Wysper - Abduction

"Greywolf," Prince Avitohol's voice calls out from the doorway to the bathhouse, "are you in there?"

"Pray bide a moment," I call back, adjusting my dress before running my fingers through my damp hair. Tossing the drying cloth into the basket, I step outside. "Prince Avitohol, I have not seen Greywolf or anyone else since I woke up. Is something amiss?"

Prince Avitohol is dressed in a black tunic with white boars embroidered on the cloth, dark leather trousers, and boots shined to a gloss. "He's supposed to be watching Asena fight. I've looked all over the inn, and the only ones here are Az's twin Nomads, who are passed out drunk. I thought he might be back here."

Unease coils itself around my heart like a venomous serpent. "Greywolf told me he got to know the Chaldeans a little before the raid, and the Nomads only drink sparingly. I need to examine them." I move past him, the ground cold on my bare feet as I head towards the back door.

He follows behind me. "You look terrible. Are you sick, or was it a bad night?"

"The night was wonderful," at least what I remember of it, "and were I not a Blood mage with a good friend who made sure I drank enough purified water, I would be in far worse shape. Blood magic strengthens us against all ill effects."

As I open the door, Prince Avitohol says, "Including hangovers. No wonder the outriders are such notorious drinkers." Without responding I start down the hall, practically running as we race past the kitchen and into the private area, the bead curtain's bells wildly jangling as I reach the common room. He says, "They're back in the far corner."

I rush past the tables and cushions to the corner where deep shadows almost hide two figures in armor, propped up against the walls with their heads together and their weapons still in their sheathes. Two ceramic cups and a pitcher laying on its side sit on the table in front of them.

The smell of wine is strong as Prince Avitohol helps me move the table away, then joins me as I kneel in front of them, shaking each one of them in turn. Prince Avitohol gives the face in front of him a hard slap. Neither of the Nomads responds. "This is not drunkenness," I tell him as I place a palm on each forehead. "Blood magic can counteract the effects of poison, but only for as long as the mage uses her power."

The prince gives me a wide-eyed look. "They've been poisoned?"

"Maybe. We will know for sure when they begin to rouse." Greywolf had taught me the trick of pushing my mana out instead of just letting it flow, and as their foreheads grow warm, their eyelids begin to flutter. Now their lips are moving; they are muttering together in some strange language, their voices weak. I put my face close to their ears. "Apologies, but I cannot understand either one of you. If you can hear me, speak in Greco-Roma."

"Betrayed," they whisper in unison, "by the Daemo and his guards. Little Paulus was taken."

My heart seems to leap into my throat as Prince Avitohol shakes the man in front of him. "What about Greywolf?"

"Taken as well." Both Nomads open their eyes, and each grasps the wrist of the hand at their forehead. "Leave us here. Find Paulus and save him."

"But you both have been poisoned," I tell them as they pull my hands away. "We need to find you a healer."

"Too late for us. Little Paulus will be crucified; save him, avenge us, save Greywolf, keep Domina..." Their voices become too faint to hear as their eyes close once more.

Prince Avitohol pulls me to my feet with surprising strength for someone so young. "Come on, we've got to rescue them."

"But how?" I ask as he pulls me towards the door. "We should tell someone-"

"No time," he replies as he opens it. "Father's going to insist the games finish before he lets Timur mount a search party, and Prince Iron Butt will go along so he doesn't insult tradition." A cold breeze sweeps over us as we go outside and he slams the door shut. "Hypam and her warriors are camped outside of Bukhara, just beyond the outer village. She'll help us."

Realizing he is probably right, I take off with him at a run, fear giving wings to my feet as we reach the main road and race down it to the plaza, the street vendors watching us with surprised faces as we pass through them towards the open gate. The half dozen guards are huddled together, facing away from us and laughing at some jest as we run by them. They shout, but neither one of us looks back as we hurtle past them across the paving stones of the white bridge.

As we reach the opposite side and pound down the dusty street, gathering more looks from the people doing business there, several men walk out of the entrance to a three story building, two of them with wolfish faces. Castor notices us first. "Wysper, what are you doing-"

"Greywolf and Paulus were taken," I pant, slowing down with Prince Avitohol breathing hard beside me. "And both Nomads poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Fenris snarls, and I step away from him as he says, "Where are they?"

"Common room at the 'Direwolf," Prince Avitohol says, adding, "They told us the Daemo did it."

"Why are you running away from Bukhara then?" Troll hunches over as his voice turns menacing. "Unless you had something to do with this."

Prince Avitohol steps in front of Troll with his fists clenched. "I'm going after my cousin, Hypam, and her hundred warriors, to rescue them. Any more questions?"

Troll blinks. "I'm coming with you, then."

"What about our brothers?" Fenris growls. "They die while we argue."

"Go," Castor says, pushing his brother in the direction of Bukhara. "Get a healer for your new brothers and I'll go with the prince and find Greywolf." Fenris hesitates.

Then whips around and grabs Troll by the front of his stained tunic. "Rip out that bastard Balthazar's liver and eat it in front of him." In response, Troll slams his chest against Fenris', which must mean something to them because the Lycaon lets him go and races off towards Bukhara, as the rest of us turn and start running the opposite way.

Just beyond the village are the pens and fields where horses and other animals are kept, including Greywolf's Daemo mount, Rocky, who is watching us intently as we race past him towards a cluster of tents at the top of a small rise. As we start up the gentle slope, a flame haired warrior in Artifact armor stands up out of the tall grass, puts her little fingers to her lips, and gives out a piercing whistle.

The tents above become a swarm of activity, with dark haired men in leather getting to their feet or climbing out of their tents as Hypam strides down the slope to join us. "Yasataar walked my dreams last night so I knew you'd be coming, but she didn't tell me why. What happened?"

We stop in a group behind Prince Avitohol as he blurts out the tale, all of us catching our breath as he adds, "Will you help us rescue them?"

Hypam musses his hair. "Of course, but on one condition," her forefinger poking him in the chest. "You will lead the raiding party and I will be your second."

Prince Avitohol rears back. "Me?"

"Him?" Troll gives her a suspicious look. "Avitohol's just a kid."

"Prince Avitohol to you, ugly one," Hypam giving him a dark look as he scowls. "He leads or the Black Dragons remain here."

"Hypam," I say, choosing my words with care, "this makes no sense. You are the one with experience."

"Which my cousin needs. Avitohol, the Keeper of the Spirits told me that today is to be your trial of manhood. Lead the raiding party, rescue Greywolf, and even the Khan of khans will not be able to deny that you've the name of Attila." Prince Avitohol stares at her in confusion for a moment.

Then he draws himself up as his jaw sets in a firm line. "Alright, I'll do it. Did anyone see them leave?"

Hypam inclines her head. "A while ago I watched as a piss colored Daemo directed four men to load a wooden chest onto a wagon, with a driver and a grey bearded man in robes on the seat. The four joined perhaps another twenty guards on horseback, climbing up on their own mounts as the Daemo climbed onto the wagon bed beside the chest. Then they all took off north towards Khor at a good clip."

I ask, "Was there anything special about the chest?"

Hypam snorts. "Other than the holes drilled into the sides to allow air to blow in?"

Troll gives her an ugly look. "You could've stopped them if you'd wanted."

"I had no reason to," Hypam putting her fists on her hips as she glares at him. "Khan Huldin told me no raiding while we were on this mission, and I had no idea what or who was in the chest."

"We're wasting time," Prince Avitohol says, cutting off Troll, who glares at the boy. The prince ignores him. "Hypam, can we catch up to them?"

"By nightfall, certainly. Horses are faster, but they don't have the endurance of Warghorses, and once the rain begins," her hand motioning up at the darkening clouds, "they'll have to slow down or risk one of their mounts breaking a leg." As Hypam stares at the prince, her gaze sharpens. "The question is: what do we do after we catch them?"

"Surprise them after they make camp," Prince Avitohol replies as he begins pacing back and forth. "If it's raining hard, we won't be able to just shoot them full of arrows, so it's going to be hand to hand fighting. If we could distract them somehow, we'll have surprise on our side at the start." An image flashes through my mind and I give a little gasp, which he notices. "Wysper, have you got an idea?"

I cannot believe I am seriously contemplating this. "I do, my prince, but to pull this off I am going to need Rocky's help." I look down at my nomad made dress and take a deep breath. "As well as different clothes."