Greywolf

  For three days, time passed for Greywolf like a river of honey, slow and sweet.

  He and Wysper had been given a small tent set up within the inner, noble ring of tents, close to the river and away from everyone else. The tent was old, with patches held together with newer patches, filled with ripped cushions and faded blankets along with a dented brazier, burning dried sheep dung for warmth.

  Neither one of them cared. Ghostdog and Asena had been invited to stay with the Black Dragon clan camp close to Bukhara and had accepted, but they shared their evening meals with Prince Varsena’s family as did Wysper and Greywolf… which was about the only time anyone saw the betrothed couple.

  Greywolf realized on the first night that Wysper was no stranger to carnal passion, admitting to being intimate with other priestesses, including when she'd been back in Britannia. But he was the first boy she'd ever kissed. So he became her teacher, more or less, having learned a lot from the older women he’d made love to, while she quickly became an eager pupil.

  In between, they spent a lot of time talking. “According to the lore I was taught in Pan’s temple,” Wysper said in response to a question Greywolf had asked, “Pan was not our original god. The druids worshiped the spirits of the forest, while our people revered their ancestors.” She hesitated before going on. “I know Titan got upset when I mentioned necromancy being used by my people…”

  “I’m not Titan,” Greywolf said, brushing back Wysper’s golden haired forelock with one hand while the other supported his head where they lay together. “When you travel the Shadowlands, you see the living dead a lot, though most of the time they leave you alone. So Shamblers don’t bother me so much.”

  Wysper shuddered. “I cannot say the same. Anyway, deep inside my mother’s palace is the crypt where the skulls of the dead queens, and tribal kings, are placed in niches. At times, when the queen wants to speak with one of them, a Shadow druid is summoned and he lets the skull speak to her.”

  “Shadow druids?” Wysper nodded, and Greywolf said, “Are they part of the temple?”

  “Theirs is a magic practiced long before Pan came to our land,” Wysper replied, “and while most of the druids became members of Pan’s temple, Shadow druids remained separate. Supposedly they have a sacred grove far to the north in Pictland, though no one in the temple knows where it is.”

  “Huh. So… why did Pan show up in Britannia in the first place? Did the Gaulish druids that Asena told me about once, make him leave?”

  Wysper shook her head as she sat up, wrapping the blanket around her naked body for warmth. “Pan was originally from Etrusca. Again, according to the lore, he originally tried to establish relations with the druids in Gaul but was rebuffed, and sailed across the channel to us instead. Our druids listened to what Pan said and accepted his wisdom, becoming part of his temple but also keeping many of the old ways.”

  “I’ll bet silver the druids in Gaul didn’t like that.”

  “You would win the bet. They called us apostates and broke off all relations, then took to raiding our coasts, which our warriors responded to by raiding theirs.” Wysper sighed. “Then the Etruscans invaded Gaul. They conquered the tribes, one by one, then killed all the druids they could find and burned their sacred groves. Those who fled north were given a choice to either accept Pan or leave the island.”

  “Did many of them do that?”

  “A few,” Wysper replied with a shrug, “but most either went on to Eire, the island to the west of us, or went east towards Germania. I doubt many of them survived.”

  “Huh.” Greywolf sat up as well, not bothering to cover up. “So, after they finished conquering Gaul, did they cross over to your island?”

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  Wysper shook her head. “Their general was recalled to the capitol, probably to have him executed, so he marched his legions south and became their first emperor. No, it was Claudius the Wise who brought Etrusca to our island.”

  “Asena never mentioned him.”

  “Never mentioned…” Wysper gave him a strange look. “Did Asena not provide you with a tutor?”

  Greywolf snorted. “The only education she gave me was how to fight and survive in the wild lands. I learned how to speak Greco, Roma, and the Northern tongue as a young boy, and figured out how to read Greco with help from some of the people we’d stayed with. Papa would’ve taught me himself if he wasn’t always needed other places.” He shrugged. “Any history I’ve picked up has been from the stories Asena and others like Titan have told me.”

  Wysper seemed to take this in stride as she said, “Alright, Emperor Claudius was a shrewd, ambitious man who pretended to be meek so he could survive the madness that preceded him, successfully plotting to have his nephew assassinated, though it was never proven. He came north with his legions and met with Pan’s High Priest, the two of them working out a compromise to have Etrusca gradually take control of the Brittani people, while allowing them to keep their religion and the druids. A lot of people were resentful and kept the old ways, except in the very south of the island, and from time to time a tribe would rebel. But it was not until their empire began to break apart that my mother was able to throw the Etruscans out for good.”

  “And now papa told us they’ve allied with the Picts. Asena’s mentioned them several times, calling them some of the fiercest warriors she’s ever known.”

  “So fierce that the Brittani rarely raided their lands. Fortunately for us, their clans fight among themselves a lot, or with their cousins on Eire.”

  “You were pretty fierce yourself,” Greywolf said, “the way you stood up to the Shadow Knight.”

  Wysper shuddered, pulling the blanket tighter around her body. “Not fierce. Steadfast, maybe, as all my people are supposed to be. At least that is what my tutors, and later the priestesses of Pan after I entered the temple, instilled in me. We are Brittani. We endure.” Before Greywolf could ask her something else, Wysper said, “I’m sitting here talking about myself when I really want to find out more about you. Where did you grow up?”

  Greywolf snorted again. “Where didn’t I. After I was born, we lived in a village in Germania, where it bordered the Gothic tribes, until Wotan discovered Asena’s son was also Ghostdog’s and kicked us out. After that, Asena did mercenary work, guarding caravans and occasionally signing on with someone for a season.” He brightened. “I actually got to live at a palace in Capeum when the king of Bospourus went to war against the kingdom of Caucasi and hired Asena to lead the mercenaries. The king and most of the nobles were with the army, but the queen thought it important that I learn how to read Greco, and had her ladies teach me.”

  “Fascinating,” Wysper said, leaning forward a bit. “Where else?”

  “Inns when Asena wasn’t working, tents, the back of a caravan wagon.” He suddenly smiled. “Speaking of wagons, one summer, Asena got hired by the Scythian Horse-lords to get rid of a troll living in a cave near their sacred mountain, which was actually a fort from the Daemo war, according to Asena. The Scythians travel in great wagons across the steppe plains, and we shared a wagon with one of the prince’s concubines－”

  “With a concubine?” Wysper said, rearing back. “Where was the prince?”

  “Ah, with the others, I guess.” Shite, now you’ve done it. “The prince was hoping I’d get her pregnant with a Shadow-walker child. Asena didn’t mention it was impossible unless we did it in the Shadowlands, only told him it was extremely unlikely since I’d just begun to mature and become interested in girls.”

  “But… you were only a boy.”

  “She was just a few summers older than I was,” Greywolf said quickly, “so it was alright. Asena thought the whole thing funny. Anyway, I learned to ride horses, the real kind, not just hybrids, and the prince taught me how to ride a Warghorse. They only had a few dozen that the nobles rode, but the pack accepted me so fast that none of the Scythians could believe it. I used to go hunting with them.”

  “Oh.” Wysper seemed a little disquieted, but gamely said, “Did Asena hunt with them as well?”

  Greywolf gave her a wide smile. “Asena terrified them. The pack all went down on their haunches, whining, and wouldn’t get back up again until she left. She thought that was hilarious.”

  Wysper smiled back. “She certainly terrified me. So, did you kill that troll?”

  “The day after we arrived. We came up with the technique we’ve used ever since, for me to step out of the Shadowlands and get it to chase me, popping in and out of the Grey to stay ahead, then getting out of the way once it’s outside so Asena can kill it. After Asena had carved out its heart and eaten it for the mana nodes…” Wysper made a face and Greywolf grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty disgusting. Anyway, after they’d burned the troll’s body, the prince and the other nobles took us with them to their sacred mountain.”

  Wysper leaned forward again. “What was the inside like? A regular fortress?”

  Greywolf shook his head. “It was… strange.