Greywolf

  As they reached the far end of the stone bridge next to the encampment, they were met by a bristling wood of spears, wielded by warriors with overlapping red shields. From behind them, a young man's voice called out, "What is the meaning of this outrage?"

  Is he serious? Moving to the edge of the iron spear-points, Greywolf replied, "My name's Greywolf, son of Asena, and I've come to offer challenge for the right to betroth Prince Varsena's guest-daughter Wysper. Now get out of my way."

  Instead of ordering his spearmen to let them by, he spat out, "I shall do nothing of the sort. That dragon illusion was meant to sow fear, and I will not allow—”

  "That illusion was my way of letting you know the Black Dragon clan's here," Hypam called out from behind Greywolf. "Since none of your warriors has the least shred of honor, me and my warriors are going to defend Greywolf so he can steal Wysper in the traditional way of our peoples."

  "This is a ceremony for the People of the Eternal Sky, and barbarians are not allowed."

  Avitohol joined him. "These are warriors of my mother's people who've participated in our ceremonies before."

  Greywolf shivered a little in the cold wind, but wasn’t going to give into it as the leader sniffed, "So? I have command here, and I am not letting barbarians past our shields."

  Shite, enough is enough. "Why? Are they such fierce warriors that you're afraid you'll wet yourself as they walk by?"

  Two steel covered hands shoved the center shields aside, and a young noble in barely used Artifact armor stalked forward until he was close enough for Greywolf to punch. "Just for that, I'm not letting anyone else inside to help you." He stabbed a finger at Greywolf’s face. "There is no way any of us are going to let that old man declare Timur dead. He is the rightful heir and future khan of the People, and the sooner he takes command, the better."

  Avitohol's hands clenched into fists. "I'll have you flogged for that. The Great Khan made me his heir, not Timur."

  "Go ahead and try," the noble sneered down at him. "You aren't fit to lick Timur's boots."

  The noble looked up and his eyes went wide. Glancing back, Hypam held her bow with an arrow nocked and aimed at the noble’s face. "Insult my cousin's honor one more time and you'll be licking the feet of the slave-spirits in the After-world."

  From behind the shields a woman's voice barked out an order. At once, the spears were pulled back, then raised to an upright position, the middle spearmen moving aside for three women in well made clothing to walk through. They rounded on the noble and begin berating him in their language, overriding him every time he tried to defend himself, until he finally threw up his hands and walked away. The spearmen looked around at each other.

  Then they began moving out of the way. Hypam eased off on the bow and replaced the arrow in the quiver as Avitohol's mother, Khojin, strode up to her. Hypam lowered her head so the woman could kiss both her cheeks before listening meekly to whatever Khojin told her in a no nonsense voice.

  The other two women turn towards Greywolf. "Apologies for the young man's arrogance," the younger one said, "but tempers are running like wild dogs tonight."

  No shite. "I'm not the one who insisted we tie our betrothal to Timur's fate."

  "We realize that," the older one said, "which is why we want you to turn around and walk away."

  I can't believe I'm hearing this. "After everything that's happened, you really expect me to do that?" Greywolf motioned back towards Avitohol, standing with his mother and the rest, all of them watching him. "He's staked his honor, and probably his chance to be khan, on my betrothing Wysper the way the Great Khan wants it. There's no way I'll betray him."

  "This is going to tear the People apart," she hissed.

  Greywolf bent down and placed his face close to hers. "And exactly why should I care? I helped Asena kill the trolls who were preying on your children, then snuck your raiding party through the Shadowlands and into Bukhara." He waved his arms as his voice rose. "Did I ask for Blood Corn, or gold, or for anything else? No, all I wanted, and all I still want, is to be with the woman I've fallen in love with. That's it." Her face set itself in hard lines as Greywolf lowered his arms and drew myself up. "I'm going up against the Chosen; alone, if I have to, and when this is over I'll stand with Avitohol. I've seen the horrors Timur's actions unleashed in Bukhara, and in comparison, Avitohol's silk while Timur's soiled linen."

  The younger woman looked embarrassed but the older one drew back like a snake ready to bite. "If you are so eager to fight the Chosen alone, I shall make it so... and never forget what you did this night." She turned around and stalked off, the younger one giving Greywolf a worried look before hurrying after her.

  "Kula's wife wouldn't know silk from sow's ear," a harsh woman's voice said from behind him. Greywolf glanced down as Avitohol's mother Khojin walked up beside him. "If Timur takes over, you and Wysper marry Hypam, have place with Black Dragons."

  His eyes went wide. "Marry? But—”

  "It'll be fun," Hypam said, laughing at his expression. She put a calloused hand on Greywolf’s shoulder and propelled him forward. "Don't worry: we'll get you past the Chosen. They’ll be more concerned about taking us on than worrying about you."

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  "But Avitohol's mother—”

  "Is thinking ahead, that's all. Give the ritual challenge to Kula, and when he responds, we'll enter the circle." She made a fist. "Luck and honor."

  Greywolf made a fist back as the other warriors, including Titan, Castor, and Avitohol, did the same. Then he turned around and strode out into the enormous circle, trying to look more confidant than he felt as he glanced back one last time. Titan had begun organizing the group while women in the crowd pushed their way forward, probably to get a better view.

  Let's just hope it's not to watch me get pounded into a dog's dinner. Wysper, wearing the long, white tunic matching his trousers, stood alone with her arms crossed across her chest for warmth, on a low mound behind the hundred warriors of the Chosen. They were standing in the identical pose of Kula, who stood a couple horse-lengths in front of them, with their arms folded across their armored chests. As Greywolf approached, the War-leader bellowed, "Who dares enter this place without permission of the Khan of khans?"

  Greywolf came to a halt several horse-lengths away. "I am Greywolf, son of Asena the Wolf Mother, and I've come to claim Wysper of the clan Iceni, from the Isle of Britannia. Who dares stand in my way?"

  He lifted his craggy face. "I am Kula, son of—" He broke off with a startled expression on his face, the Chosen unfolding their arms and muttering in low voices as a few of them pointed at something behind Greywolf. He turned around.

  Oh, shite. Women were streaming out of the crowd and mobbing Greywolf’s defenders, not trying to hurt them but clinging to their arms and legs like leeches. Even Titan, trying to shake them off without hurting anyone, couldn’t seem to break free, and he’d completely lost sight of Avitohol.

  Screams begin from behind the Chosen and Greywolf whirled around. In the light of the torches being held by the crowd standing beyond the mound, a hulking figure at least seven feet tall was slamming its way through, people scrambling to get out of its way as it roared in a familiar voice. Oh shite, it’s Asena!

  Greywolf took off running straight for the Chosen, Kula yelling something at him as he passed, the warriors in front of him looking puzzled as Greywolf ran faster. Shite, I've got to time this just right... A grey gate formed right in front of a Chosen, who reared back as Greywolf raced straight into the Grey...

  The Chosen became dark grey shadow-statues he was running through as a voice behind him shrieked, "You cannot escape me, Shadow-walker. I will feast on your heart. The feast!"

  Greywolf kept running through the shadow warriors full out, up the mound and past Wysper, who was in the process of turning around with horror on her face. Asena had broken free of the crowd and was running straight towards Wysper. Greywolf sprinted towards her as a gate formed, higher than normal, and as he got close he leaped into the air, curling his body into a ball as he went through the gate.

  Greywolf hit Asena's chest like a stone from a catapult. She staggered and fell as he bounced off her, smacking against the hard ground and rolling until coming to rest at the base of the mound. Get up, idiot; Asena's shaking her head like a baffled wolf, but she'll be on her feet any moment.

  Gentle hands grasped his shoulders, and he looked up wildly at Wysper kneeling down beside him. "Greywolf, are you hurt?"

  "Run," he managed to croak. "Wysper, get out of here; Asena will kill you."

  "Dreaming or awake, I can never outrun her." How can someone look so sad and determined at the same time? Idiot, you've got to stand up. Asena lurched to her feet...Wait, what's Wysper doing? Wysper rose to her feet as regal as a queen, and walked towards Asena with her arms outstretched. Get up; you've got to get up and stop her, it can't end like this.

  As she approached Asena, Wysper began to sing in the tongue of the ancient Celts, the first language Asena had taught Greywolf as a child.

  "In exile lives the Oldenblood,

  Banished now from Heaven's land

  The realm no mortal ever trod,

  Nor fierce Celestial stand.

  "Hail, Mother Wolf! As dark as death,

  Thy claws black diamonds, countless maimed

  Twin pits thy eyes, thy steam-hot breath,

  Untamed, untamed, untamed."

  Asena stopped in front of Wysper, staring at her. Then Asena dropped to her knees as the song continued.

  "Hail Mother Wolf, heed now my call,

  And lead me to that shadowed place

  The Underworld of Hel's cold hall

  As cold my hands, my lips, my face.

  "Yet fierce Asena, hear my plea,

  To grant one boon, one final task

  One night of love before you free

  My soul! Just this, I ask."

  Asena's sides were heaving as she bowed her head. She can't be crying, can she? I think she is. Wysper slowly walked towards Asena with open arms. "Wolf Mother, if you will spare me, as your priestess I can help your son give you the mana your body needs to live, so you will not have to suffer the pangs of its lack."

  Asena rubbed her eyes with the black, leathery palms of her hands. "Priestess?"

  Wysper nodded. "Titan explained to me how you were cast out of the heavens, then cursed, and how the Shadow-walker Ghostdog gave you a son who could supply most of your needs. If you spare me, I can supply the rest." She drew herself up. "However, if you still wish to take my life, it is yours. All I ask is one night with Greywolf, one night," Wysper rubbing at her eyes, "with someone who loves me for myself, and not because of the growth ripped out of my belly time and again."

  "No." Greywolf staggered to his feet. "Not just one night, but every night for the rest of your life, if you want." Asena glared at him and he met her eyes straight on. "If you kill Wysper, then you'll never see me again."

  Asena's eyes narrowed. "Greywolf—”

  "I can't live like this! Not anymore." Asena and Wysper were both staring at Greywolf as he stabbed his finger at Asena's face. "Maybe you think you're protecting me from getting hurt or something, and if she's dead I'll get over her. Well, guess what: that's not going to happen." Staring at her, Greywolf dropped his arm to his side as he shook his head. "If you kill her, I'll mourn Wysper until the day I die, even if it means I end up like you... which I probably will. The woman without eyes told me that I'm you, with whatever changes papa put in, but a pure Oldenblood regardless." Greywolf sighed. "At least let me have a few good memories before I begin drinking myself to death." Asena stared at her son like he’d become a stranger.

  Then she threw back her head and howled. Wysper scrambled away as Asena's howl became a keen filled with anger and despair, Wysper coming into Greywolf’s arms a moment before he pulled them both away from Asena, now ripping up the ground as the terrible sound continued. Shite, I've never seen her this bad. Spearmen were running in their direction as the Great Khan and his guards reached the unarmed Chosen, with the Black Dragon warriors racing towards them as well. Castor and Titan were several horse-lengths ahead of the warriors and pulling away.

  Greywolf drew Wysper farther away as Asena stopped ripping up the ground and looked up at the sky. "Ghostdog," she roared, "why did you do this to me? Why couldn't you just let me die?"

  "Actually," a familiar male voice drawled on a breeze out of the Shadowlands, "it's because I'm quite fond of you."

  Greywolf’s jaw dropped. "Papa?"