Rachel Aaron - Spirit’s End

“And this surprises you?” The Lord of Storms’ face fell into a disgusted sneer. “I was never more than a sword to her. A sword has no use in a world of peace.”

“She cut you loose!” Eli cried. “After all those years, all you did for her.” He clutched his head with his hands, amazed that he could hate the Shepherdess more than he already did. “But—” He almost couldn’t get the words out. “Why are you here, then? Why are you still working as her guard? You should be—”

“This is my purpose!” the Lord of Storms roared. “I was bound together for one reason, to guard the world against the demon that lies beneath that mountain. For that I lost my names, my autonomy, lost everything but the purpose that binds me. And though the Shepherdess breaks all oaths and turns her back on the world, I will not be forsworn.” He lifted his sword higher, training the point on Eli’s heart. “So long as a spark of lightning flashes within me, I will serve my purpose!”

Eli cursed loudly. He was scrambling his brain for an argument powerful enough to make the man-shaped ball of thunderclouds see reason when he felt a hand grip his arm hard. Josef pulled him close, nearly taking him off his feet in the process.

“We don’t have time for this,” Josef whispered low. “I’ll handle him. You need to go. Now.”

Eli scrambled against the swordsman’s grip. “But—”

“Nico!” Josef barked. “Take him up.”

“Hold on now!” Eli shouted, but Nico’s arms were already around his waist. The last thing he saw was Josef lifting the Heart of War, and then the world vanished as Nico pulled him into the dark.

Josef set his feet in the snow, watching the Lord of Storms warily. The Heart was roaring through him, heightening his senses to a level he’d never felt before. He could feel each snowflake as it flew by, each icy stone holding up the snowdrift under his boots. He could taste the storm on the wind, smell the ozone smell of the Lord of Storms’ fury. He dropped into a crouch, legs ready to jump after the League Commander the second he moved, but the Lord of Storms stayed put at the valley’s edge, his sword waiting in his hands.

“Aren’t you going after them?” Josef said.

The Lord of Storms shook his head. “I no longer have the strength to step onto the Dead Mountain.”

Josef clenched his jaw. All that posturing, and they could have just gone around.

“But I do have the strength to stop you,” the Lord of Storms said, his face breaking into a deadly smile. “Your demon is gone and the veil does not open this close to the Mountain, so even though I don’t have the energy left to rip my gift from her, the Spiritualist behind you will be of no use. You have no way forward save through me, and I will not let you turn back.” He held out his free arm, beckoning Josef forward. “Come, Josef Liechten, Master of the Heart of War. Let’s finish our duel before the demons finish it for us.”

Josef raised his eyes to the black slope of the Dead Mountain. Nico and Eli were on it somewhere, but he couldn’t see them. He let his eyes drift up farther still to the sharp peak at the very top. It stood bold and dark against the late-afternoon sky, free of haze or cloud. That made sense, he supposed. Even mad, spirits knew better than to approach the demon’s den.

Though he’d never been close enough to see it clearly before, Josef smiled at the peak like an old friend. He knew the folds of its crags better than he knew his own face. It was the peak that had filled his mind when he’d cut the Lord of Storms, the peak that had been the beacon to lure him back from death. Though the stone above him was black now instead of the white he saw in the Heart of War’s memory, the sight of it stilled his mind and sharpened his purpose. He would end things here, in the shadow of his sword’s former self.

Clutching the Heart in his hands, Josef stepped into first position, his boots sinking into the deep snow. But as he readied his body for the blow, he felt the Spiritualist dismounting behind him, whispering to her rings like she was getting ready to fight as well.

“Back off,” he said, his voice harsh.

The Spiritualist froze behind him, and through his heightened senses he felt her take a breath to argue. “Shut up, back away, and don’t interfere,” he snapped. “This is my fight.”

The commands only made her bristle, but the announcement that this was his battle seemed to stop her cold. All at once, her presence vanished, and he glanced over his shoulder to see she had moved back to the center of the valley, taking her dog with her.

Good, he thought. Pushy, annoying, and overbearing as she was, Miranda was a brave soldier of her order. Josef would hate to see her die.

“Come,” the Lord of Storms said, his voice booming over the raging winds.

Clutching his sword, Josef obeyed. He launched himself at the Lord of Storms, and as his feet slammed into the snow, the image of the Heart’s peak filled his mind. With the real thing hanging against the gray sky above him, it was easier than ever. He swung with a roar, meeting the Lord of Storms’ sword with such force that the ground trembled under their feet.

The blades met with a crash. Met and held, the Lord of Storms bracing with both hands against the Heart’s onslaught. Josef braced as well and shoved back, pitting his strength against the League Commander’s. The seconds ticked by as the blades edged back and forth, grinding against each other in a stalemate. Sweat began to pour down Josef’s face, but he refused to let up the pressure. This time he was going to make the Lord of Storms break the lock and step back. This time the League man would be on defense while Josef attacked, slicing away his clouds until nothing was left but clear air.

The Lord of Storms’ face was only inches away from his own. Josef snarled over the crossed blades, trying to bait him, but the man’s silver eyes were unnaturally calm. His hair was entirely storm now, a black mass of rolling clouds streaked with lightning. The cut in his chest was widening as well, the black coat unraveling into vapor. The smell of ozone was stronger than ever, but the lightning bolts flashing inside the wound were not as numerous as they once had been.

The longer the stalemate dragged on, the larger the hole in the Lord of Storms’ chest grew until his entire lower torso was nothing but cloud. The storm was creeping up his neck beneath the high collar of his black coat now, but the Lord of Storms didn’t seem to notice. He just kept staring at Josef over their crossed swords with those uncharacteristically calm eyes. And then, with an ear-splitting crack, the Lord of Storms’ blue-white blade snapped.

The Heart surged forward, carrying Josef through the fading arc of the Lord of Storms’ broken blade. Weaponless, the commander held out his arms, welcoming the Heart of War as it plunged toward the rolling clouds of his open chest. Josef’s eyes widened, and then, with a move that made his head ache, he threw away the vision of the mountain and spun hard, breaking his momentum with a snap.

He felt his will lurch, and his body lurched with it, slamming to a stop. Josef skid to a stop inside the Lord of Storms’ guard with the Heart of War’s edge just touching the swirling clouds of the Lord of Storms’ wound. He stood panting for a moment, centering himself before he dared look up. Above him, the Lord of Storms’ face was open and betrayed.

“Go on!” he growled, the words fading into thunder. “Finish it!”

Josef stepped back, lowering the Heart to his side. “No.”

The Lord of Storms lurched, grabbing Josef by the shoulders. His grip felt more like rain than flesh now, but it was still strong enough to make Josef wince as the League Commander dragged him close.