Alan Price and the Colossus of Rhodes (The Nephilim Chronicles) (21 page)

BOOK: Alan Price and the Colossus of Rhodes (The Nephilim Chronicles)
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Color rose to Danielle’s cheeks but before she
could stumble over an awkward response, Sera’s voice broke their conversation.
“How did you do that? What are you?”

Alan broke eye contact with Danielle
gently removing her hand from his shoulder. He was far from being fully
recovered but there was no denying the physical and emotional repair the brief
moments Danielle’s touch provided. He looked across the courtyard to Sera who
now stood covered in dirt and dust from head to toe. Bruises and scraps of her
own showed on her fair skin. “I told you before. I am your friend. But you’d
have none of that. It’s clear the only way I’m going to get your help is by
beating you worse than you beat me. If that’s the way you want it, then that’s
the way it will be.”

Alan started to run. He was done waiting for the
attacks to come to him. It was time to turn the tables on the leader of the
Death Angels. Alan called on his speed to send him forward. Mimicking Sera’s own
move he ordered the wings trailing behind him to action. Nearly stumbling as he
fine-tuned the flapping of his glowing wings, Alan synchronized the motion to
his sprinting legs.

Scenery blurred in every direction
as his feet lifted from the ground and his wings carried him forward even
faster than he could run. Sera’s facial expression was priceless. Eyes stunned
at the sight of the charging Nephilim, she had no time to react.

At the last moment, just before collision, Alan
angled his attack so they would crash directly into the exterior museum wall. With
any luck, his chosen trajectory would land them in the padlocked room holding
the celestial weapons. Alan mustered every ounce of strength that still coursed
within his body. At skull-cracking speed, Alan struck the Death Angel.

Despite the crouched stance she
chose in preparation to absorbed the impact, Alan lifted Sera off her feet.
Both arms wrapped around her torso he ignored her strong flailing arms and violently
beating wings. With strength he was only beginning to understand, he drove her,
spine first, into the stone museum wall.

Ancient masonry crumbled as Alan used Sera’s body
as a battering ram. The two combatants created their very own entrance through
the museum leaving clouds of dust and debris in their wake. Alan forced his
wings to beat onward, only content to bring his limp package to a rest once
they had broken through a particularly dense stonewall. The air was musty and
the stench of mildew was enough indication for Alan to know they arrived.

With one final forceful stroke of
his wings, Alan drove Sera to the stone floor. The impact was so great the very
earth itself cracked and spider webbed out in every direction under the
pressure of the blow.

Alan knew he had only seconds for his plan to
work. Sera was stunned but not unconscious. Her warrior spirit would have her
on her feet soon. Alan pushed himself up, off his opponent and frantically
searched his surroundings. He could hear the noise of shouts behind him. Whoops
and hollers drifted through his newly created museum entrance as spectators
hurried to see the outcome of Alan’s unexpected strike.

The room was dark. The only light
coming from the hole Alan made with Sera’s body. Ignoring the smell, Alan’s
eyes took in the scene. Shelves were erected throughout the still room. Each
ledge was hidden with a dust covered sheet. In a state of panic, Alan ran to
each shelf and began ripping off covers. Sera was stirring.

Each time Alan gripped a rough, worn sheet and tore
it off, his heart skipped a beat. Despite the lack of light, weapons of expert artisanship,
clearly supernatural in origin, gleamed and shone like far away stars. Blades
caught what little illumination was available and intensified the effect a
hundredfold.
You can gawk at these things all you want at another time,
Alan
silently yelled at himself.
Pick one and move!

His hand was drawn to a particular sword
that rested on the wooden shelf floor. The weapon was sleek, all but yearning
in its own unique voice to be held and used.

When Alan gripped the firm hilt in his hand, it
felt expected. It felt as though the sword was meant for him. Lifting the weapon,
Alan saw his arm trembling. The sword felt right, it felt good in his hands.
There was no other way to explain the feeling.

Alan never held a weapon before let
alone an ancient angelic blade created in the fires of Heaven. Despite this, he
felt a sense of familiarity. The closest thing Alan could match this feeling to
was a vague sense of déjà vu.

Slowly he walked over to the leader of the Death
Angels who was once again struggling to her feet. Alan had no intention of
killing her; however, he knew he had to come across harsh and menacing for her
to take him seriously. He had to convince her and everyone else that piled into
the museum cellar that he meant business.

Alan stood over Sera and brought
the edge of the blade to rest against her fair-skinned throat. “Fight with us.
Somewhere deep down you do care. Somewhere inside all the walls you’ve built over
the centuries, you are as lonely as I was. You want to get back in this fight.
You know you were meant for something more than spending the rest of your years
tucked away in this museum. Keep the oath you swore to guard these weapons but
do so by using them to defeat our enemy.”

Sera looked up at him from her prone position on
the cellar floor. Blood trickled down from her left temple. Her red hair was a
mess of tangles that fell down her face and cascaded at random angles against
her dark wings. Alan had to remind himself to look fierce and not be taken with
her beauty.

The silence lengthened as Sera thought
through Alan’s words. Not daring to remove his gaze from her, he couldn’t help
but notice the gathered crowed through the corners of his vision. Everyone,
including Danielle, Jericho, Samson, Alexander and Deborah, piled into the
small room. “I’d fight alongside any man, Angel or Nephilim that can strike as
hard as you,” Samson said still nursing a swollen jaw.

“I’ve never seen anyone from this earth or any
other that can take that amount of punishment and ask for more,” Deborah said.

“I just want to get out of this
museum. It’s lonely in here,” Jericho added with a grin.

All eyes turned to Sera. A fire still burned in
her eyes but Alan was glad to see that rage was not the only thing present.
Respect was also growing for him somewhere deep within the female warrior. One
of her eyebrows raised and her eyes narrowed as she spoke. “Well, it’s not
often I find myself bested by a Nephilim. I will want a rematch and a closer
look at those wings of yours. But that can wait until after we silence the
uprising. The Death Angels are with you.”

 

Chapter 59

 

“I told you armor and weapons are pointless
against them.”

“Yes, I know only celestial weapons
can wound or kill a member of the Fallen race. I was just thinking that there
are some of their demonic Nephilim who do not have the ability of healing or
impenetrable skin.”

Michael took a moment to remember Jacob. Visions
of the strong Nephilim and his stone exterior brought a twinge of pain to
Michael’s heart.
How could she have done that? How could Ardat not only have
broken the treaty but do so by killing one of his own?
“The battle will be
chaos, Caleb. You remember what it was like the first time we fought them. I
don’t want our Angels or Nephilim attacking beings they cannot defeat with a
false sense of hope in weapons that will do no good.”

“Maybe hope is exactly what we need
right now, Michael.”

Michael looked deep into Caleb’s solemn eyes.
“Uniforms for everyone. It’s on you to make sure they have a clear
understanding on our weapons. Ensure they know priority 1 is to obtain and use
the enemy’s own weapons on them. Then get our men ready. I want to address them
before this all starts.”

Caleb nodded with quick smile and
headed out of Michaels makeshift headquarters. Since their arrival at the base
of the cave Ardat was using to stage her coup, Michael wasted no time in
setting up a command center. Their Nephilim had only just arrived with Caleb’s
gear in tow. He stood now in his small tent starring at the gold and silver plated
armor equipped with a long dark blue cape reserved for Angels of rank. It had
been a very long time since Michael had prepared for battle. He hoped that he
would never have to don a suit like this again.

Although the armor made of human metals would not
dissuade a celestial blade, Caleb was correct to think it would give the men
hope. An army in gold and silver armor with flowing blue capes would give them heart;
it could even make the enemy think twice before attacking.

Michael’s fingers slowly traced the
solid grooves and firm rivets of the armor. Lost deep in thought on what was to
transpire in the hours to come, he almost missed the hint of sulfur in the air.

Michael’s stance straitened. Every muscle was coiled
and ready to spring. If the
enemy thought they would catch him
unaware, they did not know the Archangel well. “Peace, Michael,” Ardat’s voice
rang out soft and clear behind him. “I did not come to stab my lover in the
back.”

Michael slowly turned, checking his
emotions for her was the hardest thing he would ever do. This wasn’t just about
him anymore; thousands of lives today and billions of lives tomorrow hung in
the balance if they lost now. Completing his turn, he saw her standing behind
him. The woman he spent a near eternity loving, the woman who sided with the Usurper
and begged him to join her. She wasn’t alone.

A goblin of a creature hunkered beside her barring
large fangs that made up more than half of its squashed face. “Amenhotep,”
Ardat spoke to the creature. “I’m safe here. He won’t hurt me. Go back to the
cave. Come for me in five minutes.”

The creature eyed Michael looking
as if it had just tasted something rotten before vanishing in a light plume of
sulfuric smoke.

They were alone. Michael could hear talking and passing
footsteps outside his tent but no one else was aware of Ardat’s visit beside
himself. He could have her arrested now he knew. Love and curiosity won over as
he found himself starring into Ardat’s gorgeous eyes. “Why have you come,
Ardat?”

Ardat’s gaze shifted to the floor.
Before she spoke, she took a step forward. “No,” Michael warned with an
outstretched hand. “That’s far enough. Explain yourself.”

Ardat’s eyes shimmered in tiny pools of pain and
sorrow as she physically recoiled from his words. “Has it been so long, lover,
that a hug cannot pass between us?”

Every fiber in Michael’s being
pushed him to embrace the only woman he ever loved, the only woman he feared he
would ever love again. Duty and responsibility held him back. “You left me. You
left me.” Michael repeated himself slowly more to remind himself than to the
woman in front of him. “You made the choice a long time ago that forbade us to
ever embrace again. When you sided with him, you sacrificed our love.”

Ardat took a long breath that quivered in her
chest. “You wouldn’t come. Why wouldn’t you come with me, Michael? I begged
you. I very literally fell on my knees and begged you to come with me.”

Michael paused a brief second as
memories of the paste invaded his thoughts. The conversation that separated the
two Angels forever was a close memory that would always be easy for him to recall.
It was a moment he would never forget. “Ardat, I couldn’t leave. You shouldn’t
have left. The vows we took to uphold truth and righteousness, did they mean
nothing to you?”

The sorrow in Ardat’s voice was slowly turning to
menace as she too remembered their fateful past. “We were born into service
without a choice. The Usurper saw this and gave me a choice—“

“A choice? Is that how you justify
killing hundreds of thousands of our kind? Is that how you sleep at night? You
rationalize your murderous actions with a false pretense of slavery, Ardat. We
were never slaves. We were special. You—you were special to me.”

“And we can still be,” Ardat said risking
Michael’s temper and taking another step forward. “Don’t you see? I’m doing
this for us. With Heaven’s army destroyed, I will be in power and you with me.
I have no love for my kind. Come with me. You and I will make our own home on earth.
With no Angels or demons to pull us either way, we can finally be happy
together.”

Michael was at a loss for words.
The same woman he gave his heart to centuries before stood in front him yet she
was not there at all. “You would risk all of these lives for us?”

“Michael, I would risk so much more to be with you
again. Please, if you will not join me, stay out of this fight. When it is over,
I’ll say I took you as prisoner. You can still have your reputation and me with
it.”

Michael shook his head slowly. The
pain he felt every day at losing her doubled in the pit of his stomach.
Heartbreak tore through him clutching his heart until he thought is would burst
under the pressure. “I don’t know if I can ever stop loving you, Ardat.
Somewhere deep within you I still believe the woman I love exists. Maybe I’m a
fool for this.” Michael licked his dry lips. Ardat leaned forward in
anticipation of his next words. “I will not join you. I cannot kill you, God
help me, but I will not join you. We will be victorious today. I’ll order you
captured alive and maybe, maybe you can find forgiveness in the eyes of the
Creator.”

“The Creator?” All signs of sadness and love from
Ardat disappeared in an instant. “The Creator? Where is your Creator now? As
you stand on the brink of extinction, where is He to be found? No, your Creator
has abandoned you. When I stand over the field of battle as a victor, I will do
the same for you, my love. You will be taken alive and I have faith that one
day you will see things my way.”

Michael’s eyes refused to leave
Ardat. It was his sense of smell that once again reminded him of another’s
presence. The short goblin peeked around Ardat’s long black robe with a wicked
stare. “We attack in an hour, my love. Rethink my offer to either join us or remain
absent from the confrontation. Our numbers and superior weapons will make this
a short, bloody conflict.”

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