Greywolf - 'Stealing' Wysper

As we reach the far end of the stone bridge next to the encampment, we're met by a bristling wood of spears wielded by warriors with overlapping white shields. From behind them, a young man's voice calls out, "What is the meaning of this outrage?"

Is he serious? Moving to the edge of the iron spearpoints, I reply, "My name's Greywolf, son of Asena, and I've come to offer challenge for the right to betroth Prince Varsena's guest-daughter Wysper. Now, get out of my way."

Instead of ordering his spearmen to let us by, he spits out, "I shall do nothing of the sort. That dragon illusion was meant to sow fear, and I will not allow-"

"That illusion was my way of letting you know the Black Dragon clan's here," Hypam calls out from behind me. "Since none of your warriors has the least shred of honor, me and my warriors are going to defend Greywolf so he can steal Wysper in the traditional way of our peoples."

"This is a ceremony for the People of the Eternal Sky, only. Barbarians are not allowed."

Avitohol joins me. "These are warriors of my mother's people who've participated in our ceremonies before."

I'm shivering a little just standing here in the cold wind, but I'm not going to give into it as the leader sniffs. "So? I have command here, and I am not letting barbarians past our shields."

Shite, enough is enough. "Why? Are the Black Dragon warriors so fierce that you're afraid you'll wet yourself as they walk by?"

Two gauntleted hands shove the center shields aside, and a young noble in barely used Artifact armor stalks forward until he's close enough for me to punch. "Just for that, I'm not letting anyone else inside to help you either." He stabs a finger at my face. "There is no way any of us are going to let that old man declare Timur dead. He is the rightful heir and future khan of the People, and the sooner he takes command, the better."

Avitohol's hands clench into fists. "I'll have you flogged for that. The Great Khan made me his heir, not Timur."

"Go ahead and try," the noble sneers down at him. "You aren't fit to lick Timur's boots."

The noble looks up and his eyes go wide. Glancing back, Hypam's still got her bow, but now with an arrow nocked and aimed at the noble's face. "Insult my cousin's honor one more time, and you'll be licking the feet of the slave-spirits in the Afterworld."

From behind the shields a woman's voice barks out an order. At once, the spears are pulled back, then raised to an upright position, the middle spearmen moving aside for three women in well made clothing. They round on the noble and begin berating him in their language, overriding him every time he tries to defend himself, until he finally throws up his hands and walks away. The spearmen look around at each other.

Then they begin moving out of the way so we'll be able to pass. Hypam eases off on the bow and replaces the arrow in her quiver as Avitohol's mother, Khojin, strides up to her. Hypam lowers her head so the woman can kiss both her cheeks, before listening meekly to whatever Khojin's telling her in a no nonsense voice.

The other two women turn towards me. "Apologies for the young man's arrogance," the younger one says, "but tempers are running like wild dogs tonight."

No shite. "I'm not the one who insisted we tie our betrothal to Timur's fate."

"We realize that," the older one says, "which is why we want you to turn around and walk away before someone gets hurt."

I can't believe I'm hearing this. "After everything that's happened, you really expect me to do that?" I motion back towards Avitohol, who's standing with his mother and the rest, all of them watching me. "He's staked his honor, and probably his chance to be khan, on my betrothing Wysper the way the Great Khan wants it. There's no way I'll betray him."

"This is going to tear the People apart," she hisses.

I bend down and place my face close to hers. "And exactly why should I care? I helped Asena kill the trolls who were preying on your children, then snuck your raiding party through the Shadowlands and into Bukhara." I wave my arms as my voice rises. "Did I ask for Blood Corn, or gold, or for anything else? No, all I wanted, and all I still want, is to be with the woman I've fallen in love with. That's it."

Her face sets in hard lines as I lower my arms and draw myself up. "I'm going up against the Chosen; alone, if I have to, and when this is over I'll stand with Avitohol. I've seen the horrors Timur's actions unleashed in Bukhara, and in comparison, Avitohol's silk while Timur's soiled linen."

The younger woman looks embarrassed, but the older one draws back like a snake ready to bite. "If you are so eager to fight the Chosen alone, I shall make it so... and never forget what you did this night." She turns around and stalks off, the younger one giving me a worried look before hurrying after her.

"Kula's wife wouldn't know silk from sow's ear," a harsh woman's voice says from behind me. I glance down as Avitohol's mother Khojin strides up beside me. "If Timur takes over, you and Wysper marry Hypam, have place with Black Dragons."

My eyes go wide. "Wait, marry? But-"

"It'll be fun," Hypam says, laughing at my expression. She puts a calloused hand on my shoulder and propels me forward. "Don't worry: Khojin wants to see me married again, and knows that having you both tied to me will help our clan. Look, we'll get you past the Chosen, who'll be more concerned about taking us on than worrying about you, and all will be well."

"But Avitohol's mother-"

"Is thinking ahead in case something happens to the Great Khan. Right now, give the ritual challenge to Kula, and when he responds, we'll enter the circle." She makes a fist. "Luck and honor."

I make a fist back as the other warriors, including Titan, Castor, and Avitohol, do the same. Then turn around and stride out into the enormous circle, trying to look more confidant than I feel as I glance back one last time. Titan's begun organizing the group while women in the crowd are pushing their way forward, probably to get a better view.

Let's just hope it's not to watch me get pounded into a dog's dinner. Wysper, who's wearing the long, white tunic matching my trousers, is standing alone, with her arms crossed across her chest for warmth, on a low mound behind the hundred warriors of the Chosen. They're all standing in the identical pose of Kula, who's a couple horse-lengths in front of them, with arms folded across their armored chests. As I approach, he bellows, "Who dares enter this place without permission of the Khan of khans?"

I come to a halt several horse-lengths away. "I am Greywolf, son of Asena the Wolf-mother, and I've come to claim Wysper of the clan Iceni, from the Isle of Britannia. Who dares stand in my way?"

He lifts his craggy face. "I am Kula, son of-" He breaks off with a startled expression on his face, while the Chosen unfold their arms and begin muttering in low voices as a few of them point at something behind me. I turn around.

Oh, shite. Women are streaming out of the crowd and mobbing my defenders, not trying to hurt them but clinging to their arms and legs like leeches. Even Titan, who's trying to shake them off without hurting anyone, can't seem to break free, and I've completely lost sight of Avitohol.

Screams begin from behind me and I whirl around. In the light of the torches being held by the crowd standing beyond the mound, a hulking figure at least seven feet tall is slamming its way through them towards the front, with people scrambling to get out of its way. It roars in a familiar voice and terror grabs me by the throat.

I take off running straight for the Chosen, Kula yelling something at me as I pass him by, the warriors in front of me looking puzzled as I run faster. Shite, I've got to time this just right... a grey gate forms in front of a warrior, who rears back as I race straight into the Grey...

The Chosen become dark grey shadow-statues I'm running through as a voice behind me shrieks, "You cannot escape me, Shadow-walker. I will feast on your heart. The feast!"

I keep running through them full out, up the mound and past Wysper, who's in the process of turning around with a look of horror on her face as if she knows what's coming. It's Asena; she's broken free of the crowd and running straight towards Wysper. I race straight towards her as a gate forms, higher than normal, and getting close I leap into the air, curling my body into a ball as I go through the gate.

My body hits Asena's chest like a stone from a catapult. She staggers and falls as I'm slammed back, smacking against the hard ground and rolling until coming to rest at the base of the mound with my wind knocked out. Get up, idiot; Asena's shaking her head like a baffled wolf, but she'll be on her feet any moment.

Gentle hands grasp my shoulders, and I look up wildly at Wysper, who's knelt down beside me. "Greywolf, are you hurt?"

"Run," I manage to croak. "Wysper, get out of here; Asena will kill you."

"Dreaming or awake, I can never outrun her." How can someone look so sad and determined at the same time? Idiot, you've got to stand up. Asena's climbing to her feet... what's Wysper doing? She's rising... oh no, she's walking towards Asena with her arms outstretched... you've got to get up and stop her, it can't end like this.

As she approaches Asena, Wysper begins to sing in the tongue of the ancient Celts, which Asena and papa used to speak in before he left.

"In exile lives the Oldenblood,

Banished now from Heaven's land

The realm no mortal ever trod,

Nor now will fierce Celestial stand.

"Hail, Mother-wolf! Dark as death,

Thy claws black diamonds, countless maimed

Twin pits thy eyes, thy steam-hot breath,

Untamed, untamed, untamed."

Asena's stopped in front of Wysper, staring... wait, she's dropping to her knees as the song continues.

"Hail Wolf-mother, heed my call,

And lead me to the shadowed place

The Underworld of Hel's cold hall

As cold my hands, my lips, my face.

"Yet fierce Asena, hear my plea,

To grant one boon, one final task

One night of love before you free

My soul! Just this, I ask."

Asena's sides are heaving as she bows her head... she can't be crying, can she? I think she is. Wysper slowly walks towards Asena as she opens her arms. "Wolf-mother, if you will spare me, as your priestess I can help your son give you the mana your body needs to live, so you will not have to suffer the pangs of its lack."

Asena rubs her eyes with the black, leathery palms of her hands. "Priestess?"

Wysper nods. "Titan explained to me how you were cast out of the heavens, then cursed, and how the Shadow-walker Ghostdog gave you a son who could supply most of your needs. If you spare me, I can supply the rest."

She draws herself up. "However, if you still wish to take my life, it is yours. All I ask is one night with Greywolf, one night," Wysper's rubbing at her eyes, "with someone who loves me for myself, and not because of the growth ripped out of my belly time and again."

"No!" I stagger to my feet. "Not just one night, but every night for the rest of your life, if you want." Asena glares at me and I meet her eyes straight on. "If you kill Wysper, then you'll never see me again."

Asena's eyes narrow. "Greywolf-"

"I can't live like this! Not anymore." Asena and Wysper are both staring at me as I stab my finger at Asena's face. "Maybe you think you're protecting me from getting hurt, or something, and if she's dead I'll get over her. Well, guess what: that's not going to happen." Staring at her, I drop my arm to my side as I shake my head. "If you kill Wysper, I'll mourn her until the day I die, even if it means ending up like you... which I probably will. The woman without eyes told me that I'm you, with whatever changes papa put in, but a pure Oldenblood regardless." I sigh. "At least let me have a few good memories before I begin drinking myself to death." Asena's staring at me like I've become a stranger.

Then she throws back her head and howls. Wysper scrambles away as Asena's howl becomes a keen filled with anger and despair, Wysper coming into my arms a moment before I pull us away from Asena, who's now ripping up the ground as the terrible sound continues. Shite, I've never seen her this bad. Spearmen are running towards us as the Great Khan and his guards reach the unarmed Chosen, with the Black Dragon warriors racing towards us, Castor and Titan several horse-lengths ahead of them and pulling away.

I draw Wysper farther back as Asena stops ripping up the ground and looks up at the sky. "Ghostdog," she roars, "why did you do this to me? Why couldn't you just let me die?"

"Actually," a familiar male voice drawls on a breeze out of the Shadowlands, "it's because I'm quite fond of you."

My jaw drops. "Papa?"