The white-haired teenager looked over his shoulder and saw the dim outline of a door in the stone wall. A way out, an escape. Imorean got to his feet and stumbled toward it. He was dizzy and lightheaded, but that made him no less determined to get out of here. Imorean pressed one ear to the door. He couldn’t hear any activity outside it. He pulled on it. The door didn’t budge. He threw his weight against it. Still the door didn’t move. It must have been barred from the outside. Imorean groaned in frustration. He had to get out of here. He had to get away from Vortigern. Away from the demons that he knew were all around him. Then a ray of dim, dusk light fell across Imorean’s face. There was a window in here. Imorean walked across the cell to it, as though in a trance. The window was secured with bars of thick stone, but Imorean had a feeling if he tucked his wings in tightly enough, he might be thin enough to slip between them. On the floor, Vortigern arched up and shrieked, adding to the cacophony above. It was high and animal. Utterly inhuman. Horror sparked in Imorean’s heart. He had to get out.
Imorean quickly crossed the cell and rested his hands on the ledge of the window. He pulled himself up and tucked his wings as tight against his back as he could. His hands and head fit through the gap easily. It was tight as he began to push his shoulders and wings through. He took a deep breath and used his feet to keep pushing through the gap.
Quite by accident, Imorean looked down. He went still. Vertigo attacked him. Dizziness and nausea reared up in his chest. His cell must have been on one of the exterior walls of Vortigern’s fortress. Below him, there was nothing but cloud and empty space. Imorean steadied himself, panting slightly. If he could get his wings through, there would be no issue. His feet slipped on the stone floor behind him and Imorean fell forward, head pointed straight down toward the ground thousands of feet below. On instinct, he flared his wings. They opened. Somehow, they had been pushed through. Imorean breathed a heavy sigh of relief and started beating them, using his wings and his hands to get the rest of his body through the narrow gap. Soon his legs and feet followed him and Imorean found himself hovering in open air. He was about to laugh in relief when there was another explosion from above. Imorean looked up and gasped. A full section of the mountain had been blown away. Massive chunks of rock were tumbling down toward him. Imorean covered his head and moved to get away from the danger zone. He banked sharply to avoid a huge boulder, only to cause his right wing to crash into another one.
His right wing buckled and he plummeted, spinning wildly in circles, flipping over and over in midair. Cloud cover raced up toward him. Who knew how far he had left to fall until he slammed into the fjord. He flared his left wing, getting his fall under control and finding himself able to hover awkwardly. He groaned and caught sight of a small ledge nearby. If he could make it to that, he might be able to get himself to better safety. Painfully, Imorean managed to glide toward it. His heart leaped to his throat as his right wing failed him. He dropped a few feet. Imorean reached for the ledge, his fingers only just grabbing it as his right wing flopped uselessly against his side. Imorean dangled on the edge of the outcrop, panting heavily. His fingers shook. All his weight depended on them. He couldn’t stay here. He knew that much. With a cry, he slammed his free hand down on the top of the ledge and used his left wing as much as he dared. Bracing his feet against the sheer face of the mountain, he pushed upward and climbed.
Imorean braced himself on his hands and knees, breathing hard. His right wing was hot and throbbing painfully. Some bone had to be broken. The wound where Bethany had shot him the previous day had reopened and blood was dribbling down the feathers. Imorean screamed as a boulder crashed through the ledge, just inches away from his fingers. Impact threw him to his side and sent him dangerously close to the edge. Imorean swallowed hard as he saw the distance between himself and the thick clouds below. He had no idea how far it was to the ground, but he was certain that if he fell he would be killed.
A second boom rocked the sky. Imorean looked back up to the fortress Vortigern had called Teufelsschloss. The entire stronghold must have been built inside the side of the mountain. Imorean’s jaw dropped as he saw demons flooding out of holes in the mountainside. The air was thick with bodies. Angels were in the air as well, leaving trails of silver in their wakes. Flames of a very familiar shade of green were leaping out of the very mountain itself.
“Imorean!” called a few voices from a nearby ledge on the mountainside. Imorean looked over and smiled in relief as he saw his squad standing on a ledge some distance away. They were here! Awkwardly, Imorean stood up. They were here, but how was he supposed to reach them? There was a large gap of open air between them and Imorean knew that he wouldn’t be able to reach them on his own. His entire body was shaking and his right wing was one throbbing mess of pain. He raised one arm and offered them a crooked smile.
“I’m okay!” he called, raising his voice as loud as he dared.
There was another awful noise from above, like a thunderclap, and Imorean looked up. He gasped in horror as he saw Vortigern diving down toward him. The demon commander’s teeth were bared and his sword was out. Imorean stumbled forward toward his squad. He had to reach them! Even from this distance, he could see how horrified they all looked. Ryan was making to move forward, but Dustin and Baxter were holding him back. Roxy was being held onto by Toddy and Mandy. Colton seemed torn between going to Imorean and staying with the squad.
Imorean didn’t even have time to smile in encouragement at them as Vortigern hit him. A loud cry was torn from Imorean’s throat. Vortigern grabbed him by the wing joints and dragged him backwards. Freefall caught him as the demon commander pulled him down off the ledge. The pressure of Vortigern’s hands were gone. Weightlessness grabbed Imorean. He flat spun for a moment before he managed to gain some of control his fall. A scream ripped through Imorean again as he opened his wings. He had to. He had no other choice. Pain or death. He circled in the air. Brown eyes looked up in horror. He had fallen over a hundred feet. Getting back to his squad was no longer an option. He could barely hover. Flying upward wasn’t possible. All the angels fighting above would be unable to hear him or help him. Something dark flashed in his peripheral vision. Horror filled Imorean as he realized he had to face Vortigern on his own. It was just the two of them. He had to outwit his enemy. It was his only chance. Ignoring the stabbing, tearing pain in his wing, Imorean turned himself awkwardly and drifted down toward the cloud cover below. He was glad they were thick snow clouds. He could hide within them. The teenager held still and hovered just inside the tops of the clouds, shrouded by mist. Even though it was excruciatingly painful, he tried to keep his wingbeats to a minimum, not wanting to disturb the cloud cover.
“I know you’re here, Imorean,” hissed Vortigern in fury, his voice oddly amplified by the clouds. Darkness flashed. “How did you manage to lead Michael down on me, then? The base at Teufelsschloss is new. He shouldn’t have known of it, unless one of you useless angels told him.”
Imorean repressed a tremble. The fury in Vortigern’s voice was almost tangible. He held still as more of the clouds near him were disturbed. He could see a vague shape disturbing the gray water vapor. Then there was a snarl and a quick, humorless laugh. A second shape! Or was it Vortigern again? Imorean spun. Panic sunk its claws into him. Where would Vortigern’s attack come from?
“Michael,” said Vortigern. His voice sounded more distant now. “You should show yourself. You fight like a coward.”
“I use my wits,” replied a voice that filled Imorean with a sense of relief. Michael. Michael was here. Michael had come.
“Wittiness didn’t save your race, did it?” snapped Vortigern. “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill the rest of your angels, I’ll kill this boy that you seem to care about so much and there won’t be a single thing you can do to stop it!”
Imorean looked away as there was a bright flash of green light. When he opened his eyes, he found that the cloud cover of the nearby vicinity had been blown away. Michael a
nd Vortigern were circling each other, swords drawn. Imorean could almost feel the tension in the air. He was reminded of two wolves squaring off before a fight. Then Vortigern moved. If Imorean had blinked, he would have missed it. The demon commander flashed past Michael, his sword raised for an attack, but Michael was gone. Vortigern looked around in confusion for a moment, then Michael attacked from below. There was an unearthly wail that sent chills up Imorean’s spine as a foot of one of Vortigern’s wings was sheared from his body. Vortigern swayed wildly in the air, barely able to maintain a hover. Michael circled around Vortigern and placed himself between Imorean and the demon commander.
“If you want him, come and get him,” said Michael, raising his sword and holding it across his body. “But you will have to go through me.”
Vortigern lifted his lips and snarled.
“Fine,” hissed Vortigern. “I have wanted for many years to plunge my sword through you.”
The demon commander raced forward and Michael moved to block him, but Vortigern changed tack at the very last minute, spinning past Michael’s sword. He shrieked as the Archangel’s second sword caught him in the shoulder. Michael hadn’t budged. He sheathed his spare sword and twirled his primary weapon. Vortigern circled. Imorean watched in horror as the demon soared up high over their heads and dropped. He could hear the air singing as Vortigern’s sword sliced through it. Like water, Michael slipped sideways. Red colored the sky as Vortigern was hurled off course, a fresh wound in his side. Imorean moved to go to Michael as Vortigern rounded in the sky. Red seeped up between the commander’s fingers as he took up a new position. The terrible snarl on his face convinced Imorean to move. He shifted his wings to approach Michael.
Michael turned his head. “Stay where you are, Imorean!”
Vortigern moved, tearing forward. The tip of his weapon found Michael’s forearm, splitting skin from wrist to elbow. Michael cried out. Imorean gasped as he saw bright red blood paint the pale sky. The white sword in Michael’s hand dropped, spinning toward the ground. Michael moved to redraw his second sword. Imorean’s mouth opened. The tip of Vortigern’s sword quivered inches away from Michael’s throat. There was nothing he could do to help his brother.
“Well then, big brother, this should be easier than I imagined. You’re distracted by the boy, aren’t you?” said Vortigern, hovering just a few feet away from Michael. The demon commander backed away slightly. Michael paused and Vortigern moved again. He swung his black sword, catching Michael in the ribs and digging his weapon in deeply. Imorean covered his ears as Michael screamed. Vortigern was flung backwards by a wave of green. The very mountains around them seemed to tremble. More boulders tumbled down from above. The battleground was falling apart.
Michael clamped one hand over his heavily bleeding wound and moved out of the way of a falling chunk of rock. Destruction was in the air. Blood and sulfur stunk the sky. Overhead, explosions rent the world. Wrist and ribs bleeding, Imorean knew his leader was in trouble. There had to be something he could do to help!
Vortigern laughed and pulled his weapon over his head to strike another blow.
“No,” whispered Imorean. Michael was injured and Vortigern was preparing to take away someone else that mattered to him. There had to be something… there was! Imorean pulled the tiny knife from his boot and—ignoring the pain in his wing—surged forward, passing Michael and hitting Vortigern with as much force as he could.
“Imorean, stop!” cried Michael, but Imorean barely heard him. He gripped the demon commander by the back of the head and brought the knife down. Just before Imorean was able to catch Vortigern with what could have been a fatal blow, the commander grabbed his injured wing in a death grip. Imorean cried out, certain that the fine bones beneath the feathers were being ground to dust. In that moment of distraction, he missed his target. The small knife was dug into Vortigern’s shoulder joint and Vortigern lost his grip on his sword. White feathers clashed with black as Imorean and Vortigern tumbled over one another in the air. They were spinning round and round, the world around them a blur, plummeting down toward the fjord below. Vortigern opened his mouth and roared at Imorean, his fangs growing longer in his mouth. Imorean heard Vortigern’s teeth clack back together and he was sure he nearly lost a chunk of skin. Imorean closed his eyes, but maintained his hold on Vortigern. Vortigern swatted him across the face, fingernails clawing through the skin, leaving bloody grooves in their wake. Imorean’s instincts told him to let go, to release his assailant, but he didn’t pull away. Instead he leaned forward and whispered to Vortigern.
“I hope this kills you. You’ve done enough damage.”
Imorean caught a glimpse over Vortigern’s shoulder as they tumbled over and over each other, each one fighting the other to gain control over their fall. Even if one of them did manage to regain control over the downward plunge, neither of them would be able to pull out of it in time. They were falling too fast. Imorean swallowed hard and closed his eyes, looking away.
“Don’t be a fool, Imorean,” laughed Vortigern. “You know only angel or demon steel struck in a vital place can kill me. I will recover.”
Imorean cried out as they struck an ice floe moments later and broke apart. He heard a splash not far away, seconds before he crashed through a thin crust of ice into frigid Arctic water. The cold struck him all the way to the core and his breath was stolen from his body. He gasped. Freezing salt water rushed his lungs. Panic. Scramble. He clawed against the water. He flailed uselessly, gasping as water flooded him. He sunk. The hole in the ice above him grew smaller. It was a glimmer above him. Even if he had had the energy to, Imorean knew he wouldn’t have been able to move. One wing was broken badly. He could feel blood pouring from the scratches and burn on his face and the freshly reopened wound in his wing joint. Stinging salt poured into the injuries. Perhaps this was it. The end. Angels weren’t able to swim very well and he was half angel. He was wounded. He had inhaled water. Yes, this was it. He could feel his body descending downward. His sodden feathers dragged him down. Hadn’t Gabriel said he was still mortal? Death then, death was still possible. Imorean opened his mouth and a few tiny bubbles trickled toward the surface. No air was left in him. The weight of water crushed down on him.
‘Imorean,’ whispered a voice in the back of his mind. He knew that voice. It was his mother’s voice. Brown eyes flickered open, ignoring the sting of salt. This wasn’t his ending. He had to get back to the surface. He had to get revenge on the demon that caused this. He had to find a way to bring his family justice.
Underwater, Imorean righted himself and swam back up toward the surface. The pressure on his body was lessening and the world behind the closed lids of his eyes seemed to be becoming lighter.
After what seemed like an eternity, Imorean’s head broke the surface. Painfully, he breathed in frigid Arctic air. Immediately, his wings made to drag him down and felt as though they were pulling him back to a watery grave. Imorean did his best to bring them up so that they were out of the water, but his right wing refused to obey him. There was no feeling in it at all. He scrambled in the water, trying to clamber onto the ice, but it shattered every time he put any weight on it.
“Imorean!” shouted a chorus of seven nearby voices. Imorean struggled to keep his head above the surface as he turned to look. The cold of the water was sapping his strength. Flying in low and fast along the surface of the water was his squad. Imorean smiled weakly in relief and raised one hand, letting them know he had seen them.
When they were close enough, Baxter and Ryan reached down toward him. Imorean managed to raise both hands and grabbed onto theirs.
Chapter 25
“I think he’s waking up,” said a voice.
Imorean’s eyelids flickered. Was that Toddy’s voice he could hear? His entire body ached. He was exhausted, sleep tugged hard at him, trying to pull him back down. He was warm and comfortable. His peace was broken again only heartbeats later.
“He might just be shuffling,”
said another voice. Colton?
“No, he does this when he wakes up,” said a third voice. That had been Roxy. Imorean knew that beyond a doubt. The white-haired teenager fought to open his eyes. He wanted to see. Was everyone all right? Was his entire squad here? Where was here? Imorean’s eyelids felt like lead, but through massive effort, he managed to open them. He caught sight of white sheets and blankets covering him. They looked like the covers that were kept in the hospital wing at Felsenmeer.
“He’s awake,” said Toddy. Imorean slowly raised his gaze. Yes, he was definitely back at Felsenmeer. He recognized the interior of the small hospital wing. Toddy, Roxy and Colton were all sitting on his bed, looking at him in concern.
“How do I look?” asked Imorean, smiling crookedly at them. His voice sounded rough and his throat felt dry as he spoke.
“Like death,” replied Roxy, leaning over and grabbing a glass from a small table at his bedside. “But considering how close you came to it, that’s hardly surprising.”
Roxy passed the glass of water to Imorean and he took it, drinking gratefully. He was so relieved to see Roxy, Toddy and Colton. They made him feel as though he was properly awake and alive.
“How are you feeling, bud?” asked Toddy, furrowing his brow in concern.
“I can’t feel anything,” replied Imorean, rubbing his eyes with one hand and moving to sit up. As he moved, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and he was forced to lie back. Imorean caught a glimpse of his arm as he laid back down and saw a needle running into a vein. He shuddered, his stomach turning.
“What is it?” he asked, looking at his friends.
“You’ve been having morphine,” said Colton. “Raphael wanted to wait until you woke up before he did anything more drastic.”
Angels Defying (Angels Rising Book 3) Page 20