The Magehound   ::   Каннингем Элейн

It was a cruel defense, one Matteo hated using,but he knew of no other way to stop the wizard's magical offensive short of killing him.

The necromancer howled in pain and fury, a lingering sound that rose in pitch to become an eerie wail. He fell away, backing off from the jordain and quite literally shrinking as he retreated.

He also began to change. Bones creaked and popped as they took new form. His nose bulged, then snapped outward into a long muzzle. His robes fell away, and white hair sprouted from his pallid skin. In moments the wizard's human shape was entirely gone, replaced by that of a lean and ghostly wolf.

It was a reasonable strategy, one that Matteo had anticipated. Although the wizard's spellcasting was finished for quite some time by the injury to his hand, any necromancer of power kept several spells at the ready, magic that could be activated without word or gesture. And now, as a wolf, the wizard would not need magic to attack.

Apparently he'd also had the foresight to unleash magic designed to leave Matteo vulnerable to fang and claw. As the jordain raised his daggers into guard position, he noted that the tips were beginning to glow with heat. He quickly tossed them aside, steeling himself to do what he would have to do.

The ghostly wolf's lips curled, baring preternaturally long, sharp fangs and an expanse of blackened gums. The creature snarled and crouched for the spring.

Matteo timed his defense, then leaped forward to meet the wolf-wizard. He spun on one foot and kicked out high and hard with the other as the creature rose to the apex of its leap.

His booted foot caught the creature squarely in the chest. He danced back as the wolf dropped to the ground, a look of human surprise on its pale face. But no breath stirred the great white chest, and the wolf-wizard never uttered another sound. The heart stopped on impact and would never beat again.

Numbly Matteo watched as the wolf slowly melted back into human form. If possible, the waxen, white body of the wizard seemed even more inhuman than the abandoned wolf shape.

He was aware of Tzigone edging close. The girl prodded the still figure with a tentative foot, then touched her fingers to the silence pulse on the necromancer's white neck. She rose and stared at Matteo, her eyes huge.

"You killed him," she said incredulously. "With one kick, you killed him."

"I could have stopped him without great injury had he permitted me the daggers," Matteo said shortly, mistaking her astonishment for disapproval.

In truth, he was far more stunned than Tzigone by the ease of the man's death.