Last of the Nephilim

by Bryan Davis

  “She is.” As Abraham crouched close to Greevelow, his shivering eased. “We appreciate your help, especially in light of the conditions of our truce. Although we are far from home, we will gladly follow the river and avoid your master’s lands.”

  Greevelow stared at Abraham. Now illuminated by Acacia’s flame, his features clarified. His nose, bulbous and shiny, still emanated twin trails of wispy smoke. Blinking his two enormous black eyes and furrowing his ebony brow, he nodded. “This is wisdom.”

  “May we stay here until we are warm and dry?” Abraham asked.

  Greevelow nodded but said nothing.

  “I assume your people saw you leave with the horse. Will they ask questions?”

  “Questions? Yes.” He pointed at himself. “Answers? No.”

  Elam searched for a trace of a smile on Greevelow’s face, but his lips stayed taut. Every word eked out as if measured with a micrometer, and he seemed even more miserly with his emotions.

  Greevelow picked up his bag, rose to his feet, and walked away. Out of the darkness, his voice rode the cold wind. “Keep blanket.”

  “Do you want a ride home?” Dikaios called.

  Only a grunt drifted in on the breeze.

  As the roaring flood began to recede, Elam and Abraham plucked armfuls of reeds and piled them on the newly exposed sand. “Better to be close to the noise,” Abraham said, “in order to mask our conversation.”

  Acacia drew her body into a cross-legged position and held out two cabbage-sized balls of fire. With an underhanded toss, she threw them onto the reeds. The flames crawled across the wet fuel, sputtering and smoking, but they soon caught hold and created a modest blaze. Dikaios edged as close as he could, and Elam and Abraham joined him and Acacia to complete a circle around the fire.

  “Well,” Acacia said. “I didn’t even get a chance to thank him.”

  “All for the best.” Abraham stood and laid the blanket on Dikaios’s back. “The lowlands people are not accustomed to polite words. They don’t consider them necessary.”

  “I gathered that.” Elam rose to his feet and pulled his clothes away from his skin, flapping the material to help it dry. “So what now?”

  Abraham pointed toward the waterfall. “I had hoped to cross the mountain ridge bordering the north side of the Valley of Shadows in order to exit into the highlands, a region of hills and mountains we call Noah’s Landing. We would have come out just south of Mount Elijah and cut across the alpine territory of my own domain. It seems the river had other ideas and deposited us in Adam’s Marsh.

  “Still, this shouldn’t delay us too much. Ascending the ridge with all the shadow people around would have forced us to wait until dawn, and camping near the river would have been perilous. Now, we can depart whenever we feel warm, dry, and rested.”

  Dikaios shook a spray of droplets from his mane and pulled the blanket off his back with his teeth. Ambling closer to Acacia, he extended his head and dropped the blanket at her feet. “For the lady.”

  Elam scooped it up and laid it over her shoulders as he watched the flames’ reflections in the horse’s eyes. No doubt Dikaios had the same questions. Now that everyone had a chance to settle, it was time to ask them.

  Finding a stiff reed half-buried in the sand, Elam scooped it up and poked a glowing ember. “Now that we have a little time, can you tell me what’s going on? If I’m a warrior chief, what kind of war am I supposed to help with?”

  “A fair question.” Abraham draped his cloak over a stick he had pushed into the ground. “I already sang Enoch’s prophecy. Was there a part you didn’t understand?”

  Elam chuckled. “Merlin used to sing poems a lot like that one, and they weren’t always easy to interpret. Sometimes he would explain them, and sometimes he wouldn’t. But I don’t even remember enough of the one you sang to raise a question.”

  “Quite understandable. Enoch sang it to me at the dawning of every day, so it is embedded in my mind. I will repeat it for you, but without singing. After that frigid swim, I don’t think I could hold a note without shaking it to pieces.” He cleared his throat and spoke in a low tone.

  The tunnel leads a warrior chief,

  A youth with mystery in his eyes,

  With flames he walks to burn the chaff.

  A child he leads to silence lies.

  And once the hearts of gold he trains

  Are drawn to lights of holy depth,

  Then wielding swords they journey where

  Corruption’s harvest draws its breath.

  When he finished, he shifted his cloak a half turn to dry another portion. “It seems that Paili is the girl who will silence lies. How you will do that is a question I should ask you, and what the other phrases mean will likely become clear as time presses forward, but I will first tell you of another prophecy that explains the coming war.

  “Our world is unlike yours in many ways, but the pertinent difference is that our Adam …” He tapped himself on the chest. “… never fell to temptation. And I don’t have an Eve, so the possibility of succumbing in that manner did not exist. My people are born in plants that grow in our birthing garden, and they come into the world clutching companions, crystal eggs that float around their heads and always stay quite nearby. You probably saw them with Angel and her two children.”

  Elam nodded. “I did. Very interesting.”

  “A companion is a living conscience, a moral guide that cannot be suppressed by the mind or twisted to conform to outside influences. It is incorruptible, and it creates a spiritual attachment with a person’s soul.”

  “So that’s why Angel seemed so … so perfect, I guess you could say. Her companion helps her stay flawless.”

  “Indeed. And Angel is the finest example you can name. If a woman could possibly live as a saint without need of a companion, Angel would be that woman. Yet, I doubt that she would want to try.” Abraham touched his forehead with his fingertip. “You see, when they hover close, they are able to speak to the mind, thereby helping my people escape corruption all their years until …” He took in a deep breath. As he let it out slowly, he turned the cloak again even though the side toward the fire hadn’t had time to dry. Tears sparkled in his eyes. He sat still and watched the flames for several seconds, saying nothing.

  Acacia slid her hand into his. “You lost someone close?”

  Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he nodded. “One of our people rebelled. His name is Flint, a young man I had taken on as an apprentice, hoping he would help me as a judge over our growing population. Since he was highly intelligent, he became very knowledgeable, but he bristled at my authority. When he defied me in public, I had to send him away to prevent his attitude from spreading.”

  “That must have been very painful.” Acacia pulled his hand toward her and kissed his knuckles. “And your heart is still broken.”

  “No doubt.” After another moment of silence, Abraham’s frown deepened. “Yet far more painful than a broken heart, this rebellion changed our world. Soon after Flint left, the shadow people appeared in the valley, and other humanlike creatures emerged in the marsh and allied themselves with Flint. Not only that, many of the beasts that already existed here became aggressive toward us, when in the past, we could walk with any lion or bear as you would with a faithful dog. Fortunately, with the rebel gone, my people could live without his influence threatening their innocence.

  “Still, I don’t know how long that will last. Enoch gave me another prophecy that I have shared with only a few, mainly my army’s general and the widows of soldiers killed in battle against what we call the altered tribes. Shall I recite that one for you, as well?”

  “Yes,” Elam said. “Please do.”

  Acacia nodded. “We would be honored to hear it.”

  “Very well.” Closing his eyes, Abraham lifted his head and spoke with a vibrant voice.

  For what was lost to be reborn,

  Bestow your blood and breath.

  To bring to life a drago
n shorn,

  Bequeath your willing death.

  The birthing fields will spring anew

  When seeded by the bones;

  Companions dark will flash with light,

  When dragons rise from stones.

  A slave girl from another world

  Will call a warrior hence;

  A dragon slain will rise anew

  And come to your defense.

  While shadows dress the virgin soil

  Before the moon gives light,

  The girl calls forth the garden’s fruit,

  Then day will rule the night.

  They carry gems of ruby red,

  A dragon’s essence stone;

  The resurrecting power ignites

  When ruby meets the bone.

  Beware the dragon from below

  Who sings a siren song

  And calls an Eve from Eden’s twin

  To twist the right to wrong.

  The liar comes and breaks the seal,

  Constructing stairs from Hell;

  A war erupts and those corrupt,

  Will call her to rebel.

  Her words will send a dagger forth

  And separate the skies;

  Then down will come the rain of Earth

  In water, death, and lies.

  The judge can render just desserts

  When criminals stand trial;

  He offers death or life in shame,

  Forever in exile.

  Yet mercy comes, the gavel slips

  From Father’s righteous hand,

  And tears, remorse from broken hearts,

  Will make the guilty stand.

  And only one can save her life,

  A man who lost his scales.

  A sacrifice to win his wife,

  If love is to prevail.

  A bone, a stone, meeting atone,

  A dragon born in flame;

  A shield to wield, marching to yield,

  The dragon sheds his shame.

  When he finished, Abraham took in another deep breath and once again turned his cloak, his cheeks dripping tears.

  Elam, Acacia, and Dikaios said nothing for several minutes. Elam let the words sink into his mind. Paili was obviously the slave girl who would call for a warrior, but who could the liar be? How could the liar’s words start a war?

  He poked the fire again with his reed. “Do you have any idea who the liar is?”

  “Only that the pronouns in the prophecy indicate a woman, though that might be a poetic device. But even if I knew, I’m not sure how to stop someone who wishes to lie. I could use persuasion, but little else would be effective. And once the lie is uttered, the damage would be done. I would do nothing to stop the ramifications.”

  “Even if the result would lead to war?” Elam asked.

  “Even then. You see, Enoch has since told me that my role is to create an environment in which no one should ever choose to lie. As I said, I can try to influence the potential liar with verbal persuasion, and I’m confident that I would be able to do so, but I would not use force. In fact, I would hope the lie would be spoken publicly. If one of my people still wants to lie, even in the face of full exposure, the guilt would be his and his alone … or hers, perhaps. That way, no one would be able to question her banishment.”

  “Banishment?”

  Abraham’s face reddened, and his voice grew sharper. “I assume you heard the prophecy. Only two punishment options are given—death or exile. A seed of corruption must never take root among my people. I banished the rebel. I will banish any liar. As you say in your world, ‘A little leaven leavens the whole lump of dough.’”

  “I see.” Elam nodded slowly. Maybe it would be best to change the subject. Abraham’s emotions seemed as fragile as eggshells. He reached over and patted Dikaios on his neck as he lay on his belly. “So, what happened when you found Greevelow?”

  Dikaios bobbed his head. “Since this is a land of grass and marshes, I was unable to locate any trees or leaves. I noticed firelight, so I galloped toward it and found a village of huts. Two men sat near the fire, and both jumped to their feet when they saw me. I explained our dilemma, but neither man reacted in the slightest. Finally, I asked for someone at least to help us revive Acacia. Greevelow nodded at the other man, pointed at the closest hut, and said, ‘Get bag. Not tell Flint.’”

  “Flint?” Abraham’s eyes lit up. “Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure. The other man entered the hut, walking much more slowly than I had hoped, and returned with a third man who handed Greevelow a bag.”

  “I wonder if Flint saw you,” Abraham said.

  “They did not introduce me to anyone named Flint.” Dikaios blew through his lips and shuddered. “But another man walked by asking questions about me, and the three answered with little more than grunts. If that fourth fellow was Flint, I am glad not to have met him. He had the eyes of a demon.”

  “Yes … I know.” Abraham stroked his chin. “Go on.”

  “After that man walked out of earshot, I asked Greevelow to ride me. He threw his sitting blanket over my back and mounted me like a seasoned warrior. I returned as quickly as possible, and you know the rest.”

  Abraham stood and grabbed his cloak from the stick. “Did you notice where Flint … I mean, the demon-eyed man, was when you left?”

  Dikaios bobbed his head. “He entered a larger house, one of bricks and mortar. After that, my focus was on finding my way here. The moon is brighter now, but the marshes have few landmarks.”

  “When you explained our dilemma, did you mention my name?”

  “To the first two men, yes. I hoped that they might know you and be more willing to hurry to our aid.”

  Abraham waved a hand at the fire. “Acacia, can you lower the flames?”

  She blew a whisper at their campfire. “Settle.” The fire crackled and died to a smoldering mass of embers.

  “Are you trying to avoid Flint?” Elam asked.

  Abraham glanced from side to side, then leaned toward him, lowering his voice. “It is not his presence I fear. We have no weapons save for the Oracle’s flames, but that will do little good against arrows shot from dark marshes.”

  Chapter 5

  Binding the Harness

  Sapphira, shivering in the bitter cold breeze, crept toward the giant’s body. Without a hint of movement as he lay sprawled out on top of the generator roof, his face charred black and his legs sliced through at the ankles, he had to be dead, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Too many strange things had happened lately. A mangled giant coming back to life after being electrocuted and having his feet chopped off wouldn’t be the strangest.

  Pulling her sweatshirt’s hood over her head, she looked up and scanned the sky for Gabriel. Since she perched near a dimensional portal, her vision had sharpened, enabling her to see across miles of Montana scenery—snowcapped mountains, highways threading the passes, and houses nestled in the folds. It was all truly beautiful.

  After a few seconds, she spotted him. He flew high above, battling the breeze and circling as he searched the area for any sign of the other giants who had helped this dead one create the power grid.

  Now that the sky had returned to normal, blue and sun-drenched, the view of Heaven seemed like a dream. Yet it was only days ago that the very roof she stood upon had been the anchor point for a connection between Earth and Heaven, a connection of electricity, fire, and spiritual power that had nearly destroyed Earth and the Bridgelands, the region separating Heaven from the created worlds.

  As Gabriel descended, she stooped at a splotch of blood where Karen had fallen. After the little redhead had cut off the giant’s feet, ending Mardon’s plans to build a new Tower of Babel, she hit the concrete at this spot, gashing her forehead and spilling her precious blood before she died.

  Sapphira dabbed the blood and rubbed her finger and thumb together. Still tacky. How strange! It should have dried long ago. Touching her finger to her forehead, she bowed a
nd prayed in a whisper. “Father in Heaven, let this anointing remind me of the great sacrifice your faithful witness made at this altar. I am thankful that she now knows how pleased you are with her as she basks in the warmth of your holy light and luxuriates in the splendor of your loving embrace.”

  As she rose to her feet, Gabriel landed, flapping his wings to steady himself. Breathing heavily, he touched her forehead, a grin breaking out on his youthful face. “New kind of makeup?”

  Sapphira smiled. “Just a symbol. I want to be at least half as brave as she was.”

  “I know what you mean.” He nodded toward the power plant’s dam, barely visible over the wall that once supported the roof. Water poured through the spillway, creating a low roar. “I saw a bunch of huge footprints. The giants must have congregated over there, and a trail leads to the highway, but with all the pavement, I couldn’t figure out where they went after that. I guess we won’t be able to report anything new to Sir Patrick when he gets here.”

  Sapphira pushed on the dead giant’s arm with her foot. “Should we do anything with this one? When they finally decide to reopen the plant, finding him here might give someone a heart attack.”

  “I don’t think so.” Gabriel twitched his nose. “Just another monster. The merging with Hades kind of made Earth a big Halloween party. They might be getting used to it.”

  She looked out over the devastated power plant—its ripped metal roof, partially collapsed cinderblock walls, and scorched machinery. There was no way they could clean up everything, but maybe they could dispose of the Naphil’s carcass. At least that would forestall some of the investigation. “We could roll his body off and burn it on the turbine room floor.” She snapped her fingers and opened her palm, displaying a grapefruit-sized flame in the middle. “It would be a snap.”

  “Maybe.” Gabriel knelt and wedged his hands under the giant’s body. Grunting as he pushed, he looked up at the sky. “We should have asked Thigocia to haul him down there before she left.”

  “Thigocia?” Sapphira extinguished her flame and joined in, matching his grunts. “Don’t you call her ‘Mother’ or ‘Mom’?”