Greywolf

  The white stone platform rose shoulder level above the people, with stairs on all four sides leading down to the plaza's paved stones. Bald priests in robes a golden yellow color stood at the bottom of the steps, giving out tiny leather bags to those lined up in front of them, while other priests were crouched down at the platform's corners, placing onto outstretched hands pieces of glowing red... are those corn kernels? I think they are. A space opened up closer to the platform and Greywolf moved towards it.

  All of the priests were average sized except for the one in the center, who was taller than Greywolf and had broad shoulders. Around him stood bare chested, muscular fat men, wearing black trousers and wide red sashes around their waists. Each sash held a large scimitar tucked in tight.

  Another priest seemed to be in charge of a large sack of this red corn, while three priestesses stood in a group on Greywolf’s side of the platform. The three didn't have the look of the local people; instead, they reminded Greywolf of those from the northern Celtic tribes, their skin pale as milk despite the sun. Two of them had hair like spun gold, one older and matronly, the other much younger, with the hint of plumpness other men found beautiful. The third...

  Breath caught in his throat. She was lean, the bones of her face standing out from her skin casting shadows, giving her a starkness the others lacked. Then she smiled and the starkness of her face softened as the last of the sun's warmth touched Greywolf’s face. Unlike all the others, she wore a simple white dress with red embroidery, with a heavy gold choker around her throat and gold at her wrists. Although he couldn’t see her ankles, she likely had gold on them as well, for that metal absorbed the different magics most mages wield, while keeping her from using magic of her own. The mage-slaves of the old Etruscan Empire always wore shackles of gold.

  Her blood red hair meant she was natural born magi with the power to preserve and strengthen both her own body and other’s, while the golden braids at her temples gave her some ability to heal. Thanks to Asena, Greywolf could sharpen his vision at need, and as her gaze met his, he could tell her eyes were the color of sapphires sparkling in the sun.

  She reared back with her mouth becoming an O of surprise. Did I do something to startle her? Quick, hold up the lemon so she can see it... yes, her smile's returning. Greywolf gave her a grin and with his other hand, pointed at the lemon. Her face grew puzzled. I don't think I'm offending her, but she might not understand the custom. Then he realized she did understand, for she pointed at the younger priestess beside her. She made a motion as if giving the lemon to the other priestess. Greywolf shook his head, pointed at the lemon, then pointed at her.

  Her delighted expression was the sun chasing away dark clouds. There was too much noise to hear anything she said, but she turned towards the other two priestesses as if asking permission. The younger one looked at Greywolf and her face lit up as well, both of them turning toward the older priestess like children wheedling treats from their mother as they motioned in his direction.

  The older priestess looked at Greywolf and scowled. The faces of the younger ones fell as she scolded them, which he recognized even without being able to hear what was said. Then the matronly priestess looked at him and made a shooing motion, as if Greywolf were a beggar at the door. The younger priestess shrugged as if to say, 'Oh well', and went back to looking at the crowd, but the red haired priestess looked back at him. Her smile vanished and the expression on her face wasn't sad so much as haunted.

  Greywolf jumped a little as an old man in multicolored robes patted him on the arm. "We've all been watching you and Blood-Wysper," he said in Greco, his voice sounding sympathetic as he motioned towards others in the crowd looking his way, "and we wish it could've been otherwise. After everything she's done for us, she deserves to be kissed by a fellow Celt." He translated for the others and they nodded, speaking with equally sympathetic tones as they spoke to him in their flowing language. Greywolf turned towards the platform.

  Blood-Wysper was looking at him, but everyone else on the platform had their attention somewhere else. Now’s my chance. "Who said she won't be," he told the old man with a wink as he opened a gateway into the Shadowlands and stepped through.

  Shite, Asena's going to kill me but I don't care. The crowd became detailed shadows like finely crafted statues, their movements reduced to a snail's pace since time ran so much faster in the Grey, and Greywolf did a complete circle, looking for threats. A Shadow Raptor soared far off above the palace, traveling away from the city, but he knew that even if it banked and spotted him, creatures of the Shadowlands felt intense pain whenever they passed through the shadowy form of a living person. So remaining among a crowd was usually safe. Usually.

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  The old man's face was just beginning to register shock as Greywolf passed through him, heading towards the stairs. Running up the steps, he stopped in front of Blood-Wysper, then did another complete circle to make sure he didn't accidentally suck someone into the Shadowlands as he was leaving... though he was tempted to do it to the old woman who told Blood-Wysper no. He knew he’d never do that, of course, since it would be an evil act. But he was still tempted.

  Greywolf’s luck held as no one else was looking his way, so he pulled a clove off the lemon and stuck it on his tongue before opening a gate and stepping through. Blood-Wysper gasped as Greywolf wrapped his arms around her faster than thought, his actions always lightning quick for a few moments due to the time difference, and kissed her open mouthed. His tongue slid the clove onto hers before he stepped back. "Tradition demands I give this to the prettiest girl in Bukhara," he said with a smile, pressing the lemon into her hand. Then he tensed and got ready to spin around and return to the Grey.

  Blood-Wysper grabbed Greywolf by the shoulders and kissed him back. Shite, I know I'm in trouble but I don't care. Her hip bones ground against his as she pressed her body close, her tongue tasting of cloves as they continued to kiss. Around them, people gasped as a young woman's voice gave a delighted laugh, and he knew it would only be a moment before feeling a fat guard's hand on my shoulder. I need to leave but she needs me to stay, needs—

  Magical energy washed over Greywolf like an angry wave. He pushed her away and spun around as the tall priest whirled towards him, the man’s face enraged like a charging lion's as Greywolf leapt through the gate into the Grey. Color bled away from the world as he turned to look at the priest. Even though the man was only a detailed shadow, he could see a column of pale gold with an orange-red core like fire flaring up inside him. Oh shite, he's a Celestial pretending to be a priest!

  Celestials couldn't enter the Shadowlands unless they were in a place where a weak spot existed between the worlds, but Greywolf knew that if he didn't get moving, the Celestial would be able to track him. Running down the stairs and through the shadows of the crowd, he raced along the main road until reaching the alley with the drunken Direwolf sign, then he pelted down it until he reached the door. Greywolf leapt through it as a gate formed on the other side.

  “Oof!” He bounced off someone in armor, stumbled backwards and smacked against the door. "Apologies, I wasn't watching where I was going and—”

  The bells on the beaded curtain chimed wildly as Asena grabbed him by the front of his tunic. "You never opened the door," she growled, "and you were running. What have you done now?"

  The odor of wine rolled off her breath as she put her shaggy face close to his. Shite, I'm in trouble. "I just kissed a girl, honest. And someone got upset."

  Laughter erupted from the room on the right. Looking past her, the room had filled with men in armor and an armored African woman larger than most men. Is that Amazonia and her Wardogs? The back of the room was lost in shadow, but there was a shape even bigger than Asena hidden in the darkness. Could that be the Ogri, Titan? I can't tell. Asena shook him and Greywolf focused on her as she growled, "What girl and who got upset?"

  He swallowed hard. "Her name's Blood-Wysper and one of the priests—” Asena’s growl went deeper. "I gave her the clove-lemon and kissed her fast, but she grabbed onto me and wouldn't let go in time."

  "Nor did you want her to."

  "It's not my fault. She's got blue eyes... and freckles."

  Everyone else in the room was laughing except for Porthos, who walked up beside Asena holding a copper cup filled with red wine. "Greywolf, Asena's right; you do nothing by half-measures. Blood-Wysper is the one of the reasons Yun-Kax is no longer a minor deity in the Sasnayam pantheon of gods, but the principal one. As the story goes, Muzen had a rare Shadow-walker lead a raiding party into Britannia to steal away the three priestesses and the sacred discs used to create their blood-oats, which is much the same as the blood-corn he now distributes to us, and the people have come to depend on Yun-Kax to help them. Without Blood-Wysper, there would be no blood corn to distribute, and the practice of sacrificing young women on the altars would resume."

  Oh, shite. "Is this Muzen really tall?" Porthos nodded, and Greywolf’s face screwed up in a wince. "Shite, he thought I was trying to kidnap her. I swear, I only meant—”

  Asena picked Greywolf up and hurled him into the private room. A table filled with black armored mercenaries scrambled to grab their wine cups a moment before he slammed against the wooden table top and bounced into someone's lap. He shook his head, then looked up into the African woman's strong, scarred face. "Greywolf, what in Hades’ name is going on?"

  "Amazonia, you’re here. Ah, Asena's a little upset with me right now."

  "Upset?" Looking up just over the edge of the table, Asena was stalking towards Greywolf with her dark hair bristling. "I'm going to bounce you off these walls until I shake some sense—”

  The front door of the inn banged open. "Where is the Shadow-walker," a deep male voice snarled. Greywolf sat up, still on Amazonia's lap as the bald priest Muzen stalked into the room. "You will deliver him to me now."