Leslie Moore - Griffin's Shadow

“You’ll be safe enough here, I think,” he said, then climbed down and stumped off. Ashinji sighed and wrapped himself up in a blanket, then lay down and tried to sponge his mind clean of thoughts.

A few moments later, he felt rather than saw a small body creep into the wagon. A hand grasped the edge of the blanket and gave it a sharp tug.

Ashinji looked up to find a boy, thin-faced and crowned with a shock of sandy hair staring at him, eyes wide as saucers. The child made a little choking noise in his throat and backed away. Ashinji watched as he scrambled off the wagon and fell into the arms of his comrades, who all began chattering at once.

“Get away from there, you brats!” Marcus bellowed.

The children scattered like sparrows before a hawk, shrieking as they ran. Cries of “tink, tink!” echoed against the walls.

Marcus climbed back up in the wagon bed, growling like an angry lion.

“Damn brats,” he spat. He held out a small wooden cup. “The doctor told me to give you this three times a day for the next three days.” Ashinji propped himself on his elbow and took the cup from Marcus’ hand. He drained the bitter liquid in one gulp, fighting the urge to gag. He recognized the draught as the same concoction that Thessalina’s camp surgeon had given him the night before.

“Are you hungry?” Marcus asked.

“Yes,” Ashinji answered, surprised at just how hungry he did feel.

“I’ll bring you some grub, then.” Ashinji pulled the threadbare blanket back over his shoulders and lay down to wait for the promised food.

He knew he had fallen asleep only after the soft whisper of a female voice in his ear woke him. He rolled over and peered out through the slats of the wagon’s side to see a woman staring back at him.

Short and stout, the woman wore the plain garb of a servant. Several tendrils of iron-gray hair had escaped the kerchief covering her head and hung down to frame a face on which every line and groove told of a lifetime of toil and worry. She kept glancing around her as if she feared discovery.

“ Psst,” she hissed. “C’n ye understand me? Are ye awake?” She wrung her hands together. “Oh, please, talk t’me if ye can!”

Despite his fatigue, Ashinji sat up and leaned against the side of the wagon so the woman could see his face. “What is it you wish to speak to me about, Grandmother?” he inquired in a gentle voice, addressing her as he would an elderly elven woman.

“Oh, ye can understand me!” she gasped. “Please…might ye know of…of a girl, my little girl…well, she weren’t my child by blood, no. I never gave birth to her, but I did deliver her into this cruel world, I did.”

A glimmer of recognition lit the edges of Ashinji’s mind.

“She was…well, her sire was one of yer people. My girl had to run away. She ran north, t’ find her dad. P’raps you seen a half-breed girl up in yer country, lookin’ for her dad?”

Ashinji saw in his mind’s eye a memory of Jelena sitting on a couch, her legs tucked beneath her and a sweet bun in her hand. She spoke to him of her childhood, and the human woman who had raised and loved her.

“I do know of your girl, Claudia,” he answered.

“Ye know my name!” Claudia cried. Her hands flew to her face.

“Jelena has told me all about you.”

“Ye…y’ve seen my little girl? Oh, please tell me everything! I’ve missed her so much!” In the cool starlight, tears glittered on Claudia’s seamed cheeks.

“Jelena is well. She found a home and a family, and she thrives.”

Claudia reached through the slats of the wagon and groped for Ashinji’s hand. He took her work-roughened fingers in his and squeezed them reassuringly.

“How d’ye say yer name, kind sir?” Claudia asked.

“Ashinji,” he replied.

“Ash…een…gee,” Claudia drew out the syllables as if savoring the sound of the elven phonemes. “‘Tis a fine, grand name.”

“Jelena calls me ‘Ashi’, mostly.”

“How do ye know my little girl?” Claudia asked, still holding tight to Ashinji’s hand.

“We are husband and wife.”

Claudia drew in a sharp breath. “Ye be my baby’s man! Oh…What misfortune has brought ye here and separated ye from my Jelena?”

Ashinji could not bear to speak the whole truth-it hurt too much-so he related only the bare-bones facts of his ambush and capture, leaving out the stunning betrayal that had made it so much easier.

Claudia was weeping softly now. “My poor, poor baby…How will she ever bear it?”

Ashinji swallowed against the ache in his throat caused by his own grief. “When she is told that I am dead, she will be devastated,” he said. “But Jelena is strong. She has family now to shelter and support her. She also has our child to think about. She will survive.”

“Jelena is with child! My baby is goin’ to have her own baby,” Claudia whispered. “Oh, but what is to become of ye?”

“Marcus the slave trader is taking me south, to Darguinia. There, he will sell me and after that, I do not know.”

“‘Tis an evil thing, ‘tis!” Claudia raged. “After all my poor Jelena suffered, she finds a bit o’ happiness only to have it ripped away from her! If only there was somethin’ I could do…but I’m just an old woman.” She covered her face and Ashinji watched helplessly as her stooped shoulders shook with grief.

“Claudia… Jelena will survive. I know she will. Her love for our child will keep her strong. And if the One permits it, I will find a way to return to her… But there is one more thing I must tell you, Claudia.”

“What is it, dear Ash-ee?”

“Jelena found her father. He is the king of my people.”

Claudia gasped. “Praise all the gods,” she whispered. “My little baby is…a…a…”

“Hey, what’s going on over there!” Marcus called out.

“Quickly, Claudia! You must go now,” Ashinji said.

Once more, Claudia grabbed Ashinji’s hand and kissed it. “May the gods bless an’ keep ye, dear Ash-ee.”

She turned and scurried away across the yard, disappearing in the shadows just as Marcus returned to the wagon, a bowl and cup in his hands. “I thought I heard voices over here. Were you talking to someone?”

He set the bowl and cup down by Ashinji’s hand. The chain attached to his ankle rattled as he shifted position, reminding Ashinji of his new station. “Just an old woman from the castle, curious about what a tink looks like up close.” The pejorative left a foul taste in Ashinji’s mouth the moment it left his lips.

“Huh! Well, I suppose the riffraff ‘round here don’t get too much excitement. Anyway, there’s your dinner. I’m guessing your kind eat the same things as what we eat.” Marcus jumped off the wagon and Ashinji followed the sound of his boots as they retreated back toward where he and his men had set up their lean-to. He strained to make out the words of their desultory conversation, but they sat too far away. Eventually, he gave up and turned his attention to his food.

He raised the bowl to his nose and sniffed. The pleasant aroma of a meat stew provoked a growl from his stomach. Marcus had failed to provide him with a spoon, so awkwardly, he wedged the bowl between his knees and used his good hand to feed himself.

The cup contained sour, thin beer. He drained it in one gulp, and after sucking the gravy off his fingers, he wiped his hand on a corner of one of the blankets that made up his pallet. He then lay down on his back, wrapped himself up, and stared at the star-spattered sky overhead.

The blond bear-man came back later to collect the cup and bowl and to unchain Ashinji just long enough for him to relieve himself against the castle wall. After he had finished attending to the needs of his body, Marcus’ assistant re-secured him to the wagon for the night.