Last of the Nephilim by Bryan Davis

Author:Bryan Davis [Davis, Bryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: AMG Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2010-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

As twilight draped the marsh, Abraham returned to his plan. With his ankles looped by a hangman’s noose, his wrists bound by the nettle-infested cords, and his body dangling upside down from a gallows with his shoulders and head resting in shallow water, escape seemed impossible. Yet, with darkness approaching, his best hope lay only minutes away. When the time came, he would have to work fast, so he had to get his tool and keep it ready.

He shifted his arms to his side and slid a finger behind his belt, digging into the little pouch he had fashioned years ago. His wounded palm ached, but it couldn’t be helped. Yielding to pain wasn’t an option.

Pushing farther, he fished for the bone. He touched it with his fingertip, but just as he hooked his finger around it and pulled it up to the outside of his tunic, a woman approached. He opened his hand and pressed the bone against his belt with his palm.

Tall, hefty, and dark-skinned, the woman stooped and tore a morsel of bread from a small loaf. “Hands washed,” she said as she pushed the morsel into Abraham’s mouth.

He nodded a “thank you” and chewed. The bread was still warm and carried the flavor of honey and highlands barley, a rare treat for the people of the marshes. He gave a more enthusiastic nod, trying to show his appreciation for the kindness.

She smiled, but it was a sad sort of smile. “Drink?” She displayed a mug in her thick hands. “Make sleep. No pain.”

Abraham swallowed the morsel. “I appreciate the thought, but I need to stay awake. Do you have clean water?”

“Turn head. Swamp water clean.”

Abraham blinked, trying to ward away the blurriness that the hours in this position had caused. “You are Greevelow’s Eve, aren’t you?”

“Mantika.” As she mopped his forehead with the hem of her dress, she lowered her voice. “Fear not. My Adam not allow harm to you.”

Abraham studied her serious eyes. Even those few words were many for these people, a tribe his own people called “altered,” not only because of their speech patterns and aggressive attacks when the dragons flew over, but also because of their ability to produce a child without a birthing garden. Obviously she was stretching her verbal abilities in an attempt to be helpful. “Come closer,” he whispered. “I don’t want Flint to hear our conversation.”

As she leaned toward him with another morsel in hand, he continued. “Flint will not harm me, at least for a while. He only wants to keep me here through the next day and night. I believe a deceiver is in my village. If I am not there to persuade her otherwise, she will utter a lie that will bring a great evil into our land. I believe it is one of my own people, and she doesn’t even realize what she is being tempted to do, yet I won’t know who she is until I investigate.”

Mantika glanced back at her village, a collection of low clay huts on the higher ground.

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