Alan Price and the Colossus of Rhodes (The Nephilim Chronicles)

by Jonathan Yanez

  Alan felt goose bumps cover him from head to toe. He hoped it was the cool rush of the wind and not anxiety preparing to rear its familiar head. Thus far he chose not to think of the looming fight, whether or not this was the best option, it had kept him from falling victim to his nerves.

  Shouts from the Angels that led the front of the group drifted down to the trio. Samson and Deborah caught the words that escaped Alan. “What did he say?” Alan asked.

  “Two minutes out,” Samson said reaching for the giant axe that hung by his side.

  “You are going to be fine, Alan Price,” Deborah said. “You are one of us now and we take care of our own.”

  Chapter 66

  Everything was going to plan. Ardat hovered above the fight using her ability over gravity to either send her attackers sky rocketing into the atmosphere or plunging them down to the desert floor with such force they were buried deep within the sand. It was nothing to her. These actions required little thought or effort; it was child’s play.

  With a flick of her wrist, Ardat could dispatch almost anyone. Sweat ran down from her temples past her nose and to the corners of her mouth. Liquid salt puckered her taste buds as she continued to fight. She lost count on how many of her enemies she killed somewhere around thirty-four. They were ants to her. The only time anyone came close to doing her harm was when one younger Angel managed to sneak up behind her using his power of invisibility.

  Ardat felt the pressure of gravity change behind her just in time to catch him as he raced towards her on white wings. She smiled at him before sending him rocketing backward like a missile. His tiny form was almost lost to sight before he crashed into the mountain she used as her hideout, his body no doubt breaking on impact.

  Ardat brought a sleeved arm to her brow to clear her vision. The battle scene was changing. Dominic followed through with his orders. Angels were pulling back from the fight with her dark Nephilim and regrouping. No doubt following Michaels orders to meet the new threat surrounding them. Soon Michael, Ardat said to herself calmly amidst the chaos on the bloody sand. Soon there will be no more war and we will be free to be together again.

  Chapter 67

  Alan wasn’t sure what he expected to see but the scene that lay sprawled out below him was unlike anything his imagination could have conjured. Masses of swirling figures hundreds of feet below them fought and died on the sun-heated sand. Even from such a great distance, Alan could hear cries of the dying. Too far to distinguish exact guttural cries, Alan’s mind was left to give words to the shouts below.

  The Death Angels formed a circle around Sera who flapped her black wings slowly allowing her to hover in one spot. Alan had a more difficult time with this as his wings fought to discover the correct cadence to keep him still in one place. Behind him, Alan could feel the gust of wind that marked Danielle’s passing. She was going to find a safe spot to land and against Alan’s pleas for her to remain safe, join the fight.

  All eyes now were on Sera as she surveyed the scene below and barked instructions. “History is full of men talking about peace. Peace is not attainable without soldiers willing to sacrifice. Everyone wants to talk about victory as if it's something easily attained without sacrifice. Well it’s times like these that you and I give our sweat and blood to make victory a reality.”

  If Alan wasn’t so sure that the Death Angels were on his side, he would have put his ability of speed to use and retreat to the furthest corner of the world. The twelve warriors around him hovered now even more terrifying than anything he had ever encountered. Wings beating against the dry desert air, faces determined to kill and maim, softly spoke a chant that slowly began to pick up in speed and tempo. “Death is our sole purpose, killing our nature. Let all wickedness that stands against us fall under our righteous blade. We the Angels of Death, have never and will never taste defeat, the only thing we will ever taste is the blood of our enemies. Death is the only thing we bring.”

  As the chant gathered in momentum and volume Sera shouted instructions, “Alan, Jericho, with me. We’ll take out the giants pushing back the front of the line. The rest of you slaughter the Fallen who are encircling our brothers and sister.”

  The motto was repeated once more, Sera adding her voice to the group. Without thinking, without knowing if it was appropriate even Alan found himself repeating the words. “Death is our sole purpose, killing our nature.” No one stopped him as the words left his lips, so he continued.

  The scene was unlike anything Alan had ever experienced. The chant was a shout now, a roar that started deep within the chest of each warrior and exploded into the air. Energy encircled the group; adrenaline flowed to every bone and muscle in Alan’s body.

  With one final roar, the Death Angels broke rank and fell towards the battle below like powerful comets let loose by the galaxy. Alan was left alone flapping his wings before he realized what had happened. His mouth was dry, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Well,s it’s now or never.

  Alan inverted his body and forced his wings to carry him downward. He could see Sera and Jericho break away from the pack and head towards the opposite end of the battlefield. Alan said a silent prayer and beat his wings as hard as he could in their direction.

  Chapter 68

  Blood flowed from multiple cuts across Michael’s body. All around him, the Fallen’s superior weapons and freshness to the battle were overpowering the Angels, despite their valiant efforts. Although not much time had elapsed between when the first wave of enemies hit their front ranks and now, it was still enough to tire his Angels who traveled for hours before engaging in battle.

  Michael’s spear was broken. He abandoned the ruined shafts for an abandoned shield not properly used by its previous owner. His left wing was almost entirely red with his own blood. “To me! To me!” he screamed over the clamor of war. His Angels immediately responded, forming one long line that spanned as far as he could see. It was this line and this line only that protected his army’s rear that still fought the enemy Nephilim’s front. “Hold the line!”

  Michael wasn’t sure how far his ragged voice could be heard but he knew others would pass down the order. Without warning, the enemy crashed into their ranks again. Audible and physical elements permeated the air. The Fallen were much stronger than their Nephilim underlings. Each crash from the enemy brought not only a physical push but the wide variety of enemy abilities also bore down on them. Electric shocks, pointed icicles the size of spears and buckets of acid left Angels broken and bloodied.

  Michael’s shield began to crumble in his hands from burning black acid. Michael was left defenseless as a group of demons descended on him with swords and short spears. He tore out the throat of the first, knocked the second one unconscious but there were too many. Ardat’s voice played in his ears as he was pushed back and drug to the desert floor. Your Creator has forsaken you.

  Darkness covered Michael’s vision. He prepared himself for his final moments but something was wrong. His eyes weren’t closed, yet darkness still shaded him. The leathery fingers around his throat eased off as demons all around him cried out in fear. Angels were cheering. Michael’s attackers fell away from him as he raised himself on his elbows.

  Angels with menacing black wings were falling from the sky all around the battlefield. Each landing brought an impact more powerful than a shooting star. Waves of sand exploded into the air. Michael already knew what was happening. Despite the metallic taste of blood that dripped from his mouth he laughed. Alan and Danielle, against all odds, were successful in their mission.

  Chapter 69

  Alan’s eyes watered as wind struck him from all angles. Speeding towards the fight was one of the scariest things he had ever forced himself to do. The desert floor was a churning mass of the fighting and dying. Thousands of combatants fought for their own lives while trying to take their opponent’s.

  Alan had to tear his eyes from the mayhem of battle below. There was no time to take in the scene around him;
there was only time to react. Sera and Jericho were already in conflict with the first giant.

  He was easily ten times taller than Alan with a thick black beard and dark armor to match. Jericho was flying in front of a colossal Nephilim-turned-giant, dodging clumsy blows from the monster’s oversized club.

  As Alan considered his options, Sera sprang to action. The female leader of the Death Angels landed on the giant’s right shoulder; in the next second, she swung the blade of her sword across the giant’s throat. It was a perfect strike, landing between the bottom of her opponent’s helmet and above the ridge of his breastplate. Alan fought the urge to vomit as the oversized head fell to the ground with a sickening smack. Alan did his best to swallow the remains of his last meal before they insisted on also landing on the sand.

  A cheer rose as the giant fell but Alan knew their work was far from done. Sera and Jericho were already on their way to the next giant. Alan felt that even though they could handle the giants on their own it was his duty to help wherever he could. Instead of charging the same large enemy they chose as their next target he directed his path towards another,

  This twisted form of a large man was bald with crooked yellowing teeth and a hammer the size of a car. Alan chose his target because he seemed to be doing the most harm to his fellow comrades.

  Here we go, Alan said to himself willing his wings to pick up speed. Sword held tightly in his right hand, he flapped towards his enemy, gaining momentum by the second. He was planning to hit the giant’s left side with his sword and the full force of his weight, hoping that would be enough to topple his foe. Alan never got the opportunity to see if his plan would work. From amidst the chaos of battle below Dominic Drencher and Kyle Brown appeared out of nowhere. They launched themselves up off the ground and through the air. Both men tackled Alan before he reached his target.

  All three Nephilim tossed and twisted in the air. Alan would have been strong enough to carry them all had it not been for Kyle’s right arm grabbing onto and twisting his left wing.

  The world spun and contorted around him until Alan thought he was going to be sick after all. Still he managed to keep them airborne. What seemed like a full minute passed before exhaustion took Alan. With one final grunt, Alan decided that if he was going to go down, he was going to cause his enemies to suffer with him. Unsure of how high off the ground he was, Alan consented to the sand’s harsh embrace. Forcing both wings closed behind him, all three men plummeted to the desert floor.

  Kyle was on Alan’s left side clutching on like a small monkey onto its mother for safety; Dominic was holding on to Alan’s chest and shoulders tugging every few seconds in an effort to bring him down. Alan had a moment to choose who should withstand the worst of the blow. Even as the question presented itself, he knew.

  With more intensity than he used to slam Sera to the stone floor in the weapons room, Alan prepared to bring down Dominic. It wasn’t that hard. With Sera, Alan never wanted to hurt her; Dominic on the other hand was an entirely different feeling.

  Alan plummeted to the hot sand below at a speed approaching Mach 1. Releasing his sword, he prayed he would be able to find the blade again despite the chaos below. Both hands free he grabbed Dominic under the armpits and lifted him up until the two foes were engaged in an awkward embrace. Instantly, Dominic’s struggling stopped.

  Alan refused a smile that begged to spread across his lips as he practically felt his enemy’s thought process traveling from mysterious wonder to frantic realization. As the ground approached ever closer, it was too late for any of them to change tactics. With bone crushing intensity that forced all the air from Alan’s lungs, the unlikely trio slammed against the desert landscape. The impact was teeth shattering.

  Alan didn’t know where he was for a moment. Disoriented, he stumbled from his landing spot. They were in a completely different portion of the battlefield. Instead of giants and Nephilim waging war around them, Angels with white and black wings battled against what Alan could only guess were the Fallen. By the time Alan’s mind stopped spinning and he was able to make sense of his surroundings, Dominic Drencher was struggling to his feet.

  Alan forced his aching head to concentrate. Kyle was motionless a few yards to the left. Despite the harsh landing, Dominic was already conscious and wobbling in an attempt to stand. “Alan Price,” he said with venom in his voice, “I am so happy to see you again and to have yet another opportunity to kill you.”

  Alan forced himself to stand straight as images of their first and second meetings came to mind. Fear and anxiety told him to stay still and motionless. The anger lying deep within told him to take action before his enemy had the chance to gather himself.

  Images of Arther and Jacob filled his mind, the men who had lost their lives in an effort to save others. It was their memory that steeled Alan for the moments to come.

  Dominic leaned down to the desert floor and picked up an abandoned sword. The blade was clearly one of the Fallen’s new weapons. Fresh gore dripped off the dark blade in thick clumps. “I’ve been waiting for you, Alan,” Dominic shouted over the uproar of war. “This is going to hurt you more than it’s going to hurt me. Maybe even as much as your two friends you lost on the ship when you got those flashing blue rave wings.”

  Alan felt rage swell in his heart at the mention of his dead friends. Instead of words, he felt his wrath take the form of physical action. His legs began to churn underneath him.

  First surprise then sadistic glee crossed Dominic’s face as he witnessed the once timid Alan Price now charge him on the battlefield. Dominic started running forward to intercept his opponent. Sword in his left hand, Dominic also raised his empty right hand. Energy began to gather in his palm. His Nephilim ability was manifesting just as Alan remembered it from the fight on the cargo ship.

  With a laugh befitting a maniac, Dominic began sending bolts of explosive energy at Alan. On instinct more than intention, Alan’s wings moved forward and swatted away every explosive attack Dominic launched. No pain touched his wings as they made contact with Dominic’s power or explosive energy. No burning flesh wafted to his nostrils.

  Dominic’s face twisted into a mask of rage as the two men raced towards one another. Alan was ready for what was to come. With the last distance of hot sand eaten away, the two warriors clashed. Dominic raised the sword high and brought it down on Alan’s uncovered head.

  Alan’s speed saved him once again. His right hand caught Dominic’s left arm at the wrist. Dominic roared in anger unable to move under Alan’s superior strength. The dark Nephilim began charging yet another blast of explosive energy in his right hand. Alan prepared to intercept the attack. What he wasn’t prepared for was Kyle’s reentry to the fight.

  Alan felt Kyle jump on his back and place a forearm around his throat. “What are you doing, Alan? It doesn’t have to be like this. You can still join us. We can rule over the humans together. We aren’t weak anymore. We have powers that will make us gods among men.”

  Kyle’s ability to replicate any other Nephilim’s power gave him the strength to match Alan. Right hand unable to release the hold on Dominic’s wrist, Alan moved his left hand to Kyle’s forearm placed around his throat. He tore at Kyle’s arm until he could breath. “Kyle, they’ve lied to you. Stop, stop this.”

  The red energy charge in Dominic’s right hand was still growing. Sweat beaded down the madman’s face as he prepared to deliver a devastating blow to Alan’s chest. He was so close, Alan could smell the sulfur building; he could see the madness in Dominic’s dilated pupils. “Today is the day you finally die, you blue-winged freak!”

  Instinctively, Alan knew what he had to do. If he was going to die, he could accept that. In a strange sort of way, he almost welcomed the idea. No more depression, no more fear, it would all be over. Just as easily as the acceptance of death crossed his mind, so too did the realization that it was up to him to avenge his fallen teammates’ death. If he was going to die, then they were all going to die. R
eleasing the hold on Kyle’s arm Alan surrendered to the choke. Instead, he wrapped his left arm around the back of Dominic’s neck and drew him close. “A long time ago I tried to kill myself,” Alan choked out the words. “Now I know why I wasn’t able to: because we were all meant to die together.”

  Alan could feel Kyle’s hold ease the slightest bit in confusion at his surprising comment. Dominic also hesitated for a split second before a wicked smile spilt his lips. “That’s the spirit, Alan. If things only could have been different, we may have been friends. Well, see you in the next life, kid.” Dominic pressed his right hand holding the massive amount of stored swirling red energy to Alan’s chest.

  Alan had one last chance for a rebuttal before they all went up in the flames of the explosion. He wished he could come up with a witty one-liner or a cool phrase to say. Instead he just smiled and said, “I don’t think we’re going to the same place. And you still owe me a pair of slippers.”