“Are you
feeling up to this?” Apollyon glanced at Marcus. He nodded. His
friend didn’t need to worry. Marcus was intent on entering the
fortress and saving Amelia, and he was going to use every ounce of
his power to achieve that. It wasn’t as much as Apollyon commanded,
but it would be enough to get him through the fight ahead. “Then
follow me. You will have one chance. As soon as one of them falls,
they will shift formation to counteract the breach.”
Marcus
nodded again, wondering what Apollyon had planned, and followed
him. He tucked his wings back and dove when Apollyon did, cutting
through the colder air. His eyes watered from the constant stream
of wind over his face but he kept them open and fixed on Apollyon.
They reached the battle again and Apollyon blasted another hole in
it and then wove through the thickest part of the fight, where the
most soldiers were gathered.
A bright
white beam shot through the soldiers again and Marcus flapped his
wings and rolled to one side to avoid it, zipping around demons and
angels, his focus fixed on Apollyon. He was gaining speed and
leaving Marcus behind. Marcus tried harder, alternating between
cutting at any who got in his way and sweeping his right blade in
an arc and sending a wave of power towards them to knock them out
of his path.
Demonic
angels snarled at him as he passed, too slow to hit him with their
attacks. Another beam of light shot towards him and he dove
downwards through their ranks, using them as a shield and coming
out beneath the main bulk of the fight. A section of the angels
that were fighting them broke away and followed him. He flew faster
to evade them but they gained on him as he searched for Apollyon.
Nothing would stand between him and reaching Amelia before it was
too late, not even his own kind. He turned sharply onto his back,
swept his blade in their direction, releasing another shockwave,
and then dived off to his right.
Where had
Apollyon gone?
Marcus
turned onto his back again, flying beneath the battlefield,
scouring it for Apollyon. The divisions of angels involved were
mixed, not only guardians but mediators with their white wings and
hunters with their tawny eagle-like ones. There were no angels of
death present other than Apollyon, but Marcus couldn’t spot him
anywhere.
His tail
caught up with him and Marcus turned on a pinpoint and shot upwards
through the battle, knocking as many of the angels and demons out
of the way by grabbing their legs and dragging them downwards to
cover him from the angels following him.
He shot
to one side when someone slammed into him and cried out as he hit
other soldiers, his wings twisting painfully as he barrelled
through them. A broad chest stopped him and he looked up, his eyes
widening as they took in the mountainous black form before him. A
heavy fist swung towards him with an ungodly snarl and Marcus
ducked. It struck the angel behind him and Marcus came around
behind the monstrous creature, trying to evade another attack and
escape. He wasn’t here to fight the demons. His battle lay with the
angels.
The
demonic angel turned and grabbed him by his left wing, tugging him
back into the fight. Marcus growled and turned, bringing his right
blade around at the same time. He slashed down the demon’s thick
armour and then twisted his wrist and kept cutting downwards,
slicing into his stomach. The demonic angel snarled and hit him
with a hard left hook, sending Marcus flying into a group of
guardian angels.
Not
good.
They took
one look at Marcus, paused with a blank expression on their faces
that warned Marcus they were receiving orders, and then attacked.
Marcus ducked and dodged most of their punches and the jabs that
they made with their own spears, but one of the young men landed a
solid uppercut on his jaw, snapping his head backwards. Marcus rose
with the punch, ending up a few feet higher than the rest of them.
He beat his tired wings to gain more height, forced the end of the
spear in his left hand against the base of the blade in his right
so they merged into a double-ended spear, and darted his gaze over
them all, assessing their positions below him. This was not a
technique he had ever thought he would use on his own kind, but
they were in his way and time was running out for
Amelia.
Marcus
spread his wings, took a deep breath so his mind cleared, and
reached into the depth of his power. He twirled the spear faster
and faster in a circle above his head, barely missing his wings,
and then yelled as he sent it hurtling and spinning into the group
below them. A bright explosion of light blinded him and screams
rang out over the din of battle. Marcus held his hand out, calling
his double-ended spear back to him. It snapped into his left hand
and he shot upwards, not waiting to see the horrific extent of his
attack.
The sun
blinded him as he neared the fringe of the battle and he hacked his
way through to the open air, heading upwards. A small shadow formed
on the sun and his eyes widened again.
Apollyon.
He was
far above the battle, the bodies of those foolish enough to follow
him falling from the sky and dropping past Marcus before they
disappeared.
What was
he going to do?
Marcus
looked at the wall. He was far closer to it than he had realised. A
bright spot behind the shield warned that another devastating beam
of light was coming. The shield around the area glimmered in the
sunlight and then faded. It was opening to allow the attack
through.
Before
the angel on the other side could unleash his power, a tremendous
burst of golden light blasted down onto that section of wall from
high above, tearing through it and sending a shockwave of dust and
light out in all directions. Apollyon. It was the same power that
Apollyon had used on him during his mission to kill Amelia, only
this time it was infinitely stronger. Marcus’s heart exploded into
action and he shot upwards, his eyes on the wave of power
decimating everything in its path and coming straight at him, and
barely avoided it. The heat scorched the soles of his boots and
warmed his legs.
A black
spot fell from the sky and Marcus could only watch as Apollyon
plummeted through the air, his black wings in tatters and streaming
feathers in his wake.
“Apollyon!” Marcus went to dive towards him but stopped when
he received the message.
Go. Save her.
Marcus
shot towards the breach in the white wall of Heaven but wasn’t
about to leave his friend unaided. Apollyon had given every morsel
of his power to create this chance for Marcus and it had left him
close to death. He wouldn’t be able to stop his descent with his
broken wings.
Marcus
focused on Lukas, surrendering some of his strength in an attempt
to reach him from such a great distance, and sent a message to him.
Apollyon needed assistance.
A weak
reply came back, barely clear enough for him to understand it, but
he caught enough to know that Lukas had received his order and was
en route.
He hoped
that he would make it in time and that Serenity had regained her
strength, because Apollyon needed them both now more than ever. He
had given everything for Marcus and he wasn’t going to fail him. He
was strong enough to do this. He would save Amelia.
Marcus
rocketed through the gap in the wall, not slowing when he reached
the white gardens on the other side. He twisted and dived through
the waiting horde of blue-armoured angels, sending them flying with
both his power and his speed. He wouldn’t relent. Not until Amelia
was safe in his arms again.
He
blasted through the doors to Heaven’s fortress and beat his wings,
shooting into the bright corridors, following his instincts to
Amelia. He wasn’t familiar with this area of the fortress but
something deep within him said that this was the way. He ground to
a halt when he reached narrower white marble corridors and couldn’t
use his wings anymore.
Marcus
brought his spear out in front of him, focused so the staff
shortened in his hand, and then broke the two blades apart again. A
spear was no use in such narrow hallways. He pounded on foot
through the maze of corridors, diving into doorways whenever he
spotted angels ahead. His mission wasn’t to fight all who stood in
his way. It was faster to avoid as many as possible and conserve
his energy.
That
wasn’t going to be possible when he came close to Amelia though.
She would be under heavy protection. He was going to have to fight
his way through them and then he was going to have to fight his way
out of Heaven.
He ran
down another corridor and came out in a hallway with a two-tiered
row of arches down one side that revealed a courtyard and beautiful
white trees. Closer. Marcus looked around him, trying to figure out
which direction he needed to go in next. He paused when he sensed
someone approaching and then heard their footsteps echoing. Too
much of an echo to be the hallway. He looked to his left, towards
another long corridor. Whatever lay that way, it was so bright that
he couldn’t make anything out.
Marcus
headed down the corridor, following it until he reached an arched
doorway. He stopped when the light faded enough to reveal a huge
rectangular room with white marble pillars that stretched so high
into the heavens that he couldn’t see their ends.
He
brought his gaze down and fixed it on the angel he had
heard.
Lysander.
“Where is
she?” Marcus strode forwards, furled his wings against his back,
and readied himself. He slid one blade back into its sheath at his
waist and flexed the fingers of his left hand around the
other.
Anger
rolled through him, fiercer than before, driving him
onwards.
His
footsteps were loud in the cathedral-like room, echoing for what
seemed like forever, and he didn’t slow his approach when Lysander
raised his hand. Marcus unfurled his broad silver-blue wings, beat
them and shot straight at Lysander. He caught the angel of death
around his throat, closing his grip on him until he choked, and
flew with him, slamming him into the far wall at the other end of
the room. The marble splintered under the impact and Lysander
grunted.
“Tell
me!” Marcus tightened his grip, throttling Lysander, his icy blue
eyes holding the young angel’s gaze, and then started to unleash
some of his power.
Lysander’s eyes widened and he looked down towards Marcus’s
hand. If Lysander didn’t start speaking soon, he was going to use
his power to cut the man’s head off. A black part of his heart
wanted Lysander to remain quiet. The urge for violence, the dark
desire to tear Lysander apart as payment for his role in all of
this was too great to ignore. It blazed within him, fire in his
veins, controlling his actions.
He slowly
tightened his fingers around Lysander’s throat and unleashed a
little more of his power. A twisted sort of satisfaction flowed
into him as the panicked edge to the young angel’s eyes grew into
outright fear. It would expend energy that he couldn’t afford to
waste but Marcus was tempted to release him and force him to fight
so he could assuage his hunger for revenge.
Marcus
narrowed his gaze and Lysander choked out a noise that sounded
positive. He reined in his need to release the full wrath of his
power on Lysander. It took long seconds for his fury to abate
enough that he could convince himself to loosen his grip, but
eventually he eased his fingers away from the young angel’s throat
and let him slide down the wall to his feet.
“They’ll
kill me for telling you,” Lysander croaked and the fear in his eyes
this time wasn’t inspired by Marcus.
Had they
threatened the young angel to force him to obey their orders? The
things he knew about Heaven now and how far they would go to
achieve their goals, he wouldn’t put it past them.
“I will
kill you if you don’t tell me. Make your choice.”
Lysander’s gaze slid to one side and Marcus looked there to
his right. Another corridor and the sight of this one filled him
with dread.
He knew
it.
With a
roar, he turned and threw Lysander, sending him hurtling down to
the other end of the room, close to the courtyard, far enough away
that the young angel wouldn’t be able to catch him before he
reached the hallway.
Marcus
dived to his right, running down the corridor at full pelt, his
blade at the ready. He slowed to a jog when he saw the other end of
the hallway in the distance. No one was there. Could he have been
wrong? He was sure he would find Amelia here, had felt this was the
right place, but there were no guards.
Why
wouldn’t they guard her?
Marcus
skidded to a halt and backtracked when he passed a bright white
room. He paused on the threshold, breathing hard, and relief
bloomed in his heart when he saw Amelia lying on a raised white
marble slab with her eyes closed, her face peaceful in spite of her
condition. Heavy chains secured her ankles and held her wrists
above her head, tangling with her long silver hair. He quickly
scanned over her. No trace of blood.
His
heartbeat started to level but he resisted his desire to rush over
to her, instead taking calm measured strides into the room,
cautious to the last. There were no guards and it played on his
mind. They had left Amelia here with only weak little Lysander to
protect her. It didn’t make any sense.