Free Enoch Primordial (Chronicles of the Nephilim) by Brian Godawa

the distance to an arrow’s flight, but they would use no arrows on their quarry. Nephilim preferred close quarter combat. They preferred to tear the limbs off their prey rather than pierce them dead from a distance. Close combat satisfied their bloodlust better. They were monsters, fast monsters. They did not need animals for transportation. for they ran faster without them.
    Methuselah counted ten of them. Talk about overkill , he thought. One alone could kill us all .
    The tribe huddled close to each other. The men stepped out with their few useless weapons in a pathetic attempt at a vain last stand. They felt the call of moral obligation to act courageously. They did not have a chance. They were all going to die.
    Certain death did not matter to Methuselah and Edna. They were actually hoping that they would be able to take down one together as a badge of honor before they perished. They had done well against the Rephaim. Their victim was probably suffering a humiliating permanent limp somewhere out in the hinterlands.
    Yet, even at that moment, Methuselah felt compelled to make light of circumstances to Edna. He stared out at the approaching predators, at the trail of dust rising in the air, and said under his breath, “Well, here we are again, facing certain death.”
    She glared at him expectantly.
    Methuselah surprised her, “This is where you admit again that you have always loved me.” He said the word always with relish. It was quite revealing when she had first said it, and now she felt like a silly little fool.
    She punched his arm hard.
    “Ow!” he yelped. He was the stronger vessel, but he had also taught her how to maximize her impact. He sighed and smiled softly at her. “It is true, Edna. I do love you. And if we do get out of this alive, I will declare my intentions to the world.”
    Edna glanced back at the advancing Nephilim. She could now see their skin and faces. Their entire bodies were covered in occultic tattoos, displaying their new allegiance to the gods. She had not realized Nephilim could be any scarier than they already were.
    “ That is not fair,” she said. “You know we are really dead this time. Even so, I am praying for a miracle.”
    She glanced around, looking for that miracle. She noticed two river people in cloaks come out of their tents. So there were a couple unlucky tribesmen here after all.
    T he two cloaked men stood in front of Enoch and his people. The lead one spoke clearly for all to hear, “Fear not! Trust in the Lord and he will deliver you!”
    Enoch recognized that voice.
    The two men turned toward the Nephilim. The giants were within fifty cubits of the clan and about to pounce. In unison, mysterious pair threw off their cloaks.
    Gabriel and Uriel , the archangels, stood guard before the clan. They brandished the strange weapons Enoch had seen before. Uriel had two of the long blades in his hands called swords . The archangels raised their weapons and yelled, “A sword for the Lord and for Enoch!” Then they bolted into the fray of approaching giants.
     
    The archangels cut through the Nephilim like barley. Trained and angry giants were cut down by these two mighty warriors in less time than it took for Enoch to urinate in his pants from the terror mere cubits away.
    T he stronger of the two, Gabriel, fought three at a time like a hungry lion. But Uriel made up for his diminished size with cunning strategy and unorthodox moves. They worked well in tandem.
    Gabriel disarmed one and yelled out to Uriel, who spun around and cut him down. They swapped positions and opponents in a flash, confusing the Nephilim. But it took effort. The archangels had to work hard for their results.
    Three Nephilim managed to strike Gabriel’s sword at once . It flew out of his hand. Uriel threw Gabriel one of his two swords until Gabriel could pick up his own and get back on track.
    The last four Nephilim surrounded Uriel. Gabriel fought with the leader of the pack. The four