Текст книги "Horns of Wicked Ebony"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

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Текущая страница: 41 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

Until the trees shivered like one of the Fates had dropped among them. My blade stilled mid-air. The females closed ranks around Assyria.

From the shadowed abyss of the trunks, a figure emerged.

And grinned like a silver blade gleaming in the dark.

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Zahal Ishim’s low, poisonous laugh scraped against my nerves. Light coiled around him as though he’d stolen it from the heavens. In the darkness, he radiated an ethereal glow. But there was nothing holy in the rapture on his face.

White twisted around two struggling forms, and the air in my throat constricted.

The Zahal’s magic shoved Banand to his knees. Onyx strands battled for control, but they slipped through his fingers like smoke in the wind. Like whatever power Ishim wielded transcendent even that of a plague-creating Demon.

Araquiel stood at Ishim’s side, eyes like polished glass. Her hands were clasped before her, luminous white binding her wrists into a parody of prayer. A puppet knelt at her Zahal’s altar.

A low growl rumbled in Rokath’s chest. Zurronar skidded to a stop beside us, his maroon eyes wide.

“We didn’t betray you!” Banand shouted in Demonic before more magic shoved into his mouth and silenced him. Tears leaked down Araquiel’s face. Yet she didn’t blink, didn’t move.

Banand thrashed against the blinding strands, a scream shredding his throat. The sound was so feral, so helpless, that my own bond twisted in agony. A male watching his mate weep through the prison of her own body. And his magic was unable to free her.

Another male—a Myrza by the looks of his armor—stepped forward, silver blade gleaming with wicked delight as the Zahal’s magic reflected off the polished surface.

“An abomination,” Ishim began, his nose upturned as he looked between the mates. “This type of filth cannot be allowed to live.”

How did he know?

“Ishim isn’t just a zealot like the rest of the Angels. He’s a parasite. His power of the Hive seizes control of living minds and has them act like his own personal puppets. He must have sensed their bond and invaded Araquiel’s mind to capture them,” Rokath growled into my mind.

That was infinitely more fucked up than Rokath calling upon the dead. He was no better than the males of the Demon Realm who stripped their wives and daughters of autonomy. At least we could fight back.

Araquiel could do…nothing.

“You’d kill them both for a blessing from our deities?” I shouted before I could smother the words, rage rising like a firestorm, directed at this self-righteous male. Lust for his blood coiled in my veins. He needed to fucking die before he snatched the will from another living being.

“This is no blessing,” he shot back. “And your allowing them to live after discovering it is further indication as to why you animals must be eradicated from this earth.”

The Myrza raised his blade overhead, preparing to slice into Banand. Without hesitation, I blasted obsidian spears in their direction in a desperate attempt to knock Banand out of the way of the swinging blade.

Time fractured. The world thinned into singular strands.

Araquiel’s mouth opened in a silent scream, whatever hold Ishim had over her shattering beneath the might of their mating bond. Darkness scorched through the night. Banand’s eyes squeezed shut. Ishim grinned with malice. Rokath leaped between the Angel’s leader and me.

Everyone froze.

Uzadaan and Zurronar stepped forward, the only two of the group who could move. No heartbeats passed as they raced to Banand and Araquiel. Uzadaan knocked the would-be executioner’s blade aside as he tackled him.

Zurronar bolted for Araquiel, earth churning beneath each stride. He reached for her—Fates, so fucking close.

Then, the corner of Ishim’s mouth twitched. Grew into a smile made to slaughter.

Fear flashed among the maroon of Zurronar’s eyes. His magic had faltered, failing him at the penultimate moment.

He twisted mid-stride, but the silver blade was already there. In one swift strike, Ishim buried a dagger between his ribs.

A choked gasp slipped from Zurronar. He stumbled, colliding with Araquiel, his momentum unstoppable. They fell together—their fates entwined, helpless in the grip of the Hive’s will. A blur of limbs and blood, swallowed by the void beyond.

A scream tore through me, nearly as violent as the roar that ripped from Banand’s throat.

But that wasn’t the worst sight before us.

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Uzadaan stabbed the Myrza and whirled into a crouch to face the Zahal. Flashes of white from deep below highlighted each bare branch in stark relief. A bronze vise crushed my chest.

We’d made a terrible mistake.

In that moment of frozenness, others had been given time to creep forward, under control of Ishim’s Hive.

The surge of glassy-eyed puppets broke the treeline. Quaked the earth beneath my feet. I yanked Assyria behind me, forcing her out of Ishim’s line of sight.

“Do not be afraid. Hold your ground. Protect yourself at all costs. You are the most precious life here.”

My pulse pounded like a war drum in my chest as I calculated how many dead were around us. How many I could Call to shield her. To shield all of us.

I counted how many precious seconds we had to live.

The number for both was far too few.

But I would not let her die. The world bent to my will.

I dropped to a single knee.

Curled my furious fingers into my palm.

Cocked my fist.

And slammed.

A shockwave of ebony shadow clawed across the hillside, knocking our attackers back for a single, precious moment.

All around us, corpses rose. Sweat beaded my brow as I pushed my magic farther and farther afield, gathering whomever I could to serve me.

The roar of the fight was lost on me as I called, begged, pleaded, with the dead to assist us. With shaking legs, I shoved to my feet, head still dipped down as I dug into my mighty power.

“Reaper, I wield in your name.”

I spoke the words aloud as I brought my arms out in front of me, pointing directly at Ishim.

The ground trembled as the bodies surged on the wave of my fury.

“Let your eye wander here.”

I snapped my gaze forward, locking with the ice blue eyes of the Angel’s Zahal.

“Giver, bless me with the power to slaughter the remainder of these insects.”

Screams rose to a crescendo around me. Vague awareness of the Deathveiled fighting the ring of Angels around us slipped away. My sole focus was on the male calling more and more Angels to his Hive. Because he wouldn’t deign to enter the minds of the Demons, and that was his fatal mistake.

Our staredown continued as the living and dead fought in massive stacked rings.

“Weaver, let the Demon threads hold strong.”

I took a menacing step forward, dipping to pick up my blade at the same time. Ishim drew his, both our attention split between each other and the Gods-blessed power we wielded.

He swung first. Sparks scattered from the force of our collision. I shoved him with all my might, muscles trembling with exertion. I had the uphill advantage, and yet he hardly stumbled. His movements were crisp, his breath unbroken, fresh as if he’d awoken only an hour before. And I had led from the fall of night, side by side with my soldiers since the first warning shattered our planning.

Coward.

Heel dug into the dirt, he launched under my blade, aiming for my legs. I leaped at the last second, reaching for a low hanging branch. With one hand, I swung myself behind him, spinning the moment my feet struck the earth. But Ishim’s lithe frame made him faster than me, and he was already poised to strike.

A wall of obsidian was all that kept his blade from grazing my armor. With a growl, I pressed forward, hoping to make him stumble going uphill. Flashes of white dotted the edges of my vision as more and more of his soldiers worked their way through the trees to the height of the battle.

They gave us a wide berth as we fought like feral beasts. Dozens of my corpses were falling permanently, either unable to use their limbs any longer or because my well was drying up like water in the Paks Desert.

Ishim sidestepped, leveling out with me. Behind me, I knew, was a smooth outcropping. There, slaughtering him would be easier. I let him back me there, laying my careful, precarious trap. The earth gave way to rock beneath my boot.

Only a few more steps…

My heel hooked on something in the dark, and my world tilted on its axis.

Ishim seized the opportunity and leaped forward, blade spearing straight to my middle. I crashed to the ground, unforgiving metal slamming into my spine. Agony speared my upper thigh as the tip of the Zahal’s blade dug between the plates of my armor. I snatched the sharp edges with my gloved palms, silver biting through the fabric there too. But the pain was ashes beneath the fire of my will to protect Assyria. I’d endured far worse and had the scars to prove it.

Blood cascaded from my hand as I wrenched his sword free and threw it into the darkness. The luminosity cast by the Angels flying overhead was dimmed here, rocks and thick-needled pine trees blocking it out.

Ishim drew a dagger by the tip, arm poised and ready to throw. There were only a few places it could penetrate my armor, but I knew from past experience he had good aim. And in this position, with me on the ground and him standing over me, the space between my helmet and my chest plate was exposed.

Smoky gray unfurled from my frame and then stuttered out entirely, my magic waning from contact with silver.

Fuck.

How could I have stumbled at the penultimate moment? Ishim wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter Assyria once he was done with me. Image after image of him torturing her flashed through my mind. He wouldn’t hold back. Not after all the times I’d tormented him, taking the females he loved from him.

I swallowed, hard, as the white of his form gleamed. He took a long, confident step forward, passing through a stream of light that managed to flit through the branches. Like he knew he had me pinned like a wounded animal, and he was preparing to deliver the killing blow.

He cannot end me. He cannot have my mate.

I gritted my teeth and prepared to defend myself, injured leg aching as I attempted to rise from the cold ground.

“I love you, little imposter. In this life and all the rest.”

I had to tell her one last time. Because I might never be able to again.

Fury and fear twisted our bond tight. An all too familiar scream ripped through the night, and my stomach plummeted. Ishim’s attention ripped toward the main battle as another feminine one sounded—but that one did not belong to mate.

“Assyria!” I shouted down our bond.

Shadows ripped through the slashes of white overhead. A small, dark silhouette flew through the night a heartbeat later, slamming into Ishim. The two skidded along the length of rock. Daggers clattered. Bronze flashed as Ishim’s attacker stabbed. Silver followed. An agonized shriek shredded me to pieces. Over and over they tumbled, battling for leverage, as they careened toward the edge of the cliff.

“No!” I roared, lunging for them. I slammed against the ground, denting my armor and punching the breath from my lungs. My hands scrambled for purchase around a pair of boots.

But the leather was slick with crimson. My palms even more so.

And my mate fell.

Swallowed whole by the abyss beneath me.

In the mountains, the drops were long. A pulse of pain dug into our bond before ebbing.

For a moment, all I could do was lie there. Numb. detached. Disbelieving that after everything, fucking everything, the Reaper had taken her from me.

One tear slipped out. Then another. By the third, I was no longer the Halálhívó, the most feared Demon in all of Keleti. I was a shattered husk of a male, begging his Fates to weave any other path.

“Assyria,” I croaked, her name a desperate, broken plea.

I didn’t want to live in a world without her. Without my little imposter. The female who had so ungraciously upended my life, threatening to kill me from our very first interaction.

My world narrowed to the end of that ledge. The sweet relief it promised me. The chance to see her again in my next life.

Yet, through my addled power, a flicker snatched my attention. The faintest of tugs had me dragging myself forward, peering into the void. Overhead, Angel magic flashed, illuminating two burgundy eyes.

And one bloody arm barely hanging on the rim of a jutting rock beneath me.

“Can you fucking help?” my mate shot up at me.

The next tear that slipped out carved relief into my cheek.

“Can you fly?” I shouted.

“He sliced me with silver as we went down, I don’t know that I can call on my wings,” she said, brows pinching as she desperately held my gaze.

That protective beast inside me roared to life.

I will not let her fall to her death.

Gritting my teeth, I yanked on all the magic remaining in my well and pulled my black, membranous wings into existence. In seconds, I sailed over the ledge, dropping straight to my mate. When I captured her waist in my arms, I’d never been more grateful to feel the curves of her body pressed against mine.

Sweat slicked my skin as I flew us upward, the magic of our mate bond the only thing keeping me going. The rock cracked from the force of our landing. We tumbled to the ground, and with the last of my strength, I hauled Assyria on top of me so she wouldn’t be crushed beneath my bulk.

Breath heaved in and out of my lungs from the force of my exertion. Yet I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Assyria.

Stained with crimson, coated in dark dirt, and with eyes of devious burgundy shining down at me, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to kiss her or spank her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I berated her through a chest still constricted by a vise.

“I saved your life. You’re welcome,” she shot back, grinning with wild abandon. “Oh, and I killed another Myrza too. She was planning on doing what I did, but to you.”

Rage battled with relief inside me as I crushed her against me. My heart thudded so hard against my armor, I was certain it would beat right out of the metal casing. “Do not do that again.”

I could almost feel her eyes rolling. “Let go of your magic now before you exhaust yourself. The wall is holding and the space between the stone and the trees is clear.”

I had the moment I leaped for her, because she was the most precious thing in this entire world and I’d rather burn out every last drop on saving her.

“Then we need to press on,” I told her. “We’re not in Sivy yet, and there are still more Angels standing between our current position and the capital.”

Releasing the tension in my arms, I allowed her out of my hold, though I hated every inch of space between us.

She let out a small laugh as she ran a hand over the new dents in the black metal on my chest. “You’re going to hate this when you see it in the light.”

I sighed and shook my head. “Where did you leave the rest?”

“Up there,” she jerked her head in the direction of the wall. “Figured you’d want to regroup before advancing.”

She wasn’t wrong.

With a groan, I pressed to my feet, swaying slightly as I put weight on my injured leg. But the wound wasn’t deep, and enough time had passed that the silver’s effects were wearing off.

“Come, let’s find the others.” I slipped my hand around hers and hobbled off the cliffs—before any more crazy ideas sprouted in her mind. She tucked close to my side, letting me lean into her for support.

Bodies littered the ground as we trudged uphill, my lungs and legs burning from the exertion of the last few hours. When we emerged into the clearing, I found most of the Deathveiled huddled together, Olet among them.

And, to my utter surprise, Banand and Araquiel.

“Halálhívó,” they greeted me in unison. Every single one dropped to a knee and rested their foreheads on their arms before rising.

“I’ve never seen you wield so many at once before,” Olet said, awe lining his tone. Then his attention fell to the garnet dripping down my leg. He reached into a pocket of his fighting jacket and pulled out a vial of green.

All I could do was gaze upon my bold, beautiful mate, even as I gulped down the pium. “Well, I’ve never had someone to protect like this before.”

She grinned up at me, though sorrow glistened in her eyes. And our bond told me exactly where it originated.

“Who did we lose?” I asked, attention flitting among the group to see if I could figure for myself. “Where is Zurronar?”

Araquiel dipped her gaze briefly, clearing her throat. “I lost him in our roll. I couldn’t find him.” Her voice was thick and heavy. Banand closed his eyes, tipping his head toward the sky. The two had been through horrors too awful to speak together. Even before that, they’d been inseparable.

To lose Zurronar now, after I’d promoted him again, after he’d continued to fight in the army, carrying his untarnished honor, was a massive blow.

Araquiel hugged his side, and yet he still didn’t lower himself to this moment with us. Grief on the battlefield was a risk, and one he knew all too well. Death was inevitable, as much as we loathed losing the ones we loved.

Assyria sniffed, wiping at her eyes. I squeezed her hand, letting her know I was there. I wanted her to feel. Wanted Banand to feel. And all the rest too.

But the war wasn’t won yet.

“We lost a few thousand. Lots of archers, fewer ground soldiers,” Olet reported. “Though the Angel casualties were far higher.”

I scanned the area, noting the sheer number of white haired bodies face-down in the soaked earth.

“We need to move out. We can beat them back to Sivy if we move quickly. Send a group of able-bodied to fetch horses, wagons, and other supplies. The rest need to reform and follow us immediately. The night is long, and we have an advantage in the dark.”

“Yes, sir.” Olet saluted me, then turned on his heel and jogged up the hill. Wings sprouted from his back, and he swept toward the wall, sounding off orders.

Banand and Araquiel turned to us, and the latter cleared her throat. “Thank you. For saving us. My life, my blade, my magic, are yours to command.” Araquiel knelt, her head resting on her arm. Love and pride shone in Banand’s eyes as he looked at his mate. Yet beneath it was a profound sadness.

“Go with Parancsok Olet. Assist him however he needs. Your service was and is commendable,” I said. He could at least find the space to feel for a few moments, saving face with the rest of the soldiers, if he returned to his quarters.

Banand grasped his mate’s arm and helped her to her feet. Wings unfurled behind them—black membrane and white feather brushing. “We’ll rejoin you soon.” And then, they leaped into the skies, hand in hand. I couldn’t blame them. They’d almost lost each other after finally accepting their bond.

The rest of the group remained, awaiting my next command.

Units from all directions converged, and once a large enough force had gathered, I spoke. “You all fought well tonight, but the battle is far from over. Press our advantage. Conquer what should be ours. Protect our race from those zealots. Százados, reform your ranks and continue your march.”

The officers organized their squads, working with quick precision. The Deathveiled lingered, sitting on the ground, catching their breath, cleaning off their blades. I noted that other than Zurronar, we’d only lost one other, and none of the females. Grem and Zeec flopped on their sides, tongues wet with red and lolling. Feral grins pulled their muzzles back like they’d reveled in their slaughter.

I removed my helmet, letting the winter night air cool my overheated form. Exhaustion tugged at my limbs, and the shadows in my chest were scarcely more than a gray whisper. Clouds moved in overhead, and then, fat flakes fell from the sky. They nearly sizzled as they hit my bare scalp.

“Let’s hurry it up!” I shouted. We needed to move out before we lost too much of their trail to the oncoming storm. My breath frosted in front of me, indicating just how quickly the temperature was dropping.

Thankfully, they did. Even Banand and Araquiel managed to rejoin us, noting that Olet would oversee the supplies moving forward and didn’t require extra assistance.

I brought my fingers to my lips and whistled. As one, the mass of bodies began to move, Assyria and I at the front. But when we reached the rocks where we’d defeated Ishim, I tugged her to the side. It would provide us with a view down into the valley below, and with her keen eyes, she could help me spot any lingering danger.

Grem and Zeec trotted to the edge, scanning for themselves. Curiosity had me peering down to see if I could find the body of the Angel army’s leader. The drop was steep and long. There was no way he could have survived a fall of that magnitude.

But I had to be sure.

The Zahal’s broken form crumpled over a group of severe boulders. Garnet leaked from the hole caved into his head, and a sharp point protruded from his ribs.

Assyria drifted to my side, helmet tucked under her arm, wispy hairs at her brow plastered to her forehead, and looked down at him too.

“Funny. I’ve now killed two males that ended up looking like this after.”

My attention sliced to her. I raised a brow in question.

She shrugged, a small smile curving her lips. “I caved Vagach’s head in with a meat mallet after I stabbed him in the ribs. Then I buried him in a deep hole. Just dropped him in there without a care. Basically, he looked exactly like that.” She gestured toward Ishim’s form below.

A wicked laugh burst from me before I could stop it. I shook my head at my mate. I shouldn’t have expected anything different from her.

Draping an arm over her shoulders, I tugged her into my side. Salt mingled with a rosy garden as I buried my nose in her hair and inhaled deeply. Our bond hummed with contentment—the kind that came with unwavering devotion on both sides.

The last of the Angels’ white light faded overhead as they retreated further down the mountain. Boots crunched over the fallen leaves and branches as the Demon army marched on.

Yet in the darkness, Assyria and I burned brighter.

Hate? That was where we’d begun. Somewhere in the vehement abhorrence, we’d found vast adoration in those wounds buried deep inside us. They’d called to one other, healed bit by bit by our bond. Until a love, so dark, so tempting, so infinite, remained.

“I love you, Assyria. My perfect mate,” I murmured.

With a soft sigh, she leaned into me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “I love you, Rokath. My forever protector.”

We stood together in the hush, the mountain a silent witness to all we had lost, all we had gained. Her pulse thrummed with mine, steady and even, when both had raced at the thought of either being permanently stilled.

A moment passed before she spoke again.

“Thank you for living.”

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