Wysper - Queen Boudica the Last

I stand upon the battlements over the castle's keep, with many of the noble lords and a few ladies standing in a semi-circle behind me. The wind is blowing cold while the sky is clear, but my wool cloak is keeping out the worst of it as we look south, past the city toward the lands beyond... lands which the Gauls now control.

Their forces are spread out along the rivers, just out of range of our archers, their warriors keeping watch while their slaves build defensive barricades to hide behind. Yet, none of them seem to be in a hurry, their army not even attempting to cut us off on our northern flank. Instead, they have brought up twenty-five enormous catapults, which have been flinging paint pots against our walls as target practice.

Last night, Yasataar told me today was the day the bombardment would begin for real. Khulan, standing beside me in armor and carrying a short spear, says in a low voice. "What if Greywolf can't get one of the explosive pots to blow up? Will they still believe you?"

"Even if he cannot," I answer quietly, "no one can stop me from-"

Beyond the tree line where the Gauls' camp lies, a blast rips trees apart and flings them into the air as a grey cloud mushrooms up into the air. The wind brings with it faint screams. Behind me, men gasp, the women stifling screams of their own as I turn around. "That was the effect of just one pot."

My brother Alar, standing on my other side, curses for a moment in the harsh language of the Horde clans. "My queen, you were right: the Gauls don't mean to overwhelm the castle. They mean to destroy it."

I nod absently. Greywolf kept his promise, and if there is a true God somewhere out there, I hope that being will keep my lover safe and moving towards Attila's army. Let him be so far away that he does not see what I am about to do.

Enough of this; I am Brittani, and my people need to see me unafraid and resolved. Setting my face in a stern mask like my mother used to do, I meet the eyes of everyone as I look around at the small crowd. "Now you understand why I need to use the ghost-glass to call down fire from the heavens, and destroy not only the Gaul's machines of war, but as much of their army as I can."

Uncle Morgan is already shaking his head. "We also understand that it will kill you. Khan Attila's army-"

"Will never reach us in time. Lord Morgan, I am trusting you to carry out my commands after I am gone. Once the fires have burned themselves out, and the ground has cooled enough for our soldiers to march without being overcome by heat or fumes, attack the Gauls before they have a chance to reorganize."

"Once Attila learns what happened," Alar says, "he'll force march his army northward. With luck, we can be the anvil and Attila the hammer, smashing the Gaul's between us."

"Have you become a Horde clansman yourself," Little Boots says, his Pictish wife Fina beside him, "with as little mercy as they have?" He stabs a finger in my direction. "Calling down this fire, if it works, will kill your sister."

"It will work," I reply before my brother can, seeing the haunted look in Alar's eyes before turning my gaze on Little Boots. "The shaman for the Grey Warg Khanate, Old Bone Woman, shared with Alar the dream she had of Ebora Castle being blown apart and the Gauls overrunning what remains of Britannia." I make an exasperated sound. "Do you believe I want to do this? If there was any other way, I would take it, but this is the only way we can break the back of the Gaulish army and drive them off our island."

"Queen Boudica," Princess Fina says, "there is another way if you'll let us take you in. My father told me we can hide you-"

I hold up my hand to stop her from pleading with me... again. "You made an eloquent case before, and were the portents not so dire, I would take your father up on his offer. But the omens are clear. Ebora Castle is the rock upon which our defense must make their stand, and if they destroy it, they destroy us."

Before I can continue, a page wearing a black tabard, embroidered with the stylized horse and chariot of the queen, come running over from the spiral staircase. "My queen," he pants, the nobles giving way as he rushes over and slides into a kneel at my feet. "The ambassador... of the Gauls... is here."

"Catch your breath," I tell him before he can go on. He nods, breathing deeply as I add, "He can most certainly wait."

The boy gulps air for a few moments before going on. "The ambassador said you are to immediately surrender yourself and accompany him back to camp, where Balor One-eye is waiting."

"Why would she do that?" Lord Roderic of the Cortani growls.

The page looks up at me with frightened eyes, and I nod. "No harm will come to you from anyone. Tell me exactly what he told you."

The page breathes deep. "He said you are to become Balor's slave," the boy says, cringing as the noblemen begin loudly cursing Balor's name. "The ambassador also said that if your lover, Greywolf, swore himself to Balor's service, he would give your slave collar over to Greywolf. Oh, and he wants Lady Morgana to surrender herself as well." His fingers pluck at the hem of my dress. "My queen, I told him Lady Morgana had gone back to Eire, but he called it a lie and insisted she give herself up."

I raise my eyebrows. "I see. Out of curiosity, if I were to be foolish enough to comply, what would we get in return?"

"The ambassador said the army will withdraw once Lord Little Boots swears fealty to Gaul, and is made petty king."

"I will leap off this rampart first," Little Boots snarls.

"There's no need," Alar says. "Once he's got his hands upon our queen, he'll blow up Ebora Castle anyway." He motions outward towards our lands. "Why bother with a petty kingdom when he can just turn us all into slaves, working the fields for our Gaulish masters."

A number of voices chime in with their agreement as I reach down and run my fingers through the boy's naturally red, curly hair. "Do you know," I say as the noble voices grow quiet, "that I was about your age when my mother sent me off to live with the druids?" One of the druids is with us, a tall man in a dark cloak with the deep cowl covering his face, but I ignore him as I go on. "They taught me a lot of important things, but above all they trained me in the rituals I was to be a part of, and got me to accept my role as the sacrificial victim for my people."

I absently begin braiding his hair the way I was taught. "Yet, all the effort they put into me came to nothing, because a Shadow-walker named Ghostdog stole me away and sold me to an evil priest named Muzen."

Alar gasps. "Ghostdog... as in, Greywolf's father?" I nod, and he says, "Are you sure?"

I let the braid go unfinished as I release the boy's hair and look up at my brother. "I heard it from the mouth of someone who would not have lied about it, someone who did not know I was listening. I was hurt, terribly hurt, and angry when I realized Ghostdog was the one who kidnapped me and my priestess-sisters. But Yasataar helped me realize the truth. I was meant, I have always been meant, to be the last sacrificial victim for the Brittani people."

Several voices speak at once and I raise my hands. "Apologies for upsetting you," I say as they quiet and I lower my hands again, "yet what I speak is the truth. "All the suffering I experienced at the hands of the Sasnayams, all the joy I have felt since my rescue, everything I have learned along the way, all of this has led me to this point. I have known despair so dark I almost took my own life, and love so strong that I was ready to give my life to protect the one who almost sacrificed his life for me. I am ready to do so again for you."

Within my heart, anger flares, and I stab my finger out at the nobles staring back. "However, as I am the last Queen Boudica who will give up her life for you, I am going to make several decrees I expect for you, and your descendants, to honor for as long as our people endure. From this day forward, even if the druids reacquire the dragon scales that will make it possible for a girl to become a living mana node, the practice will stop."

Many of the nobles gasp, and Uncle Morgan says, "But my queen, this will mean no more blood-oats."

"You are correct. I brought several books with me, gifts of Lord Osiris, that will help our people, including one on better ways of growing food. I decree that these methods be taught to the Yeomen, so they might strengthen our people by strengthening their hold on the land."

"This is a good decree," Uncle Morgan says, "and I will see that it is carried out. However, the druids told me once they secure a new set of sacred discs, the practice will resume no matter what."

"Not if I command them to stop," a man's deep, almost musical voice says from behind the others.

The tall, broad shouldered druid moves through the nobles towards us, as Uncle Morgan turns around. "I heard this from the arch-druid himself," he says as the druid stops in front of him and pulls his cowl back. "Who are you to believe you can change..."

The druid's face is not human. It has a deer's features, with a touch of wolf, shaped into a man-like form with curled horns at each temple on a head covered in light brown fur. All of us gasp. Then the others drop to one knee, until he and I are staring back at each other. Terror wrestles with the deep sense of awe I once felt in his presence as I bow. "Lord Pan."

As I straighten, he gives me a strange look. "You have changed. When the druids told me of your arrival, I thought I would see the girl who felt like a warm breeze through the forest's chill."

"That girl still lives. Yet, too much has happened for that same girl to be standing here now."

Lord Pan inclines his head. "So I understand. I also understand you have a spirit guide from the Horde tribes, who taught you to walk the dream." I give him a wary nod, and he says, "Were you there when the remaining gods received the summons Tholthac gave to us?"

I hesitate, then decide to plow ahead. "Yes, I was... though Yasataar was the one who led me there. Otherwise, I would not have known about your gathering."

"I thought as much. Then you know the decision that we, the gods remaining here on this world, have to make."

I cross my arms underneath my breasts. "I do, but I also understand your true natures as well, you who are called gods."

Alar clears his throat and I glance down at him. He softly hisses, "This is Pan you're ranting at, sister mine."

Meaning, the others still believe the old gods are real, so tread lightly. I nod to show him I understand, then turn back towards Pan. "Tholthac, the one who is over all the gods here on Earth, as I understand it, gave every one of you a choice: return to the Heavens, or remain on Earth and fade away or be destroyed." The people around me gasp. I ignore them, my eyes locking onto Pan's. "Lord Pan, have you decided to stay, or to leave?"

Pan's dark eyes stare into mine as his beast-like face grows sad. "The last time Ghostdog was here, he sat with me in the sacred grove and gave me a full accounting of your life. I cried when he told me of the horrors you had faced under Muzen's hand. Then he predicted what was to happen, including the changes to his son and what it meant, and told me if I loved my people, I needed to set them free. He told me I needed to let go and let them find their own path."

I incline my head. "Attila and the Grey Wargs will avenge my death, but for my sake leave you in peace. If you wish to return home, you can do so with a clear conscious."

He sighs. "No. I have been a part of your people's lives for far too long, and if I abandon them now, the guilt will eat at me until I am finally gone. And yet, I agree with you; the time has come for me to let go." To my surprise, he drops to one knee before me. "The only way I can let go is to let another take my place. Queen Boudica the Last," Pan says as he raises his hands, palm to palm. "Whatever you command, I will see done after you are gone. This I do swear."

I uncross my arms as I stare down at him in shock, my eyes wide as wine cups. "You... are swearing yourself to me?"

Pan nods. "As I once swore you to my service, so I am now swearing myself to you. I will see your commands carried out, and once the people of this island, not just the Brittani but the Picts as well, are free, I shall withdraw to the wild places of the north and let them find their own destiny." The nobles are shaking their heads in disbelief, with several calling out to him in fear. Pan glances over his shoulder. "It is time... past time, I fear, that I let you go. I was your father, yet as many of you know, at the end, the child must become the parent as the father becomes the child." He smiles sadly. "Why should the gods be any different?"

"Be that as it may," Pan goes on, his face growing stern as his voice hardens. "I will remain as I have been in carrying out the queen's commands." He turns back towards me and his eyes meet mine. "Swear me to your service and I will see it done."

I feel like I am soaring among the clouds as I clasp his hands between mine. "I bind you to me, as you once bound me to you. Will you hold this oath sacred?"

He smiles, for I am using the language he once used on me. "I will honor this oath above everything else."

Fear and exhilaration have my heart beating like a bird's wings against the bars of its cage. "Then I command you to honor my decrees and see my will done. Let all recognize that Lord Pan speaks in my voice after I am gone."

All the nobles murmur assent, their shock visible on their faces as I let Pan go and look out at the small crowd. "This is my first decree. The child that Princess Fina carries in her womb will be my heir, regardless of whether it is a boy or a girl." My gaze meets Princess Fina's, and the stern mask I have cast my face into, softens. "I also have, not a decree, but a request. If the second child delivered from your womb is a girl, raise her as a free spirit, not heir to anything or forced into a marriage she does not want. When she is of age, let her wander the world with whoever she pleases... and always, always, let her know her parent's love."

Princess Fina rises long enough to give me a deep bow. "It will be done as you request, my queen. In your honor, she shall bear your old name, and I will teach her to walk the wild woods and learn its ways."

"Wait," Little Boots sputters, "you want to raise her as a Pict?"

The princess gives him a look that is dark as her braided hair. "Is this a problem, my lord?"

Before he can reply, I say, "My lord Little Boots, the proper response here would be: 'Why, that's not a problem at all'."

He looks at me, then at his wife. "Ah, of course it's not a problem, Dear-heart." Fina smiles as the nobles chuckle, Little Boots giving me a sour smile of his own. "My queen, if our child is to be your heir, will Lord Pan be regent until the child comes of age?"

I return the stern mask to my face. "Lord Pan will not. My brother Alar will be regent, with Lord Pan and my uncle Morgan his chief advisers. The second child in line for the throne will the next baby born to a Pictish woman married to a noble Brittani, and so forth, until Alar is certain the line of queens or kings is assured."

"Just so you know, I plan on having a big family," Alar says.

Speculative murmuring begins among the nobles, then goes silent as I speak. "My next decree is that, even if we lose here, and Ebora Castle is destroyed, the fight will continue until no Gaul holds even a grain of sand upon our shores. However, once they are gone, I decree that we shall not do the same to them. We will hold our island and nothing else."

"My queen," Uncle Morgan says, "if we leave them alone, the Gauls will regroup and invade again."

"Do whatever it takes to prevent them from returning. Raid them, burn their towns, employ spies and above all, make them fear our wrath. Yet, our warriors must always return home. We will not follow their ways and become Gauls ourselves."

"I shall see they do not," Pan says. "Do you wish the Yeomen to have a say-so in the kingdom's affairs as they do now?"

I nod. "This, I also decree. Let them speak, and if someday the Pictish clans join the Brittani in establishing a true kingdom, let them always have a voice as well. Let all be equal under the law, high and low, and let us remember that, regardless of birth, we are all the same."

"And that even a slave can become queen," Khulan says as she rises to her feet. "Do you wish for me to remain here after you are gone, or should I rejoin my people?"

In my vision, a small window pops up, showing me part of the line of catapults. Soldiers are cautiously loading the wooden cups and standing back as if waiting for orders. There is not much time. "No. Khulan, I need you to leave out of the north gate and swing wide around the Gauls until you reach the Grey Wargs. Find Greywolf, and tell him Yasataar taught me the same trick she used to avoid Timur."

She gasps. "You would become a spirit like she is?"

I shake my head. "Only temporarily. Yasataar told me she has a way to return me to the real world, but it will take time, and Greywolf needs to be patient."

Khulan raises her eyebrows. "Patient? Him?"

A small laugh escapes me. "I know. Find him and tell him anyway. Leave now." She nods and strides towards the stairs as I look at the page. "You too. Go find the Gaul's ambassador, and have him look out the window. He will get his answer." The boy leaps to his feet and runs towards the stairs as well. I take a deep breath. "Adviser, it is time."

I have begun trembling as Sorocan's image appears. "Three kinetic strikes, each one to hit the designated coordinate as planned. Once you give me the command, a counter will appear, and when it reaches one hundred, the strikes will commence. As will the backlash."

The trembling is getting worse. "I understand. Execute order." Adviser's image disappears, and a small box appears in its place. Inside is the old Egyptian mark for one, and as I watch, a second mark appears, then a third.

Others are beginning to rise, but Pan calls out, "All of you need to remain where you are. When the kinetic strikes hit, it will shake the castle, throwing everyone off their feet." He gives me a sharp look. "Are we far enough away?"

Twenty marks in the box change to an inverted U, and more single marks appear to the right. "Adviser said there might be minor damage, but the castle will hold. The first queen Boudica built it well."

Another inverted U forms and I walk away from the others, looking past the Gaul's army towards the woods beyond. "Greywolf," I say to the cold wind whirling around me, "please forgive me. There is just no other way. Yasataar promised me that someday we will have a life together, and I trust her. I have to trust her." Four inverted U's form as I shout to the wind, "I love you!" Five inverted U's change to the symbol of one hundred, an inverted hangman's noose, and as Yasataar taught me, I release the bonds holding my body together.

Lightning crackles around the ghost-glass as my body disintegrates and is gone.