TO SERVE THE LADY OF STORMS

I found Lord Crowe in his tent. The two samurai who were on guard announced and admitted me. The lord rose to his feet as I entered. He had been seated cross-legged before a stack of seven stones, apparently deep in thought.

The seven stones are a Blood tradition that represents the Old One. The Blood are a strange people: while they unhesitatingly acknowledge the divinity of the Three Goddesses and justly worship them, they simultaneously consider the Old One to be more akin to a wise and powerful ancestor. In fact, the Blood are even more touchy than usual if you make the mistake of referring to the Old One as a deity.

Therefore, the Blood do not offer prayers to the Old One. Instead, when a Blood considers himself to be at a critical crossroads, he meditates in an effort to gain the Old One's guidance. To an outsider, the difference seems trivial, but the Blood see it otherwise.

Lord Crowe was a short and stocky figure, clad in light chain armor identical to that worn by his samurai. His face was severe, with pure white hair worn in the oddly triangular style that was his trademark. His eyes were a strikingly cold gray that always reminded me of newly forged sword-blades. He was remarkably old for a lord of the Blood - almost in his second century. Usually, about the time a lord's gray hair begins to predominate, a younger challenger kills him and takes his holding.

Lord Crowe had proven difficult to kill.

Actually, the local region had two lords who were older than most. There are some who have begun to call the holdings around Lock 'the land of the gray lords'. I understand the younger lords find that irritating.

If you were to ask, most would tell you that Lord Crowe was the eldest lord south of the Ont Sea. They were wrong, of course. Actually, my husband is by far the elder of the two.

"Lady Olivia, it is a pleasure to see you again," Lord Crowe told me. He didn't quite grit his teeth as he did so.

Lord Crowe has always been dutifully polite to me. As a Storm-Hammer of Lady Ororo - both a priestess and a warrior in the Lady's service - I am owed respect from the Blood. The ties between the Old One and Lady Ororo are ancient, deep, and not to be trifled with.

Likewise, the goddess demands that I give the Blood my counsel. Even the ones who don't particularly like me.

I bowed in response to Lord Crowe's greeting.

"The honor is mine," I replied. Actually, I was being just as insincere as Lord Crowe. I respect the man, but I cannot say that I particularly enjoyed his company.

Then Lord Crowe cocked his head. That reminded me so much of my husband and my son that I felt a momentary pang.

"Lady Olivia... you've been in a fight," Lord Crowe noted.

I shrugged. My armor was scratched, dented, and blood-smeared. There were bruises and cuts on my face and arms.

"It's nothing. And I apologize for disturbing you," I replied.

On the other claw, I was quite sincere about that last part. If a man as self-assured as Lord Crowe was meditating before the seven stones of the Old One, then it was probably over a matter of some importance.

Lord Crowe waved a hand dismissively. "It is nothing, I..."

Then he paused and gave me a long and piercing look. It was as if something had just occurred to him.

"Honored lady, why do you wish to speak to me?" he finished.

Honestly, my husband should have been handling the discussion - the Blood are a patriarchal and stubborn bunch - but James' mission to Nyagra had turned into something else. Only time would tell if that 'something else' would be a disaster.

You see, Emma and I had lied to our husband about something very important. In our defense, we both felt it was necessary, and it was one of those situations in which there were no good choices.

However, that deed - that lie - gnawed at me. I should have told James the truth once we were joined as husband and wife, but...

But...

But perhaps I don't love my husband as much as a wife should. Oh, I do care for James. I care a great deal. After all, I've given him one child and hope for more.

It's just that I care for Emma more than I care for James.

"It is time to discuss the issue of the half-Creed," I told him.

Lord Crowe stared at me for a moment. Then he nodded abruptly.

Over a century ago, a mighty Creed raid - the largest ever seen in this part of the continent - crashed through the region that spanned from Nyagra to Roche, killing a vast number of innocents and putting hundreds of farms and villages to the torch. It was only halted after a series of blood-soaked battles that left the local populace decimated and exhausted.

The region has never fully recovered, and it remains infested with Creed. Three major Creed tribes occupy the stretch between the towns of Nyagra and Roche. Dozens of hard-bitten Blood lords form the bulwark that defends those towns - and their own people - from the Creed. For over a century, a brutal and never-ending series of skirmishes and battles have raged between the Blood and the Creed. Raid and counter-raid are a common event. The boundless hatred between Blood and Creed has accelerated beyond any trace of reason.

Atrocity and fury have become a way of life.

And it was about to get worse.

"Ale!" Lord Crowe called. After a few seconds of delay, an Elvish woman clad in an attractive but sensible dress entered the tent. She was carrying a beaker and two cups and, while she was pretty, I could tell she was not strictly ornamental. There were scars along her neck that reached up to her jaw, and the pair of long daggers on her belt were not for show. She had the look of a woman who could service a man's bed or cut his throat with equal skill.

Lord Crowe was famously unmarried. I took the Elf to be one of his many concubines.

Without a word, the Elf poured each of us a measure of ale. She gave Lord Crowe the first cup. After I accepted mine, she wordlessly bowed her way back out of the tent.

We were in Lord Crowe's camp, which was poised on the frontier between his holding and Creed territory. Lord Crow was commanding a force consisting of his samurai and militia, additional detachments from several other Blood lords, and a mixed contingent of Folk, Scatter, and Wilder regulars from the town of Lock.

That was an amazing show of cooperation.

The goal was to drive deep into Creed territory and destroy a key outpost that the Creed used as a marshaling point for their raids. That was actually a distraction. While the Creed were furiously focused on Lord Crowe's attack, a much larger force of mixed troops - including a significant number of Temple priestesses, acolytes, and guards - would move by boat along the shore of the Ont. They would eventually land at a defensible position and establish a fortification. They needed a critical few days to dig in. Lord Crowe and those under his command would give them the time they needed.

That fortification would be the basis of a vassal village - both a military post and eventually a center for Blood holdings.

The only reason either operation had a chance of succeeding was due to the amazing amount of mutual aid that the town of Lock, the regional Blood holders, and the Temples of Nyagra and Lock were granting each other.

The near-term goal was to cripple the nearest Creed tribe. The long-term goal was no less than the destruction of the Creed between Nyagra and Roche.

The truly amazing thing was that nobody seemed to realize that it was all my husband's plan. I saw with my own eyes how James set his scheme in motion. I was often his diplomatic go-between while he communicated with the various key players.

It was an impressive feat of diplomacy and subterfuge. It was also more than a little frightening. I suspected my husband had long-term goals that he hadn't explained to anyone.

Once, long ago, my husband had been much more than just another lord.

I wondered if that would happen again.

Lord Crowe examined me over the rim of his cup. His eyes were slightly narrow as he studied my face.

"What about the half-Creed?" he asked.

"We can't simply slaughter them," I replied evenly.

Lord Crowe's eyes narrowed even further.

The Creed are monsters; savage and bloodthirsty. I would say that they are more akin to animals than people, but that is an insult to the natural hunger of predators. The Creed are a bane on this Earth. They do not communicate - they murder. They do not woo - they rape. They do not build or trade - they steal. Their great enemy is the Blood. And if it were not for the Blood, the Creed might well have overwhelmed our world long ago.

In fact, it sometimes seems as if the rest of us are simply players in the drama of the mutual hatred between Blood and Creed.

Lord Crowe shook his head, but I could see something uneasy about him.

"The Old One has long since made his will known," he said. "The half-Creed are tainted. Just like their fathers, they are to be killed."

The children of the Creed either become full Creed - that is to say, monsters - or they hold on to some vestige of the humanity. Those who are not Creed are commonly referred to as half-Creed. The Creed treat them as slaves and their lives are terrible and short.

"My lord Crowe," I said softly. "Perhaps it is time to once again seek the will of the Old One on this question."

Lord Crowe's smile was bitter. "It seems there is never a Seeker around when you need one."

That statement raised a few questions about what Lord Crowe knew...

"True," I responded, "but the Old One's will is known through signs."

That made Lord Crowe pause.

"Do you have a sign for me, Priestess Olivia?" he eventually replied. His use of the title "Priestess" rather than "Lady" was calculated. It was definitely not my role to bring the will of the Old One to the Blood. Some might find the suggestion that I was doing so to be a grievous insult.

I was being gently warned by a man who did nothing gently.

I smiled at Lord Crowe, "I am obviously an instrument of Lady Ororo."

There was a roll of thunder in the distance. I wish I could tell who sent it, but the flourish was appreciated.

Lord Crowe waited for the thunder to end. Then he shrugged and took a long drink from his cup.

"A sign from Lady Ororo would not be for the Blood."

I chuckled. "Weren't you just crouched before the seven stones, Lord Crowe? Weren't you asking for some form of guidance? Perhaps it has arrived."

There was no point to saying anything more. Lord Crowe might be a blunt instrument of a man, but he was not stupid.

With a frown, Lord Crowe put his cup on a nearby map table.

"What do you wish to show me, Lady Olivia?" he asked suspiciously.

I took a deep breath. "Would you care to accompany me outside?" I asked.

We stood underneath a starless sky. Above us, a band of turbulent clouds stretched from horizon to horizon, partly illuminated by a half-moon.

Outside the tent, the two Blood guards and Lord Crowe's Elvish woman were waiting for us. The junior of the two samurai who guarded Lord Crowe's tent bowed respectfully and handed me my pole-hammer. As a matter of courtesy, I had not brought it into the tent with me.

The rest of the camp - a tense and silent mass of Blood, Wilder, and Folk - were stretched in a great semi-circle that faced the tent, yet keeping to a respectful distance. The scene was illuminated by guttering torchlight.

Lord Crowe didn't react. He had the remarkable senses of a Blood, so he'd heard what was happening outside. Wisely, he hadn't made the mistake of making a fuss about it. If I called the camp together to hear the wisdom of Lady Ororo, that was my right. And everyone in the camp either directly worshiped the Lady or held her in deep regard.

There were three figures in the open space between us and the mass of camp inhabitants. A Creed warrior was bound hand and foot in chains. He lay on the ground, struggling vainly against his bonds. Kneeling nearby was a half-Creed. He was a youngster, probably still in his teens. He was dressed in rags that didn't do much to conceal the patchwork of scars that covered his body. His hands were tied behind his back and a rope halter descended from his neck, coiling on the ground before him. His eyes seemed empty and hopeless.

Lastly, an acolyte of Lady Ororo - a barefoot and scrawny girl dressed in hand-me-down robes - was also present. She was watching the two prisoners and keeping the troops of the encampment in place. I'd drafted her into my service when I entered the camp. Not for the first time, I made a mental note to get her some sandals and a good set of robes before I left.

"May I?" I asked the Elvish woman as I held my free hand out to her.

The Elf considered me for a moment. Then, without a word, she plucked one of the daggers from her belt and handed it to me.

Walking into the middle of the semi-circle, I gestured to the acolyte that she should leave. She bowed and withdrew.

When I cut the half-Creed free, there was a ripple of unease from the massed warriors. More than few sets of claws snikted open. Swords and knives were drawn by many of the non-Blood.

Over my shoulder, I could sense a pulse of electricity as the acolyte made ready to call on the Lady's power and will.

Looking up, I saw a tracery of lightning flickering off in the distance.

Everyone became even more tense when I handed the dagger to the half-Creed boy.

Then I grounded the butt of my pole-hammer into the ground and leaned against the massive hammer-head. The short-handled hammer symbol engraved into the hammer-head gave off a faint blue glow.

"We need a sacrifice," I told the puzzled and frightened boy.

It took him a moment to understand. Then, with a breathless cry of hatred, he leaped onto the chained Creed. The dagger in his hand flashed in the torchlight, describing a long downward arc. When he brought the blade up again, blood flew wildly. Some splattered onto my face, hands, and cloak.

The thunder from the lightning we'd seen seconds ago finally arrived, rolling like great drums as it washed over us.

Everyone watched in unblinking silence. White teeth glittered in the dark. It took a long time for the Creed to finally die. After that, the boy sawed off the Creed's head. That was how you make sure a Creed - or a Blood - is absolutely dead.

Shaking in reaction, the boy finally staggered to his feet. His face, arms, and upper body were soaked in blood. The mockery of clothing he'd been wearing had been torn loose from his body and he was naked. He glared around him, his dagger held ready. I suppose he was waiting for death.

As Lord Crowe examined the scene before him, his Elvish woman touched him gently on the arm. He turned to the Elvish woman, looked into her eyes, and then nodded. The smile the Elf gave to her lord was eager... and more than a little ferocious.

Slipping out of her clothing, the Elf entered the semi-circle, took the dagger away from the boy, and kicked the Creed's head and body off to the side. The jagged scars of Creed claws were visible on her back and stomach, rippling as her tight muscles shifted. Then she licked blood from the boy's face and hands.

When she and the boy began fucking in the blood-soaked grass, it was a frenzied and savage coupling.

Among the samurai and soldiers, some couples - and a few threesomes and foursomes - began drifting away. They were obviously intent on culminating the sacrifice in their own manner. The acolyte who'd helped me was in the arms of a burly Blood. They whispered to each other as their hands roamed over each other's bodies. Then their lips met. That sort of thing was a violation of the conditions of being an acolyte, but I've learned that sometimes it's best if you are too busy to notice everything that's being done by your underlings.

"Is this sign acceptable?" I asked Lord Crowe, doing my best to keep my voice respectful and completely neutral.

Lord Crowe gave me a crooked smile. "I would have rathered that everyone got a good night's sleep."

Then he turned to the older of his two guards - who was actually Lord Crowe's senior samurai. The samurai had obviously wanted to make sure that his lord was as safe as possible on the night before entering Creed territory.

Lord Crowe jerked his head towards the couple that was convulsing before the rapidly disintegrating semi-circle of warriors.

"When they're done, get that boy a weapon and some armor," the lord said. "I think he'll be useful."

"Yes, my lord," the senior samurai said. He was trying to hide a smile.

"And let it be known that we will free any half-Creed we encounter, not kill them," Lord Crowe finished.

"Yes, my lord," The senior samurai repeated. His approval was obvious.

Then Lord Crowe looked back at me. "If you will excuse me, Lady Olivia. While this conversation has been illuminating, I have troop dispositions to consider."

I bowed politely.

After Lord Crowe vanished inside his tent, I wiped the Creed's blood-splatter from my face. Most of the troops were gone. The Elf and the half-Creed boy were still tangled up in one another, but their interaction was less frantic - as I watched, the Elf moaned a whisper, and then a kiss, into the boy's ear.

Blood still flowed from the body of the Creed, but it no longer pulsed outward from a beating heart.

I looked up at the night-sky. Off to the east and west, lightning flared once again. And this time the thunder arrived almost immediately.

Still looking up at the storm, I whispered a quiet word of thanks.

Sometimes, you just have to explain things to the Blood in a manner that they will understand.