Greywolf

  Greywolf’s papa was back and all was right with the world.

  Hypam strode towards them with Fox trailing behind as Asena let the other three go, the flame-haired woman grinning as she called out, “Greywolf, in all my years that’s the wildest betrothal ceremony I’ve ever seen. You’ll be a legend among the People before you know it.”

  She stopped in front of them as Greywolf returned her a sheepish smile. “That wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan.”

  “Plans never survive first contact,” Asena said, hooking her clawed thumbs on her leather belt. “Black Dragon clan… part of the nomads to the far north I’ve heard about?”

  Hypam’s eyes went hard as flint as her grin grew feral. “The Dark Horde’s what the other tribes call us, and will become the name the rest of the,” she sneered, “civilized world, will know us by in the years to come. Our dream-walker, Old Bone Woman, believes that someday soon Attila will bind all the scattered tribes under his banner, and your son, Greywolf, will be at his side when it happens.”

  Asena leaned down towards Hypam as she bared her fangs. “Not if I win tomorrows fight with Titan, he won’t.”

  Hypam didn’t retreat a finger’s length as she glared back. “The world changes, Wolf Mother. Embrace it with us. Once the tribes are united, we’ll sweep westward, scatter the nomads of Scythia, shatter the Gothic tribes, and press on until Old Etrusca is within our grasp. Join with us and together we can be the hammer that crushes the Germanic tribes, the sword that forces Wotan to his knees. You were bred for battle, Wolf Mother,” Hypam making a fist to drive home her words, “and allied with us, we can have the known world groveling like a Etruscan bed-slave at our feet. We can tear down the old world the other Oldenbloods created and let a new world, a solely human world, rise from the ashes.” Hypam opened her fist and extended her hand. “What say you? Will you join us?” Greywolf held his breath as Asena stared back with a troubled expression rippling across her face.

  Then Asena straightened as she stepped back. “Where were you in the days when Wotan cast me out, the rage spewing from my soul like molten rock from the bowels of Vesuvius? In those days I would’ve united the tribes myself and led them on an orgy of death, starting with Wotan, and not ending until I either held the heads of Saturn and Orcus of Etrusca, or they held mine.” She exhaled sharply. “No, Wysper’s given me a greater gift than anything you could offer, and I’d be a fool worse than Bacchus to give it up. I will remain here and both of my children,” Asena resting her black clawed hand on Greywolf’s and Wysper’s shoulder for a moment, “will remain with me.”

  “The offer still stands. As it does for both of you,” Hypam added, looking at Greywolf. “Betrothal’s a promise to marry, which the Black Dragons will honor… so long as your final vows are taken with me.” She held up a hand before anyone could speak. “Keep it in mind should everything turn to Warg shite.” Hypam turned towards Fox. “Ready to go back?” The Daemo nodded, and she said, “Castor—”

  “I’m remaining with Greywolf,” Castor said in his rough-edged voice, “if he wants me to stay.”

  “Of course I do,” Greywolf said, “but isn’t your brother going to miss you?”

  “Fenris has new brothers, now,” Fox replied, “and you need someone with sharp senses to watch your back, in case someone decides to end the betrothal more directly.”

  “Over their dead body,” Asena growled.

  Hypam’s smile returned as she shook her head in a rueful way. “Wolf Mother, I truly hope you’ll change your mind. Come on, little one, we’ve got leagues to cover tonight.” Hypam and Fox headed back to where her Black Dragon warriors waited as the five of them started back towards the encampment.

  Ghostdog had remained silent through the encounter, and now gave Hypam’s backside an appreciative glance as they walked across the field. “You know, you both could do a lot worse than saddling up with that one.”

  “Papa!”

  “It’s a lost cause, getting your father to change,” Asena said with a chuckle. “He’s an incorrigible old goat who’s lucky I like goats.”

  “Coming from you, that’s high praise,” Ghostdog said, turning his attention on his son. “Osiris gave me everything he knew about the raid, but some of the details were bare bones without meat, like how Muzen discovered you were here in the first place.”

  Greywolf sighed. “It was all my fault.” He gave his father a brief description of how a clove fruit led to Muzen tracking him back to the Dancing Direwolf, and the threat to cut off Wysper’s hands. “I know it all ended well, more or less, but if things hadn’t happened as they did, it could’ve ended badly.”

  Asena snorted. “Now, he thinks about the ‘might-have-beens’. You need to start thinking things through before rushing into something.”

  “Which sounds like the pot pointing out to the kettle that it’s charred on the bottom.”

  Asena glared at Ghostdog, who merely smiled back as Wysper said, “Regardless of how events turned out, your son saved me when he gave me that kiss. I… was not in a good way before he did.”

  Asena reached out and gently squeezed Wysper’s shoulder before letting go. “The Winter Fae Yrg told Muzen you were close to suicide, which the stupid fool hadn’t realized until she pointed it out.”

  “Muzen’s chief acolyte had, and offered me a knife on the stairs to cut my own throat.”

  “But you didn’t,” Greywolf said quickly. “I mean, you wouldn’t do that.”

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  “Life is sacred to the Brittani,” Wysper said, “and I knew Myra and Thalia would be punished had I done so.” She stopped walking and the others stopped with her as Wysper faced Asena. “I almost did take the blade, however, even though just thinking about such things were forbidden. I wanted to take the knife—”

  “And plunge it into the bastard’s heart?” Wysper nodded, and Asena asked, “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I knew Myra and Thalia would be punished along with me. I refused him and he reversed the knife, pointing it at me as he told me it would’ve been easier had I just taken it. That was when one of Muzen’s eunuchs took the blade away from him.”

  “Was the acolyte tall and bald headed?” Wysper nodded and Greywolf said, “When we attacked the black temple, Yrg was in the middle of eating his liver as he screamed. He got what he deserved.”

  “I know I should feel remorse at his fate, but somehow I just cannot manage it. However, I do feel guilty not being able to save more of the priestesses.”

  “You took a risk saving the ones you did,” Castor said in his growling voice. He and Wysper told the story of the priestess house being attacked as they began walking again, Greywolf silently cursing himself for not being there as Castor added, “Once we got the few priestesses out and the crazy one blew up herself and everyone else still inside, we collected Greywolf and got everyone out of the Temple district. Fortunately, the Shamblers left us alone, and we—”

  “Shamblers? Are they part of the necromancy Khan Khingla was going on about?” Asena growled.

  “Shite, I thought you knew about them,” Greywolf said. “Timur had Lys raise an army of the dead and turned Amazonia into a Shadow Knight. That’s the only reason the raid was a success.”

  Asena’s eyes became twin pits of blackness. “Tell me everything that happened the night of the raid.” Greywolf did so, with Wysper and Castor adding to the story as they approached the gate, and when they were done, Asena stopped to give Ghostdog a dark look. “Did you know about this?”

  The craggy faced man shrugged as the others stopped as well. "Osiris and I spoke after Khingla banished his eldest son, and he told me most of what Greywolf told you. Necromancy’s a powerful tool which all sides in this conflict were willing to use. Timur just got to use it first.”

  “Why didn’t Titan start taking heads? Necromancy is strictly against the Code, and he should’ve never allowed anyone to practice it, let alone become a Shadow Knight.”

  “At a guess, it’s because the woman he loves was forced into it, more or less, and he talked himself out of killing anyone.”

  Asena snorted. “Titan’s in love with that African gladiator?” Ghostdog nodded, and she growled, “Foolishness.”

  "Actually, it’s not,” Ghostdog replied. “Over the years, I’ve helped Titan put down the remaining Ancient Ones after they lost their Code and became feral, and in talking to those who knew them, it turns out that the only emotion they let themselves feel was hatred towards those violating the dictates of the Code. Allowing himself to love and be loved in return has strengthened the Code enough to let him bend it a little, which is why he only killed soldiers of the Sasnayam Empire.”

  “Papa,” Greywolf said, “what’s this code the two of you are talking about? Is it a code of honor like knights are supposed to follow?”

  “Understanding not given,” Asena snarled in Roma. “Only Titan can give knowledge.”

  “I’m just asking a question,” Greywolf snapped back in Greco. “You don’t have to bite my head off, and do it in a language Wysper doesn’t understand, I might add.”

  “Speak little,” Wysper said in Roma.

  She broke off, struggling for words as Ghostdog said, “According to Pan, after you were kidnapped by a Shadow-walker working for the Gauls, who then betrayed them by selling you and your priestess-sisters to Muzen, your mother banned Roma from being spoken on the island, among other decrees. I understand she wasn’t too keen on anything Etruscan before that happened, either.”

  Wysper smiled. “That is a gentle way of putting it. So… it was a Shadow-walker who abducted us?”

  “I thought you’d killed the rest of them,” Asena added.

  Ghostdog shrugged. “Evidently not. It’s fiendishly tricky to conceive a child in the Shadowlands without ending up a ghost in the Grey, but it seems someone did so with the intent of making money off his talent. But don’t worry,” he added. “Sooner or later, all Shadow-walkers end up crossing my path. Wysper won’t be abducted again, I promise.”

  “I thank you for that,” Wysper said, “though if my abduction ultimately means that the Brittani people will survive, then my sacrifices were worth the pain.”

  “During the raid,” Castor said in his rough voice, “I noticed the thin scars on your belly.” Wysper’s hands curled in a protective way over her abdomen as he added, “I heard how badly the Sasnayams treated you, but were the Brittani any better? My tutor told my brother and I that the druids cut the hearts out of captured prisoners on nights of the full moon.”

  “The druids stopped doing that centuries ago,” Wysper replied, annoyance flashing across her face for a moment. “The temple of Pan treated my aunt Ariana, whose body grew a mana node like mine did, as if she were a queen herself, and gave me special status even before my node started to swell. When I began… developing,” the hint of a blush rising to her cheeks, “the node where my womb should have been grew as well, and Aunt Ariana explained what was going to happen. The first night it was to be cut away, I was given a drink that helped numb the pain, and the High Priest carved it out quickly and carefully, to minimize the blood loss. Thalia and Myra healed me for the first time, and afterwards the temple held a feast in my honor.” Wysper raised her chin. “I was loved there, loved and honored.”

  In a quiet voice, Ghostdog asked, “What about Muzen and the Sasnayams?”

  Wysper’s body sagged as she looked down at the trampled grass. “Muzen made it clear from the start that I was to be his sacrificial victim and nothing more. In Pan’s temple, I was discouraged to use my hands for more than basic acts like using a fork or a spoon to eat with, but Muzen forbade even that. I was fed by hand, bathed by others, and given a list of rules to follow, which he enforced by rummaging through my mind every so often and punishing me if I disobeyed.”

  “What about Yrg?” Asena asked. “She claimed Muzen had her do the same thing.”

  “He had Yrg do it at times when he needed to save his strength,” Wysper replied with a shudder. “Muzen at least was impersonal about it, but Yrg enjoyed herself, playing with me afterward or finding something I’d done and planting nightmares in my mind. I know it is wrong to wish a person ill…”

  “You were glad to see Yrg made into a Shambler so she can’t hurt you anymore,” Greywolf said, putting his arm around her and giving Wysper a squeeze.

  She leaned into him as Asena growled, “I’m going to turn Muzen into a dog’s dinner if I ever see him again, as well as the Shadow-walker who stole you away in the first place.”

  “Can we at least get something to eat before you go on another rampage,” Greywolf said. “I’m starving.”

  Wysper stifled a laugh as Castor grinned, Ghostdog, who had gone still as stone, relaxing with a smile as Asena rolled her eyes. “Hel’s hairy armpits, we can’t have you wasting away now can we?”

  “Then it is a lucky thing I am here,” a woman’s voice called out from the darkness ahead.

  “Sorocan,” Wysper called back, “did you see—”

  “Everything,” Sorocan replied, the smile remaining on her face as she said, “We prepared enough food to satisfy even a growing Oldenblood’s appetite. Titan helped the Great Khan compose himself, and even though there might not be the throng of people we hoped for, those in attendance all wish you both the best. Come.” Sorocan led the way as Greywolf took Wysper by the hand and led her forward.