Free Angels of War (Angels of War Trilogy Book 1) by Andre Roberts Page B

miles away told him the battle should not last long.  
    Colonel Bryer checked his radar again, and adjusted his screen. A pale figure in the distance defied gravity followed by several thousands black objects. He blinked his eyes and used his gloved hand to clean the cockpit window. By the thousands the things flew up from the huge cathedral like a gnat infestation.  
    “Get ready, all squadrons get ready, bogies at twelve o’clock, commence firing on my command,” he said. His eyes widened as the jets took on their formations.  
    A strong awareness filled him. The world outside the cockpit grew brighter. He picked out the smallest details around him, from the pilots locked in their cockpits, to the horrid invaders, and the shattered buildings they approached.  
    The pale monster grew form along with the others as he neared the horrible riders. Cecil realized he faced a large skeleton armed with a sword and seated upon a pale warhorse larger than a Clydesdale. The black creatures behind the skeleton rode horses and drew black swords from scabbards at their sides. The bone built monstrosity sped towards the jets and circled his blade overhead.  
    Colonel Bryer swallowed stale air. “Weapons free. Weapons free. All squadrons attack.”  
    Wrath’s hellish followers spread out in formation. The air battle erupted.  
    The colonel squeezed the trigger on his flight stick. His Vulcan 20mm cannon went to work. He pressed another button on the stick and two AIM-120D rockets shot toward the pale rider. He hit a few horsemen with his 20mm cannon. The demons fell to the earth below. He wanted to fight through the horrors and destroy the tower they came from.  
    Cecil understood somehow, if he destroyed the cathedral, they would win the battle and go home. He sent his Raptor back around for another attack after his rockets failed to take down the leader. Both his AIM-120D rockets went through the massive bone armored monster and slammed into the buildings below. This frightened and angered him as he raced towards the monsters downing his aircraft like tiny sparrows.
    Colonel Bryer fired two more rockets. One struck a black rider in the head. The explosion surprised him. The headless rider tumbled towards the earth, his horse kicked and screamed behind him. The two crashed into a car far below.  
    “Go for their heads,” he said into his helmet communicator.  
    Colonel Bryer’s pilots obeyed his orders. Rockets went clean through a few enemy heads. Bafflement swept him. Some pilots found their mark, and the horses and headless riders fell to the earth. He fired more rockets, and dropped two more. All the while he mouthed a prayer.  
    Colonel Bryer wanted the leader. His fist tightened on the control stick. He jerked left and right and made the F-22 jink. Armored horse mounted horrors jabbed spears and swung wicked swords at his jet, missing the cockpit. The pulled trigger buzzed against his forefinger. His 20mm cannon burped flames and high-powered shells, enemy heads exploded in red sprays.  
    Wrath suffered no one. He pulled the reins on his pale beast. The Hell steed snorted compliance. Blood trickled from its wide nostrils. The master sent his steed’s muscular frame towards the jet with the name Col. Cecil Bryer stenciled on the side in black letters.  
    Rockets and cannon tracer rounds ripped the air around Wrath. Some burst against his body. Undaunted, he hefted his sword. Bryer’s helmeted head turned up in Wrath’s direction. Wrath drove down his rusted blade.  
    The blood-splattered sword crashed into the cockpit. Cecil’s head split open like a pomegranate. The fighter jet exploded, engulfing them both in flames and metal. Only Wrath escaped the destruction.  
    The other jets began to scatter as Wrath’s horsemen tore into the fighters. More explosions split the air as jets tumbled to the ground below. Parachutes fluffed out amongst the devastated skyline as pilots bailed out from shattered jets. The