Last of the Nephilim

by Bryan Davis

  “Are we to become like our enemies?” Angel asked. “Shall we attack first? Shall we lie just because they deceive …” As her voice trailed off, her head dipped slightly. Then, backing away a step, she looked at Elam. “I apologize. It is not my place to interrupt or question a great warrior.”

  Elam tried to read Angel’s eyes, but she averted her gaze, apparently locking it now on Candle as he stood next to Valiant. Candle gazed up at the tall warrior, his smile of delight as clear as day.

  Nodding at Valiant, Elam sat on the berm. “Please continue, and take as much time as you need.”

  Valiant walked to the front of the villagers, his knife still evident as he clutched its wooden hilt. Angel bent over, scooted to Listener, and sat next to her.

  “I will speak but a few more words,” Valiant said. “Flint expects us to wait. He believes us to be sheep without a shepherd. The Father of Lights has sent us a new chief for this time of need, and in his infinite wisdom, he has given us one who seems no more than a boy. Flint will not respect him. He assumes that we will cower in fear, or fold our hands, preaching a misguided understanding of grace and forgiveness, until he deems it timely to send Father Abraham back to us.”

  Valiant leaned over and placed a hand on Elam’s shoulder. “Yet, I see in this warrior’s eyes wisdom beyond his years. If Enoch sent him to us, then the God of Enoch calls upon us to listen and obey. If he calls us to charge into the marshes, then I will once again raise my dagger and spill my blood in obedience. If he calls me to stay in the village and wait for our deliverance from above, then I will sit in my hut and sharpen my dagger until I am called upon.”

  Lowering himself to one knee, Valiant laid his dagger at Elam’s feet and bowed his head. “Speak, Warrior Chief. I and my dagger are yours to command.”

  Elam stood and laid his hand on Valiant’s curly dark hair. Beginning with the first row, the people rose up to their knees and bowed, each one pressing their hands together in prayer. The shifting bodies looked like a wave upon the sea as the posture of humble submission took shape from front to back. Angel, too, assumed the praying posture.

  The sight warmed Elam’s heart but also pinched his conscience. With unflinching confidence, these people were willing to lay their lives on the line and follow an inexperienced stranger. The overwhelming responsibility sagged his shoulders.

  Walter, Ashley, Acacia, and Paili looked at Elam. Not being villagers, they obviously weren’t sure what they should do.

  “My friends from the other world,” Elam said, keeping his hand on Valiant. “Come and join me.”

  When they gathered around him, he whispered, “I have no clue what I’m doing, so pray for me with all your might.”

  Breathing a silent prayer of his own, crying out to God for that wisdom Valiant had mentioned, Elam lifted his hand. “Arise, Valiant, and I will tell you what we will do.”

  Even as he spoke, Elam shuddered. Somehow those words had spilled out unbidden. What should they do? Go to battle now when Flint wasn’t expecting it? But some of their best weapons were injured or exhausted. Choose peace and wait for Abraham to return? That would play into Flint’s plan. He seemed content simply to hold Abraham for two days and then just let him go.

  As Valiant rose, the rest of the people stood as well. Elam shifted his gaze to Angel. She again crossed her arms and kept her head turned.

  Elam stared into Valiant’s deep brown eyes. He had to give this warrior a vote of confidence, let him know that his courage to charge into danger was appreciated. Yet, Angel’s idea had great merit. Could there be a compromise?

  “Valiant,” Elam said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I cannot risk going to battle with so many of our weapons in need of rest. Yet, I expect that with our healer’s touch, the day will not end before we are ready. As you know, we have been promised another helper, and our speech-bearer will speak the words to provide that tonight.”

  Valiant’s eyebrows drooped slightly, but he gave no other sign of disappointment.

  “As you have so wisely suggested,” Elam continued, “we should strike when Flint least expects it. So, the moment we receive our helper, we will attack …” He paused for a moment, firming his chin. “We will attack tonight while it is still dark.”

  Chapter 13

  Another Plunge

  Billy stared at the amazing scene out the copilot’s window. After passing over a dense forest, they flew alongside an enormous chasm, so deep there seemed to be no bottom at all. Soaring high above gave him a panoramic view, the blue wall they had left behind far to his right, a series of colorful meadows, rocky ridges, and majestic forests between the wall and the chasm, and the equally magnificent fields and forests beyond the chasm to his left. No artist could possibly set this beauty to canvas; he could never do it justice.

  He glanced at Enoch, sitting in the aisle next to Sir Barlow, but he quickly turned back. He couldn’t bear to take his eyes off the sheer walls that dropped into nothingness and the grass-covered ledges that promised eye-popping, yet heart-thumping views to anyone who would dare to creep that close. “What is this place?” he asked.

  “Zeno’s Chasm.” Enoch reached forward and tapped Billy’s father on the shoulder. “Jared, be sure to stay on this side. When you see a bridge, look for a safe place to land.”

  “Will do.” He pushed Merlin into a slow descent. After a minute or so, they buzzed just over the treetops, watching the uneven contours of the chasm’s rocky lip zoom past. Three horses—two roans and a palomino—galloped near the ledge, as if racing the airplane in a wild frolic. A bald eagle leaped up from the pinnacle of a tall evergreen and flew lazily away. In a distant field beyond the chasm’s bordering forest, a herd of four-legged animals dashed up to the crest of a hill, but they were too far away to identify.

  “What are those?” Billy asked, pointing.

  Enoch glanced out. “Unicorns,” he said blankly, as if they were a typical sight in the Bridgelands.

  Resisting the temptation to say “Wow!” Billy focused on one unicorn at the top of the ridge, looking toward them as if gazing in the same awestruck delight.

  As the ridge passed by on his side, Sir Barlow didn’t bother to suppress his thoughts. “By all that is holy! I have heard of these beasts. They say to ride one, you must be a maiden of impeccable virtue.”

  Billy tried to sneak a quick glance at Shiloh sitting across the aisle, but she caught him and gave him a demure smile. Sir Patrick held her hand over the armrest between them. He, too, gazed out the window in wonder.

  Soon, another strange scene came into view, a sagging line that spanned the chasm in the shape of a thin smile. With broken boards and frayed rope lining its drooping frame, it seemed old and fragile, and as it swayed precariously in the stiff breeze, it appeared to be unusable, except maybe for campfire fuel.

  “That’s it,” Enoch said from the back. “There should be a suitable field just beyond that stand of trees that borders the oval lake you will see in a moment.”

  Billy spotted the field. It did seem long and flat enough for landing, a strip of grass that lined a lake so clear, only the ripples on one side proved it to be a lake instead of a hole with a few fish floating in midair near the bottom.

  As his father banked the airplane, Billy’s window shifted to the chasm. He focused on the point where the bridge attached to rods on the opposite side.

  Something moved. A human shape. No. More than one. Several.

  “Enoch!” He thrust his finger toward the window. “People.”

  The old prophet didn’t even bother to look. “Not ordinary people. They are Nephilim, and they stand at the edge of the chasm awaiting the opening of the portal.” He rose, his back bent to avoid the ceiling, and sat in an aisle seat in the second row, buckling his belt with surprisingly practiced hands. “I will explain the Nephilim after we land.”

  Billy grinned. This man of millennia past seemed as comfortable with modern technology as he was with ancient legends and fabled
creatures. After all, hadn’t he already flown with Ashley, disguised as an aging physicist?

  A minute later, they sailed over the field and coasted to a smooth landing, the wheels barely jumping at all as they rumbled across the grass.

  Enoch unbuckled and scooted into the aisle. “After a brief explanation, I will leave you to your journey. But first, I have something for Jared.” He reached into an inner pocket, withdrew a ring with a mounted red gem, and extended it toward Billy’s father.

  He eyed the stone. “A rubellite?”

  “It was your father’s. When Devin killed him, he neglected to search for the rubellite embedded between Goliath’s scales. Since he was obsessed with the treasure in his victim’s regeneracy bed, he merely plucked Goliath’s eyes out as his only draconic trophy. When Merlin heard about the slaying, he found the carcass and retrieved the gem. How it came into my hands and then into this ring is another story that I don’t have time to tell.” Enoch placed it in Jared’s palm. “If Goliath had been an honorable dragon, he would have either passed it on to you or given you one of your own when you came of age. I believe the ring is the correct size, and I would like for you to wear it. Yet, if you think such a reminder of his treachery would be too great to bear, I would understand.”

  Without a second’s hesitation, he slid the ring over his finger. Instantly, the gem faded to pink, then white. “It will remind me to be a better man … or dragon … whichever skin the Maker calls me to wear.”

  “Very well, then, on to my explanation.” Enoch returned to his seat and spoke loudly enough for all to hear. “These Nephilim are evil giants from ages ago. They are waiting for an event to occur in Second Eden. If it comes to pass, the chasm’s portal will open, and they will be able to enter that world safely, for no evil can enter unless one of the Eden dwellers invites it with an act of corruption.

  “Since you have a safe flight conveyance, you may enter now. Fly into the chasm and take the airplane into a steep dive. Such a plunge will test your faith, but I tell you, the steeper the dive, the easier your journey will be. When you arrive, you will do well to find your friends, but I ask you to learn whether or not my friend Abraham has returned to his village. If he is still gone, I implore you to do all you can to get him home with all speed. Many lives depend on his presence when his people call for a warrior’s aid in the birthing garden.”

  “The birthing garden,” Billy said. “What’s that?”

  “You will learn soon enough. Find Abraham. He will tell you all you need to know. But if he is not restored to his people in time, a catastrophe of the greatest proportions will come upon them like a stampede.”

  Billy opened the back door and extended the airstair. “Any other last-minute instructions?”

  Enoch looked at the stairs for a moment, hesitating. Finally, he turned toward the front of the plane. “I am almost fearful of asking this, because I know how long the young lady’s father suffered while she toiled in misery, but if I could borrow Shiloh, her services would be most beneficial to our cause.”

  Shiloh shot up from her seat, kissed her father on the forehead, and, sliding her hand away from his, marched to the back. “Father and I have already discussed this possibility, so I am ready to go.”

  “No questions?” Enoch asked. “Do you want to know where we are going or for how long?”

  Shiloh put on her coat and gazed up at him, her face beaming. “No questions at all. I am at your service for as long as you need me.” She looked back at her father and waved. He firmed his jaw and waved back without a word.

  Enoch and Shiloh descended the airstair and strolled out to the grassy field. Billy closed the door, secured the latch, and walked to the cockpit, hunching to avoid the ceiling. As he passed by, Sir Patrick gazed out the window, his face ashen.

  Billy slid into the copilot’s seat and looked out. Enoch and Shiloh stood hand in hand, waving. With her braids bouncing in the wind and Enoch’s white wisps flying up and exposing his nearly bald head, they looked like grandfather and granddaughter getting ready to go on a picnic.

  Billy’s father reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Ready?”

  He tightened his buckle and gave his father a thumbs-up. “Let’s do it!”

  “Indeed!” Sir Barlow said, raising his thumb. “We used this sign back in my day.”

  Sir Patrick joined the thumb raising. “May I offer a prayer for protection?”

  “Of course!” Billy’s father bowed his head. When Barlow and Patrick bowed theirs, Patrick spoke in a quiet, respectful tone.

  “God of Heaven, Maker of all, hear the prayers of your servants. You have called us to bring order to chaos, to divide the world of living sojourners from the wasteland of lost souls. We know that you could do this with a breath, a mere thought, but since you take pleasure in calling your faithful ones to perform extraordinary tasks to build and maintain your kingdom, we humbly submit and place our lives in your hands. We ask you to guide us, protect us, and grant us success. I also ask that you protect my beloved daughter as I leave her in the hands of your mighty prophet to use her in whatever way you command. But if any of us should fall by the sword of our enemies, we ask you to sweep us into Heaven, counting us worthy to stand in your presence because of the character you have created in us through the power of your son, Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah. Amen.”

  Amens echoed through the cabin. Without another word, everyone looked forward as the plane rolled down the makeshift runway.

  Barely clearing the treetops, Merlin flew toward the chasm. When the deep scar in the landscape came back into sight, Billy looked down at the giants gathered near the edge, counting them as quickly as he could. He spotted nine, maybe ten, but someone else was down there now, someone small and dressed in red.

  “Who could that be?” he asked.

  His father banked the plane hard to the right and followed the chasm’s channel. “We’ll fly pretty close when we dive. Maybe we’ll get a better look.”

  The plane eased into a downward angle. As the steepness sharpened, they dove past the bridge and into the divide. The person in red had flashed by in an instant, but the breeze pressing the cloak against her curvaceous shape made her gender clear.

  “A woman,” Barlow said. “And I don’t like the looks of her. An unsavory hellcat, if you want my opinion.”

  Sir Patrick spoke up. “Seeing that she is in the company of the Nephilim, I won’t argue with your assessment.”

  “Get ready.” Billy’s father gripped the yoke with both hands. “We’re going to really dive now.”

  Billy clutched the hand rests. As the plane tipped forward, he watched the readings on the meter dip toward their nosedive target of ninety degrees—one hundred sixty degrees, one forty, one twenty. His body lifted off the seat, but the belt held him in place. As his ears popped, dizziness washed through his head, and black spots filled his vision.

  “Time to go for broke!” his father shouted.

  Merlin dove almost straight down. The rocky walls on each side blurred, then dimmed until darkness swept across the plane.

  As twilight draped the marsh, Abraham returned to his plan. With his ankles looped by a hangman’s noose, his wrists bound by the nettle-infested cords, and his body dangling upside down from a gallows with his shoulders and head resting in shallow water, escape seemed impossible. Yet, with darkness approaching, his best hope lay only minutes away. When the time came, he would have to work fast, so he had to get his tool and keep it ready.

  He shifted his arms to his side and slid a finger behind his belt, digging into the little pouch he had fashioned years ago. His wounded palm ached, but it couldn’t be helped. Yielding to pain wasn’t an option.

  Pushing farther, he fished for the bone. He touched it with his fingertip, but just as he hooked his finger around it and pulled it up to the outside of his tunic, a woman approached. He opened his hand and pressed the bone against his belt with his palm.

  Tall, hefty, and dark-skinned,
the woman stooped and tore a morsel of bread from a small loaf. “Hands washed,” she said as she pushed the morsel into Abraham’s mouth.

  He nodded a “thank you” and chewed. The bread was still warm and carried the flavor of honey and highlands barley, a rare treat for the people of the marshes. He gave a more enthusiastic nod, trying to show his appreciation for the kindness.

  She smiled, but it was a sad sort of smile. “Drink?” She displayed a mug in her thick hands. “Make sleep. No pain.”

  Abraham swallowed the morsel. “I appreciate the thought, but I need to stay awake. Do you have clean water?”

  “Turn head. Swamp water clean.”

  Abraham blinked, trying to ward away the blurriness that the hours in this position had caused. “You are Greevelow’s Eve, aren’t you?”

  “Mantika.” As she mopped his forehead with the hem of her dress, she lowered her voice. “Fear not. My Adam not allow harm to you.”

  Abraham studied her serious eyes. Even those few words were many for these people, a tribe his own people called “altered,” not only because of their speech patterns and aggressive attacks when the dragons flew over, but also because of their ability to produce a child without a birthing garden. Obviously she was stretching her verbal abilities in an attempt to be helpful. “Come closer,” he whispered. “I don’t want Flint to hear our conversation.”

  As she leaned toward him with another morsel in hand, he continued. “Flint will not harm me, at least for a while. He only wants to keep me here through the next day and night. I believe a deceiver is in my village. If I am not there to persuade her otherwise, she will utter a lie that will bring a great evil into our land. I believe it is one of my own people, and she doesn’t even realize what she is being tempted to do, yet I won’t know who she is until I investigate.”