Leslie Moore - Griffin's Shadow

Jelena sat up and looked around, clearly puzzled.

“How did I end up on the ground?” she asked to no one in particular. Her gaze alighted on Sonoe and she yelped in alarm. “Sonoe, are you all right? Your horse fell!”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Just a little cut on my cheek is all. I must have fallen on a rock. Help me up,” she commanded, holding her hands out to the guards. “It’s not like Susei to be clumsy.” She walked over to where the bay stood, tail swishing.

“He’s got a scraped knee,” the younger guard commented. “Must have stepped in a pothole or something.” He began scanning the roadbed as the other guard helped Jelena to her feet.

“You should let me wash that cut for you,” Jelena said, coming up behind Sonoe.

Sonoe turned to face Jelena and forced a smile. “Thank you, pet,” she said. She stood still while Jelena ministered to her, all the while seething with anger.

You’ll be the slave, and I shall be your mistress! You think you rule me now, but what you don’t know is that I possess the tool which will give me complete power over you! All I have to do is speak the word when the time is right!

She had stumbled across it quite by accident. While digging through a chest of old scrolls she had found in the dustiest, dimmest corner of the library storeroom, her hand had encountered a tiny book.

Its leather binding was crumbling with age and the ink upon the parchment pages had faded almost to illegibility, but she’d instantly recognized the hand of Master Iku Azarasha himself. How the book had survived so long, she couldn’t fathom. She had taken the book, realizing she’d discovered a treasure of immense value.

She had worked in secret for many days, and after much effort, she managed to raise the faded ink enough to read the contents of the book. What she read astounded her.

The little book turned out to be a personal account of the last battle between the sorcerer king Onjara and his daughter and successor, Queen Syukoe. It also described the Ritual of Sundering that broke the king’s power and sent him down to defeat and undeath. Master Iku had meticulously recorded everything about those events, including the names of everyone who had taken part.

Sonoe had unwittingly found the only weapon she would need to subjugate the ancient spirit.

His true name.

Mistress de Guera! Always a pleasure to see you!”

Marcus placed his clasped hands to his heart and bowed his head in greeting as a woman and three men approached.

“Marcus. I got your message, and I was intrigued. Where is this extraordinary merchandise you wish to show me?”

“He is right over there, Mistress, sitting against that post… Ashinji! On your feet, now!”

Upon hearing his name, Ashinji looked to where Marcus and the woman stood waiting, but couldn’t bring himself to move. The trauma of his situation had momentarily paralyzed him.

“You heard the boss!” snarled Lacus. He aimed a kick at Ashinji’s ribs, but a sharp word from Marcus halted his foot in mid-swing. Slowly, Ashinji climbed to his feet. He moved to stand before Marcus and the woman, pushing tendrils of wet hair out of his face with his shackled hands.

The woman gasped and her eyes widened. “Is this…is he…?”

Marcus bobbed his head. “Yes! He is, indeed, Mistress.”

“But…however did you get him?”

“I bought him in Amsara from the duke’s daughter. She’s leading a small campaign against the local elven warlord. This one was captured in battle by some of her soldiers.”

“He’s beautiful,” she breathed.

Ashinji studied the woman closely while she and Marcus discussed him as they would a stallion or bull. She still possessed much of her youthful vigor, even though the lines at the corners of her dark eyes betrayed her maturity. Her lustrous black hair framed her face in a complicated coiffure; her fine clothes and jewelry spoke of her wealth and position. The three men-two flanking her and one at her back-wore plain but well-made clothing. Ashinji guessed they were high-ranking servants in the lady’s household.

“He says he’s noble born, the son of one of their lords,” Marcus continued. “He speaks excellent Soldaran.”

The lady looked impressed. “Is this true? Do you speak our language?” she addressed Ashinji, then cocked her head to one side and provided the answer to her own question. “Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes. What is your name?”

“Ashinji Sakehera…Mistress,” Ashinji replied softly.

“Ashinji,” the lady said, rolling his name on her tongue as if savoring a sweetmeat. “The sound of it is so…so like you,” she added. “Exotic and sensual.” Her dark eyes smoldered.

“He’s young, fit, and a trained warrior, Mistress. He will do well for you, however you choose to use him,” Marcus said. “Do you want to see him stripped?” The lady nodded in affirmation.

Ashinji’s gut churned. Wild thoughts of escape flashed through his head, but in his heart, he knew them to be futile. He remembered the human girl, bound and naked on the auction block. Asa the blond bear came forward, hands grasping, but Ashinji fended him off.

“I’ll do it myself,” he growled and awkwardly wriggled out of his tunic. He raised his chin in defiance as Mistress de Guera’s eyes took in his naked body from head to toe. Her gaze lingered for several heartbeats below his waist then swept up to pause at his left shoulder.

She raised a perfectly manicured finger and pointed. “Is that a new scar I see there on his shoulder?” she inquired.

“Uh, yes, Mistress, it is,” Marcus answered. “He was shot during his capture. I first saw him right after the camp surgeon had cut the arrow out of him. He was in bad shape, but I gladly took on the task of nursing him back to health.” Marcus smiled broadly. “As you can see, the wound healed beautifully, and he’s fully recovered.”

“So it seems.” Mistress de Guera’s tongue darted over her lips. “You may cover yourself…Ashinji.” Ashinji felt a wave of relief as he pulled the rough tunic back down over his body. He had experienced humiliation in the past at the hands of his brother, but Sadaiyo’s worst could not compare to what he had just endured. He struggled to hold his head up, though his cheeks burned with shame and fury.

“As I’ve said, Ashinji, here, is a trained fighter. He’d be an excellent draw as a gladiator,” Marcus pointed out.

“Yes, he would. The people are always hungry for the exotic, the novel. Aruk-cho is still one of my biggest money-makers. The crowds turn out in droves to see him whenever he appears. A pureblooded elf is something no one has yet seen in the Grand Arena.” Mistress de Guera stepped forward, and before Ashinji could dodge or pull away, she seized his head between her hands and stared straight into his eyes. He froze.

“Perhaps I have another use in mind for him,” she murmured. A little piece of Ashinji’s mind, detached from all the horror, noted that he and the lady stood at the same height. A fragment of memory flashed across his mind’s eye- one of the many moments when he had been this close to Jelena, preparing to savor the taste and feel of her warm, soft mouth. Unbidden tears welled in his eyes.

Mistress de Guera held him thus for what seemed like an eternity. The scent of roses swirled around them.

“There is such sadness in you, Ashinji,” she said.

“Do you wonder why, Mistress?” he replied in a ragged voice.

She shook her head. “No, of course not.” She trailed a finger across his lips and stepped back. “Name your price, Marcus.”

“I couldn’t part with him for less than two hundred imperials, Mistress,” Marcus replied, rubbing his palms together.