The Wolf Esprit: Lykanos Chronicles 3
Chapter Forty-Three

My mind felt the searing agony as Sempronio ripped Duccio’s left arm from his body, the savage pain raising my blood pressure. Duccio’s wolf had clutched the lifeless limb to his chest with his surviving right arm and ran away into the night.

I stared at him, realizing his arm remained attached. I’d fallen asleep on his chest, cradled by that arm for months.

Duccio offered a wistful smile and said, “A temporary suffering. Once our wolves are released, our lycan bodies repair themselves in time, regardless of the injury, as you’ll remember from Toussaint’s dungeon.

“Near the border of our lands, I commandeered a human’s home that night and bound my limb back to my torso with a spool of cloth. Within a week, it healed into position, though it took months for the flesh to repair all signs of the damage. Father only did it to punish me, to make me suffer one last humiliation.”

“So, you ran to Sforza?”

“There was nowhere else to go,” Duccio answered quietly, his voice devoid of accusation. “I gathered myself as best I could, renting a room with money that I withdrew from my account in Cantu. When adequately attired, I took a carriage to Castello Forsezco in Milan to seek an audience with the Duke.

“It surprised him to see me, no doubt expecting Sempronio’s dismissal of his ambassador to be the end of the matter. And the more he listened to my recount, the more agitated he became with my failure. I told him I still wished to be his ally and would gladly marry one of his daughters and adopt his family name. The Duke scoffed at the idea, saying I was now nothing but a nameless princeling without a country.

“His sentiment echoed all my fears, and the recognition of what Father had done raged through me again.

“‘Lend me your army, sire,’ I pleaded. ‘I’ll return with his head—a gift to prove my worth to you.’

“‘Young fool,’ Sforza answered, and he dismissed me with a melancholy shake of his head.

“I spent most of the night unable to sleep, my thoughts burdened by anger and frustration. More to it, I lost faith in myself. I couldn’t see my path forward anymore. Who was I to be now without lands or safety? Too old to be a soldier in Sforza’s army, too ignoble to be a commander. Again, I felt the sting of what Father had done by casting me away and what I’d done by lying to him.

“But in the morning, Sforza summoned me back to his study. I found him with a fair-skinned man in a regal black doublet with hair as dark as mine but with deep brown eyes that appraised me with suspicion.

“‘Don Lupofiero, this is General Morosini, commander of my forces,’ Sforza said, and I offered both men a nod of respect. ‘After you left, I remembered something from long ago and asked the general to investigate it for me.’

“From several steps away, Sforza stared at an open glossy oak case on his desk. Lined with crimson velvet, it contained a plain-looking cutlass sword that appeared unworthy of such an ornamental case. The hilt was old and weathered, though the curved blade still appeared sharp enough to cut.

“‘Il Vuto,’ Sforza nodded, ‘a blade from my great grandfather’s time, six centuries past. If legend is to be believed, it is fashioned from the remains of a star that fell to earth in the Alps. It appears like common iron, melts and molds the same, but it bears one extraordinary difference.’

“Sforza nodded to General Morosini, who stepped back, undressed quickly, and transformed into his wolf. Taken by the unexpected transformation, I struggled to keep my wolf from bursting through my clothes.

“’You should fear him,’ Sforza said, catching my attention, ‘but only if you fail me again.’

“He stepped forward and reached for the sword, lifting it out of the case. He stared at it for a moment until he proceeded around the desk to advance on me, stopping only when he’d brought the blade to my chest.

“I did everything not to react, unsure how my recently mended arm would serve me in a fight. I knew Sforza couldn’t have meant to strike me, but Morosini’s wolf in the far corner placed me at such a disadvantage that I struggled to make sense of the moment.

“Sforza gave a quiet laugh. It was not at my expense, and I soon realized this when a strange change made itself known to me. I couldn’t hear Sforza’s mind at all, nor Morosini’s.

“’Whatever this metal is composed of, it neutralizes our mental power, so much so that I cannot even hear your thoughts. More important, the faculties of my mind have become irrelevant. I am powerless as I hold it in my hand. Indeed, we are mortal men again while in the sword’s presence.’

“I stared at the blade, incredulous of what he said. I summoned my power and attempted to cast the sword away, but nothing happened. In a panic, I called my wolf but realized I could not hear his savage growl. He was gone—where he resided in my mind was a numb, impotent space.

“‘My eyes tell me you understand what I say is true,’ Sforza said when I huffed. ‘There lies a permanent void around the sword. My only advantage against you now is that it’s in my hand, aside from what General Morosini might do you with his talons before the sword paralyzes his wolf.’

“I looked back to the general, who I suspected could disembowel me before his talons might recede.

“‘Sempronio might know of this blade’s existence. Which of us could fathom the breadth of knowledge in his ancient mind? But I’m certain he’s never seen it with his eyes, at least not in so long that he would easily recognize it. It came to my great grandfather from another land, and your father would have no reason to suspect it’s been in our vaults all these centuries.’

“Sforza lowered the sword from my chest and replaced it in the oaken case before stepping away.

“‘Do you feel it, Duccio? It is not a lingering paralysis—I feel all my power, even my wolf’s growl again the moment I’m out of the sword’s void.’

“I’d felt the same even before he spoke. It was as if the sword were not poison to infect us but a blanket that momentarily blinded us.

“‘Any warrior who I might send with the sword to slay Sempronio could never get within a hundred paces of him. And the stellar metal would not affect his powers in less than five feet. The finest assassin could never accomplish such a thing. You know this to be true. Not against il Padrino.’

“Sforza sighed and stepped up to me. He raised his hand and ran his thumb gently across my jaw as he held my face.

“‘But his son might. A son who returned to his father and begged on his knees for the man’s forgiveness. He might replace himself forgiven and taken into the man’s arms.’

“I stared at Sforza, hardly able to collect my thought as my mind swam at the inference. It was all too much to consider, even for one who’d arrogantly begged just the night before to borrow his army to attempt the same.

“‘With il Vuto in your hand, you’ll face only a frail old man. If you truly meant what you said last night, there is no better way to accomplish your means. Take it and go. The General will escort you there as a backup to ensure your siblings don’t threaten you after it’s done. Return here to me with the master’s head, and I’ll name you my child and heir. You’ll have all I’ve promised and more.’

“A sense of peace came over me in the speechless silence that followed his words. It was a relief from the weeks of despair and bitterness. I felt Sforza had offered the only actual solution to my struggle. I’d be the one to take revenge against Father for what he’d done. More than anything, I’d be the one to open the door for the rest of my family to the outside world.

“‘But don’t mistake me, boy,’ Sforza added. ‘Should you choose to betray me—should you replace you’ve not the stomach to take back what’s yours—this will not end with a genteel wave goodbye. Sempronio will surely destroy my army, but maybe not before your siblings and wife fall to their talons. Whatever the result, be certain that I will never forgive you. And remember, my beautiful Duccio, that your father cannot live forever.’

“Sforza kissed me on both cheeks to bid me farewell. I then took his hand to my lips to swear my allegiance.”