Leslie Moore - Griffin's Shadow

Ashinji shook his head. “I thought your commanders would have killed me first, rather than let me return to my people.”

Thessalina tossed her glossy mane. “Enough gold changes even the most resolute of minds. I would have had to share the ransom with them, of course.”

“My brother would not have bargained with you in any case,” Ashinji said.

“Why not?” Thessalina lifted one eyebrow.

Ashinji did not reply, but his expression must have given her some clue, for she frowned and said “I am truly sorry for you, Ashinji.”

“My lady, I’ve come to tend the elf.” The surgeon strode up, followed by an assistant carrying a leather sack. He exclaimed with satisfaction when he saw Ashinji conscious and standing. “The draught worked. Excellent.” He snapped his fingers. “Bring him in here so I can work,” he ordered, indicating the enclosure.

Ashinji sat down on the dingy straw and tried to remain still as the surgeon first removed the bandages then proceeded to clean the wound, but the man made no effort to be gentle. By the time he finished, Ashinji had nearly reached the end of his endurance. Sweat-soaked and shaking, he shot the surgeon a bitter, angry glare as the man wiped his hands on a rag and stood. “I’m finished. You can take him now,” he called out. To Ashinji, he snapped, “On your feet.”

Marcus entered the enclosure, a pair of manacles dangling from his hand.

“C’mon now, Ashinji. Time to go,” the slaver said cheerily. The manacles clinked as they swung against Marcus’ thigh.

For in instant, Ashinji considered running, then just as quickly gave up the idea. Even if he could find the strength to run, he would be cut down before he could take three steps.

“My father is Lord of Kerala, Commanding General of the Armies of Alasiri,” he whispered. “I am the son-in-law of the king. Do not do this to me, please!” He despised himself for begging, but he had nothing else left.

“I know you’ve got a pedigree, Ashinji, but none of that matters anymore,” Marcus said. “You’re a slave now, that’s all. The sooner you accept it, the easier things’ll be for you. I s’pose I could try to sell you back to your dad…that is, if you really are who you say you are…but why should I take the risk? There’s a war on, and your people just might kill me first and ask questions later. No…” He shook his head for emphasis. “I’ll make a very handsome profit selling you in Darguinia, with no risk to my life.” His voice hardened. “Now, get up and hold out your hands.”

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.

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.