Last of the Nephilim

by Bryan Davis

  She pressed the flat side of the blade against her body. Its warmth penetrated her shirt and radiated across her skin. Yet, instead of bringing the soothing relief of the spring’s steamy bath, it raised a cascade of shivers from her shoulders to her waist. “Is that better?”

  “Turn my point toward your heart and press it against bare skin. Only then will I be able to communicate my message.”

  She pulled the collar of her shirt down and set the tip of the blade against her bosom. As the stone radiated cold into her skin, her fingers trembled around the grip. “Like this?”

  “Very good.” The voice became crisp and clear. “Now you can listen to the words of truth, words you cannot deny. You were born a slave in this God-forsaken mine, and you are destined to die here. God used you for his purposes over and over, only to send you back here to suffer alone. You helped save the race of dragons, ended the schemes of slayers, and rescued Bonnie Silver from exposure, and each time you returned to this dungeon.” The dagger’s voice softened. “You know that, don’t you?”

  As she closed her eyes, Sapphira’s face twitched. “Yes.” Her voice spiked high. “Yes, I know. But I deserve it. I’m just a—”

  “A slave girl. A foolish slave girl who thought she could rise up on the wings of faith, yet she was dashed to the lower realms time after time.” A “tsk, tsk” sound emanated from the blade. “Long ago King Nimrod wanted to give you to the men of the temple. Do you remember that?”

  She nodded, tears now dripping. “I remember.”

  “And you know what they would have done, don’t you?”

  Again, she nodded. With the dagger shaking in her hand, the blade pricked her skin, but not deep enough to draw blood.

  “You ran away, of course, and to where? The same place you toil now, your only refuge from those who sit high and mighty on royal thrones, who wish only to use you for their pleasures and cast you to the ground when you have outlived your usefulness. Now that you have violated Enoch’s trust, you can never be trusted again. And since you took from the tree of life, you cannot die of natural causes. You will stay here forever.

  “Forever alone. Forever without Elam. And Elam will forever be without you, which is all for the better. You don’t deserve such a brave, obedient warrior, and he would be better off without you. He will take Acacia into his heart, the sister you betrayed so long ago, the only Oracle who has truly been faithful and—”

  “Stop it!” Sapphira wailed. “Stop it! I know it’s all true. Why do you torment me like this?”

  The dagger’s voice lowered to a snakelike hiss. “Because I want to help you end your suffering. Because of the curse on those who would spill your blood, only you would be willing to take your life, but I will be your instrument of destruction. Plunge me into your heart. You will escape this dungeon, and you will never, ever have to come back. Elam will marry Acacia, and he will be happy forever, safely in the arms of an Oracle who never betrayed anyone, neither you, nor Enoch, nor God. If you will complete this final act of unselfishness, everyone you love will be happy and fulfilled, and you will never be alone again.”

  Still sobbing, Sapphira heaved shallow breaths. Every spasm drove the blade’s stinging point deeper. As she watched the staurolite dagger against her pale skin, its embedded crystals sparkled like scarlet mirrors, spattering reflections of themselves across her chest. A hundred tiny crosses, each one bloody red, wavered over a sea of white.

  “Do it now, Mara. Plunge deep and quick. Your pain will soon be over, and the world will be rid of this daughter of the Earth, this faithless betrayer who is unworthy to draw another breath.”

  The ovulum’s glow blossomed, sending brighter and brighter light across her body, magnifying the crystalline images on her skin. As the largest cross remained steady at the center of her chest, a memory flashed in her mind. Standing at the edge of a precipice, she stared at death, the magma river below, ready to cast herself into its fiery clutches. She had held aloft a flaming cross, the same cross she had carried for years, lighting her way through so many dark times.

  Just before jumping, she had pressed the cross against her bosom, bringing its flames into her heart and killing forever the daughter of Earth that she once was and resurrecting her as a daughter of the King. The searing heat purged her eternal loneliness, the same empty feeling that had now crept back in like a crafty serpent. Words eased into her mind, Gabriel’s beautiful phrases spoken in a dim echoing tunnel. “You are an amazing girl, Sapphira Adi, and I want you to know that someone appreciates all you’ve done.”

  She jerked the dagger away and slammed it to the floor. Shaking violently, she rose to her feet. She pressed her hand against her chest and shouted, “I am Sapphira Adi! A child of Jehovah!” She kicked the dagger across the floor. “I already died once, and I don’t ever have to die again!”

  She scooped up the ovulum and stroked its glass. Inside, the red cloud swirled faster than ever, as if dancing with delight. Parting her lips, she breathed over the surface, frosting the crystal with a coat of white mist. The cloud slowed for a moment, then spun again, as if responding to her delicate touch. She rose to the balls of her feet, spread her arms, and swirled in a circle of her own, dancing with the holy presence within her grasp.

  She didn’t have to speak. She didn’t have to try to explain her mistake. Jehovah knew her heart. Frightened and confused, she had done the best she could. Her loving God had searched her soul and found no shadow of selfishness. Her choice to let them go through the portal, a decision manipulated by the presence of a vile deceiver, had done nothing to drive a wedge between her and her eternal dance partner.

  Slowing her spin, she drew the ovulum close and pressed it against her chest. Warmth flooded her body, and, this time, her soul. Every chill flew away. Every doubt vanished. She would never again allow an accuser to hold such sway over her mind.

  As her tremors eased, Sapphira gazed down the dark tunnel. It was probably too late to run to the museum and stop them from using the portal. Her best choice now would be to dispose of the dagger and return to her hovel. Yes, return to her hovel and wait. For how long? It didn’t matter. Even if she had to wait for years, she would never be alone. Not this time. Sure, Gabriel would eventually return, bearing news of his efforts and perhaps leading former dragons into the mines, and he would be a welcome addition, but now she would never again forget that she always had someone at her side, Jehovah-Shammah—the Lord is there.

  She stuffed the ovulum under her shirt and snatched up the dagger. Now it was time to put the deceiver in his place. After tying the loose rope to the dangling piece in the shaft, she clamped the dagger between her teeth, wrapped her arms and legs around the line, and slid down. Since she had to descend only one level, the remaining rope would be long enough … she hoped.

  The dagger buzzed in her teeth, the voice again whispering its static-filled words, but she just hummed a tune, nothing in particular, just something loud enough to drown out the viperous tongue.

  When she arrived, she swung into the new tunnel, pulled out the ovulum, and gripped the dagger’s hilt in her fist. Once again she traveled the path to the precipice, but this time marching like a soldier, with new purpose, no hesitation, no dread. She was the bearer of the dagger, and she would take this deceiver to its appointed doom.

  She strode out to the ledge. As the heat from the magma river rushed upward, she pulled her arm back, threw the dagger as far as she could, and, not bothering to watch it fall, marched back through the tunnel, Enoch’s ovulum leading the way.

  Still walking with purpose, she let out a long, satisfied sigh. The demon was gone, vanquished. Now she would go back to the hovel and wait patiently for the next step, no matter how long it might take.

  Sitting on the floor near the back of Merlin, Ashley reeled in a long run of twine and wrapped it around her hand, her makeshift measuring line. “We can fit three cots, but no more. Since they’ll be on wheels, we can probably adjust them once we get them in.
”

  “That is,” Walter added, “if Cliffside gets the wheels done in time.” Sitting cross-legged with his back against the closed cargo door, he pointed at the seats. “If we had his tools, maybe we could remove those to make more room.”

  “No time, but at least we can fit the sickest ones. Since it’s going to be so dangerous, it’s better to limit our patients to the three who would die anyway.”

  “So those three are going,” Walter said, “and you, Billy, Steadfast, and his wife make seven.”

  “Right.” She scrunched her eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re okay with staying at the magnet station?”

  “I’m okay. I’d rather be bouncing around the sky with you and Billy, but I don’t mind being your translator.”

  Ashley pushed her hand against his and intertwined their fingers. “We said we’d be together for the rest of these adventures, but …” She sighed. What else could she say? She had already explained why he had to stay at the magnet station. Cliffside couldn’t learn their lingo fast enough to make the proper adjustments to turn or to change the speed of the sky hospital, and if Walter flew with Billy, he wouldn’t be able to adjust the Cessna’s radio if something went wrong.

  Finally, she pulled away and set her hands in her lap. “We can do this. We have to do this. Even if we’re not together.”

  “If you’re trying to read my mind again,” Walter said, “I think you’re tuned into the wrong frequency. I’m really cool with the idea. Don’t worry about it.” He withdrew his MP3 player from his pocket. “Speaking of frequency, we still haven’t tested it long range.”

  Ashley pointed at the player. “You said your radio might come in handy. You can say ‘I told you so’ if you want to.”

  “Yeah, you read me right that time, but I wasn’t going to say it.” He scooted around her and jumped out the passenger door. “I should be at the station in about three minutes. Give me a holler.”

  Ashley rose to her knees and looked out the door. Walter sprinted across the dragon-launching field, his arms pumping in the cold wind. He was such a great guy—polite, courageous, virtuous, and, of course, funny.

  As she walked to the cockpit, she caught another view of him out the front windshield, shrinking in the distance as he crested a hill. Yes, he was all she could ever ask for in a young man, but he was so young … too young. And it would take years, maybe five years or more, before the gap in their ages would seem narrow enough to allow anything more than a close friendship to develop.

  She sat in the copilot’s chair and slid the headset on. Since she had taken the airplane’s radio out of the dashboard and left it hanging, she could tweak the frequency if necessary, but she would have to secure everything before takeoff.

  She glanced at the sky. No sign of Clefspeare. He had no idea how long it would take to find Billy at Mount Elijah and then fly back. With Mother the only one watching the birthing garden, the entire village lay at greater risk. And who could tell about Flint and his army? When would they feel strong enough to attack?

  After guessing that three minutes were up, Ashley called on the radio. “Walter, I’m broadcasting on one-oh-seven-point-nine. I know you can’t answer, but I’ll keep talking for a while to make sure you’ve had time to get to the station. Since you’re not even a mile away, this might be an inadequate test. We’ll have to fly at ten-thousand feet. Now, I don’t mean to insult you, because I know you can do the math, but that’s just under two miles … well, one point eight nine and change, in case you want to know, and because of the angle between the central magnet and where we happen to be flying at any given time, the distance would be even greater.

  “Of course, since they use a magnet that’s not ferromagnetic, I’m not completely sure that my calculations are correct, but that’s all for the better. If they used magnets that attracted iron and steel, our airplane would be affected in unpredictable ways. The whole concept is super cool, but it has its drawbacks, including taking a full day to land the thing if they wanted to pick up people with life-threatening injuries. Maybe I can figure out a way to improve that process. Anyway …”

  Ashley kept chattering, still glancing from time to time at the sky, hoping to see a returning dragon. As soon as Billy arrived, they would have to get the patients to the airplane in a hurry. No sense loading them ahead of time, not in such cold weather. She would just have to wait and trust that God would keep those poor villagers alive long enough to get them safely to the hospital.

  Finally, she stopped talking and pulled off the headset. As she laid it in her lap, she looked at her palms. There was no trace of the deep wounds that had once gouged her skin, the holes the pennies bored there when she surrendered her gifts to God. And now with her healing gift restored, she felt useless. Yes, she could still do a healing, but the last episode took so much out of her, it nearly killed her, and she was exhausted for hours. Somehow her powers were crippled in this place, sort of like how Excalibur had lost its ability to send out its destructive beam. Obviously she and Walter would have to count on others to do what they couldn’t do themselves.

  Looking into the air again, she whispered, “And that means you, God.” She lifted her hand, exposing her palm to the sky. “It’s all yours. Use this hand however you will. I, Ashley Stalworth, give it to you again today … and forever.”

  Chapter 23

  Climbing between Worlds

  Acacia stood next to the tree of life, carrying a lantern that had been one of the museum’s window lights for hundreds of years. Now burning the last bit of oil in its reservoir, it illuminated the curved inner walls, revealing a few dusty scrolls lying on shelves. Leaning against the shelves, wooden ladders, some with broken or missing rungs, climbed high into the dark upper reaches. The rope from the elevator shaft lay in a coil at her feet.

  “Hold this, please.” She handed the lantern to Bonnie. “Here’s the plan. I’ll create the portal around everyone, and as soon as I can see the volcano in Second Eden, I’ll throw the rope to Billy and climb up. That way, we’ll be sure it’s safe to pass from here to there. Then, from the volcano level, I’ll keep the portal open for you to join me.” She scanned each face. “Who’ll be next?”

  Irene raised her hand. “They need a dragon up there. We’d better make sure they get one.” She pointed at the two girls in turn. “Then Bonnie, and then Shiloh.”

  Acacia picked up an end of the rope. “If you don’t have the strength to climb, I’m sure we can pull you. Billy and Candle and Listener are all there to help.”

  Looking up, Acacia peered through the darkness. Her enhanced vision acted like a telescope, allowing her to see the beams that crossed just under the museum’s domed top and a hint of light from an unseen source. Could it be the other realm? “This must be a very thin portal,” she said, waving for everyone to gather around. “It shouldn’t take much to open it.”

  When all four drew into a tight huddle, Acacia raised her hand and called out, “Give me light!” A white flame erupted from her palm. She swirled her arm, creating the usual circle, then a descending curtain. Within seconds, the twisting fire swept around their cluster and enveloped the tree, as well. The leaves fluttered, and the soil in the planter glowed white.

  Soon, the volcano chamber materialized above their heads. Half in one dimension and half in another, they seemed firmly planted in the museum room while floating in the volcano’s throat. The fire passed right through the cave’s semitransparent floor above, unhindered by the solid stone, and made a wall that encircled the upper hole.

  Billy, standing next to Candle and Listener, held his hands up, as if blinded by the fire, or maybe warding off the heat.

  Acacia lowered her hand and let the portal vortex spin on its own while she wound the rope into a loop. Then, tossing it through the flames, she yelled, “Catch!”

  Billy snagged the rope, wound it around his waist, and backed up slowly. “Let’s go!”

  As the rope slid against the side of the volcano chamber’s flo
or opening, Acacia gripped the line, riding the pull as she struggled to help by climbing hand over hand. It took only a few seconds for her to reach the lip of the hole. About a foot or so of stone floor lay between her hand and the encircling wall of flames. When she stretched one arm and pushed her hand through the wall, Candle and Listener grabbed it and dragged her the rest of the way out.

  She leaped to her feet, faced the portal, and waved her arms. “I have to keep it open. Irene is next.”

  Candle pointed at the rope. “It’s catching fire.”

  “The fire is real,” Acacia said as she stamped out the embers. “If we keep the rope moving up and down, maybe it won’t burn up.”

  Billy took a few steps forward and reeled the rope back down. “Okay! Let me know when to pull!”

  As Acacia peered into the fire, Irene grabbed the rope and began to hoist herself up. “She’s got it,” Acacia said. “Pull!”

  Billy heaved backward again. The rope tightened. Several fibers broke free, blackened and smoking. When Irene’s head appeared above floor level, Acacia leaned into the flames and grabbed her by an arm. Then, while lifting, Acacia raised her free hand, waved it around, and shouted, “Increase!” The curtain of fire crept outward, allowing Irene room to stand.

  “Now Bonnie!” Acacia called. As the rope lowered again, she looked into the museum room. Bonnie clutched the line, but the flaming wall down below had contracted, forcing her and Shiloh to squeeze close together.

  “The tree’s on fire!” Shiloh yelled.

  Suddenly, the mountain began to shake. Pebbles drizzled from above, pelting Acacia’s head. She swung around to Billy. Smoke rose from the rope between them. More fibers snapped. “Pull!” she shouted. “Now!”

  Billy backed up a step. The rope broke away, sending him stumbling toward the outer wall. As the line whipped toward the hole, Acacia grabbed it and hung on. More rocks fell, bigger ones crunching on the cave floor.

  A stone as large as her head plunged into the museum room, striking Bonnie’s shoulder. She collapsed to the floor in a heap. Shiloh leaped over her body, and they faded out of sight.