Wysper - Abduction

The company of Warghorse riders were far off, but getting closer by the moment.

"Wysper, drop your pack and run," Asena growled as she pulled out the short stabbing sword and tossed it towards Greywolf. I slipped my arms out of the straps and let it fall as I took off running, glancing back as Greywolf caught the sword and did the same. Asena and Castor practically flung their packs to the ground before breaking into a run.

I was several horse-lengths ahead of them, still looking over my shoulder as Asena called out, "Make for the ruins just beyond the grey tree. Greywolf can open a wide hole in the Shadowlands, and then-"

A grey oval formed between me and the others. I gasped as a Warghorse thundered through it, with a Tartaros warrior in leather armor on its back and Fox in Artifact armor sitting behind him.

Before I could even scream, the man leaned towards me in his saddle and grabbed me by the waist as the mount galloped past. He lifted me up and dumped me face first onto the creature's back. The impact knocked the breath from me as Fox yelped, "You did it! Make for the top of the hill so we can put some distance between us and that Night Hag."

I squirmed, trying to break free, but the warrior held me down with a firm hand as Greywolf yelled my name. The warrior laughed. "Struggle all you want, kitten," he said in a harsh voice. "The Great Khan told me if I pulled this off, I'd get to play with you first. I'm going to break your spirit as I-"

"Turn around," Fox screamed. Twisting my head forward, a wave of greyness crested the hill and rolled towards us. "Turn the Warg-" The grey wave hit us and rolled on past.

Color drained from the world as a large, hairless flying creature back-winged in front of us. Then it dug its claws into the warrior's chest armor. It's enormous wings filled my vision as the creature pulled him out of the saddle, the Warghorse rearing back as the man screamed. His kicking feet knocked me off as the Warghorse madly galloped away with Fox clinging to the saddle.

Fox wailed in terror as I accidentally flipped mid-air and landed on my feet, unable to stop myself from tumbling onto the dry grass and rolling a couple times before coming to a halt. Panting as I raised my head, the flying creature bit the head off the warrior and dropped his body as the grey wave rolled back over me going the opposite way.

Color rushed back into the world. The flying creature was gone, but the headless body dropped to the ground with a thud, blood spurting from its jagged neck while Fox's Warghorse continued galloping madly back towards Bukhara. I rose to my knees as a rumbling sound grew louder from the opposite side of the hill.

A line of black armored warriors riding Warghorses crested the hill above me and thundered straight down the slope. I froze in horror, my mind screaming in panic at my frozen limbs: Get up, wave your arms, do something!

I could not move, but only watched as more Tartaros riders came over the hill, following the leading line. One of the warriors held the banner of a dragon with black scales... their mounts were picking up speed on the downhill slope, growing larger by the moment... the wind whipped the slather from their jaws, the earth trembling as their hooves tore up the ground, getting closer... a Warghorse was galloping straight at me, a startled expression on the warrior's face, but it was too late to veer away... I am going to die... I am going to die… I-

The thundering Warghorse filled my vision as a grey oval formed and strong arms pulled me through.

Color fled the world around me once more as a body not wearing armor landed on top of me. Behind us, a female's horrid voice shrieked, "You cannot escape me forever, Shadow-walker. Someday, I shall feast upon your heart... the feast!"

"Wotan's blood, that was close," Greywolf panted. The hideous voice continued shrieking as I flung my arms around him, crying hysterically in relief with my knees pressed against his chest. Greywolf gave me a fierce hug back. "You're okay, Wysp; nothing can hurt you now. But we need to get moving because everything around us still is."

I let go of him as he continued holding me, wiping my eyes on my sleeve as I forced myself to calm down. "Apologies, but everything was happening too fast, and I thought I was about to die." My eyes went wide as I looked around. "Are we underneath the Warghorse?"

The detailed shadow of a galloping Warghorse's belly was a finger length from our heads, its head pointed down as if attacking the horrible, grey crone with sharp claws instead of fingers, still shrieking in frustration as we both scooted away from it. The Warghorse itself crept forward at a snail’s pace.

"The Warghorse's the reason we're still both alive. The shadows of living things burn Shadow-creatures like cold iron, and the larger, the better." My eyes met his and he smiled. "The Night Hag won't touch us so long as we use the Warghorses as cover, so we sneak through them until we reach the last line, where I'll make another gate back to the real world."

Glancing up the hill, there were several more rows of Warghorses charging down it. "But who are... wait, I saw a banner with a black dragon."

Greywolf nodded. "I saw it too, and the only Shadow-walker strong enough to make such a big gate is papa."

"Your father is here?"

"He must be, but why anyone's here at all will have to wait. C'mon." Greywolf crouched along underneath the Warghorse shadow and I copied his movements until we moved past the first one, the beasts staggered enough so we could sneak our way between them without the Night Hag being able to touch us. As her shrieks began coming from farther away, as if she was circling the company, we reached the last row of Warghorses and he formed another grey gateway. Taking my hand, we moved through it together.

Color filled the world as the Warghorses rumbled down the slope behind us, and with the crest of the hill just above us, we turned around. The riders split into two groups as they reached Asena and Castor, reforming into a protective semi-circle around them as the Warghorses came to a halt.

A short distance farther down the slope, the Tartaros warriors with the banner of a white boar on a green field were slowing to a stop as well. The two companies look evenly matched as a short warrior moved a horse-length forward. "Kula, where are Greywolf and Wysper?"

"That's Attila," Greywolf said with a grin.

Attila raised the Artifact battle-axe in his hand. "If you've hurt them, I swear-"

"We are up here," I yelled, waving my arms as Greywolf added his voice to mine.

Both groups looked up at us, flame haired Hypam giving a whoop of laughter many of her warriors echoed. They quieted down as Kula yelled back, "Greywolf and the priestess Wysper are accused of murdering Yasataar with evil magic and casting an illusion in her place to sow chaos. Khan Timur has publicly decreed that both shall not be executed, as they are too valuable to waste, but must be punished for their crimes."

"That's a pile of Warg shite and you know it," Attila yelled back.

Kula shrugged. "Doesn't matter whether I believe it or not, or even if it's true. The Great Khan issued a summons for both of them to appear in his court to answer the charges, but instead they fled from Bukhara, leaving their Daemo mount behind. It bolted the moment it caught sight of us, hoping to lead us on a false trail, but I knew exactly which way the fugitives were heading."

"Hel take that Daemo," Asena roared. "I knew she was playing us false."

Much farther off, a pale, slender figure was still clinging to the saddle of a galloping Warghorse as Kula yelled, "Enough of this. Avitohol, for my company I chose the most heavily armored and experienced Warg-lancers I could muster. They will rip through your Black Dragons like a scythe through wheat, and kill both Asena and Castor, neither of who Timur vowed to spare. Or, the two fugitives can end this by surrendering peacefully."

"Yasataar wasn't an illusion and you know it. Yasataar was trying to warn you, one last time, that choosing Timur was wrong."

Kula seemed to sigh. "Yasataar gave us a choice between two different ways to die. Either slowly, chasing a tired old man's dream of becoming civilized, or gloriously, ravaging an empire in an orgy of fire and blood. No, the People have chosen their path, and those two children are needed to make sure something survives of us once the Rune sword breaks and the dead turn against us.

“Their actions in trying to sneak away proved their guilt to all the people, both in the encampment and the city, so even if they escape, all of the lands around Bukhara will be looking to take them alive. Avitohol, don't be foolish. Give them up peacefully and go live your life free with your cousin and her people, or watch her and everyone else around you die. What is your decision?"

The little warrior laid the battle-axe across his lap. "Kula, the boy you knew as Avitohol is dead. My name is Attila." He placed both of his little fingers to his lips and gave out a piercing whistle.

In response, an even greater rumble started up on the other side of the wide hill, and we turned around. A moment later, another line of Warghorses appeared, only this one stretched a long ways to either side, with a company of riders as large as Kula's group riding a short way forward on each flank. "Shite," Greywolf said, "no wonder the gate was so huge."

Attila lifts the battle-axe back up and rested it on his shoulder. "I formed my new clan with the remainder of the Black Dragons, who are both heavily armored and much more experienced than your men. When Ghostdog brought Titan and Paulus to our camp this morning, Titan told me what Paulus had overheard Timur say. So I went ahead and brought everyone."

Kula and all his warriors were gaping or muttering among themselves with uneasy expressions. "This is impossible," Kula shouted.

"If you really think I'm lying, and this is either an illusion or a bluff, go ahead and charge." Attila took the Artifact battle-axe off his shoulder and pointed the double-bladed head at Kula. "But if you do, once we've shattered your company and sent them fleeing, we're continuing on until we reach the people streaming through your city."

Kula drew his sword and pointed it at Attila's face. "You would dare attack your own defenseless people?"

"They were Avitohol's people. The Black Dragons are Attila's, and they remember warriors of the White Boar clan attacking their clan and slaughtering their people when the Black Dragon warriors were elsewhere. But they have agreed to let the past remain buried if you turn your company around and return empty-handed."

"Do you realize this means war between our peoples?"

"It was war the moment Timur plotted to defile Wysper, the daughter I'm planning to adopt." I blinked. Daughter? I thought that business had been forgotten when the old Khan denied him. Attila rested his battle-axe on his shoulder once more. "So what will it be, Kula? Fight or flee?" For a long moment, Kula glared at him.

Then slammed his sword back into its sheathe. "The day will come when I make you regret this decision."

"The only regret I'm going to have is when you force me to take your head... and by the way," a sarcastic edge entering Attila's voice, "you better check the vault where the blood-corn's kept. I think you're short a few sacks." Outrage swept across Kula's face... is he going to order his troops to charge? He did not, instead pulling hard on his Warghorse's reins to turn the animal around as he barked out orders in their harsh language. He rode back towards Bukhara and his company fell in behind him.

Attila barked out orders of his own, turning his mount around and riding up the hill towards us as the rest of Hypam's company did the same. "Wysper," Attila called out as he got close, "are you alright?"

He reined in his Warghorse beside me as I said, "I am fine, my prince... ah, do I still call you that?"

Attila leaned over in the saddle, extending his hand. "It's khan, but we'll talk about that later." Despite his youth, he pulled me up effortlessly and set me down behind him. "Right now there's someone you need to meet."

Hypam rode up beside Greywolf and helped him up as Attila's Warghorse broke into a canter, the riders at the top of the hill making a space for him before turning their mounts around as well. At the bottom of the hill were the ruins of the large temple that had once guarded the dead, grey tree, with Ghostdog standing beside it, smiling. Titan was close by, as was Paulus... but standing next to him was someone strange.

He was a warrior in Artifact armor, but instead of the square rectangular plates that were used in the east, his armor had the small, round discs used by the Brittani. The helm he wore was also Brittani, being leather softened by boiling in wax, and then molded into a conical, open faced shape, before being transmuted into Artifact.

He wore a round shield strapped to his back and had a sheathed sword at his side. As we got close, I could see his face underneath the helm was clean shaven, and somehow familiar... he has to be a nobleman of our people, but why did Ghostdog bring him here? Attila slowed his mount as we approached the fallen stones, weaving his way around them until coming to a halt near the tree. The Brittani nobleman removed his helm.

He had the dark red hair of a blood mage, with golden bangs like mine at his temples. I gasped. "Alar?"

Alar laughed as Attila, grinning himself, helped me down. I flew into his arms, both of us laughing and crying in equal portion as we clung to each other. Standing behind me, Greywolf said in an uncertain voice, "Wysp, who's this?"

Alar let me go as I turned around. "Apologies," I said to him as I wiped my eyes. "This is Alar, my fraternal twin brother."

Relief touched Greywolf's face a moment before he smiled. "Greywolf, son of Asena." He held out his arm. "Well met."

"Alar does not speak Greco-Roma."

"Actually," my brother said, "Alar does now." Gripping Greywolf's arm in a warrior's clasp, he added, "It's a long journey to get here, even with the difference in time, and Ghostdog taught me Greco-Roma along the way."

As they let go, Greywolf said, "Hey, papa taught you how to talk like a regular person, and not all flowery like your sister."

Alar laughed, clapping Greywolf on the shoulder as I rolled my eyes at both of them. "Why do I have the feeling the two of you are going to be thick as thieves in a fortnight?" It was Greywolf's turn to laugh as Alar made the 'who, me?' gesture he used to tease me with before I was sent to the temple. "Alar, you did not come all this way just to learn Greco-Roma."

"You're right, I didn't." The humor on his face died as he turned towards Paulus. "Would you mind retrieving my satchel?"

Paulus nodded, walking over to a brown horse tied to a large bush and grasping a battered leather satchel hanging from the saddle by its leather strap. He unhooked it, then held the satchel out with both hands as if it contained a holy book.

My heart began beating faster as unease transmuted itself into fear. "Alar, what is going on?" Paulus handed him the satchel, and without answering my question, Alar undid the flap and reached inside, letting the leather case fall as he pulled something out.

Alar held in his hands a crown of leaves, dark red as old blood. My hand went to my mouth as he nodded. "Our mother, Queen Boudica, died when the capitol city was overrun by the Kingdom of the Gauls, as were her other children except for you and me. We thought you were lost to us as well, until Ghostdog arrived with news that you were not only alive, but also free. You need to come home with me. Your people need you."

My eyes on the red leaved crown, I took an unconscious step back. "No, that cannot be true. I was the sacrifice." I looked up and my eyes met his. "The law of the druids is clear: the sacrifice can never become queen."

Alar's hands on the crown never wavered. "You stopped being the sacrifice when you gave yourself to the son of Ghostdog and the Wolf-mother. Pan himself has forgiven you, and instructed me to give you this message. 'You must return to Britannia and become the last Queen Boudica. There is no one else.