I carry the memory of Axichis. There is no one else who can share this responsibility, so it is mine. This world is full of gods, of demons, of immortals of all stripes, but I am one that I can say for certain saw Axichis before her fall. It is upon me to remember her. Her beauty, her tragedy, her heights, and her ultimate failure.

This would irk the elders of the islands to no end. A man advocating their legacy, collecting what few treasures escaped the conquest, preserving what he could of their art and literature. And yes, I do this partly for my son Xeilyphon and his descendants, but I do it also for myself. It reminds me of the wonder this world can contain and the cruelty that can rob us of it.

The most common question asked of me is, of course, how did a civilization of women reproduce? There has always been a puerile obsession with the amazons, and great deal of leering speculation over how they maintained their population. The answer is at once simpler and more complex than the interlocutor suspects.

The first answer is that they reproduce in the standard fashion. While every amazon has some Eupheric experience, not all of them confine their romantic attentions to women. Xeiliope, for example, took far more men into her bed than little Alia ever did. Many amazons will fall pregnant, and the children might join the culture. Others will even marry men and take them to live upon the archipelago. These few do not have the same legal rights that an Amazon would, but it is my understanding that they live safe and happy existences.

The second answer requires the understanding of a fact that is often forgotten. Amazons look human, but they are as dissimilar from us as we are to orcs and elves. Outwardly, there are but few hints. Their golden eyes are the most obvious difference, but I find that their relative lack of body hair is equally indicative. Although, I suppose I have more experience with nude amazons than do most outlanders.

The legend goes that Kleomenope, after her husband and sons had been slain by raiders, fled into the sea where a storm took her. Her ship came aground on the island of Axichis. She made her way to the peaks over the bay and cried out in anguish. The moon goddess took pity upon her and taught her to create a new family from the stones of the island itself. In her grief, Kleomenope could not bear to make a man to replace her husband nor boys to replace her sons, and so created daughters.

The secret of creation is known only to the amazons. It was perhaps the one thing the Heacharids hated them for above all others. Since the fall of Axichis, it has been irrevocably lost.

In the months after I first took the seas upon Naeri's Revenge, I had grown close to my crew of sailors. My captain was a grizzled salt by the name of Kucyone, as skilled a sailor as any who had ever plied the Turquoise Sea. We had learned much from each other. For me, it was the art of the mariner, how to use the weather, what could and couldn't be done. For her, it was how best to make use of her storm mage, how close she had to get me to the enemy, and how to support my attacks and keep me alive.

I still recall her laugh on the winds of my storm the first time she watched as freshly-slain Heacharids rose as stormwights. "Hard to sail in a storm," she told me after, tapping the tobacco from her pipe, "harder still when half the crew's tryin' to slay the other half!"

She in rough Rhandic that reminded me of the way the fishermen of Burley Shoal talked, albeit in a strong Axichan accent with just a bit of Castellandrian drizzled over the vowels.

As summer turned to autumn, we became perhaps the single most important vessel in the Axichan navy. Kucyone took no end of amusement over this, as the assignment of ferrying around the outlander was intended to be a demotion.

Our journey to Paiari was a refreshing diversion because we weren't on the hunt. We arrived at the port at Elekidora, the island's largest settlement, at sunset. Kucyone stared out the Heacharid ships patrolling the horizon. "Seems a shame, wizard," she said, her words coming out on a halo of pipe smoke.

"A night of peace?"

She nodded out into the dying light. "Look at yonder ships. Sailing without fear. We should sink a couple. Remind them these waters hunger for Heacharid sailors."

I had to laugh. "Soon, Captain. Enjoy tonight."

"Oh, aye. I will find my fill of wine and women, you can be assured of that."

Elekidora's bay was narrow at the entrance but deep. The city lined either side, and thanks to its proximity to the front, was heavily fortified. Catapults stood silent sentry on either side of the bay, ready to sink any Heacharid ships that came near. A few torches fought the darkness that covered the city. On the hill above, a great fire burned.

We docked and, along with Einoë and Kallea, I made my way from the dock up the hill. They walked with heads held high and shoulders squared, proud of their assignment. The change in their demeanor was incredible, beginning with the victory at Naeri and only growing more pronounced with our success upon the waves.

The Symposium was at the crest of the hill, a great gathering of important personages. Military leaders wore their armor, carrying shortswords on their belts. The civilian leaders were clad in their chitons, the simple gowns of the Axichans. They had gathered around a massive fire blazing in a great bronze dish, speaking in groups of four and five. Tiers of seats rose about the flames on three sides. The fourth looked out over Elekidora and the sea beyond. I thought of the Heacharid ships out there in the dark, sailing without fear. Kucyone was right.

"This gathering should be safe enough, tent brother," Einoë murmured in my ear.

"We will be at the edge of the fire," Kallea whispered in the other.

My hetairoi left me, joining the other bodyguards right as the light gave way to shadow. The feeling of loneliness that enveloped me was strange. I had grown so accustomed to them that their absence was wrong in a way I found hard to accept.

That feeling was banished as my eyes fell on my companions Alia and Velena. The two Mythseekers spoke together by the fire, their eyes glittering in the light. I went to them, feeling the smile on my face. Alia spotted me first and her stormy expression vanished beneath a beaming grin. She ran to me, leaping into my arms. I held the tiny rogue tightly, unaware of how much I missed her until I smelled her sweat, the old leather of her costume, and the faint odor of the oil she used to loosen up stubborn locks.

"Bel," she said happily, hopping down from me, her green eyes bright. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

Velena took me in her soft embrace. What disturbed me was that her scent had changed. Beneath that herbal smell that permeated her was the unmistakable odor of blood. She was as soft as she always was, but when I looked into her pale eyes, they were tired.

"You look well," said the witch.

"I've heard what you've been up to," Alia said. "Our wizard has turned pirate."

"I am glad you're safe," Velena said.

"For the moment," I said. "Seeing the two of you...it's like tending to a wound I didn't know I had."

"Trying to get Velena to check you for hurts?" Alia said.

"That's not what I meant."

"Too bad," Velena said with a smile that held some of her old spark.

"We have the night," I said, musing at the possibility.

"Xeiliope!" Alia exclaimed. By the time Velena and I turned, Alia was hugging the amazon. Xeiliope looked wearier than she had even when I saw her. Our embrace was soft, lingering in the memory of our last time together.

"Are you well?" Velena asked.

Xeiliope's expression was stony. "Come, let us find a place to sit. The Symposium should begin soon." We followed Xeiliope to seats halfway up the risers. As I gained a better look at the gathering, my attention was grabbed by two individuals who took my breath away.

They were wizards.

I had heard that Axichis had two others of my kind, but I had not encountered them. These two women, each with a creature upon their shoulders, could be nothing else.

The first I saw was of middling height and lithe build. Her head was shaved, her scalp decorated with turquoise tattoos running down her temples to disappear into her collar. Her costume was a motley assortment of a half-dozen styles, each one of a different color. Her familiar, a sea bat, perched on her shoulder.

The other was tall, dressed in a traditional Axichan chiton. She was long-limbed, with full breasts and hips. Her wavy golden brown hair was pinned up in a style I saw only on statues. A sky eel coiled about her swanlike neck, bathing her in golden light. As though she sensed my attention, she turned, and our eyes met. She gave me a slight nod of acknowledgement, which I returned. A shiver worked its way down my spine. She looked like nothing more than a goddess made flesh.

The Symposium began shortly thereafter. Please, bear in mind that I am, at heart, a Rhandonian. A Rhandonian who grew up near, not even in, a small fishing town. I am provincial, something that Zhahllaia and Sarakiel still occasionally tease me over. So when I say that my way of understanding an amazon Symposium is as something of a town meeting, do not judge me too harshly. I think the description is fundamentally apt. There is business, perhaps a vote or two, often a birth announcement, and then a party wherein community is reaffirmed. That is a town meeting, albeit one of grander scale and cultural weight.

This particular Symposium was a meeting of the ruling class of Axichis. The fact that the Mythseekers were there should have been a clue to me that the war was not going well. We should not have been so important to a war effort.

The archonae of each island spoke on what their domains needed. Melisis needed metal for her forges, Thessandreia was beset and needed another phalanx, Paiari was hungry. Only my island, Axichis herself, was without a strong need for any one thing. All of them wanted the Heacharid blockade broken.

The generals spoke of victories, and I was singled out for mine upon the waves. Our side's successes were few and tempered. No matter how many ships full of Heacharids I consigned to the deep, there were three more ready to land on our shores.

The birth rituals brought light after the darkness. Three amazons approached the fire, two of them in chitons and one a military woman in her armor. All three carried babies carved from the white stone of the archipelago. They knelt at equidistant points about the fire and threw their hands to the heavens. Above, a full moon shone down upon them.

They spoke in the Akleona, the Axichan tongue, and my fluency was growing with it every day. I spoke only the basics when I arrived, courtesy of Xeiliope. Einoë and Kallea had taken over my tutelage, and I had improved vastly when communicating with the crew of my ship. Still, my vocabulary was primarily nautical and martial, and this was obviously a prayer. If one of them ordered a boarding action, I would follow effortlessly.

They cried out to the moon goddess to grant their children birth. I caught that much, though I at the time I missed some of the nuance. A complete transcription of the prayer exists in The Glory of the Amazons, although that text is somewhat old and filtered through its author's Kharsoomian sensibility. Suffice to say that the invocation no longer works. It was a gift from Xenethestra the Goddess of the Moon to Kleomenope and her daughters. As with so much of their culture, it is gone from the world.

Akleona is still spoken, albeit in an altered form. The diaspora that came from the fall of Axichis took the amazons to different places in the world where they were forced to join other communities or fall extinct. One such group settled in Rhandonia, not far south of Burley Shoal. Their language merged with Rhandic, taking words and accent, and now is not the music I heard upon Axichis.

I watched in wonder as the light from the moon brightened, but only upon the three babes, each before the mother. The silvery light caressed the stone, and where it passed, the white stone turned to a fleshy bronze, and the children awoke to squalling life. The mothers took their newly birthed children in their arms, kissing and cuddling, while the Symposium cheered this happy day.

We concluded with a prayer of thanks to the moon and a prayer of victory to her daughter, goddess of the hunt. Now the Symposium turned to festivities. In this time, the issues that were raised were discussed. Archonae coordinated to deliver what the other islands needed. Generals debated their next move. The rest of us socialized, or else volunteered for actions military and civil.

"Excuse me," I said to the Mythseekers. "I want to meet my colleagues."

"What?" Velena asked.

"The other wizards," Alia said, nodding to them. "It doesn't hurt that they're both lovely."

"Areteoi," Xeiliope said. "An amazon wizard is an areteos. Two are areteoi."

"I will return to you," I said to Velena.

"I should hope so. We will start without you if need be. Perhaps even finish."

"I will be swift."

I made my way over to the areteoi, slinking through the crowd. The taller of the two, with the wavy hair, spotted me first. By the time I was next to them, both had turned to greet me.

"Well met, Belromanazar," said the taller, in accented Rhandic. "I am Phaeliope of Paiari and this is Ulodice of Thessandreia."

"I'm honored," I said in my halting Akleona, before switching to Rhandic. "I heard we had more wizards on our side...my apologies, areteoi."

"We are the last," Ulodice said ruefully in far clumsier Rhandic. "Didn't have many when this thing started, and the Heacharids are ruthless when it comes to the slaughter of spellweavers."

"I've noticed they don't seem to like me," I said.

Phaeliope smiled, and it was like the sun coming out. "I've heard tales of what you do. Bewitching entire crews and setting ships aflame. Impressive."

"I haven't heard very much of the war."

"They trust you not," Ulodice said.

"Because I am a man."

"Aye, and you are areteos."

"I thought it was the Heacharids who hated our kind."

"They do," Phaeliope said mildly, "but that does not make us trusted here. It does not help that they believe we are a sign of a loss of favor."

"I don't follow."

"The last areteos to be born on these islands was over a century ago."

"Truly?"

Ulodice nodded. "I am she."

"And before Ulodice's birth," Phaeliope said, "the number had been declining for some time. As areteoi were slain, they were not replaced. When the Heacharids attacked, there were but four of us. Two have already fallen. Your arrival was fortuitous."

"There are wizards in mercenary companies," I said. "We should hire them."

"We have not the wealth to retain sellswords."

"And if you think they do not trust a wizard like you, boon companion to that goddess yonder, what do you think they would say of one who sold his loyalty for coin?" Ulodice said.

"I see," I said. "I know a sorceress...there is a band of adventurers, the Redmarks. They are friends. They would be loyal and trustworthy. The sorceress, her command of flame would be a nightmare for the Heacharid fleet."

"And who would fetch them?" Phaeliope asked. "Do you even know where they are?"

I sighed. "You're right."

"It is the three of us," Ulodice said. "Like it or not."

"You know what I do," I said. "May I ask what they have you doing?"

Phaeliope was on Thessandreia, her magic ideal for land battles. Ulodice was a seer and she was in Kleogara, advising the generals. I spoke with the two of them for some time and eventually we drifted from the war. Both of them had spent time off the island, but for Phaeliope, that was several centuries in the past. Speaking with a creature this old, and as an equal, was intoxicating. I suspected she was older even than my old master, but she never made me feel as though I did not belong in her company.

We shared stories. Phaeliope had been an adventurer in the distant past, and though Ulodice had never been, she had traveled far and wide. We were deep into the night when I suddenly became aware of a small redhaired woman at my elbow. I turned to the sparkling green eyes of Alia of Freeport.

"Bel, we're off to bed."

"That is not a bad idea," said Ulodice. "We shall have to keep current with one another, Belromanazar."

I almost protested, but Phaeliope spoke, her golden eyes sparkling. "I have heard such an invitation many times in my past. It would be a shame to refuse it."

"Wise council," I said with a rueful smile. "I hope to see both of you again soon."

"Good, now let's go," Alia said, pulling me away. By the time we found Velena and Xeiliope, they were upon a couch in one of the rooms of the vast complex on top of this hill, the two of them in a nude embrace. Xeiliope's hard, bronze body against Velena's pale, pillowy flesh. Their hands were clutched between the thighs of the others, their mouths locked in a passionate kiss. Alia disrobed, joining the embrace, kissing and caressing.

I looked out past the columns, to the sea, the moans of my companions washing over me. Then I sank onto the couch with the three of them. As lovely as it was, there was a distance between all of us. It was as though we could not give the entirety of ourselves to each other. We found our bliss, it was not as it was. I felt an unnamable sense of loss. It would be prophetic, as this would be the last time the four of us lay together as a group for many years.

I next saw Phaeliope not long after. Naeri's Revenge journeyed to the waters off Thessandreia to prey upon the Heacharid seawolves there. They had gotten fat and confident, and we were able to sink several before they understood that I was among them.

During the final engagement before returning to port, I had a most unusual encounter. Upon the deck of the other vessel was a spellweaver of some stripe. I spotted him as we drew close, for he cut a striking figure. His torso was nude, his muscled chest crisscrossed in scars. On his arms and legs, he wore red enameled plate. A tiny red loincloth imparted what little modesty could be had. He wore an iron collar and crown, completing the bizarre ensemble. He hurled swarms of vermin at our ship with magical invocations. Stormwights cut him down on the way to sinking the ship beneath the hungry waves.

Naeri's Revenge had been damaged in the fighting, and we sailed to the nearest port, a small town on the northern side of Thessandreia. Since the loss of the main, southern port, this had been the way in and out for Axichan reinforcements and resupply. The bulk of the fighting was the rocky interior of the island, the battlelines carving deep scars through the rugged terrain.

As Kucyone sailed us into the port, I found I could not stop thinking of the enemy spellweaver. He had been maddened. Even the fiery hate I saw in the eyes of most Heacharids paled against the blazing pyre in his gaze. I had the feeling that I had slain not a man, but a mad dog. I had meted out some measure of mercy. This is what truly haunted me as we docked.

"It'll take a couple days. Could even be a week," Kucyone said, referring to the ship's needed repairs. "And this place won't have what we need to resupply. We'll have to get to Melisis once the Revenge is truly seaworthy. We would've been better off even in Elepetra."

"What should I do?"

"You're a weapon, Master Wizard. What does one do with a weapon between battles?"

"Sharpen it," said Einoë with a smirk.

"There you have it. Listen to your hetairoi."

I went with Einoë and Kallea into the town of Megannis. This place had obviously changed during the war, forced to adapt to a new reality for which it was unsuited, becoming both the only port of call on the island and the destination for every refugee. The evidence of this was in the shanties that clung to her buildings from all sides, clogging the alleys and gardens with displaced residents. The eyes of the people here were sunken, their limbs thin. I could only assume that since Megannis remained relatively open, conditions were not as dire as they could be, but they appeared desperate to my eyes. I wanted to be back on the water, cleansing the waves of Heacharids.

"Where are you going, tent brother?" Kallea asked.

I realized I was wandering, shocked by the misery on the streets. "I was looking for the hill, where the archonae might be."

"This way," Einoë said, nodding to the west. She led me down winding streets rendered thinner by the refugees.

I spotted the Kleomenia, the traditional gathering place for the archonae, ahead. It indeed sat on a hill, a low one, as Megannis had no other kind. The columns were dirty against the smoky southern sky. Guards at the gate closed ranks as we approached.

"Make way for Belromanazar the Wizard," Kallea said.

"Stand fast, sister," said one of the guards. "We will send a runner to announce you." She turned to a young girl lingering just inside the stone wall. "Go on, inform--"

"Belromanazar?"

I turned, finding Phaeliope, flanked by her two hetairoi, making her way up the street. Even in the midst of the war, Phaeliope had a preternatural sense of calm about her. I found myself completely bewitched and it took me a few moments to find my tongue. "Phaeliope! It is good to see you."

"What are you doing here?"

"My ship needs a few minor repairs. I was going to contact the archonae to see if there was good I could do in the meantime."

She beamed at me, and I felt taller in her approval. "Come with me, then." She walked to the gate and the guards stepped aside automatically. When I fell into step beside her, they cast a few suspicious looks my way but did nothing to stop me.

"I knew you were close," Phaeliope said. "Sightings of Heacharid ships being eaten up by the sea has been the talk of the city."

"It is but a small assistance. I wish I could do more. I had no idea things were so desperate here."

"Until we can eject them from the island, the Heacharids will continue to strangle Thessandreia. The island has emptied itself into Megannis. Fields go unplowed, flocks untended or outright captured."

Phaeliope brought me to meet the archonae, who summoned General Scyda. At first, they refused my help, but Phaeliope was passionate. "With Belromanazar's assistance, we could dislodge the camp on Menes Ridge. A swift advance would push their western lines back, perhaps even to the walls of Eolene!"

Scyda finally relented, giving us leave to do what Phaeliope demanded. The General would only spare us twenty hoplites and ten archers, telling us that two wizards should be more than enough. I was initially surprised when Phaeliope did not ask for more, but she later explained that a smaller force would be able to get close and could perhaps take the Heacharids by surprise. Two wizards would be more than enough in that event. I consoled myself with a simple fact: no matter how small our force might be, I would expand it with every spell I hurled into the enemy.

I knew Xeiliope had been sent to Thessandreia, but I learned she had been sent to Elepetra to keep the Heacharids from landing.

We were to depart tomorrow at first light, march through the day and attack at night. Phaeliope took me to her quarters, a house with a terraced garden on the northern end of town. The trees had been picked clean and several tents had been erected beneath them. The refugees there watched me with curious eyes as Phaeliope showed me to a couch where I could spend the night. My hetairoi made do with a few furs in front of a fire, boasting that they were no mere soft wizards and could sleep on bare stone if needed.

We set out at dawn the next day. I walked with Phaeliope, watching the sky eel about her neck. It regarded me with faint interest, mimicking its mistress's ageless gaze. Oddrin was close about my shoulders. It felt as though he were as overawed by her familiar as I was of her.

"Phaeliope, I did not know the Heacharids had spellweavers. I was under the impression they put our kind to the sword."

"They do. If you or I are captured, they would make sport of us on the way to a public execution. Why do you ask?"

"In my last battle, I faced an enemy I would swear is a fellow wizard. An areteos."

"You faced one of their witchthralls." She looked to me, and must have caught the expectant expression upon my face. "The Heacharid Empire is vast. As it spread over Aucor, it took many other kingdoms, free cities, and so on. In one of these slave-kingdoms, should a wizard be born, the Heacharids make of them a witchthrall."

She drew close to me, and a shiver passed through her ageless body. "All I am about to tell you is awful. A living nightmare." She looked about, and dropped her voice. "First, the child is taken from the parents."

"That is how it is done in Rhandonia. I was taken from my parents by Rhadoviel of Thunderhead."

"Forgive me, but that is barbaric."

"I have been called barbarian more than once."

"The Heacharids do more than that. They take the familiar, though I know not how, and imprison it. In this way, a witchthrall might never escape. Rebel, and the familiar is killed. The link to magic is gone, and the witchthrall loses all of her power."

"That is awful." I stroked the smooth flesh of the night eft on my shoulder. Phaeliope was doing the same to her sky eel. It was an unconscious act, something the two of us shared, as these creatures were a part of us, perhaps the best part.

"There is more. They are taken to the Red Citadel, where they learn to harness their magics through the most brutal of methods. They are beaten, violated, outraged in every manner. Most do not survive. Those unhappy few who do are broken, monstrous killers. Then they are unleashed upon the enemies of the Heacharids. They are terrible foes for death will only end their torment and victory might buy the tiniest comfort in a life with too few."

"I slew one yesterday."

"Good. You brought her peace."

I did not bother to correct her on the witchthrall's gender. I merely thought of him on the deck, frantically hurling his spells, desperate to inflict more pain on the world.

We came upon the Heacharid camp at nightfall and by the time they mobilized to face us, half were already mine. Diotenah's power whispered in my ear, happily infecting my magic. Phaeliope held the rest of them in place, pulling grasping roots from the earth to twine about their legs. Then the amazons cut them down.

I was about to order my stormwights to march on Eolene, when Phaeliope stopped me. "Belromanazar, these creatures of yours...how long do they remain animate?"

I frowned at the corpses in front of me, clad in their Heacharid armor, moving with that loose-limbed shamble of the undead, blue lightning crackling over their ruined flesh. "I...don't know. Why?"

"This is but a few. They would break upon Eolene's defenses like a wave on a beach. Better to learn their new demilifespans. You might be able to mass them then, for a true shock attack."

"That is an excellent idea," I said. I turned to the stormwights, watching me, many with empty sockets, others with bloodshot or clouded eyes. Diotenah's whispers twined over my will. They retrieved their gear and fell into formation.

Phaeliope returned from the command tent clutching a rolled map and two scroll cases. "Orders," she said, her lovely face glowing with pride.

We returned to Megannis after dawn, exhausted but elated. The guards of the city raised the alarm when they saw a column of Heacharids in arms and armor, but Phaeliope called them off. The stormwights received many fearful looks, but soon, word spread of what they truly were, and more of the amazons smiled and even laughed at their arrival. These were evidence of not only a victory but of a rank humiliation of the enemy. A dark way to raise spirits, but in such times, dark joy was still joy.

General Scyda was pleased with what we'd done, even more for the documents Phaeliope had found. The plans did not end up turning the tide on Thessandreia, but the island cost the Heacharids may more lives.

"Now you rest," Scyda told us. "You've done a great service."

We returned to Phaeliope's home, and after a day and night of marching and no sleep, I could not wait for rest. I marshaled my stormwights in an olive grove outside and found my couch from the previous night. I was asleep before I had settled into its cushions.

I awoke in the darkness of evening, my stomach snarling. A heavy scent of mutton and vegetables hung in the air, along with the lively sounds of a flute and mandolin. I wiped my eyes, sitting up in confusion.

"Our tent brother awakens," said Einoë with a smirk.

"He can fight like an amazon and fuck like an amazon, but he is still sadly mortal," said Kallea.

My tent sisters stood before me. They were out of their armor, clad only in short chitons, their long, muscular limbs on display. I could not decide if I wanted food or a tumble with the two of them. They held clay bowls, the contents steaming fragrantly.

"Eat something first," Einoë said with a sparkle in her eye. She knew my thoughts, or she had grown to recognize when I looked upon her with desire. It happened often enough. She handed me the second bowl she held, and I found it full of thick mutton stew. The first spoonful made me close my eyes and settle back on the couch. Warmth flowed through my limbs, restoring vigor. It was only after a few more bites that I looked about me.

I saw women I recognized from our sortie, as well as the local civilians, in small groups. Some were chatting, others eating, others looking to be in the midst of games of seduction. Two older women in chitons played the mandolin and flute I'd heard, while a warrior danced with two young maidens. Outside, my ranks of stormwights observed with sightless eyes from the darkness of the olive trees.

"I thought we needed a celebration for our victory," Phaeliope said. I was still partly asleep, and had not noticed her arrive. She stood beside me, so graceful and feminine. I took in her smell, the herbs of the kitchen over a soft layer of sweat. It was only then that I looked down at my bowl and made the connection.

"This stew...we need to conserve--"

She cut me off with a hand on my shoulder. "We need this. I slaughtered three lambs upon our return and cooked while you and our brave soldiers were abed."

"You did not sleep?"

"I am old, Belromanazar. I scarcely need sleep anymore. Eat, enjoy yourself."

She turned to go. "Phaeliope?" She turned back, her eyes meeting mine. The gold I found there was of candleflame reflected in molten wax. "Thank you."

"I am pleased to cook for--"

"No," I said. "Well, yes. It is more that...you've never made me feel like an outsider."

Her smile softened. "You are not. Not to me. We are areteoi, the two of us." She settled down on the couch next to me. It is hard to describe, even now after I have been in the presence of literal goddesses, but Phaeliope was the first taste I'd had of something close to that. She was ancient, but it was all in that molten flame of her eyes.

"I traveled beyond these shores for many centuries. Wherever an amazon goes outside of our little archipelago, we are different. Yet other places have areteoi, wizards, so in that way I am known. They see Rychë," and she stroked the head of her sky eel, "and they know what I am. At least in the abstract."

"I suppose I am a wizard first and Rhandonian second," I said.

"In their eyes, perhaps." She cocked her head. "I am terribly curious. Your abilities, with the wights I mean, are incredible. I've not seen their like."

"Therein lies a tale."

"I would hear it, but first, I would fetch us wine." She leaned in and kissed my cheek before going on her errand. I could only sit and luxuriate in the warmth that lingered where her lips had touched me.

As the festivities continued, many slunk off to their tents, beds, or couches. Sometimes singly, more often in twos and threes. Nothing stokes desire like the nearness of death.

Some of the warriors had started to wrestle in the tiled courtyard. They stripped to nothing but their sandals, their bodies glistening with sweat. I watched with interest both noble and puerile as these powerful warriors struggled against one another.

"Tent brother?" I turned to find Kallea. Behind her was Einoë, arm in arm with two warriors I recognized as Phaeliope's hetairoi. "We are retiring."

"I think I'm safe enough."

Einoë smirked. "Would you like to join us? We have told tales."

I held up a hand. "Another time."

"A foolish decision," said one of the others. "It is not every day a man is asked to lie with an amazon."

I chuckled, because that was not precisely true these days. They left us, and Phaeliope looked to me. "Why did you not join them?"

"We were speaking."

"We might speak later. "Kledaska and Eegea are excellent lovers. They have never lain with a man, but they are eager learners and possess of incredible stamina."

"Are you attempting to be rid of me?"

She chuckled. "No, merely wanted your decision to be informed."

"I appreciate that."

"Tell me, does this mean you are not interested in loveplay this night?"

"Are you?"

"Of course. After a battle, it is a way to reaffirm life. To reforge connections. To celebrate. I make it a practice to do so."

"Did you have someone in mind?"

"You, of course," she said with a smile. "I have been with many men, though it has been long years since my last. I find myself craving such. You."

"You are direct."

"If I want something, I ask for it. It comes with age. Now tell me, Belromanazar the Rhandonian, will you lay with me tonight?"

"It would be my honor, Phaeliope the Amazon."

She grinned, offering her hand to me. I took it and she drew me away from the party, through a doorway, into her bedchamber. In true Axichan fashion, it had only two walls, the other two being stands of columns, open to the temperate air. She blew onto two candles, lighting them with the ineffable kiss of her magic. Our familiars left our shoulders, alighting upon the statue of an amazon warrior just outside.

She reached to the shoulder of her chiton, and with a pull, the garment unraveled and fell about her feet. Phaeliope stood before me, nude. I had never seen an amazon whose physique I would not call perfect. This isn't to imply they are identical. Far from it. There is as wide a variety among them as among any other people. Their skin is free of blemishes, their fat is soft and held by taut flesh, their muscles are shapely.

Phaeliope was unlike the amazons that I had thus far lain with, but those, I reminded myself, were warriors all. Phaeliope was softer, no tigerish rippling of muscles beneath sun-bronzed skin. Her flesh was fair, edging to milky, with only a hint of amazonian bronze. Her limbs were long and slender, her breasts heavy and hips full. Her wavy mass of golden brown hair fell past her shoulders. The only hair below her neck was a silky triangle between her legs, a delectable honey blonde fleece barely shrouding a plump orchid. Her face, as classical a beauty as any goddess, was lit with a smile.

"The way you look at me, it is as though you have not spent the past hour watching daughters of Kleomenope cavorting in the nude."

"I did not watch you cavort."

"Come, let me join in your joy. Take off that robe."

I obeyed, casting aside my robe and smallclothes. My staff was rapidly rising, a heat calling to her delectable sex.

She raised one arched eyebrow as she regarded me. "When your hetairoi described your spear, I assumed them to be indulging in boastful fantasy." She met my eyes and gestured to the couch. "Please, sit here."

I did as she asked, my staff jutting obscenely up and out. She bent over, and I thought she might be ready to take me in her mouth. Instead, she blew softly. Magic, bright and pure, washed over me, sending a tingle up my shaft and into my belly. I watched what appeared to be morning dew spring up over my length.

She looked into my eyes. "Now we will begin."

She took me gently in her hand, stroking lightly, spreading the spots of dew over me. They were delightfully greasy, sheathing me in oil. She sat high on her knees, guiding me to her sex. Then, after a moment of consideration, she readjusted, squatting to get the proper angle. I reached for her, to steady her body and prepare her.

"You will keep your hands there, on the couch. You are going to experience something a wizard from the mainland taught me." A grin touched her lips. "He was Kharsoomian, savage in his passion. This was unlike him, and it produced in me the most shattering bliss."

"As you wish."

She guided me to her sex, the head of me brushing over her engorged lips. The heat was a gentle caress, the moisture of her spell combining with that of her body. The warmth took me as she eased me inside her. I sighed as the pleasure slithered down my shaft to join the heat in my belly. I felt myself readying to thrust into her, to take her to the hilt.

"Do not move," she said. Her chest was beginning to heave, a few droplets of sweat springing over her breasts.

"I want you," I breathed.

"And you will have me. But you must be still."

She was poised over me, a quiver in her thighs as she supported her weight. She was perfectly balanced, her feet flat on either side of my hips. I returned my palms to their place on the couch, flat against the soft cushions.

She was still, her sex hot around me. I looked to where we were joined, her plump lips around the base of my head.

"Just...feel," she sighed.

My eyes brought the beauty of her body, and with it the intense desire I had to throw her down and fuck her, so I shut them. I concentrated upon the end of my staff, the one and only place we were touching, flesh on flesh.

I felt her, slick and soft, inside. And the faint beat of her heart, flushing her sweet flower red. She was warm, like a cozy fire on a cold day. This was an embrace, a sweetly intimate one. I do not know how long we stayed poised there, but she was incredible, maintaining the position. The stillness erased the difference between us. The bright spark of pleasure at the very tips of us was neither wholly hers nor mine.

My eyes opened as I felt her moving. With impressive fluidity, she guided more of me into her, shifting to kneel over me. She was now high on her knees, her breasts level with my face. I knew I must shut my eyes, but the rosy pink of her nipples, the pebbling of their blushing halos, and the soft pillows of her full breasts. I wanted to crush her in my arms, suckle at her breasts, pound my sex into her until she sobbed her bliss.

I was still.

She had taken only a little more of me inside her, but the warmth spread farther. Her lips glistened with our mingled juices. My shaft was bright with her spell, and I watched, mesmerized, as a droplet of her honey fell upon the turgid skin of my staff, to run down into my own black mane.

Her pulse was stronger inside her. The link had been forged, now was being reinforced. My staff had turned into my eyes and my ears, my fingertips and my tongue. I felt something inside her, like a great, glowing mass at her center, smelling of summer wine and tasting of ocean wind. My heart raced. My breathing hitched.

"Open your eyes," Phaeliope murmured.

I had not realized I'd closed them. I obeyed, finding the liquid gold of hers fixed on mine. I moaned her name.

She smiled, her face flushed. "Calm yourself. Do you feel my heart?"

I nodded. "I feel so much."

"Can you feel my breath?"

I did, as though she were breathing through her sex. A soft pulse, not precisely in time with her heartbeat, but close. Both steady, only the edge of excitement. "Yes."

"Match the beat of my heart. Breathe with me."

"My bliss is close."

She shook her head. "It is not. You will hold it, and when it is time, you will know."

"I can...there is a trick--" I was going to describe what I had learned at Comfort House, the secret to staving off pleasure.

"No tricks, my sweet areteos. Breathe with me." She inhaled, nodding to me to do the same. I matched her, and where we joined began to crest and fall, like waves.

"I want to kiss you," I said.

"I know. Perhaps you will."

She sank a short distance. This would be a difficult position for her. The muscles of her thighs would be flexed here continuously, no longer all the way up nor all the way down. They quivered, but nothing deeper gripped them. She might appear softer than the other amazons, but she still possessed their incredible strength and poise.

I was farther inside her now. Perhaps it was simply because I had never experienced a woman like her before, but her sex felt far more complex than any I had felt. It was as though her whole body was caught up in it, and that the natural parts of her existence had turned to pleasure. Subtle, delicate sensation, that in the absence of all others, had become insistent and thunderous.

Her posture made more sense to me now. Had she started on her knees, she might have had to angle me slightly. In this way, she was able to slide down me, taking me in one delicious inch at a time. No warning came with this, merely beautiful, agonizing lengths of stillness, then a deliberate sinking upon me, and I would be deeper inside of her. Then, the pause as we soaked in one another.

Time had ceased to have any sort of meaning. When she finally took me utterly, forcing the second change in her posture, we could have been at this for days or merely heartbeats. All I could be certain of was that the Axichan night was still heavily upon us. I was little more than a mass of sensation, held together solely by my will. Her sex enclosed mine in a velvet vise, her pulse threading with mine, her breath passing through me.

She eased her legs around, and now she was sitting on my lap. She had swallowed me completely. I felt her completely, the delirious embrace of her. It was every ounce of my willpower not to trust into her, to fill her womb with my seed. I would not.

I thought she would begin to rock, but she did not. She remained still, the only motion in her coming from breath and heartbeat. These tiny sensations touched each other like ripples in a pond, kissing the others, rebounding, and building. What was a single ripple now encompassed the entire surface of the water. So too was this incredible act. This place we were joined in stillness now consumed me. I was inside her in a way I had never felt.

We did not move. The night outside was as velvet, as soft and secret as the embrace of her sex.

Inside her, I felt as though I were growing. I had experience shadows of this before, but this was different. In the absence of anything else, perhaps, or because she had bewitched me. My staff swelled, continuing to fill her. There could be no more space within her. And yet I kept surging. I was certain that I must have somehow pushed into her womb itself, or her belly, so big had I become. I knew it was impossible, but the feelings were insistent.

"Do you feel it?" she asked.

"Like I am...I have never been this deep."

"There is deeper still. Hold fast, my sweet areteos." Her hand game up unbidden, her graceful fingers momentarily caressing my face. Her arms settled over my shoulders, and this contact, so pedestrian, sparked shivers all over me.

And still I grew. I must have been her spine now. The energy I had sensed, that taste of ocean wind and smell of summer wine was all about me. It consumed me. And then, I was behind her eyes, pressing up against the top of her head. I had the mad thought that if she opened her mouth, the head of my staff would poke obscenely out.

I closed my eyes, sinking into the incredible embrace. I cannot say how long the bliss swirled about me. It felt like an eternity. Every point of me was covered in dancing pleasure, as delicate as a fall flower, as powerful as the dawn.

Her heart beat faster, her breath was quicker. My rhythms matched hers, my willpower utterly focused on the woman impaled upon my length. She still did not move, not so much as a twitch of her hips. She was incredible, magnificent. I knew them the incomparable privilege of laying with her. She was an avatar of this ancient and beautiful civilization. And for this moment, she was mine.

My bliss was not sudden. It was inexorable. I felt it pushing free of me, igniting every inch as it surged from me. This was no mere blinding explosion, to be exulted in for scant seconds, then luxuriate in the aftermath. No, this was a continual flow of pleasure, like floodwaters tearing the side from a mountain. I felt myself pulsing into her, again and again, washes of my seed, deep inside her, more than I ever thought was possible.

She closed her eyes, crying out but once, her statuesque body consumed in a delicious tremble. We lay there, helpless against the pleasure for impossibly long, the bliss hitting in wave after wave.

Finally, we stilled. I felt myself, still inside her, softening. I was no longer this massive beast impaling her. I was brought back down to mortal.

She opened her golden eyes and smiled at me like a cat. "Do you see?"

I nodded. "I see." I leaned over, and she met my lips. My kiss was exhausted, but the caress of her tongue on mine was needed. Only then did she get up. I looked at where we were joined. We were soaked, our fleece matted with pearly juice, a strand joining me with her. I lay back, trying to recover my wind.

"Sleep," she said, stroking my hair. "I will join you soon."

As I drifted into the heavy dark, I realized that outside, the sun was rising.

I spent the rest of my week with Phaeliope. We lay together in her way once again. I took her in mine. After what she had shown me, my way felt like the rutting of animals. I showed her what Allegeth had taught me, and she found this fascinating. I wanted to be with her in every way I could. I worshiped her with my body, bringing her as much pleasure as I could.

"I was wondering something, my areteos," she said one night after we had exhausted ourselves.

I looked up at her. My head was pillowed on her magnificent breasts. I had spent that evening exploring every inch of them with my mouth, and she had found her bliss at least once in the act. "What?"

"Your magic is that of the storm. Can you fly?"

"Once." I told her the story of the time Allegeth lay together outside Ul Adrax.

"During the act of love. Fascinating. It is not often that two areteoi can explore our powers together. We should take advantage."

"Does that include loveplay?"

She laughed. "Oh, my sweet wizard. It would have to."

I climbed atop her, kissing her face. She laughed again, her golden eyes alight. "We should start now."

She was about to protest, but I dropped between her legs, teasing her sweet flower, and whatever arguments she was to make were swallowed.

Naeri's Revenge left Megannis a day behind schedule. We returned to the waves and hunting was good. My tent sisters warmed my bed, but my thoughts were with Phaeliope. I thought of the areteos more even than I thought of my concubines back in Castellandria. In my more foolish moments, I thought of asking Phaeliope to join us. It was a silly thought. She could not be possessed. She was like the dawn.

In the following months, I returned to her as often as I could manage. Our attack on Medes Ridge had not turned the tide in Thessandreia. The Heacharids had reinforced and overrun every amazon position to the very borders of Megannis, though they paid for every inch of ground. The soil of Thessandreia was soaked in blood. Soon Naeri's Revenge was fighting about the bay, picking at the edges of a fleet too vast to engage.

As skilled as my crew and as powerful as my magics, we could not stand and fight. If one ship pinned us in place, we could be surrounded and we would be brought down. Heacharids are always willing to drown an enemy in Heacharid blood. We had to keep to our hunting, ambushing ships, sinking them, and getting away. Meanwhile the Heacharids continued to strangle.

The last time I saw Phaeliope, we made port after a naval engagement that had gone in our favor. The blockade about Megannis was momentarily gone, but we were under no illusions. The Heacharids would soon return with more ships. Their eye was upon Megannis. Once it fell, Thessandreia would be theirs.

The streets of Megannis held more people, and these thinner, skins gray with hunger and sickness. They needed to be taken to another island, but the ships present did not have the room. We would save some, but most would be consigned to the mercy of the Heacharids, to be enslaved or slain outright.

I found Phaeliope in her home, and that night our lovemaking was desperate.

"Come with me," I murmured to her, deep into the night.

"I cannot. I am given to defend this land."

"This land is fallen."

She smiled sadly, touching my face. "It is not fallen yet. There is still hope. I am leaving in the morning to break a path to Eolene. All you need to do is keep our port open. If we are fed, we can hold the Heacharids here and break them upon these rocks."

"Phaeliope, I beg you."

She smiled at me, and I think of the sadness I saw there often. She knew she was going to her death. I wish I knew why she felt so compelled. Perhaps it was the weight of eternity. "I will go, my lovely areteos. And we will return to this bed often."

She was gone in the morning and I returned to my ship. Thessandreia was overrun not long after. Phaeliope was killed, her body displayed in the harbor at Megannis until it rotted to pieces.

My rage came upon them like a storm.