Griffin's Shadow

by Lelsie Ann Moore

  Very well. Do what you must. The voice in her head sounded faint and hollow. I grow weary and must rest.

  In the heavily guarded place in her mind where Sonoe sequestered all thoughts she didn’t want the Nameless One to know, she indulged in a mental sneer.

  He’s squandered most of his energy lashing out at me. As painful as that was, it’s far better than what he usually does.

  Sonoe was a proud woman, accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed. She would never consider herself a slave, and she suffered all the indignities the Nameless One heaped upon her for one reason only.

  Power.

  Sonoe had a plan—a secret strategy she kept hidden away behind mental shields that not even the Nameless One could pierce. Let him use me now, she thought, but when I’m ready, the tables will be turned and the master becomes the slave. The power of the Key was too seductive, too all-encompassing. She could not allow the corrupt spirit of a long-dead sorcerer king to wield it for his own twisted purpose.

  Sonoe had determined to take the power for herself and rule the known world as its benevolent queen.

  But I will rule alone.

  “Go and rest, Master,” she said, her voice softened with just the right amount of servile sweetness. “I will contact you later.”

  The spirit formed no words in her mind, but Sonoe felt him fuming at his own weakness. She waited as his essence drained away, like dirty water sluicing down a gutter, then heaved a sigh of relief and rubbed at her bruised neck.

  Poor Jelena, she thought. I must go to her at once.

  A wave of genuine sadness washed over her, catching the young mage by surprise. Fiercely, she shook it off.

  You’re getting soft, Sonoe! Stay focused, she chided herself. After extinguishing all the candles with a finger snap, she left her work room to the dark and the spiders.

  Chapter 20

  Captured

  "Whoa! Hold on to ‘im, lads! He’s wakin’ up!”

  Slowly, consciousness returned, and with it, pain.

  What’s happening?

  “This one’s special. Look at his armor!”

  Voices…Soldaran…what…where am I?

  “I’ve never seen such armor before. It’s…it’s painted.”

  Ashinji opened his eyes.

  I’m alive!

  “Look! He’s awake!”

  Ai, Goddess! Feels like an axe blade’s split my head open!

  A wave of nausea swept over him, and he had just enough strength to roll over onto his side to retch. This action brought a new, agonizing discovery. The arrow that had pierced his left shoulder remained, embedded deep in the muscle.

  Ashinji flopped onto his back again, desperately fighting the red fog of pain that threatened to overwhelm his mind and send him hurtling back into the dark. His body begged him to let go, to seek the release of oblivion, but his mind stubbornly refused.

  I’m alive. I’ve got to keep fighting.

  “I claim his armor. I’m the one what struck the blow that felled ‘im.”

  “Hey, there! That’s not right! We all helped capture him. We split ‘is stuff, fair ‘n square!”

  “You shouldn’t get anything, Lew, you idiot! It was you what almost killed him with that arrow, even after the cap’n said to take him alive!”

  “Shut up, all of you! He may still die. Just look at him. He’s lost a lot of blood. Anyway, there’ll be no squabbling. Jan’s right; we all had a hand in his capture. His gear gets split between us, but seeing as I’m senior, I get first pick.”

  Ashinji’s mind worked feverishly, despite the pain, to assess his situation. I’m on the ground, surrounded by at least eight men, he thought. He recognized the voice of the burly human standing at his feet, a lantern clutched in one beefy hand. This man had directed the attack, and the authority in his tone marked him as their leader.

  The man stooped and lifted Ashinji’s sword off the ground. He hefted the blade in his free hand. “I’ll take this, I think. I’ve heard the elves make better swords than we do.” He swung the blade over his head in a wide arc. “Good balance,” he commented.

  “He’s watching us, Cap’n. D’you think he understands what we’re saying’?”

  “You bonehead! ‘Course he does...you heard him yell at us in Soldaran, remember?” He held the lantern up so its light dazzled Ashinji’s watering eyes. “Hey, tink! You understand us, don’t you?”

  Ashinji debated the choice of whether he should feign incomprehension, in the hope of learning something which could aid in his escape, versus attempting to bargain with the humans—offer them the promise of ransom if they returned him to Kerala. He chose the latter course.

  “My name is Ashinji Sakehera,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “My father is Sen Sakehera, Lord of Kerala. He is very rich and will pay you far more in ransom than what my gear is worth.”

  “See, he speaks Soldaran real good! How about that?” the captain exclaimed. “Well, Ash-een-gee…Sakee…heery, just how are we supposed to get word to your high and mighty father, eh? Shall we ride up to his gate and announce ourselves? I don’t think so. In fact, I have a better idea.”

  “What we gonna do with him, Cap’n?”

  The captain stroked his chin, regarding Ashinji with frank speculation.

  “Well, just look at him, lads. Look at that face. Fine and pretty as he is, I reckon with a little paint and a nice gown, he’d make a right proper girl. What do you say to that, eh, Pretty Ash-een-gee?”

  “There must not be enough human women around here for you to rape,” Ashinji retorted, the bitter brew of rage and pain making him reckless. The captain aimed a vicious kick at his gut. The blow connected with devastating force, and Ashinji folded up with a grunt.

  “Now now, Pretty! See what you’ve made me go and do!” Coarse laughter rang in Ashinji’s ears.

  “We gonna castrate him an’ sell him to a brothel?” More laughter.

  “No, you idiot!” the captain spat. “We’re taking him straight to her Ladyship. She’d have my balls for her belt if she found out we captured a tink officer and didn’t bring him in for questioning.”

  So that’s it, then. I’m to be taken to the enemy encampment and subjected to interrogation.

  Ashinji sighed with relief and closed his eyes. He had no illusions about his situation, but at least the danger of summary execution had passed, for the present.

  “Wha’ about that arrow?” someone asked.

  Ashinji peered groggily at the slender shaft of wood protruding from his shoulder. The arrow had broken off at midpoint, leaving the iron tip buried in his flesh. If one of the humans tried to remove it, he might bleed to death.

  “No! Leave the arrow alone!” he gasped, terrified that they intended to draw it out right then and there.

  “Pretty Ash-een-gee’s right. We’ll leave the arrow for the surgeon to deal with. We wouldn’t want him bleeding out on us now, after all the trouble we went through to capture him alive.” The captain gazed up at the sky. “C’mon lads. Dawn’s not far off and the tink army is still just over the river, no doubt missing Ash-een-gee here. We’d better get moving. Lew, Conor, get him to his feet.”

  Rough hands seized Ashinji by his arms and hauled him up. He bit back a scream as the humans’ brutal handling kindled the dull throb in his shoulder to fiery agony. He swung his head from side to side in an effort to shake off the swoon that threatened to take him.

  “How’re we gonna get him back to camp, Cap’n? He don’t look like he can walk too good.”

  “Hmm.” The captain paused, then declared, “He’ll have to ride. I’ll carry him with me, on the front of my saddle. We’ll need to strip off his armor first, though.”

  So, this is the final humiliation—to be dragged into the enemy camp stripped, wounded, and completely helpless,” Ashinji thought. Sadaiyo, did you hate me so much that you hoped I would suffer before my death, or did you wish a clean, quick end for me? Either way, the result will be t
he same.

  Because they had no familiarity with elven armor, the humans did a clumsy job of removing it from his body, and despite his efforts to remain stoic, Ashinji could not hide his suffering. His captors wrung several cries of pain from him, clearly taking delight in his agonies. When they had finished, Ashinji sagged in the arms of the captain, clad only in his blood-soaked under-tunic and breeches. As a final insult, the captain pulled his wedding bracelet from his wrist and yanked the service rings from his earlobe.

  Dazed and semi-conscious, Ashinji could not resist as the captain hauled him up into place at the front of his saddle.

  The man steadied him with one well-muscled arm. “Hold on, Pretty. I’ll have you kneeling before her Ladyship by and by.”

  Ashinji squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for a quick release.

  ~~~

  The captain reined his bay gelding to a jerky stop. He let go of his grip and Ashinji slid from the saddle to land hard upon the ground, where he lay until one of the humans hauled him to his feet. Two men stood on either side of him, supporting his weight with their bodies so he wouldn’t collapse.

  “Conor!” the captain barked. “Go and tell the bosses we’re back and we’ve got a present for her Ladyship.” The man called Conor, wiry and slim as a racing hound, took off to carry out his orders. The captain came and stood before Ashinji. “Her Ladyship’ll be very keen on learning all of your secrets, Pretty. I suggest you cooperate. She’s not a girl who takes too kindly to nonsense.”

  A crowd had formed around Ashinji and the returning raiders. Even in his current, pain-fogged state, Ashinji could sense the humans’ feral excitement at having an enemy, wounded and helpless, among them. He could almost believe the scent of his blood stoked their lust for his murder.

  “Captain Sirrus!”

  The crowd parted to make way for a woman. She strode forward to stand before the captain, who snapped a brisk salute.

  “Your Ladyship,” he responded.

  She wore the mantle of authority with the ease and confidence of one accustomed to command. Clad in the armor of a noble, she carried herself like a lifelong soldier. Her thick, dark hair hung in a loose braid down her back and a slim circlet of gold rested on her brow. Even in the crazy mix of light and shadow made by torches and lanterns, Ashinji had no trouble guessing her identity, for she closely resembled her brother Magnes.

  “So, it’s true, then. You’ve captured one of their officers,” she said. “The information this man has could prove to be of extreme value, provided we can somehow communicate with him.” She paused, then added, “Well done, Captain.”

  Captain Sirrus ducked his head in acknowledgment of the praise. “He can speak Soldaran, Ladyship,” he pointed out, then stepped aside so his commander could approach Ashinji.

  She stood for several moments, saying nothing, regarding Ashinji with cool appraisal. He stared back, trying to conceal how awful he felt. To let her see any weakness in him now would be disastrous. Her gaze flicked down to the splintered arrow shaft protruding from his shoulder.

  “That looks like it hurts,” she said.

  “It does, but I can manage.”

  The woman frowned, a quick twist of her full lower lip. “I doubt that very much,” she countered. “All men are much the same, whether they’re human or elf, I think. You needn’t try to impress me with your bravery.” She reached out and swiped a forefinger across Ashinji’s brow, then held it up in front of his face. “Cold sweat,” she said. “I know what an arrow wound feels like. Your face is as white as fresh curds.”

  “Thessalina Preseren, my name is Ashinji Sakehera.”

  The woman started in surprise. “How do you know who I am?”

  “Your brother Magnes is my friend,” Ashinji replied.

  Thessalina’s eyes narrowed. “You know my brother?” she asked sharply. “Then you must be…you’re the one he talked about…the elf nobleman who took in my tink cousin!”

  “Jelena is my wife,” Ashinji stated. Magnes’ sister seemed taken aback by this piece of information, as if the fact that she and Ashinji had a familial connection disturbed her. “If Magnes is here, I’m certain he would wish to see me,” Ashinji added.

  “My brother Magnes disappeared some months ago,” Thessalina revealed. “After our father died. No one knows where he went or if he’ll ever return. For the time being, I am acting as his regent.” Her face clouded over. Ashinji felt resentment flowing from her like a gray fog. His heart sank. Contacting Magnes had been his only real hope of escape.

  “Captain Sirrus, you and your men will be rewarded,” Thessalina said. “Have the prisoner brought to my tent straightaway.” She spun on her heel and walked away.

  “You heard what her Ladyship said!” Captain Sirrus barked. He motioned to the two men holding Ashinji’s arms and they hustled him forward, unmindful of his wound. By the time they reached Thessalina’s large tent at the center of the camp, fresh blood seeped out around the embedded arrowhead, and Ashinji was breathless from stifling his screams. His captors released him, and, too weak to stand, he collapsed to the rug-covered canvas floor.

  “Gods!” he heard Thessalina exclaim. “Fetch the surgeon at once!”

  “Yes, my lady!” Footsteps pounded out of the tent. Ashinji felt a hand cradle his head. He opened his eyes to find Thessalina bending over him.

  “Can you hear me?” Her dark gaze pierced the fog shrouding his mind.

  “Yes, I can hear you,” he whispered. “May I please have some water?” Thirst had become almost as harsh a pain as that of his wound.

  “Bring me some water!” Thessalina ordered, and someone handed her a leather canteen. She uncorked the spout and, supporting Ashinji’s head in one hand, she held the bottle to his lips. The tepid water tasted of cowhide, but Ashinji drank until Thessalina pulled it away. “Not too much. You’ll make yourself sick,” she murmured.

  “Help me up, please,” he croaked. Thessalina slipped an arm beneath his uninjured shoulder and assisted him into a sitting position. She then squatted beside him, staring intently into his face. Neither one spoke for many heartbeats.

  Finally, Ashinji broke the silence. “What are you going to do with me?” he asked, returning her gaze.

  “Your Soldaran is excellent. How and why did you learn to speak our tongue?” she responded, ignoring his question.

  “Languages come easily to me. I had a tutor who taught me the basics, and my father has many books written in Soldaran. As for the why…Is it not wise to know one’s enemy as intimately as possible? What better way than to learn his language?”

  Thessalina sighed and bit her lower lip. “I’ve never actually seen a full-blooded elf before, let alone talked to one,” she said.

  Ashinji’s chuckle turned into a wince. “Your brother said something similar to me when we first met,” he replied.

  “Your commander made a foolish mistake, settling his army in a field of dry grass. Did he not think we’d try to burn him out?”

  “My commander is…” Ashinji stopped himself before the words not an experienced officer escaped his lips. No. I can’t let her know of any weaknesses, he thought. Instead, he said, “Your raiders were lucky…to get past our pickets. It will not happen again.”

  Thessalina’s eyebrows shot up like the wings of a bird. “Lucky, you say. I say otherwise...We will cross the river at dawn. Our numbers are far superior to yours, and your soldiers will be worn out from fighting the fire.”

  “Our force is made up of seasoned professionals. They will hold their own, I have no doubt. We defend our homeland, do not forget.” Ashinji paused, fighting a fresh wave of nausea and dizziness. He coughed, then whispered, “We will resist you…to our very last breaths.”

  “I expect you will,” Thessalina replied.

  “What…will you…do with me?” Ashinji asked again. He could barely keep his eyes open now.

  Thessalina did not answer for several heartbeats. Finally, she said, “I don’t know, yet.” />
  “My lady, the surgeon is here.” A soldier stood at the tent’s entrance with another man, clad in a leather apron, beside him. Thessalina motioned for the surgeon to enter. He crossed over to where Ashinji sat and hunkered down to examine the broken arrow.

  “Have him brought to the hospital tent, my lady,” the surgeon directed. “Should be a simple matter of drawing out the tip, as long as it’s not barbed… none of the archers uses barbed heads, do they? Anyhow, I’ll draw out the tip, flush the wound, and apply a poultice. I suppose his kind can get wound poisoning and fevers like we can, but tinks are tough…or so I’ve heard.” His voice oozed contempt. Thessalina nodded her head in dismissal and the man stood and departed.

  Ashinji could feel the last of his strength trickling away with each fresh drop of blood that escaped his body.

  Thessalina looked down at him with what might have been a measure of sympathy. “We’ll talk later, if you survive.” She snapped her fingers. “Take him,” she ordered. The same two guards who had brought him before their commander came forward and hoisted Ashinji to his feet. They saluted, then half-dragged, half-carried their captive from the tent. Ashinji struggled to support some of his own weight in order to relieve the excruciating pressure on his wounded shoulder, but the guards mistook his efforts for an escape attempt.

  “Quit wigglin’! You’ll not get away from us, tink,” the man on his left growled. He tightened his grip, cruelly digging in his fingers.

  Human faces, distorted with hatred, derision, savage glee, and every other kind of ugliness passed by in a blur as the guards hustled him through the camp. Ashinji felt like a wounded animal, paraded before the masses in a sick spectacle. He tried to conceal his fear, but he was just too beaten, too drained.

  In a curtained-off area at the back of the large, empty hospital tent, the surgeon stood waiting, hands on hips, an impatient scowl twisting his thin lips. Two younger, larger men stood on either side of him, each clad in a heavy leather apron matching his own. A long wooden table filled the remaining space.