Greywolf - The High Priest's House

Ishi the mage and fifty men wearing black robes march me across the plaza towards a two story building made of the same white stone as the bridge, with wooden shutters over the second story windows. Brass lamps burning blue witch-fire are set above both the door in front of the building, and the door to the left side, giving the place an unearthly glow.

The plaza's empty of everyone except us and the other fifty warriors led by Titan, all wearing black and already in place just outside the front door, hidden by the darkness. They watch us pass by in silence, waiting for Kula's signal to attack. All the warriors, including the handful of Xian mercenaries near the front of our group, are holding their weapons under their flowing robes, their cowls hiding heads protected by round helms or chainmail hoods. The darkness of the night hides the bloodstains.

Beyond the walls of the Temple District, the city's ablaze with light as if it's on fire, with happy, drunken voices shouting or singing raucous songs in their language. I can't help but sigh. If I hadn't been so stupid and made Muzen aware of me, I might be out there with them right now, dancing with Ishi and drinking wine, instead of being clutched by a dozen or more hands as if I'm a prisoner.

Water past the bridge, now. Focus on what's in front of you. The front door is shut tight, but the side door's open, with a couple grizzled soldiers lighting their pipes off a burning taper the guard with an eyepatch over one eye holds. Unlike the temple guards in their bronze armor, who died in the room where Yrg had been knocked out by Lys, these guards wear chainmail down to their mid-thighs and down their arms. No helms or chainmail hoods, though, and their scimitars are sheathed in leather carried at their sides. The cold wind at our backs blows the smoke away from us.

We're close enough that they'll notice us any moment, and Kula softly growls, "Now."

Ishi calls out, "Peace be unto this house and all who dwell here."

Between one heart's beat and the next, the bearded guards go from relaxed to alert. "Who approaches?"

"Farid," Ishi says as the group reaches the edge of the blue lamplight and stops, "you know me."

The guard with both eyes gives a start. "Ishi? Why are you here and not back at home, doing my laundry?"

Ishi sets her hands on her hips. "Well, excuse me for intruding. I'll just let the Shadow-walker Greywolf escape into the night and get right on it."

The guard with the eyepatch points at me. "Farid, you fool, that's him. That's the young man his holiness wants."

Farid squints... is he nearsighted? "Ali, are you sure?"

The guard Ali gives him a withering look. "How many Celts with silvery-grey hair are running around Bukhara? Hey, Fat-boy," he calls back into the kitchen, "tell his holiness the Shadow-walker he wants has been captured."

From inside, a deep voice rumbles, "Wonderful, now even the guards are calling me that." An enormous man with an equally enormous gut pokes his head out of the doorway. I give him my best glare and he blinks, his eyes going wide before turning around and vanishing inside, shouting in their language as he goes.

As his voice recedes, Farid winces. "I suppose this means I'm not getting my laundry tomorrow." Ishi begins scolding him in their language and one-eyed Ali laughs, a couple other bearded guardsmen joining them as the sound of a bolt being drawn back above us makes me look up. The wooden shutters are thrown back, releasing the upper room's golden light out into the darkness as a figure's upper body appears at the window.

My heart begins hammering faster than Wotan's Dwarven blacksmiths as Muzen the High Priest looks down at me, smiling like the cat with a mouse under his paw. "I must say, this is a surprise."

I struggle against the rough hands holding me, being careful not to knock anyone's weapon loose. "What have you done with Wysper," I yell up at him. "If you've hurt her, I swear I'll kill you."

Muzen raises one painted on eyebrow before glancing over his shoulder. "Zanzabel, bring her to the window."

He steps back, and a few moments later the upper body of an African woman appears holding the bare shoulders of a girl with blood red hair and two golden bangs. I yell, "Wysper!" Oh shite, what if I'm too late and they've already taken her hands?

No, I can see them gripping the windowsill as she looks down and opens her mouth. "Woof!"

I blink. Woof? The African woman calls out, "Greywolf, his holiness scrambled her mind when he went through her memories. It is going to take some time for her to speak normally again."

Muzen's hands grasp their shoulders, drawing them back, and a moment later he reappears. "Son of Asena, you were almost too late to save her poor hands from being delivered to you in a sack, as I would have done had her memories had not uncovered a plot against me. So, who gets my gratitude for bringing Greywolf to my door?"

"I lured him here, your holiness." She bows. "Minor mage Ishi of Bukhara. I do laundry for the inn where the mercenaries stay, and was standing in the next room when your holiness confronted Asena."

Muzen raises a painted eyebrow. "Interesting. Do you do laundry for the temple of Ghash-Kimil as well?"

"I created a manikin that washes clothes, your holiness, so I never have to touch them myself."

"Ah, that would make sense. However, I am surprised the head priest did not come to me and let me know of this subterfuge."

Ishi makes an apologetic gesture with her hands. "Your holiness, I begged him to keep this secret between us. I was once an acolyte for another temple, and I left in disgust over all the intrigues and petty bickering between the temples. I was worried that someone would find out and try to take Greywolf, or warn him off."

"Before sunset, I would have thought the idea foolish. I assume the head priest is with Yrg and my senior acolyte?"

Ishi hesitates. "I was told he had a prior engagement, your holiness. There was screaming-"

Muzen holds up his hand and she stops speaking. "Good. How did you lure Greywolf to the temple?"

"It was the head priest's idea, your holiness. He had me tell Greywolf that Wysper's hands would be removed inside the temple as part of their ceremonies, using their stone knives. When Greywolf appeared next to the grey tree, we crept together into another chamber where the priests pounced on him before he could fight back or escape."

Muzen smiles again. "Clever. What about Asena?"

I make myself scowl as hard as I can at Ishi, who laughs. "Dead drunk from the drugged wine I sent her."

I pretend to fight against the hands holding onto me. "Conniving dog-bitch, when she wakes up, she's going to come and find you."

"Your holiness, that is a concern I would like to discuss with you. I've always wanted to see Tesiphon."

The High Priest opens his arms like a loving father. "The temple of Yun-Kax always has a place for a loyal priestess with ambition. Remain there, and I will come down to take charge of our young wolf... and to discuss your future, as well."

I mock struggle again as the shutters close without being bolted, the guards knocking out the dried leaf in their pipes onto the paving stones as several other guards walk outside as well. Ishi moves up close to them where she can see into the doorway, chattering away to them in their language as the Xian mercenaries drift into position at the front. She says something that makes all the guardsmen laugh. From inside the building, a voice barks out a command, and their laughter stops as all the guards step back and go rigid. Ishi takes a deep breath as I hold mine...

Then she drops to the paving stones and curls up into a ball. Kula shouts, "Open fire," and it feels as if time slows down as they flip back their robes, level their boxy Artifact crossbow devices, and begin cranking the trigger levers. Bolts buzz like angry hornets as the devices spit out one bolt after another at the guards. Hands let me go, and as I form a gateway and step through, men are beginning to scream in pain.

I drop to one knee inside Ishi's shadowy form, bending forward as I awkwardly pull out the katana from the sheathe strapped to my back where it had remained hidden. Crouched inside her, both to hide from Shadow creatures and to deter them from attacking until I'm prepared, I listen for any sounds. There's only silence. I rise with the sword up and do my complete circle, scanning both rooftops and the spaces between the shadowy figures of wounded or dying guardsmen and the warriors flinging off their robes as their shadowy forms creep forward in their charge.

Nothing is moving... wait, the outline of a Shadow cat's walking along the top of a pyramid not far away. Quick, get inside before it spots you. I move through the flying bolts and falling guardsmen into the kitchen, where more shadowy forms are lunging towards the doorway, seeming to claw at the scimitars hanging from the sheathes at their belts. To the left is a hearth where a small, matronly woman and a couple of younger ones are cringing away, while the next doorway ahead leads to a long room with more guards beginning to run this way. I move through the guards rushing at a snail's pace...

And almost run into Muzen. Shite! My heart's in my throat, but that's stupid. He won't know you're here unless you touch him. His shadow's face is beginning to snarl in rage, his magic, the only source of any color in the Shadowlands, sparking deep red and gold within him, and the lines of power extending from his core to his hands changing to blue as he begins the casting of a spell. This is fascinating. I've never seen a Celestial in the middle of casting a spell, but much as I'd like to watch it develop, I need to keep moving. Time may be creeping forward, but it's still moving.

Easing around Muzen, I stride for the next room where the main door is. The four guardsmen in the room seem to be yelling, one pointing at the door with his scimitar as it bulges inward. Bolts seem to be popping off the hinges as well, as if it just got hit by an eight foot tall Ogri who swore there hasn't been a door built yet that can withstand him. Alright, the warriors have this in hand; leave the battle and find the stairs.

There, straight back and on the right hand side, stone stairs leading up. I start up them, my katana in my left hand as I reach the landing and start up the next set that double back. I reach the top step and with my right hand on the stone wall, place my foot on the upper floor.

It sinks through. Shite, I was afraid of this. Since it's made of wood, I'll have to bring myself closer to the real world so I can walk along it, but that's going to leave me more vulnerable to any Shadow creature I encounter. Can't be helped if I want to get Wysper out of the mess I got her into. There, the world's a touch less grey, and the hallway floor is taking my weight. Now, which way? To the left, the fat man I saw earlier seems to be pounding on a wooden door with the pommel of a large scimitar. Shite, that isn't good.

Alright, I need to time this or I'll end up downstairs and have to do it all over again. I run down the hall towards the large man and leap for the door as I bring the Grey closer... a flash of shadow... quick, push away the Grey, the floor's coming up fast... my sandals silently slap the wood planks and slide along them to a stop. Okay, you did it right this time. I look down at my feet and my eyes go wide.

The shadow of a man who seems the twin of the one pounding on the door is laying sprawled out on the floor with his throat cut. There's a dark stain around him that's got to be blood, his large scimitar on the floor beside his hand. I look up at the rest of the room.

To the right is a low table with scattered cushions and a puddle of cloth... a dress, maybe? Farther beyond is a cold hearth with statues on the mantel, with three people standing nearby. Closest to me is a man with his back to me. His hair's in a braid, and as I walk around him, his face has the features of a Tartaros warrior. He's holding a long knife in one hand.

In front of him are the African woman and Wysper... Wotan's blood, she's nude. This isn't making sense, but I can't stop staring at her willowy form... she's so beautiful, like something out of a dream...

Idiot! Stop staring at her body and look at her face. She's terrified, and so is the African woman. I spin around to face the man. Shite, he's got a grim, determined look on his face as if he wants to kill them both. This really isn't making sense.

It doesn't matter. He's slowly closing the gap, but there's still enough room for me to appear between them and shove the point of my katana against his throat if I have to...

Oh shite, something is growling behind me.