Abraham Allegiant (Chronicles of the Nephilim Book 4) (24 page)

The full moon showered the fields outside of Mamre with a blue light. The Amorite night watchmen were lax because of the brightness of the evening. It was not the kind of night that any enemies would try to sneak up on them. Unfortunately, that is exactly what was happening as four stealth shadows slipped through the field brush up to the watchmen without notice.

They made no noise, moved swiftly, and were upon their prey in mere moments. They were the four hierodule assassins from Nimrod.

Before the four night watchmen on the ground even knew what hit them, their throats were ripped out by the retractable claws and talons of the genetically enhanced killers. They saved their throwing blades for the two up in the trees, who plummeted silently to the ground.

Forests were like a playground for these four trained hunters. Their eyes were made to see in the darkest conditions. The falcon women could spot a mouse in the moonlight at a hundred yards, and though they could not fly, they could jump a full twenty feet and land on prey with talons gripping like vices.

The lioness women could crawl through any terrain in total silence, and climb trees with great ease, using the same claws that could rip through human flesh and even leather armor. Their small slender bodies belied the powerful explosive strength that was hidden within. They had the strength of several men and the fangs of a lioness of the steppe.

And they were coming for Abram.

It was late enough for the families to be asleep with only the men and soldiers still stoking the fires and telling stories of exploits and adventures.

The female killers split up in order to listen in on several groups of men around the fires. They were not planning to kill these because they were not here to draw the rest of the Amorite warriors down on their heads. They were listening to get any information about Abram’s whereabouts.

One of them finally overheard some men complaining about Abram’s leadership. These must have been his people. Then, one of them said to watch their mouths, the patriarch might be able to hear them. He looked over his shoulder up at a tree house within their hearing range, and the leader, Zula knew where their target was.

The four killers climbed the backside of the large oak that the soldier had glanced at. They gripped the bark easily in their claws and talons and made it up the fifty or so feet in seconds.

The lights were out. Abram and Sarai were sleeping.

Getting in was the easy part. Getting out would be more difficult. In exchange for the intelligence from Arba on Abram’s whereabouts, they were supposed to capture Sarai along with him and bring her back to Kiriath-Arba before embarking on their journey back to Mesopotamia. But the kidnappers had no intentions of fulfilling that agreement. They were going to kill the wife and place Abram unconscious in a carrying sack they brought with them.

Two prisoners were just too cumbersome and added too much danger to their undertaking. Two of the hybrid killers with their strength could carry Abram down the tree and out of the forest, but they would not have the stealth advantage they had coming in. Should they be discovered in their kidnapping, they would have a difficult time outrunning their pursuers. No, if they were discovered, they would have to kill him and cut off his head to bring back as a trophy of proof for Nimrod. They would have at least a two day jump on Arba should he try to go after them, and they would take the backwoods instead of the King’s Highway.

The tree home was built about fifty feet off the ground on the fanning outspread branches of an old growth oak tree.

The stealth kidnappers found the bedroom with Abram snoring away next to Sarai. They slipped in through the two windows.

The four shadows surrounded the bed.

Zula, the lioness, poured out some sorcery potion into a rag and placed it over Abram’s mouth. He never woke up before passing into a drugged unconsciousness.

Sarai stirred and Kulla drew her razor sharp talon across her throat, cutting through her esophagus. Sarai managed a pitiful yelp before Kulla covered her mouth shut. She held her until her struggling form quivered its last and died.

They placed Abram in the sack and moved to the door to leave.

But when Zula opened the door, a stranger holding two strange looking daggers in his hand confronted her. He punched her hard in the face and her nose exploded in blood. She crashed to the floor unconscious.

Moonlight came through the door and illuminated the dead form of Sarai in the bed. But she did not have blonde hair, because it was not Sarai, it was Devorah, Eliezer’s wife. They had mistaken the head servant Eliezer for Abram and murdered his wife instead of Sarai.

Abram had heard Eliezer’s snoring stop and Devorah’s cry of death. Abram was the nemesis at the door.

The assailants dropped the sack with Eliezer in it and crouched to fight. Their animal senses heightened and their fangs, claws, and talons came out.

Abram was facing three chimera killers with preternatural strength and animalistic skill in fighting.

But what they did not know was that Abram had been trained in the way of the Karabu by his ancestor Noah ben Lamech who learned it from his ancestor Methuselah ben Enoch. It was the ancient form of martial art practiced by archangels.

These cats and birds were in for a surprise.

He was a bit rusty for lack of practice, but he also had El Shaddai watching over him. He brandished his blades in sweeping gestures and moved into the room with a fluidity of dance that threw off the invaders.

It so confused his first opponent, Laliya, that her talons were only able to block one motion of Abram’s blades before he cut through her belly and spilled her intestines.

The other two surrounded him with claws and talons raised and ready.

Zakita, the lioness hissed.

Abram remembered a tactic that Noah had taught him for such a situation. It was a signature move of his guardian angel, Uriel. He would extend his blades and twirl like a whirlwind, slicing through a circle of enemies surrounding him.

Abram held out his blades and spun.

But Abram was not an archangel. And he was much older now.

He got dizzy and fell off balance into a table and chairs.

Zakita was instantly upon him.

Her claws slashed his chest and drew blood.

He kicked her like a mule with both feet. She flew back into the wall.

But then Kulla was on him before he could catch his breath.

She swung. He ducked.

Her razor talons got stuck in the splintered table. She tried to jerk them free.

It was the breath Abram needed.

He drove both blades up into her chin and through her skull.

She fell backward in death, carrying his daggers with her to the floor.

Now Abram stood without weapons before a very angry lioness Zakita. She hissed at him and bared her fangs.

He reached for anything near him.

He grabbed something and raised it.

It was a shred of drapery torn from the window. It dangled from his hand like a limp wet rag. Abram sighed.

Zakita lunged.

Abram dodged with a Karabu spin that made him dizzy again, but saved him from a terrible slashing.

But Zakita did not stop. She kept attacking.

So Abram engaged in a ballet of flowing moves to evade Zakita. He was a bit slow and unpracticed. She scraped his arm, and then his leg.

But her multiple misses on this old dancing geezer enraged her.

Which was her big mistake, because she lost her strategic sense and got sloppy.

In a flash, Abram flipped over her and used the drapery in his hand as a garrote around her neck. But he could not choke her. She would have her claws in him before that was going to happen.

So instead, he used his momentary advantage to drag her to the window and throw her out.

This was not a window with a porch.

She fell to the ground fifty feet below.

But she was a feline hybrid.

She turned in the air and prepared to land on all fours to cushion the blow.

But she would not make it to the ground, because there was a branch in the way about ten feet below with a broken appendage sticking up.

It skewered her like a pike through her midsection. She howled and woke up half the neighborhood, then died.

Back up in the bedroom, Abram was huffing out of breath and on his knees on the floor.

“I am too old for this anymore,” he said, and grabbed the daggers out of the bird woman’s skull.

But when he looked up, he saw Zula standing in the room with her claws at the throat of Sarai. Zula’s face was still flowing with blood from her broken nose. She had been forgotten during the fight and had come to, slipping out to find Sarai as hostage.

And now she had both hands in a death grip on Sarai.

She gurgled through her blood, “Life for life. If you submit to me, I will let her live. If not, she dies.”

Abram gripped his blades. His only chance was to throw one and hit the lioness in the eye.

But she was too close to Sarai’s head. She was moving around, pulling Sarai in front of her as a human shield. And he was too old for such precision anymore. He was more likely to hit Sarai and lose her by his own hand.

On the other hand, he had seen what these creatures had done to Eliezer’s wife, thinking she was Sarai. So he knew she was going to die anyway.

He hesitated. There was no way out of this. Either way, Sarai was going to die, and with her, all his happiness and purpose.

He decided to do the one thing he had any sliver of a chance with. He was going to throw the dagger.

He prayed, “El Shaddai, help me.”

He flipped the blade and raised it with trembling bruised hands.

But he did not have to throw it, because suddenly Zula’s eyes turned upward, she released her grip on Sarai and fell to the floor unconscious.

It was an answer to prayer. But it was not a miraculous violation of nature. It was a providential timing of nature.

She had fainted from loss of blood.

Abram leapt to Sarai, moved her out of the way, and used his daggers to nail Zula’s clawed hands to the floor.

The pain brought Zula back to consciousness.

“Who sent you?” said Abram with anger. “Was it Arba?”

Zula shook her head, and then whispered weakly, “Arba only gave us information.”

“Then who sent you?!” he yelled.

She refused to tell him.

He said, “It is your choice to die slowly or quickly.”

With labored breath, she whispered, “Nimrod.”

Abram’s eyes went wide with shock. So the mad king was never going to give up his obsession. He would hunt them down till his dying day.

He pulled one of the daggers from her hand and plunged it under Zula’s sternum, piercing her heart and sending her straight to Sheol.

The sack stirred. Eliezer was coming to.

Abram opened the sack and pulled a groggy Eliezer from it.

“They mistook Eliezer for me,” said Abram. “They wanted to bring me back alive to Nimrod.”

Sarai whispered ominously, “Now Arba knows who you are.”

It had to be true. There was no way that Arba would provide intelligence such as this without procuring something for himself. If he knew Nimrod was after Abram, why would he not betray Abram for his benefit? He had evidently wanted Sarai murdered because, according to his reprobate mind, if he could not have her, then no one could.

Abram noticed Sarai’s eyes drift to the door. He raised the dagger and turned to see another warrior at the door. This was a muscular paladin with strange armor showing underneath an open cloak.

He was not an Amorite of Mamre’s relative and he certainly was not one of Abram’s warriors.

So Abram threw the knife at him.

The stranger moved with lightning reflexes and caught it midair before it could hit him.

Abram had no strength left to fight. He knew this one would kill them. He moved in front of Sarai.

“Fear not,” said the stranger. “I am not here to harm you.”

“Who are you?” asked Abram.

“I am Uriel the archangel, and I am here for your protection.”

“Well, you are a little late,” said Abram. “It would have been nice if you had actually protected us.”

Uriel smiled. This was not the first time he had done this kind of thing. “You were doing fine, crabby jaw. Besides, you needed the practice for what is coming.”

“What is coming?” repeated Abram.

“Heaven knows,” Uriel only hinted.

“A sarcastic archangel at that,” said Abram.

“And quite attractive,” kicked in Sarai.

Uriel was a handsome young muscular built warrior. He had long blonde hair and a winsome smile.

He replied to Sarai, “And you, my lovely ward, have quite the reputation yourself for being the desire of many men.”