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old family stories it would seem.
    Wolf ducked inside the building, careful not to hit his head on the doorjamb. He and his countrymen were gifted with a height surpassing their Andarian brothers. It was useful in battle, but challenging when visiting neighboring countries. Stretching his senses into the building's shadows, Wolf waited for any sign of supernatural danger laying in wait. Nothing. The abbey was empty.
    He walked past several mess kits left behind by their owners. Rotting food abuzz with insect life confirmed his suspicions that the battle had taken place at least two weeks prior. The evidence about him suggested these seasoned men had been surprised in the middle of a meal. Since Leo's disappearance, Wolf had heard rumors of a new enemy from a distant land possessing the power to move about Andara undetected. The Jalora Legion was unable to confirm these reports. Now it would seem they had tentative proof.
    Wolf let his frustration bubble to the surface again. Valdeon's Chancellor would not embrace suspicions Julian D'Antoiné had somehow managed to ally with the unknown enemy. The bastard prince had something to do with his father's strange behavior. He was certain of it. The tragic deaths of Leo's other sons had been thoroughly investigated. Julian agreed to be questioned about their deaths. In fact, Wolf had conducted the interrogation personally. Something, however, had blocked Wolf's probing into Julian's mind. Some power he couldn't overcome had protected their primary suspect. It didn't take a great mental leap to follow the logical flow of clues. Julian was after the throne of Valdeon and was eliminating the obstacles in his way. He'd been very careful to hide his tracks. Wolf couldn't accuse the slithering little worm until he had proof.
    The fragrance of orange and spices drifted toward a stone stairwell. The distinctive smell was Leo's scent, given to him by the magic of the Altar the day he was anointed king. Wolf climbed the stairs, hunching within the suffocating space. The short climb took him to a second floor hall in which a single chamber had survived the ravages of time. Inside the cramped room was a small cot with a rickety crate next to it. A single candle still stood upon the makeshift table, its wax cascading down through the boards. It wasn't suitable accommodation for a king or a Jalora bishop, but both Leo and Wolf had slept in worse environments in their service to the legion.
    He gripped the silver encrusted belt hanging about his waist until the metal dug into his fingers. Releasing the belt again as his frustration eased, Wolf turned his attention to the base of the abandoned abbey. Crafted during the time of their ancestors, it had slowly fallen into rubble. Leo had managed to turn the crumbling ruin into a fortress. He was a gifted warrior and strategist — too gifted to be found unless his hunter had help.
    Resting a hand on the brittle stone railing at the edge of the small patio, he breathed in the scent of sweet grass below. Rays of fading light from the setting sun shimmered into the depths of the blue stone upon his finger. The image of a wolf’s head shifted slightly to face the sun and then returned its eternal gaze back upon its ranger. He took a breath and let his hands drop to his side. It seemed all of Andara was waiting for Wolf to find Leo. He was, after all, a Lord of Valdeon and third-in-command of the Sacred Guard. Who but the elite ranger and long-time friend would their missing king turn to for aid?
    Leo had come to him in secret during the darkest hour of the night a year earlier. He'd been injured. Wolf remembered the steady stream of blood dripping in the nursery of his hacienda in San Rudalfo. Angered their king would endanger his family by leading an enemy to their door, Wolf had not greeted him warmly. Leo's mysterious behavior, his long absences, and disregard for his duties had driven a rift between the two of them. Indeed, Julian's unchecked behavior