nothing, and he looked up to see a looming shadow standing directly in front of them.
The Lord of Storms stood at the edge where the valley snows met the Dead Mountain’s bare slope. His sword was naked in his hands, and his face was set in a look of murderous determination. His long hair flew madly behind him, the strands fading in and out between solid black and swirling clouds, the same swirling clouds that churned at the edges of the enormous hole that ran from his shoulder to his hip, cutting his chest almost in half.
Josef pushed Nico behind him, but the Lord of Storms wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were on Eli, and the hatred in them made him cringe.
“You will not pass, thief,” the Lord of Storms said, his voice rumbling. He raised his sword, the glowing blade sliding through the wind with a screaming whistle. “Go back to your Shepherdess or die with the rest of us, your choice, but none of you will set foot on the demon’s prison while I can lift a sword.”
Eli wasn’t a violent man, but it took every ounce of self-control he had right then not to punch the Lord of Storms in the face. There couldn’t be more than twenty minutes remaining in the hour before the shell broke. He did not need this. But even when he was nearly cut in half, attacking the Lord of Storms was suicidally stupid, and so, optimistic fool that he was, Eli decided to take a long shot and try reason.
“Listen. You. Idiot,” he said, spitting out each word. “Have you looked at the sky with those eyes of yours? Do you know what’s happening?”
The Lord of Storms’ look grew black as his storm clouds. “Better than you do, human.”
“Then why are you here?” Eli shouted. “And why are you still injured? You should be off laughing it up with Benehime in paradise. Oh, let me guess, you told her you’d rather die making our lives difficult than spend eternity blowing around her little fishbowl with nothing to do.”
The Lord of Storms didn’t answer. He just stood there, sword raised, his body shifting between cloud and solid like he was barely holding himself together. The icy wind howled around them, tugging the clouds away from the Lord of Storms’ wound. It was a strange, unsettling sight, and Eli couldn’t shake the feeling he was watching the storm bleed out right in front of them. As the icy silence stretched on, a creeping realization formed in Eli’s mind, and suddenly he was looking at the Lord of Storms in an entirely different light.
“She didn’t offer to heal you, did she?” Eli said quietly, the words barely audible over the wind and the distant screams of the spirits.
The Lord of Storms’ glare didn’t waver, and his voice was as sharp as the sword in his hand when he answered. “There’s no need for storms in paradise.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Eli shouted. “After five thousand years of absolute loyalty, after you brought her the demonseed she used to kill the Hunter, she abandons you now?”
“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.
