Chapter 10 Coward’s Mind, Warrior’s Heart #3
“M-Me?” he stuttered, bewildered. What could their Chief possibly want to see him for?
“Yes,” she answered patiently. “Do you have time?”
“Of course.” Who was he to turn down a request from Chief Restrina? “I should probably…um, clean up?” he looked down at his soot-stained clothes and the darkening patches of sweat.
Sehleh waved him off. “That isn’t necessary. She appreciates the efforts of hard work.”
As he followed Sehleh through the camp, he fiddled with his hair, his clothes. Anything to make himself more presentable.
The last time he’d seen the chief was on the battlefield. In the heat of fighting, he hadn’t seen Osmond pull her off, and she’d been sequestered as she healed. His only connection to her were the times he spent with Ridan.
Walking in a daze, he allowed the short beta to lead him on.
Her head barely came up to his chest, but she had a comforting confidence he leaned into.
Not for the first time, he wondered if the doughy scent of baking bread that followed her around was her own, or a byproduct of her excellent cooking abilities.
She didn’t lead him to the same tent as the night he brought Corric back, but the one he’d first met with the clan in.
Unlike that night, there was no group of advisors. Stepping into the space, his eyes took a moment to adjust from the bright afternoon light to the dim lighting of just a few candles. The heavy leather flap closed behind him, and he turned to see that Sehleh hadn’t followed him in.
Swallowing nervously, he suddenly felt like he’d stumbled into the den of a predator.
The predator was sitting before him. Where once stood an alpha brimming with confidence, miles of tanned skin and muscles to back it up, was a shell of a woman.
She’d lost so much weight she was nearly unrecognizable.
Had Brune not spent so much time looking into Ridan’s eyes, he might have questioned if this woman was Chief Restrina at all.
But there was no denying those eyes, Ridan’s eyes, staring at him from under heavy lids.
Her weapon had been replaced by a thick blanket. The scent made him want to turn tail and run. His alpha balking at the potent stench of decay and sickness. He locked his knees and refused to show weakness.
“Brune Son of Somebody.” Her voice was hoarse, but there was still a commanding note. Something that made him duck his head in reverence. When he looked back up, she had a small smile on her pale face.
“Henroen tells me you have a strong arm,” she continued, eyes drifting across Brune like she was appraising a horse for purchase. “And that my pups have grown quite fond of you.”
He couldn’t help but smile a little at that. Ridan would probably complain if he heard her call him a pup.
Before she could speak again, she began to cough. Brune reached for the jug of water on the table, pouring it into a mug before handing it to her. Fearing for her failing strength, he helped hold the cup to her trembling lips.
“You are kind,” she rasped once she’d stopped coughing, water glistening on her pallid lower lip. “That’s good. He will need that.”
She was staring at the corner where a cluster of dust covered trunks were piled on top of each other.
Brune set the cup down, waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he cleared his throat. “Who?”
Ignoring him, she rested a hand on the arm of the chair. “How much do you know of our people’s history?”
Trying to follow, Brune shook his head. “Not much. Just what I was told as a child in Kaledonea.”
She hummed; eyes still locked on whatever it was she was seeing.
“When Artrax battled Sinestrus, our ancestors stood with him. Just some frail humans, with no magic in their veins, ready to fight beside the strongest of dragons. For that, he blessed us. Gave us a life.” Finally, those eyes turned to him, bright with something he didn’t yet understand.
“But he wasn’t the only one who gave us a gift. ”
Lifting her hand, she pointed toward the corner. Brune followed it, moving before she could command him to. Finally, he saw what had caught her eye.
Behind the crates was something tall, leaning against the wall and wrapped in furs. Pushing past the crates, he blew dust off the black fur, brushing it aside to see a corner of…something. He recognized rivets embedded in leather. Intrigued, he hefted the thing from where it had been stored.
The length of his torso it was heavy. His injured arm protested as he lifted it, muscles shaking from exertion, but he was determined. Setting the bundle by his feet, he pushed the furs off. They fell in a heavy heap, age billowing off it in a swirl of dust.
Flat on top with a pointed bottom, the shield was edged in tough black leather held in place by brass rivets. While the shape, size, and leatherwork were impressive, it was the center of the shield that caught his eye.
Made of a deep burgundy, the face of the shield shimmered in the low light.
Even covered in dust, it seemed to luster.
Brune’s fingertips skimmed across the surface, bumping over the small ridges fixed into the face.
It was so beautiful he found himself scarcely able to breathe for fear he would somehow damage it.
“The Maladon’s Aegis,” Restrina said quietly, her voice hushed and reverent.
It took a moment for it to click, but suddenly Brune was gasping as he realized just what it was he was looking at—dragon scales! The shield was covered in red dragon scales.
Even the children of Kaledonea knew the story of Maladon Steel Scaled—one of the few dragons who stayed beside Artrax and fought with, and for, humanity.
He was said to have scales so thick, they could not be pierced by magic nor claw.
So heavily armored, the earth shook as the dragon walked, and when he lifted in flight, the gusts of wind from his wings could crack granite.
In the final battle with Sinestrus, Maladon Steel Scaled shielded the Clansmen, and Artrax as they fought. He stood strong. Even when Sinestrus’s magic stripped him of his wings, he dug his massive claws into the rock and refused to budge.
“After Artrax fell, Maladon Steel Scaled ripped off some of his own scales to give to the remaining humans. To be our shield when he could not,” Restrina explained. “My ancestors had them forged into the Maladon’s Aegis.”
Brune’s mouth was dry as he stared down at the shield. It was plain, no filigree needed when the shield itself glowed with an inner fire. When it shifted and the light caught on the scales, red cascaded across its surface in a wave of shades he’d never seen.
“Can you lift it?”
He truly didn’t know. Pulling it from where it had been stored was a far cry from wielding it. Running his arm through the thick leather loops affixed on the back of the shield, he braced his legs and lifted.
Locking the shield in close to his chest, his entire body trembled with the effort.
The shield was heavy—in a mortal sense and in that it radiated an awesome kind of power, a responsibility that bellowed through time as if the scales themselves were holding onto the prowess of the dragon they’d been ripped from.
Brune could almost feel it. The strength it took Maladon Steel Scaled to hold, to stand fast when his wings were torn from him, blood pouring down his back as he screamed in pain.
His heart proved stronger. Fortifying him with every beat, knowing that if he fell—all would be lost. And even after he’d given more than enough, he still gave more, plucking his own scales to leave behind.
Restrina’s breath was ragged, her eyes bright as she watched him hold the shield aloft. “No one has ever been able to…” she trailed off, breathlessly. “They said only a man as immovable as Maladon himself could wield it.”
He almost didn’t hear her, so entranced by the shield. But her words filtered through, and he set the shield down, sweat prickling the back of his neck as he stared at her.
“Be their shield, Brune.”
“I’m not—” he shook his head, feeling at a loss. “I’m not worthy of such a gift.”
“Then become worthy,” she said. “Let the weight of that shield be your compass on your path to becoming the man who protects the Stone Blade with his warrior’s heart.”
Swallowing thickly, he didn’t know what to say. How could he accept this responsibility disguised as a gift?
But…how could he not?
When the shield was still firmly clasped in his shaking hands, when the weight had already become familiar to him, when the thought of laying the shield down and walking away felt like peeling his skin off.
As he ran his fingers over the smooth edges of the scales, it all ceased to matter.
His birth, his upbringing, his indecisions—all of it brought him here. To these people, to this shield.
Divine intervention.
Lifting his chin, he met Chief Restrina’s eye. There were no words shared. Maybe if Brune felt like he could speak, he’d thank her. He’d tell her that she was an alpha among alphas. That she had changed his life. But he didn’t.
Understanding dawned between them, and she nodded once, that same brightness glinting in her eyes.
Hefting the shield, Brune stepped back out into the sunshine. A crowd had gathered—no doubt Derry had spread the word of his summons. When they saw the shield, a hush fell over the clan. Whispers rushed around him like buzzing bees. Looking up, Brune caught sight of Ridan.
He was standing with a shocked Jonen and Corric. Unlike the others, Ridan wasn’t staring at the shield. He was looking at Brune.
In that moment, Brune knew he’d been wrong. Ridan’s eyes were nothing like Restrina’s. They were unlike anything he’d ever seen before, and somehow, even more beautiful than the shield weighing down his arm.
Chief Restrina’s words rung in his ear.
I will be worthy. Of this shield, and so much more.