A wolf howls a warning to its pack as a door rips into existence near a stream. Zachariel steps through, backlighted from the realm beyond. He listens to the water gurgling along, rushing through rocks and snaking around sticks. When his eyes snap open they are the eyes of a warrior preparing to greet his brothers, be they friend or enemy. A new sword shimmers into his hand and he is thankful to feel the weight of it.
Zach’s feet touch the soft cool grass and the gate closes leaving him in the darkness of the deathly quiet forest. The unnatural quiet is soon explained as the ravenous hunters step forth from the shadows, drawn by the perfume of rich angelic blood. Vampires, but not. Zach stares at what can only be described as demons. Vampire mixed with who knows what manner of creatures. Nine are visible, but he senses more, circling. Hairless, white skin that glows with a bioluminescent quality. They look almost human save the fact that they have two huge black eyes and no nose or mouth. Long apelike arms armed with razor sharp claws dragging across the ground as they stalk forward.
“Come you heathens, so I can send you back to Hell!” Zachariel’s eyes are filled with righteousness as he steps slowly to the center of the clearing. Moving in unison the pack circle him, closing in on the kill. His hand drops to a sheath on the side of his thigh retrieving a circular throwing blade. A fast twist and release sends the blade singing out into the night, arcing into the sky. Swiftly, he leaps for two of the creatures behind him, severing their heads with a single swipe of his sword and listening for the sound of the creatures scream as his blade returns to his hand covered in their gore.
“Run, Zachariel!” Apollyon calls out weakly to his mind. Two lay dead and one writhing on the ground. Another of the creatures rolls back its head at the neck revealing a cavernous hole. The gaping hole opens, and it vomits out smaller versions of itself. Immediately the monstrosities begin to manifest into replicant’s of the original, save one difference. Long wolfish mouths armed with razor sharp teeth.
Slowly turning, Zach faces an army thirsty for his blood.
His wings explode and he leaps into the night air, seeking the image Apollyon sends him. The Natural Bridge! The creatures follow from the ground, leaping with amazing speed they tear through brush, dense trees and across rivers with ease. The darkness doesn’t slow them, nor the speed at which he flies.
“To me, Zachariel! It is your only chance,” Apollyon yells to him from the other side of the park. He follows the call up the side of a small mountain and flies down the densely wooded valley. When he spots the large lichen covered stones that form the bridge, he swoops down towards a thirty-foot bridge with a perfectly formed hole beneath it. Centuries of runoff had flowed down the mountain from the spring rains and acted as a drill creating the magnificent feature.
Zach surges ahead of the creatures, aiming for the center of the natural archway and passes through it, before dropping to the ground. He tucks his wings away and tracks quickly through the heavy woodlands before he finds the entrance to the cave Apollyon presented to his mind. It is more of a gaping hole in the ground, dropping eighty-five feet to hard earth and stones. This pitfall has claimed many an animal since its formation millions of years ago. He can feel the heat as he drops down avoiding the sharp layers of shale and rock that protrude from the sides of the wall.
Landing with a soft whoosh his eyes adjust quickly to the darkness and he finds he is inside a massive cavern with four entrances of varying sizes, leading to other tunnels. “Second to the right, hurry, Zach,” Apollyon gasps out.
Behind him, he can hear the screaming howl of one of the creatures signaling it has picked up his trail. He tucks his wings tightly to his back and runs swiftly into the small tunnel. The heat grows more intense and his body grows salty with perspiration. “Apollyon?” He calls struggling to fit inside the narrow tunnel. Pushing through he realizes it is blocked by more rocks. Layers of stones have created a wall.
“Zachariel, in here. Quickly!” Apollyon calls to him from the other side of the rocky wall, “Shift, Zach!” Behind him, he hears the grunting, and thrashing of rocks as the creatures follow him inside the cave. Unable to move the rocks his large form shifts to stardust and passes through a small hole at the base of the wall.
Apollyon lies gasping on the bloodstained floor. His coffee-colored wings are torn, and one appears to be separated from the shoulder. “Zach, we don’t have much time. Those stones will only slow them down…” he groans and Zach rushes to his side.
“Yofiel betrayed us, Zach.”
Apollyon sits up assisted by Zach and yells in pain when he touches his ripped wing.
“Let me help you.” He whispers a prayer and sets his hands on the large angel’s broad shoulders. A warm glow of light flows from his hands to Apollyon, passing through his torn and broken body. “We have to get to the gate, Apollyon, I can only treat the smaller wounds here.” Depleted from his own healing he can only stop the major bleeding, he can’t heal the multiple broken bones.
A howl echoes down the cave walls, the pack has his scent now. The call of angelic blood is too much for them to resist and they begin grunting, digging and clawing at the barrier. Zach ignores it and bows his head in sorry, “Balthial, Gadriel, and Orifiel too.”
“No!” Apollyon stiffens and his brown eyes fill with fury. Zach nods his head and continues healing
