Amazonia - Prince Timur

"The High Priest of the heart-eaters allows 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 at the back of the room, across from where Karl now sits with Princess, are four men of the steppe in hardened leather armor with small metal rings sewn on. Their black hair's long, braided down the back, and their faces are harsh as a cliff face. Greywolf tenses as if he's about to launch himself across the room, but remains still as I stand up and rest my 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, jumps to his feet. "Ugly wench, you've just insulted Prince Timur of the White 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, might as well jump right in. "Greywolf," I hiss, "join Asena." He vaults the table with easy grace and lands on his feet, Asena growling something at him I ignore as I turn towards the squat man and sneer. "I couldn't have insulted Prince Timur," contempt dripping from my voice, "because such a powerful warrior has Bloodguards protecting him from his enemies, not yapping little dogs."

That's more like it: the other three are chuckling while the squat man's face goes crimson. He spits on the floor and grasps 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 roll the dice. "As you wish." I tuck and roll across the table as the Rune sword leaps out of his sheath, my hand grasping the leather bound hilt as my war sandals hit the floor. Then I lunge forward and hold with the tip of my blade scant inches from his throat. "You're not getting an apology," my free hand waving my Wardogs to back off as the other three go still as stone. All the humor's gone from their faces. "So, you'd best go ahead and spit me." I give his stunned expression a death's head smile. "I'm waiting."

The largest man of the other three stands, his face scarred and a thick beard covering his chin. "Jebe," he snarls, "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 rumbles, "Amazonia was once a champion of the Imperial Arena at Konstanopolis, but was remade by her old master into a Reaver Knight."

"Impossible," the man on my other side says. "Reaver Knights are a story told by the elders around the ceremonial fire."

"Look at the sword," the man beside Prince Timur hisses. He's taller than the other three with broad shoulders. "Have you ever heard of an Artifact sword with glowing runes carved into the blade?"

"Argat is right." Prince Timur regards the runes on my sword, hovering near Jebe's neck. "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." I lower the tip of my sword until it touches the stone floor, watching Jebe from the corner of my eye as I regard the prince. "I stand here because the Sasnayam empire betrayed my former master, an equally foolish man named Paulus." This part's rehearsed, yet the truth echoes in many of the words I speak. "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?"

I shake my head. "Too obvious. No, the original plan was to send us here to Bukhara, to use against anyone the Sasnayam empire thought might cause trouble on their satrapies' eastern border."

"In other words... us." I nod and the three stiffen, Jebe's eyes darting back and forth as if he doesn't have any idea what's going on. Prince Timur takes 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 decided I wanted revenge upon the Sasnayams for what they've done."

The prince's eyes lock onto mine. "What would you do to the Sasnayams, if you could?"

"Plunder their cities and enslave their people." I make my 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 snarls 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 begins drawing his sword.

Prince Timur's hand clamps 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 glances at me. "What was it you said? As you wish." He removes his hand from Jebe's wrist and steps back.

"Mongrel cur," Jebe's steel sword ringing as it clears the sheathe, "I'll gut you like-"

The tip of my sword whips up in a blur as I lunge forward, piercing his eye as I press the blade until it reaches the back of his skull. The sword drops from nerveless fingers as he spasms, the metal clattering onto the stone floor as I pull out my weapon and step back. Jebe collapses in a heap and goes still as Prince Timur looks down at him.

Then he looks up at me. "It would seem I'm now short a Bloodguard. According to the legends the old ones tell around the fire, when 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 rumbles, "and her six Chaldean Wardogs will hold to it as well, out of loyalty to their knight."

The prince raises his thick eyebrows. "Six? I only count five, unless one's missing."

"We lost one in the arena when we were banished," I reply, motioning 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."

Argat gives a start. "My prince, the Lycaon mercenary named 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, I meet 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 adds, "and it is crafted from Ironwood. The oath will hold for a long time."

"If I can in good faith make it." A darkness steals 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, where Tengri told him that my youngest brother Avitohol should be made the Khan of Khan after our father dies."

This wasn't expected. "But you are the eldest."

Prince Timur scowls as Argat says, "The words of the shaman carry great weight, yet there are many who disagree with him, 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 says, "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 strikes me like a bolt of lightning and I lower my voice. "My prince, the peace treaty between your people and Bukhara, does it include the Sasnayams as well?"

His gaze becomes intense. "The Sasnayams were deliberately left out of it. What-" His eyes go 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's 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."

"Prince Timur," a local man wearing robes with a nose like a hawk's says, "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 like a flock of Vampyres, stealing gold from the fathers and mothers, and 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 motions 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's giving me a dark look as I motion back behind me. "The Daemo named Fox is a Shadow-walker as well."

Behind me, Fox makes a squeak of fear. "Domina, I only know how to move myself in and out of the Shadowlands."

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

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

"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's looking up at her with a wary expression on his face. "This is important."

Asena gives 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 says from across the room. Bells chime as a young, local woman with a glowing mana stone at her belly and a silver spiral with another mana stone in one ear, walks in. "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 says. "Ashi, or something."

"Ishi, great prince. However, tonight I'm speaking for both the temple of Ix-Chel, and the temple of Chaac, the lord of storms."

Porthos gives 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 brushes the spiral earring with her fingertips. "When I spoke to the head priestess 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 Chaac's with her and listening in as well. Great prince, may I speak freely, even if my words come across as blunt?"

Prince Timur glances my way. "It would seem to be my fate tonight. Say on."

Ishi inclines 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 themselves but other minor temples, like Ghash-Kimil. Ix-Chel is willing to make sure the priests keeping watch the dead tree in the center of their pyramid will be distracted, while Chaac 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 our triumphant warriors. Your raiding party can then travel to the temple ruin outside the city, and escape via the Shadowlands."

Prince Timur hooks 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 Chaac in chains of gold and special amulets draped over him, both of which shall be provided."

Prince Timur shakes 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 looks away a few moments as if listening, then turns 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 turns towards me. "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 leans in close to speak quietly into my 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, I position 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 places his hand over mine where it supports the blade. "I swear to you that I shall become your Bloodguard and obey you in all things, until the sword shatters and I am free of all oaths."

A red glow envelops both of our hands. It fades as the prince snatches his hand away, the room silent as I sheath the sword while he rubs 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, 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 inclines 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 says from the corner where he's holding 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 chuckles. "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. Right afterward we were separated, and I never had a chance to pay it back."

Asena laughs... at least, I think she's laughing as she bares her fangs. "You bastard, I'd completely forgotten about that. Great debt indeed." Titan laughs as she throws her massive arms around him, giving the Ogri a bone crushing hug that would kill anyone else as he returns 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 roars, her voice echoing off the walls, "where are you?"

Running footsteps from the next room, and a moment later bells wildly chime as the innkeeper pokes 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 grows sharp. "The agreement was for you..." Both Asena and Titan glare down at him, and the innkeeper goes pale as death. "Of course, wine for everyone. Coming right up."