Leslie Moore - Griffin's Daughter

Needing no prompting, Syukoe shoved the unconscious human back through the portal where she lay sprawled in the wet grass, her unruly mane of dark curls spread about her head like a tangled bush. She moaned softly as the rain pattered down upon her upturned face.

“ Ai, get back, Princess!” she heard Master Iku shout. Syukoe barely got her arms out of the way in time as the portal slammed shut with a blast of air and a noise like a thunderclap. The air within the chamber shimmered, superheated now to the point of combustion. The Kirians had clearly reached their limits of endurance. Hair and clothing began to smoke, just moments away from igniting.

“ Get down behind me, Princess,” Master Iku gasped. He raised his hands towards the ceiling. Syukoe did as the Master bade, curling herself into a tight ball and covering her head. She began to pray to The One for deliverance and an end to all of their suffering. She prayed for her father’s soul, that it be washed clean of the foulness and corruption that had warped it into something so unspeakably evil.

The Key lay safely in the future now, locked away from Shiura Onjara, hidden in the body of a half-elven child. Syukoe prayed for the Goddess’s protection for that child, for as a half-blood, its life would surely be a difficult one, filled with hardship and uncertainty. What was to become of the Key, no one, not even the great and powerful Kirian Society, had been able to divine.

“ Kirians! To me!” shouted Master Iku. Twin bolts of blue-white energy exploded from his fingertips. The resulting blast hammered Syukoe’s senses into tatters. She tumbled down into darkness and knew no more.

In a dusty chamber high atop a semi-abandoned tower, a midwife delivered a baby from its dying mother’s body. She cut the cord and wrapped the newborn girl-wrinkled, red, and capped with a thin shock of dark curls-in an old wool blanket. The old woman who had struggled to save both mother and child held the baby close, tears running in rivulets down her lined cheeks. She had failed.

“ My poor, Dru…my poor little Dru!” the woman sobbed quietly.

The dying woman-barely out of girlhood, really-stirred and cried out weakly. “My baby… Where is my baby?”

“ Here’s yer sweet little babe, my lamb… a beautiful little girl,” the old woman crooned, laying the whimpering infant next to her mother. Weakened from blood loss, the new mother could do little but gaze at her child. It would have been clear to anyone witnessing the sad tableau that her love burned fierce and hot for the daughter she would never know beyond these last few moments of her life.

“ Claudia,” the young woman whispered.

“ Yes, my lamb,” the old woman answered.

“ I want to name her Jelena…I’ve always loved that name.”

“ Jelena…Weren’t that a name of an ancient queen? From one o’ those old stories you an’ yer brother loved so much?”

The dying girl nodded weakly. “Promise you’ll look after her, Claudia, because no one else will. Promise you’ll not let them hurt her because…because of what she is.”

“ I promise,” Claudia sobbed.

“ Promise…you…you’ll keep the ring…safe until…” The girl’s voice trailed off and her eyes fluttered closed.

“ Dru?…Drucilla?” Claudia leaned close and peered into the girl’s waxen face. She could already feel the cold presence of Lady Death, come to gather her precious Drucilla up into her cloak of blackest velvet and carry her away on silent wings to Heaven.

Drucilla stirred and opened her eyes, but they focused now on something beyond the living world.

“ I swear I’ll keep th’ ring what belonged to yer baby’s dad, and give it to her when she’s ready fer it.” Claudia kissed Drucilla’s cold forehead. “Rest now, my lamb. Go to sleep,” she murmured. Gathering the baby up into her arms, she sat in the room’s only chair to wait.

She did not have to wait long, and when it was over, she placed the baby in an old laundry basket and set about the task of preparing the young mother for her grave.

When she had finished, she gathered up all of the soiled linen and picked up the newborn in her basket. She took one last look at the shrouded form upon the bed, then exited the room, pulling the heavy oak door closed behind her. She negotiated the narrow tower stairs with caution, fearful that one misstep could send her and the baby tumbling to serious injury or worse.

At the bottom, Claudia breathed a sigh of relief. So many things to take care of now , she thought. The duke must be told, and a wet nurse found for the child. She recalled a kitchen maid who had just lost a baby not more than three days ago. P’rhaps she can be persuaded. She set the laundry basket down and rubbed the small of her back in an attempt to ease the pain that plagued her. The baby began to wail.

“ Oh, poor little lamb! Yer hungry, o’course, and with no mam t’feed ye,” she said. “Well, let’s get a move on, then. C’mon Claudia, old girl. You’ve got work t’do!” She hoisted up her burdens and headed for the castle kitchens.

Later that evening, Claudia lay in bed, the sleeping baby tucked in a makeshift cradle alongside. The duke, not surprisingly, had expressed no desire to have anything to do with the child, commanding Claudia to take it away and keep it with her, in the servants’ hall. Claudia was only too happy to obey. The kitchen maid who had lost her own baby balked at first but eventually allowed herself to be persuaded by the ten copper a week fee-double the usual charge-that Claudia agreed to pay her. Claudia could have used that extra money for other things, but she had no alternative.

She gazed down at the baby, sleeping peacefully on a full stomach. On impulse, she got up and went to open the wooden chest at the foot of her bed. She reached in and removed Drucilla’s ring from its hiding place at the very bottom. She held the ring up to catch the light of the room’s single oil lamp and examined it thoughtfully for a while before returning it to the bottom of the chest.

The baby awoke and began to fuss. Claudia scooped the infant up and cradled her against her large, soft breasts. Instinctively, the child began to suck.

“ You’ll get nothin’ from these old tits, little one,” she said, rocking the baby gently back and forth. She traced the shape of one tiny, pointed ear with a fingertip. A sudden, fierce determination swept through her. “I promised yer mam I’d protect you from folks’ abusin’ you ‘cause of what you are, and by the gods, I’m going t’ do my best. And when yer old enough, I’ll give you yer dad’s ring and maybe, just maybe, you can find him.”

Claudia kissed the baby’s forehead and rocked her until she drifted off to sleep again.

The day started much like every other for Jelena. Emerging reluctantly from her cozy nest of rough woolen blankets, the young woman shivered as her bare feet touched the old rag rug lying on the flagstone floor beside her cot. Spring was in the air, but apparently, the stones of Amsara Castle hadn’t gotten the news yet. Dawn’s first flush had just begun to lighten the indigo sky. The day would be warm and dry, perfect for a festival.

A few live coals left over from last night still smoldered in the grate. With a handful of kindling and a chunk of fresh wood, Jelena soon had a small fire cheerfully burning. She hunkered down in front of the grate and held her hands to the flames, sighing with pleasure. The brutal cold of winter had begun to ease during the last few weeks, but nights and mornings remained chilly. From behind her, Jelena could hear old Claudia snoring softly. From experience, she knew Claudia’s uncannily accurate internal time sense always roused her foster mother at the same hour each morning.