Greywolf - The Master of Bukhara

"Wotan's blood, I never expected him to banish his son."

The moment after the Great Khan announced he was shaking the dust of Bukhara from his feet, he'd stormed off through the tent flap behind the throne, leaving the place in an uproar. Now, still standing inside the tent while everyone around us argues with each other, Titan places his large hand on my shoulder. "I am afraid it was inevitable," he rumbles as the women, except for Wysper who's beside me, leave through the front. Titan watches them go before looking back down. "Wysper, are you alright?"

She nods, though I think she's lying a little because she's still trembling. "It was just so strange, like dreaming while awake... until I was not." She takes a deep breath and the trembling eases. "So what do we do now"

"All of you will leave with me," Prince Varsena says as he strides up and halts in front of us. "Titan is one of us now, and Greywolf has guest-right, which I am now extending to you." He looks Wysper up and down with a frown. "Your clothes are fine for Bukhara, but I need to find you something warmer and less revealing. Most of my people are conservative in their thinking, and tend to make snap judgments based on how a woman is dressed."

Then he smiles. "However, one of the merchants who came with Porthos owns a clothing shop on this side of the river, and I feel certain would not mind making a bit of silver. Come with me." We follow Prince Varsena as he walks towards the tent flap everyone's now leaving out of, as he looks over his shoulder at Wysper. "On the way back to the encampment, we can talk about dream-walking and how it is done."

Wysper perks up. "Can you teach me how to do it?"

He hesitates as we join the crowd. "I can, but the Keeper of the Spirits is really the one who should instruct you, if she decides to take you on. She understands dream-walking better than anyone."

Titan rumbles, "I thought dream-walking died out in humans a long time ago."

"The Keeper tells us the ability is buried deep within all humans, with only those able to generate mana," Prince Varsena touching his dark blue hair, "like myself or Wysper, able to bring it to life and control it. And even then it has to have a dream-walker awaken the ability before it can be used."

"As Yrg did by giving me nightmares," Wysper says.

"Exactly. Judging on how easily the spirit was able to assume control, I would say you have a strong ability that the Keeper will be able to teach you to use... well, if she wants to, of course. Dream-walking is normally not taught to outsiders."

We go through the tent flap into the crisp air. The smell of brick dust is still present, but the blood spilled last night gives it a coppery tang, and the river has its own watery scent as well. People are gathering in groups near the buildings, with Prince Timur, Az, and the two Bloodguards standing on the near end of the bridge, talking to several nobles and some Tartaros warriors who are all nodding as Timur speaks. Standing close to them is Porthos, who's is being yelled at by the men he came here with, several of them waving their arms around while Porthos makes calming gestures with his. We follow Prince Varsena as he strides towards the group. "Merchant Balthazar, apologies for interrupting, but might I speak with you"

Porthos and the men around him stop and look at us as an old, white bearded man in fancy clothing hurries over. "Prince Varsena, will you please join us and talk some sense into Porthos? He claims he is going to be our king."

"Petty-king," Porthos counters, "more like a governor than actual nobility. While this was not my idea, I feel that-"

"Men of Bukhara," Timur calls out, "There is no need to argue, because I have the solution to your problems. Will all of you come join me here so I do not violate the terms of my banishment?" The nobles and Tartaros warriors move away to watch as the rest of us walk closer to the bridge, Timur waiting until everyone's close before speaking again. "Since my father has seen fit to banish me to Bukhara, I have decided that, by right of conquest, the city now belongs to me."

Oh, shite. The men around Porthos gasp as he says, "But your highness, the Great Khan told us-"

"Whatever he told you before my banishment no longer holds true. But have no fear," Timur smiling as he opens his arms like papa once did for me, "for I plan to make you my chief counselor, and the good men around you my advisers. The taxes that the Sasnayams imposed on Bukhara are hereby abolished, and you may practice the religion of your ancestors to your heart's content." His arms move inward to gesture at himself. "You will find me no tyrant but a simple warrior who is content to let wiser men run Bukhara's affairs." His smile vanishes as his face becomes a stern mask. "But starting tomorrow, Bukhara's army must begin rebuilding, and its walls restored."

Porthos' shock slides into a sly smile. "I sense a change in Bukhara's fortunes for the better. Yet, a burning question remains: what shall be done with the blood corn?"

Timur gives him back a smile the mirror of Porthos' own. "Again, by right of conquest, all of the blood corn belongs to me, and will be given freely to all those pledging loyalty to my cause."

Prince Varsena's light brown face is growing darker as he strides forward. "Do you realize you are talking treason against the Great Khan?"

Timur continues smiling as he strokes his beard. "Treason? I would be careful bandying that word about, younger brother, for you are only safe for as long as our father is alive. And he is an old, weak, shield to hide behind."

Titan places a hand on Wysper's and my shoulders as we halt behind Prince Varsena, who snarls, "In the name of Tengri, come to your senses, or Kula will come here with an army and burn you out."

"He is welcome to try," the smile leaving Timur's face as he motions first left, and then right. "There is no place to cross this river in either direction for many, many, leagues, which means his army will have to attack Bukhara over this bridge. True, the gatehouse and walls have been neglected, but by the time his army is assembled, the gatehouse and the walls to either side will have been rebuilt."

Prince Varsena throws up his hands. "The Great Khan was right; you have gone mad. Since most of Bukhara's army was slain last night, who is going to man the walls? Old men and women?"

Timur smiles like the Warghorse pressing down with his paw on a rabbit. "I have an army in the black temple right now, waiting to be called upon the moment I need them."

The color drains away from Prince Varsena's face. "You would dare use your legion of the dead against our people?"

Timur stalks forward a few paces, his face a hands breath from his brother's. "I am not the one who will be doing the attacking, and as for the people..." Timur moves away and strokes his beard. "Varsena, you had best hope the Khan of khans lives until a ripe old age. Because if he dies before moving the People away in the spring, I will ride in and claim his throne."

"The Great Khan's will is for the throne to go to Avitohol."

"His will only means anything for as long as he is alive. After he dies, the Tartaros warriors will flock to my banner, because only I can lead them to glory and the plundering of the Sasnayam cities."

Prince Varsena shakes his head. "The nobles-"

"Will follow where the warriors lead, for without them the nobles are undone, and they know it." Timur pokes his brother in the chest as if goading him. "On the day I take command of the People, you will swear me an oath of loyalty on Az's Rune sword or I will take your head. And as for you," Timur's eyes meeting mine as a cold smile touches his lips, "I will have the Xian mercenaries fill you full of crossbow bolts, then make you watch as I turn your scrawny priestess into my bed-slave."

Only Titan's hand grasping my shoulder keeps me from challenging him as Az, standing next to him, shakes her head. "My prince, let the two of them be."

Timur's eyes widen as a startled expression sweeps his face, and he turns towards her. "What did you just say?"

"To let them be. Prince Timur, I never want to become a Shadow Knight ever again, but no matter how hard I fight it, becoming one seems to be my fate." Sadness touches her face a moment as she sighs, but then the sardonic mask returns. "So be it. I'll embrace my fate, swearing an oath on my sword to become your Shadow Knight whenever, and wherever you need me, but in return I want a Rune sword oath from you not to harm or degrade either one of them, and let them be free, unless one of them attacks you first."

Timur gives her an exasperated look. "Why? I cannot for the life of me understand why their fates should matter to you."

"Because in return for your oath, Greywolf's going to swear me one as well." Az draws the grey bladed sword from its sheathe. "Cermet told me that, as a Shadow Knight, I'd be stronger and faster than I'd ever been, yet also more fragile, and that when I die, I'll dissolve into a mist that will be sucked into the Shadowlands, much as the Daemo are when they're pulled down into the Underworld." She points the tip of the sword at my chest. "If that happens, you are going to come find me and bring me back to the real world."

She can't be serious. "Az, I won't know you're dead, let alone know where to look for you in the Shadowlands."

Az holds up her Rune sword. "Use this to track me. And since you're going to become Avitohol's Bloodguard, my Wardogs should have no trouble tracking you down."

Sitting on Karl's shoulder, Lys shakes her head. "Things are too uncertain right now to assume that. Prince Varsena, can you enchant two amulets so that either amulet can find the other?"

"I can," he replies in a wary voice, "but magic does not work in the Shadowlands."

"Lady Jhadra told me the Rune sword will know where I am no matter where I go," Az says, "and Fox can use the amulet like a lodestone in our world to find Greywolf should... things change."

"Then I agree to craft two linked amulets," Prince Varsena says as he looks towards his brother, "but only if he adds my name to his sword oath. Elder brother, I will never swear fealty to you, even if the People of the Eternal Sky elect you Khan of khans by their own free will. I would rather walk into the teeth of a howling snowstorm than press my forehead to your hand, let alone swear you an oath on a grey, rune covered blade. Avitohol feels the same."

"Unlike you," Timur sneers, "Avitohol has earned my respect and has nothing to fear." He looks at Az. "Should something happen, entrusting your return to this boy is a bad idea. If the Rune sword can find you, your Daemo Shadow-walker can lead your Wardogs into the Shadowlands-"

"Where they'll get torn apart by the first Shadow creature they meet." Timur whirls around to glare at me, but I glare right back. "The Shadowlands are my country, and unless Fox has been hiding her sword skills, I'm your only hope for getting Az back."

Timur spits on the paving stones near my feet. "I do not trust you."

"The Rune sword won't give any of us a choice." Az looks at me. "You swear your oath first, Prince Timur will swear his next, and I will swear mine last. Then the Rune sword will bind us to our oaths. Alright?"

I nod. "I'm only doing this for you, not for him."

"And I am only swearing this oath because of the great debt I owe to my Reaver Knight, a debt I can never fully repay." Timur glances at his brother. "It comes to me that banishing you will be justice served cold, yet justice nonetheless. But mark my words," Timur's expression hardening, "that when my time to rule has arrived, the only person of the People you will be permitted to take with you shall be Avitohol. No one else. There will be no provisions given, no aid rendered, and no one will be allowed to shelter you on pain of death." His smile's cold as a troll's heart. "You will be on your own."

"So will you," Prince Varsena replies. "The People will fear you and shout your name, but there will be no one you can trust." He sadly shakes his head. "You may earn their respect and their acclaim, but you will never be loved as our father is."

"I can live with that," Timur looking at me with a sneer. "Shall we see what kind of a weasel-mouthed oath the boy shall swear?"

I grit my teeth as Az holds out the sword with the blade straight across, and I place my palm over several runes. "I swear that, if I learn Az is trapped in the Grey, I will leave immediately, track her down with this sword, and bring her back to the real world, or die trying." The runes on the blade glow red a moment, sealing the oath, and I snatch my hand away. "There, satisfied?"

To my surprise, he raises his eyebrows as he places his hand on the blade. "I am impressed. For my part, I swear that, if I am made Khan of khans by the People of the Eternal Sky, I shall spare the lives of my brothers Avitohol and Varsena, Titan the Ogri, the girl Wysper... and the little child known as Greywolf."

The runes glow red and he takes his hand away as Az places hers where his palm had been. "For my part, I shall never balk at becoming a Shadow Knight ever again, even if it means being consigned to Hades' darkest realm, and will destroy any enemy of Prince Timur's that he desires... except for the people he swore to spare." Timur gives her a sharp look as she regards him. "Neither I, or my Chaldeans, will lift a hand against them without provocation, until the sword shatters and all oaths shatter as well. This I do swear."

The runes glow even brighter than before, then fade as she takes her hand from her blade and sheathes the sword. "That was fun," Lys says, drumming her heels against Karl's chest armor. "Now what?"

"Now, I want my armor and sword back," I tell her.

"Not without my consent," Timur says. "None of you are allowed to enter Bukhara, even to retrieve personal items, until I decide otherwise." His smile slides into a smirk. "I am sure you can find replacements."

Prince Varsena places his hand on my shoulder for a moment. "I will commission a new set to be made as soon as we return, and if you will recharge my mana stones, I will change the thickest pieces of leather the tanner has into Artifact plates."

I touch my fingers to my chest. "Deal."

He does the same as from behind me, the voice of Osiris says, "Greywolf, the last time your father was here, he paid a wood carver to craft a sword out of Ironwood, which he meant to bring you."

"Except he forgot about it." I reply as I turn around.

Osiris' blue glowing image smiles. "A man's mind is like an attic filled with the clutter of old memories, and the older you get, the more things get lost in the mess. I will give the sword to my courier, who will be leaving soon, and let Prince Varsena transmute it for you, if he so desires."

"It would be no trouble," the prince says. "However, I am wondering why an exalted person such as yourself is taking an interest in our doings?"

The glowing image makes an open gesture with both hands. "What happens here will affect what happens in other lands, including our kingdom, and I would watch it unfold with my own eyes as much as possible."

From the group of women, Zanzabel hurries over. "My lord Osiris, the Daemo Sybil told me she would be grateful if I established a temple of Osiris here in Bukhara as a balance to Inanna's, with Ishtar over both."

Timur frowns. "You would use it as a way to spy upon me."

"Say rather to trade knowledge between us." Osiris' image moves past us and stops in front of Timur. "Queen Zenobia wants the province of Syros, where the ancient city of Palmyra now lays under the Empire of the East's yoke. Beyond that, I want the kingdom to remain stable long after my death. Which means sailing in the direction the wind is blowing and not fighting against it."

"I see," Timur stroking his beard as he nods. "In that case, I have no objection to the establishment of a new temple."

"Good. For now, I need to remain with your younger brothers and keep my promise to resolve the betrothal, but after this image dissolves, when Zanzabel uses another gem to bring my image here, it will be to discuss important matters with you."

"While we are on the subject of temples," Sybil says as she approaches, "your highness, all the priestesses, including the other two Celtic ones, would like to remain in Bukhara and, with one exception, become devotees of Ishtar."

Standing beside me, Wysper gasps. "I thought they were coming with us."

The Daemo turns towards Wysper with a sly smile. "I offered your older priestess-sister Thalia the position of temple mistress, while Myra eagerly accepted the position of chief healer, a talent she excels at, having closed your wounds so many times previously." She turns towards Timur. "My prince, Myra has never been with a man before, and to fully initiate her into the sacred mysteries, a strong man, who can also be gentle, is needed to help me bring her fully into the fold. Would you know of someone who would be willing?"

Timur strokes his beard as he looks past the Daemo at the golden haired woman, who's blushing furiously. "If I am going to be the master of Bukhara, the least I should do is try to understand its religion."

The sly smile remains as Sybil bows. "Truly spoken. My prince, if you wish we can discuss the details on our way to your palace."

He chuckles as he shakes his head as if in disbelief. "My palace." He turns around to face Bukhara. "My city. Come, my friends," Timur motioning for the others to follow him, "we have a city to rebuild." He holds up his arms. "I was born for this!"

Az trades a look with me and shrugs, then turns around and joins the others heading towards the open gates. Prince Varsena sighs. "No good will come of this, I fear."

"I agree," Titan rumbles. "However, the matter is out of our hands."

"You are right," the prince says. "What say we find Wysper some warm clothing and join the Great Khan and the others?" He smiles. "It is high time we all went home."

Home. Does that even exist? I shrug. "My whole life, home has always been wherever Asena spent the night."

Wysper looks up at me. "My home will always be the island of Britannia, but I can be yours, if you want."

I smile and hold out my hand. "I'd like that."

Wysper smiles back as she grasps it, and all of us turn our backs on Bukhara as Prince Varsena leads us away.