Page 71 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

R app, Olet, Rokath, and I went to the main courtyard and found a sea of soldiers preparing to fight. A sharp whistle from Rokath silenced them all. Whipping around, some even blinking at the sight of their Halálhívó in duplicate, we gained their undivided attention.

Excited shouts of Szélhámos rang out among the former priestesses, and some of the males beat their chests wildly. A collective roar rose from the battle-ready, emboldened by the power exuding from the four of us.

Rokath had to hush them again, but satisfaction curled down our bond.

Then, he shouted out instructions based on his quick plans.

With practiced precision, the groups rearranged themselves, Olet peeling off to meet with the archers he’d take to the skies, while Rapp and I went to the Deathveiled, gathered near an alcove by the siege doors.

Izzenna bared her teeth in bloodthirsty defiance as she saluted us. Vokkia puffed up her chest. Pride bloomed in mine as I surveyed them and the others, not cowering in fear, but ready to wield their magic and blades for the Demon cause.

“While I may appear as the Halálhívó, I am your Szélhámos. My magic is fucking powerful, and we are going to use that to our advantage. While I cannot call upon the dead, we can make these Angels believe that I can. Protect me, and we will crush them,” I snarled, the rousing speech pouring out of me, raw and so damn right.

“Yes, Szélhámos!” Their voices rang with fierce determination.

Rapp injected himself and relayed further instruction. “We will attack from the left, and we need to move now. Conjure your wings and we will fly into position.”

The group took a few healthy steps apart and did just that. Not wanting to waste any more magic or energy than I had to, I returned to my Assyria form and dragged mine into existence.

“On my mark,” Rapp cautioned. We waited for him to give the order, and then we leaped into the sky. The Hadvezér’s stoic expression twisted into one of pain as we glided over the battlements. I drifted closer, opening my mouth to tell him we could run to position, but he shot me a sharp look.

I snapped my mouth shut.

Soaring toward the front towers, we banked left and swept around them.

The stone behind us, we swooped low, the grass close enough to reach out and run my fingers over.

I did just that as I gazed ahead, searching for the Százados who had departed under Rokath’s earlier command.

They’d managed to arrange themselves among the tall yellow fronds, lying flat on their bellies to wait for the approaching Angels.

Into the darkness I peered, like my vision could slice through the void and determine our survival.

Air lodged in my throat when my focus landed on a horde of white and grey spreading like rolling smoke over the hillside.

Beneath the moon, they snuck through the vegetation on silent feet.

Whomever had spotted them had keen eyes indeed .

We landed among the other Demons, and I yanked a sword out of its sheath before reforming Rokath’s body over mine.

“How long do we wait?” I whispered to Rapp.

“Until the horn,” he mouthed back.

Blowing out a long breath, I nodded and returned my attention forward. The thick straw provided cover, but it shielded my view of our approaching attackers. My heart galloped against my ribs, and ice shattered through my veins.

Every moment of training had prepared me for this moment.

Yet I couldn’t help the sick feeling rising in my stomach.

All of that had been mere practice, like a parent coddling their youngling as they neared to navigate the world.

This was real. One wrong move wouldn’t result in a pause in instruction and correction.

It would result in death.

I tried to breathe deep into my belly, but it was no use.

Rokath appeared in my mind, and I’d never been more relieved to hear from him.

“Nerves are normal before your first battle. But you are strong, brave, smart. Devious. Use all of that to your advantage, like I know you can, and we’ll celebrate by fucking in their blood once we’ve slaughtered every last one of them. ”

The violent promise in his words heated my core. His belief in me renewed my focus.

“I love you. See you on the other side,” I sent back, along with a pulse of endless love.

“Fall back if you need to. You matter to me more than anything, Assyria. None of this will be worth it without you.”

“I promise I will.”

The horn blasted through the night.

As one, we rose, a collective cry ripping from our throats.

A few hundred yards away, the Angels faltered their advance.

The stars and moon cast eerie glows over the silver blades they drew as we raced to meet them.

Ahead of me, the first wave thrust their polearms into the formation, pulling anguished cries from their lips.

As they yanked their blades back, the second wave slipped around them and sliced down whomever remained standing at the front.

From the third wave, magic blasted in their direction. Nightmares, Chaos, and Corruption abounded, extracting even more screams. The sharp sound pierced my ears, and yet I couldn’t afford to flinch.

“Keep going!” I shouted, and then, the Angels noticed my advance with Rapp by my side.

“Halálhívó!” they screeched, almost like a warning.

Their ranks reformed like a school of fish when they sense danger. Flashes of white illuminated the night.

“Suppressors, go!” Rapp yelled, and a group of females leaped into action, spinning their shadows in a frenzy, preventing those wielding light from continuing to do so.

Ahead of me, bodies fell. I gritted my teeth and kept pushing forward, another group rising to fill the void they left behind as we battled. Dragging in a deep breath, I dove into the well of my magic, deeper and stronger than ever before thanks to Rokath’s expert teaching.

A twister engulfed me, slicing across my vision.

I flung my hands forward, aiming for the center of a particularly close cluster.

The Angels split apart from the force of my shove, their bodies hitting the ground and each other with hard thuds.

The scattering allowed the females wielding polearms to dig the tips into their attacker’s stomachs.

With a unified cry, they yanked their weapons back, dropping a half dozen Angels. I released a whoop, thrilled by our success, then repeated the action. Magic and blades cracked through the night. Both sexes fought with fervor.

Forgotten were the centuries of a society where females were incapable of holding their own in the army. The battlefield made no distinction.

Outnumbered, united , we forced the Angels back toward their realm.

More flashes of white sliced through the dark, and another group appeared like a shimmering wave to our left.

“Illusion!” I screamed, naming it for what it was so no one would be distracted by it. I ground my foot into the dirt, digging into reality. Others did the same, and the trick dissipated on the wind.

Rapp and I, shoulder to shoulder, closed in on the front line. Thick black ropes appeared in his hands, and he flung them indiscriminately into the crowd. As Angel after Angel collapsed, bound by Rapp’s magic, a Demon raced forward to drive their blades through their hearts.

Finally, the Deathveiled surged over the hill, forcing our way onto a flat plain. After my next whipping shadow attack, I stole a look around the battle, glimpsing Olet and the archers in the air, dodging blasts of white and firing arrows down in return. I kept scanning until I found my mate.

Despite the mass of bodies in his wake, he hadn’t yet unleashed his power.

With me impersonating him, he was unable to wield the corpses littered across the terrain.

Not unless he wanted to reveal the Imposter.

The way he had to Call was too obvious, with the shockwave that would yank the dead upright to fight.

“Press harder!” I commanded. The sooner we closed the distance between us, the sooner he could claim his power to assist our assault.

A scream pierced my ear again, far too close for comfort. I whipped toward the source of the sound. One of the garnet-eyed females dropped to the ground, a hand slapped over an arrow protruding from her neck .

Fuck.

Another bolt whizzed by, catching someone else behind me. “Duck!” Rapp yelled, and I hit the ground a second before a third flew straight overhead.

A thick rope sailed away from us and wrapped around a group of Angels ahead. “Protect the Halálhívó,” he growled, and the group surged like an angry wave.

Roars shattered the night, clamoring with the clashing of blades as we continued to press our enemies back.

I shoved to my feet, yanking a sword away from a fallen body.

The Angels packed tight like bees in a hive, preparing for their next assault.

I raised my arm, tip of the blade pointed toward the group.

Aim wasn’t nearly as important as distance.

With all my might, I threw.

The bronze whistled through the air, driving straight through the stomach of a male Angel in the midst of the group. His eyes widened, and he clutched the sharp edges like he would yank it free. But it was no use. His knees smacked the earth, and then he flattened completely.

My first intentional kill.

Yet grief didn’t surge from the pit of my belly as I watched him die; instead, fire ravaged my veins, imbuing me with further ferocity. A wild grin pulled up my lips as I grabbed another sword and repeated my offensive. Another Angel crashed to the ground.

“Fuck yes!” Rapp encouraged, handing me another. Together we threw again, him his binds, and me, the weapons. Rokath’s muscles certainly held multiple advantages.

But then, from the rear of the Angel army, a wave of light, so bright it nearly burned out my vision, rose.

“Shield your eyes!” Rapp screamed.

I threw my elbow over my face and buried my head. In front of us, anguish cries resounded .

The soldiers at the very front.

When I opened them again, what remained of the first and second waves of our army had vanished. Now, a mountain of bodies separated the Angels and Demons as we faced off.

It was almost poetic.

The Angels struck first, pressing their advantage. Vaulting over the dead, some flung more illusions in our direction, warping our reality. Others threw sharp weapons into our midst.

Rapp and I yanked on our shadows to shield the Deathveiled and the other soldiers around us. Vokkia rained destruction down indiscriminately. Izzenna wove nightmares and shoved them in the faces of distant groups to hold them off.

Sweat slicked my spine as they continued forward, forcing us back foot by foot. There were so, so many of them. More that I hadn’t seen at first glance.

Would we make it out of this conflict alive?

Uzadaan and Maariya raced ahead of us as a group of white-armored Angels closed in. When they’d worked together in the past, it had been terrifying.

Now?

I welcomed the sight.

The tip of a bronze blade dug into her skin, and she splattered her blood on the field. Sucking over the wound, she drew ruby into her mouth and spit it in a female’s direction. Blood dusted her white armor. The Angel snarled, lips curling in revulsion, as she spun on my friend.

Only to halt in place, along with a dozen others, as Maariya wielded her magic. Uzadaan spread his fingers wide, and still more froze, only able to blink at the oncoming Demons. Two females darted between the statuesque figures and sliced the throats of them all.

“Get back,” Rapp barked at me, and I wasted no time retreating behind another line. Should another tidal wave of light come, I didn’t want to be in a vulnerable position.

The first hint of dawn appeared over the ocean.

Only then did I realize how long we’d been fighting. Exhaustion tugged at my limbs, and I stole a moment to check on my magic well.

While the shadows were still ebony, their color was waning gray. And quickly.

“Rapp!” I called out. He carefully backstepped, and the line closed in front of him. “We need to rejoin the Halálhívó, and soon.”

He nodded, expert eyes sweeping over the battlefield. “Tell Rokath to signal Olet to fly this way and help us carve a path to him.”

“We need help over here. Send the archers,” I relayed down our mental connection.

“Done,” came his terse, tense reply.

Rustling wings reached our ears. Olet and the archers approached from the ocean, their black wings spread wide and sharp arrow tips poised to fly. A group of Angels met them in the skies, giving us room to breathe on the ground.

“Work your way right!” I shouted at our squads.

As one, we moved, corralling our enemies in the direction of the steep cliffs. Sweat slicked my skin, and more than once, I tripped on a fallen body. Rapp’s face was ashen, each new bind more gossamer than the last. His movements too dragged like every muscle twitch required enormous effort.

“Don’t overdo it,” I reminded him as a few soldiers picked up polearms and stabbed into the Angel line again.

“I won’t,” he said, but I didn’t believe him. Like Rokath, he’d fight through the pain, to his own detriment.

But then, a shockwave swept across the battlefield, bringing with it a sound so sharp, so piercing, I fell to my knees.

Clutching my head, I succumbed to the agony, unable to think about anything other than the moment the pain would stop.

When the acuteness abated, I dropped my hands, finding them soaked in blood.

My ears rang as if the bell from the academy tolled inside them.

A glint caught my eye, and I looked up from the crimson to glimpse silver swinging for my neck.