Page 75 of The Fated and the Damned
The lord of Mistvellen was dead. Resting a hand on his chest, I prayed Hadur would welcome him in the beyond.
“Avenge him, Brother,” Lukasz said. He squeezed my arm just once and that small act was enough to return my wits and spur my rage.
I howled at the sky, setting my eyes on my next targets as hundreds of bone chilling calls echoed my own, none more emotional than the man by my side.
To the east and west, the lupus—our great black wolves and protectors of the old gods—stretched along the hillsides, looking down with golden eyes from their giant black bodies.
“I will show them why we call ourselves the Wolfblood,” I whispered to my father. “I will show them what we’re really made of.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Kitarni
Iwatchedinaweas the huge wolves descended the hillsides, sprinting out and around the approaching creatures, surrounding them entirely. Hope sparked in my chest at the sight of these graceful beasts, but my heart ached for Dante and the loss of my father-in-law. After never really knowing my own father—thanks to Caitlin’s antiquated laws—I’d hoped to find that bond in Farkas, but it would never be.
The wolves were a mighty sight to behold as they fought with gnashing teeth and paws the size of giant clubs. I didn’t even know where they’d been hiding in Mistvellen’s walls, but I was never more grateful for their presence.
They worked efficiently as a pack, tearing out throats and covering each other’s tails as they fought. With our own lines reformed, we would soon re-join them.
Dante stood before us, his cloak rippling in the wind, one of his swords planted in the ground as he held his hands out, palms down, and began to summon. My lips parted as the shadowy smoke of his own power blotted out my red while he called forth the dead. My skin tingled, like it was covered in a thousand scurrying spiders, as an otherworldly wind gusted over the army.
When he looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes were pitch-black and my stomach flipped at the cruel smile curving his lips. I’d expected to see bodies rising from the battlefield, but what I saw was so much better.
A portal opened in front of him and I gasped as demons poured out in droves. Creatures both scaled and furred released from that gate, spilling out in wave upon wave. Evil wrapped steel claws around my heart, but I gritted my teeth and rode out the spine-tingling magic that ensnared me.
When Death stepped out of that portal, I just about died of shock. His robes billowed as the shrieking wind ripped at our clothes and nearly tore the hair from our scalps. I stood my ground and stared as the horseman turned towards me, somehow narrowing down on my power, the scars on my back rippling painfully. The prick could probably sense the crown still pulsing annoyingly at my hip.
I gasped as Death’s magic flared and András stepped to my side silently, angling his body in front of mine. I rolled my eyes. Typical protective male syndrome. “If he wants me dead,” I said between sharp inhalations, “I’d be gone already.”
András grunted but didn’t move. Thankfully, Death’s burning gaze—yeah, I could feel it, even if the fucker didn’t have eyes—passed from me as he moved to observe the battle on the hillside. Apparently, he still couldn’t intervene.
His demons, however? I didn’t know how Dante had managed to get them on our side, but I hoped whatever bargain he’d made was worth it.
András lifted his hands, mimicking Dante’s movement, only this time the bodies of the fallen reanimated. I looked around at the other táltosok mirroring these actions, their magic beckoning their lost brothers to return.
Transfixed by so much power radiating through the air, I stood rooted to the spot as my soldiers called upon their gifts. The crown’s vibrations seemed to increase in urgency, as if responding to so much dark magic around us. It took all my willpower to ignore that taunting call and put the damned thing on my head.
To end them all.
I shook my head and sheathed my sword, ignoring the stab of pain that panged up my side as I twisted my hands, summoning my blood magic. The red circled my wrists and I stepped forward slowly, joining Dante while he worked.
We linked hands, the connection somehow strengthening my power, as I knew it did his. He looked at me, his black eyes giving him a sinister edge, and I smiled, knowing my eyes would be the same.
I turned towards the succubi advancing on stained, black hooves and unleashed my power.
Red misted out from my free hand, curling around our allies and only striking down the approaching beasts. Flesh one moment and ash the next, stirred up on the wind still gusting from Dante.
The demons kept pouring from that void, flooding out in a wave of darkness as creatures on both sides gnashed their teeth and swiped claws and tails. Blood spurted everywhere, and beasts began to feed on flesh, ripping and tearing. My insides baulked at the sight, but I didn’t turn away, blasting again and again until that moral voice inside me was but a memory of a witch.
I relished in my fury, sinking into a deep bliss of magic so addictive and pleasurable, I lost all sense of time and meaning as I killed. And killed. And killed.
It wasn’t until a horn blasted that I snapped out of my revelry and looked behind me, startled by the unfamiliar call and hoping to hell that whoever it was, they were on our side.
Blue banners rippled in the wind, the turul—the Kingdom of Hungary’s bird and national symbol—mid-flight on the sigil. Row upon row of humans equipped with swords, spears, and shields overlooked the fields, their torches raised high.
Several pikes raised above the others and I squinted to see the objects placed on top, not quite close enough to make them out until …
“Oh my gods. No. No, no, no, no.”
