Greywolf-The Kiss

The white stone platform rises shoulder level above the people, with stairs on all four sides leading down to the plaza's paved stones. Bald priests in robes a golden yellow color are standing at the bottom of the steps, giving out tiny leather bags to those lined up in front of them, while other priests are crouched down at the platform's corners, placing onto outstretched hands, pieces of glowing red... are those corn kernels? I think they are. A space opens up closer to the platform and I move towards it.

All of the priests are average size, except for one in the center, who's taller than I am with broad shoulders. Around him stand bare chested, muscular fat men, wearing black trousers and wide red sashes around their waists. Each sash has a large scimitar tucked in tight.

Another priest seems to be in charge of a large sack, probably more of this red corn, while three priestesses are standing in a group on my side of the platform. They don't have the look of the local people, but of the northern Celtic tribes, their skin pale as milk despite the sun. Two of them have hair like spun gold, one older and matronly, the other much younger, with the hint of plumpness other men find beautiful. The third...

Breath catches in my throat. She's lean, the bones of her face standing out casting shadows, giving her a starkness the others lack. Then she smiles and the starkness of her face softens as the last of the sun's warmth touches my face. Unlike all the others, she's wearing a simple white dress with red embroidery, a heavy gold choker around her throat and gold at her wrists. Probably at her ankles as well, for gold absorbs the different magics most mages wield, while keeping her from using magic of her own. The mage slaves of the Western empire always wear shackles of gold.

She's a natural born mage, her blood red hair giving her the power to preserve and strengthen, while the golden braids at her temples give her some ability to heal. Thanks to Asena, I can sharpen my vision at need, and as her gaze meets mine, I can tell her eyes are the color of evergreen trees from the far northern lands.

She rears back with her mouth an O of surprise. Did I do something to startle her? Quick, hold up the lemon so she can see it... yes, her smile's returning. I give her a grin and with my other hand, point at the lemon. Her face grows puzzled; I don't think I'm offending her, she might not understand the custom... wait, she must, because she's pointing at the younger priestess beside her. She's making a motion as if giving the lemon to her. I shake my head, point at the lemon, then point at her.

Her delighted expression's like the sun chasing away dark clouds. There's too much noise to hear anything she's saying, but she's turning towards the other two priestesses as if asking permission. The younger one looks at me and her face lights up as well, both of them now turning toward the older priestess like children wheedling treats from their mother as they motion my direction.

The older priestess looks at me and scowls. The faces of the younger ones fall as she scolds them, which I recognize even without being able to hear what is said. Then she looks at me and makes a shooing motion as if I'm a beggar at the door. The younger priestess shrugs as if to say, 'Oh well', and goes back to looking at the crowd, but red hair looks back at me. Her smile is gone, and the expression on her face isn't sad so much as haunted.

I jump a little as an old man in multicolored robes pats me on the arm. "We've all been watching you and Blood-Wysper," he says in Greco-Roma, his voice sounding sympathetic as he motions towards others in the crowd looking at me, "and we wish it could've been otherwise. After everything she's done for us, she deserves to be kissed by a fellow Celt." He translates for the others and they nod, speaking with equally sympathetic tones as they talk to me in their flowing language. I turn towards the platform.

Blood-Wysper's looking at me but no one else is. Nows my chance. "Who says she won't be," I tell the old man with a wink as I open a gateway into the Shadowlands and step through.

Shite, Asena's going to kill me but I don't care. The crowd's become detailed shadows like finely crafted statues, their movements reduced to a snail's pace as time runs so much faster in the Grey. I do a complete circle, looking for threats. There's a Shadow Raptor far off above the palace, but it's traveling away from me and besides, papa told me Shadow creatures feel pain whenever they pass through a living person, so remaining among a crowd's usually safe. Usually.

The old man's face is just beginning to register shock as I pass through him, heading towards the stairs. I run up the steps and stop in front of Blood-Wysper, then do another complete circle to make sure I don't accidentally suck someone into the Shadowlands as I'm leaving... though I'm tempted to do it to that old woman who told her no. That would be evil so I won't do it. But I'm still tempted.

My luck's holding; no one else is looking this way, so I pull a clove off the lemon and stick it on my tongue before opening a gate and stepping through. Blood-Wysper gasps as I wrap my arms around her faster than thought, my actions always lightning quick for a few moments due to the time difference, and kiss her open mouthed. My tongue slides the clove onto hers and I step back. "Tradition demands I give this to the prettiest girl in Bukhara," I say with a smile as I press the lemon into her hand. Then tense as I get ready to spin around and return to the Grey-

She grabs me by the shoulders and kisses me back. Shite, I know I'm in trouble but I don't care, her hip bones grinding against mine as she presses her body close, her tongue tasting of cloves as we continue to kiss. Around us, people gasp as a young woman's voice gives a delighted laugh, and it'll only be a moment before I feel a fat guard's hand on my shoulder. I need to leave but she needs me to stay, needs-

Magical energy washes over me like an angry wave. I push her away and spin around as the tall priest whirls towards me, his face enraged like a charging lion's as I leap through the gate into the Grey. I turn to look at the priest and my stomach lurches. Even though he's only a detailed shadow, there's a column of pale gold with an orange-red core like fire flaring up inside him. Oh shite, he's a Celestial pretending to be a priest!

Celestials can't enter the Shadowlands unless they're in a place where there's a weak spot between the worlds, but if I don't get moving he'll be able to track me. I run down the stairs and through the shadows of the crowd, racing along the main road until I reach the alley with the drunken Direwolf sign, then pelt down it until I reach the door. I leap through it as a gate forms on the other side.

Oof! I bounce off someone in armor, stumble backwards and smack against the door. "Apologies, I wasn't watching where I was going and-"

The bells on the beaded curtain are chiming as Asena grabs me by the front of my tunic. "You never opened the door," she growls, "and you were running. What have you done now?"

The odor of wine rolls off her breath as she puts her shaggy face close to mine. Shite, I'm in trouble. "I just kissed a girl, honest. And someone got upset."

Laughter erupts from the common room. Looking past her, the room's filled with men in armor and an African woman larger than most men. The back of the room's lost in shadow, but there's a shape even bigger than Asena hidden in the darkness... could that be an Ogri? I can't tell- Asena shakes me and I focus on her as she growls, "What girl and who got upset?"

I swallow hard. "Her name's Blood-Wysper and one of the priests-" Shite, her growl just went deeper. "I gave her the clove-lemon and kissed her fast, but she grabbed onto me and wouldn't let go in time."

"Nor did you want her to."

"It's not my fault. She's got green eyes... and freckles."

Everyone else in the room's laughing except for Porthos, who walks up beside Asena holding a copper cup filled with red wine. "Greywolf, Asena's right; you do nothing by half-measures. Blood-Wysper is the one of the reasons Yun-Kax is no longer a minor deity in the Sasnayam pantheon of gods, but the principal one. As the story goes, Muzen had a rare Shadow-walker lead a raiding party into Britannia to steal away the three priestesses and the sacred discs used to create blood-oats, which is much the same as the blood-corn he now distributes to us, and now the people depend on Yun-Kax to help them. Without Blood-Wysper, there would be no blood-corn to distribute, and the practice of sacrificing young women on the altars would resume."

Oh, shite. "Is this Muzen really tall?" Porthos nods, and my face screws up in a wince. "Shite, he thought I was trying to kidnap her. I swear, I only meant-"

Asena picks me up and throws me across the room. A table of black armored mercenaries scramble to grab their wine cups a moment before I slam against the wooden table top and bounce into someone's lap. I shake my head, then look up into the African woman's strong, scarred face. "What in Hades is going on?"

"Apologies. Asena's a little upset with me."

"Upset?" Looking up just over the edge of the table, Asena's stalking towards me with her dark hair bristling. "I'm going to bounce you off these walls until I shake some sense-"

The front door of the inn bangs open. "Where is the Shadow-walker," a deep male voice snarls. I sit up, still on the mercenary woman's lap as the bald priest Muzen stalks into the room. "You will deliver him to me now."