Amazonia - Breaking the Oath

Wind Dancer was right: when you barely feel the passing of time, no journey takes very long.

Together, we traveled north and west, the lands covered more and more by wild woods, until we reached the coast and followed it westward beside the restless northern sea. When I was a girl, I was transported across the middle sea of the old Etruscan Empire in a slave ship, yet that sea was nothing like this one. Wind Dancer told me if we turned and headed north again, the sea would become ice, which seems strange. But I have no reason to doubt her.

We continued until reaching a place where white cliffs could be seen far off in the distance. She banked, heading north across the water, and I gripped her bony ridges tight as we flew over the waves. I wasn’t afraid of falling into the water, of course; I just wanted to make sure I remained on Wind Dancer’s back, that’s all. Keep telling yourself that, Az, and maybe you’ll believe it.

The white cliffs grew larger and larger until we reached the opposite shore, Wind Dancer banking again and following the coast for a time before banking once more.

Now, we’re circling the ruins of a castle, an ancient fortress on a cliff overlooking the restless sea. Below, where the sheer rock meets the waves, there’s an opening in the cliff wide enough to drive a pair of wagons through, sheltered in a little cove with a small beach of stone in front of the entrance. “That is the Wise Woman’s cave,” Wind Dancer says over her shoulder. “Hold on tight.”

I grip her bony ridges even tighter as she turns sharply and drops towards the flat stones, pulling up at the last moment and landing in front of the cave. I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “I’m glad you know what you’re doing.”

“Silly goose,” she replies with affection in her voice. “Climb down and I will introduce you to the Wise Woman of Tintagel Castle.” I slide off her back and walk beside Wind Dancer as she folds her wings and starts towards the cave, gravel crunching under my feet as waves lap against the rocks a few horse-lengths away. We reach the opening and she calls out, “Mother Vexx, I’ve brought Amazonia to meet you.”

We walk together into the cave. Instead of being dark and dank, as a cave should be, the air is scented with cinnamon from the lit beeswax candles on the ledges, in the niches, and all around an altar made of volcanic black stone, pitted and rough. A woman who seems old as time itself stands behind it. “Amazonia, Knight of the Shadowlands,” she says in a voice strong and warm, “you are a blessing come true for us.”

She walks around the altar and comes towards us on mouse quiet feet as Wind Dancer steps aside. The Wise Woman opens her arms. “Come to me, daughter, and let me embrace you.”

This isn’t like me at all, yet it feels natural to stride up to her with open arms of my own and exchange a firm, yet gentle hug. After a few moments we let go, and I smile down at her. “Thank you for sending Wind Dancer to meet me. I… never expected the Shadowlands to be anything like this.”

Mother Vexx chuckles as she pats my arm. “I understand, and so do you, now. The true nature of the Shadowlands is beauty, and love for those destined to be its guardians, especially the Shadow Knight who is among the Grey’s strongest.” She cocks her head. “Do you understand why the Shadowlands has to be guarded, especially from those who have power over the golden mist they call the Grey?”

I shook my head. “I don’t, any more than I know why they can’t see the Shadowlands the same way we do.”

Mother Vexx sighs. “The only way to see the Shadowlands the way we do, is to become one of us. As to why it has to be guarded,” she says as she motions behind her towards the pitted altar, “do you know why the stone looks the way it does?”

I shrug. “I’ve seen pieces of volcanic rock before. I thought the altar was made of it.”

She shakes her head. “The stone was pitted by blood when Wind Dancer was injured almost to death by a Shadow-walker named Ghostdog.”

I whirl on my friend. “That’s horrible! Are you alright?”

Wind Dancer nods. “The tendrils of golden mist heal as well as feed us. Mother Vexx brought the stones my blood had pitted to her cave, and set them up so you could see yourself what the invaders do to us.” A shudder passes through her black feathered body. “They trample the grass when they march through it, turning it grey and lifeless. Their feet stain the water, their stench fouls the air, and it takes time for the trees of golden mist to heal the land again.”

Mother Vexx gives her a sympathetic look. “Worst of all, had Wind Dancer died, she would have been condemned to a life in the other world as a ghost. Fortunately, the Shadow-walker withdrew without killing her, but seven of her sisters were not so lucky.”

I gasp. “Greywolf told me seven ravens follow his father wherever he goes. Are they…?” I trail off as the Wise Woman nods, and I exhale sharply. “Mother Vexx, I’m sorry, truly sorry, that I ever swore an oath for Ghostdog’s son to come rescue me. Is there a way to break it?”

“Come with me.” Mother Vexx snaps her fingers; at once, all the lit candles on the blocks of blood pitted stone rise into the air and float over until they’re surrounding us. My eyes have gone wide, but I hold my tongue and follow her farther back into the cave where a shadowed opening like a doorway has been hewn out of the rock wall.

As we get close, I can see stone stairs lead up into darkness. We stop beside the bottom step, several candles floating past us to provide light as I poke my head into the entrance. The stairs spiral up. “Does this lead to the castle?”

“To a sally door just outside the walls,” Mother Vexx replies. She glances back at Wind Dancer. “Will you wait for Amazonia here? She must break the oath herself, without any of us interfering.”

Wind Dancer nods. “Mother Vexx, you know me too well. Amazonia, I will wait for you by the cave entrance for as long as it takes.” I nod, and wave at her before following the Wise Woman up the stone steps, my boots echoing inside the stairway as it spirals upward. Her footsteps remain silent.

We reach the top where an outcrop of rock overlooking the water sits beside the castle’s stone wall. She walks through the shadow of a thick door with a sharp arch, and I follow her into a long, rectangular room. A half dozen ghostly shadows of warriors in strange armor are picking up plates and examining candlesticks, one of them placing a shadow goblet into a ghostly bag. It’s like they’re sacking the castle. “Mother Vexx, what’s going on?”

She glances at the ghostly warriors. “A great battle was just fought here, and the victors are helping themselves to the spoils. Follow me and I will show you something.” I’m mystified, yet hold my tongue as I walk behind her through the room and out the opposite door, both of us careful not to brush against the shadows of the living. We enter a courtyard with more ghostly warriors, and she leads us up an empty flight of stone stairs to the battlements above. We reach the top and she motions to a gap between the stones. “Look out to sea.”

Moving to the empty place, I stare out over the water. Dozens of ghostly ships, a couple warships with single banks of oars but the others merchant galleys, are sailing away from the castle. Sticking my head out and looking down towards a strip of beach to my right, more ships seem to be burning. “The losers are fleeing for their lives.”

“Those are the remnants of the Gaulish army, who are leaving Britannia for good. Before you arrived, I probed the mind of the garrison commander, who was fighting a rearguard battle to buy time for the rest to escape.”

I pull back from the battlement to look at her. “You probed his mind?”

“Like this.” Between other gaps in the battlements are more ghostly warriors who seem to be cheering as they watch the Gauls sail away. Mother Vexx walks up beside one of them, cups her hand, and carefully touches it to the shadow’s forehead.

She hisses in pain as her face contorts. Then she lets go, her features relaxing as she rubs the palm of her hand with the other one. “Knowledge always comes with a price. This mortal is a Briton soldier who is happy to see the Gauls finally leaving. He does not like Attila and the Horde warriors warriors who helped them.” I give a start at Attila’s name as she adds, “However, he understands this victory could not have happened without the barbarian’s help.”

“Attila’s here?” She nods, and I say, “Is Greywolf here as well?”

Mother Vexx’s smile is the cat’s with a mouse close by and unaware of her presence. “He is, though not in a form you would recognize. When his father created him, Ghostdog crafted his son to not only be a Celestial, but a Warg of the Shadowlands as well.”

I give her a skeptical look. “A Celestial and a Warg? How’s that possible?”

Her expression darkens. “Would that we knew. However, the boy has a weakness you can exploit to not only break the oath, but to remove an enemy by turning him into an ally. At the moment, Greywolf is a hybrid Warg-Celestial, but the moment he lays eyes on you he will remember the oath, and enter the Shadowlands to bring you back.”

“Then what?”

The Wise Woman’s expression turns sly. “Before he sees you, I shall craft you a sword to replace the Runesword left behind in the mortal world. Take it and slay him.”

I draw back. “Slay him? I like Greywolf, even though he’s a Shadow-walker. He was a friend to me, once.”

“And will remain one after his mortal death. Amazonia,” her voice becoming that of a mother gently rebuking her child, “slaying Greywolf in the Shadowlands will return him to his Shadow self. Instead of a Celestial, he shall become a monstrous Shadow Wolf who will see the Shadowlands the same way you and I do. Once he realizes the truth, Greywolf shall become your ally as well as your friend.”

Mother Vexx lays her hand on my arm. “Think of it; you shall patrol the Shadowlands on Wind Dancer’s back, while the Great Wolf runs tirelessly beneath you. Even the Celestial Dragons themselves will tremble at the sound of your names.” Slyness steals over her voice. “There is more. At times, the walls between the worlds grows thin, and the influence of the golden mist trees extends much farther into the mortal worlds than normal. You will be able to take the fight to them.”

“I will make the mortals remember why they fear us,” I say as I slowly nod. I give her a sharp look. “You’re sure Greywolf will remember me when he changes?”

She pats my arm as she lets go. “Not only will he remember, but the love of an older sister with a younger brother will blossom and grow between you both. I would not tell you this were it not true.”

Before, I always expected to be lied to, yet now I somehow know she’d never do that to me or anyone else who belongs to the Shadowlands. Yes, belongs is the right word. I belong here. “How am I to lure him in?”

“Follow me.” Mother Vexx heads back down the stone stairs to the courtyard as I follow, both of us avoiding the ghostly shapes around us, and stride out the open front gate.

A path leads up a nearby hill, and as we climb, I look up. Ruins surround a large tree of golden mist. “You want me to remain close to the tree so someone will see me. They will bring Attila…”

“And Attila will bring Greywolf.” We reach the top and she stops to look up at me. “A mortal known to the soldiers as the Red Witch rides Greywolf as her mount, and will likely be on him when he shows. If Greywolf carries her into the Shadowlands with him, leave her and slay Greywolf quickly, before his Shadow Wolf realizes what you are doing. Once the boy is dead, his body will dissolve into the beast’s, and Greywolf will be ours.”

“What about the Red Witch?”

Mother Vexx gives me a wicked smile. “Leave her to me. Attila and his barbarians have been making use of the Shadowlands for their own ends, so I plan to play with her for a time while they watch. She will die slowly and in pain, the Grey will heal her, and I shall begin again. By the time I grow bored with her, the mortals will never want to foul our beloved Shadowlands ever again.”

I share her smile as we walk towards the golden tree. Mother Vexx halts several sword-lengths away from the place where the two worlds begin to merge, and grasps a shining tendril floating by. She works the golden mist as if it were clay, forming it into a crude, two-handed sword which she continues to mold, smoothing the edges as she makes them sharp.

She frowns at the sword before handing it to me, hilt first. “This is not my best work. However, it will do for now. Once the oath is broken and Greywolf is on our side, I will take my time and craft you a sword worthy of the Knight of the Shadowlands.”

Stepping several paces away from her, I make a few practice cuts. “The sword is fine. It’s so light, the Runesword was a lead weight in comparison.”

Mother Vexx’s trying not to smile, but she seems pleased at my words. “Amazonia, stand near the tree so they can see you. It may be a while before anything happens, but be ready for when it does.”

“A slave in the mortal lands can only survive if she learns how to be patient. I will wait for as long as it takes.” The Wise Woman pats my arm again before I stride towards the misty tree, stop in front of it, and plant my new sword point down into the ground. I begin to wait. If he were here, Dancer would laugh at me, for he knows patience has never been one of my strong points. Yet, right now I’m content to just stand still as expressions of surprise creep over the faces of the ghostly shadows close by, their fingers slowly pointing as several seem to shout.

The ghosts come and go while I wait… hold on, the ghostly shadow of a large beast’s approaching at a creeping gallop. Yes, it’s a Warg large enough for Titan to ride, with the shadow of a person in armor riding on his back. I smile, raising my new sword into a guarding stance as the ghostly Warg reaches the place where the worlds mingle and picks up speed.

They become solid as they enter the Shadowlands… wait, that’s an old man on Greywolf’s back. Ghostdog? No time; the Shadow Wolf and the young man split apart into their separate selves as Ghostdog leaps off and lands on his feet with his son sprawled out on the ground before him. He’s not a threat so I ignore him as I raise my sword. “Apologies,” I tell Greywolf as he stares up at me with wide eyes. “I’m staying here, and you’re staying with me.” I slash the sword blade downward…

…as Ghostdog pulls his son away as if the young man’s light as Wind Dancer’s feathers. My sword strikes stone, throwing me off balance as Ghostdog slings his son over his shoulder, turns, and runs past the tree. “Hel’s hairy eyeballs,” I snarl as Ghostdog races into the doorway of a grey building that hadn’t been there a moment before. “I’m going to kill you both.” Ghostdog vanishes inside and I race after him, the Shadow Wolf howling behind me, drowning out whatever Mother Vexx is yelling as I run through the arched entrance.

A door slams shut behind me. I ignore it and take the spiraling grey stairs two at a time, barely noticing that the walls and doors I’m passing are grey as well, as I follow Ghostdog’s running footsteps. Above me, the footsteps stop as I reach the first open door. Without hesitating I run through it.

I’m in a round room with a tapestry covering the walls, floor to ceiling, and Ghostdog’s standing with his back to the cloth. A katana sword’s in his hands and Greywolf’s huddled at his feet. I give him a wolfish smile. “There’s nowhere else to run, old man.” I stalk forward.

The golden sword in my hands dissolves back into mist. “Welcome to the Tower of Time,” Ghostdog says, a sardonic smile spreading across his face as I gape at my empty hands. “You are standing inside the only place which exists both outside of the Shadowlands and all the worlds connected to it. Now, will you listen to what I’ve got to say, or do I have to send you back without any explanations?”

Send me back? I stare at him in horror a moment, then turn around and flee for the doorway.

The doorway’s gone. It’s now a round wall covered by the tapestry, and as I realize just what a fool I’ve become by not listening when Mother Vexx was screaming at me, behind my back, Ghostdog sighs. “I know you want to return to the Shadowlands,” he says as I whirl around, “but I cannot let you. Even if you hadn’t made an oath with my son, an oath you made sure he was forced to keep, you’re far too dangerous a Shadow creature to let run loose.”

“You don’t understand. The Shadowlands aren’t anything like the way you see them, it’s a paradise-”

“So I’ve heard,” he says, cutting me off in a voice dry as old bones. “What you don’t understand, is that for the poor souls trapped in the Grey, the Shadowlands are worse than being trapped in Hel’s mythical underworld.” With the point of his sword, he motions at the tapestry. “Look closely at this spot on the tapestry. That’s where you belong.” I glance at the place he’s pointing at.

Then I move closer to get a better look. This isn’t just a piece of embroidered cloth, because the tiny icons on its surface are slowly moving. “What is this thing?”

“A map of our world’s future,” Ghost replies, sheathing his sword. “If you know how to access the Tower of Time, which can be found anywhere the dead, grey trees exist, you can enter and view the possible future of this world or any other.”

“Papa,” Greywolf says in a weak voice as he stares up at his father, “are you telling us you can see the future?”

“The future most likely to happen for this world if nothing changes,” he replies. “In the next room,” motioning to his left, “you can see the possible future for the Daemo, while on the other side,” motioning to his right, “the fate of the Celestials is displayed. Any world connected to the Grey has a corresponding room with a tapestry just like this one.” He moves close to the tapestry. “Amazonia, come here and see what’s going to happen if I don’t return both of you to the world where you belong.”

I move closer still. When Titan was planning our route, I saw the Imperial map he had of the Eastern Empire and the Sasnayam lands, as well as areas beyond both. This tapestry depicts the same, and as I peer at the spot, the area grows larger, showing me the province of Susa where I was killed. There’s an icon for the Sasnayam army of a winged lion, but the lion’s injured, and as I watch, pieces begin breaking off the lion until it dissolves completely.

Chasing after it is the Horde icon of a white boar… hold on, the boar’s beginning to turn a putrid color, like the boar’s become rotten as festering meat, as it rampages through Susa. Now it’s shedding little white boars, which head back east, but the putrid colored boar’s growing larger… and larger still as it rampages through Sasnayam lands, leaving little sickly boars in the city icons it’s moving through. It reaches Tesiphon, the capitol… the city falls, burning, and the blighted boar moves on.

Now it’s heading north, but a grey warg icon is rushing to meet it. The two icons fight… and the grey warg shatters, the blight boar moving on as tiny wolf icons flee. Now the blight colored boar’s moving north and west, devouring city after city as it shatters the double-headed eagle icons sent to meet it.

The rotted boar reaches Konstanopolis and I look away to Ghostdog. “What does this mean?”

He grimaces. “Long ago, when the Etruscan Empire was young and still somewhat idealistic, I saw the army icons of Carthago change color and shape to match what you’re seeing now. When I investigated, I found that Tanit had used the secrets of the Daemo Princes to turn Carthago’s king and many of its soldiers into Shadowmen. They can only eat human flesh, drinking blood as their wine which makes them merry, and if let unchecked, will turn the world into a slave pit far worse than anything you can imagine.”

I don’t want to believe this, not for a moment. “How could I make any difference whether this happens or not?” I shake my head in frustration. “If that’s the fate of the world, I don’t want to go back.”

“It doesn’t have to be the future,” Ghostdog says, “because one person can change it. I don’t know what you’re supposed to do, or if it will work, but I do know this much. If you go back to the Shadowlands and take my son with you, this future is guaranteed.”

“Why should I? For the first time in my life, I’ve found a place where I belong, a place where I’m not anyone’s slave but a guardian for the land I love.”

“Wysper killed herself saving the land she loved,” Greywolf snarls at me. Startled, I look down as he stares at me with narrowed eyes. “She sacrificed herself for her people, and I won’t let her die in vain because you’re being selfish.”

“Selfish?” I snap. “What has the world ever done for me?”

“Given you a reason to struggle,” Ghostdog says. “A reason to fight, a reason to win and enjoy the fruits of your victories.” He cocks his head. “What will you do, Knight of the Shadowlands, when the Shadowmen rule the world? You will patrol the earth and the air of the Grey, searching for enemies. Yet, there will be none. Shadowmen have no use for the Grey; indeed, they fear it, for they cannot exist outside of the mortal realm. So no one will dare violate its borders.” He sighs again. “You will have your paradise, Amazonia. Peace and quiet… for all eternity.”

All at once it’s too much to bear, and I drop to my knees. “Damn you.” I look up. “Damn you both.”

“How do you think I feel?” Greywolf snarls. “Wysper’s dead, and Asena died taking out Balor One-eye. They were my world, and all I want right now is to be left alone, not fighting Gauls as a beast that wants to kill and keep killing.” He looks up at his father, the pain on his face raw and ragged. “I won’t do it anymore. I won’t live like that again, not for you, Attila, Hypam, or anybody else.”

Ghostdog lays his hand on Greywolf’s shoulder. “I promised you that when the Gauls were driven out of Britannia, and the legend of the Grey Warg would never be forgotten by Attila’s Khanate, I would return you to your Celestial self and not change you back.” He looks down at me. “I’m glad I waited.”

“Well, I’m not,” I snap back.

Instead of getting angry, Ghostdog chuckles. “I daresay. But I will say this: if you survive Khan Timur, who’s likely to have already been converted into a Shadowman by Tanit, and survive the war with Attila’s Khanate, you may be surprised at what’s in store for you.”

I shake my head. “A life of slavery when Emperor Konstantine goes back on his promises, even execution. But you’re right,” I add, suppressing a sigh. “Better death than an eternity of boredom.” Glancing at Greywolf, a rare twinge of conscience touches me. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry Wysper’s dead. Asena, too.”

“Gratitude,” he replies. Then he stretches out his hand. “When we meet on the battlefield, I’m going to kill Timur if Attila doesn’t do it first.”

I reach out and clasp his forearm in a warrior’s grip. “And I will be honor bound to defend him until my Runesword shatters and my last oath’s fulfilled. Don’t get yourself killed before then.”

Greywolf snorts, some of his normal good humor returning to his face. “Just make sure Timur doesn’t put you in the cookpot, either.”

“Are you jesting?” I say as we let go. “Tough and stringy as I am?” We share a smile, then I look up at Ghostdog. “Just so you know, I’m never forgiving you for this. How do I get back?”

He motions at the tapestry. “Think of the Runesword, then touch the tapestry. It will do the rest.” I rise to my feet, the image of the grey sword firm in my mind as Ghostdog says, “Az? One day you’ll thank me.”

“I seriously doubt that,” I mutter as I keep the Runesword’s image in my head and touch the cloth.

Then yelp as it sucks me in.