Текст книги "Horns of Wicked Ebony"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 37 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

55

Agust of wind rustled the branches of the evergreens overhead, like the trees were whispering warnings. I prowled forward, using the sound to mask my footsteps. Flake after flake of snow dusted across my cheeks, and I clenched my teeth to avoid chattering them. Around me, the Deathveiled slipped forward, hugging the thick trunks and easing over large rocks. The scrub in this section made navigating the terrain difficult, and many snaked their shadows through the tangles to hold them wide enough to pass through without creating a clamor.

This was the farthest we’d ventured from the outpost for a raid, and with clouds cloaking the moon, we had the advantage. Though it was a risk to be so close to the Angel’s camp with so few of us. On my one side, Uzadaan and Zurronar held close, tasked by Rokath with protecting me at all costs, while he led part of the unit from a different direction.

“We’re almost there,” my mate spoke down our mental connection.

I held up my fist, and everyone with me halted. I crept closer to Uzadaan and Zurronar, lowering my voice. “We wait for Rokath’s signal to enter the camp. Then we find the Padisa.”

“Banand swore Araquiel wasn’t lying about where she’d be. I’m not worried,” Zurronar whispered.

“She’s a Sensor,” I reiterated, my stomach churning anyway. Araquiel had given up the name and location of a top Padisa with direct ties to Zahal Ishim. The plan was to capture her and bring her with us to the outpost. One, so that I could impersonate her in the future. Second, so that Rokath could anger the Angel’s leader further and force a meeting. The psychological warfare we’d been waging already had a vise-like grip over our enemies and sowed chaos like they were seeds during the harvest.

“But he opened up their mental connection and searched her mind,” Zurronar protested. Out of everyone involved in this situation, he seemed to be the one who was most okay with it happening.

“You don’t think the Halálhívó knows everything that goes on in my mind, right?” I snapped. “Now quiet, we need to listen for the signal.”

With a grumble, the three of us faced forward, creeping toward a large bush and peering through it. A twig snapped behind us, and I whipped my head around, heart stilling when I saw it was only Izzenna, the ruby-eyed Nightmare creator, and not a group of Angels that had snuck up on us.

“Sorry,” she mouthed. Beside her, Vokkia, the cherry-eyed Destructor, picked her way forward more carefully. Maariya had continued on with Rapp and Kiira to the outpost closest to Uzhhorod.

I was grateful the two had chosen to remain with me. They closed in quickly, joining our huddle. The five of us tucked close, trying to remain unnoticed.

Firelight flickered in the distance, and only a few Angels wandered the fringes at the late hour. Much like when we’d rescued Banand and Zurronar, we were going to cause a distraction, diverting everyone away from the true target.

Minutes passed, and heat dripped down my spine. My legs trembled from the effort of holding our position.

Where the fuck is Rokath?

The thought had no sooner crossed my mind before the first shout sliced through the stillness. I counted to thirty, each number enunciated, hoping that the volume would rise. When a large, armed group raced by, I knew it was time.

Dipping my eyes closed, I dove into my magic well, bringing the twister of onyx over my frame and becoming the Myrza. In seconds, I was taller, broader, and male. “Let’s go,” I ordered in Demonic. At least now, most of the unit was accustomed to the language coming out of his mouth.

We stalked forward, scanning the area for sentries. Since I’d supposedly switched sides, I crafted brown leather armor, which helped me blend in, versus the pristine white boasted by the Angels.

No one remained to cover these woods. Quickening our pace, we penetrated the camp, steering for the rear portion where the Padisa would supposedly oversee all of her section. Finding the striped tent was easy when it was surrounded by fire and pressed against a rocky outcropping.

Smart, so no one could sneak up from behind. Foolish, because she’d be easier to pin and drag back with us.

We ducked into an alley, only to collide with a group of five Angels. Half-dressed, weapons in hand, they looked like they’d been roused from sleep and were on their way to Rokath’s diversion. Uzadaan and Zurronar sprang into action, flinging their arms forward and pinching their fingers together. All five froze in place, their blood unmoving. Izzenna and Vokkia lunged past the males, bronze blades slicing across their throats. They eased each body to the ground without a sound.

We hushed along, the flames flickering as we closed in on the Padisa’s location. Hurried Angelic burst from behind the flaps. I tried to count how many voices there were, but with the frantic tones and people talking over one another, it was difficult.

“At least four,” I muttered under my breath.

Once again, Uzadaan and Zurronar called upon their magic. Ebony strands of power snaked beneath the fabric, seeking out those inside. I held my breath. If the Angels noticed the encroaching darkness, we’d never capture the Padisa.

“They’re frozen,” Uzadaan announced.

My chest loosened. We couldn’t kill them all without laying eyes on them first.

The two moved in tandem, pulling open the entrance while maintaining their holds. Izzenna, Vokkia, and I hurried inside, the females shoving the bodies around while I stalked toward the officer and drew my sword.

With a huff, Uzadaan and Zurronar released their magic before they accidentally killed someone from lack of blood flow.

“You’re coming with me,” I told her in Angelic, grabbing her arm and hauling her forward.

She thrashed, and I tightened my grip. My sword swept to her stomach as an added incentive. The Padisa went still, a hand resting at her side while the other remained on my wrist. “So the rumors are true.”

“They are,” I stated simply. The females slit the throats of those still watching, while Zurronar gutted one, leaving him partially alive. At least long enough to report what we’d done.

As I marched her forward again, she twisted, and pain burned in my arm. “Fuck!” I swore in Demonic without thinking. But that wasn’t my worst mistake. No, it was the silver dagger biting into my arm.

Panic ravaged my ribs. Pain seared my skin. My form flickered, the pale color of the Myrza replaced with the dark tan of my body.

With a shriek, I released the Padisa. Dropping the hilt, I yanked out the weapon and shucked it across the tent.

My magic quivered. I blinked in and out of height as she bolted. Uzadaan tackled her, crashing to the ground and skidding with his momentum.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Rokath shot down our bond.

“Fine,” I ground back. The wound was manageable and not life threatening. “Someone kill him,” I snapped, pointing to the one we’d intentionally left alive. “Can’t have him telling everyone the Myrza isn’t actually alive.”

Vokkia slaughtered him without hesitation.

That one hit of silver had gulped a solid portion of my well. Anxiety spiked as I struggled to create the form over myself again. “We need to make more of a scene now,” I instructed, my mind working at a sprint, fueled by the fear I couldn’t wield my magic. That I was powerless in the midst of our enemies. “Gag her first so she can’t say anything. Oh and check her back for a mate mark.”

Uzadaan and Zurronar held her arms while Izzenna ripped her tunic open, finding the skin bare, but a few hidden sheaths. Izzenna snatched them all from the Angel.

“You will fucking die for this,” the Padisa hissed at everyone. Her lapis eyes glittered with hatred.

“No, that will be you,” I bit out. “Unless you join our cause. But that’s a discussion for later. Let’s go.”

The males hauled her upright, using a torn bit of her tunic as a gag. She writhed, a muffled scream shredding her throat. Her long white hair tangled in a thrash of limbs. “Can I knock her out?” Uzadaan threw over his shoulder in Demonic.

“Once we get into the woods.” Chaos clawed through the camp, and somewhere, a fire spit smoke into the night. Any who passed by us were either killed or left clinging to life.

“We’re almost out,” I relayed to Rokath.

I received a grunt in response. Once the shadowed trees enveloped us again, I gave the males permission to silence the Padisa. Uzadaan threw her over his shoulder and marched on, focused on his task while I scanned our rear with Izzenna and Vokkia, ensuring no one was following us.

“Quickly now,” I encouraged, seeing no flashes of white. We had an agreed upon rendezvous point, and I wanted to reach it before Rokath’s group simply because my magic was already waning.

Sweat beaded my brow as I pressed on. Legs burned from the uphill climb. Air scraped down my throat like shattered glass.

“Szélhámos, are you alright?” Izzenna asked me, slowing her pace.

“Fine,” I panted out. But I was quickly realizing that I was not, in fact, fine. Dizziness overtook me, and I stumbled, rocks slicing into my palm.

At least I was making an offering to the Fates for a successful mission where no one died.

Izzenna and Vokkia caught my arms and hauled me up the remainder of the hill. “Maybe you should let your magic go now? So you don’t burn out?” Izzenna suggested, helping me sit on a rock. With a well as deep as mine, that was nearly impossible, but I didn’t have the energy to correct her.

The males had paused, and Zurronar’s face was pale as he examined me.

“Let it go,” he murmured, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got you.”

I did, mostly because I thought I was going to be sick. Zurronar grabbed my shoulder, sucking in a sharp breath. “We need to get you back immediately.”

“Why?” I asked, but then bile rose. Gagging, I turned to the side, retching over a bed of moss. Vokkia rubbed soothing circles on my back until I came up for air again.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, blinking through blurred vision. Rokath burst through the treeline, blood-slicked, with death in his eyes.

Behind him, the Deathveiled tore through the underbrush. All of them. I breathed another sigh of relief.

“What the fuck?” he growled, racing to my side. He bared his sharp teeth at Uzadaan and Zurronar. “Who let this happen.” It was less of a question and more of a demand for information that would certainly end in one of their deaths.

“Mine,” I wheezed, my chest growing tight. I clutched it, and then, Rokath noticed the dark blood on my own.

“The Padisa stabbed her. The blade must have been coated in a poison. It’s what they injected me with shortly before you saved me,” Zurronar explained, hovering close like he would save me.

He was an honorable male, just like his brother.

A snarl tore from Rokath’s throat, and he whipped back to the camp. Fury took form in my mate. The rage that poured down our bond nearly ripped it apart. The savage beneath the surface exploded, burning me from the inside.

There was no mercy. No diplomacy. Only lust for blood.

“I should end every last life in their camp now.”

“Maybe save mine first?” I suggested, the world spinning around me. I tried to stand, to get his attention, but I pitched to the side.

A roar—Rokath’s?—shattered the night. My vision tunneled to a pinprick. I wasn’t afraid of the dark. But I was afraid of leaving my mate behind without me.

Shadow. Silence. Surrender.

Nothing but a void.

OceanofPDF.com

56

Assyria’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, body collapsing inward. Leaping forward, I caught her inches from the ground. Her frame, so small in my arms, felt like a dying ember. The weight of her limp body twisted a knife between my ribs. Terror blistered my blood, black and thick like pitch.

Why did this female continue to take poison and venom like it was nothing? When I fucking saved her life again, I was going to shake the foolishness out of her. After I fucked her so hard that she knew nothing other than my name.

“Get everyone back safely and you’ll have earned your rank,” I snapped at Zurronar. Without waiting for a response, I yanked my membranous black wings into existence. Air resisted me as I speared through it, clipping the treetops and begging the wind at my back to aid my desperate flight.

“You will not die on me,” I growled down our bond. She was unconscious, but even in that state she would fucking hear me and she would fucking obey for once in her life.

I refused to believe otherwise.

A cough rattled her chest, and I clutched her to me, trying to keep her warm. Crystals solidified on my metal armor, the cold and the altitude lacing a deadly combination.

Faster, Rokath, faster.

I flew like fury made flesh, my only focus on what lay ahead. Everything behind me didn’t matter. Only Assyria’s breath. Her pulse. Her sharp tongue that shredded me to ribbons.

Flapping my wings, I clawed for every bit of distance. The embers dotting the outpost crackled into full blown flames. Assyria trembled as death licked her skin.

I slowed my pace, preparing to land. My feet thudded against the roof of the second building where the healers were located. Pounded a staccato rhythm as I neared the edge and leaped to the exterior landing. With my heavy boot, I banged on the door. A female—still dressed in wool sleeping attire—appeared in the crack. Her eyes went wide as she beheld us.

“Halálhívó!” she exclaimed, throwing it wide and allowing us entrance. She shouted for assistance while directing me to place Assyria on a table. “What happened?”

The former priestess yanked bottles from shelves, instruments from drawers, and gathered clean cloths onto a tray.

Hooking my fingers beneath the metal, I eased Assyria’s helmet over her head. She needed an antidote, or more, and the slim cutout down the center of the metal wasn’t enough to reach her mouth.

Flakes of half-digested food clung to the edges. I’d clean it later, once I knew she would live. “The Angels stabbed her with some sort of poison-coated weapon. A soldier we rescued initially came in with the same ailment.”

The doorway filled with a line of bodies. One of the healers that had been there when we’d brought Zurronar home shimmied through the crowd and studied my mate. He offered rapid-fire instruction to the others, then conversed with the female who had awoken first.

I forced myself to take a step back and let them work. The bond shrieked at me for daring to put space between my mate and me while she was injured, weak, vulnerable. I gritted my teeth, fingers biting into the metal I’d had crafted for her.

Zurronar had recovered quickly, unlike Rapp, and the sooner they could give her an antidote or whatever the fuck, the sooner I could take her to bed and hold her.

That didn’t stop my feral pacing or the sharp attention I paid to their movements.

Someone tipped a vial into her mouth—pium, from the green color of it. I nearly laughed. It was probably unnecessary, but she was my mate, and they weren’t going to let her die. They were going to throw everything at this to save her.

Minutes that felt like hours passed before her lashes fluttered over her cheekbones. With a gasp, she bolted upright, those devious burgundy eyes seeking me out. A few healers sighed. Others slumped against the nearest object. Probably because now they knew they’d all live.

“Assyria,” I breathed, snatching her to me. The snake binding my chest slithered away, leaving room for air to expand my lungs.

She let out a hacking snicker.

“This is not funny,” I snapped at her. “You do not get to laugh when I almost lost you.”

That only served to amuse her more. “Yes it is and yes I do.”

“You almost died. Again.” The violence in my tone had everyone else in the room taking a healthy step back.

“The Fates enjoy fucking with me. I’ve escaped death more times than I can count now,” she giggled. I pressed the back of my palm to her forehead, finding it sweaty and feverish.

“She’s delirious,” I pronounced. “She needs her temperature down.”

“We know, Halálhívó. If you’ll allow us to keep working,” the female healer said, wringing her hands.

“I’ll stay right here,” I informed her. She nodded and then gestured for the rest to join her.

“I’m not delirious,” Assyria protested. I gripped her shoulders as they cleaned the wound on her arm, which, thankfully, wasn’t too deep. She hissed as they poured pure alcohol on it. She whimpered as they dug a needle into her skin to stitch it closed.

“This is so much worse than when you branded me,” she pouted. A few pairs of eyes flicked in our direction.

“Keep fucking working,” I snarled back. They wisely refocused on their tasks. With a fire going, salt slicked my skin and dripped down my temples. I risked a moment of releasing Assyria to yank my helmet off my head. It joined my mate’s at my feet.

Tension eased from postures around me.

Good to know its intended effect works on them too.

Assyria sagged into me as the healer tied off her stitches. The crease of pain in her brow was absent, and those bow shaped lips were slightly parted. Fatigue washed down our bond.

Once her arm was wrapped in a white bandage, the female healer declared there was nothing more they could do and that her fever would break sometime in the night.

“You’ll come check on her first thing,” I commanded, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“Certainly, Halálhívó,” she promised. And with that, plus a few potions, I departed, Assyria in my arms. By the time we landed at the primary building, the rest of the Deathveiled had returned.

“Oh, thank the Fates,” Zurronar swore when he saw Assyria was still alive. Her other protectors seemed equally relieved, especially the two females.

“Without her, I don’t know that we would have been able to stay,” Izzenna murmured, looking at her like she was a fallen Fate.

“You would have. She’s not the only reason these changes are happening,” I replied, my brows pinching. These females were useful, and they’d proven themselves worthy of the challenge over and over again.

Vokkia eyed me with a hint of suspicion. “Before her, we were only useful as priestesses or mothers. Because she fought for us, she gave us another purpose. She is our symbol of hope.”

Had Assyria been conscious, she would have burst into tears. This was what she had always wanted—maybe not to be so venerated, but for the females to feel free. For once, I welcomed that emotion for her. Allowed myself to feel the pride in what we had built together.

I cleared my throat. “Good work tonight. Rest up and tomorrow we’ll see what kind of damage we caused.”

Wicked grins split many of their faces.

“What do you want me to do with her?” Uzadaan asked, hefting the Padisa higher on his shoulder. Thankfully, she was still unconscious.

“Secure her in a cell away from the rest. Don’t want them giving her any ideas,” I said. I’d deal with her in the morning. At least Araquiel had spoken true, despite the fact Assyria was currently injured and feverish.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, taking to the air and sailing downhill.

Zurronar, Izzenna, and Vokkia lingered for a moment longer, their concern for my mate etched into their expressions. “She’ll be alright,” I told them. Like I didn’t need that reassurance for my fucking self.

“Yes, Halálhívó,” Vokkia murmured, ducking her head. She linked arms with Izzenna and the two strode down the stairs to the bottom level where their bunks waited.

Zurronar shifted from foot to foot.

“Yes, soldier?” Irritation nipped at my nerves. All I wanted was for Assyria to rest, and these delays were not helping that.

“I wanted to apologize, Halálhívó. I should have protected her better. I didn’t see the Padisa’s dagger until it was too late. I understand if you don’t want to offer me the title of Parancsok now.”

A tumultuous mix of rage and regret tumbled in my gut.

His brother had died protecting my mate. Here he was, despite that, ready to give his life for her too. But more than that, a glimmer of my younger self reflected back at me. The guilt. The self-loathing. The what ifs.

“You have earned it, Zurronar. Now rest. We’ll speak tomorrow.”

He nodded, offering me a firm salute, and sailed off after Uzadaan.

I dragged in a breath, the chill searing my throat. Then, I shoved open the door and entered the officer’s floor. It was emptier without Rapp and Kiira here.

Shaking thoughts of my best friend and my cousin off, I settled my obstinate mate into our bed. A small noise of protest slipped out of her as I retreated. But she sighed and scooted into her pillow. I went to the attached bathing chamber and cleansed myself of blood. When I rejoined her, she was curled on her side, breathing even. Her skin didn’t burn as I lifted the blankets and settled them over us.

She stirred and flipped to face me. “You saved me. My hero.” Her tone was light, teasing, and made me grit my teeth.

“I told you during our first meeting, little imposter, that I am no hero. I am decidedly the villain.”

She snorted and walked her fingers up my chest. The pale wrap flitted in the edges of my vision.

“Did you not ensure the Padisa was unarmed?” I gritted out, snatching her arm.

She huffed, blowing hair out of her face with the same breath. “It was late at night. She didn’t appear to have any weapons.”

“Assumptions kill,” I admonished. “You have to disarm someone before you grab them. Otherwise, one wrong move and this will happen again.”

Her brows pinched. “Can you not right now? My head hurts.”

“No.” I pulled her flush against me, her breath hitching. “It is my duty to ensure you are capable of surviving when I am not by your side. I cannot lose you. Now tell me what you will do the next time you are capturing an Angel.”

“I’ll remove all their weapons and pierce them with bronze so they can’t use their magic too,” she sighed, forehead dropping.

I released her arm at last. “Good girl. We’ll train it more specifically tomorrow.”

With a groan, she flipped over and pressed her back into me. “Fine. Now fuck off so I can sleep. My head is killing me.”

I pressed my lips to her soft temple, inhaling her garden-like scent. She’d lived through another tenuous mission. But how many more times would the Fates allow it? How many more times could I allow her to wander away from me?

Guilt clawed at my stomach at the thought. I’d empowered her all this time, but I was weak—so fucking weak—when it came to her. So I draped myself around her like I could fasten her to my side. Because when we woke, I wasn’t sure I could let her go.

OceanofPDF.com