Greywolf

  "You look worried.”

  Sitting on the ruin of an old altar in front of the dead, grey tree, Greywolf was watching the stars beginning to show themselves as he waited for War-leader Kula to give the signal. As Fox joined him on the weathered stone, he shrugged. "I'm just hoping Wysper's alright. If she's already lost her hands—”

  "It won't be your fault," Fox said, cutting him off. "This is the last night of the festival, and according to Domina, it's the only good chance of pulling this off. War-leader Kula's certainly run everyone ragged getting ready for it."

  "Don't I know it." Greywolf reached out and tugged on the new Artifact armor she was wearing, the hardened plates curved with the face of a wild boar on each one. "Nice armor. Did someone with the Crimson Horde make it for you?"

  Fox hesitated. "Promise you won't be jealous?" That was odd, coming from a Daemo, but Greywolf nodded his head yes and she blurted out, "Prince Varsena. He transmuted the plates, then had his crafters measure me and put it together before presenting it to Domina in front of Prince Timur. Evidently, among the People when a prince gives a gift to another prince’s vassal, the second prince’s obligated to give the first prince a gift as well. When Prince Timur asked what Prince Varsena wanted, he replied that a night with me was more than enough. Prince Timur made light of it, telling his younger brother all he needed to do was ask. But later, Argat told me Prince Varsena wanted to sleep with the Daemo Shadow-walker before his older brother did as a way of needling him. There's no love lost between the brothers."

  "I know how Varsena feels." Listening to the way she talked, Greywolf couldn’t help but smile. "Do you know you're the first Daemo I've ever met who doesn't talk like a noble lady."

  She flashed him a pearl white grin. "Blame Domina. The Rune sword influences us to want to please her, and she likes me better when I talk this way." The smile slipped away from her face as she sighed. "She hates being called by that name. I wish I could call her by her old name, but the sword doesn't give us any choice. None of us have any choice at all." Greywolf opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but Fox spoke first. "How's the wound you got from the troll?"

  Greywolf shrugged. "It's faded to bruise marks without even a scar. Go back a moment. What did you mean about not having a choice? I mean, everyone has choices, even if there's reasons why you can't make them."

  Fox hesitated, then plunged forward. "It's because of the tattoos we were given. They—”

  "Fox," a deep male voice said, "Titan wants you with him now. It's almost time." Glancing up, the Gaul named Troll stood nearby with his Artifact great sword resting on his shoulder. Fox leaped to her feet and hurried away, the hulking man watching her go by before turning back towards Greywolf. "Our girl's really taken a shine to you since your mother whored you out to service her. I think little Fox's in love."

  Greywolf’s eyes narrowed. "You don't know shite about Daemo if you think they're capable of love."

  "And you don't know shite if you think she's an ordinary Daemo." He sauntered over, his manner easy, but his hand on the hilt of his sword was a white knuckled fist. "You don't know shite about any of us. Best you keep it that way."

  Greywolf rose to his feet. "Is that a threat?"

  He grinned, looking Greywolf in the eye and opening his mouth to speak as Amazonia's voice yelled, "Troll, get your ugly arse over here so we can get moving."

  "Yes, Domina," he called over his shoulder, still grinning as he looked back at Greywolf. "Remember what I just told you, Shadow-walker." He turned and jogged away. Troll’s always going to hate you, so ignore him. Instead, Greywolf concentrated on the column of armored men standing in three separate groups.

  The first were the Khanda swordsmen, seasoned fighters in thick leather armor with metal plates riveted into the material, steel swords in their right hands and large, round shields in their left, each shield covered in thin, red metal. Their helms were round and open faced, covering their necks with metal plates flaring outward at the bottom. Prince Timur was in the center with his Bloodguards and Amazonia's Chaldeans.

  Second were Tengri's Chosen, warriors that the shaman of the Eternal Sky had tapped to be a part of the group. They wore black leather covered in plates of Artifact and carried Artifact weapons. All those chosen from the Crimson Horde were bearing great axes, but those few chosen from the mercenaries carried weapons carved in the style of their homelands, wielding long swords or bladed spears, while five of them fought together with a sword in each hand. War-leader Kula and Titan stood in the center of that group, as did Karl, with Lys on his shoulder.

  Last were the eighty-five Xian mercenaries. They were exiles from the Empire of Xian, soldiers whose lord had rebelled against their emperor and lost, wearing armor of padded cloth with round metal discs sewn into the material and conical helms on their heads. Most of the mercenaries with the Crimson Horde carried normal weapons, yet these soldiers had Artifact crossbows which fired six bolts, one after another, before they had to be reloaded and re-cranked, which went much faster than ordinary crossbows that could only fired one bolt at a time. Captain Tang had told Greywolf he used to command more than three hundred crossbows, but even though Artifact was far lighter than steel, it was also more brittle, and no one outside of Xian knew how to make new crossbows.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The Khanda swordsmen opened their formation to let Troll in. A moment later a boy wearing Artifact armor and a full face Greek helm, who Greywolf had been told was Avitohol's blood brother, stepped out from the Chosen with a red battle flag in his hand, which he waved to tell him it was time. Greywolf waved back and the boy lowered his flag, rejoining his group as the Shadow-walker turned towards the dead tree. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Greywolf grasped an outstretched branch with both hands and used the concentrated power of the Grey to push outward with his mind.

  Color bled away from the world in an expanding circle as all smells disappeared, the trees and underbrush becoming shadowy images as the night sky turned a light shade of grey without moon or stars. Only the stones of the ruined temple remained.

  Greywolf had asked his papa once why the trees and animals not touching a person became shadows of themselves, when humans and the other races remained as they were when they entered the Grey, and Ghostdog said it was because all the worlds connected to the Shadowlands were one world, and all the races on all the worlds were really one race. Greywolf told him that made no sense and he laughed and taught his son an Ogri drinking game, which made no sense either, but was a great deal of fun.

  "Shadow Raptors!" Kula began shouting orders as Greywolf took off running towards the lead group, drawing his katana from its wooden sheathe with a soft hiss and running through the shadows of the trees and underbrush as if they didn’t exist.

  The Khanda's were already making a Turtle formation like the Etruscans used, their shields above their heads to protect them from the two Shadow Raptors swooping straight down towards them out of the grey sky. The Chosen were forming a Hedgehog, with weapons bristling like spines, while the mercenaries were supposed to form a Thorn Box, kneeling in a tight square with their short swords out and crossbows on the ground.

  Instead, they were milling around, several taking aim at the creature resembling a grey, hairless bird with a body as big as a pony's and an elongated head, as it passed over the first two groups and dove towards them. Ignore it, go after the one that's almost reached the leading edge of the Khandas. One of the warriors was looking his way; the man knelt down so Greywolf could use his shield like a step as he glanced to his left.

  It's already reached them! Sprinting, Greywolf leaped on the shield then onto the ordered rows of shields as he slashed at the grey wing filling his vision. The Artifact blade sheared through the grey membrane and bit deep into its tendons as the Shadow Raptor screamed. The creature slammed onto the shields then bounced off, still screaming as it hit the ground. Greywolf ran across the shields and into the air, one hand off the hilt for balance. Both of his sandals hit the ground as the Shadow Raptor attempted to launch itself into the sky.

  It floundered as it fell. Greywolf gripped the hilt with both hands again and slashed the other wing higher up, shearing through the fragile arm bones and wrinkled grey membrane. Off balance, it awkwardly lunged and he leapt backwards as the mouth filled with rows of razor sharp teeth snapped on empty air.

  It fell face down in front of Greywolf and he shoved the tip of his sword on the place where its neck bones met its body. "Move and I'll kill you."

  The Shadow Raptor went still as stone and he risked a fast glance towards his right. The first Shadow Raptor had one of the mercenaries in its claws and had lifted him above his fellows. It screamed as black bolts hit it... Wotan's blood, it just bit the man’s head off. The creature tried to swallow the head as the body fell to the ground.

  Greywolf knew it would spit the head out in a moment, as Shadow creatures cannot eat what they kill, so he turned his attention back to the monster under his sword. "Tell the others to leave us alone." It dug its claws into the ground and Greywolf put pressure on the sword tip. "Seven of you fell to my father's sword, and he taught me everything I know. Tell them to back off and leave us alone and I'll let you live." The Shadow Raptor's eyes blazed with hatred as it stared at him.

  Then it turned its head and gave a wordless cry, the first Shadow Raptor screaming back in what sounded like frustration, and he risked another glance. It held another mercenary in its claws.… Wait, it’s dropping him. The creature beat the air as it climbed its way into the sky, the mercenary dropping to the ground like a sack of beans. Greywolf looked back down at the second one and moved so it couldn’t easily snap at him. Then he leapt back and landed with his katana in a guard position. It lurched to its feet.

  Then turned and ran away. The first Shadow Raptor screamed again in frustration as it continued climbing into the sky to join two others circling the group like vultures, while the one dragging broken wings reached a point that Greywolf couldn’t easily get to before turning around and opening its mouth. "The next time you enter the Grey,” the creature hissed, “I will hunt you down and kill you."

  "Hunt me down and you'll end up as my first ghost raven, following me as my father's seven follow him." The Grey was already beginning to heal it, tendrils of mist in the air moving towards it like questing snakes that would rebuild its shattered bones and torn wings as it moved away from them once more.

  All at once Greywolf was trembling like a child. Papa told me the first time I led a group this big, I'd likely get an attack of nerves before I settled down. Greywolf knelt, not sure if his legs would hold him, his katana point first into the ground as he watched the maimed Shadow Raptor totter away. A large hand on his shoulder made him look up. "Told you there was nothing to worry about," Karl said in a cheerful voice.

  Then he looked towards the mercenaries and his eyes widened. "Odin's bones. I've heard this would happen if someone died in the Shadowlands, but I always thought it was a jest." Greywolf turned his head.

  The mercenaries were scattering as the headless body of the dead man stood up.