Page 87 of A Queen Of Broken Realms
We’re one story above the road, which appears quiet at first. The fighting must be a few streets over, but it sounds vicious. We watch in silence, and it isn’t long until a few souls rush by, glancing over their shoulders as they run. They disappear out of view as a small contingent of five Nephilim march down the street, their faces covered with golden masks, obsidian axes clutched in their hands. An angel lands in front of them, halting their progress as she engages them in a short-lived fight. Theanunnakiholds her own for a few minutes until of the Nephilim strikes her ribs with an ax, another hitting the joint of her wing as she falls, feathers scattering on the cobblestones like bloodied blades. A third Nephilim soldier withdraws a small ampule from a pouch at his side and lights it before throwing it down on the injured angel. When they seem satisfied that theanunnakiwill not put out the flames in her writhing anguish, they walk away, leaving her to scream and die in solitude.
“Christ,” I whisper, laying a hand on my armored chest as my heart thunders. “That was fast.”
“Five against one.”
“Still…”
“They’ve brought hellfire,” Eryx says, and Ashen nods. “I guess they’re not counting on the demons coming to our aid. They must know you can withstand it.”
“We shouldn’t count on the Shadow Realm coming either,” I reply. “We need to assume it will just be the three of us until at least Cole and Ediye can make it. That might be all we’ve got.”
Eryx gives a grim nod. “We’d better go. If the Nephilim are here in Esagila, it’s likely they’re getting closer to the ziggurat. We’ve got some distance to cover to get there.”
We nod to one another and follow Eryx out of the room and down a dark hallway that leads to a staircase. The foyer is empty and undisturbed, as though war doesn’t already rage just outside the tall double doors. We crack one of them open just enough that I can listen for footsteps on the other side. When I’m sure there’s no one there, we creep out onto the street.
Flames glow against the night sky over the buildings behind us as we jog down the street, keeping close to the buildings and darting into alleyways to communicate in whispers. On occasion, I can see the top of the ziggurat looming ahead, its golden point reflecting the light of the burning city like a beacon. Eryx was right, we have a lot of streets to cover before we make it there.
And it doesn’t take long for us to run into trouble.
We round a corner and are clinging to the edge of the street as a slew of arrows rains down on us, their whistling trajectories the only warning for us to find cover. Eryx is quick to move and shelters all three of us with his wings. Arrows clink on his feathers and fall to the road, and the onslaught is just starting to slow when I hear three pairs of footsteps running toward us. Ashen pushes his way free of Eryx’s wings before the arrows have stopped and meets the first Nephilim with his sword, cutting him down with a slice across the throat. The enemy hasn’t even hit the ground when Ashen is on the next one, plunging his sword through the aggressor’s armor and into his heart. Smoke erupts from Ashen’s shoulders as he fends off the third Nephilim, and I push myself up to rush forward, dropping into a slide beneath the cover of Ashen’s wings to slice the Nephilim’s inner thigh. It cuts through the artery and brings him to the ground in a rush of blood. I thrust my sword into the Nephilim’s back and cut my way up as I stand, his bones snapping like a beat to the melody of my vicious hiss.
“Well,” I say as Eryx joins us. “I guess they might know we’re here now.”
Eryx gives a weak smile and we start running before the arrows begin to fall. We make it another two blocks before we engage in battle again, this time with four Nephilim, though we’re joined by an injured angel who manages to take down two on his own. We keep pushing onward, gaining and losing more angels as we go, encountering larger groups of Nephilim soldiers as we gradually inch our way closer to the ziggurat.
It takes at least two hours of fighting to make it just four blocks closer.
Even despite the slow fighting, the blood, the death, the screaming and fire that surrounds us, it isn’t until we turn onto a wide, main road that when I truly believe we might be fucked. Other side streets and alleyways are barricaded, whether by the enemy or the angels I don’t know, but there is no other way but to pass into the carnage that’s erupted on the road marked with a simple sign.Spes Aeterna.
Everlasting Hope.
But there is no hope here.
The road is slick with blood. Nephilim fight with savage grace against the angels trying to hold them off from progressing closer to the ziggurat, and even through the flames I can see that this is a straight line to the structure. The dead are everywhere, enemies,anunnaki, even souls, their weapons still clutched in their hands, their unseeing eyes unblinking. We’re sucked into the battle as though swept away by an unforgiving, relentless tide. There are bursts of flame as incendiaries are thrown from Nephilim hiding in shadows or crouching on the tops of buildings. Angels fly overhead, trying to subdue them, some falling from the night sky as they’re struck down by balls of flame.
I fight forward through the chaos, the shining eye of the ziggurat like a lure in a raging sea. I kill and maim my way deeper into the street, inch by bloody inch. I lose sight of Ashen and Eryx, but we shout to one another to keep contact. Sometimes they’re closer, sometimes further away. Sometimes I hear them yell instructions to the other angels who battle at our side. All too often, I hear one of our new companions fall in the battle, the scent of sickly-sweet blood heating the debris on the cobblestones.
I end up stalled behind Ashen and Eryx as I get caught up between fire and fighting next to a little bakery. The scent of bread mingles with the death on the road. I cut down the Nephilim delaying my progress and my sword is still carving an arc through the air when a sudden heat warms my belly. For an instant shorter than a heartbeat, I remember the battle with Ashen when we first met, the warmth of his hand on my stomach as he pulled me from the fight.
All right, vampire?
The next instant, I’m gasping for breath, lying on the cobbles, my belly burning with heat. It’s not until instinct takes over and I’m patting down the flames that I realize I’ve been hit with an incendiary. A cry of panic escapes past my lips as memories of burning at the stake surge to the forefront of my mind. I manage to push them down as I extinguish the fire burning the accelerant that coats my heating armor, but my moment of distraction has cost me.
A Nephilim strides forward through the flames on the road. He swings a mace above his head. I can’t see his face behind his golden mask, but I know his eyes are fused to mine. And I know there’s no way I get out of his path in time.
He’s bringing the mace toward me when it suddenly slips from his hand. He lurches to a halt. A collar of glowing glyphs clamps around the Nephilim’s throat.
No, not a collar.
Tattoos.
My husband’s hand.
The enemy chokes a desperate breath. His feet lift from the ground. His mask is torn from his head and falls through the flame to the cobblestone road. Ashen’s face comes into view next to the man’s wide, bloodshot eyes, the tiny blood vessels within their white surface bursting from the pressure of the Reaper’s unrelenting grip.
“Mine,” Ashen growls into his ear.
Ashen’s fingers sink into his skin, his other hand clamping around the enemy’s chin. The Nephilim’s scream is lost in a gurgling rush. With a roar of rage and restitution, Ashen wrenches the man’s head backward and strips a section of his spine free, blood and torn flesh surging across the space between us, its thick heat dousing the nearest flame. He tosses the head aside with a wet thud, his other fist trembling around the bloodied column of bone.
