Broken, p.28
Broken, page 28
part #3 of The Divine Series
Inside, the Beast stopped.
The power kept growing, beginning to arc from the Box and swirl around us, catching us all in a maelstrom of energy.
“Get in the Box,” she ordered.
The Beast reached forward and put his hand on the Box, and vanished.
He was in there. I knew it, because I could feel the change around us immediately. I heard shouting and confusion from the people outside. I felt the flames of the rift burst into existence behind us. Sarah held the Box, the power condensing on it, the Templar script glowing and flowing like the river of power that had contained the Beast once before.
Still she poured more into it.
“It isn’t enough,” she said. “Landon, it isn’t enough.”
I could feel it through her. Our power was almost used up. Hers was nearly gone. The Box was beginning to heat up and crack.
“You know what you have to do,” Dante said, coming up next to us. He had been released when the Beast had gone in.
I did know, but I didn’t want to just accept it. I had heard firsthand what had happened before. I knew that it would be forever. How could I do that? How could I just give everything for everyone else, and leave nothing for me? I was a nice guy, but I wasn’t that nice.
“You won’t be alone,” Charis said. “Landon, we have to.”
The Box continued to get warmer, the cracks spreading.
“Landon!” Sarah cried.
Why couldn’t I have just died, that day in the museum? Nothing that had happened since was worth this moment, and what I knew would come. Having Charis didn’t make it better, it made it worse. She would be subjected to the same fate.
“Find a way,” I said to Dante, taking hold of Sarah just long enough to speak to him. “Find a way to end this, forever. Just hiding the Box is too big of a risk. One day it will be found. It has to be over.”
“I will, signore.”
“Sarah, stay strong. Your fate is your own, no matter what anyone says.”
“I will, brother.”
I found Charis then, in Sarah’s soul. She materialized in front of me, her nude form perfect in its radiance. She had tears in her eyes, and I’m sure I did too.
“I love you,” I said. I didn’t think I needed to say it, but I did anyway.
“I know,” she replied. She didn’t need to say it either.
I took her hand, and we stepped into the flood.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I saw it all, in a fog of emotions that made it hard to find the truth behind them. I watched him touch the box and disappear, after I took the weak, mortal form and used it to defy him. After I surprised the demon and pulled him away, giving them the precious seconds they needed. The other one had fled when he went in, his own power diminished by losing his master. He had taken his toy with him.
I saw it all. The Outcast approaching the girl, Sarah. Her words to him, not the girl’s words but his. I knew what he was going to do. I knew what he had to do, for another had done it before. The Box had flashed in a vaporous blue light, the cracks had sealed, and she had been stricken with such grief, she had let it fall to the floor. It landed, bounced a few times, and sat alone in the darkness.
She had looked around then, confused, lost, and scared. The Outcast tried to speak to her, but she screeched at him and clawed at his face until he backed away, and vanished. She thought she was alone, but then other mortals started entering the building, confused, looking for answers. She had snatched up the Box and ran, pushing through them. Where was she headed?
The Were had fallen to the Beast’s power, but the Beast was gone, and now he woke. The mortals wouldn’t remember him. He put his nose to the air, found the scent, and gave chase.
I don’t know how it had come to this. I don’t know where most of these emotions had been born. I could remember pain, and sadness, and anger, and desperation. I could remember bright, white light, and finding myself outside of my body, floating in the ether, a consciousness without form. I could recall the change, the shift, the lust turning to love, the anger turning to compassion. I didn’t understand it, and I still couldn’t, yet I felt its compulsion all the same.
Landon had been there, crouched over the Outcast, along with another like him, and Sarah. He had looked towards me, with pain in his eyes. I had tried to go to him, but I felt like I was floating, not running. I had flowed in his direction, but there was no recognition in his eyes. They looked right through me. He couldn’t see.
I was caught in the energy. I could feel it running through me. I could see the colors of it, the power of Purgatory, power that knew only one owner, that could only have ever responded to one. It was a power I hadn’t understood, but it moved through me as though I were no more than energy myself. It swirled around me, and then I was somewhere else. A field. They were still there.
Every part of me wanted to cry out, to tell him I was there, and that I loved him. I knew I couldn’t. I also knew my love had been no love at all. Lust, desire, and hunger, but not love. Before, there had been no other meaning to the word. Now, it was all clear. I could feel His touch, somehow. I could feel His warmth. How could that be?
I watched him go, into the house with Sarah and the one I had known as the Demon Queen. I didn’t follow. There was so much between us. So much I had done that couldn’t be undone. If He willed it, one day I would have the chance to apologize. For now, if I were to care for him, I could protect him. But how?
I stayed the night, right outside the house. I was there when the Beast arrived. I tried to stop him, but I had nothing in this form. Nothing but thought, emotion, and vision. I couldn’t touch him, or hurt him. He didn’t even know I was there. None of them did.
It wasn’t until we reached Florence that I discovered I could gain physical form only through a mortal shell. Landon was being attacked, and I was desperate to help him. It was that emotion that drove me to a man sitting at a restaurant table. I felt my energy passing through him, and then I saw the light of his soul. I took hold of it, wrapped that desperation around it, and then I was looking through his eyes.
Mortals are weak, and they are slow. They are easily tired, easily destroyed. Their muscles are limited, a large majority of their bodies out of shape. In the past, I had held disdain for them. They were good only as a food source for the superior race. Now, even with those limitations, I found myself intrigued. I could see the man’s memories. I could feel his emotions. I found respect for their complexity, and understanding for their plight. Maybe I knew Landon in a new way, then. Maybe I cared for him more. Either way, I had used the form to tackle one of the weres that chased him. It wasn’t much, and the demon had killed my host with little effort, but it had slowed him down.
From there on, I had followed, always with him, or a step behind. I had seen the Beast’s ambush on the train. I had pulled the brakes and stopped them short, giving him as much warning as I could. Being limited to controlling of mortals was difficult, for they rightly ran away from the Divine.
Then, in the depths of a warehouse in Japan, I had found my chance, my own true opportunity to try to reveal myself to him. To show him I was there where he couldn’t reject me. I had taken the body of the girl, Elyse. I had fought him, with all the strength and fervor the mortal flesh would allow. I had played the role of the daughter well, and as he left I kissed him, hoping it would stir his memories, and open his eyes to my true form.
He barely noticed.
It was the way he looked at her. He had never looked at me that way. There had been lust, his as much as mine, but that was all. It was that lust that I had believed was love, but he never knew me well enough to love me. Just as I didn’t know him well enough to truly love him. Yet, I cared. I cared that I had betrayed him, that I had helped the Beast to escape, that I had caused him pain. I could see in his eyes that he loved her. I could see when they looked at one another that they knew. Even though they never directly showed it or said it. I couldn’t compete with that, and realized I didn’t want to.
To truly cherish something is to do everything in your power to see it reach its greatest potential.
Such thoughts had never been mine before. They’d been lost in a hunger for control, a thirst for power, a desire of flesh and blood. They’d been buried beneath the promises the Beast had made to me, promises that I had fooled myself into believing would come to pass, right up until he plunged the sword into my heart.
That was it, I knew. The sword. It had glowed with white heat, searing my heart. Uncovering the layers of darkness and deceit, pulling them apart like petals on a black rose. Beneath was a heart that could feel, all of the emotions He had given His creations, though they had been twisted by his son’s misunderstanding.
I followed, and I waited. I knew my time would come, my chance would come to make good on my new heart’s desire to atone for my sins, and to save the man who had ignited the first spark of emotion within me.
It was that look. That final look he had given me before we left the prison. Despite what I had done, he still cared. Forgiveness existed, if only I had the strength and will to look for it, and ask for it.
He had given me hope and catalyzed my redemption.
I would be his salvation.
Books By M.R. Forbes
The Divine
Balance (http://amzn.to/10KdkJW)
Betrayal (http://amzn.to/14IqsgC)
Broken
Tears of Blood
His Dark Empire (http://amzn.to/1e0T0tz) (Read the first six chapters at the end of this book)
Thank You!
It is readers like you, who take a chance on self-published works that is what makes the very existence of such works possible. Thank you so very much for spending your hard-earned money, time, and energy on this work. It is my sincerest hope that you have enjoyed reading!
Independent authors could not continue to thrive without your support. If you have enjoyed this, or any other independently published work, please consider taking a moment to leave a review at the source of your purchase. Reviews have an immense impact on the overall commercial success of a given work, and your voice can help shape the future of the people whose efforts you have enjoyed.
Thank you again!
Shark Finning
10% of the royalties earned from sales of the copy of Broken will be donated to Sea Shepherd to help them raise awareness of the practice of shark finning.
Shark finning refers to the removal and retention of shark fins while the remainder of the living shark is discarded in the ocean. Sharks returned to the ocean without their fins are often still alive; unable to move effectively, they sink to the bottom of the ocean and die of suffocation or are eaten by other predators. * Wikipedia
You can read more about shark finning on Wikipedia here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shark_finning
You can read about Sea Shepherd’s efforts to help sharks here:
http://www.seashepherd.org/operation-requiem/
About the Author
M.R. Forbes is a full-time nerd, and a part-time writer of fantasy novels. He’s read at least three books, and has been trying to write them since he was nine. He’s much better at it today than he was when he was nine. At least, that’s what his wife says.
Have something to say? Want to be notified of new releases? Use the links below to make it happen.
Mailing List:
http://bit.ly/XRbZ5n
Website:
http://www.mrforbes.com/site/writing
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/mrforbes.author
Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6912725.M_R_Forbes
Twitter:
http://www.twitter.com/mrforbes
His Dark Empire
They said he was a cruel and unfair man, that he could never die, and that he had ruled over us for as long as anyone could remember. They said that he made slaves of innocents, that he hunted the magically gifted, and that he named them Cursed for the tears of blood they shed. They said he claimed the ones who lingered, and killed the ones who ran.
Eryn didn’t know why she ran, except that she had promised she would survive. She didn’t know the dangers of his roads, or of the monsters that lurked beyond her imagination. She would never have guessed how much she would lose… or how much she could gain.
Silas didn’t know who he was, except that he was a murderer. Destitute, alone, and imprisoned, he couldn’t grasp the depths of the memories he had forgotten, or understand exactly how much he had lost… or how much he could gain.
It could not have been foretold how his actions would change their lives, or how their lives would change the fate of his. For nothing was as it would seem in his dark Empire.
***
Just turn the page to start reading the first six chapters, or check it out on Amazon here: http://amzn.to/1e0T0tz.
The arrow thunked into the broad trunk of the giant redwood, only inches from Aren’s head. It had been close, so close that he could feel the sharp cut of the air around it, and hear the whistle of the feathers passing by. Aren leaned forward and dug his heels harder into the roan’s flanks. The horse gave its all to forge ahead, but it had been born and raised for farming, not outrunning death.
“Come on, Tisha,” he cried, eyes filled with a mixture of sweat and tears. “Please.”
They pounded through the brush, trampling a new path in the dense wood, each smack of Tisha’s hooves leading Aren in a new prayer that the horse wouldn’t find herself stepping on a loose stone, or tripping over a fallen tree branch.
“You never should have run.”
He could hear the voice in the wind, in the air around him, and in his mind. Gathering courage, he decided to chance a look back, to see if he could spot the soldiers chasing him. The glint of sunlight off a metal helm showed him their position. They were gaining.
“We could have helped you, if you hadn’t run.”
Aren swallowed, his throat nearly clenching from the dryness. He heard the thunk of another arrow, and saw the fletching protruding from the redwood to his right. His heart beat a rhythm of panic in his chest, and he did his best to block out the voices surrounding him.
“We could have helped you,” they said. “You have the curse. We would have cared for you.”
“No!” Aren shouted. He dared lift his hands from Tisha’s neck to squeeze them over his head. Except the voices weren’t traveling through his ears. They were everywhere, and they were nowhere, and there was no escaping them.
“You had to run. You had to defy us. It is a waste. Such a waste.”
Aren jerked as Tisha bunched and leaped over a fallen log, causing him to nearly lose his grip. He dropped his hands from his ears and wrapped them tight around her neck again when she landed with a splash, her wild run taking them to a wide, shallow, stream. It was a place far afield from anywhere he had ever ventured before. A place he could die, and never be found.
He counted heartbeats while he waited to hear the echoing splash of the soldier’s chargers. If his heart hadn’t been beating so fast, he might not have even reached five. They were gaining.
Aren heeled into his horse once more. She had never run so hard for so long in all of her fourteen years, and yet somehow she found more energy, more speed, more power in those legs that were muscle hardened to drag a till, not to outrun his soldiers.
The water flew out behind them, hooves finding slippery purchase on the smooth stones below the surface. An arrow hissed by, further off the mark this time, landing in the water a dozen yards ahead. Aren guided Tisha to the right, a sharp hook that moved them perpendicular to the soldiers and brought them into denser brush; brush that was better protection from arrows. The soldier’s heavy chargers couldn’t turn as fast, and he could hear them cursing as they slowed to change direction.
“You should never have run.” The voices returned, forceful in their anger, their sadness, their pity. “We could have helped you. You should never have run.”
“Be quiet,” Aren shouted, his words echoing in the forest, reverberating off the trees and bouncing from ancient glacial stones.
The scream startled Tisha for just an instant, her desire to please her master faltering beneath the loud tone of his words. At a full gallop through heavy foliage, a startled instant was all it took.
He felt the break before he heard it. One step and her gait was smooth, the next, and it was lost. A loud crack created a new echo, replaced again by the combined screams of horse and rider as they were both thrown forward.
Time and direction lost meaning. The world slowed, and Aren watched with fascination as it happened. He saw Tisha begin to drop below him, her newly broken front leg buckling under the weight of their bodies. He saw himself raising higher, the momentum carrying his body upward and outward. He looked upon every branch and leaf in utter detail, every crack and crevice of skin and vein. He thought of her, while he tumbled. He remembered her, and he began to cry.
Time had slowed for Aren, but there was no time for tears. Tisha vanished beneath him, crashing headlong into a moss covered stone, stopping in an instant with a sickening crunch. The stone wasn’t quite wide enough to claim him, though he felt the fire in his shoulder when it struck the immovable object, twisting and twirling him, sending him heels over head. He landed roughly on his back, feeling it too ignite in fire while he gazed up into the density of the forest canopy, searching for the blue sky above.
Laying there, time regained itself. The pain was enough to make him groan, and a single tear dropped from his eye. He heard the snorting of tired horses, slowed to a careful trot in order to navigate past the obstacle that had cost his horse her life. The obstacle that would cost him his.
