Griffin's Daughter

by Lelsie Ann Moore

  “I thank you. Your hospitality has been exceptional.”

  “You asked me earlier, m’lord,” Taura continued, “if anyone in the area had fallen ill with any unknown sickness, and I told you I wasn’t sure. Well, I heard later this afternoon that a man out on one of the farms that’d been attacked by the bandits has gotten sick, and it doesn’t look like anything anyone has seen before.”

  Ashinji frowned. “Does the man have strange swellings under his jaw and in his armpits and groin?” he asked.

  “Why, yes, I do believe that was what his wife said. So far, he’s the only one I know about, but there could be others.”

  Ashinji finished his dinner and thanked Taura and Mareo for their help.

  A sliver of moon winked coyly from behind a cloud, so the stars had the sky nearly to themselves tonight. A short walk brought Ashinji to where his company camped at the center of the village. Gendan and the others greeted him as he arrived. A couple of trestle tables had been set up, and the remains of a substantial meal littered plates and platters. Several oil lamps on poles illuminated the area.

  “Looks like you’ve all had just as good a dinner as I did,” Ashinji commented, glancing around at the members of the company sitting or lounging on the grass.

  “We’ve got some beer left, my lord, if you’re still thirsty,” said Gendan.

  “Oh, I think I could manage one more mug,” Ashinji responded, laughing. Gendan handed him an earthenware tankard filled to the brim, and Ashinji drained it in several swallows. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and put the empty tankard down on the table.

  “Gendan, Taura tells me that the plague has been reported on one of the farms recently attacked. That could mean that the bandits are infected.”

  “We’ve got to find them quickly then, and finish ‘em off, my lord,” Gendan replied.

  “We’ll ride directly to the fords tomorrow and cross over onto the Soldaran side,” Ashinji continued. “Maybe, if we’re lucky, we can find their camp, and if we are luckier still, they’ll all be there.” Ashinji sat down at the table beside the older man. “I suppose it’d be too much to hope that they can be persuaded to leave without us having to resort to bloodshed. I don’t mind telling you, Gendan, that I have no taste for killing wretches, even if they are human.”

  “I doubt we’ll have a choice, my lord,” Gendan replied a little sternly, sounding a bit like a schoolmaster chiding a pupil for faulty logic. “The plague’s got to be stopped.”

  “You’re probably right, but I pray you’re not,” Ashinji said thoughtfully.

  “Lord Ashinji, Captain Miri!” a voice called out from the darkness. “Kami is going to give us a song.” Kami was the youngest of the company, a girl possessed of great skill at arms and an exceptional singing voice.

  “We’ll worry about the bandits when we catch them, my lord. Right now, I just want to hear Kami sing,” Gendan said. Ashinji could see the flash of the captain’s even, white teeth in the lamplight.

  “A good plan, Captain,” Ashinji agreed.

  ~~~

  The Saihama River ran shallow and swift over a bed of gravel studded with larger rocks. These fords were the only place the river could be crossed for many leagues in either direction. The river had always been the undisputed boundary between the elven lands of Kerala on the north side, and the human duchy of Amsara to the south. This was the first time in many years that there had been any trouble. Amsara had never been a threat, despite its relative proximity, and Ashinji preferred to believe that the human lord of the duchy had no knowledge of the cross border attacks.

  The horses splashed into the water, ankle deep, and Ashinji called a halt to allow the animals to drink. On the far shore, the forest grew dense and dark. After the horses had drunk their fill, the company continued across and headed west along the gravel-strewn bank, paralleling the trees.

  “Stay alert, everyone,” Ashinji instructed. He scanned the trees and the ground ahead, looking for any clue that people might be near. Day’s end was near, and soon, nightfall would force them to break off their search and make camp.

  “What do you say, Gendan? Should we go on or stop for the night?”

  “Let’s continue on a little further, my lord,” Gendan suggested.

  “What do you sense, Captain?” Ashinji asked, staring intently into the craggy face of the older man. The shadow of his helmet obscured Gendan’s eyes, but Ashinji could see his mouth pursed thoughtfully.

  “I had a premonition this morning that we’d find what we were looking for today…no, that you, my lord, would find what you’ve been waiting for.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what the last bit means, but I have a very strong feeling that whatever it is, it’s close by.”

  Ashinji’s heart skipped a beat. “My father has always put his complete trust in your advice, Gendan, and so shall I. We’ll continue a little further.” He urged his horse onward.

  “Lord Ashinji, wait!” Gendan barked. Startled, Ashinji pulled up and turned in his saddle, frowning. Gendan pointed downstream. “Listen.”

  Ashinji heard it faintly at first, then more loudly. “Someone’s shouting… in Soldaran!” Ashinji exclaimed. “They seem to be headed right for us.” He checked the chin strap of his helmet and drew his sword. “Let’s go!” He spurred his black gelding, and the horse immediately leaped forward into a gallop.

  The company raced headlong down the riverbank, Ashinji and Gendan in the lead. Rocks shot out from underneath the horses’ flying hooves, ricocheting off the soldiers’ leather and metal clad bodies. As they thundered around a bend in the channel, Ashinji spotted a group of humans standing near the river’s edge. They all froze for a heartbeat, then turned and began racing away along the bank, all except two, who stood rooted to the spot, either too terrified or astonished to run. Ashinji tightened his grip on his sword hilt and prepared to strike.

  Suddenly, like deer startled by hunting hounds, the two humans leapt apart and away, the larger man taking off downstream after the rest of his retreating comrades, the smaller one—a boy from the look of him—running for the trees.

  Clever move, thought Ashinji as he twisted in the saddle to mark where the smaller human had gone. For an instant, it had looked as though the boy’s hands were glowing with magelight, but that was impossible. Humans had no magic.

  “Gendan!” he shouted, pulling up and turning his horse so sharply that it reared back on its haunches. “Go after the main group. You know enough Soldaran to offer them surrender. Kill them only if you have to. I’ll go after the boy.” Gendan nodded and galloped off, the company riding at his back. Ashinji spurred the gelding into a canter towards the woods.

  The trees were large and very close together, and Ashinji quickly decided that it would be pointless to ride in among them. The human boy would be able to evade him with ease. He halted and peered into the gloom, straining to detect any movement. The gelding whickered and looked off to the left, his black ears pointed forward. Turning his head ever so slightly, Ashinji looked out of the corner of his left eye in time to see a slight figure slip from the margin of the woods several yards upstream and start to run in the direction of the fords. He immediately gave chase.

  The boy glanced over his shoulder and saw that he had been spotted. He began sprinting hard, his feet a blur on the pebbles, but Ashinji knew the young human could not outrun a galloping horse.

  Please don’t make me hurt you,Ashinji thought grimly as he bore down on the fleeing boy.

  Suddenly, the boy tripped and went down. Ashinji shouted out a curse as he pulled back hard on the running horse, but it was too late to avoid riding over the boy’s prone body. He heard a scream of pain as he threw himself from the saddle and ran to crouch beside the fallen human.

  The boy lay very still, face down. His left arm was bent at an unnatural angle and blood soaked the torn cloth of his shirt over his ribcage. Ashinji could not see the boy’s face, only his shock of tightly coiled, mahogany locks. A shiver of recogn
ition passed through him. Slowly, he reached out, gripped the boy’s shoulders, and gently rolled him over.

  “Ai, Goddess!” Ashinji exclaimed. The shock of seeing her face drained all of the sensation from his arms and legs, leaving him unable to move. He sat down hard on his backside, staring. It was the girl from his dream!

  She moaned, and her eyes fluttered open, alighting on his face. They were bright with pain and fear. She opened her bloodstained mouth and tried to scream but could only manage a croak. She began groping weakly at the empty sheath fastened to her hip as if trying to draw a knife that no longer hung there.

  The look in her eyes revitalized Ashinji’s enervated limbs. “You must lie still,” he said softly in Soldaran. “My horse trampled you, and I do not know the extent of your wounds. I will not hurt you anymore, I swear.” He unbuckled the strap of his helmet and pulled it from his head, tossing it to the ground.

  If she can see my face, she might not feel so scared.

  It seemed to work. The girl stopped moving and began to stare at him, as if transfixed. “I have some poppy juice in my saddlebag,” he said. “It will ease your pain. I will go get it now.”

  Ashinji scrambled to his feet and spotted his horse a few paces away, head down, pulling at a tuft of grass growing among the stones. Quickly, he retrieved the poppy juice and returned to the girl’s side. He uncorked the vial and slipped his hand beneath her head. “Drink this,” he murmured, lifting her up so that she might sip more easily. Her eyes never left his face as she swallowed the drug. She appeared to be in a trance, with him as the focus. She took a final sip, shuddered, then was seized by a spasm of harsh coughing. A gout of bloody froth bubbled from her lips, and she clutched at her chest, sobbing. Abruptly, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she went limp. Shaking, Ashinji lowered her head gently to the ground, sat back on his heels, and took a deep breath.

  Her skin was a shade or two darker than his, and the wild mass of hair, though shorter, was as he remembered it from the dream. She was dressed in plain, well-made clothes—a man’s shirt, trousers, leather vest, and boots. Her features bore the unmistakable look of a hikui,one of mixed human-elf ancestry.

  She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

  At that moment, Ashinji felt the world shift beneath him, as if the mighty tidal forces shaping his life had suddenly changed, pulling him in an entirely new direction. He had no idea why, but he knew with the bone-deep certainty of a man of faith that this was meant to be, that he and this girl were meant for each other. He could not—would not—let her die.

  He looked up at the sound of approaching hoof beats. Gendan had returned.

  “Lord Ashinji! Are you hurt?” the captain shouted in alarm at the sight of his young lord on his knees. He jumped down from his horse and ran over to where Ashinji knelt beside the injured, unconscious girl.

  Ashinji waved his hand in reassurance. “No, Captain. I’m unhurt, but this girl here is, and badly. It’s my fault. She fell, and I rode over her. Gendan…look at her. She’s no bandit.”

  Gendan squinted down at the girl’s drained, slack face and shrugged. “If you say so, my lord…We had to kill a few of the others,” he reported laconically.

  Ashinji looked at the captain sharply. “Was there no other way, Gendan?” he questioned, dismayed.

  “I’m sorry, my lord, but I tried, I really did, but the miserable dogs wouldn’t listen!” Gendan replied, clearly exasperated with his young lord. “I told ‘em they could lay down their weapons, such as they were, and we’d let ‘em go, but their leader just spat at me and then he threw a knife at my face!”

  “Goddess’ tits,” Ashinji muttered.

  “Once the three biggest ones were down, the others gave up. We let ‘em go, and they all ran like rabbits back into the forest, all ‘cept one.” Gendan paused and looked thoughtfully at the unconscious girl. “He’s not a bandit, either, I reckon. Dressed too well. Says he and his cousin were set upon in the woods by the others. Think this one must be the cousin? He said it was a girl. Hikui, by the look of her. Fancy that!”

  “Help me with her, Gendan. Where is the man?”

  “We’ve got him a ways down river. Tied up, just in case he’s lying. I figured you’d want to question him yourself. Here, my lord, I’ll carry the girl.” Gendan stooped down and gathered the girl up into his arms. The jostling of her injured body stirred her partly awake, and she cried out in pain.

  Ashinji felt a flare of anger. “Be careful with her, Gendan! She’s hurt, and I don’t know how badly yet.”

  “Your pardon, my lord,” Gendan apologized, a look of puzzlement on his face. He settled the semi-conscious girl more gently in his arms and began walking. Ashinji gathered up the reins of the two horses and followed. His stomach was a swirling pit of anxiety. The girl might be so hurt that she would die before he could get her back to Kerala Castle.

  When did I make the decision to bring her back to Kerala? he thought.The moment I saw her face, of course.

  A short walk past the bend in the river brought them within visual range of the rest of the company. Several of the troops stood in a cluster around a kneeling figure. They seemed loose-limbed and relaxed, as if they perceived no threat from their captive. They all snapped to attention when they caught sight of Ashinji and Gendan.

  “This is the human, my lord,” Gendan indicated the kneeling man with a lift of his chin. Someone had bound his hands securely behind him. An ugly bruise purpled the skin of his forehead just above the left eye, and a deep laceration had made a gory mask of his face.

  The human’s eyes fastened on Gendan’s burden and widened in alarm. “My cousin! What have you done to her? Is she alive?” he cried, struggling against the leather cord that secured his hands. He attempted to regain his feet, but two of the soldiers roughly pushed him back and held him down.

  “Enough! Leave him be,” Ashinji snapped. The men obeyed immediately with murmured apologies, stepping back from the human, who ceased struggling and fixed his eyes upon Ashinji. Handing off the reins of the horses to a waiting soldier, Ashinji stepped up to the man and drew his knife. The human’s eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared; his entire body went rigid.

  “I am not going to kill you. I am going to free your hands,” Ashinji explained. He reached behind the man and severed the cord with a single cut.

  The human sat for a moment, rubbing his chafed wrists and staring thoughtfully up at Ashinji. “The girl…she’s my cousin. Please…tell me. Is she alive?” His eyes, a clear vibrant blue, glimmered with fear, but not for himself.

  “She lives, but she is badly hurt, and I am entirely at fault,” Ashinji answered.

  “My lord, that is not…” Gendan interrupted indignantly, but Ashinji silenced him with a raised hand. The human glanced briefly at Gendan’s face, uncomprehendingly, then returned his attention to Ashinji.

  “I believed your cousin to be part of the gang of bandits we came here to deal with. She ran; I chased her. She fell in front of my horse, and I could not pull up quickly enough to avoid running over her. I am sorry.”

  “May I go to her?” the human asked.

  “Of course.” Ashinji stepped back as the man rose to his feet. He stood a few measures taller than everyone in the company, well built and strong. Gendan was right. This human, unlike the pathetic creatures lying dead and scattered on the riverbank, clearly was no bandit.

  “Gendan, give this man his kinswoman,” Ashinji ordered in Soldaran, so that the human would understand and know that he was sincere. Gendan complied, transferring the injured girl as gently as he could into the arms of her cousin. The poppy juice was exerting its effect, for the girl hardly stirred. The man whispered in her ear and cradled her close, closing his eyes and resting his bloody cheek against hers.

  Ashinji felt torn. There was no question in his mind about the girl. He would take her back to Kerala, but what about the man, her cousin? Ashinji knew that the human would never permit his kinswoman to be carri
ed away while he remained behind. The troops stirred restlessly.

  Gendan stepped up and spoke softly. “What are we going to do with these two, my lord?” he asked.

  Ashinji fixed Gendan with a determined look. “Have the troops gather some wood so we can burn these bodies,” he said, pointing to the three corpses lying on the stones. “We don’t know if they carry the plague, but we can’t take any chances, so don’t anyone touch them with bare hands. Also, make sure that everyone who handles them keeps their noses and mouths covered. After that’s done, we’ll camp down by the fords. Hurry, it’s almost full dark.”

  “With respect, Lord Ashinji, but you didn’t answer my question. What’ll we do with these two humans?”

  “I’ve decided that the girl is coming with us. Without a proper doctor, she’ll most likely die. The man, well, I’ll give him the choice of accompanying her, or returning to his home.”

  “My lord, you can’t be serious! You can’t bring humans back to Kerala Castle!” Gendan’s voice crackled with disapproval.

  Ashinji rounded on him. “Look at her, Gendan. She is badly hurt, and I caused her to be in this deadly state. I can’t abandon her now! Besides that, she is hikui, and that makes her one of our people. She and her cousin are obviously not bandits. Their clothes are clean and well made. I suspect they are from Amsara Castle, most likely retainers of the duke. I will offer them my help. Now, stop arguing with me and do as I say!”

  “As you wish, my lord,” Gendan bowed stiffly and turned to go. As he stalked off, Ashinji heard the captain muttering in irritation.

  Ashinji sighed and turned his attention to the man and girl. The man had settled on a patch of turf with his cousin’s head in his lap. Ashinji could just make out his features in the last glow of twilight. Somewhere in the dark woods, an owl screeched. The crickets were beginning to trill brightly in the tall reeds by the water’s edge.

  Ashinji knelt down in front of the two. “My name is Ashinji Sakehera. My father is Sen Sakehera, Lord of Kerala, the province just across the river from here.”