Free Her Black Wings (The Dark Amulet Series Book 1) by A.J. Norris Page A

with each tap until the invasion ended.
    Aza’zel’s discombobulated legs carried him away.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER
    TWENTY-SEVEN
     
     
    Elliott
     
    Elliott was unstoppable. His feet and body found a renewed energy. He ran across the footpaths in the direction the goat demon had told him. The ceiling above him reached a hundred feet high, plenty of room for flight. The loss of his wings poked a hole in his chest and felt like a brand he’d always wear. On either side of him were pits of burning lava. The sooty ground radiated fiery temperatures and the heat scorched the soles of his bare feet. He didn’t care.
    The first problem with this escape attempt presented itself. At the far side of the large cavern he came to a set of tunnels and six choices. Aza’zel had told him he would know which path to take. Elliott had not questioned him further. What the hell was so obvious? The angel didn’t want to waste any more time, so he started down the second tunnel from the left. He ran for so long, the line of torches which lit the path ended and he was forced to slow down so he could feel whatever may jump out in front of him. Step after step he moved along a bend. On the other side of the curve he saw more of the same dark passageway. He walked almost as far as before the curve, until he spotted something.
    An orange light glowed up ahead. Hours, maybe days wasted. He was right back where he started from; the large cavern. He emerged from the tunnel next to the one he’d entered. Frustrated he jogged away from the passages to get a better look. He analyzed the remaining routes. The first tunnel on the left he decided was too easy. The second and third were out. Skipping over four and five, he focused on number six.
    The entrance to the tunnel all the way on the right was partially obstructed by large stones. It looked like relics of a wall built to block the passage and crumbled long ago. This had to be it. And that bastard Aza’zel had better be right about the way out.
    Elliott approached the entrance. The height of the wall was deceptive from a distance. As it turned out, he was a great climber, scaling the barrier without difficulty. However, when he lowered himself down the other side…it was a different story.
    He thought the tunnel would be like the last one, well-lit for a portion and level. There wasn’t a tunnel on the other side, but a cavernous space. A sea of roughly the same size stones lay on the ground. He squinted into the dim cavern, trying to see if there was an end to the rocks. There were small fires lit above his head, although they offered little illumination. For several feet in front of him, he stepped over the rocks, then the layer of stones thickened. He really wished he had on a pair of shoes.
    Crunch.
    “Ow…!”
    Crunch .
    “Ouch! Mother…”
    He paused. What the Hell am I stepping on? He took another step.
    Crunch.
    “Goddammit!”
    Bending down he palmed one of the rocks and brought it up close to his face for a better look.
    “Ehhh!” He let the thing drop and rubbed his hand on his jeans. They weren’t rocks at all. He did a whole body shudder.
    Putting on a stone face he soldiered onward. Carefully, with each step he took, he tested for sharp edges before putting his weight down. His skin crawled.
    Skulls, rotted brittle-ass skulls.
    Like this was a surprise, he was in Hell. He marched, counting his steps.
    Finally, the human remains thinned. A wisp of air blew his hair around. The breeze was hot across the back of his neck.
    What the…?
    A shadow appeared on the wall. When he waved a hand to test the theory that it was his own, the shadow didn’t wave back. He twisted to look behind him; no one was there. Now that he was clear of the skulls and bone fragments he started running. The shadow ran too. A whisper next to his ear made him flinch. He swatted the space next his head. More shadows joined the first, more whispers. His heart raced and his breathing