Leslie Moore - Griffin's Shadow

He wore a deep blue tunic and trousers of raw silk, richly decorated with an embroidered pattern of sleek, calico carp. Padded socks and leather sandals covered his feet. He wore no jewelry save a large ruby in his left ear and a heavy signet ring of white gold upon his right hand. He held his left hand closed around something.

The king studied her closely, as if trying to memorize every detail of her face. Jelena had to struggle not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. He tilted his head to one side, expectant.

Nervously, she cleared her throat.

“I was born at a place known as Amsara, in the castle of my uncle the duke. My mother was his only sister.” Jelena told her story concisely, with little embellishment. She had no desire to inspire pity in this man, nor did she want any special favors from him. She only wanted to know if she had the right to call him ‘Father’.

As she spoke, Silverlock continued to study her, but his manner remained reassuring, and she felt her apprehension slowly melt away.

“And so, my father-in-law brought me with him to Sendai, so that I might ask your help, Majesty.” Jelena fell silent, her story concluded.

“Sen Sakehera is my oldest friend. We were boys together,” Keizo said, a wistful note coloring his voice. He rolled the hidden object around in his left hand, then opened his fingers to reveal Jelena’s ring. “But even Sen didn’t know certain things about me…until tonight.”

“That is my ring, Majesty, but…of course, you already know that. Did it tell you anything…about who my father might be?” Jelena asked. She almost dared not breathe.

“Let me tell you a story now,” the king replied softly. “Many years ago, a young man set out on a journey to visit the home of an old friend who lived far to the east, a friend he hadn’t seen in awhile. While on the road, he heard stories of increased trouble with humans in the border areas to the southeast. Because he held a high position in the land, he felt it was his duty to investigate, and so he made a detour for that purpose.”

“While riding through the forest along the border, the man stumbled upon an armed human patrol. The humans immediately gave chase, and the man rode for his life, knowing that if the soldiers caught him, they would kill him. He managed to lose his pursuers, but his horse stumbled badly and threw the man down into a dry creek bed. He landed hard and broke his leg.”

Jelena gasped in dismay, but said nothing, not wanting to disturb the king’s train of thought.

“He lay for a very long time in that hot, dry streambed, tormented by pain and thirst. He nearly lost his life, but the Goddess at last granted him mercy and sent his deliverance in the form of a woman. This woman shielded him from his enemies and tended his body while his injuries healed.”

“Ai,” the king sighed, “those weeks were so long, pain-filled, and fraught with peril… not just for the man, but for his caregiver as well, for, you see, they were in constant danger of discovery. The man pleaded with the woman to leave him and return to her home. He knew that if she were found harboring him, she would share his fate. Her own people would kill her, just as they would kill him. She refused.”

It’s just as Claudia told me…as my mother told her, Jelena thought. She dared to look directly at the king as he spoke, and imagined what her mother’s feelings must have been like while gazing at the same face.

“A strange thing began to happen between the two of them,” the king continued, “although, if one thinks about it, it doesn’t seem so strange after all. Like a rose through winter snow, love bloomed in their hearts. The strength of his feelings took the man completely by surprise, but the woman confessed to him that she had known, from the beginning, that this was meant to be.”

“They spent three, joyous, heart-wrenching days as lovers. The man, despite his pain, made love to his dear one with intense, bittersweet passion. They both cried many tears of anguish, for they knew their love could never leave the shelter of their hiding place. It had to end when he became strong enough to make his escape.”

“On the day he left, the man gave the woman the only possession of his that he had to give. A small remembrance, perhaps, but after all, it was enough.” He leaned forward, his eyes locked to hers, then said, “I slipped my ring onto Drucilla’s finger and left her behind. I never looked back, dared not, for if I had, I might not have had the strength to leave, and we would both be dead now. And you would have never been born.”

Jelena felt a mantle of calm descend upon her. All of her anxiety melted before the power of the king’s revelation.

Keizo slipped her ring onto the middle finger of his left hand, then extended both hands, palms down, towards her. Her ring was an exact match to the one he wore on his right hand. Both rings gleamed softly in the lamplight, but the king’s seemed brighter, somehow. Jelena could only stare, first at Keizo’s hands-so fine and beautiful-then at his face.

“One final test remains, a confirmation, really, of what I know in my heart to be true.” The king removed the ring from his right hand and held it up before Jelena’s eyes. “This is the White Griffin, the Ring of State that has passed down from one Onjara sovereign to the next. It has been over a thousand years since its making, and it contains powers that only one of true Onjara blood can awaken. Your ring is a copy of this one. ” He held out his hand. “Put it on, Jelena.”

Jelena looked at the ring on his palm, so like hers and yet… “What if I put it on and nothing happens?” she whispered.

“Something will happen,” the king declared. His tone left no room for doubt. Jelena picked the ring up off his palm and slipped it onto her right index finger.

The metal flared to life and glowed like a blue-white star, startling Jelena and dazzling her eyes. She felt the energy of the ring’s magic pulling at her; deep within herself, her own magic-that which Amara called the Key- stirred in response. She looked at the king in astonishment. “It…I…” she stammered, unable to say anything more.

Keizo nodded in understanding. “Jelena, I could not have known that I left Drucilla with child, though I plead guilty to pushing the potential consequences of acting on our love from my mind. It was terribly selfish of me, and I realize that my excuses can only sound disgustingly weak to you…you who had to suffer from those very consequences. I never would have left you among your mother’s people if I had known about you. Somehow, I would have found a way to rescue you.”

Deep within her, Jelena felt a dam burst. She opened her mouth to cry out, but a mere trickle of sound escaped her lips, a barely breathed word.

“Father…”

The king opened his arms. “Come, Daughter,” he whispered.

Jelena went to him, laid her head upon his chest, and lost herself in his embrace.

This can’t be happening! I must be dreaming and I’m going to wake up any moment!

“What are you thinking, Jelena?”

Jelena sighed and opened her eyes. Keizo gazed earnestly at her, faint worry lines creasing his forehead. “I was just wondering when I was going to awaken from this beautiful dream,” she answered.

“‘Tis no dream, child. I’ll gladly pinch you to prove it.” He smiled, and Jelena’s heart fluttered. That this man… this man, of all men, was her father seemed truly astounding.

“I…I do not know what to say, how to act. I’m just a…a…” She searched in vain for the correct word but the king spoke before she could.

“You are a daughter of the House of Onjara. In ancient high Siri-dar, onjara means ‘griffin’. Our line has ruled unbroken in Alasiri for over a thousand years. Never doubt your blood, Jelena.”