Greywolf

  "Wotan's blood, I never expected him to banish his son."

  The moment after the Great Khan announced the banishment of his eldest son and retinue, Khan Khingla stormed off through the tent flap behind the throne, leaving the place in an uproar. Now, still standing inside the tent with everyone around them arguing with each other, Titan placed his large hand on Greywolf’s shoulder. "I am afraid it was inevitable," he rumbled as the women, except for Wysper who was still beside him, left through the front. Titan watched them go before looking back down. "Wysper, are you alright?"

  She nodded even though she was still trembling. "It was just so strange, like dreaming while awake... until I was not." Wysper took a deep breath and the trembling eased. "So, what do we do now?"

  "All of you will leave with me," Prince Varsena said as he strode up and came to a halt in front of them. "Titan is one of us now, and Greywolf has guest-right, which I am extending to you." He looked Wysper up and down with a frown. "Your clothes are fine for Bukhara, but I need to find you something warmer and less revealing. My people, for the most part, are conservative in their thinking, and tend to make snap judgments based on how a woman is dressed."

  Then he smiled. "However, one of the merchants who came with Porthos owns a clothing shop on this side of the river, and I feel certain would not mind making a bit of silver. Come with me." They followed Prince Varsena as he walked towards the tent flap everyone was now leaving out of, the prince looking over his shoulder at Wysper. "On the way back to the encampment, we can talk about dream-walking and how it is done."

  Wysper perked up. "Can you teach me how to do it?"

  He hesitated as they joined the crowd. "I can, but the Keeper of the Spirits is the one who should instruct you, if she decides it is appropriate. Yasataar understands dream-walking better than anyone."

  Over the tumult of half-heard conversations, Titan rumbled, "I thought dream-walking died out in humans a long time ago."

  "The Keeper tells us the ability is buried deep within all humans, with only those able to generate mana," Prince Varsena touching his dark blue hair, "like myself or Wysper, able to bring it to life and control it. And even then it has to have a dream-walker awaken the ability before it can be used."

  "As Yrg did by giving me nightmares," Wysper said.

  "Exactly. Judging on how easily the spirit was able to assume control, I would say you have a strong ability that the Keeper will be able to teach you to use... well, if she wants to, of course."

  They walked through the tent flap into the crisp air. The smell of brick dust was still present in Greywolf’s nose, but the blood spilled last night gave the scent a coppery tang as well. People gathered in groups near the buildings, with Prince Timur, Az, and the two Bloodguards standing on the near end of the bridge, talking to several nobles and some Tartaros warriors who were all nodding as Timur spoke. Porthos stood close to them as the men he’d arrived with yelled at him, several of them waving their arms around while Porthos made calming gestures with his. They followed Prince Varsena as he went towards the group. "Merchant Balthazar, apologies for interrupting, but might I speak with you?"

  Porthos and the men around him stopped yelling and turned to look as an old, white bearded man in fancy clothing hurried over. "Prince Varsena, will you please join us and talk some sense into Porthos? He claims he is going to be our king."

  "Petty-king," Porthos countered, "more like a governor than actual nobility. While this was not my idea, I feel that—”

  "Men of Bukhara," Timur called out from the edge of the white stone bridge, “I have the solution to your problems. Will all of you come join me here so I do not violate the terms of my banishment?" The nobles and Tartaros warriors moved away to watch as Prince Varsena and the others moved closer to the bridge, Timur waiting until everyone got close before speaking again. "Since my father has seen fit to banish me to Bukhara, I have decided the city belongs to me now by right of conquest."

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Oh, shite. The men around Porthos gasped as he said, "But your highness, the Great Khan told us—”

  "Whatever he told you before my banishment no longer holds true. But have no fear," Timur smiling as he opened his arms like a loving papa to his children, "for I plan to make you, Porthos, my chief counselor, and the good men around you my advisers. The taxes that the Sasnayams imposed on Bukhara are hereby abolished, and you may practice the religion of your ancestors to your heart's content." His arms moved inward to gesture at himself. "You will find me no tyrant but a simple warrior who is content to let wiser men run Bukhara's affairs." Then his smile vanished as his face became a stern mask. "But starting tomorrow, Bukhara's army must begin rebuilding and its walls must be restored."

  Porthos' shock slid into a sly smile. "I sense a change in Bukhara's fortunes for the better. Yet, a burning question remains: what shall be done with the blood corn?"

  Timur’s smile was the mirror of Porthos' own. "Again, by right of conquest, all of the blood corn belongs to me and will be given freely to all those pledging loyalty to my cause."

  Prince Varsena's light brown face is grew darker as he strode forward. "Do you realize you are talking treason against the Great Khan?"

  Timur continued smiling as he stroked his beard. "Treason? I would be careful bandying that word about, younger brother, for you are only safe for as long as our father is alive. And he is an old, weak shield to hide behind."

  Titan placed a hand on Wysper's and Greywolf’s shoulders as the three halted behind Prince Varsena, who snarled, "In the name of Tengri, come to your senses or Kula will come here with an army and burn you out."

  "He is welcome to try." The smile left Timur's face as he motioned first left, and then right. "There is no place to cross this river in either direction for many leagues, which means his army will have to attack Bukhara over this bridge. True, the gatehouse and walls have been neglected, but by the time his army is assembled, the gatehouse and the walls to either side will have been rebuilt."

  Prince Varsena threw up his hands. "The Great Khan was right; you have gone mad. Since most of Bukhara's army was slain last night, who is going to man the walls? Old men and women?"

  Timur’s smile was the Warghorse’s pressing down on a rabbit with his paw. "I have an army in the black temple right now, waiting to be called upon the moment I need them."

  The color drained away from Prince Varsena's face. "You would dare use your legion of the dead against our people?"

  Timur stalked forward a few paces, his face a hands breath from his brother's. "I am not the one who will be doing the attacking, and as for the people..." Timur moved away and stroked his beard. "Varsena, you had best hope the Khan of khans lives until a ripe old age. Because if he dies before moving the People away in the spring, I will ride in and claim his throne."

  "The Great Khan's will is for the throne to go to Avitohol."

  "As long as he is alive. After he dies, the warriors will flock to my banner, because only I can lead them to glory and the plundering of the Sasnayam cities."

  Prince Varsena shook his head. "The nobles—”

  "Will follow where the warriors lead, for without them the nobles are undone, and they know it." Timur poked his brother in the chest as if goading him. "On the day I take command of the People, you will swear me an oath of loyalty on Az's Rune sword or I will take your head. And as for you," Timur's eyes meeting Greywolf’s as a cold smile touched his lips, "I will have the Xian mercenaries fill you full of crossbow bolts, then make you watch as I turn your scrawny priestess into my bed-slave."

  Only Titan's hand holding his shoulder in an iron grip kept Greywolf from challenging Timur as Az, standing next to him, shook her head. "My prince, let the two of them be."

  Timur's eyes widened as a startled expression swept his face, and he turned towards her. "What did you just say?"

  "To let them be. Prince Timur, I never want to become a Shadow Knight ever again, but no matter how hard I fight it, becoming one seems to be my fate." Sadness touched her face a moment as she sighed, before the sardonic mask returned. "So be it. I'll embrace my destiny, swearing an oath on my sword to become a Shadow Knight whenever, and wherever you need me to, but in return I want a Rune sword oath from you not to harm or defile either one of them and to let them be free, unless one of them attacks you first."

  Timur gave her an exasperated look. "Why? I cannot for the life of me understand why their fates should matter to you."

  "Because in return for your oath, Greywolf's going to swear me one as well."