Amazonia - Funeral Games

"Az, are you ready to go?"

Today was Prince Timur's 'funeral’, and the guest of honor was wearing a dark blue tunic with red trim at the cuffs and hem, with matching trousers. His cuffs were neatly tucked into his boots. As per tradition, he wore a heavy gold chain as a protection against magic, but no sword or even a knife. However, his other two Bloodguards and I were in full armor, and carried bladed weapons in case of trouble.

Right now, the only trouble was between Greywolf and his mother. "I'm not leaving Wysper," he said from one side of the beaded curtain before I could answer Timur. "She needs me right now and you don't. Besides, I've watched you fight more times than I can count; I don't need to watch you and Titan pound on each other."

"Fine," Asena growled back from the side closest to the door. She had on full armor, leather and chainmail, with a blunted longsword in one hand and a blunted fighting axe in the other. I didn't even know she owned an open faced steel helm until she came out wearing it. "As soon as Wysper wakes up, which will be soon, get her dressed and fed, then get your arse over to the arena. Once I’ve won the fight, we are going to shake the dust of this place off our heels."

"It's your fault she's this way. What were you thinking?"

Asena made a disgusted noise and stomped out the open doorway into the brisk air, leaving behind a trail of sour wine fumes. Prince Timur watched her go, then turned to me with his eyebrows raised. "What's that all about?"

"After they left Ishtar and her cronies,” I replied, “Asena took Wysper on a tour of every wine shoppe in Bukhara, including a few real dives." Timur reared back in surprise and I smiled. "When Asena returned her here last night, I asked Wysper if she was drunk and she said: 'A Celt is never drunk if she can hold onto a single blade of grass and not fall off the edge of the world'."

Timur reminded me of a baffled bear as he shook his head. "That makes no sense."

Remembering last night, I couldn't help but chuckle. "The girl thought it so witty she giggled over it until Greywolf put her to bed."

"At least this means I will not have to suffer Greywolf's presence this morning." He glanced back behind us and lowered his voice. "Is that the Daemo agent of the Eastern Empire spy?"

The smile left my face as I glanced back as well. In the far, shadowed corner of the room, a manlike Daemo with a bald head and lumpy skin the color of ground mustard seed, was sitting on a cushion at one of the low tables. A piece of parchment lay in front of him, which he was writing upon with a stylus and ink. Little Paulus sat beside the Daemo, speaking quietly, with the Nomads on either side. At the next table, Balthazar's four burly guards, who had just delivered a large chest packed with several more small wine casks, were eating breakfast.

I turned back to Timur. "It is. Since the agent's supposed to be a merchant making sure Little Paulus is still alive, the Daemo's taking down a letter telling the emperor that he's well, and chronicling our adventures in a general way."

Prince Timur frowned. "I'm uncomfortable with the Eastern Empire knowing so much about our plans."

"My prince," his Bloodguard Gur said, "I was drinking last night in a brothel with Troll and the Lycaon brothers, and we overheard several merchants arguing over when we will march south."

"I've heard the same," Argat added. "My prince, by spring the news of our upcoming campaign will have traveled all the way to Tesiphon and beyond."

"I'd march us earlier," Timur growled, "but this is going to be a wolf winter." With a hand he motioned towards the west. "Yesterday, I rode with Porthos to a sheltered valley not far from the city, which the Sasnayam governor used as his private hunting estate. It would be perfect for the People to settle into were it not for the old fool’s stubbornness."

"I may have a solution," Lys' voice said from the open doorway. Dressed in new brown robes matching Karl's tunic and trousers, she sat on his shoulder, lightly kicking his chest with her bare feet. "Walk with me out here where eager ears cannot hear us." I glanced over my shoulder.

The Daemo had stopped writing to watch us instead. His dark eyes met mine and quickly looked away, his misshapen head turning back towards Little Paulus with an apologetic smile and quiet words. My own eyes narrowed. Behind me, Timur and the other two were following Karl and Lys out the door, but I lingered a moment to beckon the Nomads over. They rose to their feet and joined me. "Domina?"

"Keep a wary eye on the Daemo," I breathed into their ears. "Something about it doesn't feel right."

"We will, Domina," they replied in unison. I nodded as they headed back to the table, and I turned toward the door, closing it behind me as I stepped outside.

Grey clouds were hanging low over the area, threatening rain, but at least it was a little warmer than it had been as I adjusted the Rune sword sheathed at my back and joined the others.

Karl pulled out a folded piece of parchment and handed it to Timur. "The priestess Akbal found this when she was going through the chambers belonging to the head priest of Bukhara's Ghash-Kimil temple." Timur unfolded it as Karl added, "It's a map detailing the weak spots between the worlds, each one marked with the symbol of a dead tree, and a building symbol around the tree indicating the size of the ruin that once guarded it."

As we began walking towards the main street, I glanced at the map over his shoulder. It showed all the lands of the Sasnayam empire and its satrapies, along with part of the Eastern Empire's provinces and the independent kingdoms north of the Sasnayams, with the major cities and roads clearly marked. The dead tree markings went from tiny to huge and there were a lot of them scattered around the map. Timur frowned as he looked up. "What were they doing with such a map?"

"And is it accurate?" I added.

"Akbal showed me documents hinting that Ghash-Kimil planned something similar to what we are doing," Lys said in a sly voice, "and while I have no idea if the map is accurate or not, I have no reason to doubt it. Prince Timur, do you see the tree symbol close to the border where the lands of Bukhara meet Amul to the west and Marakanda to the south?"

Timur nodded. "There's a large tree symbol surrounded by the symbol for a big ruin."

Karl said, "When I asked Porthos about the place, he gave me a long tale about a fortified Babylonian temple complex that was abandoned during a time when the Shadowlands spilled over into the real world, bringing the Shadow creatures with it. He claims it's still haunted."

As we reached the main road and turned left, Timur handed the map back to Karl, who tucked it away as Timur stroked his beard. "Haunted or not, the location's perfect as a staging point." He frowned. "However, if the Shambler army is spotted going south, our enemies will find out."

"Not if we march them by night," Lys said, "especially if it is raining. The map indicates there are enough grey stunted trees close by to act as way stations, where we can hole up during the day and replenish the troops."

"I'll have to lead them," I said in a sharp voice. "Does that mean I'm spending the winter with the dead?"

"Not at all," Lys replied. "You and I will get them down there along with Cermet, who will then control the hundred or so we leave as guards and watchers. The rest will remain hidden away while you and I return to Bukhara."

Relief washed over me even though my face remained impassive. Timur glanced at me with a knowing smile, then turned his head towards Karl. "Does Porthos know about this map?"

Karl shook his head. "Only the six of us and Akbal, who's almost as close mouthed as Inanna's corpse." A smile touched his lips. "You should see that corpse fight, though. What it lacks in speed, it makes up for in sheer brute power."

Timur smiled back. "Excellent. That reminds me: where do we stand with arming and armoring the dead-"

They went on speaking about logistics and the disruption of trade, but I lost what they were saying as we approached the entrance plaza between the main gate and the road leading to the Temple district. Vendors with wooden carts, or just blankets laid out on the paving stones, were waving and shouting at the members of the White Horde streaming in through the open city gates. I frowned as I remembered something Greywolf said last night. "My prince, I thought the games were supposed to be held on the other side of the river."

"They were," he replied, "but after the betrothal ritual ended in such a disaster, my father rode out to the small village just beyond the bridge, and we talked as rational men. Nothing was decided except to hold the games here as a way to desecrate the Sasnayam's sacred temples and spit in their eye, in a sense."

The noise of the crowd was getting too loud to talk without shouting ourselves, Timur having to raise his voice at the end, and it only got worse as we joined the mob of people gawking at the buildings or lingering over the wares.

Timur seemed to be in no hurry, accepting well wishes from practically everyone, the people dressed either in leather and fur or linen and wool cloaks. The noble women wore wide bands of thin gold plate across their foreheads, each with strings of multi-colored beads hanging off them. We eventually walked through the Temple district gateway, and continued on until we reached the central plaza, where the four largest pyramids still stood.

In the center of the plaza, a stone platform the size of the fighting area in a small arena, had been put together, rising up several feet above the plaza's paving stones. Stone stairs on either side led to the top.

The White Horde nobles were being directed to sit on the steps and ledges of the largest pyramid to the far right, which was west, while the commoners got the other three, though most were going for the two closest pyramids on either side. Everyone was doing business with more vendors selling grilled meat, or filling wooden cups from their large wine flagons.

Looking around at the spectacle, I shook my head in disbelief. Timur stopped as well. "Az, is something wrong?"

I shook my head no. "Apologies, my prince, but for a moment it was like being back in the arena... except, on the wrong side."

"Not only the wrong side," Lys said from her perch, "but you get to sit in the emperor's box as well. Look straight ahead."

A stone platform painted dark red, rising up as tall as Titan and about as wide and long, overlooked the fighting area. "It's actually the funeral bier," Timur said in a sardonic voice. I couldn't keep the look of shock off my face and he chuckled. "Blame the first khan of the People for starting this tradition."

Karl said, "Prince Timur, once you're burned in effigy, you'll be able to begin traditions of your own."

Timur clapped him on the shoulder. "Now that, my friend, is a worthy thought. Where will you sit?"

Before Karl could answer, Lys pointed at the far pyramid. "I can see Dancer and Fox sitting together. Let's join them."

Karl squinted as he looks up. "They're almost at the top. If they go any higher they'll get nosebleeds."

"You're just being fussy because you don't want to climb the stairs."

"Do you blame me?"

"You need the exercise." Lys grabbed his braid and shook it. "Come on, horsey, up those stairs."

Karl rolled his eyes but started towards the far pyramid as we reached the red platform and climbed up. Timur sat down directly in the middle, then motioned for me to sit at his right hand, with Argat taking his left, and Gur sitting directly behind the prince, guarding his back.

As people continue filing in, we talked about the upcoming combat as I scanned the area for any threats. Karl and Lys joined Dancer and Fox on the ledge just below the top, Lys motioning at Dancer, who nodded. He took off his cloak and began throwing it over Fox, probably for warmth as Daemo hate the cold.

My gaze left them and wandered down to the space between their pyramid and the largest one across from us. Individual wooden pens had been built there, each stall holding one of the Warghorses the khans would use in the upcoming race. The beasts were being fed a mixture of raw meat and fruit, which Timur had told me Warghorses love, by two young men carrying a large wooden bucket. A third man scooped out each portion into their trough. The three moved to the pen holding the silver muzzled Warghorse of Khan Khingla, ladled the mixture, and moved on.

A grey mist formed behind them as a pale arm tossed a purple piece of fruit into the trough. I blinked.

Nothing, just the old Warghorse trotting up to the feeding trough and sticking his head in. I whipped my head around towards Dancer.

Fox was sitting there beside him, Dancer adjusting the cloak as Fox looked in my direction and frantically began to wave. Dancer waved as well, and I raised my hand in acknowledgment as Timur chuckled. "For a Daemo, she's certainly enthusiastic. We know where the twins are and Dancer, but where are the other two?"

Gur replied before I could. "Passed out in the brothel where I left them, early this morning, my prince."

I snorted. "At least that'll keep Troll out of trouble for a while." Horns blew and a roar went up among the crowd as Titan and Asena strode out from opposite sides toward the platform. As they approached the stairs on either side, my gaze went back to the silver muzzled Warghorse. Did I actually see something? I'm not sure. I could mention it to Timur, but then he'll be honor bound to say something to his father, which will cause an uproar. The Warghorse was acting no different than before; if anything, he seemed friskier, trotting around the pen as if he can't wait to begin racing.

Breathe, Az. Breathe, remain stoic, keep silent, and forget you saw anything at all.

Titan wore chainmail with steel chest and back plates, a closed faced helm, and carried a tower shield of wood banded with iron in his left hand and a blunted metal sword in his right. I motioned towards him. "My prince, Titan's never had this much protection in all the fights we had in the arena. There's no way he can lose."

"I don't know," Argat said, leaning forward to gaze at me. "The Wolf-mother looks hungry."

I extended my right arm towards him. "Gold to silver that Titan wins."

Argat grinned. "Tengri knows you've been letting us drink for free, so I'll hate to take your coin."

"If you take Az's coin," Timur said, "then you can use it to buy Titan a round." Having Timur's blessing, Argat and I clasped forearms, sealing the bet as Prince Varsena climbed up the stairs behind Titan.

The crowd quieted as he inserted Muzen's device into his ear, tapped it once, and began speaking to them in their harsh language. After a little while he paused.

Then began speaking again. "People of the Eternal Sky and our friends of Bukhara," he said in Greco-Roma, " be welcome, and accept our thanks for helping us pay a final tribute to my dead-to-us brother, Timur. Although the Great Khan said the games would be held on our side of the river, he felt showing the Sasnayams the degree of contempt all of us hold for them, justified having the games take place here."

"He called me 'prince' when he spoke to the People," Timur grumbled. "He just had to get one last dig in."

I traded a look with the other two Bloodguards but said nothing as Varsena went on for a bit about their traditions, before asking the warriors if they had anything to say. Titan shook his head, but when he looked at Asena she growls at him, and Varsena said, "The warrior Asena asks if her son Greywolf is among those watching."

Khingla, wearing what looked like riding leathers, called out something from the opposite side. Varsena nodded. "The Great Khan thought Greywolf should be here as well, and sent his son, Crown Prince Avitohol, to find him and bring him here."

Asena turned towards the largest pyramid and raised her sword in salute. The old man raised his hand in acknowledgment as Varsena turned and headed towards the stairs, Timur muttering something about Avitohol being called crown prince as a storm cloud darkened his expression. I decided I’d best do something to distract him. "My prince, what are the rules of this combat?"

Timur left off muttering and glanced at me. "If you're knocked off the platform, you have to climb back up on your own or be eliminated. Otherwise, the fight continues until one is knocked out, too injured to continue, or dead."

Obviously no thumbs up or thumbs down. "My prince," I said as Titan and Asena began circling each other, "regardless of what happens, you have two of the greatest living fighters on Earth battling each other in your honor."

"More like a grudge match," Timur said with a sour smile.

"Maybe so," Argat said from his other side, "but when the events of the day are recorded in history, it will be remembered who the fighters were, not why they fought. My prince, today your legend begins.”

Timur began stroking his beard, his expression thoughtful as Asena attacked.