Greywolf - Kula takes command

The tent flap closes behind Yasataar, and at once everyone begins speaking in their harsh language, a few voices beginning to argue as Khan Khingla speaks a single word.

The large tent goes silent as the Great Khan looks around. "I have listened to your words. Now, all of you shall listen to mine. The People of the Eternal Sky are going to take the first path the Keeper of the Spirits spoke of, the forging of a new nation, and the Blood-corn we take from the vaults of Bukhara will be the cornerstone of our success.

"As to the raid itself, such an important responsibility must be given to the one who has proven himself superior time and time again. War-leader Kula, will you take charge of our warriors?"

Kula rises to his feet and bows. "I would be honored, Great Khan. May I have your blessing to organize them as I see fit?"

"You have my blessing in this and in all matters. Have you given any thought of a plan?"

"I began planning the moment I heard this idea mentioned. Greywolf, I understand you instructed the Daemo Shadow-walker on opening the gateway near Bukhara, which means you're familiar with the place. Can you open the way for three hundred warriors?"

Papa knew I'd be called upon to do exactly this one day, and drilled into my head how to understand the use of space. "Yes sir, but they're going to have to stay close together until we're fully inside the Grey. Otherwise, someone on the edge may get left behind."

"That will not be a problem. So, three groups of one hundred men each: the Khanda swordsmen, led by Prince Timur, the eighty five mercenary Xian crossbowmen with their Artifact weapons, led by Captain Tang, and one hundred of Tengri's Chosen, under my command. Also Karl the Outlander and Lys, the Ogri, Titan, and Prince Timur's Reaver Knight and her Wardogs."

"Prince Timur," Khan Khingla says in a formal voice, "since this was your original plan, it is right that you share in the glory and the risks of seeing it accomplished. Will you accept command of the Khanda swordsmen and follow Kula as War-leader?"

The prince rises to his feet and bows. "Great Khan, it will be my honor and privilege to do so."

Kula gives him a brusque nod. "So, the plan itself will be simple and easily changed should problems arise... as they always do." Khan Khingla chuckles as Kula smiles back at him over some private memory most likely, the War-leader's craggy face growing stern once more. "Since Tengri has blessed us with two Shadow-walkers, we will use Greywolf to open the way and fight off Shadow creatures, while keeping the Daemo in reserve among the Chosen."

Kula gives me a dark look. "Prince Timur has told me about you." Oh, shite. "I need to know if I can trust you to follow my orders without question, and to take no unnecessary risks."

Everyone's eyes are on me as I nod. "Yes sir..."

Kula raises his eyebrows. "But?"

Take a deep breath. This is important. "I need to know if you'll listen to what I tell you when we're in the Shadowlands." Shite, his eyes are narrowing. "I mean, I know how important this is, but I know the Shadowlands and its creatures better than anyone else. If you don't listen to me it could get someone killed." It did once, but I think I'll leave that off unless he asks.

The War-leader stares at me a moment. "I listen to warriors, not to children. Act like a warrior and you will have my attention. Are we clear?"

I suppress a sigh. "Yes sir."

He turns back towards the Khan. "We know the schedules of their patrols, so moving the raiding party to the ruin undetected shouldn't be a problem. We move through the Shadowlands to the temple of Ghash-Kimil, where another dead tree marking a gateway is guarded, then arrange our forces so when Greywolf returns us to the real world, all the priests will die. The Khanda will hold the temple with part of the Xian mercenaries as support, and as Captain Tang takes the rest to the vaults to begin taking the Blood-corn, the Chosen, along with the Ogri, will attack Muzen."

An old man on the nobleman's side raises his hand. "This attack will not be quiet."

"The city will not be either," Prince Timur says. "According to our spy, Redhunter, the last night of the festival will be a frenzy of merrymaking and gaudy magic, and once we've broken down the doors, no one will notice the fighting."

"If your friends from the rival temples keep their word by having the guards stand down," Kula says.

Prince Varsena raises his hand. "Great Khan, I have seen the High Priest's house, and have an idea that might make things easier. Instead of attacking directly, what if we used a ruse to get them to open the doors?" Khan Khingla motions for Varsena to rise, and he gets to his feet. "War-leader Kula, there are at least fifty or more priests in the temple of Ghash-Kimil. Half the Chosen take their robes and march Greywolf to the side door next to the kitchen, while the other fifty wait in the darkness near the main one."

Kula's slowly nodding. "Muzen will think Greywolf was skulking around and got caught." He gives me a sharp look. "Will Muzen believe this?"

I shrug. "If enough hands are holding onto me, I can't make a big enough gate to enter the Shadowlands."

"Or," Varsena adds, "Greywolf pretends to be unconscious. Either way, the side door will open. If you attach a half-dozen crossbowmen to the Chosen, the moment Kula gives the command, the crossbowmen open fire, then fall back as the Chosen rush the door."

Behind me, Karl says, "Great Khan, may I add a thought?" He motions with his hand, and Karl moves up beside me. "If I can involve Ishi, it'll make the ruse more plausible."

Kula glances over at Prince Timur, who strokes his beard. "I believe Karl's onto something."

"It will also give us a hostage," Kula says, "should your friends from the rival temples decide to turn on us."

Prince Timur draws himself up. "They would never dare betray us for fear of sparking a war with the People."

Khan Khingla clears his throat. "Greed makes people stupid. Kula, regardless of their actions, we will keep our end of the bargain."

War-leader Kula bows. "As you command."

The Great Khan looks around with a satisfied expression. "Does anyone else care to speak before this meeting ends?" Prince Avitohol raises his hand and the Khan frowns. "Avitohol, if you are going to ask for the traditional place beside the War-leader for an unbloodied boy, you know I must refuse. This raid could well end in disaster, and I dare not risk your life."

Avitohol looks as though he'd like to argue the point as Kula turns towards the throne. "Great Khan, we could take his blood brother Bayan in his place. That way, Avitohol will share in the glory."

The Khan nods. "Do so. Anyone else?" The tent remains silent and he opens his arms. "Then this council is over. As always, keep the words spoken within these tent walls close to your chest."

"Yes, Great Khan," all the men say as they rise to their feet and bow. I get up as well, grasping my faded tunic and putting it on as Prince Avitohol picks up my body armor and examines it. "Varsena," he calls back over his shoulder, "you should see this. His Artifact back plates were sliced in half."

If I'd been a touch slower, it would've been my back as well, but I keep that thought to myself as the men begin leaving the tent. I look up as Prince Varsena joins us and takes the armor from Avitohol's hands. He's a little taller than I am, and solid, only seeming to be slender in comparison to Prince Timur, who strides past us without a word. Varsena examines it front and back with a critical eye, before looking up. "Greywolf, I can fix this if you want."

"You will?" He nods, and my eyes widen a little. "But... you're a prince, ah, your highness."

Varsena chuckles. "Do not let my brother Prince Iron-for-brains hear you call me that, or I will never hear the end of it."

"They don't give themselves airs," Karl says as Lys vaults herself onto his shoulder. "Prince Varsena's also a mage, which puts him into a different category than his brothers."

I give Karl a puzzled look, but it's Varsena who answers. "The People possess several scales from the mythical Rainbow Dragon, and when my mother became the Great Khan's second wife, she wore the blue scale over her belly all during her pregnancy, to give the Great Khan a mage crafter and to keep me from being a threat to my older brother."

I scratch my head. "Why would it matter whether you're a mage or not?"

"It's an ancient law from a long time ago," Avitohol answers. "No mage can ever become a warrior, and only a warrior can be made Khan."

"But I saw Blood-mages among the Tartaros warriors."

"They're fighters," Avitohol replies, "but not warriors. We use them as outriders, which are like scouts, and they keep the wounded alive during battle."

"All mages are also crafters," Varsena adds. "Many clan leaders keep a Blood-mage at their side as we are more educated than our normal warriors are."

"We get our education on the field of battle," Avitohol retorts, puffing out his chest. Varsena rolls his eyes as the young prince turns in my direction. "My mother's a Tartaros Steppe fighter of the Black Dragon clan, who live far to the north. Before I was born, she was part of the peace settlement between the Dragon clan and the White Boar, and she vowed that I'd be born a warrior, even if it meant conflict with my older brother."

"Khojin is a harridan," Varsena says, "but she has been a solid rock of support to our father ever since my mother died." He shrugs. "She has even begun being nice to me, though it has more to do with my not being a threat to Prince Runt here than anything else." Avitohol sticks his tongue out at his older brother, making us both smile, before Varsena turns his critical eye on me. "Greywolf, you look famished. Have you eaten anything today?"

"I had a mug of kaffe this morning with a crust of bread. Asena likes to hunt trolls when she's hungry; says it sharpens her senses, though I've never noticed much difference."

"Does she really eat their hearts after she has killed them?" I nod, making a face, and he laughs. "Remind me never to go hunting with you two. Karl, can you take care of him while I take care of his armor? I want to get this done before anyone else needs something."

"Is there any chance that I could take a quick dip in the river beforehand? I know I'm beginning to stink of sweat and dried troll blood, and I wouldn't mind washing it off."

Karl chuckles. "Only if you want to scandalize the tribe. However, there are several steam tents with wash-slaves who will help you get clean, so we can visit one of them after we've eaten. I wouldn't mind getting clean myself."

Okay, this is going to be another bog you've got to walk through with care. "Karl, I don't want to offend anyone, but I don't want a slave helping me with anything. I mean, I know keeping slaves is normal pretty much everywhere, but Asena raised me to hate making slaves out of people for any reason."

Avitohol gives me an odd look. "Why would she think like that? We never buy slaves, only capture them in raids, which means they always have a chance to fight back." He motions outward with his hand. "These people didn't fight but instead gave themselves up, knowing it meant they'd become our slaves."

Karl adds, "A wounded warrior who continues to resist, even after it's no longer possible, is often granted respect and left alone to live or die of his injuries as fate wills. As for the ones taken, it's not nearly as bad as slavery in the empires. A slave taken by a warrior for personal use becomes a part of the family, while one taken for the tribe has certain rights, and a chance to win their freedom, depending again upon fate."

"Everyone's encouraged to give tribe slaves a copper or two when they do a good job," Avitohol says. "I'll come with you and we'll make them happy with a bit of silver instead."

None of them are getting the point that freedom shouldn't ever be bought and sold, but I'm not sure they ever will. "My prince, that would be grand."

He claps me on the shoulder. "Just call me Avitohol. We'll save the 'my prince' for after I've figured out how I'm going to make you the first of my Bloodguard."

My mouth drops in shock but he doesn't notice, Avitohol still chattering away as he guides me towards the way out.