Amazonia - The Shadow Knight and the Blue Haired Prince

The Warghorse runs towards us across the platform, snarling as it spits out bloody froth, and I yell, "Guard the prince." Then leap off the bier as Antonius begins contracting my flesh into grey cords and skin. Pain rips through me, but the shrieking stops the moment I land with both feet on the paving stones, the grey Rune sword in my hands as the slathering beast pounds down the platform stairs.

It races towards me, swerving so it can pass and get to Timur instead, but I slash its side with the blade as it goes by. The Warghorse howls in pain as it skids to a stop. Then it turns, the old man no longer trying to escape but bumping along beside it as the beast charges straight at me. The old man needs to die, but not by my hand... remain still, let it come closer... now!

The Warghorse leaps for my throat as I slide right towards its uninjured side, the grey blade ripping through fur, flesh, and the leather cord holding the old man fast. He falls free as the beast howls again, sliding on the paving stones, and I rush over to his still form as if I'm guarding him as the creature's back claws scrape stone turning it around.

It's wary of my rune sword now, sliding to a stop just out of reach as it snarls, spraying red slather as it feints left, then lunges right. But I'm too fast, the sword tip in its face again, and it backs away. It turns to look up at Prince Timur on the funeral bier and I rush forward.

The red runes glow bright as the blade shears through its foreleg. The Warghorse shrieks in agony and snaps at me as I dance back, then dash forward again to slash at its face. The Rune sword rips through its skull, bones crunching as the beast gurgles on the blood pouring out of its mouth. It staggers away.

Then the Warghorse collapses onto the paving stones. I approach it one careful step at a time as Timur runs past me, Argat and Gur right behind him as they race towards the old man. My attention's focused on the beast, still twitching feebly, and I position myself along its side as I raise my sword. I slash downward through the back of its neck, then grab the beast's head with one hand and cut away the tendons until the head's free of the body.

I throw it to one side and turn around as Timur shouts, "Argat, run to Ishtar's temple and get one of the Celtic priestesses. My father's dying." Timur has the old man's head in his lap as his father gasps for breath.

Argat turns and sprints across the plaza, passing by Timur's brother Varsena who's running towards us. As he gets close, Varsena calls out, "How is father?"

"Bad," Timur growls as Varsena slides to a stop. More people are racing towards us and shouting as Timur watches his brother kneel beside him. "Varsena, if we don't get a healer here soon or even a Blood mage, he's not going to make it. What in Tengri's name happened?"

Varsena grimaces. "Wargsbane in a piece of fruit; I can't think of anything else it could have been."

Shaking the drops of blood off my blade, I stop beside them. "I thought Wargsbane only made animals too tired to move."

"In anything except a true Warg or Warghorse," Timur answers, looking up at me. "In Wargs, it sends them into a frenzy, as if they were rabid."

"This was more than just a frenzy, my prince. The beast was specifically going after you."

"I noticed that as well," Varsena adds. "Someone wiped a piece of fruit with a cloth that had your smell, then somehow managed to sneak it into the feed the Warghorses ate right before the champions battle."

Timur glances down at the old man. "But why was father's Warghorse the one affected?"

"Random chance," I reply before Varsena can speak. It wasn't chance at all, of course, since I've got a good idea who's responsible. But Timur doesn't need to know that. "My prince, the poisoner likely placed the tainted fruit on top of the mixture during an unguarded moment, and since your father's beast was the first to be fed, got the Wargsbane instead of another."

"What she is saying makes sense," Varsena says, "but I do not understand who would want to have you killed."

"The answer is obvious," I reply. "This was a Sasnayam plot to kill your brother. My prince," I say as I drop to one knee on Timur's other side, "in my current state, I can see who is loyal to you and who isn't, and other signs as well. Grant me leave to walk around this assembled gathering and find the poisoner, who's doubtless still lurking about so he can report back to his Sasnayam masters about what happened."

Timur gives me a sharp nod. "Do it, and if you're certain you have the right person, cut off their head on the spot and hold it up for all to see."

"By your will," I reply, getting to my feet as I glance towards Porthos and the merchants around him. Time to find a scapegoat.

Before I can take a step, Gur hisses, "Az, behind you." I look back over my shoulder.

A pair of three-dimensional red line drawings about a foot tall, and in the shape of four armed Nomads, are racing towards me. The red runes on my sword blade begin to glow as if a fire burned within them, and as I hold the blade out for the drawings to touch, the red glow transfers over to them.

Then they turn around and race towards the Temple district gate. Timur inhales sharply. "Az, your Nomads, are they..."

"Dead? If those were their tattoos, then they'd have to be, or else the tattoos wouldn't come off. Don't worry about it; the tattoos will now seek out new Chaldeans, either another set of twins or real Nomads, which would serve our needs better than the two I had before."

Gur's giving me a strange look. "But... I thought the twins were your friends."

I shrug. "When I return to being my weaker self, I'll mourn them, but right now I have a job to do."

"Varsena," Timur says, "go with Az and if she executes this poisoner, tell everyone of the People why she killed him." Varsena returns him a suspicious look, and Timur snaps, "I know we don't care a dog's dropping about each other, but our people deserve to know what is going on."

Varsena takes a deep breath. "Apologies. You are right, they do deserve to know." He looks at me and an uncertain expression slides onto his face. "Is she safe when she is like this?"

"You aren't the poisoner," I reply before Timur can speak, "because your hands aren't stained, and you have two small tusks coming out the sides of your mouth. So, you aren't an enemy."

"Tusks?"

"You want her to see those," Timur says. "Trust me."

Varsena shakes his head in confusion, but walks alongside me as I start across the plaza towards the south pyramid. An idea's forming in my mind, and as we get out of earshot of Timur, I glance Varsena's way. "I predict your father will be dead within a quarter-hour at most."

He jumps as if I'd poked him with a red-hot metal bar. "Dead? But-"

"The tusks coming out of his mouth were cracking and chipping away as I watched. My Nomad Chaldeans are also dead, which logically means that the merchant-spy Balthazar betrayed us, and took both the boy Paulus and Greywolf, and possibly Wysper as well. Earlier, your brother Avitohol was sent to find Greywolf, and hasn't returned."

Varsena sucks in his breath. "I think I see where you are going with this. Avitohol finds the twins down and Greywolf gone, asks the guards at the gate what they saw... oh no."

I nod, resting the unsharpened piece of the back blade on my shoulder. "His cousin Hypam and her warriors are camped just beyond Bukhara. If your younger brother's fairly certain the merchant took them, he would see it as following your father order to enlist the group to go after them."

"And he would insist on going along as well," Varsena says, shaking his head. "He would never dream that father could be dead... and Timur will use his absence against us."

"Against him," I reply. "Prince Varsena, your older brother will take control of your people no matter what you do, leaving you and your wife homeless on the cusp of winter."

"You forget I am a mage-crafter," he spits back at me. "Khor would find my skills of great value."

I raise my eyebrows. "Instead of a lapdog, the Lords of Khor are going to discover they've got a Direwolf living next door. So they might decide not risk his wrath by taking you in. And while the Black Dragon clan would accept you, Timur told me they have peculiar ideas about sharing females not protected by marriage into the clan."

Fear gnaws at his face a moment before he grits his teeth. "The woman approaching us is my wife, Sorocan, and she is unafraid to face whatever dangers we have to brave if Timur kicks us out as he promised."

Glancing at the woman running towards us, I remark, "You do know she's bearing your child, right?"

He stops and gapes at me for a moment. "Child? How could you know that?"

"Because she's got a tiny infant attached to her chest like a parasite. Now, you could risk their safety on the open road, or you could take charge of your people when Timur moves them to the sheltered place he has picked out for them. Think about it: when Timur leads the army south in the spring, he isn't planning to take your people with him."

"But... that is not the traditional way we fight."

I raise my eyebrows. "Is anything that's happened over the last several days traditional?" Varsena opens his mouth, but then closes it again as he shakes his head. "Exactly my point. Now, since he plans on leaving your people here while he leads the army, which of the tribal khans should he appoint to lead the people in his place?"

Varsena frowns. "If he appoints one over the others, there will be a great deal of tension." He takes a deep breath. "You are saying I could sit on the chair of the Great Khan in his place, without the other khans being jealous. But he will not do this. Timur hates me."

I put my grey, skull-like face near his, smiling as he shudders. "Prince Varsena, your brother wants your respect. Give it to him today when you speak to your people, do not fight the inevitable, and I will advise him to bury the dagger between you both. I will be honest: I don't care whether you and your family live or die, but as the highly intelligent brother who cannot usurp Timur's position because he's a mage, you're in a unique place to help. I want you with us." Varsena stares at me uncertainly as I pull back. "Go to your wife and discover whether or not I'm telling the truth, then join me."

I leave him and head toward Dancer and Fox, who are rushing my way, Karl with Lys on his shoulder striding close behind. "Domina," Dancer calls out as they get close, "the Nomads-"

"Yes, I know. However, I need you both to run to the main gate and find out from the guards if they've seen Prince Avitohol, and if so, where he went and with who. Fox, you run back here and give the information to Prince Timur. No one else." I grab her arm. "Do not use the Shadowlands. I don't want anyone associating you with being a Shadow-walker until long after today is over."

Fox nods. "Yes, Domina."

"Good. Dancer, after you send Fox on her way, head to the inn and see what happened. Take your time searching... there's no reason to hurry, now."

Dancer takes a deep breath and nods as well. "Yes, Domina."

"Good. Now, before you leave, I know what both of you did today in my service." They both go still as field mice until I place a hand on their shoulders. "Your actions may well have won us the war, though we'll see in time. Regardless, I won't forget. Now, go." They trade a look and take off running for the Temple gate as I walk over to Lys. "You took a chance, making Timur the target."

Lys gives me a sly smile. "I had faith in your martial prowess."

I incline my head, sharing the smile with her for a moment as Varsena hurries over, holding his wife's hand in a firm grasp. "Amazonia, I... Apologies for doubting you."

My expression turns serious as my eyes meet his. "Remember what I told you and follow me." Striding towards Porthos and the merchants all standing around him in front of the pyramid, I take the Rune sword off my shoulder and hold it in my right hand. "Porthos," I call out, "the merchant there in the red robes is an agent for the Sasnayam empire."

Porthos and the other merchants gasp and draw away from the dark haired man, whose mouth is opening and closing like a gasping fish. "This is an outrage," he finally spits out. "I am a loyal citizen of Bukhara."

"Then why do I see wings of the Sasnayam lion sticking out of your back?" Sweat pops out on his forehead and I snarl, "Answer me!"

I walk forward until the tip of the grey blade's less than a foot from his throat. "I... no, please, it is not my fault." The man drops to his knees. "They threatened my family if I did not cooperate."

The tip of my blade moves to the hollow spot at the base of his throat. "Then it seems you have a choice to make. Name names, and die fast, or refuse, and see your family thrown into the charnel pits for the dead to play with." I peel my lips back in the rictus of a smile. "I will make sure the dead are... creative." He hesitates, and I snarl, "Speak nothing but the truth, for I will see their lion wings as clearly as I see yours."

The man begins to cry. Names flow from his lips as fast as the salty water from his eyes, the names meaning nothing to me but they must to Porthos, for he grimaces. "May sand blast their faces and close their mouths. They were trusted men."

"Have someone take me to them and I will sort out their guilt or innocence. Now, all of you stand back." Behind me, sandals and boots scrape stone in the merchant's haste to get away, as I take the sword with both hands and hold it up. "I pronounce you guilty of the poisoning of the Great Khan's Warghorse and attempted murder of Prince Timur."

The man's eyes widen. "Murder? But-"

I swing hard, cutting off his words as the blade shears through his neck. His head falls away as blood spurts from the severed vessels, the body collapsing a moment later as his life flows onto the paving stones in a growing pool. I shake the blood drops from the blade as Varsena cautiously walks over. "Was he truly the poisoner?"

"To my sight, his hands are stained red as the berries of the Wargsbane plant," I tell him as I point towards them with the sword.

His light brown hands are unstained, of course, but Varsena believes what I'm telling him, for he nods. "Then I will tell the People," he says, picking up the dead man's head by its hair. "And Amazonia?" I raise my eyebrows and he sighs. "My child will be born in the spring."

Varsena walks away, tapping the deice in his ear before speaking to the crowd in their harsh language. His wife falls in beside him, her expression fearful while his has become grimly determined, as if he knows what he has to do, now.

"Porthos," I say as I turn towards him, "can you find me someone who knows the people the poisoner named?"

"I will come with you and point them out myself," he replies in an indignant voice. "This nest of vipers must be eradicated once and for all."

I nod as his own tiny lion wings shrivel up and disappear. "Excellent. Let me tell the prince what we intend first, and then we'll go."

Karl, with Lys still on his shoulder, falls in beside us. "Argat's coming with the older Celtic priestess. I wonder if she'll make it before-"

From the place where a crowd's formed around Timur and his father, a keening wail begins. "I believe her services are no longer needed," Lys says. "I recognize that voice as Khingla's wife."

We continue walking as Timur, with Gur beside him, leaves the crowd and join us. "Az, you were right. He called for Avitohol at the end, then choked on his own blood. We tried to save him…"

Timur breaks off talking. Porthos, Lys, and Karl express their sympathy as Varsena continues, the crowd erupting in wails of their own. "My prince, I believe your people now know as well."

"They do," he says with a sigh. Then his gaze sharpens. "Az, what did you tell my brother? Today he's spoken more respectfully about me to the crowd than he's ever done in his life."

"Merely helped him understand he has more to lose than he realized, and much to gain as the one person who can sit in your chair and dispense justice in your name, without being allowed to take the throne himself. If you can both overcome your differences, he will make a valuable ally."

Timur blinks, then begins stroking his beard. "It will be hard, yet it would solve a great many problems. To be honest, I had not thought that far ahead."

"But we have," Lys says, standing up on Karl's shoulder before stepping gracefully over to Timur. "My prince, Amazonia has a list of Sasnayam agents still remaining in Bukhara. While she, Porthos, and Karl go after them, you and I can plot out our next move."

Timur nods. "Az, do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this scheme against me. I want to see all of those who are guilty in the death of my father, brought to justice and executed."

To my sight, Lys' hands are stained bright red as the berries on a Wargsbane bush. "By your will. Porthos, will you command the guards to seal all the gates so no one can leave?"

"At once." Porthos hurries over to several guards in brass armor as Karl and I take our leave of the prince and walk away. I slow my pace to sheathe my sword, and Karl says, "Should I find a couple Warghorses to speed up our search?"

I shake my head as my lips peel back in the rictus of a smile. "There's no hurry. Walking is fine, because we now have all the time in the world that we need."

All the time in the world.