Joshua Valiant (Chronicles of the Nephilim)

by Brian Godawa

  And they were inhumanly strong.

  This would not be easy.

  Uriel screamed out, “They are like Shades of Sheol!”

  Gabriel decapitated a few, which seemed to stop them.

  “Then cut off their heads like Shades!”

  Uriel followed suit and the two of them backed up to join the others. They broke into a fighting form and defended themselves against the growing circle of freakish miscreants.

  Mikael could see that Ashtart and Molech were now running through the graveyard, finishing up their deadly seeding.

  There were now hundreds of them, animated corpses that could not die because they were already dead, with chomping jaws of death. And all of them surrounding the angels for a breakfast meal.

  • • • • •

  The trees had worked as a strategy for Joshua. The battle had been forced into the woods. The Rephaim advantage was overturned as Joshua had planned because their tall height had necessitated bending down to avoid the branches. The giants could not maneuver easily and the odds were balanced.

  But Joshua had not anticipated the technology of the Bashan army. Their weaponry was superior to Israel’s. Whereas the Israelites had the long rectangle shaped shields of Egypt, these soldiers had smaller round shields influenced by the Sea Peoples who had been recently infiltrating the coastland. The round shield was more versatile and conducive to swordplay.

  And the swords were different as well. Whereas the Israelites carried the bronze curved sickle swords, most common in the Near East, their enemies carried stronger heavier swords made of a more durable metal. Joshua had heard of the advances of this new metal called “iron,” and had seen its advantage in strength and durability when he had spied out Canaan a generation earlier. But he had yet to see its effectiveness on the field of battle with many troops.

  Unfortunately, iron was very effective against his bronze. And in the hands of a giant, it would shatter Israelite weapons.

  Joshua’s army was wavering.

  • • • • •

  The swords of the four angels were spinning like fans, cutting off heads left and right.

  They had to push forward to avoid creating a pile that would block them in.

  But these living dead were not easy to kill. They were supernaturally strong and relentless.

  The angels were getting tired.

  Uriel was drenched with sweat. His arms were getting heavy. These things just kept coming.

  And angels were flesh, so even though they could not die, they could suffer wounds and bites. And they were being scratched in too many close calls.

  Uriel realized that should they be overcome, their bodies could be eaten and they would be forever imprisoned in the bellies of the undead—alive, but chewed up. He grimaced. They would fail their mission. They would fail their god.

  This was not looking good.

  He saw the gods in the distance split up. Ashtart went north, and Molech went south.

  But right now, none of the angels could consider making chase. They had to keep from becoming a meal for these living dead.

  Uriel shouted, “I need a moment to rest!”

  The other three circled around to protect their comrade. They would surely chide Uriel if they survived, but they would give their lives for one another without a complaint or qualification in such dire moments.

  But they also knew their little brother had a secret weapon, and he just needed enough preparation for a burst of energy to pull it off.

  Uriel caught his breath and yelled, “Okay, brothers, get ready to be outdone again!”

  Gabriel rolled his eyes. But then he smiled through gritted teeth as he took down another few living dead. As much as he teased him, he loved Uriel and respected him greatly.

  But he could not pass up the opportunity. “I hope you are keeping count, featherhead!”

  Uriel screamed, “CLEAR!”

  The angels pushed outward and made an opening for Uriel to push through the masses.

  He took his swords and held them out like a horizontal windmill blade. He then spun in a circle like a one-man cyclone. The blades created a moving fan that cut through zombie bodies and heads by the dozens.

  But there were so many of them.

  He created a kind of pathway for the angels to advance and find a moment of rest.

  But Uriel could not go on forever.

  When he stopped, the area around them was cleared. But he fell to the ground dizzy. He had spun the longest he had ever done with this signature move, but it had taken its toll. Even angels can become disoriented when pushed to the limit.

  And so he did not see the two zombies that had evaded the death spin.

  They jumped for him.

  Gabriel and Mikael had seen it coming. They threw their swords.

  One blade cut off the head of one zombie. But the second one merely lodged in the other’s chest cavity.

  That was not enough to stop the monster.

  The thing caught Uriel from behind and took a big bite off his back muscle. Uriel screamed in pain, and swung around blindly, cutting the thing’s head off. But he had been wounded, and even though angels healed quickly, this would not be a speedy recovery because of its occultic properties.

  They were all cut and bruised and wounded from their encounters, and now that they had a moment to rest, they realized that they too were impaired by the demonic magic of their cuts and gashes. Had they been humans, the wounds would have turned them into the walking dead as well. But angelic flesh was heavenly. They could be damaged by death magic, but could not be transformed by it.

  But they could be eaten. And that would split them in a thousand different pieces sitting imprisoned in a thousand different bellies. That fate was unthinkable to them.

  When they looked up, they discovered that they were already surrounded anew by a circle of hundreds more ravenous undead pressing in.

  They would not have the strength to finish this fight.

  • • • • •

  Down in the heat of the battle, Othniel had noticed that these Rephaim were not the same as the giants they killed at Jahaz. They were in every way superior. They were bigger, stronger, more skilled at warfare, and organized. The Israelite forces were weakening. They just didn’t have the vitality without their general in their midst leading them on. Othniel thought they needed a surge of new strength. They needed the faith and presence of Joshua and Caleb.

  Fortunately, Joshua was thinking the same thing as Othniel, because he almost fell out of the tree in his hurried rush from his perch down to his horse.

  When he landed, Caleb just looked at him and said, “It is about time, general.”

  Joshua barked, “To the battle!” and they were off.

  When Othniel saw them arrive at the fray, they were at full strength and pumped up with energy.

  Othniel knew that the soldiers would find inner renewal from seeing their general by their side slaying giants.

  And he was right.

  These titans were fierce and brutal. But they bled and they died like any other living creature.

  Joshua and Caleb jumped from their steeds. They were more versatile in their movements without them.

  Caleb unfurled his whip sword Rahab and faced six men surrounding him immediately. He twirled the blade around his head and cut them down as fast as Uriel with his windmill move. But this was not surprising considering Caleb was trained in the same Karabu technique as the archangel.

  Joshua pummeled several opponents with sheer force. He was fresher to the fight and he used that to his advantage.

  But then he faced his first giant, a ten foot tall blue grey Rephaim staring him down with venom in his veins and hatred in his eyes. The Rephaim roared and Joshua could see his double rows of teeth.

  The gargantuan had a double-headed battle-axe. The common axe head of many Israelites was the duck-billed socket axe. A fine instrument for piercing armor and bones. But this thing was the size of a round battle
shield with opposing curved semi-circular blades that cut completely through the small trees behind Joshua as he dodged the swings.

  SWOOSH! CRUNCH! SWOOSH! CRUNCH!

  The Rephaim kept coming, kept swinging. He was relentless. Joshua had to back up until he slammed into Caleb. Both of them turned to face the Rephaim.

  The monster swung down and the axe buried in the earth with an explosion of dirt.

  Joshua had just that second to spin around and come down on the giant’s left wrist with the full force of his sword blade. He cut clean through the giant’s flesh and bone. The Rephaim howled with anger and pulled back, its severed six-fingered hand lying on the ground. Blood was pumping from his mangled stump.

  But it seemed not to slow down. It only got angrier.

  It now came swinging the battle-axe with its right hand. It seemed to be as agile with one hand as with two.

  Caleb pushed Joshua back out of the way and took the titan’s attention. Caleb was eighty years old, but he was as strong and vigorous as a forty year old.

  And he was Karabu.

  He moved with the fluidity of a river and the grace of a butterfly as he wove a dance around the frustrated swinging of the giant.

  The giant’s anger made him sloppy and Caleb swirled his flexible blade behind him until he could find an opportunity to wrap it around the giant’s good arm and yank it back, slicing the arm from the body. It fell to the ground like a log and the giant screamed again.

  Joshua finished off the limbless monster by throwing his blade up and through his throat. It choked, gurgled and fell to the ground with a crash.

  Joshua retrieved his sword.

  He did not see the warrior behind him, about to pierce him through with spear.

  And Joshua also did not see the flying whirl of Rahab from six feet away snap off his attacker’s head with ease. The body fell to the ground on top of the dead Rephaim.

  At that moment, Joshua and Caleb understood fully that the general’s joining in battle had rallied his men with supernatural inspiration. Joshua was a powerful symbolic figure to them. His valiant presence gave them the faith they lacked.

  The Israelites were now on the offensive with the Rephaim. They used the trees as shields while the titans were being cramped by the trees as obstacles—just like Joshua had anticipated.

  More than a few of the immense warriors had gotten their heads knocked or tangled in low hanging branches, making them blinded easy prey for their adversaries.

  This was no battlefield for giants. Caleb could feel it. The tide had turned.

  But there was one last wave he had not considered. It came in the form of Og of Bashan plowing through his own forces to find Joshua and take him out.

  Og was no mere warrior. He was eleven feet tall and as experienced as the finest of warriors. He materialized through the dust of battle like a phantom wraith of doom. His black cape flowed behind him like a spirit. He wielded two mighty iron swords, one in each hand that brought death to everyone with whom they made contact.

  And he was headed straight for Joshua.

  • • • • •

  On the other side of the valley, the four embattled archangels faced certain demise. They were worn down, wounded, disoriented by the mesmerizing effect of the black magic, and they were surrounded by a raging horde of the living dead. They had killed hundreds of them, but there were hundreds more, and they had no strength left but to gasp for air. The swords had become heavy weights in their arms they could no longer wield.

  Except for Mikael, whose swinging blows Uriel noticed did not seem to waver. Uriel knew Mikael was the strongest of the four of them, but this endurance seemed more than usual. He could not spend any more energy on such distractions and focused back on raising his own heavy weight to smite the pressing hordes.

  And that was when it hit Gabriel.

  This confrontation with creatures very much like the Shades of Sheol, reminded him of a tactic Uriel had told them he had used so long ago when he was in Sheol with Noah and Methuselah facing the actual Shades.

  Gabriel reached into his cloak and pulled out his trumpet, put it to his lips and blew with the last breath in him.

  The sound rang out and moved like a concussive shockwave of power that flattened the entire army of undead surrounding them. They fell like dead weight under the rolling vibrations of Yahweh’s call to war.

  In a moment, it was all over. Everything was still. Everything was dead once again. Truly dead.

  The others looked at Gabriel.

  He said to Uriel, “Remember what you told us when you were with Noah in Sheol?”

  Uriel hit his own head like an idiot. “Of course! I cannot believe I did not think of that!”

  Gabriel explained, “I figured that since our trumpets had supernatural effect on the real Shades of Sheol, it might have a similar effect on these occultic imitations of Shades.”

  “More than that,” said Mikael. “This was dark earth magic of the underworld. Ashtart must have been developing it for generations. But the sound of Yahweh’s call to war broke the spell.”

  Then Uriel broke in, “Mikael, can I see your sword?”

  Mikael handed it to Uriel.

  It felt very light in his grip.

  Uriel said, “I thought something was strange when I saw you fighting with this. I knew you were strong, but this feels lighter than our swords. And a stronger metal.”

  Mikael apologized, “In all our busyness, I had forgotten to mention it to you. It is a new metal called ‘steel.’ An alloy of iron and carbon. Lighter and stronger than iron. It has yet to be revealed to humans.”

  Uriel complained, “It must be great to be the firstborn. You inherit all the best stuff. I get the leftovers and hand me downs.”

  “Uriel,” scolded Gabriel, “be thankful for what we have. Yahweh owes us nothing.”

  “I know, I know.”

  Mikael said, “We have no time to waste. Uriel, can you track down Molech? We need to stop him from getting any intelligence to Ba’al. Gabriel and Raphael can help me hunt Ashtart.”

  Uriel groaned and held his throbbing wound.

  Gabriel threw out, “That is unless Molech is just too much for you. We would totally understand if you were just too weak to handle that scourge by yourself.”

  He was at it again. Their perennial competition of egos.

  Uriel stretched through his pain and said, “No, no. That is all right. You three need all the help you can get for your single fugitive. I will take Molech all alone, by myself.”

  Raphael and Mikael smiled.

  But Gabriel would not be outdone. “Well, you can take Ashtart instead, if you would prefer.”

  They all knew full well that it would take them all to subdue the fearsome goddess of war, who was second only to Ba’al in power and chaos.

  But Uriel was second to none when it came to wit. He concluded their banter with a wink, “I will tell you what, I will catch back up with you three to help even the odds. Yahweh knows, you need it.”

  “Okay, you two,” said Mikael, “kiss and make up. We have gods to bind.”

  Uriel said, “I do need everyone’s help for one last thing before we embark on our hunting trip.”

  • • • • •

  Joshua faced off with Og. Caleb joined him. He was not going to let his general face this demonic titan alone.

  But the Rapha they recently dispatched was a juvenile compared to King Og of Bashan.

  He towered over them at twice their size. His six-fingered hands held his iron blades with an iron grip. And his armor was something Joshua and Caleb had never seen before. It seemed like something forged in the heavenly height of the pantheon of gods. That is because it was forged in the heavenly height of the pantheon of gods, Mount Hermon. And this was also why Caleb’s archangelic whip sword could not penetrate it. He cracked it at Og and it bounced off with sparks.

  Og swung at Caleb, who dodged and danced like a gust of wind.

  Karabu,
thought Og. He had seen this kind of fighting before. And he had learned how to counter it.

  Og immediately increased his focus on Caleb, who barely kept ahead of his attacks.

  Caleb’s sword sliced through the air in a wide arc. Og jammed his iron sword into its path and managed to get it wrapped by Caleb’s blade.

  His strength far outweighed Caleb’s. He yanked and the sword ripped out of Caleb’s grasp and flew into the air thirty feet away.

  Caleb was weaponless.

  He dove out of the way and picked up a round shield from a dead soldier to protect himself from Og’s slashing.

  That was when the sound of Gabriel’s trumpet penetrated the forest and vale from the other side of the city. When they heard it, the Israelites gained new strength and the upper hand in battle. It was as if they heard their own victory call and became empowered to finalize their triumph.

  The warriors of Bashan became frightened and began to withdraw.

  The Israelites chased them back to the city of Edrei. In the lead was the ever-determined brother of the mighty Caleb, Othniel.

  But Og continued to fight with Joshua and Caleb.

  Joshua’s training kicked in and he attacked with every ounce of force left in him.

  Og was driven back as he blocked Joshua’s slashes, thrusts, and hacks.

  And because he had focused on defending against Joshua, he had lost track of Caleb.

  So by the time he countered and began to push Joshua back, he did not know that Caleb was behind him—in a tree.

  And when Joshua backed Og against that tree, Caleb jumped.

  He landed on Og’s back and grabbed his collar with all his might.

  Og immediately layered both of his swords across his back and across Caleb’s back, and sliced them through Caleb’s body.

  But Og did not know that Caleb had shouldered his newly acquired shield against his back like a turtle shell.

  The iron blades dug through the shield, but they did not reach Caleb’s flesh.

  And Caleb was not without a weapon after all.

  He had pulled a dirk from his belt and jammed it in the base of Og’s skull underneath his headdress.

  Og screamed and backed up against the tree, crushing Caleb, who fell to the ground unconscious.