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. "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, 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 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.

"Older than the world?" I asked.

She blushed, a fetching expression on her fine-boned face. "I do not believe the world was made all at once. I believe there are places that go beyond the few millennia we can trace."

"I never looked for such things," I said. "If I am ever able to leave the war behind and return to my explorations, I shall." It felt like such a foolish promise. I could not know that I would begin them sooner than I thought, though not in the manner I dreamed.

Oddrin uttered a soft hiss, and I followed his attention. A pair of eyes stared at me from the Heacharid side of the main thoroughfare. I saw Theophilia Bardane watching me, a pair of bodyguards not far away. I could have killed all three of them. A single bolt through her, forked to the two of them. Then all three would be my stormwights. Diotenah was dead, but some piece of her remained in the ring. I felt her whispering, like soft breath caressing my ear. She approved of this idea. I felt my left hand, where I wore her ring, twitching with the beginnings of a spell.

"One of the envoys," Teidestra said, following my gaze. "So young. She doesn't look capable of their evil."

"Looks can deceive."

"What if she is not?" mused Teidestra.

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying, what if one of their envoys was sympathetic to our cause? Negotiations have turned on less. The Mairault League's war against the Bildousan Dynasty. Ended when the Mairish seduced an advisor, and now Mairault has three more islands than it had."

"I am no good at talking to these people. You should do it."

"I am not the one she wants."

"For Axichis," I said.

"Oh, you are no delicate flower," teased the historian. "You are a mighty adventurer. What could be more of an adventure than bedding a Heacharid?"

"Bedding an amazon?"

"If you have not already done that, I would be quite surprised."

I chuckled. "Well..."

She laughed. "I was joking!"

"My hetairoi assured me that it was a custom."

"It can be," she said, shaking her head. "It's hardly required."

"I have a weakness for beauty."

She paused, looking me over, her expression hardening ever so slightly. "You should direct this charm at the Heacharid."

I took her hint. "Very well."

I made my way across the thoroughfare. Theophilia's bodyguards straightened at my approach. I wondered what Einoë and Kallea were doing. The last I saw them, they were flirting with Ikapeia's hetairoi. Drawing close to a Heacharid brought with it a certain amount of danger. Perhaps these bodyguards would take me as a threat, and then the piece of Diotenah whispering in my mind would get what it wanted.

Theophilia, tiny, exquisite Theophilia, met my eyes and set her shoulders. She was showing me that she was not frightened. Yet I saw the fear in the waver of her eyes and in the tremble of her hands. She wanted to flee, but she would not allow herself to succumb.

"Good evening," I said to her in Akleona.

"Good evening." She had a Heacharid accent, softer than most that I'd heard. Granted, the accent I was most familiar with belonged to sailors, a group never renowned for refined speaking habits. "You are the Dreadstorm."

"I've been called that. I am Belromanazar of Thunderhead."

"Theophilia Bardane of House Tzimis." She said this as though I should know what this meant, so I nodded. "You are not what I imagined."

"No?"

"The Dreadstorm is a necromancer. I expected you to be wearing the skulls of the slain sons of Heacharium. To be attended by a phalanx of wights."

"I was asked to leave my wights behind so as not to offend your delegation."

I watched her fight to keep the reaction from her expression. A fire sparked behind her eyes and even that confused me. It was not quite fear and not quite desire, but something else that should have sent me retreating from her. I was about to probe further, to perhaps discover the meaning behind her look, but a bell rang from the south side of the village, cutting me off.

"I'm being called to prayer," she said.

"I know."

"You know of our religion?"

"I know when you are commanded to pray. I've found it to be a good time to attack."

This time her eyes widened, which was impressive considering their size. "Excuse me, Dreadstorm. It was an honor to make your acquaintance."

"Until tomorrow," I said. I watched her shuffle south, joining lines of her people as they went to the chapel they'd erected just outside Vekou. I returned to Teidestra, who had been watching from across the street.

"You let her go," the historian said.

"She had to pray." I paused, turning my attention fully to my friend. "What about you? Would you perhaps like to accompany me on a walk?"

"I need my rest, wizard. Negotiations commence tomorrow, and my knowledge will be called upon."

"And if you didn't?"

She smiled at me. "You will be forced to wonder."

I chuckled as she walked away, giving me a sway of her hips beneath her chiton. I shook my head and finished my soup. The Heacharid side of town was silent as they were deep in their religious observance. I returned to Klaomeia's home and slept deeply for the night.

I was present for the negotiations, but I was not to speak. I was there to be the Dreadstorm. The unspoken promise that if the talks went poorly, I would be unleashed upon the Heacharids again. I was a blade suspended over their necks, begging for an excuse to fall. In practice, I was not called upon to do much more than stand in one corner and watch.

The Heacharids offered peace in exchange for three islands: Thessandreia, Elepetra, and Khedes. Though they had only conquered one, the other two had been successfully invaded. Gaiadia returned an offer of withdrawal and tribute. There was not much movement for the first several days.

I was surprised. The Heacharids seemed to be approaching negotiations in good faith. I had never been close to a Heacharid without killing him, so this was a new experience for me.

I kept an eye on Theophilia. She served her delegation well, advising Ducas on the twists and turns of the negotiations. Her eyes fell on me often, and when I caught her gaze, I held it. Teidestra had advised me on the pursuit of her, and I trusted the historian's opinion. I also hoped to bed Theophilia, and if doing so aided Axichis, so much the better. I was not convinced the Heacharids had those sorts of emotional or even carnal needs. To me, seducing a Heacharid made as much sense as seducing an oak tree.

I got to know my opposite number across the central hall. A Heacharid paladin, he wore the enameled plate of his order, his tabard emblazoned with the burning rose. His name was Cerularius Phrantzes, and he was apparently the hero of Thessandreia. I wondered if he had anything to do with the murder of Phaeliope. I stared at him with hatred, and soon his eyes met mine. His were a deep, soulless blue. Every day I stood across from Cerularius, I imagined facing him in battle. I thought of how wonderfully his armor would make a home for my lightning, how well he would serve as one of my stormwights. Again, Diotenah's whispers commanded me to slay him. I would not in these negotiations, but our paths would cross soon enough.

One evening after negotiations stalled for the day, I was out walking, Einoë and Kallea trailing behind. I looked out over the sea, wondering if peace truly was at hand. This awful war, could soon be finished on this unassuming part of an unassuming island. It didn't seem real.

The worst part was that I wasn't certain I wanted the war to end.

"Dreadstorm?"

Theophilia approached along the path, the wind gently tugging her robes against her figure. At times, the robes were plastered against her, making her appear almost nude. Her two bodyguards gave her space, though I couldn't help notice the way their hands hovered over the pommels of their swords. It was almost funny, them thinking they could do a single thing about it if I decided to kill the three of them.

"I have a name," I said.

"Not to us."

I was not naïve. I knew that some of the work of the peace talks would be done after hours, in quiet places. This is one of the most important duties for envoys like Theophilia. Yet I was not the obvious target. I was there as a threat. I had no official voice in the proceedings.

"You come to tell me that we'd be foolish not to take the deal?"

She stopped within arm's reach of me, looking out over the darkening seas. "You would be."

"I am not one of the diplomats."

"They would not have brought you here if they did not respect your opinions."

"I am here to frighten your side," I said.

She swallowed. "You have been serving well in that regard."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Yes you have." She paused. "You like that we're frightened of you."

"Are you frightened of me?"

A pause, an intake of breath. "Yes."

"Is it because you think I can kill you or that I shall kill you?"

Another pause. "Yes."

I allowed myself a low chuckle. "Tell me. What do they say about the Dreadstorm? Who do they say I am?"

"That you are a necromancer from the savage north, here on a grand harvest of souls. They say you have not a single care for the war itself, that it is merely an excuse for slaughter."

I made a noncommittal noise.

"Is it true?"

"That I am collecting the souls of the ones I kill? Yes." A lie, but she didn't need to know that. If my purpose was to be a figure of nightmare, I'd best help build the legend myself.

"What do you do with them?"

"Whatever I like." I let her sit with that reply. "Why are you here?"

"I was ordered to be part of the delegation. My holy order--"

"No, why is the Heacharid Empire here?"

"We are taking only what was promised."

"Promised? By whom?"

"Xomera promised us the horizons if we would only bear her purifying light."

"Xomera didn't happen to mention the rest of us, did she?"

"Those who submit will earn her favor. Those who don't...you cannot force salvation upon those who turn away from the light."

"If this is your goal, why would you stop?"

"I don't understand."

"Your goddess promised you this place. Why would you not fight for what she promised? Why offer a treaty?"

Theophilia swallowed. I saw her wrestling with whether to speak her thoughts. What I didn't know, what my prejudice had blinded me of, was the idea of a Heacharid capable of duplicity. Theophilia was a loyal Heacharid her entire life, but she had aspirations of her own. She was almost elflike in her ability to plan in the long term.

"There is a cost to every conquest. This one is proving expensive."

"All of Aucor isn't under your boot yet. Seems silly to reach beyond. You had thought this would be a stepping stone, didn't you? Take Axichis and use it as a waypoint to Chassudor?"

"The barbarian north could use our light."

I tried to imagine how Rhandonia would handle that. We were barely a kingdom. Yes, a king ostensibly ruled us, a collection of petty baronies, dukedoms, relatively free cities. But I had little in common with a Rhandonian from the south. In fact, I could scarcely understand their dialect of Rhandic. "I think you would be disappointed in how receptive we Rhandonians would be to a single deity."

"Are you a man of faith?"

"No."

"You do not follow the gods?"

"I do not believe in them."

"But they are real. Their power is manifest."

"Precisely. They don't need my help."

"That is blasphemy."

"I am a necromancer, am I not? Blasphemy is part of the vocation."

"I think the Rhandonian people would welcome us."

"As the amazons have," I said. "Why are you here?"

"I told you, Xomera--"

"Now I am asking about you. Why were you, Theophilia Bardane, chosen for what is an important conference?"

"I am the leading expert in the Empire on Axichis."

"You're young. If you're the leading expert, that does not seem like any were studying it for long."

She blushed, keeping her eyes on mine. "True."

"And what did the leading expert on Axichis think would happen when you invaded? That the amazons would welcome you?"

"I was not consulted," she said.

"This does not anger you?"

"No! It is not the purpose of an academic to advise in this manner. Those who commune with Xomera will know. They will make the decisions."

"That is foolish."

"You are not a man of faith." She looked to me, and in that moment, her eyes softened. "Heacharium is a gift, given by Xomera. Our art, our literature, our music, all second to none. What you see as conquest, is more accurately a sharing of our gifts with the world."

"I have seen some small section, and it is variety that sparks my imagination."

"And that is foolish. What is variety but infinite ways to be wrong? To be lesser? Better to seek the purity at the heart of us all, a purity Xomera will help free."

"With your people at the top."

"The world needs rulers."

"The world could use fewer rulers."

Her smile spread. "We are in agreement. I propose to reduce the number of rulers to one."

"Have you looked at the island? Before your people arrived, it was grazing lands, farms, olive groves. Your invasion has ruined it. You would make a wasteland of this place and call it purity."

"It will heal. A generation, maybe two. It will become paradise."

"Not if I stop you. I will take as many of your people as I have to."

She reached out, a sudden, birdlike gesture, her soft hand on my arm for only a moment. "Thank you, Dreadstorm. I must away but I would like to continue this conversation later."

Then she walked away, rejoining her bodyguards and retreating to the south side of the village. Her hips swayed a bit more than necessary. Clumsily too, the Heacharid envoy unused to such games. I could not understand what had sparked this in her. I thought we were growing angry with one another, but no. I had seen arousal enough times to know that this was part of the dance of seduction for her. Teidestra had been right, but for the first time I was concerned for myself.

The negotiations continued. Gaiadia gave up on Thessandreia early, and eventually agreed to ceding Elepetra. A new sticking point developed.

"We will, of course, require every Axichan your people have taken to be returned," Gaiadia said.

"Axichans?" Ducas asked, shocked. "If you're referring to the slaves, they were taken lawfully. They are valuable property of citizens of the Empire."

I bristled at the sentiment. I think everyone on my side of the table did. The negotiations turned after that, the Heacharids considering all the amazons they had enslaved since the start of the war as a just price for all the dying they'd done since. It was all I could do to not promise them more death.

That night, I was too angry to be around anyone. I went for a walk, tracing the line of the cliff. Einoë and Kallea must have sensed my agitation as they kept their distance. I would have liked them gone entirely, but such were the oaths of the hetairoi that they would never leave me.

I hiked up the path, finding an old one-room building that had likely been used by goatherds who wanted to get out of the cold for a few moments. It had very little, merely a bench and a cold firepit, but I felt a sense of coziness. It reminded me of similar buildings along the coast where I grew up, where fishermen often spent frigid nights.

My boot scratched along the soot-stained floor. My thoughts spiraled. What had we done? This place had been at peace, and now, Elepetra was a wasteland. Even if the Heacharids were thrown back, it would take the island years to recover. A generation or two by Theophilia's reckoning. All because they believed they were owed this place. Talking with them was the height of folly. We should attack while their guard was down. Give me a few phalanxes, I thought, and I could take Alissos back myself. I would march at the head of an undead army.

A foolish daydream, but staring at the ash-filled firepit, I nearly believed it. I found myself going to the small woodpile and building a fire. Soon it was crackling, and I sat on the bench, staring into the orange flames. There I saw the great cities of the Heacharids, brought low. Fantasy and vision can easily be mistaken for one another.

"Tent brother." Kallea stood in the doorway, her voice pulling me from my reverie. "You were being followed."

"An assassin?"

"Doubtful, but..." she shrugged. "Einoë has her."

I knew then who she meant. At that moment, I did not know what I would do. There was a chance I would kill her then and there. Hurl her from the cliffs, let the sea take her. Or I could end her with lightning. Let her exist in a cursed state as one of my undead thralls. Diotenah's power whispered its approval.

"What of her bodyguard?"

"We saw no others."

"Bring her in."

Kallea disappeared from the doorway. A moment later, Theophilia slunk in, her eyes down and her shoulders slouched. The two hetairoi followed, Kallea watching the Heacharid while Einoë's smirk was malicious. They had reached the same conclusion. We could add another Heacharid corpse to the pile.

"Where are your bodyguards?" I asked.

"Abed," she said.

"No one knows you're here."

She shook her head. "Only you and your hetairoi." I was momentarily surprised she knew the term, and then remembered what she had told me about her qualifications.

"I could cast you off this cliff if I wished."

"Yes," she said, shivering.

"Why are you here?"

She swallowed, a momentary indecision in her eyes. Then, determination. I had seen the ghost of this several times, as though she had been reaching for this moment, but uncertain she could. Deliberately, she undid a clasp at her shoulder. Her robes fell away, revealing her exquisite nude body. Her breasts were modest, not even handfuls, upturned and capped with brown nipples now hardening in the air. Her body was slender, her hips small. My hungry gaze found the triangle of black curls between her thighs. The firelight danced over her small body, shadows pooling in soft corners.

"I wish to be yours, Dreadstorm, to make a slave of me for a night. For a week. For as long as we are upon this isle." She said it as though she had been rehearsing the words in her mind, a combination of rote and desperate need that inflamed my desire.

I cocked my head. "And if I choose to cast you into the rocks below?"

She shuddered, sucking in a breath. "Then I shall die."

My gaze flickered to Einoë and Kallea. Kallea watched Theophilia hungrily. Einoë met my eyes, her smirk widening. I made my decision. "Get her ready for me," I ordered.

Without hesitation, Einoë grabbed Theophilia's upper arms. The Heacharid whimpered at the sudden movement, and the amazon pushed her inside. "Move, Heacharid dog. You're my tent brother's plaything for the night."

Einoë hooked her arms through Theophilia's, immobilizing her, and presenting the nude Heacharid to the room. Kallea looked back at me and I gave her a nod. "She'll need to be wet."

Kallea dropped to her knees, roughly spreading Theophilia's legs. The Heacharid struggled, trying to close herself, but Kallea kept them spread, her face going to the fleece between Theophilia's thighs. I knew Kallea's technique well; I'd seen her use it many times on Einoë. She was the gentler of the pair, but not here. Perhaps it was the prospect of doing this to a Heacharid that unleashed her aggression.

Sweat sprung over Theophilia's pale olive complexion. First a glow, then droplets, covering her like a leaf in morning dew. And like that same leaf, she shook as Kallea's skill took over. The Heacharid's body shuddered, her movements halfway between trying to writhe away from Kallea's ministrations, and encouraging them along. She was locked in a bliss she was not certain she wanted, a slave to her own unlocked desire.

Einoë's grin had not vanished as she held Theophilia fast. "Will I get a turn?"

"I could never deny my tent sister," I said.

"Never ate a Heacharid," she mused.

Kallea looked up, her mouth glistening. "She tastes like Melisian wine."

Theophilia mewled something unintelligible. Kallea's hand went to the envoy's sex, sliding fingers inside, pumping them in her, bringing them out to tease at her pearl. I watched the tattoos on each phalange vanish and reappear, growing shinier with each new exploration.

"I thought them prudes, but this one is wanton," Kallea said.

"Perhaps she merely wanted for a skilled lover," I said.

"Perhaps she wanted for a woman," Einoë teased.

"Careful," I teased back, "if you want to taste her."

Einoë chuckled, gathering Theophilia's arms more tightly behind her. Kallea returned to her ministrations. Now the little Heacharid was gasping, her hips rocking desperately against Kallea's face.

"She's close, tent brother," Kallea said, licking her lips between strokes.

Theophilia never stopped moving. "Please," she begged.

"Please?" I asked.

"Finish me."

"You heard her," I said.

"No," she whined, but that was gone in a ragged moan as Kallea returned to work. Theophilia's voice grew higher, her gasps louder, and when Kallea's mouth clamped over the apex of her slit, the Heacharid broke, her body quaking helplessly. I watched the bliss reverberate through her body. Behind her, her trembling shadow loomed in the firelight.

I stood up from the bench, gesturing to it. "Bend her over."

Einoë escorted her to where I had recently sat, while I pulled Kallea to her feet. My tent sister wrapped her arms around my neck, her lips finding mine. I tasted Theophilia on her lips, and she did indeed taste like wine, smoky and complex. It was all I could do not to take Kallea there, but I wanted Theophilia that night. I held my hetairos, kissing her hard, my hand finding her hip beneath her armored kilt.

Einoë forced Theophilia down, the Heacharid's palms on the bench, her hindquarters out, her hips up. Her sex was splayed, wet and inviting, a slice of pink like exotic fruit. She looked over her shoulders, her eyes filmy with need, a soft please on her lips.

Einoë got to her knees, running her tongue up the backs of Theophlilia's thighs, her mouth finding where Kallea's had been. Theophlia murmured a soft protest, her eyes pleading with me to take over. I would not yet be moved. Einoë buried her face between the Heacharid's folds, and soon the envoy was pushing back into the amazon's tongue.

"How do you think her mouth is?" I murmured to Kallea.

"You should try her out."

"No, I think you should try her out."

Kallea's grin widened. "Why tent brother, I think you're right."

The amazon stripped off, revealing her magnificently toned body. Once again, my desire called to her, demanding that I bend her over next to Theophilia and take her roughly. I controlled myself, allowing the need to build in my loins like a snarling beast. Though I had lain with my hetairoi many times, I never tired of them. Their inquisitive technique and boundless athleticism made them ideal partners. As she moved, her tattoos rippled over her flesh, making them appear to be warriors in action. Her sex was bright, a few droplets of moisture already clinging to the short hairs at her lips.

She stopped in front of Theophilia. "My tent brother wishes a test of your mouth."

"No," murmured the Heacharid. "I want him."

"Do well and you might get him." Kallea gathered a handful of Theophilia's thick black hair in her fist.

"I've never...to a woman," she said, disgust and desire warring in her voice.

"Learn quickly," Kallea said, pulling Theophilia forward while grinding her sex into the Heacharid's face.

I watched as the humiliated envoy stuck her tongue out, tentatively exploring the amazon's body. Einoë had paused, and then, flashing me a devilish grin, moved to the young woman's rosebud. Theophilia squealed as the amazon began to kiss, a squeal that was swiftly muffled by Kallea's glistening folds.

I watched Theophilia get taken from either end. My tent sisters were cruel that night. Einoë was intent upon the rosebud, parting the Heacharid's buttocks, driving her tongue into the winking hole. Kallea was just as brutal, keeping Theophilia's hair balled in one fist, taking her pleasure.

I dropped my robes. Oddrin perched on the windowsill, his glow joining with the fire, uttering a faint hiss. I stroked my staff to full hardness. Theophilia's pleasure grew more insistent. Despite, or perhaps because of the shame I saw on her face, she pushed back against Einoë's tongue, as though to drive it deeper into her bowels. Meanwhile, she could do nothing more than lick and suck at Kallea, desperate to bring the quivering amazon to bliss.

Einoë reached beneath Theophilia's undulating body, caressing along her starved slit, and when she touched the pearl at the apex of her sex, the Heacharid stiffened, crying out into Kallea's folds. Theophilia convulsed, her entire body little more than a series of quakes.

"No, no more," she mewled, as Einoë continued to idly stroke her slit.

"But our tent brother hasn't had his turn."

"And I am not finshed," Kallea said, forcing Theophilia's mouth back to her sex. "Are all mainlanders' mouths so untrained?"

"Our tent brother's isn't."

"Yes, but he had an amazon to train him."

"Not to gainsay," I said, "but was a Chassudorian woman who taught me the knight's kiss."

"Knight's kiss," Einoë sneered. "Such a weak name for pearl diving."

"Do you hear, Heacharid cur?" purred Kallea, grinding her hips against Theophilia. "My pearl. Find my pearl. Oh yes." The Heacharid had obeyed and Kallea's breath came quicker, her flesh glowing by the firelight. Her hand went to her breast, kneading the mound and pinching the nipple.

I stepped up behind Theophilia. Einoë took my staff in hand, running her tongue down my length and taking me into her mouth. Her tongue danced, her saliva rushing over me. She had become an adept spear-polisher in our time together. I looked down, at Theophilia's sex, her buttocks, her rosebud wet with spit. Then over her writhing back to where her mouth met Kallea's orchid. Then up the amazon's body, where the muscles of her abdomen flexed, the tattoos dancing over them, then up to her breasts, and to her face. She opened her eyes, her face flushed, smiling at me.

"She's getting better." Then she shivered, closing her eyes as Theophilia found a new spot. Whether the Heacharid had a taste for pearl before this night, she seemed to have acquired one now.

Einoë released me from her mouth and lined me up at the gates of Theophilia. The Heacharid felt me, her sex hot on mine. She pushed back, a small whining sound in her throat. I slapped her buttocks once. She squealed, fading into a moan. I gave her another slap. My handprint faded on her soft skin. She pressed back, her body begging for me.

"Tell me," I said. A slap. "Tell me."

She turned, her eyes smoky, her lips red, covered with Kallea's juices. "Please, Dreadstorm. Fill me."

I should have listened to her words. But I was besotted with lust, this decadent display before me, this humiliated enemy begging to be conquered. Instead of listening, I obeyed. Foolish, wasn't it? To think I could be the conqueror when doing what she demanded.

I impaled her roughly, her sex gripping mine. I watched her eyes roll back into her head, her face turn into a mask of bliss. She shuddered, her mouth gaping open. I hammered myself into her, riding her own bliss as she shuddered around me.

Kallea had been forgotten, but Einoë was seeing to her. Both nude, their hands were between each other's legs, watching as I roughly took the Heacharid on the bench. The amazons had already broken the floodgates on Theophilia's pleasure. I watched the endless waves of bliss crashing through her in violent quakes. She made the most delicious sounds, a series of choked sobs and soft whimpers. I clutched her hips, pushing myself up and in, forcing myself as deep into her as I could possibly delve.

She was loud now, crying out as though her soul were being torn in two. Each one of my thrusts brought her off the ground entirely. The pleasure in me was a great, surging mass, as powerful as the stormy sea. I would hold it because I knew this to be unbearable for Theophilia. She was beyond any kind of sense, a rag doll at the mercy of untold pleasure.

I held on for as long as I could, but soon there was no stopping it. The ecstasy exploded from me. My seed filled her womb in great, white-hot gouts. I dropped to my knees, Theophilia still impaled upon me. She squeaked with this sudden movement, her body quaking afresh. Only after a moment of gathering herself was she able to reach back, her hand soft against my cheek.

"Oh, Dreadstorm. Was I acceptable?"

I turned her face to mine, kissing her savagely. I tasted Kallea on her lips, plundered more flavor with my tongue. "You were," I murmured.

My hands ran up her ribs, to caress her breasts. Her nipples hardened under my touch, her skin blooming with gooseflesh. "Dreadstorm?"

I lifted her from me, turning her about to cradle her, kissing her lips and her jaw. I was only scarcely aware of my hetairoi locked in their lewd embrace. I was enchanted with the little Heacharid in my lap. Yes, I was a fool. I should have seen her motive. I could not. Nothing turns me into a fool more surely than a beautiful woman.

I eased the finger of my left hand into her mouth. Her eyes widened as the cold digit moved past her lips. "Suck," I commanded.

She obeyed, taking the finger all the way to the skeletal ring at the base. I think she sensed the power within, as she shuddered, her body beginning to writhe. I felt myself hardening, a smile spreading over my lips. We were not yet done for the evening.

Theophilia lay with me nightly after that. I should have been suspicious that her bodyguards had grown so lax, but since it led to me once again finding bliss in the arms of the little Heacharid, I did not question. She would sneak into my chamber and slip into my bed, and we would occupy ourselves to exhaustion. Sometimes Einoë and Kallea would join us, but most often it was merely Theophilia and me.

Late in the night after one such bout of loveplay, we lay upon my bed in an affectionate embrace. She was on her side, her head pillowed on my chest. I stroked her hair, the cold finger of my left hand summoning shivers from her. She loved the caress of that finger more than any. Whenever she paid attention to that finger, I felt Diotenah's presence, heard the sibilant whispers in my mind. I should have given in.

"When the war is over, what will you do?" she asked me.

"I have a home in Castellandria. I will return there."

"And what is waiting for you there?"

"A pair of women of exceptional quality."

"More amazons?" she teased.

"No," I said. I couldn't imagine what a Heacharid would think of sharing my home with a djinn and a darkling. It should not have mattered to me, but I had started to imagine Theophilia there too. "What will you do?"

"Return home as well," she said.

"Is there a man waiting for you?"

"Of course not. I am a Heacharid woman of good standing."

I chuckled. "Would you still be if they knew what I've just done to you?"

She blushed prettily. "I am of a noble house. Perhaps, if they knew...I would not have as many prospects."

I was silent. "You could come with me."

"To Castellandria?" she mused. "Be the bride of the Dreadstorm? Quite a scandal. My House would certainly suffer."

"You would live in peace. Away from the Heacharid spread."

She climbed atop me and looked into my eyes. "You wish to save me from my own people?"

"I wish to remove you from their worst impulses. I wish to take you into my household."

"You would put your heir in me?" she teased. "Or perhaps one of the others?"

"You would likely bear fruit sooner than they."

"Is this merely because you lay with me?"

"I want to take something from this war," I said. "Some bloom, albeit one watered with blood. Something beautiful that I can look upon with something other than hatred."

Once again, I saw the flicker in her eyes, a thought gone unvoiced, but insistent in its presence. Her hand went to my staff, banishing all thought from her and from me. "We will discuss it further later. In the meantime..." she eased herself down, ready to sink onto me once again. I had to smile. She was insatiable.

It was slavery that doomed the talks. The Axichans wanted their people returned. The Heacharids refused. Even when Ducas offered the amazons all of their territory back to keep the slaves they had taken, Gaiadia refused. It would be war again.

I often wonder if Gaiadia did the right thing. I wrestle with it. If she had taken Ducas at his weakest, she could have kept the archipelago. Axichis would still exist, albeit in a diminished state and paying tribute to the Heacharids, but it would be alive. Yet if they left their people in bondage, would it still be Axichis? Still be the state worthy of existence?

I know not. I likely never will. I am only grateful that I have never been forced into that decision. At the time, though, I could only think that this would be the time to spirit Theophilia away. Get her on a ship, the last through the returning blockade. Give her a letter of passage and send her to Zhahllaia and Sarakiel to await my return.

On the last day, when the negotiations had well and truly broken down, we had left the central hall, and each delegation was on edge, waiting for the other to attack. I wondered if they'd be so foolish. I hoped they'd try.

"If you'd like me to slay them all," I offered to Gaiadia.

"We came here under flag of truce and we will not be the ones to break the peace." She paused, her eyes going flinty. "But if they should attack, show them no mercy."

They did not attack. I looked for Theophilia, but I did not see her until she appeared at my doorstep in the late afternoon. She was far stealthier than one would imagine a simple envoy to be. Were it not for my hetairoi, she could have crept up on me unawares. I waved Einoë and Kallea off as Theophilia threw herself into my arms. Her kisses were desperate, and for a moment, I thought she planned for another bout of loveplay.

"Dreadstorm," she whispered. "I have an offer."

"Offer?" I asked.

"Keep your voice low," she hissed. "This is not for the ears of your hetairoi. Come to the edge of the village. You can slip out with our column."

"I don't understand."

"You can quit this war. Come to the Empire. You will be given lands, titles."

"I know what they do to wizards in your lands. I have fought your witchthralls."

"You would have position. A marriage would give you legitimacy."

"No, Theophilia. If you want to be with me, you can slip out with the amazons. I will have you on a ship to Castellandria in a week."

"I could not do that to our child."

The words crashed through my consciousness. It wasn't so much the words themselves but the tone with which she said them. "Our child."

She let me go, her hands going to her belly, still flat. "I am with child, Dreadstorm. Your child."

I looked into her blue eyes. I think it would be easier if I saw nothing more than cold calculation, but there was affection in them, perhaps even love.

"Was this your plan? Seduce me? Use an unborn child to force me out of this war?"

"No." She swallowed. "Yes. I thought...I thought this would be a way to serve Heacharium. You are our most dangerous foe, and I could remove you from the battlefield. A feat of cunning worthy of the great Heacharids of the past."

"You're a fiend."

"No!" Her voice was broken. She threw herself into my arms, her hands at my face. "The more I studied you, the more you became...more. More than a simple goal. Then I beheld you. And you took me. Made me feel things that I have never felt before. Xomera herself must guide you in matters of love. I love you, Dreadstorm. I want you to be father to the life growing inside me."

"Theophilia, I can't."

"Bring your other brides from Castellandria. Bring your hetairoi. You will be a noble, and a nobleman can have concubines, so long as he is discreet. I have grown to crave their touch as well. Please, Dreadstorm."

I gripped her wrists lightly, drawing them from me as though I were taking a sparrow from a tree. "Theophilia. I can't."

"This is a matter of honor? You promised yourself to the amazons. I understand, but there is no honor in a hopeless cause. You fought longer and better than any could expect. You can walk away with your honor intact."

"It is not merely my honor. The Heacharid Empire needs to be stopped."

"We will not be stopped here, Dreadstorm."

"That is not my name."

"Yes, it is," she said softly.

"You serve a poison. I do not know if it will be cured here, but it will be cured somewhere. I will do what I can to slow its curse. And now you ask me to become part of this poison? Husband to its curse?"

"So I am a poison? A curse?"

"Your empire is. Walk away. Let me put you on a ship. Raise our child in Castellandria."

"No," she said, stepping away from me. "You do not believe. You never did and you never could. My people are on a sacred mission. Perhaps you will understand one day. Perhaps you will return and be a husband and father. Or perhaps you will perish."

She left. I saw her once more that day, as her column moved out of the village. She never looked my way, staring resolutely south. I would see her again, many years later. Ironic that these peace talks were the place Melodora Bardane was conceived. Perhaps not, since these talks were only a month-long pause in the violence.

Melodora, my gentle daughter, was always fond of using such things as ruses. Ways to mass her armies for a killing stroke while her enemies paused in foolish hope. Perhaps I should have listened to what remained of Diotenah, and killed Theophilia when I had the chance.

But Theophilia was too clever. I could not hurt her, and I could not hurt the child inside her. I can only offer my atonement for the evil my daughter would one day unleash upon the world.