Wysper - Little Boots

As Lord Cormac hurls his dagger at my chest, hands grab me and pull me backwards as color drains away from the world.

The throne room changes into a grey place of detailed shadows as I stumble, but thin arms support me before I fall. "Easy there, Wysper," Ghostdog says, his deeply wrinkled face smiling as he helps me regain my feet. "My son would have a fit if I let you bang your knee going down."

I gasp and begin to tremble as Castor, who is standing beside us, growls. "That was too close."

Ghostdog shrugs as he lets me go. "I had to wait until Cormac made his move, although," he adds with a chuckle, "I didn't expect him to throw his dagger. I was expecting him to rush the throne and try to take Wysper hostage."

Castor, whose fur sticks out through gaps in his armor, gives Ghostdog a look of disgust before opening his arms towards me. "I know I'm not Greywolf, but you look like you could use a bit of comfort right now." I wish with all my heart he was Greywolf, but I quickly go to Castor, clinging to him as he wraps his furry arms around me. "It's alright," he says as a sob escapes my lips. "You're safe now."

Castor smells of leather, steel, and dog, which I find oddly comforting. "Apologies," I tell him as the trembling eases. "I never imagined Lord Cormac would turn on me in open court."

"Neither did Cormac," Ghostdog says as I release Castor, who lets me go. "He wasn't thinking but reacting." His weathered face turns thoughtful. "However, he did, so we can use it to our advantage." He walks around the shadow my throne has become, to where the long dagger is creeping through the air towards it. "We'll wait until things calm down a bit before putting you back."

Greywolf's katana is already rising, as is the point of Khulan's short spear. But Lord Cormac's guards have their swords halfway out of their sheathes, and other guards are reaching down to draw their weapons as well. "I need to stop this before someone gets hurt."

Ghostdog motions towards Titan, whose massive hand is clenching into a fist while the other has begun raising his Greatsword. "Look at the Ogri's face. He's ready to start roaring for everyone in the room to hold fast, and I guarantee they will." His gaze moves past the chaos to where shock and horror are evident upon the faces of the crowd beyond the clan chiefs. "Castor and I were watching from a shadowed spot where no one could see us, and heard you tell Lord Cormac's son you wanted to speak with him in private." Ghostdog's hand sweeps outward to encompass the room. "It doesn't get more private than in here."

I stare at him in disbelief. "You want to snatch away Little Boots like you did to me?" He nods, and I shake my head. "But people will notice."

"Not if Castor takes his place at the same time. He's standing in the center aisle, away from everyone else, who are focused on what's going on up front. The exchange will happen in less time than a heart beats." He glances at Castor. "Depending on how much convincing Little Boots needs, someone may notice. But who's going to start screaming, 'Look, Little Boots just turned into a dog'?" Castor rolls his eyes and I stifle the nervous giggle bubbling up as Ghostdog adds, "They'll think their eyes are playing tricks on them, especially when he changes right back. So long as Castor doesn't draw attention to himself, all will be well."

Castor growls, "What if someone does decide to start screaming just that?"

Ghostdog only shrugs. "Say they do. What's the worst that could happen?"

I fold my arms across my chest. "The druids put me on trial for witchcraft and sacrifice me among the sacred oaks."

"Okay, besides that."

I throw up my hands for a moment. "Ghostdog, I am beginning to understand Asena attitude towards you much better than before. This plan-"

"Will give you the best chance to break down Little Boots without anyone else being present," he says, cutting me off. "The druids already know you have a Shadow-walker, as well as strange powers, but they need you too badly right now to bring charges." He shrugs again. "If you win this war, they might try bringing charges later if Pan turns on you, but don't worry about crossing that river until you've crossed this one." He motions towards Little Boots. "Shall we?"

This plan is insane... and yet, Ghostdog is also right. I sigh. "After you."

Ghostdog smiles and leads us to a spot just behind Little Boots, whose shadow is on one foot, the other stepping backwards as if he has decided that remaining at court might be a little unhealthy for him right now. Ghostdog has Castor stand right beside the nobleman's shadow, and puts me at a spot several arm-lengths behind. "I'll throw him at your feet," Ghostdog says as he draws his own katana, "but you need to put the fear of you into him immediately, or this won't work. No mercy, unless he earns it." His eyes lock onto mine. "Can you do that?"

"Morgana told me when the Gauls overran the palace, they overwhelmed my mother, beating her with spear shafts, then raped my sister in front of her. After they finished, the soldiers cut my sister's throat before beating my mother to death. Then they cut off her head and hung it on a spike over the main gate. Little Boots likely knows all of this, though I do not see how he could have done anything about it without being killed himself." I can feel my heart covering over with ice as my face becomes the one my mother wore when pronouncing judgment. "No mercy unless he earns it."

Ghostdog nods, his face implacable as a Pictish chieftain as he turns toward the two figures, one real, one shadow, and extends his hand. A grey oval forms around them as both become real.

Then Ghostdog grabs Little Boots by the back of his tunic and hurls the man backwards as the grey oval vanishes. Castor becomes a detailed shadow as Little Boots stumbles and falls at my feet, Ghostdog pivoting towards him as the nobleman curses like a soldier. But then he gasps as Ghostdog puts the tip of his blade at the man's throat. "Welcome to the Shadowlands, son of Cormac," he says in a mocking voice. The nobleman's eyes go wide and Ghostdog gives him an evil smile. "And unless you'd like to remain here forever as a ghost in the Grey, I suggest you listen to your queen."

I clear my throat and he looks up with a fearful expression on his face. "My queen, you vanished. I-"

"To walk the Shadowlands is forbidden by the druids," I say in a cold voice, "except the druids already know I will use whatever is needed to save my people." I look down at him as if he were a wharf rat. "What the druids, or anyone else save my Shadow-walker, do not know, is that sixteen nights ago you rode with your father to meet with the Gauls."

Little Boots visibly swallows. "My queen-"

Ghostdog presses down lightly on the man's throat with the tip of his sword. "What did I tell you about listening to your queen?"

He gives Ghostdog a tiny nod, who eases off the pressure as I continue. "When I am finished and let you leave the Shadowlands and we both return to court, when I ask, you will swear to me that you knew nothing of your father's treason. I will claim to believe you. Then, when I assemble my own council, you will be made one of my advisers, and will counsel me on what the Gauls are planning. You do know, do you not?"

He hesitates, his body tensed... but then lets out his breath and goes limp. He nods. "My father had me with him since the beginning, likely to become the scapegoat he could pin his treason on should someone find out," he adds in a bitter voice.

"I suspected as much. You will inform me if the Gauls contact you after your father, his personal guards, and his squires, are all hung for treason." Little Boots gasps, but I ignore it as I go on. "Should I require it, you will become a two-faced Janus, giving the Gauls what I want them to hear while learning all you can. This will be a dangerous ploy for you, yet your rewards shall be great once we win this war."

Little Boots hesitates again. "Permission to speak?" I nod, and he says, "My queen, my father made common cause with the Gauls because he doesn't believe the Brittani Confederation stands a chance of winning. Balor One-eye promised him the petty kingship over Britannia once our forces were crushed."

Ghostdog snorts. "Cormac actually believed him? I've known Balor far longer than any of you have been alive, and among the Celestials, Camulos is the only friend he's got left... mostly because Camulos only cares about fighting and getting drunk. Balor's betrayed all the other Celestials still alive at one time or another."

Little Boots turns his head to look up at me. "My queen, is this true?"

I nod. "According to Lady Morgana, her mother has known Balor since ancient times, and he always searches for traitors among his enemies. Then he hangs them after the war is over."

"If you're willing to betray your own people," Ghostdog says, "he knows you'll betray him in an instant. I've watched Balor do this time and again, laughing as he strings them up."

Horror sweeps across Little Boots' face, the man trembling as the full truth is exposed, and I go down to one knee beside him. "If I thought we had no chance of winning, I would never have returned. We have allies the Gauls know nothing about, including Celestials who will fight for us." Horror fades, replaced by hope, and I raise a warning hand. "I can say nothing more of this until the time is ripe. However, there is another matter I wish to speak about. A betrothal, in fact."

His eyes widen. "With her majesty?"

A sardonic smile touches my lips. "I know better than to raise up one of the clan chiefs to High King, especially a wolf like you." He blinks, perhaps trying to work out if that was a complement or insult, as I go on. "I have spoken with my advisers, including Lady Morgana and the druids, who tell me that in cases where the queen cannot produce an heir of her own, she is permitted to adopt one."

His expression grows wary. "Whose child does my queen plan to adopt?"

"My dream is to eventually unite the Confederation with the Kingdom of the Picts, or at least strengthen the ties between the two. So, the best way I can see to make this dream real, is to have an heir with noble blood from both sides of the border. Lady Morgana tells me you have strong feelings for a Pictish princess. Is this true?"

He rears back slightly. "Fina? I... yes, we do have feelings for each other, but she's only a minor princess and my father was opposed-"

"Since you are going to become clan chief of the Brigantes before the sun sets, you can marry as you please. When we take up the question of succession, I will present to the clan chiefs my desire to adopt a newborn son or daughter of both bloods to be my heir, so long as both parents are noble. Along with several others to act as insurance against misfortune, of course."

"Of course." The expression on the man's face becomes calculating. "So... if Fina and I produce the first child?"

"That child would become my heir. I am also not going to quibble about the timing, so long as the child is born after my decree is accepted." I give Little Boots a knowing look. "And if the parents are legally married before the child is born."

He pales. "How did you know? We've only just found out... I begged her to keep the knowledge to herself."

Ghostdog snorts again. "You've got a lot to learn about Pictish women if you're going to marry one."

I rise to my feet. "Ghostdog, do you think her father will allow this union?"

"For the opportunity to have his granddaughter or grandson become the ruler of Britannia? I would bet gold Little Boots is going to have the shortest betrothal before marriage on record." He looks down at the nobleman. "Any oath you swear in the Shadowlands has to be kept, or you'll find yourself here for the rest of eternity."

I feel that Ghostdog is making that up, but when Little Boots glances up at me, I nod. "Normally, I would never ask a clan chief to swear his oath of loyalty to me here. Yet, under the circumstances..."

I let the words hang, and he says, "I understand. Permission to rise?" Ghostdog takes the sword blade from his throat, and Little Boots rises to his knees. He clasps his hands together and bows his head. "I swear that, from this moment forward, I will serve Queen Boudica, who was once known as Wysper, with true loyalty, and with honor. I will not shirk from any task she assigns me, even if it means my death, and I will give her true counsel at all times." He looks up at me. "Should I ever fail in this oath, I demand the creatures of the Shadowlands come and snatch me away for all time. This I swear."

Remembering how my mother used to do this, I place both hands upon his head. "You shall be like a son to me. Also," I add, for my mother never had a problem conceiving children, "your child with the Lady Fina will be my child, to be raised by her in safety until the Gauls have been pushed back into the sea. This, I do swear." I remove my hands and step back. "You may rise."

As Little Boots gets to his feet, there is a graveness to his face that had not been there before. "My queen, I shall not fail you. How do I leave the Shadowlands?"

With his sword, Greywolf motions to a spot beside Castor. "When I give the word, walk right past that fellow and stop when you're back in the real world. Your queen will return a few moments later." Little Boots nods, and as a grey oval forms, Ghostdog says, "Now." Little Boots strides through the oval as Ghostdog pushes it forward to encompass Castor.

Who becomes real as Little Boots turns into a shadow. "About time," he growls. "A lady just noticed me and I think she's about to scream." To his right, the shadow of a well dressed woman has her hand to her mouth as Castor says, "So, what happened?"

"Little Boots and the Brigantes now belong to Wysper," Ghostdog says.

I sigh. "Or they will, once I have hung the old clan chief." I am Brittani. I will do what needs to be done. "Come on," I say to them as I start towards the front. "We have work to do."