Leslie Moore - Griffin's Shadow

The shed held practice weapons only. The live steel always remained securely locked up when not in use, and only Mistress de Guera and Aruk-cho had direct access. Ashinji crossed to the far side of the small room where a number of blunted swords hung in racks against the wall. He removed one with a chipped blade and two with loose quillions and hoisted them all up on his shoulder.

His Talent saved him from immediate death…

…or perhaps it was his keen hearing, so much better than any human’s.

The sound of an exhalation, light as a feather, touched his ear.

A shiver of dread rippled down his spine. He knew he needed to dodge now!

The first blow caught him just below the right armpit, slicing across his ribcage and laying open skin and muscle in a long, gory tear.

Ashinji threw himself backward and to the side in a desperate attempt to avoid the killing stroke he knew would follow. His attacker’s face remained hidden in shadow, but the malignant energy that emanated from the man like a poisonous fog proclaimed his identity.

No longer a matter of insults and petty harassment, Ashinji knew only one of them would walk away from this battle alive.

Ashinji aimed a swift kick at Leal’s midsection. With a sharp grunt of surprise, the human doubled over, clutching his abdomen. Ashinji scrambled to his feet, teeth gritted against the pain, and made a dash for the door, but Leal recovered too quickly and blocked his escape.

In the open, where quickness and agility gave him the edge, Ashinji could beat Leal in hand to hand combat, despite the human’s superior size and strength. In the cramped space of the weapons shed, he lost all advantage.

With a roar, Leal hurled himself forward, bearing Ashinji down to the ground in a fierce crash of falling weaponry. Ashinji struggled hard to twist free, but Leal held him fast, face down.

“I’ve got you now, tink! ” the big man snarled, his breath hot and foul across the side of Ashinji’s face. “Did you think I’d let it go, you gettin’ me busted? Damn you! I lost a whole year’s standing ‘cuz of you! You an’ that punk kid!”

Ashinji felt light-headed from pain and Leal’s crushing weight atop his back, restricting his breathing.

“Let me up now, and I won’t kill you later, human,” he gasped. He knew his words would do no good, but anger and fear made him reckless.

“Fuck…you!” Leal muttered and plunged his knife deep into Ashinji’s lower back.

A shockwave of agony rolled through Ashinji’s body, convulsing him and cutting the lines mooring his consciousness to his flesh.

His spirit floated free and drifted upward until it came to rest on the ceiling of the weapons shed. From his new vantage point, Ashinji watched with calm interest what happened next.

Voices, raised in alarm, drifted through the open shed door. Leal heaved himself off Ashinji’s limp form and spun around, knife dripping blood, clearly searching for a place to hide. He flung the blade from him and it skittered into a corner, sliding beneath a pile of broken harness. He glanced down at Ashinji’s body, as if satisfying himself he’d made the kill, then bolted from the shed.

Ashinji knew he hovered near death, as close as he had ever come. Even when he had lain sick with fever from the arrow wound in his shoulder back in Thessalina’s war camp-an entire lifetime ago, it seemed-his spirit had never left his body the way it had now.

This is a peculiar feeling , he thought, as he watched his blood pool around his sprawled body. He heard a voice screaming his name.

Seijon reached him first. The boy fell to his knees, crying hysterically. Next came Magnes. The look of horror on his friend’s face shook him. The drumbeat of hooves upon the sand heralded the arrival of Aruk-cho. The akuta pushed his way in, forcing both Magnes and Seijon to scramble back to avoid getting trampled. Without a word, the yardmaster leaned down and scooped Ashinji’s body into his arms and backed out of the confines of the shed.

“Take him to the infirmary!” Magnes shouted.

“Wait!” Gran cried out, rushing up and laying a hand on his forehead. She closed her eyes.

He felt like a giant hand had reached out to seize him, and now yanked him back toward the cold, bloodstained bag of flesh his body had become. He resisted at first, not wishing to be thrust back where there would be so much pain, but the memory of Jelena’s gentle kisses persuaded him.

He slammed back into his body and awoke, screaming.

Ashinji wailed, then lapsed into semi-consciousness. Gran staggered back, her face the color of milk.

“Quickly now, Aruk-cho! We’ve got no time to waste!” Magnes shouted. “Seijon, run and fetch Mistress de Guera!”

He raced off, the akuta trotting along at his side, Gran trailing a few steps behind. When they reached the infirmary, Aruk-cho gently laid Ashinji face down on a padded table at the back of the room. Wielding a small, sharp knife, Magnes carefully cut away Ashinji’s tunic to reveal two stab wounds-one a long, shallow cut across his ribcage, and another wound in his lower back. The second injury was by far the more serious-a deep, ragged hole that oozed blood in sluggish gouts.

“I need something…a cloth or rag, to put pressure on this!” Magnes called out.

“Take this, healer.” Aruk-cho thrust a wadded piece of linen into his outstretched hand, which he then pressed over the wound. Ashinji flinched and groaned. His eyes fluttered open and, for a few heartbeats, he gazed directly at Magnes, as if begging for release. Then, with a sigh, his lids drooped and he fell into a swoon.

Gods…Ashi!

A rush of powerful emotion-confusing, unsettling feelings he’d thought conquered and safely buried-surged through Magnes then, taking him completely by surprise. The sight of his friend’s beautiful green eyes awash in tears of suffering filled him with agony of an entirely different kind.

Ashi! You can’t die… I don’t know what I’d do!

“He’s in here, Mistress!”

Magnes looked up to see Seijon rushing into the infirmary, followed closely by Mistress de Guera. She pushed past Aruk-cho to gaze down at Ashinji lying on the table. “How bad is he?” she asked, her voice clipped and business-like, but her eyes betrayed her genuine feelings.

“Very bad, Mistress,” Magnes replied. Wrestling his own fear into temporary submission, he added, “He’s sustained a deep stab wound. I’m trying to slow the bleeding so I can assess what needs to be done to repair it.”

“Gods,” Mistress de Guera whispered. She turned to Aruk-cho. “I want the man who did this. Find him!” she snapped.

“I know who hurt Ashi,” Seijon spoke up, his face puffy and red from crying.

“Who did this, boy?” Aruk-cho rumbled.

“That asshole Leal! I saw him attack Ashi. I ran to get help, but I was too late!” His face crumpled and he began sobbing once more.

Magnes caught the look that passed between Aruk-cho and his mistress.

“I’ll return as soon as I can,” the akuta promised, then he and Mistress de Guera departed. Magnes turned his attention back to the problem at hand.

How will I save the life of my friend?

“Gran, I know you have abilities…Talent, as your people call it…that are especially powerful,” Magnes said. “You used it just now to bring Ashinji back from the dead, didn’t you?”

Gran had never looked truly old to him until now. “No. I didn’t bring Ashi back from the dead,” she replied. “Not even I am that powerful!” She shook her head. “His spirit had floated free of his body, yes, but the cord that binds the spirit to flesh had not yet broken. All I did was pull his spirit back into his body.”