante as he stood glaring at me, I spat “now get the hell out of my way” then, pushing around him, I made to stomp off.

  However, I was forced to a complete stand still when I heard Dante’s low murmur of, “you don't think I can stop you?” then, “what you wanna bet I can come up with a way...or two?”

  Suddenly the small space of ground between us was no obstacle for Dante as, turning he overcame it with two strides, and I found myself being pulled into him, and that's when it hit me, what my senses had been trying to tell me, the smell of cookies had been missing with Jabar!

  Yet the thought quickly escaped me, as he nestled against me, chest to back, the heavy, tight denim of his jeans doing nothing to hide the blatant fact he was aroused, his cock pressing against my ass with proud admission as a growl escaped from his lips.

  I felt him move against me, at first just a slight thrust, then more insistent as if his hips had taken on a mind of their own, and a slight strangled sound escaped from deep within him as, again he thrust against me.

  I felt myself grow damp, wet with need, and I began to whimper, for the scent of his arousal was growing stronger.

  The scent seduced my senses, causing my breasts to swell, nipples to harden, a warm, throbbing ache to infuse between my thighs.