Page 81 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

T he Skala Mountains loomed nearer with every breath.

When we’d passed through Lutsk, it wasn’t merely deserted.

The earth had been churned by the boots of hundreds of thousands of feet.

The city had been scrubbed from the map entirely, like the Angels had erased what was left of the crumbling walls during their retreat.

Behind Assyria and me, what remained of our survivors from Fured marched, growing more grim the higher the peaks speared into the sky. The battle we’d faced weeks prior was nothing compared to what was to come.

“Someone is approaching,” Assyria muttered, eyes narrowing on a speck of movement in the distance.

“Search,” I commanded the hounds, and they leaped into action.

Like black blurs, they streaked across the earth, hunting whomever Assyria had spotted in the distance.

We were closing in on the northernmost ridges of the range, where one of the largest outposts along the wall that divided the continent waited.

The very same one where I’d fucked up on my first mission as Vezet?.

Where I’d gotten most of our unit slaughtered.

And for which my father and the Kral had punished us by forcing me to kill Thast. After speaking my truth to Assyria, the memory of him didn’t dig a knife between my ribs quite as violently as before.

But the guilt, the same, still lingered.

“It wasn’t your fault, mate,” Assyria murmured into my mind, her voice a balm to the burning. I hadn’t realized I was projecting my thoughts down our bond. With a sigh, I unclenched my jaw and uncurled my fingers from around my stallion’s reins.

“It was, but I appreciate your reassurance.” Before she could argue further, Grem and Zeec let out a wild series of barks. We dug our heels into our horses’ sides, and they galloped forward. After cresting a rocky hill, we halted, surveying the scene below.

Two males were on their knees with my loyal beasts circling them. Their dark hair and red eyes loosened my chest immediately.

“Heel,” I commanded the dogs. They retreated to their place between our mounts.

“Halálhívó, Szélhámos,” Banand and Zurronar greeted us, rising to their feet.

Once there, they offered us both a closed-fisted salute.

Banand cleared his throat, then flattened his hands behind his lower back.

“Hadvezér Trol is in the pass just ahead. With so many soldiers, it was impossible to bunk in Kohszak. He sent us to guide your way.”

I studied them intently, not saying anything. I waited for the flicker of magic, the hint that an Angel was creating an illusion. After all, the two of them had been in their custody for months. But when Zurronar shot Assyria a wink, I let my suspicions drop.

They were replaced by the desire to rip out his eye.

I shoved the urge into the dirt and finally acknowledged what Banand had said. “Take us there, and give me a report while we go.”

“Aye, Halálhívó,” he affirmed.

I glanced over my shoulder to see how far behind the rest were. Kiira and Rapp were nearly upon us, the first of the wagons not far behind. I was so fucking glad Rapp had been able to ride this entire time. The additional pium he’d been taking every day had done wonders.

“We’re going into the pass,” Assyria shouted for me. When she faced forward again, she dipped her chin.

We’d been working better and better as a team too since she started training to impersonate me. With our bond, we were able to anticipate each other’s movements. That had translated into orders too.

And I found myself savoring the support. To my utter surprise, not having to do everything on my own, having her to lean on, had done wonders for my overall attitude.

“Lead the way,” I told Banand and Zurronar, and they pivoted back toward the mountains. Grem and Zeec wandered off, checking the area, while the two former prisoners of war took their place between Assyria and me.

“Did you receive the raven in time for the attack?” Zurronar questioned, a hint of hope in his tone. I knew him well enough to know he cared deeply for the army. It was one of the reasons he’d been promoted time and time again.

As I regarded him from above, the night that irrevocably changed the course of my life—and this war—rose to the front of my mind.

How I’d killed his brother for protecting my mate.

Not that I had known. And still, he hadn’t been furious.

He hadn’t cursed my name. Instead, he’d remained at the front, continued to fight for the Demon cause, when he had every right to leave.

He possessed an honor that I did not.

Assyria replied for me. “The day after actually. We were mid-torture of a Myrza when a messenger came. The Halálhívó was quite annoyed at the interruption.”

Zurronar snorted a laugh, but Banand’s brows pinched.

“How many did you lose?” Banand ventured like a dagger was pressed to his throat and the wrong number would send it plunging into his skin.

“Too many, but not enough to make a serious dent. We still have plenty of power,” I reassured him. The guilt he carried for his plague was etched into the lines of his face.

“Especially with the addition of the females,” Assyria added, knocking her leg into his shoulder. He glanced up at her and offered a tense smile.

“How has that been going?” Zurronar asked her next. “I see you now have a helmet of your own to match the Halálhívó’s.”

She beamed, and the pride in her expression made my heart ache. Seeing her this happy, so in her element…it was everything.

“After the initiation ritual, the males started to integrate them of their own accord. Now they work closely together, like equals,” she gushed.

“I hope that they’ll keep it up once we reunite with everyone.

We really do have some powerful magic among the female soldiers. They’ll be great assets to many units.”

“We will ensure they are welcomed,” Zurronar promised, but the way he shifted in his saddle gave me pause. I studied him further as Banand echoed his sentiment.

The path grew steeper as we entered the foothills of the Skala Mountains, and ahead, a canyon waited for us.

This route was one I’d ridden countless times over my centuries of life.

Once we rounded the first bend, a small pool would line the right hand side, the perfect place to refill a waterskin if needed.

After that, a tough incline challenged all riders, but the winding path beyond it was an easy enough ride to the barracks and outpost at Kohszak.

“What else?” I prodded them as we approached the water. There, two horses were tethered, and the males fetched their beasts and mounted them.

“We’ve done our best to support Hadvezér Trol as he spread us out along the northern part of the wall,” Banand said, his gelding falling into step alongside my stallion.

Assyria rode ahead alongside Zurronar. “We still have custody of two of the Angel females, and we managed to capture a few more who attempted to sneak into the camp.”

“What of your magic?” I asked him.

He dropped his gaze, studying the leather reins in his hands. The path pitched upward suddenly, and he leaned into his horse’s neck, helping him clear it. We did the same, their breaths labored by the time we reached the crest.

“Banand is…struggling with it.” Zurronar turned in his saddle, his eyes first locking with mine and then drifting to his comrade. A muscle feathered in Banand’s jaw.

“My guess is that it’s more a mental block and less a physical one. The shame he felt after his rescue was apparent,” Assyria slipped down our bond.

“Aye, that was my assumption as well.”

“We’ll discuss it later,” I decided, wanting to change the subject. Speaking of it now would only further Banand’s anguish, and I needed him to pull it together to aid us in winning the war. “What happened to the third female?”

“She stole a dagger from one of the guards and killed herself,” Zurronar stated, his tone colder than the wind clawing through the canyon. An ember of something that looked a lot like rage smoldered in his maroon eyes .

Assyria sucked in a sharp breath. “Which one?”

“The one with the ocean eyes. She was always the nasty one.” He lifted a shoulder and dropped it like her death meant nothing. And to him, why should it? The torture the Angels had inflicted on the two of them had been brutal. Horrific. Gut wrenching.

In truth, her suicide didn’t affect our plans at all. She was the least powerful and therefore the least useful one. Not like the Angels thought any of them still lived.

A perusal glance over my shoulder revealed the rest of our traveling group ascending.

Rapp and Kiira’s horses were close, their heads dipped and quiet words passing between them.

Beyond them, the last of the supply wagons appeared over the ridge.

More males and females streamed behind them on foot.

Parancsok Olet, along with all the Százados who brought up the rear, would ensure every soldier successfully arrived at the outpost.

“Hadvezér Trol can explain the rest when we reach him. The edge of the camp is just ahead,” Banand said, pointing to a bend in the distance.

“Aye,” I grumbled. We hadn’t been gone long, and yet everything had changed in that time.

Females—powerful in their own right—walked among seasoned warriors.

Assyria had emerged as a force unto her own.

Kiira had joined the army too, seemingly indefinitely, though she wouldn’t participate in any real fighting.

And Xannirin?

Fates only knew what he was doing. I hadn’t heard from him since he departed the military academy. A raven never appeared among the desert rocks, bearing an acknowledgement of my request.

At least the reinforcements should reinvigorate those who might still see the loss of the fifty thousand as an utter failure on my part—I hoped.