Leslie Moore - Griffin's Shadow

How is it that Fadili and I are not unconscious? Magnes wondered as he reached down to help the trembling apprentice to his feet.

“Are you hurt?” he whispered, but Fadili could only shake his head, still too overcome with fear to speak. Magnes glanced at the fallen men, then looked at Gran.

“Are they dead?” he asked uneasily.

“Shouldn’t be, but we don’t have time to worry about them!” Gran snapped. “Someone inside’s bound to have felt the explosion and will be out to investigate. We’ve got to leave now!”

Quickly, they all climbed aboard the wagon. Fadili and Magnes positioned themselves on the front seat while Gran wedged herself in among the shambles at the rear of the wagon’s interior. Magnes waited until he heard the secret panel in the wagon’s underside slam shut before he picked up the reins. He shook them, and the horse leaned into the harness. The infirmary rolled forward, and Magnes turned the animal’s head toward the gate. He tried not to think of Corvin and his men lying on the sand, or of the consequences they would suffer because of tonight’s escape.

“Aruk-cho has opened the gate,” Gran called out. “Drive straight through without stopping,” she ordered. The wagon’s wheels glided easily over the sand. The black maw of the gate loomed ahead, and from behind, Magnes could hear voices raised in alarm.

Despite Gran’s order and his own fear, Magnes had no intention of leaving without a final word to Aruk-cho. He reined in the horse just inside the gate.

“Go! Go!” hissed Gran, but Magnes ignored her.

“Aruk-cho!” he called out softly.

The akuta stepped from the shadows, his massive body a darker shape against the black of the night.

“You must leave now, healer, or else all will be lost.” The akuta’s voice, like gravel swathed in velvet, sounded calm.

“I couldn’t leave without saying farewell to you, Yardmaster. I hope that someday, we will have the good fortune to meet again.” Magnes looked down as he heard the soft snick of the secret panel opening beneath the wagon.

“As do I.” Ashinji’s voice floated out of the dark below and Magnes could just make out his form standing by the front driver’s side wheel. “I am in your debt, Brother,” he added, “and if the One decrees it, then I shall some day have the chance to repay you.”

“You owe me nothing, Little Brother,” Aruk-cho replied. “Na’a chitatle ko.”

“And to you, my friend,” Ashinji said.

“Ashi, get up here!” Gran ordered. “We’ve run out of time, now go, go!”

Magnes slapped the horse’s rump with the reins and the wagon lurched forward as Ashinji, with Fadili’s help, swung up to the front seat, then scrambled back into the interior of the wagon. The horse broke into a lumbering trot as the wagon bumped and lurched over the uneven paving stones of the alley.

Magnes could not look back to see if Aruk-cho had managed to close the gate in time to avoid discovery, but he had confidence in the yardmaster’s ability to take care of himself. Aruk-cho would give them the head start they needed.

Magnes concentrated on steering the wagon through the maze of alleys that laced the environs of the Grand Arena, heading for the main ring road that encircled the entire complex. Once he had gotten clear of the arena district, he planned to take the most direct route out of the city.

He halted the infirmary on a side street just south of the main entrance to the Grand Arena to allow Ashinji to rejoin Seijon in the secret compartment. The clouds above spat fat droplets of water onto the land below. The wagon rolled through the rain-slick streets, passing shuttered shops, houses with windows aglow, and taverns with half-opened doors through which raucous laughter and snatches of song spilled out into the night.

Occasionally, a person on foot would emerge from the darkness ahead and hurry past to vanish into the mist behind. Otherwise, the streets were deserted. Magnes strained his ears for sounds of pursuit, but he heard none, and Gran, with her superior hearing and magical senses, had warned of nothing so far.

As they approached the outermost districts of the city, Magnes had to fight the urge to whip the horse into a gallop, knowing a wagon barreling through the streets late at night would almost certainly attract the attention of the constabulary. So far, they had passed several guard posts, unchallenged. The wet weather kept the city guards indoors, as Magnes had hoped.

No one had spoken since leaving the de Guera yard. Each of them remained wrapped in a cocoon of darkness and quiet, alone with his or her own thoughts. Magnes’ heart ached at the memory of cheerful, gentle Fadili screaming in terror as a guard had pressed a sword to his throat. He felt saddened by the possibility that the young apprentice healer might be forever changed by the trauma he had suffered at the hands of Armina de Guera’s guardsmen.

The hours passed and gradually, the slums of the outer districts gave way to suburban estates and then to open countryside. The rain slacked off, and overhead, the pale face of a three-quarter moon appeared amid shredded, racing clouds.

Gran finally broke the silence.

“Pull over to the side,” she said. Magnes did as instructed, pulling steadily on the reins until the wagon slowed to a stop. He set the hand brake, then turned to face Gran. She pushed past him and before he could ask if she needed any help, she had swung down off the wagon to the road.

Not for the first time, Magnes found himself surprised by the old elf woman’s vigor. She moved a few paces down the road and stood perfectly still, staring toward the city. In the moon’s cold light, her hair shimmered like silver-washed bone. It had come loose during the altercation at the yard and now hung down her back past her waist. Her slim body and flowing hair transformed her figure into the semblance of a young girl, yet an aura of immense power crackled about her like a mantle of lightning.

She turned in a slow circle, as if scanning the four directions, then walked quickly back to the wagon.

“I sense no pursuit, but there’s a large group of people just ahead,” she said. “I can’t tell who or what they are. They could be soldiers or a caravan of traders.”

Fadili fidgeted beside Magnes and for the first time in many hours, he spoke. “Perhaps we should wait here until sunrise.”

“Perhaps we should,” Magnes agreed. He climbed down and ducked underneath the wagon to rap on the undercarriage. The secret panel slid open and Seijon’s head popped out.

“What’s happening?” he asked breathlessly.

“We’ve decided to wait here until morning,” Magnes explained. “There’s a big group of people on the road just ahead and we don’t want to risk an encounter.”

Seijon slithered out of the hole to the muddy road. Ashinji emerged a few moments later, moving slowly, his hand pressed to his lower back.

“If we’re careful, we should be able to stay behind them,” Gran said. She laid a hand on Ashinji’s arm and spoke a few soft words in Siri-dar. Ashinji nodded and allowed Gran to take his head between her hands. She closed her eyes and a few moments later, Ashinji’s eyes fluttered closed as well. They remained thus for the space of several heartbeats, then Gran’s eyes opened and her hands fell away.

Ashinji sighed deeply. “Shiha, ” he whispered, which Magnes recognized as the Siri-dar word for “thanks.” It seemed to him that his friend’s pain had been eased.

Ashinji turned to face Magnes. “We need to take the shortest route north-preferably northwest-but there’s the problem of the Soldaran Army blocking our way.”

“Yes, and traveling by the main roads is risky, even though it is faster,” Magnes replied. “I think our only choice is to head northeast, toward Amsara. I know a less traveled route and there is a small road-a path really-that veers off the main road just south of the Amsara border and heads west. It bypasses the castle by a few leagues and ends up at the southern edge of the Eanon Swamp. You’ll have to skirt the swamp, unless you know a way through…”