Free Noah Primeval (Chronicles of the Nephilim) by Brian Godawa

proposition.
    “HALT!” The Captain of the Guard’s voice barely penetrated to the back of the train over the howl of the wind. They could hardly hear him. The convoy stopped abruptly. The bird-men positioned themselves at the ready.
    The Captain squinted his eyes in the dusty wind at the silhouette of a hooded man standing in their path about one hundred cubits in front of them. The faint moonlight shimmered through the dust and outlined the lone figure like a phantasm.
    The Lieutenant piped up, “Could it be an ambush?”
    “Do you see a single place for a war party to hide?” spit the Captain.
    The Lieutenant looked around. The desert land lay flat for leagues in all directions in this stretch. They would not reach any rocky areas until tomorrow. Even with poor visibility, there was nowhere for a war party to hide, unless they buried themselves in the sand, waiting to rise up. The Lieutenant considered that possibility.
    “Let us dispatch this annoying desert vagrant,” commanded the Captain . He led the five camel riders toward the figure.
    Noah strained to see what was going on, but the dust and the fat guard both obscured too much of the path ahead.
    “What fool would be out here during this contemptible weather?” squawked the guard.
    The Captain and his five officers approached the lone man within a few cubits. The stranger wore a loose hooded robe, his face wrapped in shadow.
    “ You there, drifter!” yelled the Captain. “Stand aside!”
    The man stood like a statue, even his robe seeming oblivious to the wind and the command.
    The Captain grew irritated. He would not brook insolence from a lone vagabond. “You stand in the path of the army of Anu! Stand aside!”
    Still the man did not move. He showed no sign of even hearing the order. He is either deaf or stupid , thought the Captain.
    The five camel riders circled him, their steeds snorting. The wind whipped up to a new frenzy, as though energized by the unfolding drama.
    The Captain gave him one last chance. “What god do you serve?”
    T he lone man still stared silently from the hooded shadow. The Captain stared back. “Kill him for his disrespect,” he finally growled.
    The Lieutenant smiled with glee. He had not had the opportunity to kill anyone in a while. He enjoyed the feeling of god-like power that came from extinguishing life. He trotted his camel over to the hooded stranger and raised his axe high to smite him down. He swung his weapon, anticipating the gruesome sound of his blade wading through flesh and bone, but the expected thud never came.
    The stranger dodged the blow with preternatural timing. He caught the Lieutenant’s arm and pulled him from his camel, somehow turning the ax back against its owner and burying it in the soldier’s head. So quickly did it happen, it took a moment for the others to realize what they had seen. This gave the stranger time to stand up and slough off his cloak. A paladin warrior in strange leather armor stood revealed. He was muscular, youthful, with sandy hair and a wide jaw line.
    The thought cut through the Captain’s mind, What a handsome scoundrel .
    The paladin finally answered the Captain’s question . “I am a servant of Elohim, whom you are about to meet.”
    The men drew their weapons, but could not hold them steady. Their camels reared up out of control, terrified by unseen forces.
    The paladin pulled the axe from the dead Lieutenant’s skull and flung it through the air. The Captain’s mouth opened to shout an order, but the ax embedded in his skull before a sound could emerge. The stunned, lifeless body dropped from his camel.
    The paladin drew double weapons, one in each hand, long huge daggers with a curved hook blade that might be used by a twenty-foot giant. The soldiers had never seen this kind of weapon before. These were in fact sickle swords. This sword had not yet been introduced to humanity. But this warrior was no mere human.
    The paladin cut down each of the remaining