Griffin's Shadow

by Leslie Ann Moore

  Surrounded by his enemies, too weak to fight or flee, Ashinji had no choice but to surrender. Slowly, he climbed to his feet and extended his hands to his new master.

  “Wait,” Thessalina spoke up. Marcus turned toward her, eyebrows raised. “He can’t go all the way to Darguinia half-naked,” she said. She looked at Trip. “Go find a tunic,” she ordered. “And a pair of sandals as well.” They waited in silence for the guard to return. Ashinji scanned the faces of the humans around him, trying to summon an emotional reaction, but he found he could not. He had gone numb.

  Trip returned with a tunic and a pair of shabby sandals.

  “I will need help,” Ashinji said. “I cannot raise my arm over my head.”

  The guard hesitated.

  “Well, go on! Help him!” Thessalina barked, stabbing the air with her forefinger. Trip jumped to comply, and assisted Ashinji in donning the clothing. The dingy brown tunic hung loosely from his body and the sandals were too large, but the mere fact that he no longer stood half-naked among the enemy acted as a balm to his shredded dignity. Marcus came forward and closed the manacles over his wrists, testing them with a tug to make sure they were secure. He then attached a leather leash to Ashinji’s right wrist.

  “Lady Thessalina, it has been a pleasure conducting business with you,” Marcus said, grinning. “I hope the rest of your business goes just as well.”

  Thessalina waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Just go,” she said. “I gave one of your assistants a pass that will let all of you stay the night at Amsara Castle. Show it to my steward.”

  As she turned to leave, Ashinji called out to her. “Lady Thessalina, if my friend Magnes should ever return home, will you please tell him what became of me?” Thessalina halted. Slowly, she turned to face Ashinji. As their eyes met, Ashinji reached out with his mind to taste the flavor of her psychic energy. He detected determination, ambivalence, anger, and something else…

  Thessalina abruptly looked away. She opened her mouth to as if to speak but the words seemed to balk on the tip of her tongue, resisting all of her efforts. Defeated, she spun around and hurried away, as if fleeing something she dared not face.

  Marcus huffed and scratched at his beard.

  “I think she likes you,” he said.

  Chapter 22

  The Heart Of The Empire

  Marcus drove up to the outer gates of Amsara Castle just as the sun disappeared below the horizon. Ashinji had spent much of the day sleeping on a pile of musty blankets in the wagon bed; the cessation of the wagon’s bumpy movements roused him from a restless doze. He raised his head.

  The two soldiers standing guard at the gates came forward to challenge Marcus, who then explained he had permission to stay the night.

  “Let’s see yer proof, then,” one of the guards demanded.

  “From her Ladyship’s own hand,” Marcus stated, and with a flourish, produced his pass.

  “Give it ‘ere.” The guard snatched it from Marcus’ fingers and held the small square of wood up to his eyes, squinting. After a moment’s inspection, he said, “Looks alright, I reckon. Drive on, then. You c’n park over by the east wall.”

  “Much obliged,” Marcus replied and snapped the reins to get his sturdy dun mare moving. He drove into the outer yard and pulled the horse to a stop at the designated spot.

  The people of Amsara Castle had settled in for the evening, but the arrival of strangers, especially at this time of day, piqued their curiosity. The children approached first. By the time Marcus and his two hired hands had climbed down, a sizable gathering of the castle’s youngest inhabitants had the wagon surrounded.

  Ashinji lay very still, hidden from view, listening to the whispers and giggles that skittered around him. The piping sound of the children’s voices evoked memories of his two little sisters, Jena and her twin Mariso-so much alike, they could sometimes fool their own brother if they put their minds to it. The thought of never again hearing their bright laughter or seeing their sweet faces aglow with youthful mischief filled his heart with sadness.

  Marcus unhitched the horse from the wagon while his men unloaded the gear they would need for the night. The older of the two, a short, stocky fellow with silver-laced black hair cropped above his ears, tried, with little success, to shoo the children away while his partner, a blond bear of a man even more powerfully built than Marcus, got to work erecting a small shelter against the castle wall.

  A chilly wind skirled down from the stone heights of the castle towers and gusted through the yard. The last light of the dying sun had faded now, leaving the stars to shine forth in all their crystalline brilliance. The smell of autumn permeated the air. Ashinji, clad only in the thin, rough cotton of his borrowed tunic and breeches, shivered. It’s going to be a cold night, he thought.

  Marcus climbed into the back of the wagon, a set of leg irons in his hands. He grabbed Ashinji’s ankle and fastened the shackle around it, then attached the other end to a stout ring embedded in the wood of the wagon bed.

  “You’ll be safe enough here, I think,” he said, then climbed down and stumped off. Ashinji sighed and wrapped himself up in a blanket, then lay down and tried to sponge his mind clean of thoughts.

  A few moments later, he felt rather than saw a small body creep into the wagon. A hand grasped the edge of the blanket and gave it a sharp tug.

  Ashinji looked up to find a boy, thin-faced and crowned with a shock of sandy hair staring at him, eyes wide as saucers. The child made a little choking noise in his throat and backed away. Ashinji watched as he scrambled off the wagon and fell into the arms of his comrades, who all began chattering at once.

  “Get away from there, you brats!” Marcus bellowed.

  The children scattered like sparrows before a hawk, shrieking as they ran. Cries of “tink, tink!” echoed against the walls.

  Marcus climbed back up in the wagon bed, growling like an angry lion.

  “Damn brats,” he spat. He held out a small wooden cup. “The doctor told me to give you this three times a day for the next three days.” Ashinji propped himself on his elbow and took the cup from Marcus’ hand. He drained the bitter liquid in one gulp, fighting the urge to gag. He recognized the draught as the same concoction that Thessalina’s camp surgeon had given him the night before.

  “Are you hungry?” Marcus asked.

  “Yes,” Ashinji answered, surprised at just how hungry he did feel.

  “I’ll bring you some grub, then.” Ashinji pulled the threadbare blanket back over his shoulders and lay down to wait for the promised food.

  He knew he had fallen asleep only after the soft whisper of a female voice in his ear woke him. He rolled over and peered out through the slats of the wagon’s side to see a woman staring back at him.

  Short and stout, the woman wore the plain garb of a servant. Several tendrils of iron-gray hair had escaped the kerchief covering her head and hung down to frame a face on which every line and groove told of a lifetime of toil and worry. She kept glancing around her as if she feared discovery.

  “ Psst,” she hissed. “C’n ye understand me? Are ye awake?” She wrung her hands together. “Oh, please, talk t’me if ye can!”

  Despite his fatigue, Ashinji sat up and leaned against the side of the wagon so the woman could see his face. “What is it you wish to speak to me about, Grandmother?” he inquired in a gentle voice, addressing her as he would an elderly elven woman.

  “Oh, ye can understand me!” she gasped. “Please…might ye know of…of a girl, my little girl…well, she weren’t my child by blood, no. I never gave birth to her, but I did deliver her into this cruel world, I did.”

  A glimmer of recognition lit the edges of Ashinji’s mind.

  “She was…well, her sire was one of yer people. My girl had to run away. She ran north, t’ find her dad. P’raps you seen a half-breed girl up in yer country, lookin’ for her dad?”

  Ashinji saw in his mind’s eye a memory of Jelena sitting on a couch, her le
gs tucked beneath her and a sweet bun in her hand. She spoke to him of her childhood, and the human woman who had raised and loved her.

  “I do know of your girl, Claudia,” he answered.

  “Ye know my name!” Claudia cried. Her hands flew to her face.

  “Jelena has told me all about you.”

  “Ye…y’ve seen my little girl? Oh, please tell me everything! I’ve missed her so much!” In the cool starlight, tears glittered on Claudia’s seamed cheeks.

  “Jelena is well. She found a home and a family, and she thrives.”

  Claudia reached through the slats of the wagon and groped for Ashinji’s hand. He took her work-roughened fingers in his and squeezed them reassuringly.

  “How d’ye say yer name, kind sir?” Claudia asked.

  “Ashinji,” he replied.

  “Ash…een…gee,” Claudia drew out the syllables as if savoring the sound of the elven phonemes. “‘Tis a fine, grand name.”

  “Jelena calls me ‘Ashi’, mostly.”

  “How do ye know my little girl?” Claudia asked, still holding tight to Ashinji’s hand.

  “We are husband and wife.”

  Claudia drew in a sharp breath. “Ye be my baby’s man! Oh…What misfortune has brought ye here and separated ye from my Jelena?”

  Ashinji could not bear to speak the whole truth-it hurt too much-so he related only the bare-bones facts of his ambush and capture, leaving out the stunning betrayal that had made it so much easier.

  Claudia was weeping softly now. “My poor, poor baby…How will she ever bear it?”

  Ashinji swallowed against the ache in his throat caused by his own grief. “When she is told that I am dead, she will be devastated,” he said. “But Jelena is strong. She has family now to shelter and support her. She also has our child to think about. She will survive.”

  “Jelena is with child! My baby is goin’ to have her own baby,” Claudia whispered. “Oh, but what is to become of ye?”

  “Marcus the slave trader is taking me south, to Darguinia. There, he will sell me and after that, I do not know.”

  “‘Tis an evil thing, ‘tis!” Claudia raged. “After all my poor Jelena suffered, she finds a bit o’ happiness only to have it ripped away from her! If only there was somethin’ I could do…but I’m just an old woman.” She covered her face and Ashinji watched helplessly as her stooped shoulders shook with grief.

  “Claudia… Jelena will survive. I know she will. Her love for our child will keep her strong. And if the One permits it, I will find a way to return to her… But there is one more thing I must tell you, Claudia.”

  “What is it, dear Ash-ee?”

  “Jelena found her father. He is the king of my people.”

  Claudia gasped. “Praise all the gods,” she whispered. “My little baby is…a…a…”

  “Hey, what’s going on over there!” Marcus called out.

  “Quickly, Claudia! You must go now,” Ashinji said.

  Once more, Claudia grabbed Ashinji’s hand and kissed it. “May the gods bless an’ keep ye, dear Ash-ee.”

  She turned and scurried away across the yard, disappearing in the shadows just as Marcus returned to the wagon, a bowl and cup in his hands. “I thought I heard voices over here. Were you talking to someone?”

  He set the bowl and cup down by Ashinji’s hand. The chain attached to his ankle rattled as he shifted position, reminding Ashinji of his new station. “Just an old woman from the castle, curious about what a tink looks like up close.” The pejorative left a foul taste in Ashinji’s mouth the moment it left his lips.

  “Huh! Well, I suppose the riffraff ‘round here don’t get too much excitement. Anyway, there’s your dinner. I’m guessing your kind eat the same things as what we eat.” Marcus jumped off the wagon and Ashinji followed the sound of his boots as they retreated back toward where he and his men had set up their lean-to. He strained to make out the words of their desultory conversation, but they sat too far away. Eventually, he gave up and turned his attention to his food.

  He raised the bowl to his nose and sniffed. The pleasant aroma of a meat stew provoked a growl from his stomach. Marcus had failed to provide him with a spoon, so awkwardly, he wedged the bowl between his knees and used his good hand to feed himself.

  The cup contained sour, thin beer. He drained it in one gulp, and after sucking the gravy off his fingers, he wiped his hand on a corner of one of the blankets that made up his pallet. He then lay down on his back, wrapped himself up, and stared at the star-spattered sky overhead.

  The blond bear-man came back later to collect the cup and bowl and to unchain Ashinji just long enough for him to relieve himself against the castle wall. After he had finished attending to the needs of his body, Marcus’ assistant re-secured him to the wagon for the night.

  Shivering, Ashinji buried himself beneath the pile of musty blankets and tried to quiet his mind enough to fall asleep. Despite his best efforts, the memory of Sadaiyo’s betrayal kept rising up, unbidden, to torment him.

  Never in his worst nightmares had Ashinji ever imagined that Sadaiyo’s jealousy would lead to such an act.

  Somehow, I’ve got to survive and return to hold my treacherous brother accountable.

  Sleep came to him at last, shortly before dawn.

  ~~~

  Marcus rousted his men at sunrise, and had them pack their gear for a speedy departure. Ashinji looked for Claudia among the knot of castle dwellers gathered in the yard to see them off. He caught a glimpse of her kerchief-covered head at the back of the crowd. As the wagon trundled out through the castle gates, he saw Claudia break free of the group to stand apart, hands clasped together before her as if in prayer.

  How you must have mourned when you awoke that day nearly a year ago to find your Jelena gone, he thought. I hope, now that you know Jelena is safe, you can find some peace of mind. Farewell, Claudia.

  Claudia raised her hand and waved.

  ~~~

  Fourteen days later, filthy and in chains, Ashinji entered the heart of the Soldaran Empire.

  Darguinia had grown up around a natural, deep-water harbor. The flows of two mighty rivers emptied tons of silt into its murky waters, keeping the dredgers busy year round. The city functioned as the hub of a vast network of trade routes that supplied it with every conceivable commodity from all corners of the far-flung empire.

  The main slave market, located in the city center near the Grand Arena, was the largest in the empire, according to Marcus. There, a buyer with enough imperials in his or her purse could purchase living chattel to suit any purpose, from field hand to housemaid, gladiator to pleasure slave. Separate, smaller markets set up within the main precincts dealt in specialty items, such as skilled artisans, children, and exotics. Marcus intended to offer Ashinji up for sale at the latter.

  The arrow wound in his shoulder had healed well, leaving Ashinji with only a small, puckered scar and some residual pain. He attributed his relatively easy recovery to the fact that he had done nothing for the last two weeks other than eat, sleep and watch the scenery roll by. The further south they traveled, the warmer and drier the climate had become. The landscape had changed accordingly, shifting from lush grassland and broadleaf forests to low, scrubby vegetation, dry meadows, and stands of tough-looking, waxy-leafed trees.

  The wilderness had gradually given way to farmland; Ashinji noted how the fields of late summer wheat and rye lay sere beneath the relentless sun. Marcus had clicked his tongue in dismay. “There wasn’t enough rain last spring, and the summer’s looking to linger past its welcome,” he’d said. “A poor harvest’ll mean hunger in the cities for sure, and that means big trouble for the empress.”

  The slaver had been true to his word and had fed his captive well and prohibited his assistants from abusing Ashinji physically, although the two men had delighted in verbally baiting him at every opportunity. Ashinji had little trouble ignoring them, having mastered the art of shedding hurtful words years ago under the harsh tut
elage of his brother.

  As Marcus deftly maneuvered the wagon through the steady stream of traffic heading into the city, Ashinji observed everything around him with keen interest. He knew he could not escape-at least not any time soon-but he had faced his death and had survived, an outcome he had not expected. His survival ran counter to the prophecy of his dream, proving that the future remained fluid, and could be shaped by his own determination. If given the opportunity, he would attempt escape; therefore, he needed to commit to memory every detail he could of the way in and out of Darguinia.

  The broad road upon which they traveled ran for a time through a sprawling shantytown. Everywhere he looked, Ashinji observed masses of humans shoving, walking, crawling, squatting, eating, selling, buying, sleeping, and dying.

  Ashinji had always been aware on an intellectual level that the human race outnumbered the elven, but the reality of how much so now became shockingly, terrifyingly clear.

  We elves are in serious trouble, he thought.

  Ashinji could only stare at the crowds and wonder how Alasiri would ever prevail over such odds.

  As the wagon rolled on, the shacks and shelters of the shantytown gave way to small houses and businesses made of wood and brick. The dirt road turned into an avenue paved with a smooth hard surface Ashinji could not identify. When he dared to ask Asa, Marcus’ salt and pepper-haired assistant about it, the man answered “It’s concrete, ya stupid tink!”

  The sun had crept past its zenith when the road finally passed the massive public buildings of the city center. Despite the fear that gnawed at his gut, Ashinji still felt impressed at the grand scale of everything. No elven scholar had ever denied the engineering and architectural abilities of the human race, and among all human peoples, the Soldarans were universally acknowledged as the best builders.

  The Grand Arena hove into view like a mighty ship, its massive walls of white stone rising to dizzying heights, dwarfing the other structures around it. Marcus drove out onto a road encircling the huge round building and turned the horse’s head to the right, following the curve of the wall eastward. He began to whistle a cheerful tune.