Wysper - Home

For years I prayed for someone, anyone, to bring me back to Britannia again. However, were I ever to meet my younger self, I would counsel her to be careful what you pray for. Because sometimes prayers are answered.

We had settled into a routine within Lord Osiris' temple, expecting to be there for the annual flooding of the Nile, which always occurred during the first week of May. But Ghostdog arrived unexpectedly with news. The Gauls were planning a campaign to sweep the Brittani away forever, waiting only for the snow to melt before they launched their attack, and if I truly wanted to be queen, I had to leave Aegyptus now. So we left the temple and Ghostdog led us through the Shadowlands across half the known world.

To Britannia. Home, or it would be, had the Gauls not overrun the lower half of our island. Ebora is the new capitol, a city near the eastern coast, and protected by the convergence of two rivers on its southern and north-eastern flank. Stout walls defend the rest.

Yet high, thick walls mean nothing when you can walk through a solid wooden gate. I have not been to Ebora since I was a little girl, and it is strange, walking its streets as if wandering in a dream. When I was a child I thought Ebora to be magnificent. Yet somehow, it seems to have shrunk, its grandeur now only weathered walls and covered pig sty's and fear upon the faces of the shadow people we pass on its streets.

We walk through the northern gate and skirt Ebora's castle on the hill beyond the river, Ghostdog leading us to an old ruin several leagues away. Among the pitted stones overgrown with the shadows of dead brambles, a woman stands not far from the writing mass of grey tentacles marking the location of the grey tree in the real world. Her dozen or so guards stand in a semi-circle behind her, far enough away to give her some privacy, but close enough to come quickly if she shouts. They wear chainmail with steel chest plates, three in Artifact armor with the same round discs as my brother wears, and all have swords in their sheathes. Their hands rest upon the pommels and their faces are grim.

Ghostdog stops in front of her and frowns. "I know this woman, but I don't know why she's here."

Titan rumbles, "Or how she knew we would be arriving today."

Greywolf's father absently nods. "Titan, assemble everyone near the weak point and Greywolf, when I give the signal, put us back into the real world. If the soldiers charge, or Titan gives the order, send us back into the Grey at once."

"Papa-"

"I know," Ghostdog says, glancing back over his shoulder, "we'll be ringing the dinner bell twice. We'll kill that ogre under the bridge if and when we cross it."

Titan herds all of us to a spot behind the tentacles while Ghostdog positions himself a horse-length away from the tall woman and looks back at us. He nods, and Greywolf lets one of the tentacles touch him as Ghostdog turns forward again. A wave of grey rolls out just past Ghostdog and rolls back, bringing the real world in all its color with with it.

A cold wind slaps us across the face. I wrap my cloak around me, and everyone else does the same except for Ghostdog. He only folds his arms across his armored chest. "Morgana, this is a surprise."

The soldiers give a shout of surprise, but the woman standing over Ghostdog raises her hand without looking back, and they subside. She is tall as Greywolf with dark blue hair, and wears a dress green as the leaves in spring. "I would say the same, O me favorite dog, except an ancient crone named Yasataar came to me in a dream. not only told me who was coming and when, but also showed me all of your friend's images and told me a good deal about them. When I woke, I remembered everything, meaning it was a true dream and not something I ate from that harridan of a cook in the castle. So here I am."

As Morgana and Ghostdog continue speaking, Greywolf moves behind me and brushes my ear with his lips. "Wysp," he breathes, "who is this?"

"I have no idea," I whisper back, "except that her voice has the lilt of Eire, the island to the west." The ghost-glass in my forehead, patterned in the shape of a long, thin diamond, had remained asleep while we traveled through the Shadowlands. But now I feel it beginning to wake up. Strange symbols only I can see are appearing and falling like the first few drops of a rainstorm. "Woof," I say to him as the symbols multiply and fall faster and faster, "please hold onto me."

Greywolf holds me tight as the symbols swirl like a storm, my senses reeling before new symbols stop appearing and the remainder fall towards the earth and fade. "Gratitude," I say as the last symbol disappears. "Lord Osiris warned me that the moon-stone in my forehead has to continually speak with the satellite moons overhead, which it cannot do in the Shadowlands, and has to make up for lost time once we are back."

"Why do you think I put myself behind you?" Greywolf gives me a gentle squeeze. "Osiris tried to explain what the moon-stone system was while you were with the Sphinx, and while I don't understand the whole 'system resetting itself' part, I do know it overwhelms your mind until it settles down." He whispers in my ear, "Is your invisible adviser back yet?"

A ghostly image wavers in front of me, then settles into the likeness of Prince Varsena's wife, Sorocan, who is safely back in Bukhara, as far as I know. The image waves at me, then puts her thumb to her nose and waggles her fingers at Greywolf. I smile. "She is, and makes fun of you again." Greywolf snorts the same way Asena does as my senses grow steady once more. "There, everything is returning to normal."

Castor, standing beside Greywolf, chuckles. "Or whatever normal is these days."

Khulan, the Black Dragon warrior, glances his way and snorts herself before looking at me. "My lady, if you're feeling better, Greywolf's father wants us to join him."

Greywolf lets me go, and the five of us walk over to them as Ghostdog steps beside her and turns around. "Everyone, this is Morgana, the half-human daughter of the Celestial, Queen Eriu of the kingdom of Eire."

Titan rumbles, "I thought Celestials siring half-human children was against the Code."

Morgana stares up at him with eyes hard as emeralds. "All those who wrote the Code are either dead or fled back to the Heavens, where they will remain if they have any sense."

"Not all of them are dead," Titan counters. "Asena-"

"Is in no position to lecture me mother, if she was so inclined." Morgana exhales sharply. "Titan, I understand where you stand on the Code and why, yet what she did by having me honors the spirit of the Code if not the letter. Unlike the Brittani, Eire no longer worships her as a goddess but respects her as our queen, who has kept Eire united and free. And when she dies, which will be soon, I will step into that role. Which is why I am here on this forsaken island instead of my own." Morgana turns her eyes like emeralds upon me. "Tell me, O you who are to become the last Queen Boudica, if you are ready to face the Brittani court, who squabble like children over their mother's favor when a traitorous serpent glides amongst them."

I thought I would have more time to prepare myself, yet Adviser warned me I had to be ready from the start. "If by traitorous serpent you mean one of the clan chiefs, I know what he looks like."

Lady Morgana rears back. "How can you know that?"

I tap the long, diamond shaped ghost-glass embedded in my forehead. "Ever since I received this, I have kept watch over Ebora in my own way. I watched as a clan chief rode out with his war-band and met with a Celestial known to Lord Osiris. A Gaul named Balor One-eye."

Everyone in our group already knew this, but also know to say nothing as Lady Morgana moves a step towards me. "Tell me what he looks like and I will tell you his name."

I shake my head. "Apologies, Lady Morgana. I know what he looks like, yet I have no idea who he might be allied with."

"Not Morgana," Ghostdog says before she can speak. He turns to look at her. "Wysper described him to me, and if it's who I think it is, the two of you hate each other worse than two dogs fighting over a bitch." Lady Morgana raises her eyebrows, and Ghostdog grins. "That didn't come out very tactful, did it."

Lady Morgana gives him a look half-exasperated, half-amused, as Adviser whispers in my ear. I clear my throat. "Apologies again, but in a potentially hostile court, two allies will, at times, pretend to be enemies, so they can learn the intentions of the other side."

She raises her hand before Ghostdog can speak. "Wysper makes a good point, and it eases my mind to hear her question the loyalty of someone she does not know. The strongest defense I can make is that I want Eire to remain free, and not subject to those rabid boars who call themselves Gauls."

"I can definitely vouch for her on that," Ghostdog says. "I've known her mother since the Prince's war, and the two have always doted on each other."

"Mother will give her life for Eire," Lady Morgana says. "Wysper, I have a thought. If I describe the clan chief I believe you saw, will you confirm his identity?" I nod, and she says, "A broad shouldered man as tall as Ghostdog's son, with black hair gone to grey and a beard bristling like a forest of spears. Did he have men with him"

I nod. "About a dozen or so men, all bearing shields."

"Could you see the design painted on them?"

"It was night," I reply, "but my watcher's sight can pierce the darkness."

"Was it the narrow head of a horse?" I nod again and her hands close into fists. "I knew it! His name is Lord Cormac, clan chief of the Brigante, and the most powerful man after the clan chief of the Iceni, Lord Tristam." Lady Morgana smacks her fists against her thighs. "I have ways of me own to keep watch, and all the signs pointed to Cormac as the one who opened the secret gate and let in the Gauls. But I could never get the solid proof the other clan chiefs would need to bring him down."

"You wouldn't need solid proof," Ghostdog says. "Tristam told me the other clan chiefs hate him bitterly, and would jump at the chance to cut off his head and stick it on a pole."

"Leaving his son at the head of an enraged tribe. The boy hates his father even more bitterly than the other clan chiefs, yet to forgive such a slight would stain his, O so precious honor, and he would be forced to break with the confederation and declare war on us."

Adviser is already whispering in my ear. "Lady Morgana," I say as Adviser steps back, "if we could come up with solid proof, or goad Lord Cormac into doing something rash, how would his son react?"

"Little Boots?" Lady Morgana's expression turns thoughtful. "Cormac, son of Cormac, is smart as a wolf and just as cautious... and yet, if he smells blood, I believe he would go for his father's throat." Her eyes meet mine. "Give him the Brigante and you will have a loyal ally for life."

Castor growls, "Unless he smells blood again."

She smiles at him. "There is that, yes."

"Why did you call him Little Boots?" Greywolf asks.

"An incident that happened when he was a young boy," she says with a grimace. "His father had taken him with on a raid, and back at the camp, the child had put on his fathers mud caked boots and pretended to be the clan chief. The warriors had gone along with the joke until Lord Cormac came out of his tent. Instead of laughing at a child's absurdity, or scolding him, Lord Cormac took a whip and gave the child several scars," Lady Morgana touched her cheek, "including one he carries here, to teach him a lesson. His father began calling him Little Boots to mock him, but the boy took the name and now, will not answer to anything else."

I take a deep breath. "Lady Morgana, if you will bring your proof against Lord Cormac to court when I am presented, I will do my best to goad him. I need to take control of the clan chiefs, and bringing down a hated traitor will put me many leagues down that road."

Lady Morgana's expression is half-hopeful, half-suspicious. "What about Lord Cormac's son?"

Part of me feels wicked, yet I cannot help but smile. "Little Boots has a secret... and I know what it is."