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I do not know what was behind the armistice. I know only that it was the Heacharids who called it. It was after the sacking of Alissos, on the isle of Elepetra, a stunning loss that had the Axichans reeling. I would have thought the Heacharids would want to sustain their momentum, and consume the rest of the island. Yet, for the first time since spear shattered against shield on Thessandreia, they wished to talk.

Despite their reputation as zealots, I found the amazons to be quite rational in their outlook. They agreed to the peace conference at once. I learned of this while upon the waves, hunting for another Heacharid prize. Naeri’s Revenge had been joined by the ship that had rescued me from my little island paradise, and another ship I had taken since. My own small fleet of privateers.

An Axichan ship found us, a messenger aboard bearing a letter to me. The letter described the armistice and requested my presence as part of the amazon delegation. The Heacharid Empire was offering a discussion for terms of a lasting peace.

Kucyone, that old salt, laughed. “Now I know Axichis has fallen to the cold. An outlander at an official meeting.”

“If I’m not allowed to sink their ships, I might as well make myself useful. Take us in. Let’s show our strength.”

We sailed south to Elepetra, making landfall at Gylgara. Naeri’s Revenge sailed into port, while Sudden Squall and The Huntress remained offshore. I disembarked with my hetairoi and a small collection of shambling stormwights.

“I’ll wait here for you then,” Kucyone sighed. “Look at what my career has become.”

“You were a captain,” I said, then nodded at the two captured ships outside the mouth of the bay. “Now you are an admiral.”

Kucyone chuckled, packing her pipe. “Well would you look at that.”

Gylgara reminded me far too much of Megannis for comfort. Just as the streets of Megannis had become home to shantytowns of refugees when its island’s largest city had fallen, so too had Gylgara’s. Yet these refugees were not as desperate. With the armistice came the suspension of the blockade, and traders had flooded into Axichis on ships heavy with food. I had even managed to get my letters out, one to Zhahllaia and Sarakiel in Castellandria, one to Tarasynora in far Iarveiros, one to Lyta Sullac in Mairault, and one to Allegeth, wherever she might be found. Though I did not hold out much hope that I would receive one in turn, the mere act of speaking to them soothed my shattered nerves.

As I strode through the town with my bodyguards, the undead forms of the stormwights behind, I reflected upon the first time I had walked through an amazon city. I had been looked upon with curiosity, resentment, even fear. Now, I was known. The amazons who saw me, the artisans, the old ones, the children, the farmers, they knew who I was. I was their wizard, the terror of the Turquoise Sea. I was not one of them, but I was welcome.

We made our way through Gylgara and into the highlands beyond. Here was the great camp of the island’s defenders. The battles took place in the interior, but this was the rally point. Repurposed farm buildings and lines of tents were expected, but what surprised me were the newly-made structures of wood and mud. The amazons had created lasting infrastructure, preparing for a long battle. If these negotiations went well, it could see the end of fighting on Elepetra. On every part of Axichis. These structures would be a curious remnant of a time of blood.

I reported to General Eomnestra, who smirked at the sight of the stormwights behind me. “The Heacharids won’t like them,” she observed. She was younger than most of the generals I have met thus far, a powerful woman in her early middle age. Her dark hair was cut short, and her turquoise eyes were keen.

“They never seem to.”

She laughed, and her quartermaster assigned us a tent to wait for the short journey to where the actual talks would be held.

I was heading for the tent when I heard my name being called. I turned and found my adventuring companion Velena Grimm jogging over to meet me. The witch’s voluptuous curves had been somewhat tamed by the privations of war. She was still heavy of breast and hip, but I had never seen her so small. She was dressed in a chiton of amazon design, and it was the only time I had seen her outside of her normal black garb. Her charms and fetishes were gone, and were it not for her other markings, I would have simply thought her to be yet another Axichan iasos.

Her creamy complexion had not changed, and her long, black hair was pulled back in a local style. Most distinctive were the tattoos that crawled over her curves. Black and flowing script marked her as a witch. The darkest were about her eyes. Those eyes were hypnotic, so bright as to be nearly colorless.

When our eyes met, she broke into a weary smile. “Belromanazar, I have missed you.”

We embraced. My mouth found hers, and though she was surprised by the ardor of my kiss, she returned it. escort bayan beşiktaş “Velena,” I murmured into her mouth. “I have missed you too.”

“And you, Oddrin,” she said to my familiar. The night eft sat on my shoulder, preening as he was addressed. “Good to see you.” She looked to me. “Why are you here?”

“The peace talks,” I explained. “I am to be part of the delegation.”

“The Turquoise Tempest makes landfall.”

“Is this what they call me?”

She gave me a crooked smile. “I have been calling you that. It has not caught on.”

I laughed. “I should be grateful.”

“Where is your staff?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Already?”

She shot me a playfully annoyed look. “Spire. Where is Spire?”

“At the bottom of the Turquoise Sea, I’m afraid. Lost it months ago. Tell me, what’s behind this armistice?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been on Elepetra since we arrived, first in Alissos and when that was taken, we retreated to the central highlands. Then those became the battlefield, and I am here. The hospital can’t be too far from the front lines. We iasoi might be good, but we have our limits.”

“You’re an iasos, then.”

“I am a witch, but the two vocations have much in common. And over our time in the war, I have learned many of their secrets and taught many of mine. All I know about the armistice is that one day we were at war, and the next we were told that the Heacharids had paused their advance. The relief we felt at the hospital…no longer were we merely sewing warriors together to throw back onto the front lines, we could heal our patients.”

“For as long as this lasts.”

“You do not think this will lead to a lasting treaty?”

“The Heacharids want to consume the world. Their appetite would not suddenly be sated.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“A Heacharid trap, perhaps? I think I am marching to a different kind of battle. Another of their armies to slaughter.”

Velena stared into my eyes, then one of her hands caressed my cheek. “My sweet wizard. Come with me.” At the time, I did not know what she meant. I thought perhaps she found my valor alluring. I know now that Velena saw a deeper wound in me, and she foolishly thought to mend it. She could not have known what it would take. And even then, after my time in exile, I still have a scar across my soul from this damnable war.

Velena took me to her tent and embraced me, her kisses fast and desperate. Her pale eyes were half-mad with grief. She nibbled on her lip, a thought behind her pale eyes, for a moment unsure she would give it breath. “Bel? Please…can you pretend you are a woodsman? Just for now, that you are a simple man? That I am your wife, and that you are putting a baby in me?”

I stroked her cheek. I tasted the fantasy and it was sweet. “And you are a baker,” I murmured. “We have never left our tiny corner of the world. We never needed to. Our love is all we ever needed.”

“Yes,” she purred, her eyes softening as she sank into the fantasy. “We need only each other.” She and dropped her chiton. For the first time, I could count her ribs. My robes followed, and I suspect she had similar thoughts. The war had melted from us all that was unnecessary, leaving only what it took for the cause.

I guided her to the cot, my lips leaving hers only long enough to murmur declarations of love. We were speaking for our characters, this woodsman and his wife the baker. In that moment, we were in love. She begged me to fill her with life, and I slid into her sex easily.

I looked into her eyes as I sank into her again and again. Her sex held me in a soft embrace as she rolled her hips back into mine. Her words turned to mush, begging me to fill her. I did, thrusting into her as deeply as I could, flooding her womb with my seed. Our eyes never left one another. She touched my cheek while I was still inside her.

And then the fantasy was gone. I was no longer a woodsman, and she no longer a baker. We were both parts of a machine of war, and this was a mere momentary comfort. She was still my friend and I held her, wishing I could get back to that place where we were truly someone else.

She sighed, “When we came to this war, I foolishly thought we would remain together as Mythseekers.”

“I thought the same, but they saw our specialties and gave each of us our orders.”

“I would not have thought your specialty would be privateer.”

“Nor I.” I kissed her. “Is Xeiliope here? I thought she was on Elepetra.”

“She was. We had our time together, but she has since been dispatched to Khedes.”

“And Alia?”

Velena shook her head. “I have not heard from her since the last time we were all together.”

We did not have enough time together, but it was something. I held her closely, but we couldn’t get back to being a simple woodsman and his wife the baker.

The following day, I was summoned to General Eomnestra’s tent. Outside, istanbul escort pairs of hetairoi stood sentry, marking this as a gathering of important personages. Einoë and Kallea took their places outside, and I went into the tent.

Eomnestra, commander of the fight on Elepetra, stood in the middle, beside a table with a map of the island over it. A small desk was pushed against one side of the tent, near a modest cot, and a rack of weapons.

I would get to know the others in the room well, as they were the rest of the delegation to the peace talks.

The most important was our diplomat, Gaiadia. She served as an archona on Melisis, sharpening her intellect and her tongue on the administrative duties of the most important island of Axichis. She appeared in her late middle age, with masses of dark curly hair pinned up, and a healthy figure in a plain chiton. One would never have known her importance by look alone, and that was how Gaiadia liked it.

Kluorera and Dioxyroë were her envoys. Kluorera was an elder, with iron gray hair and a stooped posture. She was skilled at seeing what others could not, a lifetime of experience in seeing through deception. Dioxyroë was far younger, but a prodigy when it came to the art of negotiation.

Ikapeia was a giant, the top of her head nearly scraping the ceiling of the tent. I had never seen an amazon of her size, a full head taller than me, and weighing as much as three of me. Her muscles were like rocks, and yet she was deceptively fast. I would later witness her in battle, and I do not believe I have ever seen her equal. Ikapeia and I were intended as a show of strength, two of the most visible champions of the amazon cause.

Teidestra was an academic. Her purpose was to understand the ramifications of any obligations that might arise. A historian of the amazon people, she was the closest thing our delegation had to a mind, while Kluorera was closer to our sense. Yet Teidestra was still young for an amazon. Of all the delegation, she was my closest friend.

Gaiadia introduced all of us, making each one understand that we were all vital components of the delegation. “Now, it is likely you are wondering why this is occurring.”

Ikapeia snorted. “Not especially. The Heacharid warslaves are pathetic. They are learning that their numbers are not the equal of our skill.”

“Perhaps. We do not know why the Heacharids offered this negotiation.”

“Do you think this is a trap?” I asked. It was hard to forget the price the Heacharids had put on my head. I would be quite valuable for any who could defeat me.

“The thought crossed my mind, but no. I believe this is a genuine offer. Perhaps we have managed to present a butcher’s bill so high even the Heacharid Empire balks to pay. We believe that a true end to this war is on the table in these negotiations, and I have been asked to see that happens.”

“They will want to take one of our islands,” Teidestra said.

“They have one of our islands,” Gaiadia countered. “We would see they take no more. Ikapeia, Belromanazar, you will be vigilant. And wizard, leave your undead behind. I do not believe their presence will help negotiations.”

“If this is a trap, I can make more quickly,” I said.

We left camp not long after, a phalanx of amazons handling baggage and pack animals. Each member of the group had a pair of hetairoi who were never far. As we walked along the road along the west side of the island, the massive Ikapeia fell into step next to me.

“I have heard of you,” she said.

“And I you. Seeing you with my own eyes makes the stories more believable.”

She chuckled. “A year ago I would have said allowing a man to fight is the height of folly. Now? I am glad you hunt them on the waves.”

“Thank you. Since you and I are part of the protection, we should discuss specifics.”

Ikapeia agreed, and the two of us spoke in depth. What I learned was that Ikapeia was no mere brute. She looked at warfare as a sacred calling, her impressive physical gifts not even half of what made her such a terrifying opponent. She was a keen student of both style and tactics, and was constantly sharpening her mind to a fine point. She was interested in my stormwights, and we discussed how quickly I could create them. The two of us crafted a battleplan that involved me using power and stormwight to keep her from being overwhelmed while she would crush primary aggressors.

The site of the negotiations was the tiny village of Vekou, on the western coast. Once a place for goatherders, the relentless battles through the interior of the island had churned the terrain into lifeless mud. This wasteland touched the eastern end of the village and reached both north and south, leaving only small strips that still grew grass. As with everywhere in Axichis, food was scarce, and only a few goats had been spared the butcher’s blade. Our main cargo was a shipment of food brought from the trading vessels, enough to feed us taksim bayan escort with ample stores leftover for the locals.

We arrived before the Heacharids. The villagers who had not already fled for Gylgara welcomed us nervously, quartering us in the many empty homes. Negotiations would take place in the modest town hall, an open building by the cliffs on the eastern side of town. A hundred feet below, waves crashed against a rocky beach with only a narrow pathway descending.

In the late afternoon, a little girl came sprinting up the path, desperately warning us of the imminent arrival of the Heacharid contingent. Gaiadia had us stand in formation at the town hall, as both a welcome and a show of force. I waited, resting my hand on the pommel of my elven longsword. I wished I had my trusty ironwood staff to lean on.

The Heacharids were visible before they came to the edge of town. Their contingent was identically-sized to ours, I suspect as stipulated when this conference was agreed upon. They wore their heavy armor and marched under the banner of the burning rose. The loathing I felt for them was a physical force, wrapping around my heart. I found myself hunting faces for sight of Talynore Tazo, but the sellsword was not present. A bit of sentimentality on my part, but this time I had brought a share of night tea. I should have used it.

Oddrin stood up straight on my shoulder, a hiss issuing from his throat as the Heacharids made their way into the hall. Only the six officials of the delegation came into the building while the soldiers formed up on the other side. Our warriors and theirs stared hard at one another. Violence could spark at any moment.

The Heacharid diplomat, a tall cadaverous man, stepped forward. His skin was pale, his eyes the characteristic deep blue of the Heacharid aristocracy. He was dressed in ornate robes, his tabard emblazoned with the burning rose.

“My thanks for accepting our invitation,” he intoned, in a deep, silky voice, speaking accented but otherwise flawless Akleona. “And for abiding to the rules we set forth. I am Domianus Ducas, Xomera’s chosen voice in this matter.” Xomera, the goddess of purity the Heacharids credited as the motive for their atrocities.

I felt eyes on me. Many of the warriors were staring, and even the delegation started flicking their attention to me. They were seeing the Dreadstorm for the first time, the creature that had been hunting them on the waves, that stole the corpses of their men and used them as weapons. I remained impassive as I returned their gazes.

My eyes met those of one of the envoys. She was petite, clad in less-elaborate robes than her lord, but still finely made with intricate embroidery. Her skin had only a touch of olive, her hair straight and black. Her eyes were huge, and the deepest blue I had ever seen. She was exquisite, and I wanted as much as I hated her. Any who know of me will already know that this was Theophilia Bardane. She did not appear to be capable of what she would become, but her greatest power has always been her ability to be underestimated.

When our eyes met, I watched her nearly look away, but she did not. A fire sparked in them as her mouth opened with a tiny gasp.

Gaiadia stepped forward. “I am Gaiadia of Axichis, your counterpart.”

“Well met, Gaiadia of Axichis. Allow us to take our quarters. Negotiations will begin in the morning.”

“Your terms are accepted.”

Ducas hesitated but his expression never changed. Then, a short nod, and the Heacharids withdrew to the southern end of the village. That afternoon, tents sprang up on all around, where the rank and file stayed.

The Axichan contingent gathered in a small plaza on the north end of town. Our soldiers started a fire while our cooks started work on a hearty soup. The townsfolk gathered with bowls, and we were only too happy to share. They likely had not eaten so well since Elepetra was invaded, and they could stay far from the Heacharids. Though we had a truce, trust would not be purchased so easily.

While we socialized with the locals, the Heacharid side of the village was as dour as I expected from their sterile culture. The flickering of their torches gave their camp a sinister air. It is strange how a fire surrounded by laughter and conversation is welcoming, but one whose flickering light shows only empty streets is foreboding. Or perhaps my feelings on the Heacharids would ascribe a sinister air to anything they did.

I was speaking with Teidestra, who kept asking me about my earlier adventures. I found myself missing those times, being half-frozen in the lost city of Vexacion, of the cloying heat of the steaming jungle about Ul Adrax, or rot-scented air in the funereal depths of Gurghann Urad. In those days, every horizon was a new one. Now it was only this same, small swatch of sea, the days blending into one another as I battled the numberless Heacharid navy.

“Have you ever encountered a place…” she paused, sipping at her fragrant bowl of soup, “older than the world?”

Of course, I know now what Teidestra meant, but my interest in the Strata had not yet begun. It was partly thanks to my friendship with Teidestra that turned my studies in that direction. That, and my descent into Khulum Pal, but I had not yet heard that name.

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