Wysper

  "What?"

  The Ogri and the rest of them stared at the Shadow Fae in confusion, yet no one was as confused as Wysper herself. Her thoughts had finally reorganized themselves, but she still could not string words together without effort and felt graceful as a puppet with her strings cut. Why are these warriors here? Did Greywolf… I called him ‘Woof’, I am so embarrassed… did he bring them to save me from the High Priest?

  Still down on his hands and knees, the High Priest laughed. "What marvelous irony. The traitors, so smug in their deceptions, are themselves deceived."

  "Laugh all you want, O bald one," the Shadow Fae… he called her Lys, retorted, "because it may be the last time for a while. All the other temples, not just here but all over the Sasnayam Empire, are rising up this night against your ally, Ghash-Kimil. Once the carnage is complete and they have gathered the evidence linking Ghash-Kimil’s ever deepening knowledge of necromancy back to you, the long knives will come for the temples of Yun-Kax. If they haven’t already."

  Among the Brittani, necromancy, beyond speaking to the ancestors, was one of the few crimes no clan leader was ever permitted to absolve. The High Priest's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, deepening necromancy? Ghash-Kimil's priests dispose of bodies and occasionally raise the dead, which the other temples have known about since the founding of the empire."

  Raise the dead? He knew, yet never commanded them to cease? Dread filled Wysper’s heart as Lys smirked at him. "Oh, really? Before tonight, I only knew how to raise the dead and speak to them, which I understand Ghash-Kimil's priests cannot do. However, a priestess, who used Ghash-Kimil's teachings to turn herself into a minor Lich, showed me just how easy it was to turn Yrg into a Revenant under my control."

  The High Priest was keeping his face in a stern mask, yet Wysper sensed the unease underneath. "You are lying."

  "Am I? I have been hiding under your nose ever since I got here, and had I known how to create a Revenant before, I could have turned her into one several times over. Tell me something: why did Ghash-Kimil so strongly support your plan to conquer the Empire of the East's province of Syros on the coast of the Middle sea?"

  "So the empire would have a port there in Antioch, to establish trade and for its shipbuilding—”

  "Carthago. The minor Lich Cermet, who willingly placed herself under my control for her safety, told me she heard from Ghash-Kimil's own lips that they wanted to launch an expedition to the ruins of Carthago and find the secret of turning themselves, and their trusted retainers, into Shadowmen exactly like the ones Ba'al created."

  The Germanic warrior who entered with Lys, added, "She also said Ghash-Kimil planned to trick you into becoming a Shadowman as well, loyal to them, of course. She claims the proof's in their main temple in Tesiphon, with your name on the documents—”

  Shouts began from the bottom floor, with the sound of doors being slammed shut. All of them turned towards the doorway as someone called out what sounded like a warning in the Crimson Horde’s harsh language. A scarred, craggy faced warrior grunted and turned around. "Lys, you're right; my scouts just reported a company of archers has marched through the gateway into the Temple district, with a company of spearmen behind them." He gave her a grim smile. "I thought this raid was going too well."

  Lys gave him back a jagged grin with teeth like icicles of obsidian. "Forewarning gives you the chance to be formidable against your foes. Shall we see if they wish to parley?"

  "Titan," the craggy warrior said to the Ogri, "will you keep watch over Muzen while I speak to them?"

  "I'd rather destroy that abomination," Titan growled, pointing his great sword at Yrg, "but under the circumstances I will do as you ask... for now."

  "Good." The warrior began giving orders to the warriors behind him as Lys leaped onto German's shoulder, who strode towards the closest shuttered window and unlatched the bolt. Yrg stiffly followed behind them as he opened the shutters to the cold night air.

  A Daemo with silvery-grey hair like Greywolf’s, grabbed Wysper’s dress and shawl beside the scattered cushions and hurried over. "Here, before Wysper catches a chill." As she handed them to Zanzabel, she gasped at Greywolf, "You're hurt."

  As Zanzabel slipped the dress over Wysper’s head, he replied, "I'll be okay as long as nothing else attacks us. Help me up to the window ledge, I want to see." Zanzabel left Wysper to struggle into her dress alone as she grasped Greywolf by the armor and hoisted him up to the ledge.

  Wysper was having trouble getting her arms into the sleeves, but stopped struggling to watch Greywolf grit his teeth in obvious pain, his left arm cradled against his chest. Zanzabel got him settled and he exhaled sharply as his face eased. "That’s better. Thank you, mistress...?"

  "Just Zanzabel," she replied, flashing her broad smile of white pearls in a rich black face. "Once a spy for Muzen, but now..." She broke off, staring at the craggy warrior, who was looking out the window. She sighed. "Probably just a slave."

  "Not necessarily," Lys called back over her shoulder before looking out the window again. The Daemo fumbled with the latch before getting it open, and pushed the shutters back.

  A brisk wind blew in from the empty courtyard, Wysper’s skin prickling as the other three glanced back at her. She knew she must look every inch a street whore with her dress half off, but could not get herself unsnarled as Zanzabel left him and helped Wysper get the dress back on. Then she wrapped the shawl around Wysper’s shoulders and helped her sit down on the ledge behind Greywolf.

  He shifted around until they were sitting side by side. "Wysper, are you alright?" She opened her mouth to reply as a guilty expression stole over his face, and he blurted out, "I'm so sorry I got you into this mess. I mean, it's all my fault, but you looked so sad when that horrid priestess told you no, and I thought I could just kiss you and disappear again."

  Wysper could not get the words out to tell him everything was alright, but thought if she touched him, he would understand. She reached with her hand to stroke his face…

  No! Wysper’s hand curled into a ball and she pulled it back as every instinct told her not to do it, that touching anything without the High Priest’s permission was to risk losing both hands forever, despite what he claimed about them growing back. Greywolf sighed. “Yeah, I figured you’d be angry at me for dragging you into this mess.”

  How can he think that? Wysper violently shook her head no, as Zanzabel said, "I do not think Wysper is sorry at all."

  “Then why are her hands are still clenched into fists?”

  Zanzabel glanced down at Wysper’s lap and she clasped her hands together with her fingers locked, her eyes downcast. Zanzabel brushed one of her golden locks back behind her ear. "Yes, now I understand. Greywolf, Wysper would be touching you right now, except she has been forbidden to use her hands to touch almost anything."

  "Truly?" Wysper nodded without looking at him. "Here." Greywolf slowly uncurled the arm he had been cradling against his chest and placed it in her lap. "Go ahead and grasp it. Just don't whip it around like the Shadowcat did, or you're going to hear me shriek like a girl."

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  Wysper could not help but smile, yet it slid off her face as she stared at the scarred hand in her lap. "Greywolf wants to help you," Zanzabel said in a gentle voice. "But you have to take the first step.”

  The first step. Even before the Shadow-walker and his demons came through the Shadowlands to the Temple of Pan, the Brittani priests had restricted what Wysper could or could not touch, and it only got worse under the High Priest...

  No, I will not call him that. Yun-Kax, the god, is a lie; my life here has been one long falsehood, my blood and my mana given to beings called Celestials, who used me to keep themselves in power. Muzen was sitting cross-legged with the Ogri keeping watch, and seeing her gaze shift, lifted one painted eyebrow. Wysper’s eyes narrowed. Never again. Never again will I allow Muzen or anyone else to rip this mana node from my body, not while I have the strength to resist.

  Wysper’s gaze returned to Greywolf as she forced her hands to unfold while struggling to speak. “Hard,” she said in Greco. He nodded in understanding and she put her hand to her chest. “I… am… Brittani.”

  Greywolf nodded again. “Asena always told me the Brittani people were some of the fiercest fighters she’d ever known.” Wysper blinked. Asena the Wolf Mother? No, it must be someone named after her. Yet hearing him speak the name of a legend, as if he knew her, gave her courage. Take a deep breath. Now, reach out with both hands and grasp his.

  Wysper took his hand with both of hers. His fingers were rough and calloused, his fingernails cracked with dirt underneath. They were the most wonderful fingers she had ever touched. “Warrior… hands.”

  “You have the hands of a princess, soft as velvet.” He grinned. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

  "They're coming," the German called out, and Greywolf let go of her to shift around on the ledge so he could see out once more. Wysper turned as well and looked past his shoulder. At least a hundred men in leather jerkins were marching more or less in step towards the building, each with a quiver of arrows at his side. Their legs were bare with sandal straps wrapped around each ankle to the knee. Behind them, the shadowed outline of armored men with shields and spears halted as the archers continued marching forward.

  In their hands they held short bows with an arrow set into the bowstring. Someone yelled a command and they halted, well within bow-shot, while several men in tunics came running up carrying pots of smoldering rocks by their handles. They placed them between the archers in the front row before turning around and running back the way they came. The German glanced back at them. "Flame-stone," he said in a cheerful voice. "Dip your arrow into the soft stone and it clings to the wood, letting you set fire to anything burnable, starting with the shutters if we close them."

  "I thought flame-stone was expensive," the craggy warrior growled as a tall woman in white robes, and a shorter, brown haired burly man in robes of dark blue, strode towards the High Priest’s house between the ranks of the archers.

  "It is," the German said with a shrug. "But I'm guessing blood-corn's a lot more valuable."

  The pair of robed figures stepped in front of the first row of archers and stopped. "War-leader Kula," the woman said in a husky voice, "I am Tannaz, head priestess for the temple of Ix-Chel, and this is Farzod, head priest for the temple of the Lord of Storms. I apologize for this show of force, but the High Priests of our respective temples commanded us to alter the terms of our agreement and stamp out Bukhara's desire to regain their independence."

  Priest Farzod shrugged. "Nor will they allow a new kingdom on lands the Sasnayam Empire claims. We tried convincing them this was a truly bad idea, double-crossing the Crimson Horde, but you know, temple and empire politics and all that."

  The craggy warrior Kula folded his arms across his chest. "How do you know so much about us?"

  Priestess Tannaz gave him a painful look. "Kula, please. You have spies, but we have better ones."

  "Had," Zanzabel leaning on me as she yelled out the window, fury stark on her face. "Redhunter took a Battle-axe to the chest, and I am just sorry Muzen was the one who killed him and not me."

  "Zanzabel," Tannaz purred, "so glad to see you are still alive. I personally plan to send your head to Queen Zenobia in a sack."

  "What a coincidence," Kula called out with a savage smile. "I'm planning to send both of yours to Tesiphon the same way."

  "Enough," Priest Farzod roared. "Kula, these are the terms we offer. You and all your warriors will give up your weapons, whereupon you will be marched out the front gate and across the bridge, to go where you will. Muzen will be given to us, wrapped in golden chains, as will the Shadow-walker, Greywolf.” They want him as well? Are Shadow-walkers that prized? “All of Muzen's retainers must be killed, especially the three Celtic Priestesses who by their paleness are obviously not human, but Revenants of Ghash-Kimil, and their bodies laid out in the Temple of Yun-Kax.

  “You may loot both temples of their valuables, but the blood-corn remains here with us. The Crimson Horde will then pack up and move eastward, out of Bukhara's lands, or north if you want to terrorize the Lords of Khor. We truly do not care. These are our terms which are not negotiable. So, are you ready to accept these conditions?"

  Kula burst out laughing. "Let me offer you another choice. How about I shove my sword so far up your arse it tickles your nose, while the woman beside you dances naked for the Great Khan before we make her a bed-slave. Those are my conditions, also not negotiable."

  Muzen must have spoken to Titan, for he was on his feet with the Ogri's sword point against his back, moving towards the open window. "Tannaz, Farzod," he called out, "bide a moment while I speak with the War-leader."

  Kula whirled around, the suspicion on his face mirrored by the two head priests, but Muzen spoke to him in a quiet voice and Kula's face grew thoughtful. "Fox, bring the African woman and join us." Zanzabel and the small Daemo traded suspicious looks, but both moved towards them.

  This is not going to end well. I am going to die tonight, either by fire or at the end of a blade, and I will not squander what little happiness I can get. Wysper’s fingers touched the side of Greywolf's face. Startled, he turned back towards her, trying not to wince but failing badly as Wysper smiled. "Last... kiss?"

  "It's not going to be a last anything for us. I swore I'd protect you and I mean it. I—” Putting her face next to his, their lips touched, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as their tongues met. She felt wicked but did not care as she pressed her body against his armored chest. No one was going to steal this last moment of sweetness away from her.

  Then Priest Farzod called out, "War-leader Kula, if you do not accept these terms right now, I shall order the archers to—”

  "Farzod." Muzen walked to the window as Wysper let Greywolf go so they could both look out onto the plaza. "You know these terms are meant to spark a war with the Crimson Horde."

  The burly priest grimaced. "Exactly what am I supposed to do? You need to be ground into the dirt and the nobles distracted from their desire to wage war against the Empire of the East. By the time the barbarians decide to attack, our army will be strengthened by the blood-corn and ready to hold out until the Emperor's forces arrive."

  "Or the warriors now assembling downstairs, all of who wear Artifact armor, will come charging out and not stop until all of your soldiers are dead. Farzod, I am too weak to do anything requiring more than a trickle of mana, so let me come down and discuss a compromise." He opened his arms. "Beginning with a full confession of my guilt upon the steps of the Storm Lord’s Bukhara temple."

  Wysper said softly in Greywolf’s ear, “That would be a major coup for Farzod.”

  Tannaz gave the other priest a dark look as Farzod smiled. "Such an action would please our High Priest."

  "We cannot trust him," Tannaz hissed.

  "I shall come down empty handed," Muzen said, "and give you my word of honor not to unleash any offensive spell against you." He chuckled. "To be honest, I am so spent I would likely fall down if I tried. Bide a moment and I will be right there." He stepped away from the window and walked deeper inside, Titan still at his back with the sword.

  Muzen's gaze swept over all of them. "Since I am to confess my crimes, let me begin here. Truly, I am guilty of hubris, and underestimating my opponents, especially Greywolf." Muzen’s gaze fixed itself upon him. "I was wrong; you are your mother's son... and on the day I slay her, you shall become mine."

  Fatigue must have been washing over Greywolf, for he had begun leaning against Wysper, but for a moment anger pushed it aside as he sat up. "Never. If you go up against her, Asena will kill you and I'll be there to help."

  Muzen raised one painted eyebrow. "We will see. This is not over between us, Greywolf, but is merely beginning. The same goes for the rest of you, but especially Wysper." His gaze seemed to look past Greywolf and into her eyes. "You have not seen the last of me."

  "Perhaps," Titan rumbled, pushing Muzen towards the door with the point of his sword, "but the first of you is trying my patience." Muzen chuckled as he let himself be herded out the doorway.

  A few moments later he walked out alone onto the plaza, stopping midway between the building and the archers. He turned around. "Kula," Muzen called out, “we will speak soon." A grey mist formed in front of the Daemo with silvery grey hair; she stepped into it, and vanished...

  Reappearing again right in front of Muzen. She handed him something before stepping through another gateway back into the Shadowlands. A grey oval formed and she reappeared beside Wysper. "And so it begins," the Daemo said in a soft voice.

  Muzen, holding the blue Gem of Return in his hand, turned around and began speaking the words of invocation. Tannaz whirled about and took off running as Farzod screamed at the archers. They lifted their bows and took aim.

  Muzen disappeared as the plaza exploded