Amazonia

  "The High Priest of the heart-eaters will allow his sacrificial victim, the one his god brings back to life each time she dies, to kill herself because of this whelp? Muzen must be a greater fool than any of us ever thought."

  Sitting on cushions in the shadows at the back of the room, across from where Karl sat with Princess, were four men of the steppe wearing hardened leather armor with small metal rings sewn onto the hide. Their black hair was long and braided down the back, with faces harsh as a cliff face. Greywolf tensed as if ready to launch himself across the room at them, but remained still as Amazonia stood up and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Muzen sees his potential much clearer than whoever just said that. Are you blind, or did you just get hit in the head once too often?"

  One of the men, short and squat with a thin beard and bristling eyebrows, jumped to his feet. "Ugly wench, you've just insulted Prince Timur of the Red Boar clan, eldest son of Khingla, Khan of khans. Get down on your knees and beg forgiveness or I will slay you where you stand."

  Put your foot right in it this time, Az. Hades’ hairy eyeballs, might as well jump in with both feet. "Greywolf," Amazonia hissed, "join Asena." He vaulted the table with easy grace and landed on his feet, Asena growling something at him Az ignored as she turned towards the squat man and sneered. "I couldn't have insulted Prince Timur," contempt dripping from her voice, "because I’ve been told that such a powerful warrior has Bloodguards protecting him from his enemies, not yapping little dogs."

  The other three began chuckling while the squat man's face turned crimson. He spat on the floor and grasped the hilt of his sword. "Get down on your knees and apologize or I'll spit you like the yapping dog you are."

  Time to throw the knuckle-bones. "As you wish." Amazonia did a tuck and roll across the table as the Rune sword leapt out of its sheath, her hand grasping the leather bound hilt as her war sandals hit the floor. Then Az lunged forward and stopped with the tip of her blade a finger’s length from the squat man’s throat. "You're not getting an apology," she snapped, her free hand waving for her Wardogs to back off as the other three steppe warriors went still as stone, all the humor gone from their faces, "so you'd best go ahead and spit me." Amazonia gave his stunned expression a death's head smile. "I'm waiting."

  The largest man of the other three stood up, his scarred face partially covered by a thick beard. "Jebe," he snarled, "this woman stood half a room away from you, yet now holds a sword to your throat. Where is yours? Sleeping in its sheath?"

  "But my prince," the hint of a whine in Jebe's voice, "I've never seen anyone move so fast."

  From across the room, Titan rumbled, "Amazonia was once a champion of the Imperial Arena at Konstanopolis, remade by her old master into a Reaver Knight."

  "Impossible," the squat, bearded man on Amazonia’s other side said. "Reaver Knights are a story told by the elders around the ceremonial fire."

  "Look at the sword," the man beside Prince Timur hissed. He was taller than the other three with broad shoulders and a youngish face shaven clean. "Have you ever heard of an Artifact sword with runes carved into the blade glowing red as heart blood? Or a sword that leapt out of its sheath into its wielder’s hand?"

  "Argat is right." Prince Timur regarded the crimson runes on the black sword hovering near Jebe's neck. "Reaver Knight Amazonia, if you will remove your Rune sword from this foolish man's throat and tell me why a legend stands in the common room of an inn of Bukhara, I will take no offense at your blunt words."

  "Fair enough." Amazonia lowered the tip of her sword until it touched the stone floor, watching Jebe from the corner of her eye as she regarded the prince. "I stand here because the Sasnayam Empire betrayed my former master, an equally foolish man named Paulus." This part was rehearsed, yet there was a kernel of truth in many of the words Az spoke as she went on. "They secretly caused his ruin, then tempted him with enough gold to satisfy even King Midas, in exchange for changing his champion into a Reaver Knight and six of his other gladiators into Chaldean Wardogs."

  "To use against the Empire of the East?"

  Amazonia shook her head. "Too obvious. No, the Sasnayams want to march on the Eastern Empire, and to make sure there would be no reason for their army to be diverted, the original plan was to send us to Bukhara and use our group against anyone the Sasnayam Empire thought might cause trouble on their satrapies' eastern border."

  "In other words... us." Amazonia nodded and the three stiffened, Jebe's eyes darting back and forth as if he had no idea what was going on. Prince Timur took a deep breath. "Since the four of us are still on the living side of the world, the original plan failed."

  "The emperor discovered the plot. He had Paulus killed in the arena and banished us to the Khitian waste, but I want revenge on the Sasnayams for what they've done."

  Amazonia waited for one of them to know that a Rune sword’s mission cannot change just because she wanted revenge, meaning he knew the truth about Reaver Knights and possibly giving up the game before it began. The prince's eyes locked onto hers. "What would you do to the Sasnayams, if you could?"

  "Plunder their cities and enslave their people." Amazonia breathed a mental sigh of relief as she made her face smile like Hades himself. "I would bring the Sasnayams to their knees and keep them there like a trembling bed-slave."

  "Interesting. Sit with me at this table and tell me more about—”

  "My prince," Jebe snarled with his hand back on his hilt, "this woman's a fraud, an acrobatic trickster with a false sword, trying to worm her way into your good graces like a leech. I will show you I'm right by cutting off her head and laying it on the table." He began drawing his sword.

  Prince Timur's hand clamped down on the man's wrist. "Jebe, if you attack this woman and she kills you, I will not demand her blood in return. Look at you, boasting and bragging, spending more time lifting a wine cup than lifting your sword. No wonder it sleeps in your sheath."

  "Then let me kill her and show you I'm still worthy."

  Prince Timur glanced at Az. "What was it you said? As you wish." He removed his hand from Jebe's wrist and stepped back.

  "Mongrel cur," Jebe's steel sword ringing as it cleared the sheathe, "I'll gut you like—”

  The tip of her sword whipped up in a blur as Amazonia lunged forward, piercing his eye as she pressed the blade until it reached the back of his skull. Jebe’s sword dropped from nerveless fingers as he spasmed, metal clattering onto the stone floor as she pulled out the blade and stepped back. Jebe collapsed in a heap and went still. Resuming his former place, Prince Timur looked down at him.

  Then he looked up at Amazonia. "It would seem I'm now short a Bloodguard. According to the legends the old ones tell around the fire, whenever a Reaver Knight swears an oath upon their Rune sword, the knight must hold to the oath because the sword will demand it."

  "The legend is true," Titan rumbled, "and her Chaldean Wardogs will hold to it as well, out of loyalty to their knight."

  The prince raised his thick eyebrows. "Six? I only count four men and a Daemo, unless one's missing."

  "We lost one in the arena when we were banished," Amazonia replied, motioning with her hand towards the back of the room and the eastern lands beyond. "But ever since we reached Bukhara, I've been sensing him somewhere off in that direction."

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  Argat jumped as if prodded with a hot poker. "My prince, the Lycaon mercenary Pollux recently acquired a mark like a tattoo of a snarling wolf, which burned away his fur, leaving it visible on his back. Neither he nor his brother Castor can explain where it came from."

  "The Lycaon will recognize me when we meet." Resting the sword's tip back on the stone floor, Amazonia met his dark eyed gaze. "Prince Timur, swear to help me get revenge upon the Sasnayams, and I will swear an oath to be your Bloodguard, along with my Wardogs, until the sword shatters and we are free of its enchantment."

  "I watched it being enchanted," Titan added, "and it is crafted from Ironwood. The oath will hold for a long time."

  "If I can, in good faith, make it." A darkness stole over the prince's face. "A lesser man would take your oath and let you discover the truth later. Several months ago, the Shaman of the Eternal Sky told the Great Khan of a dream she had, where Tengri told her my youngest brother Avitohol should be made the Khan of khans after our father dies."

  This wasn't part of the plan. "But you are the eldest."

  Prince Timur scowled as Argat said, "The words of the shaman carry great weight, yet there are many who would agree with you, especially among the younger warriors. However, the Great Khan will never go against anything the shaman wants."

  "My father will not be with us forever, and upon that day, there will be a reckoning."

  "My prince," Argat said, "you need to build your support by doing something unexpected, a daring raid or the killing of some fearsome beast. A great deed that will put your name on everyone's lips."

  A thought struck Amazonia like a bolt of lightning and she lowered her voice. "My prince, the peace treaty between your people and Bukhara, does it include the Sasnayams as well?"

  His gaze became intense. "The Sasnayams were deliberately left out of it. What—” His eyes went wide. "Blood-corn. The High Priest of the heart-eaters has been collecting it as they've passed through all their empire's satrapies. Our outriders reported great wagons filled with sacks containing something inside them, glowing red."

  Argat was shaking his head. "My prince, there's no way we can get inside the temple district without going through the main gate, which means breaking the treaty by fighting our way through the guards."

  A local man with a nose like a hawk’s beak and wearing merchant’s robes said, "Prince Timur, forgive my intrusion into your affairs, but there is not a person in this entire inn, including the innkeeper and his servants, who would not pay gold to see the Sasnayams brought low. Bukhara was a strong city-state until the Sasnayams conquered and placed us under their thumb, and now look at us. They bleed us as if they were a flock of Vampyres, stealing gold from the fathers and mothers while carving the hearts out of our children, and in return we get what? Scraps from their feast table.

  "No, you may speak freely here and what is more, I know how you may enter the temple district without violating the treaty." He pointed back at Greywolf. "This Shadow-walker can lead a raiding party into the temple of Ghash-Kimil, where another dead, grey tree marks a weak spot between the worlds. Asena told me earlier that Greywolf has done this in the past."

  Asena gave the local man a dark look as Amazonia motioned back behind her. "My Daemo Wardog is a Shadow-walker as well."

  Glancing back, Fox pulled off the hood she’d been wearing as she shook her head. "Domina, I only know how to open small gates into the Shadowlands."

  "Fox, I can teach you," Greywolf called out. "It's not hard."

  "In exchange for gold," Asena growled. "And before anyone asks, we're not getting involved in this scheme of yours."

  "What about Blood-Wysper? I'm not letting her kill herself because of me."

  "Muzen's bluffing. When I knew him under a different name, he'd pull this kind of thing with anyone who didn't know him."

  "Are you sure?" Greywolf looked up at her with a wary expression on his face. "This is important."

  Asena gave him a derisive snort. "Of course I'm sure. Like I told you, I know him."

  "Nor will payment be a problem," a young female voice said from across the room. Bells chimed as a young, local woman with a red glowing mana stone at her belly and a silver spiral with another blue mana stone in one ear, walked in from the common room. "Prince Timur, Porthos the merchant isn't your only ally if you're serious about stealing the blood-corn."

  "I remember you from the bathhouse," the prince said. "Ashi, or something."

  "Ishi, great prince. However, tonight I'm speaking for both the temple of Ix-Chel and the temple of the Storm Lord.”

  Porthos gave her an indignant look. "You are a spy for the temples?"

  "I used to be a novice priestess of Ix-Chel before they decided my talents lay outside the temple walls." She brushed the spiral earring with her fingertips. "When I spoke to the head priestess in Bukhara about the inn's... unusual guests, she enchanted my mage-spiral with a spell of listening, which also lets me hear her words. The head priest of the Storm Lord's with her and listening in as well. Great prince, may I speak freely, even if my words come across as blunt?"

  Prince Timur glanced Amazonia’s way. "It would seem to be my fate tonight. Say on."

  Ishi inclined her head. "Great prince, the two temples don't care a copper about Bukhara; their main concern is regaining their favored position at the top of the Sasnayam Pantheon, which they had before Yun-Kax toppled them and lifted up not only their temple, but also the minor temple of Ghash-Kimil.

  “Ix-Chel is willing to make sure the priests keeping watch over the dead tree in the center of their pyramid will be distracted, while the Lord of Storms will not only make sure it's their guards on the vaults, who will open them for you, but will escort half the wagons loaded with blood-corn out the main gate, along with your triumphant warriors. Your raiding party can then travel to the temple ruin outside the city and escape via the Shadowlands."

  Prince Timur hooked his thumbs on two loose rings of his armor. "What do they want in return?"

  "Two things: first, that you execute all the priests and acolytes of Ghash-Kimil, and second, that you defeat Muzen and give him to the head priest of the Storm Lord in chains of gold and special amulets draped over him, both of which will be provided."

  Prince Timur shook his head. "I recognized what Muzen truly is when he challenged an Oldenblood without any hesitation, and we know Yrg by reputation. On an open field, we could use archers to weaken him, but inside an enclosed building? Even without armor, many of my warriors would die."

  Ishi looked away a few moments as if listening, then turned back towards the prince. "Both agree with you, but also point out that Muzen and Yrg backed down when the Ogri came to Asena's defense. In addition to Titan, you also have a Reaver Knight and her Chaldeans, who according to the legends are formidable fighters."

  Prince Timur turned towards Az. "Do I?"

  "Can you promise me the revenge I spoke of? If you swear upon the Rune sword to do so, then the answer is yes."

  He leaned in close to speak quietly into her ear. "If you can agree to be patient. I want exactly what you want, but I cannot attempt to take control of my people until I have enough support, even if the Great Khan dies soon."

  Moving carefully, Amazonia positioned the Rune sword sideways and flat, with one hand holding the leather bound hilt, the other supporting the blade. "When you are made a slave, patience is the first thing you learn. If you'll place your hand over mine, I'll swear you that oath." Prince Timur placed his hand over her’s where it supported the blade, and she said, "I swear to you that I shall become your Bloodguard and obey you in all things, until either the sword shatters and I am free of all oaths, or death takes me."

  A red glow enveloped both of their hands. It faded as the prince snatched his hand away, the room silent as Amazonia sheathed her sword. Timur rubbed his fingers. "Alright, we'll defeat Muzen and take him captive, but only if we get three quarters of the blood-corn."

  "Great prince, they will agree to a third for themselves, but no less. Bukhara will certainly rise up against their Sasnayam masters, which Muzen will be blamed for, and they'll need the blood-corn to strengthen their warriors against the inevitable backlash."

  Prince Timur inclined his head. "Two-thirds is reasonable. Now, what about the royal governor's soldiers and Yrg?"

  "The royal governor and his soldiers will be encouraged to enjoy the last night of the festival, whether they're on duty or not, which means most if not all of them will be drunk. As for Yrg—”

  "I've got an idea how to handle her," Karl said from the corner where he was holding the child named Princess, "which I'll explain when we reach the main encampment. Now, I've got a question for Titan. What was the great debt of honor you invoked when you came to Asena's aid?"

  Titan chuckled. "Asena does not remember, but back in the days when we fought for Alexander the Magnificent, I owed her three coppers over a dog race we bet on. We were separated right after the race and I never had a chance to pay it back."

  Asena laughed, baring her fangs. "You bastard, I'd completely forgotten about that. Great debt indeed." Titan laughed as well as she threw her massive arms around him, giving the Ogri a bone crushing hug that would’ve killed anyone else as he returned the same to her. After several moments, they let go. "Wotan's bloody bones, I've missed you. I'm buying everyone a drink. Parnax," she roared, her voice echoing off the walls, "where are you?"

  Running footsteps came from the next room, and a moment later bells wildly chimed as the innkeeper poked his head into the room. "Mistress Asena, I did not wish to disturb—”

  "Bugger your excuses. Wine for everyone here until we pass out, and pay for it out of the money you owe Porthos."

  His expression grew sharp. "The agreement was for you..." Both Asena and Titan glared down at him, and the innkeeper went pale as death. "Of course, wine for everyone. Coming right up."