Griffin's Shadow

by Leslie Ann Moore

  Light’s pretty dim, it must be near sunset. That means I’ve been out at least a day…Ai Goddess, the attack! It’s over now, of course…Sadaiyo held them off, surely…Sadaiyo had to have…he had to!

  Struggling against the pain that threatened to send him back into the embrace of the darkness, he levered himself up to a sitting position and looked around.

  An awning of dirty canvas swayed overhead, supported by two poles driven into the ground at its front edge. The back and sides were secured to a three-sided enclosure made of the slender trunks of sapling trees. Loosely woven matting attached to the saplings served as a screen; whether to foil curious eyes or keep him ignorant of what lay beyond his prison, Ashinji could only guess.

  A pair of guards sat on stools at the front of the enclosure, their backs to him, the slump of their shoulders speaking eloquently of their boredom and absolute belief in his helplessness. Ashinji, much to his surprise, found himself taking offense at the guards’ offhand attitude toward him, then the absurdity of such feelings struck him and he couldn’t help but laugh.

  I am helpless, he thought. And wounded. And totally alone.

  One of the guards heard Ashinji’s bleak expression of mirth. He twisted around on his stool and peered into the gloom of the makeshift cell. “Hey Trip, I think he’s awake,” he said to his companion.

  “Hey, tink! You awake in there?” the other guard called out.

  Ashinji considered feigning continued unconsciousness, but he was desperately thirsty and he hoped these two had orders, at the very least, to see to his basic needs.

  “Please, may I have some water?” he asked, and silently cursed the weakness of his voice.

  “Go get him some water.”

  The one called Trip heaved himself to his feet, and grumbling under his breath, stumped off. The remaining guard continued to stare into the enclosure, searching the shadows. “We’d all heard you spoke Soldaran,” he said. “Her Ladyship’ll be happy you’re still alive. Soon as Trip’s back with the water, I’m off to fetch her.”

  Ashinji didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he lay back on the crude mattress and curled up on his uninjured side. I might still be alive now, but for how long? he thought. His entire left arm and shoulder throbbed with brutal intensity. A ferocious headache and queasy stomach only compounded his misery. He knew a poisoned wound could bring an ugly death, and he felt sick with dread.

  Even with their far more sophisticated knowledge of anatomy and physiology, despite the advantages of medical sorcery, elven doctors could not stop the advance of putrefaction once it had progressed past a certain point. Ashinji had little confidence in the Soldaran camp surgeon’s ability to save him if his wound turned bad.

  Trip returned carrying a waterskin. He had to stoop to enter the enclosure. With a sniff, he dropped the waterskin next to Ashinji’s head. Too weary and sick to move, Ashinji closed his eyes. He could feel the human’s presence like a dim light flickering over him.

  “Why you staring at him like that? C’mon, get outta there!” Trip’s fellow guard growled.

  “Just curious, is all,” Trip muttered. “’Aint never seen a tink up close before. Think the priests are right about ‘em?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care. Now come out and sit down. I’m going to fetch her Ladyship.”

  Ashinji both felt and heard Trip’s retreat to his stool outside the enclosure. He opened his eyes and reached for the waterskin. It took every bit of energy he had to lift himself upright, uncork the waterskin, and raise it to his lips. Despite his raging thirst, his stomach rebelled after only a few small sips and he had to stop drinking lest he vomit up what little water he had managed to consume. He lay down to wait.

  For a time, his mind drifted in retreat from the emotional anguish of all that had befallen him. He wanted to let go completely, but the thought of never seeing Jelena again held him back.

  “Ashinji Sakehera.”

  The sound of his name brought him out of the fog. He rolled over and saw Thessalina crouched at his side, eyes narrowed, lips twisted in a frown.

  “You look worse now than when my men first brought you in.” She made a low rumbling sound deep in her throat, a noise Ashinji interpreted as an expression of anger. “That surgeon is little more than a butcher, but he’s all we’ve got out here.”

  “If the wound stays clean, I will live,” Ashinji replied. Each word took a tremendous effort to form. “Tell me…tell me about the attack,” he whispered.

  “Your people fought bravely, just as you said they would. Your general proved more clever than I’d expected, considering his first blunder. He had the superior position and so was able to hold us off. I finally had to call a retreat.”

  Ashinji nearly sobbed with relief. He struggled to sit up, but Thessalina pushed him back down with gentle hands.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Just lie still and listen to me…My commanders wanted me to force you to talk, and at first, I agreed, but now…” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Now, I find that I lack the stomach for it.”

  Ashinji stared at her, confused. He had expected Thessalina to demand all his knowledge of Sadaiyo’s tactics and the size and deployment of the elven forces. He had also expected threats of torture. Thessalina’s confession took him by surprise. She seemed strangely conflicted, almost as if she felt sympathy for his plight.

  Her dark eyes searched his. “Even if I had given the order to torture you, you wouldn’t have told me anything useful anyway, would you?”

  “No,” Ashinji answered.

  “I thought as much…By all the gods, I’m going to pay a heavy price for this decision,” she said.

  “What are you going to do with me?” Ashinji asked, for the third time.

  Thessalina remained silent for a long time. When at last she spoke, Ashinji heard what sounded like regret in her voice. “I can’t send you back to your people. My commanders won’t allow it. They’d have you killed first. I dare not go against them any more than I am already. They only choose to follow me out of respect for my father, not for any special loyalty they have for me. My position is still very tenuous, and this act of mercy,” she shook her head as if in disbelief of her own actions, “will infuriate them. I’m risking a lot…but I must do what I think is right. I won’t be responsible for your murder. If that means I’ll have to fight to keep my command, then so be it. I have a few allies…and the power of the duchy behind me.” She paused, then added, “I…I’m really very sorry you and my cousin will be separated.” She seemed genuinely surprised by her last words.

  From everything Jelena had told him about Thessalina, he had expected no quarter from her

  Maybe she’s not quite the stony-hearted bigot Jelena thinks she is.

  “I can’t let you go, but I can’t keep you prisoner, either,” Thessalina continued. “We are about to push our offensive and I won’t have time to think about or deal with you so I’ve arranged to have you taken off my hands.” She stood and the top of her head just brushed the underside of the canvas awning. “A slaver named Marcus is in the area. He specializes in…exotic types. I’m selling you to him.”

  Ashinji shivered as the meaning of her words sank into his tired mind. “You…you are making me a… slave ?”

  Thessalina nodded. “Look at it this way. I’m giving you a chance…a chance to live. If you’re very, very lucky…well, only the gods know.” She spun on her heel and made as if to leave, then paused and turned back to gaze down at him. “The priests tell us that elven beauty is a trap to catch the unwary,” she said. “They say that your kind weave spells to ensnare us so you might steal our souls because you have none. They say elves are jealous of humans because we have souls…and we are superior for having them.”

  “Do you believe what your priests teach you about my people?” Ashinji asked.

  “I thought I did,” Thessalina replied, and then she left.

  Ashinji rolled onto his side and let his mind slip back into blankne
ss, too exhausted to think about the meaning behind Thessalina’s final words.

  ~~~

  “This is the prime specimen you told me about? My lady Thessalina, with all due respect…he looks terrible!”

  “That may be so, but he’s young and strong. He’ll heal.”

  Ashinji woke with a start from a crazy dream in which a huge, black, four-legged beast with the upper torso of a man screamed at him to watch his back. He moaned aloud at the shock of pain that coursed from his shoulder down through his arm. He tried to flex his fingers but his hand had grown too swollen to close.

  “Ah, he’s awake. You say he speaks Soldaran?”

  “Fluently.”

  “And how do you say his name again?”

  “Ash-een-gee.”

  “You must be Marcus,” Ashinji murmured through dry, cracked lips. “My new owner.”

  He opened his eyes to see a tall, powerfully built man stooping over him. A thick head of curly black hair and a full beard framed the man’s broad face.

  “That’s right, Ash…Ashinji. Lady Thessalina has told me a few things about you.” He shot Thessalina an exasperated look. “She didn’t tell me you looked like shit, though!”

  “Do we have a deal or not Marcus? I can always sell him to Celene, you know.” Thessalina planted her hands on her hips, impatience evident in every line of her body.

  “Temper, temper, my lady. Let’s not be too hasty, now. I said I was interested and I still am, but in light of his, ah, condition, I’m going to have to reduce my offer. Cost of nursing him back to health…the risk I take that he might die of that wound…well, you understand.”

  “I understand that you’ll make a handsome profit on him when you re-sell him in Darguinia!” Thessalina’s dark eyes flashed.

  “Yes, well. I won’t make anything if he dies. I’ll give you twenty imperials.”

  Ashinji wondered how much twenty imperials would purchase-a good warhorse, perhaps, or a decent suit of armor? He found it a very curious experience to be haggled over.

  Thessalina frowned. “An elderly house slave might be worth only twenty. He’s a trained fighter. I know for certain you’ll get at least fifty for him, maybe more. I want forty or I’m sending for Celene.”

  Marcus chuckled appreciatively. “You’ve missed your calling, my lady. You were born to be a trader. Take thirty five and we’ll shake on it.” He held out a beefy hand. Thessalina extended hers and they shook.

  Marcus hunkered down beside Ashinji and fixed him with a penetrating stare. His brown eyes, much to Ashinji’s surprise, held no contempt. “I’ve never had any ill feelings toward your kind,” the slaver began. “So, you’ll not get any special abuse from me. Matter of fact, I believe in treating my stock well, keeping them fit and healthy. I don’t make any money on sick slaves. You’re in no condition to try anything foolish, like an escape attempt, so I won’t bother to warn you against it.” Marcus stood up as far as the low ceiling would allow. He turned toward Thessalina. “I’ll come and collect him first thing tomorrow morning.” Thessalina nodded curtly and followed the slaver out of the enclosure, leaving Ashinji alone with his thoughts.

  The dream that had haunted him-of fire and pursuit and a face he knew he should recognize but couldn’t-it had all come to pass in a few terrible, life-altering moments. The image of Sadaiyo turning his back and riding away to abandon him to death would be burned into his mind’s eye forever.

  ~~~

  Later that evening, Trip brought him a bowl of soup and a cup of beer, but Ashinji felt too sick to eat. He knew his body needed nourishment in order to heal, but the smell of the food twisted his gut into knots. He begged Trip to take it away, and with a disinterested shrug, the guard complied.

  Later still, the surgeon appeared like a blood-spattered apparition, waking Ashinji from a restless doze. He bent down and pressed his blade-thin nose against the bandages that swaddled Ashinji’s shoulder, then raised Ashinji’s arm and ran his fingers over the swollen flesh.

  He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

  “Too much swelling. Not a good sign,” he said. He laid a hand against Ashinji’s forehead. “Fever as well. But the wound has no odor. Puzzling. Perhaps it’s due to your inhuman constitution. I have no experience treating your kind, so I don’t know what to expect.” He clicked his tongue again. “Willow bark, golden seal, and feverfew, I think. Yes, hopefully, they’ll do the trick. I’ll send one of my assistants with a draught.” He turned to go, then paused and said “I suppose you’re in a lot of pain. I’ll send some poppy juice as well.”

  Ashinji shook his head. “No. No poppy juice.” The drug would take away his pain, but it would also cloud his mind more than the pain already did. He couldn’t afford to have his thoughts impaired any further.

  “Suit yourself, then,” the surgeon growled.

  After he departed, Ashinji wondered if he had imagined the blood upon the man’s apron.

  ~~~

  “Hey, tink…wake up.”

  Ashinji felt the sharp prod of a booted toe in his ribs. He rolled over to see Trip standing over him, hands on hips, his body silhouetted against the bright sunlight pouring into the enclosure.

  Blinking against the glare, Ashinji sat up and rubbed his face with his uninjured hand. He made a mental assessment of the state of his body, and realized with relief that the surgeon’s draught had been effective. The swelling in his arm had noticeably decreased and he found that he could now move the fingers of his left hand. A tiny spark of hope kindled in his breast. Perhaps he would escape death awhile longer.

  “Gods, you smell strange, tink,” Trip commented. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

  “I need to…to…” Ashinji began, but the guard finished his sentence.

  “Take a piss, sure. ‘Course you do. I’ll take you to the latrines.” He stepped back and waited.

  It seemed as if every bone and muscle in his body hurt, and as Ashinji struggled to his feet, he wondered how he would find the strength to make it all the way to Darguinia. He swayed, weak as a newborn lamb, and would have fallen had not Trip lunged forward to catch him.

  “Here, lean on me,” the guard muttered, and swung Ashinji’s right arm over his shoulder.

  After two days in the relative dimness of his makeshift prison cell, the sunlight outside seemed painfully bright, momentarily dazzling Ashinji’s eyes. He allowed Trip to lead him to the latrine pits, where he had no choice but to relieve himself before a curious crowd of onlookers. Hot with shame and fury, he stumbled away on Trip’s arm, the catcalls and hoots of derision like the lash of a whip upon his bare back.

  Marcus was waiting for him, along with Thessalina, when he returned.

  “Hmm. I think he looks a little better,” the slaver commented.

  “The surgeon will be here shortly to change his bandages and then you can take him,” Thessalina replied. She stepped closer to Ashinji and looked into his eyes. “My army attacked your forces again, last night under cover of darkness, but your general was ready for us. Once again, I had to call a retreat.” She searched Ashinji’s face for his reaction.

  “My brother is a capable commander,” he replied.

  Thessalina’s eyes widened with surprise. “Your brother commands the elven forces? Perhaps I was too hasty in selling you to Marcus here,” she said. “Your brother, no doubt, would have paid me a handsome ransom for your return… much more than I’m getting from this old fox!” Marcus snorted and rolled his eyes.

  Ashinji shook his head. “I thought your commanders would have killed me first, rather than let me return to my people.”

  Thessalina tossed her glossy mane. “Enough gold changes even the most resolute of minds. I would have had to share the ransom with them, of course.”

  “My brother would not have bargained with you in any case,” Ashinji said.

  “Why not?” Thessalina lifted one eyebrow.

  Ashinji did not reply, but his expression must have given her some clue, for she f
rowned and said “I am truly sorry for you, Ashinji.”

  “My lady, I’ve come to tend the elf.” The surgeon strode up, followed by an assistant carrying a leather sack. He exclaimed with satisfaction when he saw Ashinji conscious and standing. “The draught worked. Excellent.” He snapped his fingers. “Bring him in here so I can work,” he ordered, indicating the enclosure.

  Ashinji sat down on the dingy straw and tried to remain still as the surgeon first removed the bandages then proceeded to clean the wound, but the man made no effort to be gentle. By the time he finished, Ashinji had nearly reached the end of his endurance. Sweat-soaked and shaking, he shot the surgeon a bitter, angry glare as the man wiped his hands on a rag and stood. “I’m finished. You can take him now,” he called out. To Ashinji, he snapped, “On your feet.”

  Marcus entered the enclosure, a pair of manacles dangling from his hand.

  “C’mon now, Ashinji. Time to go,” the slaver said cheerily. The manacles clinked as they swung against Marcus’ thigh.

  For in instant, Ashinji considered running, then just as quickly gave up the idea. Even if he could find the strength to run, he would be cut down before he could take three steps.

  “My father is Lord of Kerala, Commanding General of the Armies of Alasiri,” he whispered. “I am the son-in-law of the king. Do not do this to me, please!” He despised himself for begging, but he had nothing else left.

  “I know you’ve got a pedigree, Ashinji, but none of that matters anymore,” Marcus said. “You’re a slave now, that’s all. The sooner you accept it, the easier things’ll be for you. I s’pose I could try to sell you back to your dad…that is, if you really are who you say you are…but why should I take the risk? There’s a war on, and your people just might kill me first and ask questions later. No…” He shook his head for emphasis. “I’ll make a very handsome profit selling you in Darguinia, with no risk to my life.” His voice hardened. “Now, get up and hold out your hands.”