Leslie Moore - Griffin's Shadow

“If it please you, my lord Sadaiyo, you may give me your requirements, and any instructions you may have now.”

Sadaiyo turned to Ashinji. “Eagle and Kestrel Companies will camp at the castle. The rest of the army will go out in the pastures, and you’ll ride with them to supervise. When the troops are settled, you may return to the castle.”

“Yes, Brother.” Ashinji’s voice was cool but his eyes burned with anger. Sadaiyo knew full well Ashinji believed in sharing the living conditions of his company while in the field. By relegating the Peregrines to the pastures outside the castle walls, he had compelled Ashinji to join them. While his brother slept in comfort, Ashinji would have the hard ground as his bed.

Sadaiyo betrayed his satisfaction with a tiny smirk; he would never dare to gloat or laugh aloud at his cruelty in front of the troops.

Ashinji remounted Kian. “I’ll see you tonight, then.” He wheeled the black gelding and started back across the bridge to where the army waited, strung out along the far bank of the river like a large, shiny millipede.

“I’ll save your old place at table!” Sadaiyo called out after him.

Three days later, Ashinji sat astride Kian under a hazy yellow sky, staring at a swath of forest in the distance. The force that had left Sendai thirteen days earlier now occupied a position a little to the east of the Saihama River fords, the only place where an army of any size could safely cross the river. Elven scouts had put the Soldaran forces about a day’s march south of the fords.

“We beat them here, Little Brother!” Sadaiyo had crowed triumphantly upon their arrival, and even Ashinji had to admit the hard march out of Sendai had been a wise decision. It had gotten them to Kerala Castle ahead of the enemy, and given the troops some time to rest.

A field of golden-brown grass, waist-high and dried to hay in the relentless sun, stretched in a gentle slope down toward where the trees began. The hay should have been chopped weeks ago, but fear had kept the farmer who worked this land cooped up at home. Ashinji felt a surge of anger, for now, the hay would go to waste.

“We’ll set up camp here and post guards at the fords,” Sadaiyo ordered and his officers, including Ashinji, moved quickly to obey. As he rode Kian through the tinder-dry grass, Ashinji thought about the danger of fire, and the questionable wisdom of Sadaiyo’s decision to make camp in this spot.

I couldn’t disagree with him in front of the troops , he thought. Dissent before the ranks looks very bad…Besides, he’d only ignore me.

He decided to give an order forbidding any cooking fires. The troops would grumble at having to eat cold rations; still, he couldn’t run the risk of a stray spark starting an unintentional blaze that would almost surely lead to disaster.

After he had seen to Kian, he spent some time arranging the postings to the fords, and making certain his order about no fires got disseminated through the camp. Only after he finished his duties would he see to his own needs.

By the time Ashinji could finally sit down and rest, dusk had fallen. Homan had already set up his camp chair and as Ashinji sank into it with a grimace, the sergeant held out a plate and cup. Ashinji took them with a murmured word of thanks. A hunk of cheese, two journeycakes, and a pile of dried berries rested on the plate, and a sip of the mug’s contents confirmed that Homan had fetched some beer from the supply wagons. Ashinji sighed with gratitude and took a bite of cheese.

As he ate, his mind drifted back to his last evening at Kerala Castle, three days past, when he had paid a visit to the home of Gendan and Kami. The couple had invited him to help celebrate both their reunion and the impending birth of their child. Over a special meal prepared by Gendan himself, they had listened as Kami caught them both up on all the latest news and gossip. Though Kami’s pregnancy had progressed without any problems, she had expressed great weariness of her physical state.

“I’m actually looking forward to my labor!” she had claimed. Upon hearing the news of Jelena’s own pregnancy, she had wept with joy, and Ashinji had been genuinely touched at the depth of affection the young guard still felt for his wife.

That evening had been one of peace and friendship, of quiet good cheer and the deliberate banishment of all fear and uncertainty of the future. For a few short, precious hours, Ashinji forgot his anger and grief.

The thud of footfalls and the hail of a sentry broke into Ashinji’s reverie, dragging his mind back into the present.

“Runner’s here, Cap’n,” Homan announced. Ashinji nodded and gestured to the messenger to approach. A slim young woman trotted up and bowed. In her hand, she held a folded piece of paper.

“My lord, I bring orders from the general,” she said, a little out of breath from running.

So, he’s calling himself ‘the general’ now , Ashinji thought. His eyebrow lifted in sardonic amusement. He set his plate and cup on the ground and held out his hand. The girl relinquished the paper, then stood waiting expectantly. Ashinji unfolded the paper and held it up, squinting.

“Here, Cap’n. Don’t strain yourself,” Homan said, raising a lantern over Ashinji’s head so the light could illuminate the message.

“Thanks, Sergeant.” Ashinji read in silence, then looked at Homan and said, “It seems that we are to hold the left flank tomorrow.” He turned his attention to the runner. “No answer,” he said. The girl bowed, then darted off into the darkness.

A ferocious itch developed just below the upper edge of his breastplate, a hair’s width lower than his finger could reach. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the torment. “Goddess’ tits, I wish we didn’t have to sleep in armor tonight!” he grumbled.

“I hear you, my lord,” Homan commiserated. “Best you be turning in soon, after you finish your dinner, o’course. The humans’ll be here and spoilin’ for a fight on the morrow. Your cot’s all made up for you, whenever you’re ready.”

How wonderful it would be if I could just sleep tonight…no dreams of fire and death…just nothingness.

“Thank you, Homan. I think I’ll take your advice, but not until I’ve walked a little.” Ashinji stood and stretched. “I’m feeling a bit restless,” he added.

“What, now, my lord? You’ve not finished your dinner.”

Ashinji shrugged. “Not that hungry, I guess.”

“I’ll walk with you, if you like, Cap’n,” Homan offered.

“No, no. You stay here… finish your own dinner. I’ll not be long, and I won’t go far.”

“Very good, my lord.”

Ashinji set off at a leisurely pace, threading his way between clumps of men and women, some sitting on the ground, others standing or reclining as comfortably as they could on the hard earth.

As he made his way through the darkened camp, he could see no details in the faces around him, but he kept his ears wide open, catching every snippet of conversation. He never paused, preferring to listen as he walked, and what he heard did not surprise him.

The troops were nervous-understandably so-but unafraid, and determined to hold the line against the enemy. The Soldaran Imperial legions were arguably the finest fighting force in the known world, but the army awaiting them across the border in Amsara consisted of local levies, not professional Imperial regulars. The Duke’s force had the advantage in numbers only.

The Alasiri force, in contrast, consisted entirely of professional soldiers, all highly trained and well equipped. Ashinji knew both his father and King Keizo counted on the superior skill of the Alasiri regulars, along with the small contingent of Kerala guards, to offset the disadvantage of their lesser numbers. Despite his own confidence in the abilities of his troops, Ashinji had no illusions. The battle to come would no doubt prove brutal and bloody.