Broken

by Marianne Curley

  A tear pushes through my determination not to cry.

  Luca hisses like a snake. ‘You arrogant fools! Do you really believe you can hold up against an entire legion of Skade soldiers?’

  Isaac murmurs, ‘I’ve had worse odds.’

  The angel with sea-green eyes says, ‘Yeah, I remember, sunshine. That battle lasted thirty-seven days and by the end we’d whipped their butts.’

  Luca’s whole body jerks. ‘I have underground tombs with seals so secure I can keep you imprisoned for all of time. And there is something else you insolent idiots should know. When you are so weary and can’t hold up your swords a moment more,’ he glances at Michael, ‘or your bow, I will separate your heads from your bodies and fling your dismembered parts throughout the distant reaches of space.’

  ‘Don’t hold your breath, Luca. We don’t tire easily.’

  Nathaneal’s calm voice infuriates Luca. He screeches, and multiple voices reverberate through the tunnel. ‘Have it your way, for today you will all die!’

  46

  Ebony

  An unexpected male voice bellows into the tunnel, startling everyone, ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Prince Luca.’

  Everyone turns towards the blue light of the Crossing entrance. Most of us recognise the self-assured, somewhat cocky, somewhat arrogant tones of Prince Gabriel.

  Nathaneal nods at me with that gorgeous smile-wink of his. We’re not out of this by a long shot, but the odds have improved because Gabriel would not have come alone.

  He looks superb as he lands on the bridge and strides down the tunnel in his war uniform with black chest armour and matching helmet, his visor raised to reveal the family’s stunning blue eyes.

  ‘I thought you might need a hand,’ he says when he reaches his brother, flicking a look back to where his troops are starting to pour through the blue light and forming rows along the bridge.

  ‘Is Jordan safe?’ I call out even before acknowledging Prince Gabriel’s presence. I just have to know. ‘Gabriel, is Jordan all right?’

  Gabriel holds my glance a moment too long, his eyes darting left, then right, as if Jordan will appear suddenly in his line of vision. With a furrowed brow he whispers to his brother, ‘We thought he was with Ebony. Amber said he was kidnapped by the same angels who took her.’

  ‘No, no, no!’ I scream out. ‘He was chained to a wall in an underground cave on the ridge.’

  After Nathaneal gives him a slight nod Gabriel says, ‘I’m sorry, Ebony, I don’t know where Jordan is, but I’ll send word to the Brothers to begin an intensive search of all caves in the area.’

  Nathaneal sneers at Luca and hisses, ‘What have you done with him?’

  ‘Well, that would be my business.’

  ‘You keep your sordid hands off Jordan!’

  Luca laughs. ‘My “sordid hands” are all over that boy. And soon he too will belong to me.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen, Luca.’

  ‘It’s too late for your paltry promises, Nathaneal.’

  Losing control, Nathaneal moves as if to attack us both. White light shudders out from him in waves, altering the air between us.

  But Luca raises his hand to my throat, blocking my air and burning my skin at the same time. They eye each other until Nathaneal’s threatening stance eases and Luca lowers his hand enough for me to breathe again and heal.

  Nathaneal shifts his eyes to mine, and the anguish I see there is gut-wrenching.

  But then Luca taunts him, ‘You let that boy down so many times it’s a wonder he can stand to be in the same room as you.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Jordan and I have a covenant. He begged for it and I was kind enough to oblige him. What could I do?’

  ‘Explain,’ Nathaneal says.

  But Luca is having too much fun. ‘For the record, I don’t have to tell you anything, but since I’m feeling benevolent I suppose I will.’

  Luca smiles. ‘It started with Solomon.’ He looks at the super-big angel with coffee-coloured wings. ‘Really, Solomon, how hard could it have been to protect a human girl? Ebony tried to protect Jordan and she didn’t have the benefit of Guardian-how-to classes. She didn’t even know she was an angel for sixteen years! Unfortunately, protecting Jordan didn’t turn out well either, did it, Princess?’ He glances down at me, and then grins at Nathaneal. ‘Anyway, when Solomon called you for help, you failed the boy too. Big mistake on both your parts because the girl whose soul you missed was Jordan’s mother.’

  ‘You bargained for his life with his own mother’s soul!’ Nathaneal’s voice oozes disgust.

  ‘Well, not quite, but we can deal with that trivial point later. Back to the covenant, Jordan gave me the chore of deciding when he dies. I felt sorry for the boy, and since I’m more experienced in these matters than he is I agreed.’

  I try to break free, desperate to attack him, but his grasp is so strong and so tight, it’s like being wrapped in a steel cage. I can’t feel my powers. So I resort to words and logic.

  ‘That was a dream Jordan had in his own bed. Your covenant with him is not binding.’

  ‘Oh yes it is, and I’ll tell you why – when we agreed on the terms, Jordan wasn’t dreaming.’

  ‘You can’t get into my house,’ Nathaneal insists.

  ‘Normally, with all your confounded protections over it, I wouldn’t. But Jordan invited me into his dream and, well, I happened to be in the area.’

  ‘You mean, you were watching and waiting like the predator you are. Still, I don’t believe Jordan invited you. That would mean . . .’ Nathaneal’s voice trails off, and his troubled eyes scan Luca’s amused ones.

  ‘That’s right. He was thinking nasty, dark thoughts about you . . . or someone.’ He shrugs.

  Nathaneal remains silent. I can tell by his serious face that he’s really worried.

  ‘Don’t worry, I don’t want Jordan yet. Why would I, when I have –’ he looks down at me – ‘my new toy.’ He nibbles on my ear, an action meant, I’m sure, to provoke Nathaneal.

  It does. It drives him crazy. Michael and Gabriel hold him back and talk him into calming down.

  But Luca’s not finished yet. He whispers at my ear, ‘As soon as we deal with this riff-raff, Princess, I’ll take you home like you asked earlier, like you pleaded.’

  I shut my eyes tight. I couldn’t stand it if Nathaneal believed him.

  Prince Luca calls over to his general: ‘I’ve developed an appetite to get this over with. General Ithran, deploy your legion. Send up a hundred at a time. I want them all eliminated. And start with this foolish love-sick prince.’

  The general’s first lieutenant flies in and the two military men converse through mind-links, their eyes flitting over Gabriel’s soldiers. A moment later the first lieutenant rockets out with the sound and speed of a jet, drawing everyone’s attention to his dramatic departure. And while all eyes are on him, the general draws his sword on Nathaneal.

  ‘Behind you,’ Michael warns, then moves to defend himself as Luca’s Prodigies rush over and attack the team.

  Meanwhile, Gabriel disappears in a blur of movement over our heads, promptly returning with his troops, who march down the tunnel looking and sounding just as intimidating as Luca’s first hundred, who fly in and meet them halfway.

  The only soldiers not moving are the six Gatekeepers surrounding Luca and me.

  The battle gains momentum quickly. Everywhere around us swords clash, sparks erupt into flames, arrows soar. Michael’s arrows are the most identifiable, leaving a trail of bright burning lights through the air, almost always hitting their marks.

  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 execute
s 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!’