Amazonia - Death and the Maiden

Everything has become strange, as if I walk within a dream where the world is illusion and only the dead are real.

My Necromantic Legion marches as best they can behind me towards the Temple District's gates, the ones who had been warriors wearing the bronze armor they stripped off both the dead and the injured soldiers, scimitars in one hand and a round shield strapped to the other. Others who had soldier training in life carry spears or other scavenged weapons, while the rest have either picked up broken paving stones, or will rely on their bony fingers and teeth.

Cermet's been busy, for reinforcements are shambling towards us from the direction of the Ghash-Kimil temple, most in rags but one in a bloodstained white cloak. I wave at them to follow as we reach the gates. The almost full moon overhead gives more than enough light to see that the Khanda swordsmen have barred the heavy wooden doors, with a scout keeping himself behind the white, twin-figured statue of Yun-Kax sticking out of the outside wall at the center of the gatehouse. Beyond the walls are the sounds of a mob not far off, the noise rising and falling like the voice of the sea.

The Khanda swordsmen draw back and the scout hurries back down the stone stairs as I raise my fist to halt the legion. "Where's Prince Timur?"

"Here," he calls out, striding towards me with his two Bloodguards and the Chaldeans, minus the Daemo, behind. "The rest of Bukhara's army is outside the gates, with a lot of drunken townspeople beyond them." He motions to where a group of perhaps fifty soldiers bearing Artifact crossbows are running towards us across the plaza. "I've ordered Captain Tang to support us while the rest of his men guard the Blood corn."

I nod. "Does his highness want us to attack?"

Prince Timur strokes his beard as a sly smile touches his lips. "Not yet. The woman in white robes who's approaching, can you get her to join us?"

Giving him a puzzled look, I turn and point straight at her, then motion for the robed figure to join me. She nods and makes a beeline straight towards us as I look at the prince. "I assume she's important?"

"Before coming over here, I met with Cermet. She told me she'd found an outrider of my people who had blood magic like the girl Muzen used to sacrifice does. Cermet said the woman had been betrayed by her lover to the Ghash-Kimil priests, horribly tortured and killed, and then thrown into the charnel pits. Evidently the blood red hair remains even after death."

Glancing over my shoulder as she gets close, the outrider’s red hair has been raggedly shorn to resemble Wysper's, with yellow ribbons tied at her temples and braided to resemble golden bangs. My lips peel back in the rictus of a smile. "I see. Are you planning to use this pretend Wysper as a hostage?"

From the pouch at his belt he pulls out a small, black speaking device with a metal hook attached, curved to go behind the ear. "I have a better idea. But first, I need to know if you always have to tell the truth, or if you can lie at need."

"My prince, I can lie through my teeth if I have to." Captain Tang joins us as I ask, "What is it you want me to do?"

Prince Timur explains his plan, but as he finishes, Captain Tang frowns. "I am worried about the battle becoming chaotic, and these... things, getting out of hand. How will they know friend from foe?"

I reply, "They'll know who's on our side, because they see what I see." I motion towards his mercenaries milling about, their fear stark upon their faces. "Your Xian soldiers have battle flags attached to their backs, with Chin' characters written in large red brush strokes. If any of my legion sees that, they'll know not to attack, and to help you if they can."

Captain Tang blinks as if astonished. "We have not worn such flags since we left Xian in disgrace."

I shrug. "I can only tell you what I see."

"What about the Khanda swordsmen?" Prince Timur asks.

"Boar tusks that curve out from the sides of their mouths. The Chosen have the wind cloak of Tengri flowing behind them from their shoulders, while the Chaldeans are enclosed within the red lines of the tattoo they have drawn on their backs, which move in the same manner as the Chaldean. The Bukharan's, though, have slave collars made of lion manes around their necks, while anyone from the Sasnayam empire, like the officers in steel armor, have lion's wings coming out of their backs." Both men give me strange looks and I add, "That's how my legion will know who is who on the battlefield."

Prince Timur asks, "Do I have tusks as well?"

I nod. "Yours are larger and more fierce than anyone else's."

For some reason that answer seems to please him. "Captain Tang, once Amazonia begins speaking, have your crossbowmen creep up the stairs and arrange themselves without our enemies being the wiser." The captain salutes with a fist to his heart and hurries back to his men, as Prince Timur hands me the speaking device. "This is simple to operate, according to Cermet. Just tap it once to turn it on, and again to turn it off."

I hook the device behind my ear. It fits comfortably, the black cylinder sticking out slightly, and as I adjust it, he says, "Az, I know you've got to lie to make this work, but you wouldn't ever lie to me, would you?"

In my Shadowed state I haven't the least bit of remorse or guilt as I change my expression to the most reassuring mask I can manage. "My prince, why would I? The oath I swore you cannot be broken until the sword shatters, and besides, you and I want the same things. Why would I ever want to betray you?"

He sighs as worry lines crease his face. "I know you wouldn't, but with everything moving so fast... It's nerves, that's all. Just nerves."

I clasp his armored shoulder as I put my face close to his. "Someday you'll sit upon the throne your father sits on now. Let me tell you something you need to remember for the future: tomorrow, I will likely tell you that I never want to become a Shadow Knight ever again. But right here, right now, I'm telling you that I want nothing more than to be exactly what I am, and to bring you victories no one else ever could. Remember the prophecy Yasataar gave you?"

"That there would be glory... and my name would be remembered."

I slap him lightly on the shoulder as my lips peel back in a grin. "Just so. Together, we'll have the entire Sasnayam empire groveling at your feet. You'll see." His fierce smile returns, making his boar tusks quiver as I turn and head for the stairs leading up to the battlement over the gatehouse.

The noise of the crowd grows louder as I climb up the stairs, my sandals slapping stone as I reach the battlements and walk to the center of the gate where the statue of Yun-Kax stands overlooking the city.

The light of the fat moon overhead shows a thousand or so spearmen in bronze armor standing in separate companies, their spears pointed straight upward with their shields drooping or resting on their armored knees. The wind must be cold for there's soldiers who are shivering, yet I can only feel its breath upon my cheek, nor can I smell the odors it must be bringing. Strange, yet I still see the bright colors of the tunics and dresses worn by the citizens, milling about just beyond the soldier's ordered ranks. At least a full company of them are using their spears lengthwise like a fence to keep the people back.

Farther down the road leading into the city, a dozen or so men are bringing ladders; it looks like I'm just in time. I position myself behind the statue so I can't be seen, then call out in Greco-Roma, "Who's in charge?"

From in front of the leading rank, a man wearing steel armor and bearing a magnificent pair of wings covered in lion fur instead of feathers, looks up. "I, Commander Hassan of the house Raad, lead the army of Bukhara. The time for parley is over."

"I agree. Prince Timur of the People of the Eternal Sky, the ones you call the White Horde, is giving you and your army one last chance to save yourselves. Withdraw to the Royal governor's palace with your soldiers, and we will take the Blood corn back to our encampment without sacking Bukhara. Otherwise, you and your men will all die."

"The only thing anyone will be taking back to your encampment will be your heads in wicker baskets."

The Xian mercenaries are crab-walking into position around me, keeping their heads beneath the crenelations of the wall as I shrug. "It's your funeral pyre." Then I tap the device in my ear, which glows blue a moment before settling down again. "People of Bukhara," my words projecting outward across the city as the crowd quiets, "I am here to tell you how your Sasnayam masters have betrayed you."

The woman in white robes crawls on her hands and knees to join me as I continue. "The Sasnayam temple of Ghash-Kimil has corrupted the priestess known to you as Wysper, so they could raise the dead they'd thrown into the charnel pits, and send them against the White Horde."

The crowd's gone silent, though I can hear Commander Hassan urgently barking out orders in their language as the dead outrider reaches the statue. I motion for her to stand up behind me and stay hidden as I say, "However, Prince Timur discovered the plot, and bribed the priests of Ghash-Kimil to join us against you in exchange for gold."

Those who speak Greco-Roma must be translating for the others, for the crowd's muttering is turning ugly. I motion for the woman in white to stand on the crenelation beside the statue. "Some of you must think I'm lying, but I'll prove to you I'm not. Behold Blood-Wysper."

The dead outrider steps up onto the narrow stone with one hand on the statue for balance. Behind the soldiers, many in the crowd gasp and point as voices cry out her name. They begin pushing against the spearmen holding them back, surging against the soldiers like an angry sea throwing waves against a seawall. The crowd's breaking through in places as I tug on the woman's robe. "Behold what the priests of Ghash-Kimil have done to Blood-Wysper." She releases the tie holding her white robes in place.

It falls in a puddle of cloth at her feet, the dead woman standing nude in the moonlight. Her arms are horribly twisted, likely from the tortures she endured while alive, and the skin on her chest's been torn away, leaving the bones of her ribs exposed. There are open sores on her hips and legs as well.

In death she's not as pale as the living girl, and her body's stronger boned, but the crowd sees what they believe to be true and screams in horror, in outrage, and then in fury as they attack the spearmen holding them back. The company holding the line dissolves in chaos as individual soldiers also begin yelling and throwing down their spears as they shake their fists.

My lips curl back in a smile as an idea takes shape. "Soldiers of Bukhara, the dead who've crawled out of the charnel pits want revenge on the Sasnayams and all those who fight for them. Rise up, break your slave collars, and the dead will become your allies. Rise up and be slaves to the Sasnayams no longer."

One soldier close to the growing chaos in the back hurls his spear at a steel armored man with small lion wings. "Inanna," he screams, drawing his scimitar as the spear glances off the man's steel helm, staggering him. Others around him yell the same thing and throw down their spears as the dead woman turns her head. "Inanna was the goddess Bukhara used to worship before the Sasnayams forced their own religion on the people," she says in the tongue of the dead. "Many still worship her in secret."

The rictus of my smile grows fierce. "People of Bukhara," my words echoing off the buildings, "I am Inanna. Rise up and tear down these false gods of the Sasnayams, and let Bukhara become free once more." More and more soldiers are throwing down their spears, and fights are breaking out among the ranks as the first soldier reaches the Sasnayam officer.

Horns have begun growing out from the young soldier's temples, curling around in a corkscrew as he swings his scimitar at the officer's head. But the older man pulls back in time and the sword slices only air. The officer draws his own scimitar as the soldier's back swing bounces off steel chain, but more soldiers with curling horns are joining the fight as the rear companies dissolve into chaos as well. Near the wall, Commander Hassan barks an order.

Arrows begin hissing up towards me. One pings as it bounces off an Artifact plate at my shoulder, while others whine past or smash themselves against the statue. But several arrows pierce the red haired woman's nude body. She staggers, clutching at the statue for support as she lurches forward, trying to keep her balance, her arms awkwardly windmilling as she pitches forward off the wall.

She lands face first on the paving stones in front of the gate and the crowd screams as one. "They've killed Blood-Wysper."

"Murderers!"

"Death to the Sasnayams."

"Inanna!" The goddess' name becomes the battle cry of those sprouting curled horns as Captain Tang begins shouting orders. A quarter of his crossbowmen rise up and start shooting, screams erupting from down below as they crank out their five shots and drop back down to reload, while the next quarter of the mercenaries take their place.

I tap the device to turn it off and move to the top of the gate where the Khanda swordsmen and my Necromantic warriors are waiting. In the language of the dead, I call out, "Legion, those with curling horns fight with us, and spare all those who no longer wear the lion mane collars. Kill everyone else." The legion raises their weapon or clenched fist to show they understand as I leap off the gatehouse onto the plaza below, knowing such a fall would normally break both my legs.

My legs absorb the impact as I land on the paving stones in a crouch. I nod to Prince Timur, who yells an order in their language as I stand up straight and motion for my legion to march. The glorious dead shamble towards me as the Khanda swordsmen remove the wooden bar across the doors, then swing them open before pressing themselves against the stone wall as I lead my legion through the open gateway.

Commander Hassan has knelt beside the dead woman as two other Sasnayam soldiers hold shields over him against the crossbow bolts, buzzing around them like angry hornets. He flips her over onto her back, the arrows sticking out of her chest broken off in the fall, and his lips curl back in a snarl. "This is not the priestess but an impostor. Where is that priest with the speaking device? I need to tell the crowd this was all a trick-"

The red haired outrider grabs him by the front of his armor and pulls herself up as if she would kiss him. Instead, he screams as he pushes her off, a piece of his cheek in her mouth as she falls back. She spits it out as he staggers to his feet, my sword already singing in my hands as he looks at us in horror.

The grey blade shears through bone and his head falls off his neck, landing on the outrider as the dead swarm over the two other soldiers, clawing at their faces with rotted fingers as they pull them down, while others without weapons shamble past. The outrider gets to her knees and holds up the head with her hand squeezing the blood vessels shut. His eyes are blinking, his mouth opening and shutting as if he's trying to speak. I shake my head. "You really should've taken Prince Timur's offer." His mouth opens in a silent scream.

Then the face goes slack. "My liege," the outrider says, "may I ask Mistress Cermet to bring him back so I might keep his head with me? I was his lover before he betrayed me to the priests."

I give her a brusque nod. "You have my blessing.” She cradles the head in her hands like it’s an infant as I call out, “Legion, those without weapons continue helping our allies. Everyone with a weapon follow me. We're heading for the Royal Governor's palace." My army splits into two, and more screaming begins as the dead shamble past me towards the fight.

I turn towards the city and the rest follow, with the rattle of brass and the tramp of many feet behind me as my legion and I march down the road into Bukhara.