Greywolf - Out of the Shadowlands

Color returns to the world as Ishi screams at the two dead men tearing at her clothes with whitish-grey fingers, and for a heart's beat, men wearing black robes hoot as they clap and point.

One heart's beat later, laughter becomes shrieks becomes wet, bloody gurgles as swords and spears and axes tear the priests apart. Ishi's screams become a gasp as robed men fall around her, the two dead men collapsing to the stone floor as their necromancers die, the black robed bodies writhing on the floor a few moments before the warriors finish them off. One of the Bloodguard must have missed, because one priest's darting away towards the chamber opening, his face looking back over his shoulder as Karl steps in front of him with his axe raised.

I take my hand away from the grey tree as the priest looks forward... at the battle-axe swinging straight down at his head. The weapon splits his skull and the man crashes to the ground, his face a ruin of red and yellow gore. From behind Karl, distant screams and shouts echo off the walls as Karl removes the axe blade from the body with a squelching sound, and the last priest dies from a spear thrust into his chest. I look around at the carnage and breathe deep through my nose.

Yecch, I wish I hadn't. "Ugh, this temple stinks like an old slaughterhouse."

"Oh, I don't know," Troll says as he uses a dead priest's robe to wipe the blood off his sword blade, "I kind of like it."

"Troll, shut up," Amazonia snaps.

He gives me an evil grin. "Yes, Domina."

Argat, one of Prince Timur's Bloodguard, is looking around. "So that's it? What now?"

"Now," Karl replies, "we-" He gasps as he points at Ishi's feet. "Greywolf, 'ware!"

My head whips around as the two dead men stagger to their feet, Ishi screaming again as they lurch towards me. Everyone freezes in shock as the first one, built like a bull, lumbers against the tree and goes ghostly, his form passing right through me while the second runs past the tree without touching it. He slams into me with his hands going for my throat as we fall.

The training Asena drilled into me takes over. Letting the sword go, I grab his ragged tunic and shove my sandaled foot onto his chest as we hit the floor, rolling with my back arched as I push out. He flips over me and lands on the floor with a sickening crunch. I make it to my knees as I draw the Artifact knife... shite, he's lurching to his feet again.

Movement to my left... it's Amazonia, swinging hard, her Rune sword biting deep into his skull as I stand up. He staggers as she rips the blade out, the others yelling as they rush forward, but he's not stopping... leap back, shite, he's got me by the front of my armor. His dead hands slam me backwards against the grey tree. Color bleeds from the world as everything goes silent. The others are only shadows, frozen in mid-swing or thrust, unable to help me as the dead man's fingers close on my throat.

But we're in the Shadowlands now. I draw power from the Grey, and with my free hand grip his fingers and squeeze, his finger bones snapping like rotten branches until I'm able to get his hand off my neck and push him away. Then I stab him under the breastbone and into his heart.

Before, when I've been forced to kill a dead man in the Grey, the body would fall away and dissolve into a grey mist, which would then vanishe, even though the real corpse remained where it laid on Earth. But instead, this walking corpse crumbles into chunks of black ash which fall at my feet. Shite, don't gape at it; where's the other one? Movement to my right and I turn with the knife out.

The dead man holds up his hands. "Stop, please don't hurt me. My name's Ahmed, and I'm a butcher in Bukhara."

Shite, this can't be for real... can it? I mean, it must be, because Lys said the dead don't lie... unless she's the one lying. Wotan's bloody bones, just keep the knife ready. "Why did you attack me earlier?"

"Did I? I don't remember anything after the priests pulled me out of my cell and brought me to a terrible place with a stone altar covered in dried blood. They were chanting, and I remember growing colder and colder..." The broad face looks as if it's about to shed tears, even though I don't think it can. "Am I dead?"

Shite, what do I tell him? "Ah... yes, I'm afraid you are. The priests killed you somehow, then raised you back up to be a Revenant, whatever that is." I motion towards the woman's shadowy form on the other side of the writhing tendrils of Grey. "They commanded you to hurt Ishi."

"Ishi the mage?" I nod, and he shakes his head. "Ishi is a friend; I'd never do anything to hurt her, never." The dead man looks at his hands, then back at me. "What are you going to do with me?"

I haven't got the slightest idea. Think, idiot. "Alright, we're in the Shadowlands now, but if I bring you back to the real world without warning, the others will likely kill you... again. But if you get down on your knees and keep your hands on your thighs, they might not see you as a threat. Just don't move, alright?"

"I don't understand why, but if you want me to do this, I will do as you say." Dead Ahmed drops to his knees, places his palms on his thighs, and looks up at me. Shite, here goes nothing. I touch one of the tendrils and bring us back to the real world.

Color rushes back into the world as the fighters around me give a start. "Greywolf," Dancer says as he swings his spear towards the dead man's chest, "are you alright?"

The Nomads say in unison, "You were moving so fast, we were not sure."

"I'm fine, and the dead man says he's peaceful."

"Peaceful?" Amazonia gives me an incredulous look as she raises her sword over the dead man. "He tried to attack you."

"But he didn't," Fox says, moving out from behind Amazonia. "My eyes see into Twilight space better than any human's, and he never made any threatening gestures."

"I told him to stay down and so far he's obeying me. He told me his name's Ahmed, and that he's a butcher here... or was, at least."

"Ahmed the butcher?" Ishi walks carefully around the grey tree and stops behind me. She gasps, "It is him." Her eyes meet mine. "He used to sell me chicken meat before he was accused of withholding his tithes to the temple of Yun-Kax. You spoke to him?" I nod, and she gives me a puzzled look. "I don't understand how. He doesn't know Greco-Roma."

"Blame Lys," Karl says as he joins us. "The spell she cast in the Shadowlands lets you hear what the dead want to say, not the actual language, because in the Shadowlands they don't physically need to speak."

"But in the real world they have to." Karl nods, and I look at Ishi. "See if Ahmed will talk to you."

She shudders. "I just want you to know this is not what I expected tonight. Okay, I'll talk to him, but I want you between us with your sword out in case he gets mad, alright?"

The katana is near my feet, so I grab it by the hilt and stand over him as Ishi takes a spot behind me with her head out just enough to talk. She begins speaking in their language, and the dead man replies, though he speaks awkwardly, as if he's trying to remember how to talk. Karl's listening, and after a few moments, says, "Ahmed knows he's dead, but it doesn't seem to be bothering him." The warriors around me are easing up on their weapons since Ahmed is remaining on the floor, but still keeping them to hand as Karl snorts. "Ahmed just told her he wants to go home and be with his wife."

Troll barks out a laugh. "Oh, that will end well."

"Ishi's trying to talk him out of it." Ishi seems to be losing her fear of him, for she moves around me and puts her hands on her hips as she scolds him, but Ahmed's shaking his head as if telling her no. Karl grimaces. "I don't think he's going to listen to reason."

Ishi breaks off arguing to look at me. "Ahmed's more stubborn dead than he was alive. What do we do now?"

Shite, how would I know? Probably not a tactful thing to admit, though. "We can't let him leave, or it'll cause an uproar, but War-leader Kula's not going to want to leave someone here to guard him."

"I'm not sure he would stay put," Ishi admits.

I turn towards Karl. "You know Lys better than anyone. Should we drop this in her lap?"

"That's actually not a bad idea," Karl replies, scratching his chin. "If Ahmed had merely been raised, he would've dropped like a stone the minute his master died and remained there, which means he must be a Revenant."

"You know a lot about this business," Amazonia says.

"More than I'd like to. Anyway, I'm guessing Lys will want to see if she can gain control of him, or-"

"Get out of my way," Titan's deep voice rumbles behind us. Glancing over my shoulder, the Ogri's stalking towards us with his Greatsword in one hand and a face like a war god's full of fury. I pull Ishi back as the others scramble out of the way of Titan, who stops in front of the kneeling dead man and raises his sword.

Ishi pulls against my grip. "Stop," she squeals, fear and frustration wrestling for control of her voice. "Ahmed was a good man."

Titan puts both hands on the sword hilt as if an executioner. "It matters not whether he was a good man or bad. He is now an abomination." Ahmed looks up with a calm expression as Titan swings, the blade sighing before shearing through his neck and into his shoulder with a meaty thunk. Ahmed's body flops over as Titan pulls the sword out, the wound red but bloodless as he kicks the corpse onto its back, then drives the sword point through its heart. Bones crack, and a moment later the steel comes back dripping black blood.

Everyone including Prince Timur is keeping back except for Amazonia, who stalks up in front of him as Titan uses the dead man's tunic to wipe off his blade. "Why did you do that? Lys might have found a use for him."

Titan gives her a dark look. "In the beginning, I told you there were lines I would not cross." With the tip of his sword, he points at the still twitching body. "This is one of them. And you," Titan letting go of the sword with one hand before pointing the tip at my face, "should be killing the dead, not coddling them."

"Don't chastise the boy," Prince Timur growls. "I wanted to learn more of the arts Lys practices, and Greywolf's actions answered questions I didn't realize I had."

I blink. Prince Timur's defending me? Amazonia answers my questioning look with a knowing smile I don't understand as Titan turns towards the prince. "There are questions that should never be answered, and this is one of them. Necromancy is an evil I have fought against ever since the last Daemo prince taught humans how to bring the dead back to a state of unlife, and evil must be uprooted and destroyed wherever it is found."

"Evil? Let me tell you about evil." Titan lowers the tip of his sword to the floor and rests both hands on the hilt as Prince Timur strides over to glare up at the Ogri. "The world calls my people evil because we exist, because we live as our fathers lived, and their fathers before them. Because we are free."

"They call you evil because you slaughter their men and enslave their women and children, taking with you everything not nailed down."

Amazonia joins the prince as do her men, along with the two other Bloodguards as Prince Timur smiles. "You're wrong. If something is nailed down, we find a way to pull out the nails and take the valuable item with us." The two Tartaros warriors chuckle as the prince becomes stern once more. "We also honor the promises we make, unlike the so-called 'civilized' empires, that break their word of honor before the ink's even dry on their treaties. Only when we are betrayed do we go against our promises to punish the oath-breakers."

"Your father feels differently."

"My father is becoming a doddering old fool. The only way we can exist alongside the Sasnayams is to bend our necks and let them place a slave yoke around it, and I will never let my people suffer such a degradation. I will see the People of the Eternal Sky destroyed down to the smallest child first."

"Then it is a good thing that Avitohol is the heir and not you." Titan leans over Prince Timur. "Because if you were khan and you led your people down this dark path, I would have to become your enemy. You would not enjoy having me as your enemy."

"Bells of Hades," Amazonia snaps as she joins the prince, "why should raising a dead man to fight be any more evil than anything else men do to themselves, or to women? Slaves tortured when they wouldn't submit, rape, children sold to the brothels."

"Children burned alive by the priests of Ba'al," Dancer adds in a quiet voice.

"Poor Wysper having her abnormal mana node cut out of her body while the crowd watches," Ishi says, "which used to be the hearts of those girls whose mana nodes were not quite strong enough to let them cast spells, yet strong enough to catch the priest's attention when the girls were tested."

"Wysper's hands," I chime in.

Titan raises his own hand to stop us from going on. "I hear what each of you is telling me, and if it were only having undead warriors fighting for a good reason, I would command my morals to be silent and carry on. However, it would not stop there. Dancer, you spoke of Ba'al, who was a Celestial of Carthago. Have you ever heard of the abominations he created, called Shadowmen?"

"Shadowmen are a legend of doomed Carthago" The rest of us except Titan and Dancer give Amazonia a questioning look, and she says, "Before I was captured by the Etruscans and made a slave, I fought for the Mauri people in the Javelin Corps, and listened to the stories the old warriors told. They said in the days when Ba'al still walked the earth, his most feared servants were the Shadowmen, tough warriors as pale as death, with red eyes and a hunger for human flesh."

"I've heard that legend as well," Dancer says. "If you cut them, not only did they not bleed, but if you chopped off their hand, they could sew it back on and keep using it. They drank human blood as if it were wine."

"To them it is wine," Titan rumbles, "and they do bleed if you give them a mortal wound."

"Like the one you gave Ahmed," I say to him.

Titan looks at me. "Just like the one I gave Ahmed. A Revenant is a minor Lich, and all of them have at their core a substance the color of thick, black blood. Should a mortal man drink this Lich blood as a certain spell is being cast, a transformation begins, and if he survives the transformation, he becomes a Shadowman. They feel no pain, only pleasure, are extremely tough to kill without using Artifact weapons, and never age another day. They also cannot heal their wounds, and must sew or bolt together any torn flesh to keep it from continuing to tear."

"What about sewing the hand back on?" Dancer asks.

"That part at least is a lie. If you cut off their hand, it shrivels and turns black." He looks at Prince Timur. "What makes them dangerous is that once a necromancer creates one, she does not control it. When Ba'al created the first Shadowmen, they ignored his orders and began creating Shadowmen of their own just by mixing a little of their black blood in wine and having ordinary men drink it. Those men became Shadowmen absolutely loyal to the one whose blood created them."

Prince Timur asks, "What did Ba'al do?"

"Killed them all when he discovered what they were doing. Then turned himself into a Shadowman, using the Necromantic principles he had learned, and in turn his captains, who recruited Shadowmen of their own on Ba'al's orders. Prince Timur, do you know why the priests of the Ba'al cult, that still believe he is a god who shall someday return, burn children alive?" The prince shakes his head. "Because Ba'al liked them as fresh as possible before being roasted. His cultists believe that, if they can only find the perfect child to burn, Ba'al will come back and reward them all by turning them into Shadowmen themselves, before launching a new crusade to enslave the known world. To Shadowmen, all living people are cattle to be used for food and pleasure"

"By the sacred bones of our ancestors," Prince Timur says, "that's horrible."

Titan nods once. "Now do you understand why I am opposed to this practice?" Titan's eye catches mine. "Greywolf, Ishi, we have wasted too much time. Come with me so the next part of our plan can get started."

Ishi falls in with me and we follow Titan as he heads for the passage beyond the chamber. Behind us, Prince Timur calls out, "Titan, if I became the Great Khan in place of my father, there would be no reason to oppose me, because I would never go down the same path Ba'al did."

Titan slows as he glances over his shoulder. "Even Ba'al believed that, in the beginning."