Wysper - The Shadow Knight

As the grey faced warrior stalks towards Greywolf, I put myself in front of her with my arms out. "No!"

The others seem frozen in shock as she stops a few paces away and points her Greatsword at my face. "Princess of the bloody crown," she snarls, "move aside. The Shadow-walker you protect is a monster, and all monsters must die."

In response, I drop to the floor in front of Greywolf to shield him with my body. He grasps my shoulders and feebly tries to push me away. "Wysper, don't do this. Save yourself."

The warrior, whose face is grey skin over the bones of her skull, raises her sword as I grab Greywolf's hands and pull him tight against my body. He yelps in pain as I look up at her. "I am not... afraid to die... with him." She cocks her sword back to strike.

"Amazonia, hold." The warrior keeps her Greatsword where it is and turns her head as the Shadow Fae Lys leaps off the German's shoulder and stares up at her. "Lower your sword."

The warrior's savage expression becomes uncertain. "But the Shadow-walker-"

"Is a friend to both of us. Lower your sword." She reverses the sword so it's point down and lowers it until the tip rests on the wooden floor. "Now," the Shadow Fae continues, "kneel down so I do not have to strain my neck looking up at you." The warrior's expression slides into confusion, but she lets go of the sword with one hand before dropping down to one knee, her other arm stretched all the way upward as she holds onto the hilt.

The Ogri and the craggy faced warrior Kula burst into the room, but the German waves them off from coming any closer as Amazonia shakes her head. "I know Greywolf, and I know I have no reason to kill him, yet at the same time I see him as a man-like white wolf that must be destroyed. Lys," a note of desperation entering Amazonia's voice, "everything has gotten strange. I'm not myself anymore."

"No shite," Greywolf says in my ear. For some reason Amazonia finds this humorous, and starts laughing in a high pitched cackle that sends shivers running up my spine. "Wotan's blood," he breathes, "she sounds like a Shadow creature called a Night Hag."

I have no idea what that is and do not wish to find out. Lys reaches up and places the palm of one hand on Amazonia's forehead. "This is new for all of us, but I feel like this is the right thing to do. Relax, and see if this helps."

"It does," Amazonia replies, her grey face growing calm. "I feel more myself now, more in control." Her expression turns sharp as her grip tightens on the hilt of her Greatsword. "But I warn you, I won't become your slave."

Lys removes her hand from Amazonia's forehead. "After what I suffered at the hands of the Etruscans, I hate slavery just as much as you do. So, not only do you have my word that I will never make you suffer that fate, but I will never ask you to become a Shadow Knight again, unless the Khan I serve commands it. Then neither one of us will have a choice."

"I understand." Amazonia takes a deep breath. "When I've returned to normal, I'll speak to Greywolf, but right now I need to return to my Necromantic legion and prepare them."

"Go ahead, and remember to follow whatever orders Prince Timur gives you."

"Yes, Lys." Amazonia rises to her feet, her strange grey body under her armor moving with inhuman grace as she rests her sword on her shoulder and turns towards the doorway.

"Az," the German says, and she stops to look a him as he points back at me. "Why did you call Wysper the 'Princess of the bloody crown'?"

Amazonia gives him a puzzled look. "Because the crown of blood red leaves she wears at her brow makes her look like a princess. Why else?" Without waiting for an answer, she resumes striding for the doorway, the Ogri and the craggy faced warrior moving to let her go past. She heads for the doorway and the stairs leading down.

The Ogri steps back into the hall while Kula remains where he stands. "Lys, now that we have all three priestesses, and the two dragon scales used in the ritual, can we recreate it to make more blood corn?"

"Why not ask the expert?" The Shadow Fae looks at me. "Do you know the secret?"

I shake my head. "Only the High-" No, not the High Priest. Never again will I call him that. "Only Muzen knows."

Kula frowns. "That's too bad. I can't risk him sending another Shadow-walker after you and the dragon scales, so I'll give you an easy death and be done with it."

"No!" Greywolf pulls me close, his lean body pressing against mine and his face twisted in pain as he snarls, "I'm not letting you or anyone else hurt her."

"You do not have to." Zanzabel moves beside us as she motions with her hand. "Muzen told me Wysper's fertility magic will end if she ever loses her virginity, and can never be restored."

"Is this true?" I nod at Kula, who shrugs. "Alright, then instead of taking your life, you will taken as a bed-slave and given to whoever the Great Khan decides should have you."

"I have a better idea," a boy's voice calls out. The boy standing beside the German takes off the full faced Greek helm he wears and holds it in his arms as he turns towards Kula.

Everyone else in the room except for myself and Zanzabel let out a gasp. "Prince Avitohol," Kula says, "what are you doing here? Where's your blood brother Tamachi?"

Prince Avitohol has the face of someone from the Tartaros steppes, with black hair and broad shoulders. "We switched places at the last moment. War-leader Kula, Yasataar told me that, according to tradition, once I've gone on my first raid and proven myself, I'm allowed to set up my own household and adopt those I want into my family."

"That's true, my prince, but-"

"Then as soon as we get back, I will do so, and adopt-" He stops and looks back at me. "Your name's Wysper, right?" I nod, and he looks forward again. "I will adopt Wysper as my daughter." He looks back at me again. "Is that acceptable to you? Or would you rather be a bed-slave?"

You are gaping at him. Close your mouth. "I... no, my prince... not a bed-slave. But, I am older... how..."

He waves his hand as if he is throwing something away. "Yasataar told me age doesn't matter, only your status among the People. So, once you're my daughter, Greywolf will betroth you and become the first of my Bloodguard, which will bind him to me as Yasataar told me needs to happen." He frowns and places his hands on his hips. "Greywolf, if you don't agree to this I'm not adopting her."

The German says, "If you do, Asena's likely to dump you into the river."

Greywolf sighs. "After she's bounced me off the walls a few times. But I don't care." He rests his chin on my shoulder. "Prince Avitohol, I give you my word of honor that, if you adopt Wysper, I'll bind myself to both of you."

What? Why would he do that? None of this is making any sense. "There's only one slight problem," Kula growls. "I'm not risking the life of the heir to the Great Khan without a good reason, and this girl's fate isn't one of them."

"What if the young prince was not risking his life?" Lys says. "What if any injury he suffered could not be fatal?"

"Speak plainly, witch."

Lys gives Kula a cool look, which I remember well from Yrg, who is watching us impassively to one side. "Prince Avitohol, everyone knows my ability to brew potions, correct?" He nods, and Lys says, "There is one I keep with me, whenever I have to travel through the Shadowlands, that will speed up my natural regeneration and keep me from dying should a Shadow creature injure me badly, as well as boosting my strength and stamina. In me, the effects are temporary, but in the humans I have made it for in the past, the effects are permanent. Since it seems we shall not be traveling through the Shadowlands going back, I would be willing to give it to you."

Prince Avitohol perks up. "Would it have the same effects?"

Lys nods. "The regeneration would take effect immediately, giving your body the ability to seal wounds almost as soon as you get them, though true healing still takes time. Later effects would be an increase in strength and stamina beyond that of a normal human's. However, I must warn you," Lys raising her hand, palm out, "that there is also a negative effect. Your growth will be stunted, leaving you forever short."

Prince Avitohol shrugs his broad shoulders. "I'm already short."

"My prince," Kula says, "I don't think this is a wise idea."

"I don't care if you think it's a wise idea or not," Prince Avitohol retorts, folding his arms across his armored chest. "If Lys is offering this potion, I'm going to take it. Kula, if the Great Khan dies tomorrow, do you really think my older brother's going to allow me to take father's place?" Kula opens his mouth as if to argue.

But then closes it once more as Lys says, "Your father will live to a ripe old age if I have anything to do about it. However, drinking this potion will make it seem as if you are growing up fast, and the older and more powerful you seem, the more likely the warriors are to accept you as the Khan of khans." She turns towards Kula. "Am I wrong?"

The craggy faced warrior grimaces. "I still think it's a bad idea."

"If father asks," the prince says, "I'll tell him you did your best to warn me. But if I do drink it, you won't have any good reason to stop me from participating, will you?" Kula's scowl deepens, and Prince Avitohol turns to Lys with a smirk on his face. "I will gladly take your potion."

"As you wish, my prince." Lys' face remains neutral, but I can hear the same smirk in her voice Yrg used to have when she had done something clever that no one else realized. Should I tell someone? And if I did, would anyone believe me? Lys reaches into a hidden pocket underneath her armor, and pulls out a small metal vial with a stopper in its neck, which she removes and hands to the prince.

He drinks the potion down in one gulp. "Yuck," he says as he makes a face, "that tastes terrible."

"Apologies," she replies as he hands the vial back. She stoppers it up and puts it back in its hidden pocket. "The taste will go away soon, and after that will come a feeling of power and strength. Do not do anything rash but stay close to the War-leader and follow his orders."

Prince Avitohol puffs out his chest. "I am the heir of the Great Khan."

"You're also a boy," Kula growls, "and you'll remain next to me the entire time we're attacking or I'll keep you here with Greywolf. Am I making myself clear?" The prince's expression remains defiant, and he adds, "You'll get more than your share of fighting once we've found you a weapon."

"Oh, that's easy." Prince Avitohol races over to Redhunter's body with the Artifact battle-axe sticking out, puts one foot on his torso, both hands on the shaft, and pulls. The weapon makes a sucking sound coming out. "This is perfect."

The ghost of a smile touches the craggy warrior's lips. "Of course it is. Alright, I'll assign guards to protect the two women and Greywolf; the rest of you are with me."

"Guards are not needed," the Ogri says in a rumbling voice. "I will remain behind and take care of Greywolf."

Kula turns around. "Titan, what're you talking about? I need you on the battlefield."

The Ogri's scarred face looks sad as he shakes his head. "Once the Bukharan's realize exactly what they are facing, the battle shall quickly become a rout. You may get resistance from the other temples, since they will likely employ manakins against you, and the soldiers of the Royal Governor will have the backbone the others soldiers lack, but I expect you shall prevail." He shrugs. "Regardless, I shall not participate. I do not fight alongside the dead."

"I"m not looking forward to it either, but doing so will make real the dream of the Great Khan, as well as give us vengeance against the Sasnayams."

"I understand. Once we are back in the encampment, I will honor my pledge and train your young prince alongside Greywolf, but for now I will remain and keep these three safe."

"Put us in Muzen's bedroom," Zanzabel says quickly. "There is a bed we can put Greywolf on to rest."

Kula nods. "We can put the servants we spared there as well." My heart leaps inside me, hoping that Pigeon is one of them, as he says, "Titan can carry him there easily."

"I can walk there," Greywolf says as the others begin to leave. I turn my head to look at him, raising my eyebrows, and he mutters, "Well, crawl anyway."

Being careful not to jostle his arm, I shift myself around so his back rests against my front. "Lean against me," I tell him as the others move towards the open door. "I have you."

Greywolf sighs, and rests his head against my shoulder. "I love your eyes," he says in a quiet voice. "They remind me of the forests I grew up around in Germania, when papa was still with us. I could curl up and go to sleep inside those eyes."

He closes his own as Prince Avitohol reaches the doorway. "Kula, I know what my warrior name's going to be, since I will become Wysper's parent and will never grow tall. I want to be known as Little Father."

Kula nods. "A good choice. Once the Great Khan recognizes that you've proven yourself as a warrior, from then on you will be known as Attila."