Read Online URIEL: The Price (The Airel Saga, Book 6) (Young Adult Paranormal Romance) by Aaron Patterson, Chris White - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Aaron Patterson, Chris White
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below them to a clearing where his officer pointed. Indeed, there it was, tentacles slashing out in a large radius, its head as big as three chariots side by side—a beast from the depths of the sea, sickly pink, glistening, terrible. Beneath the monster sprung up foamy fountains of seawater, lifting his men from their feet, drowning horses, and tilting the battle in favor of the sea gods. Piankhy now felt for the first time in his life the tangible seizure of terror. It was a stricture about his throat. His eyes began to water as he said, “Are there more?”
The lieutenant replied, “Yes, my general. Many.”
* * *
URIEL COULD NOT KNOW it as she involuntarily spread every molecule of her power throughout the substrata, but there would be unintended consequences for what was happening. She did not know what had manifested in her son, Qiel, how potent his gift was—especially when motivated by fear and revenge.
She did not know, for instance, that her son had drawn near, that he was close to losing control. But even if she had known it, there was nothing she could have done to prevent what happened; she was a puppet on a string. This she would nevertheless lament in the centuries to come and blame herself above all others—if Ke’elei were to fall, the powers of darkness would need to conjure up the perfect storm. She helped to provide it.
She wouldn’t have called it liquefaction as scientists in the 20th century would do, but in this case, a name for the phenomenon was irrelevant, semantics. Combined with what Qiel was capable of doing, what he was indeed now doing above ground—calling the seas up from the depths of the earth, those immense gates El had opened in the Great Flood—Ke’elei’s destruction was imminent.
In short, her power to dissemble was hijacked by the overwhelming power of the Bloodstone. When she had taken herself apart and blended with the Stone in her attempt to steal it, the damage was total and immediate. She became an automaton, a slave. And the stone held the bit, the bridle, and the whip.
The moment had arrived.
She had deployed herself in a radius of several leagues in the bedrock under the city. Now with a single thought, she triggered her power, and every particle of earth she touched came unglued. As gravity called the mass downward like sand in an hourglass, Qiel called the sea upward from below.
It would create a sinkhole leagues across, and it would devour every man, angel, and demon within reach of its jaws.
* * *
ABOVE GROUND, URIEL MOVED as a shadow. She could feel the ground begin to tremble underfoot. The Brotherhood’s main force had breached the city wall in three places, not the least of which was the main gate. The barbican was now engulfed in flames. Demons flew, dropped from the sky, and took the city from above. The angelic army was growing weak and would soon be overcome.
Uriel heard the rushing of water but paid no mind. She had one task remaining, and than she knew the Bloodstone would cast her aside like so much trash. She had never felt so conflicted before. The last thing she had to do was the last thing she wanted to do.
Yamanu. Teacher of the shadowing arts. He stood not far off, leaning against an archway, breathing in ragged gulps, his back heaving with many sorrows. He was weeping. He no doubt wept for the fall of the City of Refuge, for the loss of so many of his kind, for Anael’s heartless betrayal—one compounded, no doubt, into many over the centuries, given what she knew of him.
Uriel could feel Zedkiel’s sword in her hand as she approached her uncle to take his life. She could feel a tear escape and roll down her smoke-smudged cheek as she understood what she was going to be forced to do.
* * *
QIEL DESCENDED FROM THE heights to the city, having opened the floodgates upon the Brotherhood. Ancient ones—creatures that would live on only in later man’s fairy tales as dragons, dinosaurs, and monsters—now stalked the forests. The
The lieutenant replied, “Yes, my general. Many.”
* * *
URIEL COULD NOT KNOW it as she involuntarily spread every molecule of her power throughout the substrata, but there would be unintended consequences for what was happening. She did not know what had manifested in her son, Qiel, how potent his gift was—especially when motivated by fear and revenge.
She did not know, for instance, that her son had drawn near, that he was close to losing control. But even if she had known it, there was nothing she could have done to prevent what happened; she was a puppet on a string. This she would nevertheless lament in the centuries to come and blame herself above all others—if Ke’elei were to fall, the powers of darkness would need to conjure up the perfect storm. She helped to provide it.
She wouldn’t have called it liquefaction as scientists in the 20th century would do, but in this case, a name for the phenomenon was irrelevant, semantics. Combined with what Qiel was capable of doing, what he was indeed now doing above ground—calling the seas up from the depths of the earth, those immense gates El had opened in the Great Flood—Ke’elei’s destruction was imminent.
In short, her power to dissemble was hijacked by the overwhelming power of the Bloodstone. When she had taken herself apart and blended with the Stone in her attempt to steal it, the damage was total and immediate. She became an automaton, a slave. And the stone held the bit, the bridle, and the whip.
The moment had arrived.
She had deployed herself in a radius of several leagues in the bedrock under the city. Now with a single thought, she triggered her power, and every particle of earth she touched came unglued. As gravity called the mass downward like sand in an hourglass, Qiel called the sea upward from below.
It would create a sinkhole leagues across, and it would devour every man, angel, and demon within reach of its jaws.
* * *
ABOVE GROUND, URIEL MOVED as a shadow. She could feel the ground begin to tremble underfoot. The Brotherhood’s main force had breached the city wall in three places, not the least of which was the main gate. The barbican was now engulfed in flames. Demons flew, dropped from the sky, and took the city from above. The angelic army was growing weak and would soon be overcome.
Uriel heard the rushing of water but paid no mind. She had one task remaining, and than she knew the Bloodstone would cast her aside like so much trash. She had never felt so conflicted before. The last thing she had to do was the last thing she wanted to do.
Yamanu. Teacher of the shadowing arts. He stood not far off, leaning against an archway, breathing in ragged gulps, his back heaving with many sorrows. He was weeping. He no doubt wept for the fall of the City of Refuge, for the loss of so many of his kind, for Anael’s heartless betrayal—one compounded, no doubt, into many over the centuries, given what she knew of him.
Uriel could feel Zedkiel’s sword in her hand as she approached her uncle to take his life. She could feel a tear escape and roll down her smoke-smudged cheek as she understood what she was going to be forced to do.
* * *
QIEL DESCENDED FROM THE heights to the city, having opened the floodgates upon the Brotherhood. Ancient ones—creatures that would live on only in later man’s fairy tales as dragons, dinosaurs, and monsters—now stalked the forests. The
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