Alan Price and the Statue of Zeus (The Nephilim Chronicles Book 3) (9 page)

Danielle was too strong to cry, still her glasses fogged as she ran to him and wrapped her arms around him. “Alan, I knew if I could just hold him off, you’d come.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

Alan accepted her embrace and returned one of his own. His eyes looked over her shoulder and took in Raphael. The Archangel’s eyes were glossed over. He had sunk to his knees, his arms splayed out on either side. His expression was one of wonder and fear, of horror and haunted memories.

Alan broke himself free from Danielle’s embrace. “Get up!” he shouted at the Archangel as he stalked forward. Men and women, even Danielle, were all fighting for their survival across the battlefield. But here, the leader of the Archangels was on his knees refusing to take up arms. “Danielle could have died because of you.” Alan shouted as he grabbed Raphael by the shoulders. “Get up and fight. Do what you were trained to do; what the oaths you took require you to do.”

When Alan lifted Raphael to his feet, the man didn’t resist. He was like putty in Alan’s hands, as if he had lost all strength or will to resist. Alan was preparing another tirade of words he hoped would bring the Archangel to his senses. Another look into Raphael’s shocked eyes was enough to tell him no amount of yelling he did would push Raphael to enter the fight.

Alan felt a hand on his shoulder, it was Danielle, “Alan, let him go. Kassidy and Esther need you.” As if to add weight to her words, a girl’s scream split the sky. Alan turned to look, Raphael still in his hands.

Esther had finally fallen, beaten back by the horde of demons. Kassidy was in the hands of the demon Alan had met earlier that day. The same demon with dreadlocks who had accompanied Trubic and Sodom to the conversation before the fight.

As much as he wanted to slap sense into Raphael, he couldn’t—others needed him. Alan stared into Raphael’s unblinking eyes one last time. He shook the Archangel to punctuate each one of his words. “You see her? Do you see her? You failed Uriel and she is dead. There is nothing you can do about that. But you can save Kassidy; she needs you. She needs you right now.”

“Alan,” Danielle pulled gently on his shoulder again.

Alan looked at the Archangel one last time in disgust before releasing his hold. Without another word, Alan raced across the sand scooping up a sword as he did. The demons were retreating back to the frontline were there was no doubt a plan to break through the shield wall and escape with Kassidy as captive.

Kassidy was unconscious or worse, slung over the demon’s shoulder who had led the charge into the camp. An entourage of black-cloaked demons ran with him. Alan raced across the terrain kicking up shovels of sand behind him. Granted with both the ability to fly and run at an astonishing pace, Alan chose to run now. With any luck he could sneak up behind them and take them by surprise.

His luck wouldn’t hold. The dreadlocked demon glanced behind him with a smile. His eyes caught Alan as if he were almost happy to see him. Alan was still too far away to hear the words exchanged but the demon leader handed Kassidy’s limp frame to one of his soldiers. The soldier took the added weight with a nod and he and the rest of the Fallen angels continued to run in retreat. Only the dreadlocked demon stayed to meet Alan. “I was hoping you would come. It is not every century I am able to test my metal against the Horseman of War.”

Alan skidded to a halt in front of the man as his eyes continued to track the retreat of Kassidy’s captors. “I don’t have time for this,” Alan muttered as he ran. He lifted off the ground and began to fly over his would be opponent.

Rolf reached behind his back and whipped his arm forward sending an object whirling towards Alan faster than Alan’s eyes could track. Alan was pulled down in a net so thick each strand was like a rope. The net weighed him down until he lost all ability to fly. Every time he flapped his wings, he became even more tangled in the weighted structure. “I should introduce myself if we are going to do this properly,” the demon said as he walked towards Alan. “I am Rolf and in all fairness you should know my abilities since I already know yours. That would put us on an even playing field, yes?”

Alan gritted his teeth. Sand had made its way into his mouth when he struck the ground and crackled between his molars as he gathered strength.

“You see,” Rolf continued as he walked around Alan’s trapped frame. “I have the ability to summon creatures of the supernatural kind. Paired with this, I’m not too shabby with a net, as you can see.”

Alan gripped two sections of the net holding him to the ground and bent his strength to their undoing. With a grunt, he tore the thick ropes apart and stood shaking himself from his entrapment. “I wish this was the time, Rolf,” Alan said “but it will have to wait until another day.”

Alan turned his back on the man but before he could begin running or flying after Kassidy, Rolf snapped his fingers. He had summoned a creature that took shape right in front of Alan. Alan took a step back from the beast. Materializing out of what seemed like the air itself, a monolithic shape took form in front of Alan. It rose like a tree planted firmly in the ground. The creature was nothing like Alan had ever seen. It was a twisted shape of something that looked like a giant. Standing on its two back legs, it looked down on Alan through a single large brown eye seated in the middle of its forehead. The cyclops was at least three stories high.

For the first time in the course of the battle, Alan felt fear. Staring into the unnatural beast’s eye, Alan was forced to remember who he was and the mantel of responsibility weighing on his shoulders. If he was going to be the Horseman of War, then there was no room for fear.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Rolf asked as he walked to his creature and rested a hand on her right leg.

Through his battle with fear, Alan couldn’t help but notice the fatigued tremor in Rolf’s voice. New beads of sweat ran down the demon’s forehead. Summoning a creature of this size must have been taxing for him. Rescuing Kassidy was still at the forefront of Alan’s mind, yet it was clear Rolf would not let him pass without a fight.

Alan squared his shoulders and prepared for the battle. Bringing his sword hand up, he pointed the tip at the mythological monster then to the demon. “Come then, both of you. If it’s death that you want, let’s get this over with.”

Rolf didn’t waste time with words. Demon and his summoned atrocity fell on Alan at once. Alan took to the air, avoiding a barrage of nets from Rolf and large swinging limbs from the creature. Alan maneuvered in the open air backing way when he had to, striking whenever he could. Dodging either the nets or the gigantic cyclops’ hairy arms alone would have been a difficult task. Together, the barrage was nearly impossible.

The Alan sliced through the air weaving in and out of the attacks. The cyclops’ arms that shout out to grab him were each the length of Alan’s body and as thick as tree trunks It was all Alan could do to avoid the attacks. When he did have an opening, he struck with his sword; to his dismay the cuts made were shallow and didn’t seem to phase the monster.

“Do you need help, Horseman?” Rolf mocked him from below. “I can do this all day.”

“But you won’t have to.”

Alan had to do a double-take as the new voice drifted up to him from somewhere below. Through the onslaught of the cyclops’ clawing arms, equipped with long nails that nicked and cut his side and wings, Alan saw Raphael. The sight was so unexpected and unbelievable, Alan had to convince his eyes that what he was seeing was real.

The Archangel appeared unexpectedly and charged Rolf. A second after Raphael spoke, he tackled the demon and the two men fell to the sand locked in combat. Alan couldn’t help a smile touch his bloody lips. A jab from the cyclops that bounced off his breastplate was enough for Alan to refocus on his own enemy.

With renewed vigor, Alan spun through the air forming a new plan. Free now to pick and choose his openings, Alan studied the monster. The cyclops was a giant with armor-like thick skin; the only place the morbid beast seemed open to attack was its eye that rested on the middle of its forehead.

Alan parried another hairy arm aside as he ordered his wings to propel him forward. Aiming straight for the cyclops’ eye meant coming close to the pair of evil looking tusks and sharp teeth that made up its mouth but what other choice did Alan have?

Spurred on by Raphael’s entrance to the fight, Alan roared as he charged forward. The cyclops welcomed him with an eager grunt of its own. Its breath was paralyzing as Alan caught the rotting odor inside the monster’s open mouth. Alan dodged the cyclops’ two long tusks, each the size of his torso, and moved to the side just in time to avoid the beast’s snapping jaws. Alan landed on the cyclops’ hard head, just above its dark brown eye. Alan knew at this point hesitation could mean death. Summoning the rage inside, he channeled the energy from his wings gathering the force until it crackled and spun all around him. Both hands on the hilt, blade pointed down, Alan drove the sword into the middle of the cyclops’ eye.

The blade sunk in hilt deep, swallowed by the soft tissue of the giant’s eye. A screech unlike anything Alan had ever heard erupted from the creature as it fell down on all fours. It rolled and writhed on the ground threatening to buck Alan from his precarious position. With all his strength, Alan held on to the sword and continued to channel the energy from his pulsing wings through his body and into his sword. A steaming charred cloud of smoke came from the wound as Alan pushed deeper and deeper.

Then it was over. With one last exhale, the monster’s buffeting came to a stop. Alan stood on top of the giant, saturated in dark blood and bathed in the awful smell of the cyclops’ burned flesh. Alan disregarded the blade as he remembered Raphael’s own entrance to the fight. Alan jumped off the dead mythological beast and scanned the beach for Rolf and Raphael.

They weren’t hard to spot. Rolf was standing over Raphael’s body clutching his own head in pain. Rolf screamed in anger as he witnessed the fall of his summoned cyclops. It was clear to see both the demon summoner and his summoned cyclops shared a link.

Alan didn’t wait to ask questions as he rushed to the fallen form of his friend. Rolf saw Alan coming and backed away in retreat, uttering threats in his wake. Still holding his head, Rolf shouted, “This isn’t over, Horseman. I’ll see you again very soon.”

As much as Alan wanted to chase the retreating enemy, he knew Raphael needed him the most. The Archangel was a bloody mess. His face was covered in a mixture of sand and fresh blood. Alan dropped to his knees and cradled his friend’s head in his arms. “Raphael,” Alan said trying to fight back the panic he heard and hated in his voice, “can you hear me?”

Raphael’s eyes cracked and he gave a weak nod. “I’m still here. Apparently, not the warrior I once was.”

Alan felt relieved to hear the Archangel speak, “Just rest. Don’t try to talk. I’ll get Danielle to heal your wounds.”

The Archangel struggled to his feet despite Alan’s motions to rest. “Have her save her strength to heal those who actually fought today. I’ll be fine. A few scrapes and cuts never killed me before.”

Alan stood next to the man in shock. Something had changed. Raphael’s voice was firmer, his back straighter. “Go,” he said waving his arms, “Stop gawking at me. There are wounded who need care.”

Alan turned to leave but was addressed again before he could take two steps. “And, Horseman,” Raphael said. “I’m sorry for not acting sooner. You were right. We can still help Kassidy. I just need to get my powers back.”

Michael pushed himself off the ground. The base of his skull was throbbing. His vision began to clear as he staggered and battled to regain his bearings. He was still underground in the Shaman’s base; at least, he thought he was. Everything looked familiar except all the vials and scrolls that lined the shelves in the room were now gone. The chamber was completely bare. Likewise, neither the Shaman nor Ardat were anywhere to be seen… Ardat.

Michael placed both hands on the sides of his head as he pushed through the pain to focus on remembering what happened. The events played backwards through his mind. Eventually, the events leading up to him waking from his unconsciousness were clear, but why?
Why would she betray me again?

A new pain that started at his heart and seeped to his head began. A pain Michael bottled immediately and focused on thinking with his head and not his heart.

Ardat used him to get to the Shaman and that was the fact. Now he needed to get back to Esther and Seraphim and let them know what happened. Kyle’s trail was lost and he could be in danger. They needed to find Gabriel and they needed to find him now.

Michael wasted little time in retracing his steps back through the bright tunnel and up to the surface. It wasn’t until Michael reached the section of the tunnel leading up to the surface that he remembered the odd stone set in place to guard the entrance to the tunnel. Doubt soaked through his veins as Michael hoped beyond hope that the barrier to the surface would open to anyone, demon or angel, from the inside.

Michael’s wings took him upward until he reached the underside of the stone. Both hands on the rock, he said a silent prayer and heaved. Even at the hands of an Archangel, the stone refused to budge. No amount of force Michael could bring to bear on the rock would move it even a fraction of an inch. Michael’s chest heaved, his face red from effort. Panic pushed through his defenses and wrapped its cold hands around his heart.
How could I have allowed this to happen? How could I have been such a fool?