Broken (38 page)

The last time I saw Nathaneal in battle he mostly used his hands and the power that came from them. I’ve seen him handle a sword before, but only in training. He’s a clean opponent, except, against the general I doubt that matters. As I watch the duelling pair, I’m relieved to see that in training Nathaneal was holding back his best moves.

He executes his strikes in short, quick movements. His footwork is faultless. He parries and thrusts with conviction and more precision than the general, but Ithran is vicious. It’s as if he’s striking everywhere at once. He keeps the pressure up even in between beats and has Nathaneal in a defensive position enough times to raise my concern. He wouldn’t be a general if he wasn’t an outstanding soldier – I know that. But this dark angel is not just a skilled swordsman; something deeper drives him. I wouldn’t be surprised if Prince Luca threatened to kill his children if he lost today.

Nathaneal counters Ithran’s thrusts expertly, but I’m still scared for him. The general focuses too much on Nathaneal’s hands, watching for an opportunity to strike them. And even though their parries are sometimes too fast to see in detail, each time Ithran lunges my heart stops.

Though it doesn’t show yet, I can tell Nathaneal is exhausted. But, as driven and ruthless as Ithran is, Nathaneal is just as relentless.

‘Your prince is too inexperienced to win this, you know.’

‘So you keep trying to tell yourself.’

Luca chuckles and I hate him for it.

Suddenly the action speeds up as if both Nathaneal and Ithran are sprinting for a finish line. They move forwards, backwards and sideways, striking, blocking, cutting and defending. Nathaneal brings his sword up close to his shoulder. He holds it there for a beat, and my pulse jumps. He has purposefully opened a target point on himself. Ithran lifts his sword to attack. With meticulous timing Nathaneal steps out with his left foot, thrusts downwards, striking Ithran’s chest above the breastbone, penetrating the general’s seamless armour.

‘Yes!’

‘Don’t be too hasty to celebrate, Princess.’

Ithran touches the hole, and his gloved fingers come away with blood. Beside me, Prince Luca grunts, but that’s nothing compared to the look of absolute loathing he gives Nathaneal now.

Their next parry is so fast I can’t maintain focus on one or the other. Behind them, I catch Michael squinting as he too tries to watch. He sets an arrow in his bow and without taking his eyes off the duel, shoots. Amazingly, he strikes a dark angel in the narrow gap of armour between his chin and sternum.

Meanwhile, the air seesaws around us with breezes generated from the hundreds of beating wings as angels clash with one another on the bridge, or in the air above it. Arrows whiz overhead, but none penetrate the protective dome-like circle the Gatekeepers have created around Luca and me.

Everywhere soldiers fall. Blood drips from swords as another hundred of Luca’s legion fly in to bolster the first round.

When will this battle end? Will there even be a winner? Or will it be like the wars of Earth, where no one side is ever truly the victor?

But the duel between Nathaneal and the general comes to an unexpected ending when the general dislodges Nathaneal’s sword, making it soar towards the ceiling. The crazed general quickly pounces, pushing his sword tip into the flesh of Nathaneal’s throat. Smirking, he then shoves Nathaneal backwards on to his elbows, triumphantly thrusting his boot down on to his chest.

Breathing heavily, the general carefully leans forward and takes a dagger from Nathaneal’s belt and a knife from each boot, sliding them across the floor to one of his soldiers. ‘Raise your hands at me and I will push this blade through to your other side before you can blink.’

No!
I call out in my thoughts.

Since this duel began I’ve kept my thoughts tightly controlled so not to distract Nathaneal, but now . . . now his eyes glance at me and tell me to be strong, that everything will be all right.

Still breathing deeply, and glowing with pride, Ithran looks to his king. ‘Sire, how would you like the pieces?’

‘What’s he talking about, Luca?’

But before Prince Luca answers the general finds himself surrounded by all four members of Nathaneal’s team, as well as his two brothers, Gabriel, who I knew was here, and Jerome, who must be in Gabriel’s unit. They all have their weapons, still dripping with the blood of dark angels, aimed at Ithran.

And as other angels, both of light and dark, become aware, the fighting comes to an eerie standstill.

Wounded and incapacitated angels litter the floor, some groaning aloud, pleading for a healer; others wait with open-eyed stares for their own healing processes to kick in.

‘It seems we have reached a stalemate,’ Prince Luca says as he scans the disturbing sight. His sharp intake of breath lets me know, though he is a monster, that he’s not untouched by the scene. ‘General, withdraw your sword.’

‘But . . . but, sire, I
have
him,’ the general sputters.

‘And his crew have you. Look around, General.’

He takes a peek and groans. ‘Whether I release the prince or not, they will still kill me, sire.’

‘They won’t touch you as long as
I
have what
they
want.’

He means me. Finally, General Ithran understands his predicament. He sneers at Nathaneal while taking his time to withdraw his sword. I watch, unable to believe my eyes as he pushes his sword into Nathaneal’s throat and twists it before withdrawing with painstaking slowness. A trickle of deep, cardinal-red blood runs down Nathaneal’s chest.

And finally I feel power thrumming through my body. The red haze is back and I welcome it like I would an old friend. I imagine my hands are fists of solid steel. I would love to take the general out myself – but first I have to escape Luca’s gripping hold.

In my thoughts I will Nathaneal to look at me. But Luca is tormenting him by making a show of sniffing my hair. ‘Keep still, Princess. I don’t want even one hair on your head harmed in this pathetic but somewhat entertaining exercise.’

His flippant sarcasm in the face of all this pain on both sides inflames me even further. The red haze deepens and I embrace it, drawing it up into my arms to make them as strong as steel too.

Suddenly Prince Luca laughs at Nathaneal, catching me off-guard. ‘Well, well, my inexperienced adversary, apparently it’s true – you still don’t have permission to annihilate a king. On the other hand I can do whatever I want with you since you’re not a King yet, and with the mistakes you’re making you’ll never become one.’

He looks to his general. ‘I’ve had enough of this. I tire of it! I’m leaving now, and I’m taking Ebony with me.’ He gives our Gatekeepers what appears to be a pre-arranged signal, before returning to his general. ‘Order the entire legion up here and end this quickly. There’s been enough bloodshed today. Overpower the enemy with sheer force, General. Leave no witnesses.’

‘Yes, sire!’

‘Wait, except for this lot.’ He indicates Gabriel, Jerome, Michael, Isaac, Uriel and Solomon. ‘Put them in the tombs.’

‘And the young prince?’

‘Destroy him. But slice off his hands before you shred his soul. I want to see those hands for myself.’

He wants to show them to
me
, so I will know that my love is truly gone, and in Luca’s sick head that will mean I will then have room in my heart for him.

‘Have your first lieutenant bring them to my suite.’

‘On a silver platter, your highness?’

Luca snarls. ‘I don’t care if they’re in a paper bag! Just bring them to me.’

‘Yes, sire! My pleasure!’

A paper bag! His pleasure!

I need more power. I’m panicking, and the red haze is losing intensity. I need training to know how to use my power properly, how to draw it up and keep it where I need it, when I need it!

Where is my power?

Nathaneal told me in training once that it lies dormant inside my inner core, waiting for me to awaken it. And only I can do so by believing in what I am and accepting it in my heart.

Soldiers dressed in all-black fly into the tunnel, hundreds of them at once. Luca isn’t kidding about how many he has on call. They don’t stop to assess the scene – they just attack, running and leaping and flying across the spaces, screaming some kind of war cry in their dark language.

I close my eyes and concentrate on that centre part of my mind that nothing and no one ever reaches except me. It’s dark in there, and so peaceful. I look around, drawn to a small light that flickers and seems to call to me.

It becomes difficult to hold the image when Luca starts dragging me towards the edge while the six huge Gatekeepers close in around us, forming a barricade with their shields in front like an Ancient Roman legion.

I take a deep breath, plant my feet firmly on the ground and focus on the flame flickering in my mind.

Luca stops. ‘Princess, what are you doing?’

I don’t know how long I can hold out against him, so I need him to stop talking.

‘Ebony, your body temperature is rising. What
are
you doing?’ he says again.

Apparently, something
is
working.

Inside, my body shifts somehow, as if it’s speeding up. The flame in the quiet spot in my mind gets bigger. My arms and legs grow heavy. Luca still has me trapped in his grip, but I know that whatever he’s feeling has him worried. I cast my glance around, looking for Nathaneal.

The battle surges with soldiers engaged in combat everywhere. Isaac is taking on the enemy three at a time. Gabriel and Jerome are back to back with too many enemies to count. I don’t see Nathaneal yet, but I continue focusing on the flame, pulling and stretching it until there is nothing in my head but fire.

A red haze appears on the edges of my vision. A rush of heat swirls down into the centre of my chest and spreads outwards. A burning sensation flows in after it, like acid filling my veins, moving into my arms, my fingers, and down into my legs.

This
is my power. I recognise it. I feel it. And I
will
it to grow, to strengthen, to deepen, to swell.

Everything burns. It’s as if I’m making electricity in my core and syphoning it through all the cells of my body.

My breathing accelerates, my heart races, and I hear Nathaneal call out to me. He sounds worried. His voice punctures the air between us even while sounding far away. ‘Open your eyes!’ he calls. ‘Ebony, open your eyes and breathe!’

I open my eyes and see Nathaneal a short distance away, his eyes more intense than ever, calling out, ‘Release it! Breathe, sweetheart, breathe!’

But how? I’ve never come this far before.

Prince Luca suddenly stops trying to drag me over the edge. His arms fall away and he roars a deep abdominal growl. ‘Run!’ he orders his Gatekeepers while he leaps over them and into the air, flying away from me like a madman escaping the flames of his own fire.

And without his arms wrapped so tightly around me any more, I find I
can
breathe. I exhale all the air in my lungs.

And then I explode.

47

Jordan

I’ve been hearing whistling now for at least an hour. Sometimes it becomes faint and I can hardly hear it, but sometimes it sounds so close I’m sure it’s coming from my cave. Just as I get my hopes up, it fades again.

And every time it sounds close I call out, yelling for help, inadvertently pulling on the chains and opening up my wounds from previous attempts to escape or make noise. Now my wrists are oozing blood again.

If nobody finds me, I will die down here. That’s a fact. The angels will look for me once they realise I’m missing, but I could be already dead by then. I wonder if the girls will keep looking for me. Or will it be my dead body someone finds first? The image of my skeleton hanging from this rock wall in fifty, or maybe a hundred years from now sucks the air out of my already struggling lungs. It’s starting to feel like someone has whacked me with a sledgehammer.

The whistling becomes louder suddenly, closer than ever. At least it’s someone comfortable enough this far underground to be whistling a jolly tune.

I think about that for a sec and a familiar face springs to mind, someone who has direct contact with the Dark Prince and calls himself the Messenger. I start recognising his voice, and can’t decide whether to be relieved or terrified.

Light from his lantern spills into the big room where they chained me. My eyes take their time to adjust. He’s almost directly in front of me by the time they do.

He’s dressed in boots, jeans, a knee-length leather coat and a new, expensive-looking haircut. He had a
haircut
? While I’m chained to a wall in a pitch-black cave, alone?

He lifts the lantern to shoulder height and studies my face. ‘You’re still alive.’ He sounds surprised.

‘Come to gloat?’ I ask.

‘I could always leave.’

‘Nah, don’t do that.’

He smirks with his trademark swaggering smile that the girls at school used to die for. With his free hand, Adam Skinner wraps his fingers round the cuff on my right wrist. He stops and stares at the blood, both fresh and congealed, then at me. But he doesn’t say anything and while he stares, my skin grows hotter until it starts burning.