Greywolf

  While Greywolf had been telling the story, Wysper made them both tea, handing him the cup as he said, “I only remember fragments after that until evening, back in camp… Gratitude,” Greywolf taking the ceramic cup from her hands before taking a sip. “That’s good. Anyway, the whole clan was excited over whatever Targitaus had told the nobles, Prince Balashi showing off the silvery metallic armor and battle-lance he’d received, with the only person who didn’t believe the prince being Alain’s uncle. He thought they were making the whole thing up.”

  “Greywolf,” Wysper said in a troubled voice, “you are telling me the Scythian god was in truth a real person?”

  “He was a Celestial like Asena,” Greywolf replied, choosing his words with care, “but yes, he was a real person. Asena told me he died near the end of the war, and on his deathbed, likely told the ancestors of the Scythians to continue honoring their traditions and remain loyal to the cause.”

  Wysper stared at him in stunned disbelief. “And they continued to do so for thousands of years?”

  “Elevating him to the position of sky-god. At the camp that night, Asena told the clan things that were part of their traditions, things the Scythians never shared with outsiders, so when she began telling war stories about their ancestors like they were mythic warriors, not only did they believe her but their priests wrote down everything she said. Prince Balashi wanted us to remain with them but Asena refused, saying we were needed elsewhere. So he gave us a bunch of gifts, including my Daemo horse Rocky, when we left them as winter was getting ready to bite.”

  “I… don’t know what to say,” Wysper replied. “Where did you go next?”

  “Carpathian mountains, where we found the inn Alexina was staying at, and helped her kill a pair of Vampyres along with their ghoul minions. She and Asena made a deal, Alexina bought the ruined Greco theater-complex outside of Konstanopolis and fixed it up, then the three of us became actors in the Greco plays Alexina put on.” Greywolf sighed. “I’d really hoped Asena would settle down for a while, but it didn’t happen.”

  “It was a blessing for me,” Wysper said quietly.

  “Me too,” Greywolf said, smiling as he clasped both her hands with his own. “I’m a little worried about Alexina, now that she’s not feeding off me anymore, but it’s out of my hands.” Wysper gave him a puzzled look, and he added, “Alexina’s one of the few Daemo survivors of the Prince’s war who’s never returned to the spawning pits.”

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  Wysper’s eyes went wide. “I never knew Daemo could live that long.”

  “Neither did Alexina. She’s different than most Daemo; stronger, tougher, definitely more honorable. She’s one of the few Daemo Asena actually likes.”

  Wysper took a deep breath. “Were you two… intimate?” Greywolf’s expression became sardonic and she flushed. “Crave pardon. That was a silly question.”

  “I don’t think it’s silly at all. Have you ever been with a Daemo?”

  “It was one of many things forbidden to me. Thalia thought it was because the Sasnayams think relations with a Daemo female to be immoral, but Fat-boy thought it more likely that Muzen didn’t want a Daemo priestess to enjoy my blood so much that I would become sickly.” Wysper sighed, a wave of sadness sweeping over her face. “Before he died, Fat-boy told me to marry you and make a new life for myself.”

  “Which is exactly what we’re doing,” Greywolf said, gently squeezing her fingers. “Some people honor the dead with rituals and offerings, but I think the best way to remember him is by doing exactly what he said and not falling into Muzen’s hands ever again.” Greywolf paused as he cocked his head. “When he reached the other side, I wonder if he got his balls back.”

  “Greywolf,” Wysper said in mild outrage, lightly smacking him on the shoulder, “that is barbaric.”

  “Well, what do you expect? I’m a barbarian Oldenblood.”

  Wysper giggled, yet with an edge Greywolf noticed at once. “Fat-boy told Thalia much the same thing when she chastised me for grabbing onto to your shoulders and kissing you back. He said it was the first time he had seen me smile in a long—” A sob caught in her throat as she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I’m not going to cry; I told myself I wouldn’t, that I’d stay strong and not—”

  Wysper broke off as Greywolf took the cup from her hand and set both of them down. “Yes, you are,” he said, wrapping his arms around her slender shoulders. “Papa says that when a person dies, they often linger for a time, especially when they die by violence. They follow the living people they loved in life, and if they see that person mourn, then they know they were loved back. Papa says it often helps the spirits let go and move on to wherever it is they go.” Staring deep into her eyes, he nodded, and Wysper’s eyes overflowed as she sobbed, burying her head against his chest for a time.

  When the storm of grief finally blew over, Greywolf let her go as she sat back up. “Gratitude for letting me get that out. I… have been keeping a lot inside me for a long time.”

  “Well, you don’t have to anymore, Wysp. I’ll be the official ‘Keeper of the Royal Secrets’ from now on.”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “Wysp?”

  “Yeah, it’s a pet name. Hey, you can start calling me Woof, like you did when Muzen scrambled your mind. It’ll drive Asena crazy.”

  Wysper smiled as she shook her head. “I think you are the one who is crazy.”

  “Maybe so, but I think you need a little craziness in your life,” Greywolf’s face becoming serious as he added, “Just like I need someone I can call home.”

  Wysper reached out and touched Greywolf’s face with both hands. “Love you, Woof.”

  “Love you more, Wysp,” Greywolf replied, grinning as he gently bore her down. “And I’ll prove it to you right now.”

  In a dark corner of the tent, the shadow of a large man smiled as the two fell laughing into the blankets, closed his eyes, and let the mortal world go.