Last of the Nephilim

by Bryan Davis

  Sapphira continued to massage the bone. Within a minute, it shrank to the width of a straw and then vaporized. She blew on her hands, extinguishing the flames. Using one finger, she touched the white powder and mixed it into the soil. Soon, no trace of it remained on the surface.

  Still on her knees, she straightened and looked at the ovulum. “Anything else?”

  “No, my faithful child. You have done well.”

  “But what did I just do?”

  “You have fertilized our little garden. A time will come when fire will energize the soil, and any dragonkind, whether still with dragon essence or not, will have his or her dragon traits restored.”

  “You did this for Bonnie, didn’t you?”

  “Again you have guessed my purposes. Since I am unaware of her current state, I devised this plan to restore her traits if they are gone.”

  “I thought she was given a choice,” Sapphira said. “Why would you take it away now?”

  “If she chose to give up her traits before, and she wants that choice to go on, my plan will not work. But I suspect, with the current danger, she will want her wings whether she has them now or not.” The ovulum’s glow faded. “Now you must go back to the others and wait.”

  Sapphira slumped her shoulders. Wait? The word weighed down her heart. If only she knew how long the wait might be, it would be tolerable, but this would be like walking down one of the underground passages without a lantern. Nothing but gloom as far as the eye could see. No light at the end of the tunnel.

  As she picked up the ovulum and rose to her feet, every limb felt like lead. Why would Jehovah make her suffer so? Centuries ago at the hot springs, as a slave girl with a dangerously infected wound, she met Jehovah, knowing him as Elohim at the time. He had healed her with a touch on the shoulder and asked her to dance with him, and he provided the light she needed, the strength to go on.

  She closed her eyes and relived that night, pretending the spring was a fountain in a ballroom. In her imagination, when the touch on her shoulder flooded her skin with warmth, she turned and pointed at herself. Me? You want to dance with me?

  She painted the face of her invisible partner, giving him Elam’s features. He smiled and nodded. Of course, my love. I want to dance with you. As he took her hands, music filled the air. They stepped in time with the lovely tune, performing a waltz as elegant as any that had ever graced a dance floor, and when he spun her around, tiny droplets sprayed her skin with soothing coolness.

  As she drank in the pleasure, she opened her eyes, but instead of the museum’s dark inner chamber, she saw a ballroom filled with light. A real fountain shot sparkling water into the air, raining droplets over her and her dance partner. She gave his hands a gentle squeeze. Real flesh! She was really dancing with … Elam?

  Enoch himself stood next to the fountain, holding an open book in his hands.

  “Enoch?” Sapphira called, her voice quaking, “What’s happening?”

  Elam tilted his head. “Why are you calling for Enoch?”

  His voice barely loud enough to overcome the music, Enoch spoke through the fountain’s misty shower. “It is a gift from Jehovah, my child. It is the light at the end of the tunnel.”

  “Do you mean this is what will happen to me? Is it a wedding festival?”

  “I do not know. It is Jehovah’s gift, not mine. Enjoy what he has provided, and dance with your beloved.”

  The tree blazed with fire and disappeared along with the ovulum. Elam, now dressed in a radiant white tunic and trousers, his hair perfectly brushed and smelling of wildflowers, leaned close. “Yes, it’s a wedding festival,” he said. “Why do you find it hard to believe?”

  She pressed her cheek against his chest. “Hold me! Just … just hold me!”

  As he wrapped his arms around her, he swept her back into the dance. Barely able to move her feet with his, she cried into his shirt. The music rose to a crescendo, and the song she had heard so many centuries ago, when Elohim healed her body and soul, now returned, this time in the voice of Elam.

  So dance, my child, and feel my love

  In rain, the healing drops of life.

  Forsake your cares, your toils and pain,

  The wounds and scars of slavish strife.

  O cast aside the chains of grief

  And reach for heaven’s grace above;

  Sapphira Adi, dance with me!

  Enfold yourself in arms of love.

  She pulled him into a tighter embrace. His heart thrummed in her ear, beating faster and faster. The fountain rained down. Droplets joined the tears on her hot face. Even as her aching shoulder had found relief so long ago, now the water soothed her aching heart. Someday all of this suffering would end. Someday she would be with her love forever.

  But for now, she had work to do. She had to communicate this gift, the joy of Jehovah’s presence, a healing salve that would soothe hearts that ached to be with loved ones. No matter how long they had to wait in caves of darkness, someday they would emerge into the light, and they would learn that Jehovah’s purpose, the reason for their suffering, would not be in vain.

  “I have to go now,” she whispered.

  “I know.” Elam drew back.

  “I have something to tell you, something I’ve been wanting to tell you for hundreds of years.” Smiling, she took in a deep breath. “I lo—”

  “No.” He made a shushing noise. “Wait.”

  Her heart sank. “But why?”

  “I don’t want to hear those words until this dream comes true.” As he released her, he lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers. She waved back in the same way, smiling again as her tears flowed.

  Elam, the fountain, and the dance floor all faded, and the inner sanctum of the museum reappeared. Sapphira drew her hand to her mouth and kissed her fingers. “Someday, my love. Someday.”

  Sitting on the mobility room floor, Yereq rested his back against a pile of boulders. So far, though clouds blocked the sun, and cold air filtered into the pit, all was peaceful. After all, who could possibly rappel thousands of feet into this hole? And if anyone did, would he be ready to face a Naphil bearing a sword?

  Yereq pushed his hands behind his head. Even if a slayer could get past him, he still had to move the boulders, another unlikely feat, and find his way through the maze of tunnels. Yes, everything seemed safe enough. He could even leave on an occasional expedition for food, making sure to come back before anyone had time to dig through the rubble.

  He had already killed and salted a deer and then left its hide and some meat at a farmer’s doorstep, ample payment for the vegetables he had gathered from his garden. Yereq chuckled at the note Bonnie had written to the farmer, an eloquent missive that explained her plight as a teenager hiding from a stalking murderer. She begged him not to tell the authorities, lamenting that the murderer had friends in high places and would surely track her down.

  The gentle farmer, an elderly man who lived alone, had left a reply on the same doorstep, assuring her that she could have all she needed. He had only one request, that she would write to him regularly. Since he was all alone, except for three cats, he had no one else to talk to. Bonnie, of course, was delighted and promised to do so.

  As Yereq pondered how long his haul of supplies would last, an odd whipping sound drifted to his ears. He shot to his feet and searched the sky. A helicopter glided into view as it descended into the pit.

  Grabbing his sword, Yereq ducked into a crevice he had chiseled out for himself and watched the small helicopter. As it drew closer, its details clarified. The pilot, wearing sunglasses and a long-billed baseball cap, was unfamiliar. Yet, there was no mistaking the passenger—Mardon, his former master, older, to be sure, but his ovular head and piercing eyes were unequalled.

  The helicopter landed, raising plumes of dust and sweeping much of the gritty remains of the mobility room to the walls. When the blades slowed, Mardon jumped out and began to search the floor, brushing away pebbles with his shoe. The pilo
t, now brandishing a machine gun, stood at the side of the helicopter.

  Something on Mardon’s shoulder sparkled red. He looked at it and spoke, but he was too far away to hear, especially with the helicopter engine still running. The glint appeared to be a crystalline egg, smaller than a normal man’s fist.

  Mardon pushed his hands into his pockets and walked along the edges of the floor, looking up and down the walls. When he reached the pile of boulders, he stopped and picked up one of the smaller stones.

  Yereq tightened his grip on his sword. Should he strike? If Mardon escaped to the helicopter, he would know for certain that his prey had hidden somewhere behind the rubble. Then he would return with an army if need be to attack the giant who had vainly tried to kill him. If the pilot ripped into Yereq with a volley of bullets, they could take their time and enter the tunnel whenever they pleased.

  As Yereq tried to decide what to do, Mardon spoke. “You don’t sense anything?”

  The egg flashed red.

  “I followed the rope as far as I could. It’s just too thin, and we’d have to walk.”

  The red light faded and pulsed a steady, heartbeat rhythm.

  “This was your idea,” Mardon said. “Hiding here is really too obvious.” He dropped the stone and kicked it across the floor. “Try again. If you don’t sense anything, I’m not about to ferry an army of workers down here by helicopter to dislodge this mess.”

  The egg strobed so brightly, Mardon blocked it with his hand. “Save your rants and think logically. Of course there’s a pile of stones here. The tunnel to the mines collapsed. As I said, if you sense her presence, I’ll do whatever is necessary to get inside. Otherwise, we would be better off using your powers to locate the other dragons.”

  The egg’s light dimmed and changed to a softer hue.

  “We will follow that lead immediately. If we capture Legossi, we are free to destroy her any way you wish.”

  Now a blue light pulsed from within the egg.

  Mardon turned and ambled back to the helicopter, his voice fading. “Don’t worry. I’ll have someone check this place daily for any sign of life.”

  Soon, with Mardon again aboard, the helicopter rose into the air and flew out of sight. Yereq emerged from his hiding place, gripped the edges of a boulder, and pulled it away from the pile, revealing a hole, the waist-high doorway he had fashioned to allow the refugees an easier way to come and go if necessary.

  As he bent low to enter, he pushed his sword inside. He had to alert Sapphira and the others. They would want to know his new information. Perhaps they could risk using a bit more light energy.

  Now, of course, he would have to hunt at night to avoid detection, but that wasn’t a problem. He would do anything for Sapphira, including stumbling through a dark wilderness chasing yearlings up and down forested slopes.

  Once inside, Yereq picked up his sword and hurried through the tunnel, bending over to keep from banging his head on the ceiling. Yes, nothing had really changed. Unless the news gave Enoch reason to alter his orders, they would stay put. And maybe the prophet could help them understand why Mardon was now a dragon slayer.

  Chapter 21

  Mount Elijah

  Hey, Elam. We’re taking off now.”

  Elam shot up, blinking his eyes. After a few seconds, Billy came into focus, standing at the door to Abraham’s hut. “Taking off where?” Elam asked.

  Billy held up a walking stick. “To Mount Elijah. You asked me to tell you when we were leaving. The kids and I got a good nap, so we’re raring to go. Did you have something else you wanted me to do first?”

  “Give me a minute.” Elam pressed his hands against the sides of his head. Had he fallen asleep? The dream had pushed out every thought of Second Eden, his mission as Warrior Chief, and the looming war with Flint, Goliath, and their army. Oh, and what a dream! Dancing with Sapphira at their wedding, holding her close as a fountain sprayed cool water droplets over their heads. It was heavenly. Yet, it ended all too soon and was already fading from his mind.

  Trying to grasp the fleeting images, he caught a vision of Sapphira’s face. Tears of joy ran down her cheeks as she wiggled her fingers at him. Yes. That would be it. He would hold that keepsake image and never let it go.

  He focused on Billy again. “Did Acacia find a portal in the garden?”

  “Sort of. She couldn’t look through it, though. She doesn’t know why.”

  “Thanks.” Elam rose from Abraham’s cot and rubbed his eyes. “Report to me as soon as you get back.”

  “You got it.” As Billy walked out of sight, three others trooped behind him. Although he couldn’t see their faces, Elam nodded as he scanned them—Candle, Listener, and Acacia, each one hiking with lively steps. They seemed no worse for the wear after the big battle, though a bandage wrapped Acacia’s forearm, the only sign of injury.

  “Speaking of injuries.” He threw on a cloak and hustled outside. As soon as the breeze struck his face, he bundled the cloak together and fastened a belt at his waist. One of the villagers had said colder weather was coming, something about a season of death. But would frigid temperatures help or hurt their cause?

  When Elam reached the infirmary, Walter met him at the door, closing it behind him. “They’re trying to keep it warmer in there,” he said, pointing at the hut with his thumb.

  “Can’t blame them for that.” Elam bounced on his toes, trying to ward off the chill. “Anyone hear from Abraham or Valiant?”

  “Not here. I thought you’d be keeping track of that.”

  “I kind of fell asleep.” Elam looked around the village, but only a few people milled about. “Have you seen Patrick?”

  “He’s inside with Paili … or Ruth, or whatever her name is now.” Walter shook his head. “It seems like everyone’s either changing their names or going from dragon to human or back to dragon again.”

  Elam pointed at Walter. “Except you. You never change.”

  Stretching his arms, Walter replied with a yawn. “Maybe not, but I’d like to change into my warmest clothes and go to bed.”

  “No rest at all?”

  Walter angled his head toward the door. “We’ve been sleeping in shifts. I got a couple of hours. I’m okay.”

  “Feel up to joining a new military division I’m considering?” Elam rubbed his hands together, trying to generate some warming friction. “It’ll be cold and dangerous.”

  “Dangerous, as in ‘the likelihood of dying by any number of horribly painful methods is well above the risk that any normal human being would be willing to take’?”

  “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

  Walter shrugged. “Sure. Why make today any different from the last few days I’ve been through?”

  “I know what you mean. Anyway, I had a dream about Sapphira. You know her, right?”

  “Snow white hair, blue eyes that’ll knock your socks off, and fire shooting out from every pore?” Walter leaned against the wall and looked up at the sky. “Never heard of her.”

  Elam wanted to laugh, but he let only a smile come through. It was time to get serious. “Just before the dream ended, I saw Enoch standing by a fountain. He said something very strange, and the meaning didn’t dawn on me right away.”

  “Enoch has a way with words, that’s for sure. I met him on an airplane going to London, and he kind of shook me up. Ashley, too.”

  “Well, this time he said, ‘Let the Father find his way. You must prepare your army. They need to learn to fight from the air.’ I got the impression from Abraham that he thought this was a suicide mission for him. Since this is his world, it really isn’t any of my business, so I didn’t do anything to stop him. Enoch kind of confirmed my guess, and now I think he wants me to create an air force.”

  “Dragon riding?” Walter asked. “I’m up for that.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. We can ask Clefspeare, but he can’t take too much time away from watching the birthing garden, and Thigocia’s too in
jured. I’m not sure how equipped the native dragons are for warfare, but there is another option.”

  “The airplane?”

  Elam nodded. “It would be perfect for shuttling troops, patients, supplies, and maybe even attack runs if we can make bombs. But the most experienced pilot is a dragon now, and the other is on his way to Mount Elijah, so we’ll have to wait for him to get back.”

  “Ashley’s flown it. Well, at least she’s taken off in the Bannisters’ old plane, Merlin II. She never had a chance to land. It met kind of a fiery doom at the hands of a demon.”

  “So we could take off, but we might not be able to land.” He laughed under his breath. “I think we’ll wait for Billy.”

  “Let’s ask Ashley what she thinks. Maybe she can fly it.” Walter pushed the door open and breezed inside. Elam stepped in and guided the door with his back until the latch clicked. With several lanterns flickering throughout the spacious single room, undulating orange tongues snaked over every detail.

  Two rows of eight cots each lined the floor from wall to wall, leaving just enough space in between for people to walk by or tend to the wounded. Three cots lay empty, one in the far corner had been shoved to the side, a table of sorts for bandages and other supplies, and the rest held mostly male patients, each one covered with a thick blanket. Dark IV bags hung from makeshift wooden poles that stood near several of the cots, looking like small potato sacks dangling from coat trees instead of the typical sterile plastic and metal in Earth’s hospitals.

  Ashley knelt at the side of a younger man, barely more than a boy. With his blanket pulled down enough to expose his bare shoulders, she held her fingers over a wound just below his throat. Although the young man seemed unconscious, Ashley spoke to him as she lightly massaged his wound, her words too soft for Elam to hear. Two others tended patients at separate cots, Steadfast and Pearl, checking the IV apparatus and bearing worried looks.

  Walter walked straight to Ashley and stooped at her side. While the two chatted, Elam searched the room for Patrick. He sat on the floor with his head against the back wall, holding the hand of a woman sleeping in a cot that had been pushed away from the others. Although it was too far to tell for sure, she had to be Ruth, taking her turn to sleep.