Page 82 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

We needed to integrate them quickly with new units so they could spread stories of Assyria and me. Kiira had been right—once all of the academy was hooked on the mythos of us, belief had shifted quickly.

I hoped it would sway the rest of the realm too.

I glanced at my brave mate. The Fates had certainly deemed all the blood I spilled for them worthy if they’d given me such an incredible female to have by my side. There was plenty more to offer their thirsty soil. I’d gladly drench it so long as they kept her safe.

Too many times now, I’d almost lost her. First to the cobra in the Paks Desert. Second to the Angel’s kidnapping. Third to an assassin. Fourth during the Battle of Fured.

The number wasn’t nearly as high as the number of times I’d almost died myself. Yet each one was far, far too many for my liking.

I’d spent centuries preparing for war. For death. For glory. But nothing—fucking nothing—had prepared me for loving her. Nothing had prepared me for how fucking willing I was to burn the world down if it meant keeping her alive.

The first sounds of the camp reached my ears as we rounded the high cliffs dotted with towering pines and cloud trees.

A few large cacti clung to the sides, absorbing whatever moisture dripped down from the few clouds that managed to cross the peaks of the Skala Mountains.

Here, at least, the highest points were far lower than they were closer to Uzhhorod.

On the other side of the range, Eloi, the largest city in the northern part of the Angel Realm, loomed.

From there, the Angels were poised to invade into the Demon Realm.

For centuries, they’d launched their extermination attacks between here and the ocean from that base.

That they’d returned yet again to that position made my jaw ache .

We’d commanded the city once. But with their numbers swelling, could we do it again?

The war camp unfurled before us, yet it was different than it had been on the open plains.

Instead of a cluster of organized chaos, tents hugged the sides of the cliff face.

Warriors ducked out of them, their expressions hard.

Many faces were wan, and more than a few far too thin for my liking.

Furs wrapped around shoulders to ward off the chill.

More scattered on either side as the canyon widened, bearing a sour note of displeasure. Fingers jerked in the direction of the females trailing behind us. Whispers echoed off the narrow walls. I noted them all.

Assyria, deep in conversation with Zurronar, paid them no heed.

Yet Grem and Zeec’s hackles raised as they trotted along the thin thoroughfare.

The valley bloomed ahead of us, and even more soldiers appeared. These, however, greeted us with more enthusiasm, salutes and my honorific slicing through their otherwise busy day.

Like the spokes of a wheel, paths carved toward the barracks.

Zurronar led us through the maze, single file as there wasn’t enough room to ride abreast. My stallion’s ears flicked in all directions as sounds bounced off the mountains.

I stole a glance up toward the road that led to the wall, memories of that fateful day surfacing, just like every time I returned here.

Assyria subtly slowed her horse so the distance between us lessened.

My attention cut to my mate. Her helmet gleamed, and the sun highlighted the little flecks of purple in her eyes.

Ebony hair spilled down her back with a slight wave from sleeping in a braid.

The black leather she wore made her look all the more formidable atop her mount .

“Our absence hasn’t changed them, right?” A hint of worry slipped into her tone.

“I don’t know, little imposter. We will have to see. And if they rebel again…well they would do well to remember the consequences from before.”

She nodded and faced forward, thumb raking over the small garnet in her ring. We neared the only permanent building at last, and officers spilled out of its cool interior.

From the shadows, Trol appeared. His face was even more weathered than when we’d met in Ustlyak and he’d been covered in month’s worth of dirt and sand.

His lips twisted into a smile as we slowed to a stop in front of him, but the sentiment didn’t reach the corners of his eyes.

“Halálhívó, I am grateful for your quick return to the front.”

I dismounted, handing Assyria my reins, and approached my second Hadvezér. Boots hit the ground behind me, and then Rapp joined us.

Trol let out a low chuckle. “Good to see you alive and well, Rapp. You’re looking even better than before your injury.”

Rapp grabbed Trol’s arm and pulled him in for an embrace, clapping him on the back at the same time. “I’m glad to be feeling better too. Fured was certainly healing for me.”

Trol looked beyond us to the line of wagons and new soldiers. “How many?”

“About ten thousand. The valley looks like it’s full to the brim already,” I commented, glancing around. Makeshift structures claimed every available inch of space. Some soldiers had to turn sideways to navigate the narrow slots between them.

“Aye, it is. We’ll have to figure out where to put everyone, though I think once you hear the latest update it will solve our problem,” Trol added, running a hand over his close-cropped hair .

“Let’s talk, then.” Our weeks by the sea had been a nice break, but now, it was time to focus again.

From the chaos, Assyria and Kiira appeared. The High Priestess strode with her shoulders square, not deigning to offer any of the males her attention.

Assyria too carried an air of importance as she came to a halt beside me. “Where do you want us?”

“You’ll come with me,” I told her. “Kiira, can you try to find a temporary place to settle everyone else?”

Trol swept into a low bow. After all, she was cousin to the Kral and the highest of nobility in addition to her position as spiritual leader for the realm. “High Priestess. It is an honor to have you among us. The operations managers in the first battalion should be able to help you for now.”

“Thank you, Hadvezér Trol. The Fates shine their favor on you for your continued sacrifice and work in their names,” Kiira replied, her tone warm and inviting.

She was magic in her own right. “I’ll bring a few of the females from the Deathveiled with me.

It would be good for them to start speaking of their time at the academy. ”

“Aye,” I told her.

Trol snapped his fingers at one of the Százados hanging in the periphery. “Take the High Priestess to the operations manager.”

“Certainly. If you’ll follow me, High Priestess,” he said. With a small wave, she bid us goodbye, calling out Maariya, Izzenna, and Vokkia to join her.

“The Deathveiled?” Trol clarified when they were out of earshot.

“We have updates of our own,” I told him. “With so much time apart, I’m sure we’ll need hours to discuss everything that’s occurred.”

“I don’t doubt it. The command room is ready and waiting for you,” Trol commented, spinning on his heel. Two Vezet? jerked open the doors to the barracks, allowing us entrance.

Yet this was no homecoming—it was something far more dangerous. It was the ascension of dangerous new legends, lethal new leaders, and a warning for all who dared defy us.

The Demons were rising, and with it, the Angels would fall. But in the shadows of the mountains, our victory would not come without a sacrifice.