Greywolf

  Greywolf snapped awake as he always did, sniffing the air before ever opening his eyes. The air was stuffy with the smell of leather and steel and a wolfish scent like Asena's. I think this is the room we stayed in at the Dancing Direwolf... has this all been a dream? He began to stretch.

  Then gasped as a stabbing pain pierced his shoulder. Opening his eyes, a dim light was coming through the shuttered windows, with gear piled up in the corner and Castor in a chair beside the door, his eyes closed as he snored. Shite, he's as loud as Asena; must be a wolf thing.

  Looking down, Greywolf noticed he was wearing trousers but nothing else, a linen bandage wrapped tight around his wounded shoulder. No dried blood stained the cloth, which was good, but it felt like every muscle in his body was aching. Then his bladder woke up as well. Sliding out from under the blanket he'd mostly tossed off in his sleep, Greywolf eased out of bed and headed for the closed door.

  Castor broke off in mid-snore and opened his eyes. "Greywolf, you're awake."

  "And feel like I fell out of a tree, hitting every branch on the way down." Castor chuckled and stretched as Greywolf asked, "Why are we back at the inn and not in Muzen's house?"

  He sighed, rubbing his wolfish head with his furry, man-like hands. "Be glad you missed last night's insanity." Castor then spent a few minutes telling Greywolf about the mob and Wysper's almost getting caught up in it. "Titan and I returned to the High Priest's house with Wysper and her two Celtic priestesses, a pair of novices for Ix-Chel who had no idea about any plots, a dark-haired priestess of Akan who's skinnier than Wysper and looks diseased, a stout priestess of Moan-Chan who smokes a cigar—”

  "A priestess smoking a cigar?"

  Castor grinned. "First thing she did when we reached the guardhouse, where Prince Timur had set up his stronghold, was to light one up. I like her; she told me Moan-Chan is the twin gods of merchants and travelers, but also of cigars and good wine. She's the only down-to-earth priestess I've ever met."

  "What about the other, the Akan one?"

  The smile snuffed out at once. "Creepy as one of Hel's handmaidens. Doesn't say a thing, just watches you with those dark, hollowed out eyes."

  A cold finger of unease touched Greywolf’s heart. "Will Wysper be alright? Should I go to her?"

  Castor shook his head at the last. "Wysper will be fine. The last priestess rescued was a Daemo named Sybil, who's part of the mystery cult of Isis, or Ishtar as she’s called here. Turns out Ishtar and Inanna were sisters, which means she's the closest thing to a priestess of Inanna in Bukhara, and she's making it a point to see that Wysper remains safe.

  “Titan, being an Ogri, doesn't trust her of course, and he's making sure Wysper and the other two Celts are kept separate from everyone else." Castor held up his hand with its black palm out. "Now, before you ask, Titan wants you to remain here, away from Prince Timur's sight. Events are moving quickly and I doubt the prince has gotten any sleep."

  Greywolf scratched his head. "What events?"

  "Bukhara has thrown off its Sasnayam masters and wishes to submit to the Great Khan." Greywolf’s eyes went wide and Castor nodded. "Like I said, last night was insanity. Every single Sasnayam, from the Royal Governor to the lowest servant, has either fled or has died, and Cermet's Shamblers, as everyone's begun calling her walking dead, have carried the bodies back to the charnel pits. Any Bukharan who died, though, has been taken to the main temple and laid in the catacombs beneath with honor. Once things get sorted out, the Bukharan's plan is to dedicate some of the temples to Inanna and dismantle the rest."

  Greywolf shook his head in disbelief. "What's the Great Khan going to think about all of this?"

  "We'll find out later this morning. Once the bridge was secured and the counter-attacks dealt with, War-leader Kula sent out a rider to let Khan Khingla know what had happened. Outriders showed up soon after, with a company of Warg-lancers riding in on their heels."

  "Warg-lancers?"

  "Spearmen who ride Warghorses. They're light cavalry who are exceptional at raiding and sneak attacks. Anyway, the Great Khan sent word that he'd be riding here with the rest of the cavalry before the sun had reached its zenith in the sky, to take command and decide Bukhara's fate." He gave Greywolf a knowing look. "I imagine they'll want you there when he arrives."

  Shite, none of this is going like I thought it would. "Is there anyone else at the inn or are we it?"

  "Amazonia claimed it for herself after she dismissed her armored Shamblers back to the charnel pits. She's here somewhere, herself again and not the... other." Castor shivered before going on. "Anyway, her Chaldeans are here, as well as Karl and Lys, though they're all likely still asleep."

  He was about to go on, but Greywolf interrupted. "Castor, I really need the privy, but is there any chance of getting breakfast afterward?"

  He yawned and got to his feet. "The inn was deserted when Titan carried you here and told me to watch over you, but I'll check the larder and see what's available."

  "You cook, too?"

  Castor snorted. "It was either learn how or starve. Pollux..." He sighed. "Fenris can't even fry an egg."

  "Asena claims I can burn an egg at least nine different ways." Castor chuckled again as Greywolf opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "I'll see you in a bit." Castor nodded, yawning as he padded down the hall while Greywolf opened the back door. A gust of cold air swirled around his body, making him shiver, and he stepped outside.

  The sun hadn't yet peeked over the mountains way off in the distance, and other than a flock of squawking birds passing overhead, the place was peaceful... No, more like silent in a way cities never are. Greywolf wrinkled his nose as the wind changed, bringing with it the odor of something dead, and he turned towards the midden.

  Shite, no wonder the place's gone silent. On top of the broken furniture and rotting food, someone had thrown several bodies, including a man still wearing clothes and an apron... Is that the innkeeper? Greywolf recognized Parnax’s face, with a couple of women’s bodies as well, both of them naked. None were moving and it looked like their throats had been cut. Neither of the women’s faces looked like Ishi’s, which was a good thing, and the memories of other times when Greywolf and Asena had traveled through raided villages made him turn away without examining them closer.

  Steam was coming out of the bathhouse, another good thing, but as he strode through the doorway into the warm, moist air, a woman's voice snarled, "I told you to leave me alone."

  Amazonia was sitting naked beside the pool with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her kinky black hair, shorn close to her scalp, glistened with water drops just like her skin, which was raw in places as if she'd scrubbed herself way too hard. Her forehead was resting on her knees.

  Greywolf cleared his throat. "Apologies for intruding but I need the privy."

  Her head jerked up. "Greywolf? What are you doing out of bed?"

  "Trying not to make matters any worse."

  He hurried past Amazonia and she kept her back to him as she gave an amused snort. "I'm surprised to see you up at all. After I... became myself again and Titan brought you here, he told me you'd been attacked by something in the Shadowlands and had lost a lot of blood."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "A Shadowcat jumped me while I was trying to figure how to save Wysper, without ending up like I did end up."

  "Did you kill it?"

  "It dissolved into a grey mist, so it should be dead. I mean, I haven't seen its ghost yet, which will look like a black barn cat, but eventually it'll show up."

  "Titan told me your father has several black ravens that followed him around when he visited the Ludus, but even though Ghostdog mentioned a gremlin, which he told Titan was the ghost of a Shadow Daemon he'd killed, Titan said he never saw it."

  "The gremlin only shows up when he wants to show papa something he should pay attention to, or warn him of danger, though the ravens are pretty good about that. From what papa told me about Shadowcats, I may not see it too much as it’s almost as shy as the gremlin. Why do you ask?"

  "Because I think it's here." Huh? Fastening his trousers, Greywolf stepped out of the privy and looked to where Amazonia was pointing. On the opposite side of the room, a small black cat sat motionless on a stone shelf like an Aegyptus statue of Bast.

  Its head turned toward the open doorway, and a moment later the sound of footsteps running towards them got louder. "Greywolf," Dancer's voice called out, "are you in there?"

  "He's fine," Amazonia said as Dancer reached the doorway. He was still wearing armor and his face was haggard as if he hadn't gotten any sleep. "I'm not going to hurt him, and he's in no condition to hurt me, so go back and tell Troll to stop worrying."

  "Domina—”

  "I'm fine as well, I just... I needed some time alone without anyone hovering." Amazonia exhaled sharply. "As soon as the manikin brings my clothes back, I'll get dressed and join you."

  From the corner of his eye, Greywolf saw the cat raise its paw and bat it towards Amazonia. "Dancer, I'll stay and keep her company."

  Amazonia's eyes narrowed. "Greywolf—”

  "I think that's a great idea," Dancer said. "Castor's making breakfast, so I'll find a cloak you can wear instead of a tunic and bring it back."

  Before she could protest, Dancer turned and walked back towards the inn, his leather sandals crunching the dirt underneath as he left. Greywolf sat down next to Amazonia, who glared at him as he crossed his legs, nomad style.

  Greywolf matched her glare for glare. "Before you start in on me, I'm a Shadow-walker who doesn't know shite about the Shadowlands except for what my papa taught me. So, I need to know what it was like for you, being this Shadow Knight. Because the next time you become one, I need to know whether we can fight alongside each other or if I'll need to keep myself away."

  Amazonia was already shaking her head. "I'm never becoming a Shadow Knight again, ever. Prince Timur promised me that if I became a Shadow Knight for him just this once, he'd never ask me to do it again."

  She sounded so haunted that he couldn't help but sigh. "Asena promised me the same thing when we signed on with Alexina. She told me that with her mana needs being met, we had no reason to go back to guarding caravans and fighting trolls. That she’d finally found us a home we didn’t need to leave."

  Amazonia frowned. "Until she’d decided it wasn’t."

  "Pretty much. Anyway, my papa never mentioned Shadow Knights directly, but he did once talk about a warrior who'd been changed into a Shadow creature that papa captured and brought back to the real world, where he changed into a human again. Papa told me the creature had done horrible things the man remembered doing, things he was ashamed of. But the man wasn't the one responsible because he hadn't been himself."

  Amazonia's laugh was bitter as the berries off a Mountain Ash tree. "Your papa's got it all wrong. I am responsible for what I did, because for the first time in my life I was powerful in a way I'd never been before." With her scarred fingers, she touched several old callouses on her neck. "When the Etruscans make you a slave, the first thing they do is have a mage slap an enchanted collar around your throat, then spend some time letting you feel all the different ways they can make you feel pain."

  She grimaced as she looked away, perhaps remembering those first days. "Once they've finished and you've been reduced to a sobbing wreck curled up in a ball, you never want to feel that kind of pain ever again. So you do whatever they want without question."

  She touched her throat once more. "Even after the collar was shattered, I still acted with the same restraint I'd been taught, like killing only when we were attacked and treating other women fairly, things like that."

  "But being a Shadow Knight was different?"

  "Oh, yes." Amazonia breathed in deeply before meeting Greywolf’s gaze with her own. "A Shadow Knight feels no restraints. Every single person who wasn't on our side needed to die, and every single death I caused made me feel... glorious. I had no morals, no remorse, and the only voices I listened to were Lys, Cermet, and Prince Timur."

  "But that was the creature—”

  "No, it was me." She looked across the pool at the cat staring back at her. "It was me, because there's a small, dark, part of my soul that wants to go back and feel glorious once again, with an army of the dead at my back. Last night we slaughtered every Bukharan who didn't convert to Inanna on the spot, along with anyone who was Sasnayam."

  "Including the Royal governor?"

  "That coward?" Amazonia spat into the pool. "He took his entire royal guard and fled out a side gate. The only Sasnayam who showed any courage was the captain of the western outpost, who counter-attacked with his company. Prince Timur and Kula crushed them."

  "Was Prince Avitohol there?"

  She smiled. "From what I heard, he fought like a northern berserker with a battle-axe as big as he was. Even Prince Timur was impressed." The smile left her face as she looked at the cat again. "The Bukharans went mad, fighting alongside the corpses—”

  "Shamblers." Amazonia gave Greywolf a puzzled look and he added, "That's what Castor says they're being called now."

  Amazonia slowly nodded. "Shamblers. We always seek to name something we don't understand, so it won't be as frightening. Like me." It was Greywolf’s turn to be puzzled and she returned him a bitter smile. "The Bukharans believe the spirit of Inanna possessed me, that she has returned from the Underworld to lead her people into freedom. They were singing a hymn to me that went like this”, and Amazonia sang,

  “If you do not open the gate for me to come in,

  I shall smash the door and shatter the bolt,

  I shall smash the doorpost and overturn the doors,

  I shall raise up the dead and they shall eat the living:

  And the dead shall outnumber the living!"

  Amazonia sighed. "They don't look at me as the goddess but as her avatar, her human incarnation, which is just as bad." She raised her eyebrows. "Lys told me what Muzen did to Wysper, destroying her faith, and before his image winked out, Osiris told me how Wysper now sees you as a demigod."

  "Osiris was here?"

  Amazonia nodded. "Zanzabel's now his emissary, and she plans to use another of those gems so Osiris can speak with the Great Khan when he arrives. Greywolf, Asena was pretty upset over your doing this, and now Wysper's attached to you. Was that wise?"

  Greywolf shrugged, and it didn't hurt as bad as before. "Maybe not, but I didn't have any choice... and to be honest? I'm glad I didn't. There's no one else I'd rather be bonded to." Her expression remained skeptical, and he added, "I mean, I could've done a whole lot worse."

  "True... you could be life-bonded to me."

  "What are you talking about? You're beautiful."

  Amazonia snorted, looking at Greywolf like he was an idiot. "Did that Shadowcat rattle your brains as well?" She motioned at her nude body, her knees still pressed against her chest. "Who would think me beautiful with all the scars I've got?"

  "I would." I'm not really sure why this is an issue, but it is, so I'd better deal with it. "Scars have their own beauty, like the poetry of an old north war-ballad. I mean, take the day when I kissed Wysper and started all this mess. I held up a clove lemon to her, and she thought I wanted to kiss the priestess beside her, instead."

  "If you mean the young Celt, she's beautiful."

  "Not compared to Wysper. She's the beautiful one, and the scars she carries on the inside, where no one can see them? They make her even more so."

  "You saw those scars?"

  "Sensed them in the way you can look at a man and tell if he's dangerous or not." Amazonia slowly nodded as Greywolf said, "Wysper's got them, and they make her more beautiful because they make her more real. Just like your scars do for you." There was a faint, wooden clacking sound coming closer, and he grinned. "Syr Reaver Knight Amazonia, I believe the manikin's bringing your clothes. Do you want to join me for…”

  "Az."

  "...breakfast... Apologies, what?"

  "Az. My friends call me Az."

  "Fair enough. My friends call me hungry enough to eat a Warghorse, fur and all."

  Az rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. "Better hope it's not on the menu. It tastes like liver gone bad." Greywolf made a disgusted face and grinned again, rising to his feet as she did. Then the room darkened as his head grew light and she grabbed his arm as he staggered. "Easy there. You alright?"

  Greywolf’s vision returned to normal as he nodded. "Guess I lost more blood than I realized." The manikin appeared in the doorway and his eyes went wide. "Shite, what happened?"

  The manikin had deep gouges in the wood of its body and arms, like someone had attacked it with a sword, while its legs were splattered with dried blood. It carried a bundle of black clothes inside, moving in a jerky way, while the writing burned into its body was barely glowing. It set the clothing down on a stone shelf and turned to leave. "At a guess," Az said, "Ishi was attacked for betraying us and the manikin tried to defend her."

  "What? That can't be right; Ishi helped us."

  "She helped with the initial attack on Muzen's house, but after the Chosen were engaged, she fled out the Temple District gates and spoke with the Sasnayam commander I later killed."

  Greywolf couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you sure?"

  Az nodded as the manikin stumbled going out the doorway. "Fenris and his brother Castor both watched as the commander counted out several pieces of silver, which she took." The manikin tripped and fell face first onto the dirt as she sighed. "I don't know what happened to her, but I wouldn't count on seeing her alive ever again." The manikin pushed up with its arms as if trying to regain its feet.

  Then the faint blue glow of the writing faded altogether, and the manikin fell back to the ground and went still.