Page 87 of Lord of the Lone Wolf
“This isn’t possible,” he panted, trembling with fatigue. “No magic is this strong.”
Before Maseo could respond, someone severed Junbe’s head from his shoulders in a single clean stroke.
The bear shifter’s body collapsed to the ground, blood spraying everywhere. Behind him stood Valdrion.
Maseo stared in stunned disbelief, unable to comprehend what he had witnessed. The variform shifter’s face was unreadable, his gaze meeting Maseo’s with intensity.
“Why?” Maseo asked in shock. It was twice as confusing because of their complicated history. The commander had trained Maseo to be a skilled fighter, but their relationship had always been strained since Maseo had been romantically involved with Valdrion’s younger sister, Phaedra, before becoming Kio’s partner.
Valdrion wiped his blade clean with practiced efficiency, his movements betraying centuries of experience. When he spoke, his voice was flat and matter-of-fact. “Junbe was a disgrace to the uniform. His death was overdue.”
“But you killed one of your men to save me,” Maseo said, reeling from the sudden intervention.
“I killed a rapist who abandoned his post to settle a personal grudge.” Valdrion’s ice-blue eyes were cold as winter. “Military discipline exists for a reason.”
Maseo studied the man standing before him for any hint of the ruthless commander who had once drilled him in the training yards. “You could have let him kill me. It would have been easier.”
“Easier doesn’t make it right. You chose a side that doesn’t traffic in abominations against nature. That shows better judgment than I credited you with.”
“You hate what my father has become.”
Valerian’s jaw tightened. “Nasume has perverted everything the army once stood for. Necromancy is a corruption that poisons the very ground it touches. It is a darkness that should have stayed buried in the shadows of Blightmare Vale.”
“Then why stay? Why not defect like I did?”
Valdrion’s laugh was bitter and short. “Because someone needs to bear witness to his crimes and remember what honor looked like before he destroyed it.” His expression hardened. “I’ll ensure that when his reckoning comes, it’s thorough.”
Maseo opened his mouth to press further, but Valdrion was already stepping back.
“Fight well, Maseo.” He paused, his expression softening by the barest fraction. “Take heart in knowing your mother would have been proud of the choice you made.”
Valdrion turned and disappeared into battle, leaving Maseo staring after him with a dozen new questions burning in his mind.
“Talk about unexpected,” Bitris remarked, appearing at Maseo’s side. “And here I was, all ready to play the hero and save you again.”
Maseo glanced over at the dragon shifter, trying to process what had happened. “Why would Valdrion kill his own soldier to protect me?” He had explained it, but it still didn’t make sense to Maseo.
“I’m not sure, but I’m not a fan of the competition,” Bitris joked.
“Bitris, stop flirting and keep fighting,” Drayden called as he passed by, his sword slick with blood. “We’ve got more lichen incoming.”
Bitris rolled his eyes but readied his weapon. “Duty calls. Don’t get yourself killed while I’m gone. I’d hate to explain to His Majesty how I let his favorite half-shifter get skewered.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Maseo smiled. “I’ll do my best.”
They separated again, each returning to the chaos of battle. Maseo soon faced another lichen, which wore the remnants of what might have once been ceremonial armor. Time and the elements had carved away much of the breastplate’s detail.
He engaged the skeleton, which fought with a style he didn’t recognize. Its movements were fluid yet precise, as if the warrior it had once been had trained in an art long forgotten.
Maseo adapted, matching the skeleton’s rhythm and looking for an opening to strike at the glowing soul. He feinted left, drawing the lichen’s guard in that direction, then spun right, his sword slicing through the air toward the skeleton’s unprotected side.
The lichen pivoted to block, but the movement left a gap in its defense. Maseo didn’t waste the opportunity. He reversed his grip and thrust his sword through the opening into the glowing green orb. The soul flared, then dimmed, the skeleton collapsing into a pile of bones and armor that disintegrated.
A movement on top of the fortress walls caught Maseo’s attention. A cloaked figure stood there, arms raised to the heavens, revealing bony fingers.
The sky above the castle darkened, clouds swirling in an unnatural pattern. Green lightning crackled, illuminating the roiling darkness from within. The air grew heavy, charged with magical energy that raised the hair on Maseo’s arms.
A sound pierced the air, a roar that seemed to contain a thousand voices screaming in agony. It rattled the bones on the battlefield, sending wolf shifters and Valzerna soldiers alike to their knees, hands clasped over their sensitive ears to block out the terrible noise.
