Wysper - Betrayal

"What?"

The Ogri and the rest of them stared at the Shadow Fae in confusion, yet no one was as confused as I. My thoughts had finally reorganized themselves, but I still could not string words together without effort, and I felt graceful as a puppet with her strings cut. Why are these warriors here? Did Greywolf… I called him ‘Woof’, I am so embarrassed… did he bring them to save me from the High Priest?

Still down on his hands and knees, the High Priest laughed. "What marvelous irony. The traitors, so smug in their deceptions, are themselves deceived."

"Laugh all you want, O bald one," the Shadow Fae… he called her Lys, retorted, "because it may be the last time for a while. All the other temples, not just here but all over the Sasnayam empire, are rising up this night against your ally, Ghash-Kimil. Once the carnage is complete, and they have gathered the evidence linking Ghash-Kimil’s ever deepening knowledge of necromancy back to you, the long knives will come for the temples of Yun-Kax."

Among the Brittani, necromancy beyond speaking to the ancestors was one of the few crimes no clan leader was ever permitted to absolve. The High Priest's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, deepening necromancy? Ghash-Kimil's priests dispose of bodies and occasionally raise the dead, which the other temples have known about since the founding of the empire."

Raise the dead? He knew, yet never commanded them to cease? Dread filled my heart as Lys smirked at him. "Oh, really? Before tonight, I only knew how to raise the dead and speak to them, which I understand Ghash-Kimil's priests cannot do. However, a priestess, who used Ghash-Kimil's teachings to turn herself into a minor Lich, showed me just how easy it is to turn Yrg into a Revenant under my control."

The High Priest was keeping his face in a stern mask, yet I sensed the unease underneath. "You are lying."

"Am I? I have been hiding under your nose ever since I got here, and had I known how to create a Revenant before, I could have turned her into one several times over. Tell me something: why did Ghash-Kimil so strongly support your plan to conquer the Empire of the East's province of Antioch on the coast of the Middle sea?"

"So the empire would have a port there, to establish trade and for its shipbuilding-"

"Carthago. The minor Lich Cermet, who willingly placed herself under my control for her safety, told me she heard from Ghash-Kimil's own lips that they wanted to launch an expedition to the ruins of Carthago and find the secret of turning themselves, and their trusted retainers, into Shadowmen exactly like the ones Ba'al created."

The Germanic warrior who entered with Lys, added, "She also said Ghash-Kimil planned to trick you into becoming a Shadowman as well, loyal to them, of course. She claims the proof's in their main temple in Tesiphon, with your name on the documents-"

Shouts began from the bottom floor, with the sound of doors being slammed shut. All of us turned towards the doorway as someone called out what sounded like a warning in their harsh language. A scarred, craggy faced warrior grunted and turned around. "Lys, you're right; my scouts just reported a company of archers has marched through the gateway into the Temple district, with a company of spearmen behind them." He gave her a grim smile. "I thought this raid was going too well."

Lys gave him back a jagged smile with teeth like icicles of obsidian. "Forewarning gives you the chance to be formidable against your foes. Shall we see if they wish to parley?"

"Titan," the craggy warrior said to the Ogri, "will you keep watch over Muzen while I speak to them?"

"I'd rather destroy that abomination," Titan growled, pointing his Greatsword at Yrg, "but under the circumstances I will do as you ask... for now."

"Good." The warrior began giving orders to the warriors behind him as Lys leaped onto German's shoulder, who strode towards the closest shuttered window and unlatched the bolt. Yrg stiffly followed behind them as he opened the shutters to the cold night air.

A Daemo with silvery-grey hair like Greywolf’s, grabbed my dress and pashmina beside the scattered cushions and hurried over. "Here, before Wysper catches a chill." As she handed them to Zanzabel, she gasped at Greywolf, "You're hurt."

As Zanzabel slipped the dress over my head, he replied, "I'll be okay as long as nothing else attacks us. Help me up to the window ledge, I want to see." Zanzabel left me to struggle into my dress alone as she grasped Greywolf by the armor and hoisted him up to the ledge.

I was having trouble getting my arms into the sleeves, but stopped struggling to watch Greywolf grit his teeth in obvious pain, his left arm cradled against his chest. She got him settled and he exhaled sharply as his face eased. "That’s better. Thank you, mistress...?"

"Just Zanzabel," she replied, flashing her broad smile of white pearls in a rich black face. "Once a spy for Muzen, but now..." She broke off, staring at the craggy warrior, who was looking out the window. She sighed. "Probably just a slave."

"Not necessarily," Lys called back over her shoulder before looking out the window again. The Daemo fumbled with the latch before getting it open, and pushed the shutters back.

A brisk wind blew in from the empty courtyard, my skin prickling as the other three glanced back at me. I know I must have looked every inch a street whore with my dress half off, but I could not get myself unsnarled as Zanzabel left him and helped me get the dress back on. Then she wrapped the pashmina around my shoulders and helped me sit down on the ledge behind Greywolf.

He shifted around until we were sitting side by side. "Wysper, are you alright?" I opened my mouth to reply as a guilty expression stole over his face, and he blurted out, "I'm so sorry I got you into this mess. I mean, it's all my fault, but you looked so sad when that horrid priestess told you no, and I thought I could just kiss you and disappear again."

I could not get the words out to tell him everything was alright, but thought if I touched him, he would understand. I reached with my hand to stroke his face…

No! My hand curled into a ball and I pulled it back as every instinct told me not to do it, that to touch anything without the High Priest’s permission was to risk losing both my hands forever, despite what he claimed about them growing back. Greywolf sighed. “Yeah, I figured you’d be sorry I dragged you into this mess.”

How can he think that? I violently shook my head no as Zanzabel said, "I do not think Wysper is sorry at all."

“Then why are her hands are still clenched into fists?”

Zanzabel glanced down at my lap and I clasped my hands together with my fingers locked, my eyes downcast. She brushed one of my golden locks back behind my ear. "Yes, now I understand. Greywolf, Wysper would be touching you right now, except she has been forbidden to use her hands to touch almost anything."

"Truly?" I nodded without looking at him. "Here." Greywolf slowly uncurled the arm he had been cradling against his chest and placed it in my lap. "Go ahead and grasp it. Just don't whip it around like the Shadowcat did, or you're going to hear me shriek like a girl."

I could not help but smile, yet it slid off my face as I stared at the scarred hand in my lap. "Greywolf wants to help you," Zanzabel said in a gentle voice. "But you have to take the first step.”

The first step. Even before Sasnayam raiders came through the Shadowlands to the Temple of Pan, the Brittani priests had restricted what I could or could not touch, and it only got worse under the High Priest...

No, I will not call him that. Yun-Kax, the god, is a lie; my life here has been one long falsehood, my blood and my mana given to beings called Celestials, who used me to keep themselves in power. Muzen was sitting cross-legged with the Ogri keeping watch, and seeing my gaze shift, lifted one painted eyebrow. My eyes narrowed. Never again. Never again will I allow Muzen or anyone else to rip this mana node from my body, not while I have the strength to resist.

My gaze returned to Greywolf as I forced my hands to unfold as I struggled to speak. “Hard…” He nodded in understanding, and I put my hand to my chest. “I… am… Brittani.”

Greywolf nodded again. “Asena always told me the Brittani people were some of the fiercest fighters she’d ever known.” I blinked. Asena the Wolf-mother? No, it must be someone named after her. Yet hearing him speak the name of a legend, as if he knew her, gave me courage. Take a deep breath. Now, reach out with both hands and grasp his.

His fingers were rough and calloused, his fingernails cracked with dirt underneath. They were the most wonderful fingers I had ever touched. “Warrior… hands.”

“You have the hands of a princess, soft as velvet.” He grinned. “See, that wasn’t so bad. I think-”

"They're coming," the German called back to us, and Greywolf let go of me to shift around on the ledge so he could see out once more. I turned as well and looked past his shoulder. At least a hundred men in leather jerkins were marching more or less in step towards the building, each with a quiver of arrows at his side. Their legs were bare with sandal straps wrapped around each ankle to the knee.

Behind them, the shadowed outline of armored men with shields and spears halted as the archers continued marching towards us.

In their hands they held short bows with an arrow set into the bowstring. Someone yelled a command and they halted, well within bowshot, while several men in tunics came running up carrying pots of smoldering rocks by their handles. They placed them between the archers in the front row before turning around and running back the way they came. The German glanced back at us. "Flame-stone," he said in a cheerful voice. "Dip your arrow into the soft stone and it clings to the wood, letting you set fire to anything burnable."

"I thought it was expensive," the craggy warrior growled as a tall woman in white robes, and a shorter, brown haired burly man in robes of dark blue, strode towards us between the ranks of the archers.

"It is," the German said with a shrug. "But I'm guessing blood-corn's a lot more valuable."

The pair of robed figures stepped in front of the first row of archers and stopped. "War-leader Kula," the woman said in a husky voice, "I am Tannaz, head priestess for the temple of Ix-Chel, and this is Farzod, head priest for the temple of Chaac. I apologize for this show of force, but the High Priests of our respective temples commanded us to alter the terms of our agreement and stamp out Bukhara's desire to regain their independence."

Priest Farzod shrugged. "Nor will they allow a new kingdom on lands the Sasnayam empire claims. We tried convincing them this was a truly bad idea, double-crossing the White Horde, but you know, temple and empire politics and all that."

The craggy warrior Kula folded his arms across his chest. "How do you know so much about us?"

Priestess Tannaz gave him a painful look. "Kula, please. You have spies, but we have better ones."

"Had," Zanzabel leaning on me as she yelled out the window, fury stark on her face. "Redhunter took a Battle-axe to the chest, and I am just sorry Muzen was the one who killed him and not me."

"Zanzabel," Tannaz purred, "so glad to see you are still alive. I personally plan to send your head to Queen Zenobia in a sack."

"What a coincidence," Kula called out with a savage smile. "I'm planning to send both of yours to Tesiphon the same way."

"Enough," Priest Farzod roared. "Kula, these are the terms we offer. You and all your warriors will give up your weapons, whereupon you will be marched out the front gate and across the bridge, to go where you will. Muzen will be given to us, wrapped in golden chains, as will the Shadow-walker, Greywolf.” They want him as well? Are Shadow-walkers that prized? “All of Muzen's retainers must be killed, especially the three Celtic Priestesses who by their paleness are obviously not human, but Revenants of Ghash-Kimil, and their bodies laid out in the Temple of Yun-Kax.

“You may loot both temples of their valuables, but the blood-corn remains here with us. The White Horde will then pack up and move eastward, out of Bukhara's lands, or north if you want to terrorize the Lords of Khor. We truly do not care. These are our terms which are not negotiable. So, are you ready to accept these conditions?"

Kula burst out laughing. "Let me offer you another choice. How about I shove my sword so far up your arse it tickles your nose, while the woman beside you dances naked for the Great Khan before we make her a bed-slave. Those are my conditions, also not negotiable."

Muzen must have spoken to Titan, for he was on his feet with the Ogri's sword point against his back, moving towards the open window. "Tannaz, Farzod," he called out, "bide a moment while I speak with the War-leader."

Kula whirled around, the suspicion on his face mirrored by the two head priests, but Muzen spoke to him in a quiet voice and Kula's face grew thoughtful. "Fox, bring the African woman and join us." Zanzabel and the small Daemo traded suspicious looks, but both moved towards them.

This is not going to end well. I am going to die tonight, either by fire or at the end of a blade, and I will not squander what little happiness I can get. My fingers touched the side of Greywolf's face; startled, he turned back towards me, trying not to wince but failing badly. I smiled. "Last... kiss?"

"It's not going to be a last anything for us. I swore I'd protect you and I mean it. I-" Putting my face next to his, our lips touched, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as our tongues met. I felt wicked, but I did not care as I pressed my body against his armored chest. No one was going to steal this last moment of sweetness away from me.

Then Priest Farzod called out, "War-leader Kula, if you do not accept these terms right now, I shall order the archers to-"

"Farzod," Muzen walking to the window as I let Greywolf go and we both looked out onto the plaza, "you know these terms are meant to spark a war with the White Horde."

The burly priest grimaced. "Exactly what am I supposed to do? You need to be ground into the dirt, and the nobles distracted from their desire to wage war against the Empire of the East. By the time the barbarians decide to attack, our army will be strengthened by the blood-corn, and ready to hold out until the Emperor's forces arrive."

"Or the warriors now assembling downstairs, all of who wear Artifact armor, will come charging out and not stop until all of your soldiers are dead. Farzod, I am too weak to do anything requiring more than a trickle of mana, so let me come down and discuss a compromise." He opened his arms. "Beginning with a full confession of my guilt upon the steps of the Bukhara temple of Chaac."

I whispered in Greywolf’s ear, “That would be a major coup for Farzod.”

Tannaz gave the other priest a dark look as Farzod smiled. "Such an action would please our High Priest."

"We cannot trust him," Tannaz hissed.

"I shall come down empty handed," Muzen said, "and give you my word of honor not to unleash any offensive spell against you." He chuckled. "To be honest, I am so spent I would likely fall down if I tried. Bide a moment and I will be right there." He stepped away from the window and walked deeper inside, Titan still at his back with the sword.

Muzen's gaze swept over all of us. "Since I am to confess my crimes, let me begin here. Truly, I am guilty of hubris, and underestimating my opponents, especially Greywolf." His gaze fixed itself upon us. "I was wrong; you are your mother's son... and on the day I slay her, you shall become mine."

Fatigue must have been washing over him, for he had begun leaning against me, but for a moment anger pushed it aside as he sat up. "Never. If you go up against her, Asena will kill you and I'll be there to help."

Muzen raised one painted eyebrow. "We will see. This is not over between us, Greywolf, but is merely beginning. The same goes for the rest of you, but especially Wysper." His gaze seemed to look past Greywolf and into my eyes. "You have not seen the last of me."

"Perhaps," Titan rumbled, pushing Muzen towards the door with the point of his sword, "but the first of you is trying my patience." Muzen chuckled and lets himself be herded out the doorway.

A few moments later he walked out alone onto the plaza, stopping midway between the building and the archers, and turning around. "Kula," he called out. "The enemy of my enemy is my ally, at least for now." A grey mist formed in front of the Daemo with silvery grey hair; she stepped into it, and vanished...

Reappearing again right in front of Muzen. She handed him something, then stepped through another gateway back into the Shadowlands. She reappeared beside me. "And so it begins," the Daemo whispered.

Muzen, holding the blue Gem of Return in his hand, turned around and began speaking the words of invocation. Tannaz whirled about and took off running as Farzod screamed at the archers. They lifted their bows and took aim.

Muzen disappeared as the plaza exploded.