Last of the Nephilim

by Bryan Davis

  Her eyes flared. She trembled in his grip, and her chest heaved over and over. Elam looked down at her pocket. Her fingers clutched something through the material, something that wiggled violently.

  Elam stared at her. Had she stifled her companion? If so, why? That couldn’t be normal behavior for the people here, but should he dare to challenge her, one of the most respected citizens of this world? Abraham had said that if a woman could possibly live as a saint without need of a companion, Angel would be that woman.

  Slowly turning, Angel looked into the birthing garden. Her eyes locked on something well beyond the influence of the lantern lights.

  Elam followed her gaze. A movement disturbed the backdrop. Was it a shadow? A branch blown by the wind?

  Then, as if buoyed by the whispers of a friend, she straightened her body, turned back to the crowd, and lifted her voice, loud and strong. “Elam asked if Enoch commanded the change to the prophecy. He wanted a straight answer. I am now ready to give it.”

  When she took a breath to speak again, a shout sounded from somewhere in the crowd. “Excuse me!”

  Elam scanned the field and spotted a gray-haired man weaving through the seated villagers. “One moment, please!” the man called, a finger raised as he made his way toward the front. “I would like a word with you.”

  Elam blinked. Could it be? He could barely speak the name. “Patrick?”

  As the man strode past the front row, he pushed his hair back and tried to catch his breath. “Yes, yes, of course. I’m glad you recognized me. A fellow by the name of Cliffside detained me at the garden entrance for several valuable minutes, but I managed to convince him that I knew you.”

  Elam embraced Patrick. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have not yet figured out all that is happening, but you should know that Billy Bannister, his father, and Sir Barlow are here. A young girl named Listener is leading them on a mission to find Abraham. I hope they return—”

  The buzz of an approaching airplane interrupted him. It flew directly overhead and headed for the dragon launching field on the other side of the village.

  Patrick nodded toward the sky. “They are here. I assume they will be with us in a few moments.”

  “We can’t wait!” Angel cried. “We don’t know if they found Father Abraham or not, and the moon will be too high before they can walk over here. Remember the prophecy.” She changed her voice to singsong and chanted part of the poem Abraham had recited not long ago.

  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.

  As soon as she finished, she stared at Elam, breathing rapidly.

  Elam looked up at the moon. Rising above the tree line, its shadows had retreated, now barely covering the garden. “She’s right. We have to press on.”

  Her body shaking, Angel tiptoed toward the crowd. “I’ll get out of the way and—”

  Elam grabbed her arm again. “Not before you finish what you were about to say.”

  She looked at Elam’s grip, then back at Elam. Her expression sagged, and tears formed in her eyes. “Why do you doubt me, Elam? You are treating me like an ignorant child.”

  Grimacing inwardly, Elam released her. What had he done? He was a stranger in this land, an alien ready to project the lying ways of his own world onto the citizens of innocence. Even if he was sure Angel was lying, how could he possibly assume a judge’s chair and be her accuser? Only Abraham could do that. And what if she was telling the truth? Of course it was possible. Maybe she was acting strangely because she was so unsure of herself. After all, she was taking Abraham’s role by communicating the commands of Enoch. The people were obviously surprised that she had even spoken to Enoch, so stepping into the Prophet’s shoes had to be a very uncomfortable act.

  “Elam?” Angel said, her voice trembling pitifully. “What do you want me to do?”

  Elam heaved a deep sigh. “Just tell us all what Enoch said. I will believe you.”

  “Very well.” She turned toward the crowd and, still clutching her pocket, she shouted, “Enoch commanded the change to the prophecy! He said we must call for the dragon!”

  As soon as the words spilled forth, she clutched her chest, gasping. Her knees buckled, and she dropped to her seat. With frantic fingers, she dug into her pocket and withdrew her companion. It lay in her palm, a faint light strobing within its dull glass. She stared at it, then touched it with her fingertip, but it didn’t move.

  While the crowd fell silent, Elam stared at Angel. Had she lied after all? He clenched his fist so tight, his fingers ached. If only Abraham were here! He was the only one with the authority and wisdom to judge his people, and even he had said that once the lie was uttered, there was no turning back.

  Valiant stepped up to Elam and gripped his forearm. “I advise you to proceed, Warrior Chief. If the harvest of wheat must be shaken to filter the chaff, then so be it.”

  Elam gazed into Valiant’s deeply set brown eyes—sincere, honest, resolved. Finally, as every gaze in the crowd locked on him, Elam let out another sigh and turned toward Paili. “Sing your song, and change the words as Angel has requested.”

  Billy scrambled down the airstair, followed by Sir Barlow. They reached up, each grabbing an arm as they helped Abraham to the ground. When Billy’s father joined them, Abraham grasped Billy’s sleeve. “Run ahead of us. With my injuries, we will be too slow.”

  “Sure.” With a quick jerk, Billy tightened his back scabbard. “Which way to the garden?”

  Abraham pointed toward the village. “Do not go directly through, or Cliffside will delay you with many questions.” He then drew a loop in the air. “Go around to the left, climb over the rock wall, and stay low as you run between the thornbush hedges. Then you will climb through the gap created by two stately fir trees and come out of the forest on the west side of a field that lies between the birthing garden and the village. On nights when Pegasus rises full, that gateway is not well guarded, so, if you keep your head down, you should be able to get into that part of the field undetected.”

  Billy gave a firm nod. “What do I say when I get there?”

  “Tell them I will be there in mere moments, but if the ceremony has already begun, you must simply wait. Once the Oracle approaches the portal, we cannot stop what has been set in motion. I will have to see what I can do when I arrive.” Billy’s father and Sir Barlow each put a shoulder under one of Abraham’s arms and began helping him limp toward the village.

  Billy took off to the left in a full sprint. Within seconds, a waist-high stone wall came into view. Leaping from one foot, he vaulted the wall, landed on a stony path, and kept running, barely breaking stride.

  Hedges bordered the path with thornbushes rising to his shoulders. He lowered his body, checking the hilt of his sword as he continued his awkward dash. After about a hundred yards, the hedges ended, and the path changed to hard dirt. It led into a forest of tall evergreens that blocked the way with low bushy branches.

  Knocking the branches aside as he slowed his pace, he burst into a clearing and stopped. A vine-covered fence stood in his way, too high to leap over. He searched for the tall firs. Just to the right, two enormous trees served as support posts for the fence. He dashed toward them and stopped again just a few feet away. The trees grew so close together, their trunks were joined in a single mass near the ground, and they allowed just a foot or so of space between them as they reached toward the sky.

  He turned sideways, set his foot into the “V” where the trunk split, and squeezed into the gap. After scraping the sword against the bark, he pushed through and rushed out into a meadow about the size of two football fields.

  Flickering lantern light covered the grassy expanse, illuminating at least a hundred people kneeling or sitting cross-legged in orderly rows, each one looking toward Billy’s left where a flat section of land with plowed furrows do
minated the area. A dark form rose from the ground halfway between him and the crowd. It stretched out a long neck and slowly curled in its wings, making its identity clear.

  Billy burst into another sprint and slid to a stop near the dragon. “Thigocia!” he whisper-shouted. “It’s me!”

  Thigocia whipped her neck, bringing her head toward him. “Ashley! Walter! It’s Billy!”

  Walter appeared from around Thigocia’s body. “Hey!” He leaped toward Billy and wrapped him in his arms. “Great to see you! You’re just in time!”

  “Super! What’s happening here?”

  Ashley appeared from the shadows, her arms crossed and her brow bent low. “Something sinister.”

  “Yeah,” Walter said. “Elam’s trying to sort things out, but without Abraham, the village leader, it’s hard to know what’s up.”

  Billy jerked his thumb toward the forest. “Abraham’s coming. I have to tell Elam before the ceremony starts.”

  The lanterns faded all across the field. At the front of the crowd, two girls, one of them wearing a cloak and carrying blue fire in her uplifted hands, walked into the garden.

  Walter dropped to a crouch and lowered his voice. “Elam’s the young guy at the edge of the garden, the one who looks like he’s in charge, but I think you’re too late.”

  “You mean the ceremony’s already started?”

  Walter nodded toward the cloaked girl. “She’s got her fire going, so I’m pretty sure it’s under way.”

  “Then we’ll just have to wait. I guess Abraham will figure out what to do when he shows up.”

  Ashley stared straight ahead. “I sense an evil presence, a powerful mind. It feels strange, as if it’s close, yet something is blocking its entry. It’s like a madman chopping at the door with an axe, but he can’t seem to break it down. I can tell, though, that his heart is set on murder.”

  Thigocia reared up to her haunches. “I sense danger, as well, growing stronger every second.”

  Billy pulled his sword from its scabbard. “We’d better get ready.”

  Walter drew Excalibur. “I can’t get it to work here.”

  “Let me try.” Billy and Walter swapped swords. As Billy wrapped his fingers around Excalibur’s hilt, he sucked in a quick breath. It had been a while since he last held the great sword, and he had longed for the feel of its warrior heart. Flexing his biceps, he willed the blade to flash to life, but its dull silvery metal merely reflected the moon’s yellow glow.

  Loosening his grip, he peeled back his fingers and looked at the hilt. Two gems gleamed, crystal clear, about the size of dimes. He flipped the sword over and felt for the depression. As the professor had indicated in his journal, the red gem was missing.

  “When we’re done here,” Billy said, handing Excalibur back to Walter, “I’ll have to tell you about something Prof discovered. Maybe it will explain why it’s not working.”

  “I think it’s because we’re in the Twilight Zone. Everything’s crazy.”

  Billy looked at the garden again. One of the two girls backed out, while the other stayed and began singing a song.

  “Whatever’s supposed to happen,” Billy said, “I think it’ll be any minute.”

  Thigocia lowered her head, creating a staircase with her neck. “Everyone get on. We might need to fly into action at a moment’s notice. I think my wings will last.”

  While Billy climbed aboard, Ashley stooped near Thigocia’s head. “Mother, I sense another mind, someone … familiar.”

  “Familiar? Who?”

  She straightened and turned toward the garden. “I’m not sure. It’s just an impression, but it’s out there somewhere. Someone friendly. Someone who’s also trying to get here.

  Standing on tiptoes, Walter leaned toward the rows of shadowed plants. “I can’t see anything.”

  Ashley bent over and skulked down a row. “You two go with Mother,” she called back. “I’ll follow my nose.”

  “You’re not going in there without me!” Walter rushed to join her, and the two faded into the shadows.

  As Thigocia turned her head back toward Billy, her red eyebeams swept across his chest. “Get your sword ready, warrior. The greatest danger I have sensed in my thousands of years is building to a crescendo. As Ashley said, murder is on someone’s mind.”

  Chapter 16

  The Seed Bears Fruit

  Elam held his breath. Not knowing if he had made the right decision was maddening. If they had waited to see if Abraham had arrived on the plane, which was extremely unlikely, it might have been too late to perform the ceremony at all. Still, Angel’s claim seemed to hang in the air like a foul odor. Yet, if he wanted to heed Abraham’s warnings, he couldn’t stop the proceedings. A simple word change wouldn’t do much damage, would it? As he watched Paili approach the garden’s edge again, he murmured, “I guess we’re about to find out.”

  Her countenance grim, Paili faced the rows of plants. Acacia stood behind her and flared her cloak. Shadows veiled the little girl as she lifted her hands and called out, “Let everyone extinguish their lanterns, and I will begin when the last light fades.”

  Across the field, flickering lights waned and then died out. When all was dark except for the rising moon, Acacia let go of her cloak and raised her hands, her fingers slightly curved as if she were holding two balls. Blue flames sprouted from her palms, sparkling and alive with effervescence, rising and swelling until they looked like two bowls overflowing with iridescent soup.

  Paili began to hum in a rhythmic beat as the two walked single file along one of the garden’s furrows. The blue glow expanded and coated their bodies as it illuminated their way. When they reached the edge of a nearly vacant section of ground, they stopped. Like a transparent shroud, the radiance bathed the circular area, making everything within its influence pulse with an eerie light. A single birthing plant at the center of the loose soil throbbed, alternating shades of light brown and bright red. Scattered bones emanated a frosty white incandescence, as if painted with a luminous dye.

  Acacia waved her uplifted arms in a tight circle. The bowls of fire spun and twisted, lengthening vertically into twin columns of rotating blue flames. Leaning back, she threw the two columns into the vacant section. As soon as they touched the ground, the flames spread out and crawled along the circular patch, covering the soil until it looked like the garden had sprouted thousands of tiny glittering sapphires.

  When the fire reached the edges, the outer flames stopped and began to rise, curving back toward the center and making a head-high dome over the single plant. The bones inside sizzled and popped. As the flames ate away at their pale coats, their white glow transformed to blue.

  Acacia backed away, then turned and joined the mesmerized crowd, leaving Paili standing alone, a mere arm’s-length from the curved edge of the flaming dome.

  She lifted her hands and began to sing, her voice deepening to the pitch of a young woman, a lovely, haunting alto that carried across the field.

  When phantoms knock on doors of light

  To open paths to worlds beyond,

  A friend replies, “Insert the key

  To leave the dark and greet the dawn.

  “The key is light, the words of truth;

  No lie can break the chains of death.

  A whispered word of love avails

  To bring new life, the spirit’s breath.”

  So now I sing a key for you,

  The phantom waiting at the door;

  We call for you, the dragon who

  Will join us now in holy war.

  As soon as her last note died away, another shout sounded from the back of the crowd, Abraham’s voice ringing across the field. “Elam!”

  Every head turned. The moon revealed two figures helping a third walk toward them. When they arrived, the two men helped Abraham stand on his own. Elam recognized both men, Jared Bannister and Sir Barlow.

  Acacia lifted a lantern. “Give me light!” she called.

  The wick
flashed and burned brightly, revealing deep scratches in crisscross patterns on Abraham’s face.

  Elam grabbed Abraham’s forearms. “What happened to you?”

  “Never mind me! What happened here?” Abraham looked down. Angel sat near his feet, gazing up at him with tear-filled eyes. Her mouth hung open, and her companion lay motionless in her palm.

  He dropped to his knees and set his hand under hers. “Dear Maker in Heaven! What has she done?”

  Suddenly, the ground trembled. Elam spread out his feet and braced himself. The moon peeked over the surrounding trees and cast its light on the garden. A dark shadow rose near the center, growing taller with every second, as if pushed out of the soil by the quaking earth. Soon, the trembling eased, and the shadow stopped growing. Bending and stretching, it slowly took shape.

  Elam whispered to Abraham. “Is that the warrior? Could it be Makaidos?”

  “I sense darkness,” Abraham replied. “I sense disaster.”

  Angel rolled her fingers around her companion and rose to her feet, her voice spiking in a pitiful squeak. “Dragon? Is that you?” She stumbled into the garden, barely missing one of the plants as she staggered along a row.

  Acacia waved an arm across the crowd and called, “Awake, every wick!” More lanterns flashed to life, and as the villagers lifted them, their light washed over the entire garden.

  Angel stopped in front of the dark form. It morphed into a human shape, and its ebony coat melted away, like black wax dripping down a candle. Soon, a man’s face appeared, his eyes shining.

  “Dragon!” Angel leaped toward him, but her arms passed through his body. Without the expected catch, she fell forward and hit the ground with her knees, chest, and face. Valiant jumped into the garden, brushed by Dragon, and helped Angel to her feet. Valiant propped her up, and the two stared at the strange specter.

  A smile spread slowly across his ghostly face. “Since you have called me into this realm, you probably expect me to feel sympathy for your little tumble.” Shaking his head, he sighed a “tsk, tsk, tsk.” “Soon all your people will learn that the dirt on your face is exquisitely appropriate.” He walked to the edge of the garden and nodded at Abraham. “You knew I was coming, didn’t you?”