Wysper - Old Bone Woman

It feels like we have been riding forever through shadowy shapes on an endless plain, but we have finally reached a disturbing, tree-like cluster of writhing tentacles, surrounded by stone slabs. Ghostdog has Attila direct all of us to form a circle looking outward, so anyone accidentally left in the Shadowlands will be noticed by their absence, before reaching out to grasp the grey mass. The air shimmers as a circular grey wave rolls outward past the leading edge, then back again.

Bringing the real world with it. Color returns as does the sun, and I breathe a sigh of relief as a cold wind off the steppes and hills around us brings the scent of dry grass and the stink of Warghorse. Attila begins calling out orders in their harsh language as Greywolf joins me. "This is where the Daemo brought their captives, and their trail is so clear even Fox could follow it."

"So what is the plan?" Alar says as Rocky stops next to the horse my brother and I are both sitting on.

We are on a flat, raised area, with hills to our right and a steep slope leading down to the plains below. Greywolf motions towards a spot where dark birds are circling something several leagues away. "That's where the Horde clan's camp used to be. The Daemo didn't take anything except people, so we're riding down there long enough to let the Warghorses feed and rest for a bit before going after the monsters."

I ask, "How did the Daemo use the Shadowlands in the first place, when Fox is supposed to be the only Daemo Shadow-walker?"

"All the Daemo can use the Grey," Greywolf replies, "but they don't have power once they're inside. So they can only travel from one weak spot to another... and hope they don't run into any Shadow creatures."

Alar gestures towards the Warghorses. "Is it true these creatures eat corpses?"

Greywolf shrugs. "They'll eat pretty much anything. According to Attila, the infantry he left behind had orders to gather up their dead and keep the scavengers off them until the Warghorses returned."

"Yecch, that's disgusting."

Titan rumbles, "The tribal Horde clans consider it a natural part of life, and an honor. I spent a little time with Old Bone woman before we left, and she told me a few things she thought it important to know." His gaze goes past us. "Speak Hel's name, and she appears." I turn my head in the direction he is looking.

A tall woman, wearing the same dark trousers and tunic as the rest of the Horde warriors, is striding towards us through the dry grass. She is bone thin as Yasataar had been with a face stark as a skull. But her dark brown skin seems flawless, and her long black hair has pieces of white ceramic ornaments braided into the tresses... Wait, are those ceramic pieces? "That woman is not wearing pieces of bone in her hair, is she?"

Alar glances back at me. "Finger bones and other small ones I didn't recognize. If I hadn't been dealing with the Picts regularly for the last couple years, I would've had a harder time accepting her." Greywolf raises his eyebrows at my brother, who shrugs. "Just wait until you see how the Picts get ready for battle."

The Warghorse riders in front of Old Bone woman have begun moving to either side, creating a path for her leading straight towards me as Ghostdog stops beside Alar's horse. "Wysper, you need to sit this one out, and Old Bone woman's being nagged to get your training started." He raises his arms and helps me off the horse. "There... and don't worry," Ghostdog giving me a reassuring smile as he pats my arm. "Attila's told everyone he's planning to make you his daughter, so no one will abuse you like they do the slaves."

My eyes widen at the last part as Greywolf gets down off of Rocky. "Papa, shouldn't someone be left to guard them?"

"Safer without guards," Old Bone woman calls out as she gets close. Her Greco-Roma is rougher than I am used to hearing. "Say goodbye to Ghostdog's kit and let's go."

"Wysper's now my kit as well," Asena growls, walking up beside us as Greywolf takes me into his arms to give me a deep kiss. "Make sure she's still here when we get back."

Old Bone woman only snorts. "Bring Khan Attila back alive, and kit will be returned knowing more than she knows now." Greywolf and I let our tongues linger together an extra moment before ending the kiss, and Old Bone woman grasps my shoulder with a claw-like hand. "Wysper belongs to me until Khan Attila returns alive."

She pulls me from Greywolf's hands. Only his father's hand on his shoulder keeps Greywolf from lunging at her, and I can practically feel the growl coming from deep inside Asena's chest. I take a deep breath. "Asena, I will be fine. Gratitude if you will guard Attila and keep him from doing anything rash." Her hairy face gives me a dubious look as I turn towards her son. "Woof, be careful."

Despite his anxiety for me, Greywolf smiles. "You too, Wysp. We'll be back before you know it."

Old Bone woman snorts again and pulls me with her as she returns the way she came, my feet stumbling a little before I catch myself and begin keeping pace. She mutters, "They think this over soon? When they see enemy, know better."

The Warghorse riders are staring down at us as we pass, their eyes crawling all over me as I match her stride. Old Bone woman looks angry enough to chew up a rock and spit it out as pebbles. We move past the warriors, and I breathe a secret sigh as I keep to her pace, the dry grass crackling under the soles of the new boots Asena had made for me. Summoning my courage, I say, "Apologies if I have given offense. That was not my intention."

Old Bone woman changes direction towards a set of steep hills at least a league away. "If you ever give offense, I let you know," she replies, giving me a sidelong look. Then her gaze snaps forward again. "Daemo creatures gave offense for stealing away tribe. Timur gave offense for forcing Yasataar to join the spirit world, and Yasataar gave offense for giving Timur no choice." Old Bone woman looks up at the sky. "And Tengri give offense for casting all fortunes on young shoulders of new khan."

I need to choose my words with care. "Is it permitted to be angry with your god?"

Her sidelong look returns, this time in puzzlement. "Of course. We give Tengri all praise, so he listen to complaints as well."

"I was never allowed to be angry at Yun-Kax... or at Pan, for that matter," I say as a memory of a druid priestess instructing us on the nature of Pan flashes through my mind.

Old Bone woman's eyebrows rise. "Interesting. Tell me about your time with the heart-eaters, beginning with the day you were stolen." I open my mouth to speak, but close it again as she raises her hand. "Spirits will be listening. To them, true words ring like steel swords, but false ones clatter like clay pots."

"I understand." I truly do not know whether to believe her or not, yet I also have no reason to lie. So, as we keep to her brisk pace, I briefly describe the temple in Britannia, then tell her everything I remember about that awful day. As I go on telling her about being molded to serve Yun-Kax, she begins asking me shrewd questions, at times going back to an earlier story before letting me continue.

I am in the middle of describing what I saw during the raid on Bukhara when she holds up her hand again. "We have arrived." I blink, shutting my mouth as I begin paying attention to my surroundings again. We are surrounded by rocky hills, with a large mound in front of us like a giant's two fists set together, and a large hole leading into the earth between fingers half-curled.

A dozen or so females wearing dark tunics and trousers are standing in front of the cave. Most of them are young Tartaros women, their hair either blood red like mine, or the orange-red color of fire. However, one has hair the golden yellow color of the bangs at my temples, while another woman, lighter skinned than the rest, has hair the color of fresh fallen snow. I blink in astonishment. I have never seen another ice-storm mage in my life, other than Yrg.

Then my eyes go wide, for two of the females are Daemo with purple hair. Noticing my reaction, the one who resembles a slender, wide-eyed waif, with a Daemo's normal dark eyes, smiles. "Mother, I brought a skin of watered wine, as I know your guest may be thirsty. May I let her drink?"

Old Bone woman speaks in their harsh language for a short while. She motions at my hands before saying something else, and there is a collective gasp among the females, including the Daemo. The slender Daemo pulls out the skin from behind her and holds it up. "Here, let me squeeze a stream into your mouth."

I give the Daemo a wary look. "I can hold the skin and do it myself."

The other Daemo is more angular and strong, with eyes as purple as her hair. "Mother told us to treat you as the heart-eaters did, and not let you use your hands."

I curl my arms to my chest, with my hands in fists under my armpits. "Does she plan to cut them off ?"

"She won't," the golden haired healer replies quickly, placing her hand on my shoulder. "If anything, she wants to keep you off balance so you won't resist your training."

"Ever since Yasataar recast herself as a spirit," the tallest of the blood-mages says with a chuckle, "she's been plaguing mother to bring you here."

"She's a worse nag now than she was alive," the slender ice-storm mage adds.

I look around at them. "All of you speak Greco-Roma?"

"All the tribal Horde clans do," the waif-like Daemo says. "Each tribe speaks a different tongue than the others, and Greco-Roma lets everyone speak together without arguing over whose language should be used." I nod in understanding as she holds up the skin again. "Permission?" I open my mouth and let her squeeze in water with enough wine added to kill any bad humors.

The Daemo lets me drink my fill, then puts the skin away as the healer touches my cheek with the back of her hand. "You're paler than anyone I've ever seen. Have you been ill?"

I shake my head. "This is my normal coloring."

The healer raises her eyebrows. "Truly?" I nod, and she looks at Old Bone woman. "Mother, I should still examine her."

"Do it while dream-walking," Old Bone woman replies. She points at the Daemo holding the water-skin. "Willow, you and Shirr walk the dream too, show guest how Daemo sorcery works." Both Daemo incline their heads as she turns back towards the healer. "Altani, draw half-breed into dream as well. Perhaps that will break bad mood."

Golden haired Altani inclines her head. "I will do as you desire, mother," she says, drawing me away with a gentle hand. "Come with me." Altani leads me into the narrow opening with the two Daemo at our heels, while Old Bone woman draws the others around her as she begins speaking to them in their harsh tongue. Deeper within there is light illuminating the passage, which quickly expands into a large chamber lit by oil lamps. The scent of almonds is strong in the air.

Niches have been chipped into the stone walls, holding not only lamps, but also ceramic jars and wooden boxes, while closed chests are set against the walls. In the center of the chamber, a stone fire pit has been lined with blackened bricks, its sullen coals making the air much warmer than outside. A small metal pot and a ceramic oven for baking sit beside it. As we head towards another passage off the main chamber, I ask, "How is it possible that you have so many different types of mages?"

"During the war of the Princes," Altani says, "the Rainbow Dragon fought anything it came upon, Daemo or Celestial, and lost scales in the fighting. During the Horde clan's flight from the wild ogres, our ancestors came upon caches of scales and used them to give us an edge over the monsters and hostile tribes who attacked them."

"Tell the story true," angular Shirr says with a savage grin. "Your ancestors ripped them from the hands of dead shaman, killed when the Horde clans overwhelmed their villages." She turns towards me and the grin gets wider. "They slew the warriors down to the last man, and culled out the weak, making slaves out of everyone else."

"We did whatever it took to survive," Altani says as we enter another passage, lit by more oil lamps at the other end. As we get close to the light, she calls out, "Khulan, it's me and the Daemo. We're bringing a guest."

I follow Altani into a smaller chamber, with sleeping mats and blankets settled around an enchanted device I recognize as a warming stone. A dark haired woman with broad shoulders huddles with her knees to her chest. Without looking up, she says,"Has Old Bone woman sold me to a slaver?"

There is a sharp note of exasperation in Altani's voice as she sighs. "Khulan, if you'd died with our old khan during the attack, you would've never warned us, and we'd be slaves ourselves. Now, brace up and attend me; mother wants you with us when we dream-walk and I examine Wysper."

Khulan looks up with a surprised expression. Her face has echos of the Tartaros steppes, but there is more of Germania, with eyes blue as the sky and higher cheekbones. There are also twin bangs of blood red hair at her temples the same shade as mine. "The same Wysper who had her heart ripped from her chest over and over again?"

"It was a mana node from my upper abdomen," I reply in a quiet voice, "which grew in a place easy to tear out. Muzen..." Bitterness stains my voice as I take a breath. "Muzen always waited until it was close to heart size before taking it out as part of the ritual. I used to believe it actually was my second heart, but then, I used to believe in a lot of foolish things."

Golden haired Altani gently grasps my shoulder. "And I believe I know what mother wants me to look for when I examine you." She glances over her shoulder. "Willow, will you get the vial of Dragon Tears from mother's chest?" The waif-like Daemo nods and heads towards a shadowed corner of the chamber while Altani continues. "A drop of Dragon Tears under your tongue and Khulan's will put both of you into a dreaming state."

The broad shouldered woman asks, "Why me? I'm no dream-walker."

"I need you to act as Wysper's guardian," Altani replies without looking away from me. "Dragon Tears will put you into a dreaming state and keep you there a long time, without being able to break out of the dream. The spirits which inhabit the dream world are not always friendly or pleasant to look at, and a few will try to draw Wysper away into dark places." Altani's gaze focuses on the woman now sitting cross-legged on a woven mat. "Your mission will be to drive them away instead. I'd normally ask Shirr to do this," the healer glancing at the angular Daemo and back again, "but I believe this is why mother insisted you come along."

I do not like the idea of being inside of a dream I cannot get out of. "Why does your examination have to be done this way? Why not normally, like regular healers do?"

"Because when you are fully in the dream world, as the Dragon Tears will put you, your dreaming self with be an exact image of your real body, down to the smallest hangnail. What I've learned to do is make parts of a person's body become clear as glass, beginning with their skin and working downward, until reaching parts of the body like a person's stomach, or a bad bone. With this skill, I've been able to find abnormal growths, or see a baby in their mother's womb and have an idea if it's a boy or girl." My mouth opens in shock and Altani smiles. "I taught the skill to Yasataar while she was alive, and when you finally meet her in the dream world, she will likely teach it to you."

"So I can teach it to my people." She inclines her head, and I ask, "What is it you expect to find?" Altani hesitates, and I add, "Surely you must have some idea."

"She is thinking of a story told about the old Xian empire," Shirr says, "in the days when ancient Babylon was the most powerful nation in the west. Before Lady Sword-son led the rebellion that ended the old empire, the emperor's Daemo advisers had begun experimenting with discarded scales off the Rainbow Dragon the emperor had in his vault. They discovered that, if the blood scale was left on a woman's abdomen during her pregnancy, along with a different colored scale placed above it for a certain length of time, the woman's womb would be altered."

"Altered how?"

Willow returns with a small, green glass bottle in her hand. "Instead of giving birth to a female child having mana nodes as normal," she says, handing the vial to Altani, "the girl would eventually grow one large node which could then be cut away and used to enchant various mundane items." Willow motions at me. "Like your blood corn, or a liquid the old empire used that would explode on contact, provided a fire scale was used along with an ice-storm one. However, once the wombs were altered, they were only able to support the growth of these mana nodes, and not children."

"Also," Shirr adds, "the maidenhead needed to remain intact. Once the girl had carnal relations with a man-"

"The mana node stops growing. I know." Take a deep breath; you are Brittani, and you knew there would never be children. "I would like to know the truth as well, so I can pass this knowledge on to my people."

"Then we should begin," Altani removing the top from the small vial. "Khulan, if you're not willing to do this, I can ask mother to let Shirr take your place."

The young woman is already shaking her head. "No, mother was right. I need to pick up my spear again and fight, regardless of whether our people condemn me for cowardice or not."

"Besides," Shirr adds, "I doubt mother would have agreed. She wants Wysper to know what is in store for her should Attila not return.