Amazonia
The Daemo dancers had taken up their position among the illusionary red rocks, the three Daemo Princes behind them, while the humans stood among the pillars with the gods at their backs. Everyone’s weapon was at the ready as the narrator spoke. “And so it was that the Underworld and the Heavens made ready their forces.” A single Daemo and a single human split off from the others, met beside the apple tree as the musicians began playing, and began a synchronized sword dance as the narrator said, “At first, the clashes were mere skirmishes.” One by one, a dancer from each side went towards the center and met their counterpart as the narrator added, “But as the years wore on into decades and decades became centuries, the fighting grew fierce, with neither the gods nor the Daemo Princes backing down.”
As more dancers entered the fray, the music grew in intensity as the drumming deepened the beat. Finally, Greywolf and Lady Alexina met, the two in front of the others as they circled, feinted, and then began their mock fight. The swirling dance reminded Amazonia of a melee’s chaos, yet she could see their carefully choreographed moves as they pretended to fight, the five on either side sticking to what they’d been taught without improvisation.
The dance of Greywolf and Lady Alexina was far different, the two playing off each other much like she and Titan did when they sparred or fought together, each knowing what the other would do next. And yet, their dance held a grace and beauty Amazonia had never known, Greywolf’s katana flipped backwards to block Lady Alexina’s blow, who pressed herself against him, the two moving like lovers even as they kept their faces in a snarl before they once more moved apart.
Over the music and the bell-like ringing of Artifact on Daemo glass, the narrator said in a loud voice, “As the grim centuries passed, the Daemo Princes created horrible monsters while the gods crafted great machines of war, with both sides unleashing their fury upon their enemies.”
Out of the left hand alcove came an illusionary Daemo Wolf spider and a multi-tentacled creature, both yellowish-green and dripping phantom slime, while out of the right walked two metallic machines, both crab-like, one with a long tube on top while the other had several smaller ones. The Daemo monsters joined the fray, making threatening motions at the dancers swirling around them while the machines shot out illusionary balls, showering the center stage with a blue fire and dancing red sparks when they exploded.
The crowd gasped in awe at the spectacle as the narrator intoned, “For years uncounted, the monsters and the machines of war tore at our beloved Terra, until her very bones radiated magic, warping animals and humans into hybrid creatures such as the centaurs and the satyrs. Verily, not even the children of the gods who were conceived upon our soil were spared.”
The music shifted as the drumming and the lyre stopped, the pipes changing their tune to a haunting air as the dancers, monsters, and machines drew back to their respective sides, with only Lady Alexina and Greywolf remaining. They drew back from each other with their swords in a low guard position as the narrator went on. “During a rare time of truce, when both sides sought the space to lick their wounds and regroup, an evil sorcerer named Ghostdog decided to create a child who would be half Daemo and half divine, a child, in his arrogance, he believed would bridge the gap between the warring races. Instead, he created the most horrible monster of all.” The narrator raised his arms as he thundered, “Behold the Chaos Dragon!”
Above the upper benches appeared the illusion of a winged dragon the length of an adult giraffa from Amazonia’s native home, with silvery horns and a rainbow of dragon scales the same colors as all the different types of magic, protecting its body. It plunged down towards the upper section with a roar. Women shrieked as balls of purple fire exploded harmlessly above them, the dragon passing overhead towards the lower class men in the second, who shouted in fear as the dragon belched purple fireballs again. Then it ignored the lowest tier of upper class men and dove for the stage.
Lady Alexina and Greywolf fled for their respective alcoves as the dragon spewed great balls of purple fire towards the apple tree, which withered as they exploded. The narrator said, “The Chaos Dragon waged war upon god and Daemo Prince alike, laying waste to great swaths of land in its quest to destroy the leaders of both armies.”
After a few moments of illusionary destruction, the dragon rose into the air and hovered as the actor playing Jupiter and the Daemo playing a prince, both carrying spears in their hands, walked out from their respective alcove and met in the center beside the almost dead apple tree. The narrator said, “In desperation, the gods and the last remaining Daemo Prince came together to see if they could make common cause to defeat the dragon.”
As balls of illusionary fire exploded around them, the Daemo Prince said, “Jupiter, this creature is too much for either of us to defeat alone. Therefore, I propose an alliance between us until the dragon is dead. If you survive while I do not, my followers will pay homage to the gods and never invade Terra again.”
“Far too long has Terra suffered from this war,” Jupiter replied. “Even if you fall, Daemo Prince, I will honor this alliance and allow your people to remain on Terra so long as the covenant between us holds. This I do swear.”
Both actors turned and stood side by side with their spears held in both hands as the dragon swooped down to the stage. The three of them began mock fighting as the narrator said, “And so, on a plateau called ‘The Roof of the World’, the last battle of the war was fought for the fate of our beloved Terra. The last Daemo Prince was overcome,” the narrator said as the Daemo actor dropped his spear while two figures robed in black draped a black cloth over him, the three of them falling back as the narrator thundered, “But mighty Jupiter struck the fatal blow!”
The actor playing Jupiter pretended to stab the dragon, who shrieked and launched itself into the air. Red mist streamed from its side as the narrator said, “The Chaos Dragon fled from Jupiter’s wrath, yet its wound was too lethal to endure, and as it died the Chaos Dragon shed its scales over all the lands, giving us the different kinds of magic we know today.”
The dragon flew over the audience, and people began raising their hands into the air as brightly glowing scales began falling off, people jumping to their feet and standing on their benches. “Domina,” Fox said from beside her, “it’s supposed to be good luck to catch one of the dragon’s scales.”
“Then maybe our luck’s changing,” Amazonia said, pointing at the dragon swooping straight towards them. “Here it comes.”
As the dragon got close, scales falling off it left and right onto the excited people below, Amazonia noticed a single, silvery-grey scale on the dragon’s front. The dragon reached the gap between the second and third sections and the scale detached, smacking her in the chest before falling into Amazonia’s lap as the dragon flew on. Startled, Az looked down.
A skull face imprinted onto the silvery-grey scale grinned back at her. “Hades’ hairy eyeballs,” Amazonia said, unsure if she wanted to touch it or not, “is someone having a jest?”
Fox gingerly picked the scale up by the edges and examined it. “Domina, I don’t know,” she said in a voice edged in fear. “I’ve watched this play every times it’s been performed, and the dragon’s never shed a scale like this before. Could this be a message or a warning of—”
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The dragon exploded above them and Fox jumped, the death-head scale dissolving in her hand as a rainbow of sparks fluttered down like dying butterflies. Then they dissolved as well. Lady Alexina and the other Daemo dancers came back on stage and knelt in front of Jupiter as the narrator declaimed in a booming voice, “And so, with the death of their last prince, the Daemo in all the lands gave homage to Jupiter and the gods. The gods in turn, helped humankind usher in a new era of civilization, reaching its apogee under the wise rule of Emperor Konstan. All hail Jupiter and the emperor!”
“All hail Jupiter and the emperor,” the crowd chanted back.
Chorus began the rousing hymn to Jupiter, sung by the crowd at the beginning of each day when games were held in the Colosseum, a hymn every gladiator knew by heart. A hymn Amazonia despised. As the audience joined in, more or less in time with the music, she leaned over towards Fox. “This play we just saw. Did it really happen or is this just another made up myth?”
“Domina, I asked Mistress Alexina the same question during one of the rehearsals. She told me the heart of the story is true: long ago there was a war between the Daemo Princes and the gods, who she calls Celestials, and there was a Chaos Dragon both sides united against to destroy. However, the only way she could present the play was in a manner honoring Jupiter, or the emperor would’ve never allowed it.”
“I see. Did Lady Alexina ever tell you the real story?”
Fox shook her head. “All she’d say is that the real story’s a whole lot darker and grim, with plenty of blame and atrocities committed by both sides.”
Amazonia straightened back up as the hymn ended. Then from behind them the horns gave another blast, and the audience quieted as the narrator opened his arms out wide. “This concludes the final showing of our drama, ‘The War of the Daemo Princes. However,” he said above the voices of those upset at the play no longer being performed, “this night’s entertainment is far from over. After a brief intermission, we shall present a series of short satyr plays and one act tragedies, concluding with a special treat: a sword dance from ancient Xian only performed for the Xian emperor… until tonight.”
The audience applauded by stomping their feet and cheering as Amazonia leaned over. “Satyr plays?”
“Comedies,” Fox replied with a smile. “Domina, you’ll love them.”
“What I’d really love is to find the latrine right now.” Fox stood and pointed towards the left side, where a line of women were beginning to gather. “That’s going to take a while.”
“Especially since your other Wardogs aren’t going to want to leave you by yourself. Domina, there’s a faster way; I can take us through the Shadowlands and have us back before they know we’re gone.”
“Take us… Fox, I saw that creature who wounded you in the Shadowlands.”
“That’s because there was no one around us in the arena. Shadow creatures hate to touch the shadows of the living worse than cats hate to be sprayed with water, and with this many people close by, they won’t harm us.”
“Won’t people get upset, seeing us just up and vanish?”
Fox glanced over her shoulder at the women behind them. “Domina, everyone’s either talking among themselves or heading for the latrine themselves. It’s either now or stand in line.”
Looking over to her left, the line had turned into a mob. “Let’s do this.” Amazonia got to her feet as Fox did, a grey oval forming in front of them which Fox led her through.
Color bled from the world as everything turned grey, the audience around them becoming dark shadows but with detailed features, as if everyone had been turned into statues. The sky had turned grey as well, and Amazonia realized she could see better than she’d been able to a moment before. She also realized something else. “This is strange. I don’t have to pee anymore.”
“That’s because we’re in the Grey,” Fox said as she led them towards the stairs leading up. “In the Shadowlands, you never get hungry or thirsty, never need to sleep, and bodily functions stop.” She glanced back with a knowing expression. “But the moment we return to the real world, the need will return with a vengeance.”
Amazonia shook her head at the strangeness as they started up the stairs, stopping as a line of women’s clearly defined shadows blocked their path. “Fox, how do we get past them?”
“By walking through them.” Amazonia gave her an incredulous look, and Fox said, “Domina, they really are shadows, and they won’t feel us as we pass. Watch.” Fox strode through the women’s shadows, which wavered slightly as she exited, then turned around. “See?”
Amazonia shook her head again and followed. She passed through the shadows without feeling anything touching her skin, though the shadows themselves clung to her a little as she went through them, as if trying to hold her and reluctantly letting go as she went past. They continued climbing the stairs as she asked, “So, where are we going?”
Fox motioned upward at the temple-like structure at the center. “Those are the most expensive seats in the amphitheater, more so than even a seat in the front row, and used exclusively for women. So it normally stays empty.”
“With its own latrine?”
Fox gave her a sardonic smile. “For what it costs, it ought to come with its own bath.” Amazonia chuckled as they reached the top of the stairs and went inside the structure.
There were stone benches set at the edge of the structure, giving a commanding view of the stage, but without any shadows. However, a group of shadows stood near the back, which was open to a flat area behind the structure, and as the two got close, the shadows resolved themselves into a group of around twenty men and one woman, who had a blue glow attached to each earlobe. “Are those mana stones at her ears?”
“The mage is working a spell,” Fox replied. “If we get close, you can actually see the lines of energy extending from the stones to whatever the spell is.”
“I’d rather just do what I came for and return to our bench,” Amazonia replied. “Any chance they’ll know we’re here?”
“Not unless someone else is in there.” Fox led them to a doorway on the right and down a short corridor to a room with multiple holes built into a bench, opened a gateway, and led them through. Color returned as did smell and sound, the crowd noise muffled by the stone walls as Amazonia relieved herself. Then Fox created another gate, color and sound fading again as they walked out into the open area of the structure.
As they walked out of the doorway and started towards the stairs, Amazonia glanced back at the group behind them. She could only see part of the mage’s face, yet for some reason felt a touch of familiarity as she noticed something else. “I swear that mage over there has moved slightly.”
“Domina, time moves differently in the Shadowlands, but it doesn’t stop altogether. Oh, and before I forget, when you step out of the gateway you’ll be moving incredibly fast for a few moments, though it won’t feel that way to you.”
“In other words, don’t bump into someone or I could knock them over?”
“Yes, Domina.” Amazonia chuckled, the mental image of Troll rolling down the steps making her smile as she forgot about the mage with her glowing mana stones.
They returned to the bench and Fox opened a gateway, both stepping through it into the poorly lit section of the amphitheater. A few women behind them rubbed their eyes as if they thought their vision was playing tricks, but no one else noticed, her Wardogs carrying on their conversations as she and Fox waited until their speed had stabilized before sitting back down. Amazonia settled in and began to relax, amused as Dancer came over to gossip with Fox about the actors and their latest scandals.
Then the narrator, no longer wearing a mask, raised his voice over the babble of conversations. “As promised,” he began, the crowd growing quiet and finding their seats as he continued, “we present for your entertainment the second part of tonight’s plays. Boffo and Bumbo will now present a discourse on philosophical musings.”
Fox clapped her hands in delight as Dancer returned to the Wardog’s bench. The stage had been cleared of all its objects, and now from either side a person entered, both having the hairy legs of an animal but the head and torso of a human, though with curling horns coming out of each skull. Each one wore a mask of an old man with wispy hair. They met in the middle, the one on the left saying, “Boffo, I have begun a new school of philosophy.”
“The school of what, I fart, therefore I am?”
Laughter erupted from the audience as Bumbo, who the other had to be, drew himself up. “Are you denigrating my intestinal fortitude? I will have you know that in ancient Xian, my farts were known as the divine wind.”
“Divine breaking wind more likely,” Boffo retorted.
“Scoff if you will,” Bumbo said to more laughter, “but men have written poetry about my flatulence.” He raised his arm outward as if an orator. “Mine were the farts which launched a thousand ships.”
“Filled with people seeking to evade the stench,” Boffo said, pretending to hold the mask’s nose. Amazonia, belly laughing with the others, decided Lady Alexina had been wrong about this, ‘Play within a Play’, nonsense. Tomorrow, her worries would flock to her like Gorcrows, but tonight she’d just sit back and let herself just be another person in the crowd.
Then she felt the tingle of magic as a wand was laid against the side of her throat. “You will tell me where you have hidden the boy and you will do it now,” the mage Amko’s voice hissed.
