Wysper - Nightmares

"Timur did what?"

We are just outside the buildings on the opposite side of the bridge from Bukhara, with grass and rolling hills before us. The large tent has been packed and stowed upon a large cart, with the warriors and nobles of the White Horde mounted on their Warghorses and more normal horses, lined up in a column ready to depart. Someone had thought to bring Greywolf's Daemo mount, Rocky, and after being properly introduced, which meant giving Rocky a small taste of my blood, he let both of us climb up onto his back and join Prince Varsena just behind the Great Khan at the front of the column.

The Great Khan had been speaking with one of the nobles, but now turns in his saddle and asks a sharp question in their language of Prince Varsena, who nods and begins to speak. Standing beside us, Titan rumbles, "It would seem the Great Khan just received the news about his eldest son, and wants an explanation."

Greywolf asks, "Will the Great Khan try and retake the city?"

Titan looks our way. "If he does, he may have a revolt among the Tartaros warriors. They admire Timur for his bravery, and his desire for their people to remain locked into doing things the way their ancestors have for hundreds of years." He turns back towards the Great Khan, whose expression has turned into outrage, and sighs. "I had a very frank discussion with Khan Khingla about his people, and the problems he is facing trying to get them to change. He was right about his people needing time to accept these changes, yet banishing his son was the wrong way to go about it."

"Even if the Great Khan changes his mind and lets Timur back in, I'm not sure he'd leave Bukhara. I think he's going to like being king."

Titan rumbles his agreement as I say, "Master Ogri, may I ask a question?"

He looks at me in surprise. "Of course. Wysper, you are no longer a slave, but a free woman."

"I know it here," touching my forehead, "yet my heart has not yet accepted the change... and I fear the Great Khan is no different. This may be inconsiderate, but Prince Timur did give him an opportunity to make his dream become reality, and the Great Khan turned him down. I do not fully understand why."

Greywolf snorts in a good natured way. "I think Timur's army of Shamblers had something to do with it."

Memories from last night flash through my mind, making me shudder. "I see your point. Necromancy as the Brittani practice it is used only to speak to the ancestors, never to raise an army of corpses." Both of them are looking at me as if I have done something wrong. "Apologies, perhaps I should not have spoken."

"It's not your fault," Greywolf says, giving Titan a sharp look.

"I am not upset with Wysper," Titan's voice the rumbling of an angry mountain, "but at the practice. How long have the druids-"

He breaks off speaking as the Great Khan snaps out a short speech as if making a pronouncement, the eyes of his warriors widening as many of the nobles gape at him, their expressions turning into one of shock. The Great Khan finishes by pointing back toward Greywolf and myself before facing forward once more, his right hand making a chopping motion forward as he presses his heels into the flanks of his Warghorse, the only one with grey fur on his face instead of black. The animal takes off at a trot, and after a moment, everyone else does the same. Prince Varsena drops back to join us. "One thing you can say about the Great Khan is that he never does anything by half measures."

Titan rumbles, "Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning that the moment we reach the encampment, he is going to begin the process of having my brother, Iron-for-brains, declared dead to the People of the Eternal Sky."

I gasp as Greywolf sucks in his breath. "Can he do that?"

Prince Varsena glances our way. "He can, and be glad he is doing so. You see, our people have a tradition that, when someone important is declared dead for whatever reason, a betrothal must take place so the soul of the person who died can inhabit the child the couple conceives that night."

"But that's not going to happen. I mean, I would if we could have a child like normal people, but it only works if we try it in the Shadowlands, and I won't risk Wysper's life for any reason."

I lean against him, pressing my face next to his for a moment and making him smile, before sitting upright again. The prince says, "That is why this betrothal is taking place tonight. The Great Khan mentioned what you just said, and told us he will forbid you from taking Wysper into the Shadowlands to conceive a child."

I nod as the implication becomes clear. "The Great Khan is symbolically denying Prince Timur the chance to ever return."

"So it would seem," Titan rumbles. "And since Prince Timur cannot return to contest this decision without risking death, he will lose his chance to ever become Khan of khans."

Greywolf asks, "Would your brother be crazy enough to try?"

Prince Varsena shakes his head. "The Xian mercenaries are under orders to shoot him dead on sight, with a reward in gold for whoever does the deed. On a better note, with Iron-for-brains declared dead, the Great Khan is not honor-bound to retake the city and avenge the insult. We lose the blood corn but no one else dies."

Prince Varsena looks at me as I say, "Apologies for mentioning this, but last night Prince Timur went on at length about how he needed the Tartaros warriors to make his plans work. I am fearful that, if he learns he is to be proclaimed dead, he will raise his legion and march on the encampment."

The prince only sighs. "Timur will laugh for joy when he hears the news of his demise. Our warriors long for the old days, when their fathers and grandfathers swept through the cities of Indus and Xian, plundering their riches and turning the prettiest girls into bed-slaves. Going east means guarding herds and raiding farms, perhaps even a village here or there, but no more than that."

Titan rumbles, "The Great Khan told me his warriors are loyal to their khans, and the khans are loyal to him."

"The khans tell him only what he wants to hear. Tradition is ingrained into us; if Timur brings his legion to force the Great Khan to give into his demands, then even those who side with Timur will fight against him, because Iron-for-brains is being an usurper. But once he is declared dead, everything changes."

Greywolf is nodding. "He can't be Great Khan of the People anymore, but everything that happened before doesn't matter either, because you can't hold a living person liable for the sins of the dead. Wotan did something similar to Asena when she had me with papa, so he could cast her out from the Germanic tribes without having to hunt her down and kill her." My eyes widen in shock, for to be cast out from your people is a terrible thing, but Greywolf does not notice as he continues. "Could Timur hire them on as mercenaries?"

"Worse. Timur is of royal blood, and his 'death' will not change that. He can form a new tribe whenever he wants."

Titan frowns. "Who would risk your father's wrath to join him?"

Prince Timur looks forward a moment. The Great Khan is many horse-lengths ahead of everyone else except a dozen or so guards, and most of the others have formed small groups of their own away from us. "More than you might think," the prince says in a quiet voice. "The khans that Karl was translating for, who command the Ghost Goat and Bloody Dog tribes, are Timur's strongest supporters. They will pack up and leave the encampment the moment Timur extends an invitation for them to join him. The other khans would likely remain, but will lose warriors to the new tribe forming in the rich, fertile lands beyond the city." He grimaces. "Lose too many warriors, and the khans will have no choice but to follow Timur."

"Leaving your people in a world of shite... oops." He glances back over his shoulder, looking contrite. "Apologies, that was rude. I'll try to keep a better guard over my tongue."

I cannot help but smile. "Truly, there is no need. Among my people, earthy language was considered normal, and we all used it." My happiness is clouded by old pain and I look down at my hands, which are curled into fists as they rest on his thighs. "I used to speak the Brittani tongue the same way you speak Greco-Roma, but the High Priest... apologies, but Muzen, taught us to speak and act in the formal ways of the Sasnayam empire." Greywolf raises his eyebrows before turning his head to look down at my hands.

Then he takes them in his own and gently uncurls my fingers. "Guess we'll have to work on getting you back to the way things used to be," Greywolf moving my arms under his cloak until my hands both touch his bare abdomen. "There, your fingers won't freeze this way. You can rest your head against my back, if you want."

"I would likely go to sleep on you. Even though I was exhausted, the nightmare Yrg must have planted in my mind gave me little rest."

Titan rumbles, "Do you remember anything about it?"

"I always know my real dreams from hers," I reply with a shudder, "because they do not fade but remain sharp as bad memories. In this one, I was walking in a forest growing darker and scarier by the moment when a giant wolf-woman confronts me."

Greywolf gives me a sharp look. "A wolf-woman?"

I nod. "She was taller than you with black fur, an almost human face with fangs coming out of her mouth, and black claws." I frown. "She was also wearing armor, which now that I think about it, was strange. Anyway, I turned and ran away, even though I knew I could not escape her, and as I felt her hot breath on my back, Yrg appeared on my shoulder, telling me the only way to escape was by taking my own life."

"Don't do it, no matter how bad the nightmares get." Greywolf grasps my hands with his own as he looks over his shoulder. "I won't lose you, not after everything we've been through."

I give him my most reassuring smile as I squeeze his fingers. "I have been through this before. The nightmares will fade, in time, especially now that Yrg is dead... well, more or less."

"When we return to the encampment," Prince Varsena says as a rider drops back to join us, "I will ask the Keeper of the Spirits to lift this enchantment, regardless of whether she will teach-" The rider says something to him in their language, and rides forward again as the prince looks at Titan. "I was just informed the Great Khan desires our counsel... not that he will listen to it."

Titan chuckles as he gently pats my shoulder. "Get some sleep if you can." I nod, and he lengthens his stride as the prince sets his heels to the Warghorse's flanks. I lean against Greywolf's back, Rocky's easy stride smoother and less jarring than any horse I have ridden, the sun warm on my face and my new cloak blocking the wind. While I am sure sleep will elude me, it would be pleasant to close my eyes, if only for a few moments...

Rocky comes to an abrupt halt and I jerk awake, opening my eyes to a twilight sky with everyone around us getting off their mounts while other men lead riderless horses and Warghorses away. "What... where are we?"

"Next to the animal pens just outside the encampment," Greywolf replies.

Rocky turns his head and gives Greywolf a withering look. "Speak for yourself." Greywolf rolls his eyes and I smother a giggle as he slides off Rocky's back before helping me down.

Around us, men are talking or shouting in a friendly way at others walking towards us from an open gate set into a wooden palisade stretching off to the left side. The Warghorses roll on the flattened grass as their saddles are removed, before trotting on their own into a large, fenced off area, where men and women in rough clothing seem to be feeding them. The horses are being led to a different pen as more men in rough clothing collect the saddles and carry them off.

The river must be to my right, for I can smell water mingled with the odors of beast and man, and hear its rushing sounds. There are a group of small shacks set up along its banks, and as I ease the ache in my thighs, Greywolf motions towards them. "Privies are over there. Look for the ones with a painted moon over the doorway, and not the ones with the wolf's head." I nod and we both head towards them.

As I return, Greywolf is standing beside Titan and Prince Varsena, while Avitohol is arguing with his father several horse-lengths away, both of them speaking in their tongue as the boy gestures back towards Bukhara while the Great Khan shakes his head. I stop next to Greywolf. "Is something wrong?"

Prince Varsena sighs. "I was afraid this might happen. Even though the runt killed several soldiers, proving his manhood, the Great Khan insists he is still a boy who is not allowed to set up his own family."

"Meaning he cannot adopt me." The prince nods, and fear strikes at my heart. "But our betrothal-"

"Is going on just as planned," he replies with a smile. "I offered you guest-right, which means that you are a part of my family until we go our separate ways. My wife and I will sponsor your betrothal since my little brother cannot."

"And was my husband going to tell me this?" Striding towards us out from the open gate is a slender woman with a sharp nose and finely chiseled features in a light brown face, her dark blue dress richly embroidered and elegant sandals on her feet. Her black hair spills down to her shoulders in a luxurious wave. Behind her walks a Germanic looking man in a rough tunic and crude sandals, holding a witchlight lantern in one hand and a wooden cudgel in the other. A leather collar with painted symbols is wrapped around his neck.

Stopping in front of the prince, she looks up at him with raised eyebrows as if expecting an answer. He winces. "Sorocan, there was no time to send word. Events have been moving quickly."

"Not as quickly as the rumors. Well, are you going to introduce us?"

Prince Varsena seems to be suppressing a sigh as he makes an inviting motion. "Wysper, before you stands Sorocan of the Blue River tribe, daughter of Khan Khalja the Elder."

I bow to her. "Mistress Sorocan, I am Wysper of the Iceni people, daughter of Queen Boadicea, third of her name."

"Who was once known as Blood-Wysper, the eternal sacrificial victim of the heart-eaters."

I nod. "Blood-Wysper was my slave name-"

"But now you are free." Sorocan's sharp features soften as she smiles. "The Keeper of the Spirits sent one of them to watch over the Great Khan while he was beside Bukhara, and learned all that happened. Your betrothal ceremony is taking place just as soon as I can get you ready."

My eyes go wide. "So soon?"

She nods as Prince Varsena says, "Did the Keeper come to visit you?"

Sorocan glances back at the Germanic man behind her before looking forward again. "Do you see one of Wulf's magic talking ravens on my shoulder? The Keeper is back in our tent, waiting for Wysper so we can prepare her. You," her finger making a stabbing motion towards the prince, "need to do the same with Greywolf."

Prince Varsena's shaking his head. "I know the Great Khan wants this betrothal to happen soon, but this is insane."

"Asena escaped her prison right after the Great Khan and the delegation left. She was seen crossing the bridge that leads into the wild country where the troll cave lays, and the guard has been tripled, but the Keeper is worried that Asena might return."

"A wise move," Titan rumbles, "as it is likely she is watching us right now." Glancing over my shoulder, the hills beyond the river stand like silent sentinels, and I shiver as Titan catches my attention once more. "Wysper, go with this woman while the prince and I prepare your betrothed."

Sorocan reaches out and I grasp her hand, letting myself be pulled along towards the open gate despite my confusion, as Prince Varsena calls out, "Sorocan, you knew all about this but threw it in my face anyway."

Over her shoulder, she calls back, "If I am being rude, then you must punish me for my behavior." She laughs at his strange, almost hungry look, and turns back forward. "If you want to keep a man's heart, always remember a wolf lies inside him who lives for the hunt, and for the capture. Now," her voice growing eager, "tell me what happened in Bukhara. I am dying to find out."

I hesitate, for I do not know this woman, but then throw caution upon the fire and tell her everything as we pass by tent after tent. A multitude of people are either walking along the criss-crossing dirt roads or performing tasks, many of them breaking off talking or working to gawk as we pass by.

We reach two long ditches barring the way in front of us, with a narrow strip of earth between them, guarded by warriors in leather and steel. Sorocan speaks a few words to them and they let us pass, the tents much nicer on this side as we walk alongside the deep trench until reaching one with blue water symbols and other designs on the front. The Germanic man opens the flap and we step inside.

Witchlight lanterns hang from wooden crossbeams holding the tent up, illuminating a large space with richly woven carpets on the floor and hanging against the walls. More carpets partially cover wooden chests on either side. On the far side is a sleeping mat big enough for two, with folded blankets and pillows, while several embroidered flat cushions with colorful bolsters to lean against are set up around a low stone table with four legs. An enchanted fire-stone, a thick round disc the size of my hands placed together, is in the table's center, the runes along the side glowing blue while the stone itself glows a dull red.

A Sasnayam woman in a linen dress and a painted leather collar around her throat, is pouring hot water from a copper teakettle into three ceramic cups as an old woman's voice comes from the right-hand side of the tent. "The spirits told me that you and your guest were on the way, so I had your girl prepare tea."

The Sasnayam woman, who has the look of a someone from the noble caste, is old enough to be Sorocan's mother. She does not look up but continues pouring water as Sorocan deeply bows. "Keeper of the People, please forgive my lack of manners."

Sitting on a cushion is an old, old woman in bone white robes, her long, tangled hair covering her face. "Child," she says, making a dismissive wave with a thin hand as gnarled as a tree root, "how could you be in two places at once?" She beckons with her fingers. "Princess of the bloody crown, come and sit with me."

I gasp. "How do you know that?"

Through the matted hair covering her face, I see her smile. "Because the spirits see what Amazonia did. Come." Sorocan gives me a gentle push, and together we walk around the stone table and stop in front of the woman, who motions for me to take the cushion in front of her. I kneel, then sit with my legs folded, Sorocan sitting to one side as the Keeper says, "Child, I need to examine you to make sure your mana is flowing properly." Before I can respond, she reaches out and places one hand on my abdomen. Then she grasps both my hands, smiling as she holds them for a moment, and finally places both hands at my temples.

The smile is gone as she takes her hands away. "You will be happy to know that the place where your mana node used to form is healing, and not reforming as the mana is now flowing freely through your hands. But the nightmare the Winter Fae planted into your mind is strong."

"Prince Varsena told me you could remove it."

She gives a derisive snort. "Sometimes he gives me far too much credit. Normally, I could, but Yrg has been transformed by the Necromantic Arts into something the spirits are loath to challenge. However, there is hope." The Keeper reaches out and taps me once between the eyes. "Anything transformed by the Necromantic Arts is strong, yet also fragile, and if you turn around and face this wolf-woman, which is Yrg's memory of Asena, then the nightmare will shatter and never return."

Fear stabs me through the heart. "Please, mistress, there has to be another way. I have tried that with Yrg's nightmares in the past and only wound up in a worse place than if I ran."

In a gentle voice, Sorocan says, "Were they that bad?"

I nod, tears leaking from my eyes as Sorocan grasps my hand and holds it while the Keeper cocks her head, as if listening to words only she can hear. "If that is so," she finally says, "there is another way. After the betrothal tonight, you and Greywolf must find Asena and you must confront her, even at the risk of your own life."

Sorocan gives the Keeper an indignant look. "That... creature, wants to kill Wysper."

There is something wrong with the Keeper's face as she continues staring at me... no, I cannot believe she has no eyes. "Child, the spirits tell me there is no other way."

"Then I will do it." I stab at my eyes with the heel of my free hand, rubbing away the tears. "I am tired of being afraid all the time. I am Brittani; I was ready to die with Greywolf, and if his mother decides to kill me, I will not run." Sorocan is staring at me like I have lost my mind, so I give her a sad smile. "As long as I get one night with Greywolf, I will be content."

"If Asena kills you," the Keeper says, "I will ensure you are given the funeral of a great warrior. Yet, if somehow you survive, I will take you on as my apprentice and teach you all I know, dream-walking and spirit-lore, so the knowledge can pass on to another people."

Sorocan lets go of my hand as her eyes go wide. "Teach... but Wysper is an outlander. Apologies," she says, looking my way, "but you will never be one of us, and Varsena told me spirit-lore cannot ever be shared with outlanders."

"We may all be outlanders soon," the Keeper says cryptically. "But until then," her face breaking out into a grin, "we are going to have some fun. Believe it or not, I love planning betrothals."