Ashinji hesitated, unwilling to give voice to his deed. After a few tense moments of silence, he finally said, “I don’t really know. I was furious at Seijon’s death. I knew I had to stop his killer before he attacked you. The energy just…came out of me. I didn’t consciously call upon my Talent at all because I thought it was blocked.”
“Yes, it was.” Gran pinned him with ice-blue eyes, her brow furrowed. After a few heartbeats, she let out a sharp exhalation. “It seems, Ashi, that somehow, you have been able to overcome the block your mother put on your Talent, all on your own, which is just extraordinary.” She paused to look thoughtfully into the distance. “It really is unfortunate your mother could not find the courage to go against tradition and send you to the Kan Onji. You’d have made a formidable mage.”
“My mother did what she thought best,” Ashinji responded, tight-lipped with anger. “You, of all people, have no right to criticize her!” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a rush of regret. “I’m sorry, Gran,” he murmured. “I should not have said that. It was cruel of me.”
“No, Ashi, you are right to defend your mother. It is true that I’m the least fit person to be Amara’s judge. What I should have said was, it is a great pity your mother felt she could not send you to the Kan Onji.” She looked at him and smiled. “It’s not too late, Ashi. You can still become a mage, if you wish.”
“I don’t know, Gran,” Ashinji replied. “I’ve never been anything else but a soldier. My warrior’s skills are what will be needed in this fight. Becoming a mage is, well, it just seems like an impractical goal right now. And besides, neither of us knows if we’ll even survive what’s to come.”
“We’ll see,” Gran muttered.
***
“There they are. The Shihkat Fens. We’ve made it home, Gran.”
The elderly mage nodded. “We may be back in Alasiri, but we’ve got a long way to travel yet.”
Ashinji raised his hand against the glare of the midday sun off the shimmering expanse. From this distance, the Fens looked like a vast lake, but as the two travelers drew closer, the landscape resolved into a patchwork of stagnant pools slimed with brilliant green algae, weed choked sinkholes, and hillocks covered in tough, brown grasses. The warm, wet air reeked with the smell of decay.
“I know there are trails leading through, but without a guide, we’d have little chance of finding our way,” Ashinji said.
“We’ll have to go around, then,” Gran replied, her voice low and resigned. The necessity of bypassing the swamp would add at least two extra days to their journey.
Despite the inhospitability of the land, Ashinji knew people did inhabit the Fens, making their living by hunting, trapping, and fishing. The fresher pools and running streams harbored abundant life—fish, frogs, turtles, and crayfish—while the thickets abounded with rodents and other small mammals, as well as snakes, lizards, and songbirds. Migratory waterfowl used the larger ponds as stopovers along their ancient flyways. The hardy folk who chose to live within this world were an unconventional lot, content to exist outside the normal structures of elven society.
A large chunk of the eastern end of the Fens fell within the borders of Kerala, but by tradition, Kerala’s lords claimed no jurisdiction over it or anyone living there. The Shihkat Fens existed as a world unto itself, one in which, at this point in time, Ashinji had no wish to enter.
At sundown, they stopped to make camp beneath a stand of willows. They had been living off the land for several days, relying on Gran’s animal charming spells to bring small game within reach and supplementing their diet with wild greens and berries
After a meager supper of cold, stringy rabbit, Ashinji hobbled the horses to prevent them from wandering too far and Gran cast a simple warding spell around the campsite. Almost as soon as he lay down on his thin blanket, Ashinji fell asleep, too exhausted to wonder or even care if Gran’s wards would be enough to wake him in the event danger threatened.
The next morning, he woke to find the skin of his arms and legs dotted with itchy red welts, the result of a nocturnal insect attack. As he scratched the lesions, he wondered why Gran’s wards could keep out some predators but not others. Gran herself appeared untouched.
Perhaps the miserable little bloodsuckers don’t like the taste of mage’s blood! Ashinji thought.
After two more days of travel, the Fens yielded to drier land and the travelers steered northeast in a direct line that would bring them to Kerala Castle. Everything around him looked familiar; Ashinji felt his spirits lifting.
At sunset, a little over a year after his brother’s betrayal had cast him down into a life of slavery, Ashinji rode across the bridge connecting Kerala Castle to the mainland and halted at the outer gate.
I made it back! Against all odds, I’m home!
The gate stood shut against the coming night. Ashinji slid off his horse, walked to the postern door and pounded on it with his fist.
After a few heartbeats, the peephole slid open.
“Who goes there?” The voice sounded more irritated than challenging.
Ashinji stepped closer so the guard could see his face in the rapidly failing light. “Tell Captain Miri and Seneschal Iruka that Ashinji Sakehera has returned,” he said softly. The guard let out a startled yelp and the peephole slammed shut. A heartbeat later, the postern door flew open and a pair of excited guardsmen tumbled out. Both men began talking at once.
“My lord! This is unbelievable…”
“You’re alive! We were told you’d been killed…”
“At the Battle of the Saihama Fords! It’s been…”
“At least a year. Lord Ashinji, where have you been all this time?”
Ashinji held up both hands and the two guards fell silent. “Please,” he said in a broken voice. “Lady Chiana and I just need to rest for a while. Then we’ll tell our story.” He indicated Gran, still mounted, with a lift of his chin. “One of you go help the lady, and will the other please go fetch Captain Miri and the seneschal now.”
“Yes, Lord Ashinji!”
“Yes, my lord!”
Ashinji squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, battling a wave of vertigo that threatened to pitch him to the ground. He had never before in his life felt so drained, not even after the times he had survived lethal matches on the sands of the Grand Arena. That kind of fatigue had always left his mind strangely energized; the sheer thrill of escaping death for him acted as a potent mental stimulant. What he felt now seemed something else entirely, as if he had expended all his energy in the effort to get back home, and now had nothing left. He didn’t know how much longer he could remain on his feet and conscious.
Gran came up beside him, leaning on the young guardsman for support. She brushed his forearm with her fingertips and a warm jolt of energy flowed up Ashinji’s arm and dispersed throughout his body. He instantly felt better, but guilt made him turn to Gran and chide her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Gran. You need all of your strength.”
“Don’t tell me what to do with what’s mine, young man,” Gran responded. “If I choose to give away my energy, then I will and you’ve got no say in the matter.” Ashinji saw the tenderness in her eyes that belied the tartness of her words. He sighed and kissed her cheek.
“My lord, please come inside.” the guardsman begged, gesturing toward the postern door.
“Take Lady Chiana and send someone out to get the horses,” Ashinji ordered. “I’ll wait here.”
“Straight away, my lord,” the guard responded. Gran allowed herself to be led through the door, offering no resistance, head bowed, her once firm, determined step reduced to a shuffle. Seeing her in such a state, Ashinji felt equal parts guilt and gratitude pierce his heart like twin thorns.
Without her skills and strength, I might never have made it back. I owe her a tremendous debt.
Ashinji did not have long to wait before another guard, a woman this time, emerged from the postern. “L…Lord Ashinji,” she stammered. “Ai,
Goddess, it’s true. You are alive!” She fell to one knee, grabbed Ashinji’s hand and pressed it to her lips. “It was like all our hearts had been torn out, my lord, when word came you’d fallen in battle.” She looked up and smiled. “But now, here you are, alive. The One is truly merciful!”
Sadaiyo, you have much to answer for! Ashinji thought. Fighting to keep the bitterness out of his voice, he replied, “It’s good to be home.”
He placed the horses’ lead ropes into the guardswoman’s hand. “Please, take the horses and see to it they get a thorough rubdown and an extra ration of grain.” He gave each horse a parting slap on the neck as the guard led them away.
I owe those ugly beasts, he thought. They’ve earned their extra grain and much more.
Ashinji waited until the horses had passed through the postern before he crossed over the threshold into the lower yard of Kerala Castle. Another guard waited inside to close and bar the door for the night. “Welcome home, Lord Ashinji,” the man said.
Before Ashinji could respond, a familiar voice shouted his name. He turned to see Gendan rushing toward him, sobbing, arms outstretched. Ashinji braced himself as the other man swept him into a crushing hug. For a few precious moments, all considerations of social hierarchy fell aside. They were just two friends, caught up in the sweetness of unexpected reunion.
“Gendan, I can’t breathe!” Ashinji gasped, laughing. Gendan released his grip and stepped back, wiping his streaming eyes and nose on his sleeve. He opened his mouth to speak but only a wordless gasp emerged.
It took a few more moments before the captain mastered himself enough to speak. “Welcome home, my lord,” he said, his voice still rough with tears. He bowed, and with that act, he and Ashinji became once again lord and liegeman. “The lady that rode in with you is in my office. One of my guards is giving her a cup of tea as we speak.” Ashinji began walking and Gendan fell in beside him.
“Thank you, Gendan,” Ashinji replied. “As soon as she’s had her tea, have someone escort her to the keep. She’s just about reached the limits of her strength.”
“Begging your pardon, my lord, but you look pretty done in yourself,” Gendan commented.
“That’s a very polite way of saying I look like shit, my friend,” Ashinji said, grinning. “It’s been a long journey, Gendan. I know everyone wants to know what happened to me and where I’ve been, but right now, all I want is a bath and some sleep.” Gran’s gift of energy had all but dissipated; Ashinji felt a black wall of exhaustion looming over him, threatening to crush him at any moment.
Walking had become an exercise in sheer willpower; his feet felt like iron weights were attached to his ankles. He had to consciously order his legs to swing forward and his knees to lock so he wouldn’t fall. Gendan’s voice faded to a soft buzz, like a distant swarm of bees heard on a hot, summer day. He had to keep focused on walking—swing the leg, lock the knee, shift forward, don’t fall, do it again…
He became aware he now walked amidst a crowd of excited castle folk. Gendan tried his best to keep them from overwhelming their young lord, but they kept breaking past to touch Ashinji with eager hands. He tried to acknowledge their heartfelt joy at his return, but every nod of his head, every lift of a hand, was a monumental struggle.
Gendan escorted him to the Sakehera family’s private bath house and sent in a servant to assist him. After helping to scrub away weeks of road grime, the manservant stationed himself in a corner on a stool, keeping watch while his young lord soaked and drowsed in the heated water.
Ashinji did not realize he had fallen asleep until the servant woke him, then helped him get from the bath house to his own bed. His last thoughts before falling away into slumber were of Jelena and the first night they had spent together in this very bed. He imagined he could still smell her scent lingering on the pillows.
When next Ashinji opened his eyes, the golden glow of the late afternoon sun had set the shutters of his windows ablaze. He rose only long enough to use the chamber pot, then returned to bed where he promptly fell back to sleep and straight into a dream.
The Prince Rides to War
Jelena stood atop the broad staircase before the main entrance of Sendai Castle, her infant daughter cradled in her arms, eyes narrowed against the bright glare of the morning sun. Below, spread in neat ranks across the parade ground, the Prince’s Guard waited—at ease, yet attentive. The sounds of muted conversation, jangling harness and blowing horses filled the air.
Jelena waited as well, for her uncle and for Mai. Last evening, over an intimate supper in her private apartments, Jelena had accepted Mai’s offer of marriage; much to her surprise, he had insisted they wait until he returned from the war.
“You’ve suffered the loss of one husband already. I won’t make you a widow twice,” he offered in explanation. Reluctantly, she had agreed with his reasoning. Though neither one wished to dwell on it, they held no illusions. That night, they clung to each other, unable to sleep, afraid this would be their final time together as lovers.
The clatter of arms and armor drew Jelena back to the present. She turned to see her uncle, accompanied by his two sons and his aides, sweep out of the shadowy interior of the main atrium onto the steps beside her. Prince Raidan looked resplendent in his exquisite blue-lacquered armor, his dark, shining hair adorned with a simple gold coronet.
“Good morning, Niece.” His handsome face was set in hard lines and sharp angles. Beads of perspiration dotted his brow.
“Greetings, Uncle,” Jelena replied, then nodded to her cousins. Contrary to his usual sullen demeanor, Raidu wore a look of feral anticipation.
Perhaps the prospect of bloodshed excites my cousin, Jelena thought.
His brother Kaisik, however, looked like a rabbit caught in a snare—terrified but resigned. Jelena’s heart ached for her sensitive younger cousin.
“Is Mai with you, Uncle?” Jelena strained to see over the heads of the soldiers clustered around the prince. Hatora stirred and began to whimper.
She’s hungry. Jelena bounced the baby to distract her.
“I’m here, Jelena,” Mai answered, emerging from behind the knot of the prince’s aides. He moved to stand beside her, reached down to tickle the baby, and received a drooling smile for his efforts.
Raidan’s eyes flicked from Jelena’s face to Mai’s and back. “I’ve promoted Mai Nohe to my personal staff,” the prince announced. “He’ll take his orders directly from me now. I hope this pleases you, Niece.”
Jelena’s face lit up with surprise and delight. “Yes! Oh, yes, Uncle, it does, very much!” She and Mai exchanged ecstatic glances. Jelena realized her uncle had done this thing as a favor to her; still, Mai’s promotion meant much more than just an increase in pay and responsibilities. It meant the prince considered Swordmaster Kurume Nohe’s son a worthy consort for his niece.
Raidan took Jelena’s elbow and steered her away from Mai and the others. “Jelena, I’ve just come from the king’s quarters. Your father is no better, but he’s no worse, either, which is cause for cautious optimism. I’ve left detailed instructions with my chief medical assistant as to how the king is to be cared for. I’ve given Sonoe instructions as well.”
“Sonoe has been wonderful, Uncle. She’s barely left Father’s side. I’ve practically had to force her to come away long enough to bathe and eat,” Jelena said, then added, “Sonoe really loves Father, Uncle. I can see it in her eyes whenever she looks at him. It’s…well, it’s unfair that she’s denied marriage to Father simply because she’s a commoner.”
“It may be unfair, but it’s the way things are,” Raidan replied. “Listen to me carefully now, Jelena.” Jelena took a deep breath and fixed her eyes on her uncle’s face. As if sensing her mother needed to concentrate, Hatora stopped fidgeting and tucked one tiny fist into her mouth.
“I am entrusting you with the defense of Sendai,” Raidan continued. “I can see I don’t need to tell you how vital your task will be. You must stand in for both mysel
f and, more importantly, for the king.”
Jelena nodded. “I’ll not fail you, or my father,” she said.
“The survival of the elves as a people, as a nation, has never before been so precarious.” Raidan paused, then laid a hand on her shoulder. “Jelena, I know something of what the Kirians have planned for you, and until recently, I didn’t much care. You know now that I do. While I can’t tell you exactly what will happen, I do know it will be extraordinarily dangerous.”
Jelena swallowed hard and clenched her hands a little tighter within the folds of Hatora’s blanket. “I know the Sundering will be dangerous, Uncle, but it’s necessary. The Key must be removed from me and placed within an inanimate object the Kirians can safeguard. Otherwise…”
“Otherwise, the Nameless One will use his growing power to tear the Key from Jelena’s body—destroying her in the process—and use it to complete what he began a thousand years ago,” Taya said.
At the sound of her voice, Raidan looked up and a tiny smile creased the corners of his mouth. “Ah, my wife has arrived, at last,” he murmured. The princess approached with measured stride, dressed in lightweight silk the color of the sea at dusk. A red sash, symbol of her rank as a First Mage of the Kan Onji, bound her slender waist.
Raidan held out his hand and Taya clasped it firmly. She fastened her cool gaze upon Jelena. “Your niece knows her duty, Husband,” the princess said. “You needn’t worry. The Kirians will see to it that the Sundering goes as planned.”
“I’m not afraid, Uncle,” Jelena lied. “Both Sonoe and Aunt Taya have helped me prepare. I’m ready.” She knew Raidan could see right through her brave façade by the way his eyes narrowed.
“What about my mages, Wife?” the prince asked, veering away from the subject of the Sundering.
“There are five Firsts and nine Seconds of the Kan Onji waiting at the outer city gates,” Taya reported, “as well as an additional twenty or so mages from the other orders. Every order sent at least one representative. You should have more than enough magical strength.”
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