It was my second year of my being stranded on the island. My ability to read the stars told me it was late March of the year 1770. I had become resigned to my fate but, I confess to you now, after a lifetime of prayer and unwavering devotion, my faith in the power of our Heavenly Father was fading.
The Nephilim were losing, I knew it, and I’m certain they knew it. I had watched the battles unfold from my perch high upon the cliffs over the interior of the island where I made my home in a small cave behind a waterfall. The evil ones, the serpent-like Malvados, were too many in number and had command of the treetops, like the monkeys their spawn had used as hosts for their birthing. Their eggs appeared strangely one night, littering the jungle floor. One of the vile creatures within leapt to attach itself to my face. Only my good eyesight and quickness with my father’s machete saved me.
The curious monkeys, though, were easily taken. I watched as the Malvados burst from their chests and took easily to the trees, as the monkeys had, to grow and begin their killing spree, decimating the animals. These were demons from Hell with spiked tails, double rows of fanged jaws, and claws that ripped the flesh of any earthly creature. This lonely island was, I realized, a Hell’s Gate; a place where Lucifer’s spawn could pour forth to destroy God’s dominion. I hid in my cave and prayed throughout the day and night, hoping God would hear my call.
When the three warriors arrived from the heavens to battle the Malvados, I recalled the scripture of Genesis; “There were giants in the earth in those days. These were the heroes of old, warriors of renown.”
The Holy words referred to them as the Nephilim, and so I named the three Avenging Angels the Lord had sent to kill these demons and destroy the Gate. The Nephilim were truly Godlike in their abilities. They were strong, quick, and had powers beyond that of the most advanced army. Fire erupted from their fists and strange beams cast from shoulder weapons rained destruction. They disappeared and reappeared in a spectral manner.
I slept well, believing that the Avenging Angels had come and victory against evil was assured.
But that was not to be. Hope of salvation slipped away as the Malvados overwhelmed the three Nephilim. The hated serpents swarmed through the limbs of the pine trees and climbed the palms as if born to it. In battle after battle, the fire and lightning the Nephilim commanded was silenced and their spectral powers deserted them. They fought on bravely, but it seemed I was the only one destined to witness their sacrifice on our behalf.
I had been stranded on the island after the ship, Hesperia, had wrecked upon its rocky shoals. I warned the captain, but did he listen? To him, I was just Jorge Rodriguez de Aviles, a wealthy merchant returning from Spain to La Florida to oversee his family’s remaining interests in San Augustin.
Though a Spaniard by right, I had only spent the last five years in the country of my heritage. San Augustin was the only home I had ever known. My family could trace themselves back to the founding of the city by Pedro Menendez de Aviles and Father Francisco Lopez de Mendoza Grajales in 1565. Admiral Menendez had been sent by King Philip the Second to establish a fortress against the French invaders, and Father Lopez to administer to the spiritual needs of the colonists and the local natives, known as the Timucua. Sadly, little of their great tribal nation survives, due to European greed that pillaged their land, and the wars of colonial power we brought to their shores. Many more died of diseases common to us but fatal to them. The few that remained left their ancestral homes for Cuba when the English took possession.
Yes, the hated English, no friend to Spaniard or Timucuan, now possessed La Florida. I had, as a youth, fought against Oglethorpe himself when his Calvinist bastards invaded our land. I was bloodied in the Battle of Mose, a victory for the Spanish Crown which was celebrated throughout Cadiz and Madrid! But, in the end, it mattered not. What the English had failed to take by force, they had taken by treaty. My beloved land was theirs and I was left to sell off what possessions we still had in San Augustin.
The captain, of course, knew none of this. Nor did he know I had studied navigation and the ocean’s maps with the idea I might do honor to the Crown with my service. He dismissed my concerns, convinced that his vast knowledge of the sea was enough to navigate any ocean. He was wrong and his arrogance cost him his life and those of his crew.
I survived with only a spyglass and my father’s treasured machete. For two years, I had prayed daily, observing my reverence for the Almighty, certain of deliverance from these shores. But, it seemed, my only reward for devotion was to die in a war not of my choosing.
But it was during one such battle between several Malvados and the Nephilim I had named Adelantado when God responded to my prayers.
It was early morning. I watched through my spyglass as Adelantado had taken the initiative, attempting to entice some of the creatures into a small crevasse between the rocks. Hoping, I believe, to bring them down from the trees, restrict their movements, and kill them one by one.
Of the three Nephilim sent from the heavens, Adelantado seemed the more experienced in terms of tactics. Gigante, the name I gave to the largest of the three, was pure brute strength. Assessino was clever and quick. Where the other two were at this moment, I had no idea. They rarely fought together and seemed to compete against each other for kills and trophy heads. I found Adelantado to be the most interesting as he seemed to command respect from his brethren.
Adelantado had already killed one of the creatures, its poisonous blood still steaming on the jungle floor, and used himself as bait for three other Malvados. They pursued him up the rocky hillside to the crevasse. As they crowded in, their deadly spiked tails became useless without space, and their advantage in speed was nullified. Adelantado mounted the rocks above them and waited. He had forced them into single combat, neutralizing their advantage of numbers. His wrist blades were extended, he held his spear in the other hand. The mask he wore disguised any expression of fear or satisfaction he might have.
As the first of the devils climbed toward Adelantado, he flicked his hand and the spear extended to its full length. The Malvado reached for him and Adelantado swiped his blades across the creature’s face while driving the spear up into its chest. The force of the impact lifted the Malvado from the ground. But what I witnessed next was both amazing and horrible.
As Adelantado attempted to dislodge his spear, this beast grabbed the Nephilim’s arm with both claws and wouldn’t let him pull back. Adelantado was off balance, he was forced to kick the Malvado to free his spear but its blood spurted onto his thigh. His exposed flesh began to burn and dissolve. He roared in pain!
The other two Malvados had now scrambled free of the crevasse. Severely wounded, Adelantado had no choice but to retreat to the top of the mountain where there was no place to hide, nowhere else to run. Only the cliff over the beach and the rocks below.
Suddenly my attention was taken by a sight on the other side of the crest; white and blurry against the blue sky. I adjusted the focus of my spyglass. The sails of a large ship! It had three main masts and the flag of England. Had it flown the hated Lutheran Rose, I would have still rejoiced.
I quickly consulted the leather map I had made of the island. They would sail north to allow the current to pull them back to shore and anchor in the cove underneath the cliffs.
My heart skipped a beat as I suddenly realized the cove was directly underneath the cliff where Adelantado was fighting to his death. The Malvados were certain to see the ship.
I rolled up the map, grabbed up my machete and spyglass and, with a look back at my home for the last two years… my prison… I ran through the waterfall toward the small path that led down the hill.
My English was adequate: one of my childhood friends who lived in the free black settlement of Mose had escaped from an English plantation and taught me the language of his former masters. I have no love for the English, and I was certain their regard for a Catholic of the Spanish Crown of Charles would be no more than mine was for their Protestant King George.
I scrambled down the last few rocks to the jungle floor. I made no attempt to be silent. Speed was the only protection I had now. I had to make it to the cove.
At any moment, I expected the stab of their claws in my back, to be lifted above and ripped apart, but I dare not look back lest that hesitation be my undoing.
“Be strong and courageous.” I whispered words from the Book of Joshua. “Do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go!”
The sun flared brightly in my eyes as I emerged from the brush directly onto the sand. The ship had dropped anchor, its sails furled. Two longboats were already beached and a third was coming ashore. And people! My Good Lord, there were people!
I ran as fast as my beaten body allowed, pushing hard on the sinking sand to propel myself forward, to freedom. There were several Englishmen, probably ten of them. The rest were women, twenty or more. Their skin, barely covered by rags, reflected of ebony and the chains that linked them by neck collars in groups of three told me who these Englishmen were; slave traders returning with their human bounty from Africa.
I have no heart for slavers, I have seen their work. In my beloved home of San Augustin, we had many escaped slaves from the English colonies. The Spanish Crown granted them freedom and gave them refuge. The town of Mose, the one the bastard Oglethorpe had taken, was their home. And those Africans had fought bravely alongside our Spanish troops to retake it and defend my ancestral home.
Still, I had no choice. I waved my arms, trying to find voice from my parched throat. “No! No! Stop,” I yelled. “Do not go into the jungle! Please, wait!”
“Charles, hold up!” the man standing in the longboat called to his compatriots as their muskets immediately turned in my direction. I ignored them as I continued stumbling forward until I dropped to the sand at their feet.
“Castaway,” one said as he opened a water flask and offered it to me. “How long have you been here?”
“Gracias,” I muttered as I took the flask, my eyes scanning the trees for the demons. Where were they, I wondered? “You must leave, now! There is danger, much danger!”
Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw movement in the shadows cast by the overhanging cliff. I looked up and could make out the form of Adelantado and the two Malvados, still in mortal combat.
“There!” I pointed upward. “There, you see?”
The men, the women, all looked upward, their eyes straining in the sunlight.
“What the hell…?” the man nearest to me uttered.
Adelantado was poised on the edge, there was nowhere for him to go. He slashed at the nearest attacker with his spear but the other plunged its jaws into the mighty Nephilim’s side.
The ground gave away underneath him and he fell, his body impacting outcroppings of rock and breaking through the trees along the precipice, finally hitting the ground with a mighty thud, his spear stabbing upright into the sand next to his head.
Then, silence. The Malvados had gone.
“What the hell was that?” the man on the longboat yelled out. The two men at the front of the group moved toward Adelantado. He lay partially on his side, his armor ripped open, his flesh shredded from his right leg up to his chest. Another gaping wound was just below his shoulder blade.
“Never seen anything like it,” the man bending over Adelantado said. “Some kind of animal or something.” He turned and yelled back. “It has to be worth something!” He motioned for the chained women to come forward, but they did not. The Africans searched the trees, speaking softly to each other, their bodies tense.
They know. I thought. They know we’re being hunted.
That’s when we heard the hissing. My blood froze with its meaning; the Malvados were here. “Too late,” I turned to the man who handed me the flask. “Now, you must fight.”
The man nearest Adelantado screamed as the Malvado’s tail spike plunged into his back and lifted him into the air. The creature grabbed him in its claws and ripped him apart.
The English fired their muskets, but without aim; fear and shock rendering their minds useless.
“There! Up there!” One of the English was desperately reloading his musket as he stared up the side of the cliff. The two Malvados who had pursued Adelantado were crawling down the cliff, their teeth reflecting in the sun as they fixed on their prey.
The trees shook and three more Malvados jumped from the jungle onto the sand, where they crouched, ready to pounce, their massive heads swaying from side to side.
They moved as one, spreading out to prevent any escape into the brush. One of the English pulled his sidearm and fired at the nearest one, hitting it in the creature’s shoulder. He quickly began his reload when the vile demon’s jaw snapped down on his face, the smaller jaw erupting from the back of the man’s head.
I had no idea if the Malvados could swim so I dropped my machete and spyglass and raced to the water, diving through the surf, pushing myself underwater, holding my breath and swimming as far as I could.
The sight that greeted me when my head emerged from the water was so horrifying that I hesitate to describe it to you.
Blood now covered the sand from the torn and shredded bodies of the English, a testament to the arrogance of their supposed superiority.
A few feet away, the man who offered me the flask treaded water. His eyes were wide, his face contorted as he watched the carnage. More sounds of musket fire from behind us caught my attention and we both turned to see two Malvados crawling up the side of the ship where only three crewmen opposed them. They could swim, after all. I looked away; the crew was doomed.
It was then that I saw the most amazing sight. The women in chains had formed a circle, facing outward toward the Malvados who surrounded them. Their voices chanting together, a rough, low sound, punctuated with heavy, rhythmic yells. Their chain collars rattled as they shook them and stomped the ground. As one, they opened their arms in the same manner I had seen of the Nephilim, then brought them down hard against their sides with a huge slap, repeating the motion. Each time, their voices rose, louder and louder, the stomping became more intense, making them look larger and more threatening, as if they were challenging the demons to attack.
The Malvados had quickly dispatched the Englishmen but with the women, they were cautious. It occurred to me that they had never seen mortals before today, much less this kind of behavior. Even the mighty lion, the king of his domain, would have chosen prudence. The evil ones were looking for an opening, some weak spot in the circle they could exploit.
The women countered their every movement, shifting the circle in unison. I must tell you, I have seen the Swiss Guard of the Vatican in formation, and it was nothing as precise as this.
Another loud grunt from them and they all stepped as one, moving toward the cliff. I assumed they were seeking partial protection from the rocky walls. But no! They were deliberately moving across the bodies of the English, picking up knives and swords to arm themselves.
The most striking of these women leaned down to one body, her eyes never leaving the demons around them. She searched the man’s belt and pulled something from it. The key to the collar lock! She freed herself then passed the key to the next woman, who followed suit then handed it to the next. None of these women ceased staring at their attackers, none of them lost their step, none of them paused in that steady chant.
Who were these women? Where had they come from? They reminded me of the brave Africans who defended Mose, but with more defiance than I had seen in the best of soldiers, black or white. I found myself wanting to survive just to learn their story.
The Malvados closed together, preparing for their assault. I had seen this before. Once they broke the circle and got behind the women, their tails would slice back and forth, their claws would reach out, and it would be over quickly.
“They’re done for, mate,” the English next to me said. “Let’s get back to shore while the bastards are busy.” He began swimming. I wanted to join him, but my eyes were fixed on the women.
The one who picked up the key shouted out commands and the others responded without hesitation. The circle began to reform, the front moving backwards to create a U shape, much like the horns of a bull. I was confused; this guaranteed the opportunity the creatures were seeking.
The Malvados charged forward, screeching as the demons from Hell that they were, and pushed into the center of the U, their tails flailing. Amazingly, the women didn’t scatter. The two sides of the U pulled back and around, encircling the Malvados. Their tails struck out, but the women ducked and rolled under the deadly weapons, slicing upwards, wounding the beasts while others provoked them from the front. Every time the Malvados reacted, the line reformed and repeated the process. It was death by a thousand cuts.
The blood of the Malvados sprayed several of the women. They screamed, falling to the ground as their flesh bubbled and melted away. Still, this did not deter the others as they pressed the battle. Two Malvados were dead, the other three fought wildly but the loss of blood was beginning to tell on them.
At that moment, the water erupted near the boats and the two Malvados who had attacked the ship raced across the sand to join the fray. The leader of these women saw them and yelled to the others. They tried to reform the line to meet the new threat, but the three demons in the center were still fighting. The newcomers dashed around the beached boats, to attack from the direction of the cliffs.
Four of the women turned to face them as the others tried to close the gap. One of the women died quickly as the tail of the lead Malvado sliced into her stomach. Another was knocked aside, into the rocky walls of the cliff, and fell motionless to the ground. Their leader yelled again and they tried to reform the line, but it was thin and faltering. A second attack would defeat all their efforts.
A mighty roar from behind the Malvados stopped them. Adelantado! He stood upright, arms upraised in challenge. Shredded flesh hung from his thigh and the gash across his chest was bleeding profusely. His mask had fallen away, and I could now see his face clearly.
It was, I’m sorry I cannot describe it any other way, hideous. His eyes were small for his body and there were fangs, four of them, aligned around his mouth. They stretched apart with his battle cry as he ran forward, colliding with the two Malvados. He grabbed the first by the throat and spun it around, using the creature’s body as a shield. The spiked tail of the other demon shot toward Adelantado’s exposed ribs. His blades flashed from his wrist and the spiked end fell to the ground. The demon’s blood sprayed the sand as Adelantado pushed it back.
But, alas, the one in his grip was not yet dead. Its jaws opened wide and those vicious inner teeth flashed out, catching the side of his head and breaking one of the fangs. The other creature ripped at the already gaping wound of Adelantado’s thigh.
The mighty Angel roared in pain as his luminescent green blood poured freely. He crushed the neck of the demon in his fist and fell to one knee. The remaining Malvado rose up, towering over Adelantado, to deliver the fatal blow.
The leader of the women ran toward them. She grabbed up the spiked tail lying on the ground, diving underneath the Malvado and stabbing upward. The spike dug deeply into the demon’s flesh and it screamed in pain as she rolled away to avoid its yellow hissing blood. The Malvado took one step toward her before its head jerked to the side and flopped against its shoulder. Adelantado, in a desperate effort, had sliced through the creature’s neck. It dropped to the ground, twitched, then lay still.
Adelantado ripped the head of the demon from its body then turned toward the jungle’s edge, pausing only to retrieve his mask. His hand never reached it as he fell to the ground, too wounded to move. Three women ran toward him, their swords raised to dispatch him. Their leader stepped forward and stopped them with a firm voice. Her subordinates paused and reluctantly lowered their weapons.
I suddenly laughed out loud, I yelled to the heavens. They had beaten the demons! These strange women, they had faced Lucifer’s monsters and prevailed. I slapped the water, shook my fist, and screamed with delight!
The leader gazed out toward me, and I immediately calmed myself, realizing that their reception to me might not be any less than their regard for the Malvados. I gave her a half-hearted wave, not expecting a response. She motioned for me to swim back, then held her hands toward me, palms open in my direction. I took that as her showing me she held no weapon. What choice did I have?
I crawled onto the beach and sat, breathing heavily, coughing with the salt in my throat. The Englishman was already ashore with two women standing guard over him. I had little pity for him. I would have him placed in those cursed iron collars.
The women now spread out, forming a rough perimeter, watching the trees and the brush. The brave fallen were laid out next to each other; proud warriors, even in death. The remains of the slavers were covered with sand and ignored.
The leader, their commander, looked down at me. She was more than just striking, her face was carved as the ancient statues of Rome, with strength and grandeur together. She had scars tattooed along the lower part of her forehead, just above her eyes, and on her bare shoulders from front to back. They were obviously recognitions of her status. Her skin had an unbroken blackness that seemed to absorb sunlight. The strength she exuded was almost overpowering.
I weakly clapped my hands together and smiled. “Bendiga a todos!” I spoke within my heavy breathing. “Thank you, thank you all! I am at your mercy!” I bowed my head slightly, keeping my eyes on hers, holding my clasped hands in front of me.
“She doesn’t understand you,” the Englishman said. The commander then spoke to him in her language. He responded in kind and she walked away.
“You speak their tongue?” I asked.
“Aye,” he responded. “I’ve had dealings with her people many times.”
I reflexively spit in his direction. “You are a bastard!”
“I’ve no slaves of my own,” he replied. “I merely translate.”
“God will judge your guilt,” I responded.
He shrugged. “No one is innocent, my friend. English, Portuguese, Spanish—I’ve worked for them all.” His point was true. Despite the Crown’s decree for my friends at Mose, the history of my own countrymen was not defensible.
“It doesn’t matter,” he continued. “We’re their slaves now. If I was her, I’d have our blood spilled here and our bodies washed out for the sharks.”
We watched as the women scavenged the longboats, collecting anything that could be used as weapons. The tow ropes were pulled free and the boat hooks stacked nearby. Crude spears were fashioned from English knives and the oaring poles.
The commander walked the area, inspecting their work, giving orders when needed. I saw her pause and pick something from the sand. It was Adelantado’s mask. She brushed it off and examined it, running her fingers along the edges. It had markings on the front that seemed to be of interest to her.
The Englishman’s name was Edward. He was, as he stated, a translator in many tongues. He was upon this ship because he was fluent in Fon, the language of these women. But who were they? Where had they come of such abilities, to stand in defiance of Lucifer’s demons and defeat them?
“The Kingdom of Dahomey,” Edward responded to my question. “They have fought the Portuguese, the Dutch, and my own people. These women are the King’s elite soldiers, his personal guard. Do not be fooled by their gender.”
There were legends of such Amazons in ancient writings, but that they did exist was not something I had believed possible.
“They call themselves Minos,” he continued. “That one is their leader.” He pointed to the commander. “She is called Nan.”
“How did they end up as…” I could not even say the word “slave” as it just seemed incredulous to believe of these women.
“A battle with the Portuguese. They stood their ground to allow their King to escape a trap.” He paused to glance around at the women. “It was a magnificent charge directly into the guns. Most of them died. The rest were taken and sold at the market.”
One of the women approached our guards and spoke to them. They prompted us to our feet with their swords.
“Apparently Nan wants to talk to us,” Edward explained.
“And I would like to talk to her,” I replied. “There is much she should know about this place.”
We were taken to the copse of trees on the other side of the beached longboats. Adelantado lay under the shade of the largest tree, unconscious but still alive. A woman tended to his wounds. Next to her was a small fire and a bowl catching sap from a slash in the tree trunk. The woman was spreading the sticky gel into the open wounds of Adelantado. I noticed Edward’s confusion and explained to him.
“The tree sap prevents infection,” I told him. “There is a common history of this, from many different cultures. Even the native Timucua of my home in La Florida used it as a medicine.”
“How did they know which tree to pick?” he asked.
“These are soldiers,” I replied. “I’m sure they have suffered enough carnage to know what sort of medicine works and what doesn’t, even when in a strange land.”
Two other women placed themselves on Adelantado’s arms, as if to hold him down. She pulled a burning branch from the fire and placed it on the wound, igniting the sap.
I nodded. “They’re cauterizing the wound to seal it,” I explained to Edward.
It flared and burned instantly. I had no doubt, had Adelantado been awake, he would have thrown the women aside with little effort.
“Why don’t they just kill the thing?” Edward asked.
“Because they are not like us,” I replied.
Nan approached us and spoke, looking directly at me.
“She knows you’ve been stranded here,” Edward translated. “She wants to know what those creatures are that attacked us and what this thing is.”
Nan continued staring at me. I could sense that she wasn’t just listening to the words I said, she was assessing me; to assign the proper weight to my words. All great leaders throughout history share this trait.
I explained as best I could and morning soon turned into afternoon. These women were from another land and culture. I had no idea which god they worshipped nor did I want to become a sacrificial missionary, so I refrained from interjecting my beliefs of war between Heaven and Hell. Besides, Edward was a Protestant, and I did not want to risk him altering my words to serve his false religion.
I told her about Gigante and Assessino and how they and Adelantado had fought many battles against the demons. I pulled the map from inside my shirt and showed her how the wooded terrain favored the evil ones, but that they avoided the areas that were sparse of trees. I pointed to my cave on the map and told her I rarely left it, but how it commanded a view of the entire valley.
Nan asked me where the Nephilim were. There was an open area near a stream where the Nephilim congregated at night on occasion, but only for a few hours at best. She took special interest in this, but I quickly told her that any attempt to attack the Nephilim would be folly.
She looked toward the ship anchored offshore. It was derelict. The Malvados had certainly killed the few crewmembers on board.
“The ship has supplies and weapons, but it’s useless as long as the Malvados are able to get to the water,” I said. Edward translated and she responded. Edward shook his head and replied to her.
“What?” I asked.
“She wants to know if the ship can take them home,” he answered. “I told her it was impossible. Even if we could get to it, we’d have to teach them to sail it.”
“They probably already know most of it, having watched the sailors work when topside,” I replied.
He dismissed my comment. “The captain is dead as is the navigator.”
“I can navigate. I know exactly where we are,” I said. “I can get them back home. Tell her that.”
He stared at me for a moment, then translated for her. She nodded and spoke directly to me.
“She said you will take them home. After they kill the Malvados.” Edward sighed. “You may have just doomed us all.”
A roar interrupted us. Adelantado had come out of his stupor and was fighting to his feet. Women quickly surrounded him with their makeshift spears. He was weak and unsteady, but there was no doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to fight. He roared again, spreading his arms in the manner that the Nephilim did when challenging the Malvados. Nan jumped to her feet and raced over, yelling at her women and waving them back.
Her soldiers obeyed, backing away and opening a path of escape toward the jungle. For the briefest of moments I feared he wouldn’t take advantage of his freedom; that he would choose to attack and kill as many of the Minos as he could.
He roared again, then disappeared into the brush.
Night soon fell. Edward and I sat between the longboats. We no longer had guards, where would we go? He was telling me of his childhood, being born in one of the coastal trading ports on the West Coast of Africa and how he had a true respect for the native Africans. This was to assuage his guilt more than to convince me. Though he did not hunt them and owned none, he was comfortable that others did. I could not help but remember the brave black men and women who fought at Mose; friends of my family who sacrificed themselves to protect my beloved San Augustin. He was correct; none of us were innocent. But at least I was aware.
“She’s coming,” Edward said as Nan approached and spoke.
“She wants to find the Nephilim,” Edward translated.
“No, tell her no!” I looked directly at her. “They will slaughter your soldiers if you attack them!”
He translated. For the first time I saw a slight smile at the edges of her lips as she responded. Edward reacted in surprise.
“She isn’t taking her soldiers, just you.” Edward laughed. “Well, there you go.”
Three hours later, I stood in the open area near the stream. Nan stood nearby, the large pouch we had dragged with us on the ground next to us. We had kept to the rocks and taken a longer path to avoid detection by the Malvados.
The moon illuminated everything in harsh contrast. We could see easily but were taken by a slight crackling sound from the shadows, almost like a dull clicking. The sounds got louder and moved around us; they were here.
Nan raised her arms high toward the sky, twisting her hands slowly as a low melodic chant grew from her throat. We were completely defenseless now and inviting our destruction at their discretion.
A rustle to our left and Gigante stepped from the darkness. His blades were extended, though one of them was broken. His armor had burn marks and a jagged gash across his mask.
Assessino soon appeared to our right. His condition was not much better than his compatriot. I noted the tendrils on the right side of his mask were missing, ripped away.
Every fiber of my body was telling me to run. Something about Nan’s confidence stayed me, the power she had over others had extended to me as well.
Adelantado emerged directly in front of her. His jaws, bared of his mask, flexed as he tilted his head. I repeated the Lord’s Prayer silently to myself.
Nan stopped chanting and gestured for me to bring the pouch forward. I placed it on the ground in front of her and stepped back. She reached inside and pulled out the Nephilim’s spear.
She had learned how to retract the blades on it, but Gigante and Assessino tensed as if for battle. Nan tossed it gently at Adelantado’s feet. She then produced the head of the Malvado killed by Adelantado on the beach. With an almost reverential posture, she placed it on the ground, next to the spear. Backing away, she indicated it was his.
Finally, from the pouch, the last item; Adelantado’s mask. Nan pointed at the marks on the front, then pointed to the tops of the trees, then to him and opened her hand as if asking a question. I realized that she was asking if these marks counted the Malvados he had killed.
She then lifted the mask to the side of her face and pointed to the scars above her eyes. Adelantado touched her forehead lightly and nodded.
She held the mask out with both hands, lowering her head in honor of his valor.
He took the mask, placed it on his face and attached it to his armor with two short tubes. His chest expanded as he inhaled deeply in satisfaction. Then he picked up the spear and tapped the side of it against his thigh wound where the cauterizing had already sealed the gash and healed it. Adelantado extended the spear toward Nan, offering it to her.
She accepted his gift and, with it, she pointed to the trees, indicating the Malvados. Then she extended the blade and made a stabbing motion into the ground. The three Nephilim nodded their heads and clicked in response; they had a common enemy and a common cause.
No words were needed, none could be exchanged between them, but I had the sense that they understood more about each other than most men do about their own brothers.
Nan reached back to me, and I handed her my map of the island. She unrolled it on the ground. Adelantado watched as her finger moved along the map, pointing out certain areas, jabbing at certain points. She looked up at him and waited.
Adelantado crouched down and traced his finger across the map. Nan nodded and pointed to another area, then smiled at him.
It was amazing. They were strategizing, creating an alliance in the stillness of the night, two completely different beings with nothing in common except their experience in war. I glanced up to the Heavens where the brightest stars struggled to make their presence known against the light of the moon. Was He watching this?
Nan and I returned to the beach just before sunrise. The Minos had fortified their encampment with a wall of sharpened sticks placed in parallel lines to the jungle’s edge, creating a maze that would force the Malvados to impale themselves or walk into a killing field. Women nearby were fashioning fire grenades made of wadded cloth and pine sap to be used as a last defense, to set it afire if the Malvados overran them.
The rest of the day was spent in preparation for the events of the coming evening. Her strategy was brilliant. And, as with most things of that nature, extremely fragile. Edward was forced to translate it to me and, I’m sure, he must have questioned if we had passed the point of sanity.
I already knew my part. Everything depended on timing and communication. I, dear friend, was in charge of that.
I gathered the materials necessary for my role. My spyglass would be crucial, of course. My machete would not be of much use, but I took it anyway. Finally, I collected several of the fire grenades into a pouch.
“I wish you luck,” Edward said to me. “Our survival depends on you.”
“Not me, them,” I nodded toward the Minos. “If for some reason you are the only one to live another day, remember this. Remember them when you return to your life.”
“I could never return to the life I had before,” he looked to the ground. “I know that now.”
“As you said, none of us are innocent of guilt.” I tied the pouch and slung it over my shoulder. “You are a Protestant?”
He nodded. “Lutheran.”
“Pray to your God for forgiveness,” I said. “I will also pray for you, to mine.”
With that, I turned and headed into the jungle.
I made my way back to my former home in the cave high on the mountainside. I placed the grenades against the entrance and made a small fire. We would have only half an hour between the setting of the sun and complete darkness to make Nan’s plan work.
Using my spyglass, I saw Nan and four of her soldiers creeping through the brush along the rocks, heading toward the grove where the eggs had fallen. The Malvados were very protective of that area, though I had no idea how many of those eggs awaited new victims.
Nan was in position. I saw the flicker of embers as they lit the small sticks they gripped between their teeth. It was time.
I lifted the first grenade by its short rope and passed it through the flames of my fire. It ignited immediately. I began singing the Te Deum Laudamus, the song of Saint Augustine, the patron saint of my home, as I swung the grenade. The flames formed a circle of light as I spun it harder and released it.
The fireball sailed high into the sky, then turned toward earth and disappeared. Had they seen the signal? Should I try another? I began to panic.
There. A flare of light among the trees. And another. The Minos were throwing their grenades into the grove of eggs, enflaming them. Several of the pine trees began to ignite as well, casting harsh shadows across the ground.
The screeches of the Malvados rose above the valley as they raced toward the grove. Run! I mentally screamed at the women as I ignited another grenade and sent it as high as I could in a flaming arc. Now run!
The Minos saw the signal and turned back, following the rocky path as they headed toward the crevasse that led up the mountainside. They paused only long enough to ignite more grenades and throw them at the pines. The trees flared and burned brightly.
I shifted my spyglass behind them. The Malvados were on the ground. The flames prevented them from using the branches and forced them to the narrow path, slowing their pursuit.
Nan and her warriors reached the crevasse and crawled through it, climbing up and scrambling over the bare rock.
The Malvados followed, emerging from the jungle onto the escarpment. I counted twelve of them, the remaining entirety of their number on the island.
Their claws assisted them on the rocks, and I was certain the women could hear their screeching and scratching from behind. Above was the crest of the mountain where Adelantado had been trapped between the Malvados and the cliff over the rocks of the beach.
One of the women slipped and the lead Malvado reached out to grab her. The spear from Adelantado pierced its head, killing it instantly. Nan pulled it free as the creature fell away, then lifted her sister back onto the rocks, pushing her forward to continue their climb.
They were almost to the top. I launched another fire grenade into the air. The shadowy figures of five more Minos arose on the crest, waiting for their sisters.
I held my breath, for this was the most crucial part of the plan. Nan had to allow the Malvados catch up.
They paused just under the lip of the mountain top and waited.
The demons increased their pace, scrambling toward their prey. Even if they saw the five women on top, it would have made no difference. What could ten do against their power and numbers?
Closer and closer, Nan and the four held to the rocks, exposed.
Wait… Wait… NOW!
As if they heard the command in my head, the women turned and scrambled up, barely a few feet ahead of the horde.
Nan and her brave Minos raced into the arms of their waiting sisters, pushing them off the ledge, wrapping their arms and legs around them in a death embrace!
I could make out the longboat ropes tied around the ankles of the awaiting Minos as they fell toward the beach below them. The ropes had been measured carefully, to reach above the sand and the heavy twine had been thinned to stretch, relieving the force of gravity on their bodies during the fall.
The Malvados in the front stopped, confused, staring down at their escaped prey. The ones behind, ignorant of the event, still moved onto the rocks, pushing forward.
The mighty roars of three voices could be heard across the valley as the Nephilim stepped from their hiding places behind the Malvados, blocking their path back down the mountain.
The mighty giants charged into the serpents, spears and blades flashing in the remaining rays of the sun. Gigante grabbed one after another in his huge hands, breaking necks and ripping open the jaws of his opponents. Assessino ducked and rolled between them, jabbing at their chests, slicing at their necks. And Adelantado moved as if possessed, using his forearm under the neck of one creature, slicing down with his blade to rip open its torso, then spinning into the next demon with an upward stroke of the blades. All the while, they pushed forward, using the dead bodies as battering rams.
A Malvado slipped and fell over the cliff’s edge, followed by another, down toward the beach where the Minos had arranged the sharpened sticks of their defensive wall among the rocks, creating a death zone. Another. Then another. Those that didn’t fall to their doom faced the wrath of these avenging Angels. It was as if the most glorious church tapestry depicting the scripture of Revelation had come to life before my eyes.
Then silence. The battle was over. The three Nephilim raised the severed heads of Malvados into the air and roared in victory as the last vestige of light disappeared and darkness concealed the massacre.
I returned to the beach in the morning. The bodies of the Malvados littered the rocks, many of them still impaled on the sharp sticks. The Minos were gathering fruit and securing water in the wooden casks of the longboats. The Nephilim were not to be seen. Their mission here was done. I was certain they had already returned to the heavens.
I saw Edward with Nan and walked toward them. Edward’s left arm was hanging loose, his shirt ripped open. The wound underneath had pine sap drying on it. It seemed that he not been a mere translator after all and had done his part to subdue the Malvados who survived the fall.
Nan turned and smiled when she saw me. I cannot tell you how beautiful she looked at that moment. Tall, radiating strength and confidence, she glowed with the beatific light of the blessed.
“Jorge,” she said, “I thank you.” It was in broken Spanish and I could see Edward smiling. She then took my face in her hands and kissed my forehead.
“She’s honoring you,” Edward said. “She wanted to cut a tattoo on your head, but I told her it was not your way.”
With a step back, she pointed to me, then to the ship offshore.
She wanted me to take them home, as I had said. I smiled and swore to the Heavenly Father that I would see these warriors back to their homeland or die in the process.
I won’t bore you with the details. As I surmised, they were quick learners in sailing. My knowledge of the stars allowed us to find the currents we needed to return to Africa; to their home and freedom.
Edward and I stayed with the Minos in the Kingdom of Dahomey for eight years until he died of the plague. We became friends and I miss him. I hope he found peace.
I struggled with my decision to return to Spain. Perhaps the fear of blasphemy cowed me, but I realized that the Heavenly Father wanted me to tell my story, even at the risk of my life. And so, I am here.
I tell you, my friend, there is a war between Heaven and Hell that goes unseen by us. Demons do exist, but so do Angels. They are not as we know them in the artwork of the Masters, they are not the perfect beings we envision. They are ugly, hideous, violent, and as foreign to our eyes as the Nephilim. They can also be beautiful, strong, black, like the Minos, and more Godly in their sisterhood than most have ever seen in their brethren.
I tell you this not to diminish His Holiness in the Vatican. With his wisdom and the guidance of our Heavenly Father, we can defeat these Malvados when they appear again.
But, I fear the Lord might not send the Nephilim to fight our battle for us next time. What will we say to God if we allow the Angels he has already placed among us to be enslaved? Indeed, what if we ignore that we can all, like the Minos, be the defenders of humankind? If our lot is to enslave each other and arrogantly war upon those who could enrich us, then Satan has already won.
I pray that you believe me and will honor my request.
* * *
The document remained on the desk in front of Cardinal Cartega where Father Lorenzo had placed it. The Cardinal continued staring out his window at the skyline of Madrid. A light snow had already dusted the spires of the church and the fireplace glowed brightly with warmth.
“What became of this man?” the Cardinal asked.
“He returned to La Florida,” Lorenzo responded. “I had no reason to hold him here, so I gave him blessings and told him I would consider his request.”
“To show this to His Holiness, the Pope?” He glanced to the stack of bound papers.
“As he related it to me, yes. I took it down word for word.” Lorenzo shifted uncomfortably in the large wooden chair. “I would not have believed it myself nor have disturbed your Eminence with it, but there was more, if I may?” he asked as he reached for the large leather satchel next to him.
Cartega raised an eyebrow and nodded. Lorenzo pulled out an elongated skull, several sharp teeth still present in the jaw. He placed it on the desk.
The Cardinal leaned over the skull, examining it. “Amazing,” he said under his breath.
“Yes,” Lorenzo replied, encouraged by the Cardinal’s interest. “I thought it was extraordinary.”
“It’s almost Biblical,” the Cardinal continued.
“I agree!” Lorenzo replied. “I felt the same way as he related his tale.”
“But we already have a Bible, do we not? One that has been guided by the hand of God. Words that the people have learned to trust and, in that, to trust us.” The Cardinal picked up the document. “It does not include these women warriors or this strange description of the Nephilim, does it?”
Lorenzo’s heart sank. “But shouldn’t the Holy Father know? What if Jorge’s story is the truth?”
“It is rare to find a kingdom built purely on foundations of truth,” Cartega replied. “But just as surely, they can be brought down by it.”
The Cardinal tossed the papers into the fireplace. Lorenzo stared, his mouth open in shock as the pages flared and curled into embers.
“I will honor your church with a visit in the coming week, as an acknowledgement of your service. And your silence.” The Cardinal extended his hand.
Lorenzo stood, kissed Cartega’s ring, and bowed, backing out of the Cardinal’s office.
Cartega’s gaze turned to the skull on his desk. Was it truly a creature of Satan? Was this a soldier in Lucifer’s war of the coming Apocalypse?
He leaned forward, his head resting on his hands as he stared at it.
He felt all of Hell staring back.