Leslie Moore: Griffin's Destiny

Magnes gaped in surprise as the woman’s eyes grew as round as saucers. Her fat lips stretched wide to scream, but instead, she gurgled, then went rigid.

It’s like she’s turned to stone , Magnes thought. No, more like wax.

“What did you do to her?” he demanded, rounding on Gran.

“We’ve run out of time!” The old mage grabbed his arm and pulled. “Ashi just mindspoke to me. The slave catchers are on our heels. We’ve got to run!”

Magnes’ heart leapt into his throat. “But…but how did they manage to catch up to us so fast?” he gasped.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Come on!” She led the way out of the cottage and back up the slippery path to the road. Magnes paused for a heartbeat to look back at the house.

“Don’t worry about her,” Gran snapped. “The spell is temporary.”

Magnes turned and followed Gran’s fleeing figure toward the laurel grove where Ashinji and Seijon waited. They found the two mounted and ready to ride.

“I scouted back to that little rise in the road,” Ashinji said, pointing over his shoulder. “I spotted the posse. I think they may have seen me.” Seijon clung with arms locked around Ashinji’s waist, his face drained of all color. The big chestnut pirouetted beneath them, sensing his riders’ agitation. Magnes waited until Gran had scrambled aboard her mare before climbing onto the piebald’s sharp back. Even before he drummed his heels into the horse’s sides, the animal sprang forward, chasing after its fellows.

We’ll never outrun them! Magnes thought, mind reeling in desperation. He began searching the terrain for a place where they might make a stand, but even as he did, he knew in his heart it would be futile, unless…

Unless Gran uses her magic. It’s our only hope!

He urged his horse alongside hers. “We can’t run anymore!” he shouted. “Gran, you’ve got to stop them!” She glanced at him for just an instant, but Magnes saw consensus in her pale eyes. He also saw something else-resignation.

Ashinji, who rode in the lead, pointed ahead to a hill topped by a crown of oaks. They made for it, their tired mounts laboring up the slope. At the top, the horses stumbled to a halt, sides heaving. Magnes slid to the ground and ran to the edge of the grove to look back the way they had come. He spotted the posse, riding hard, heading straight for their position.

“So, this is what it’s come to,” Ashinji said. He had moved to stand beside Magnes and now gazed pensively at the approaching horsemen.

Magnes glanced at his friend. Ashinji’s hair had come undone, and now hung in a rumpled gold cascade across his shoulders and back. Rivulets of sweat cut tracks through the grime on his skin, and the fresh scars from the wounds that had nearly killed him traced angry red trails down his bare flank.

Even in such a disheveled state, Ashinji’s beauty remained undimmed.

Magnes well understood Armina de Guera’s determination to get back her most prized possession. He shivered, beset by a rush of powerful emotion, his body reacting of its own accord to feelings he dared not confront. To do so would only court disaster.

Magnes could never betray Jelena or jeopardize his friendship with Ashinji in order to make sense of his tangled desires. Some lines could never be crossed.

He shook himself and refocused on the present danger.

“Do you know what Gran is going to do?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at the old mage who now stood immobile in the center of the grove, eyes closed, arms hanging loosely by her sides.

Ashinji shrugged. “I’m not sure, but whatever it is, it will drain her. She’ll be incapacitated, perhaps for several days. If we manage to escape, we’ll have to find somewhere to go to ground because she won’t be able to travel.”

“I’m going to look for something to use as a weapon,” Magnes said. It felt like a useless gesture, but he had to do something.

Ashinji put out a hand to stop him. “Magnes, promise you won’t do something foolish to save me. Concentrate on protecting Seijon and getting him away. Armina de Guera won’t pay those men for a corpse, so they’re going to do everything in their power to capture me alive. Seijon is worthless to them, and Gran is condemned for aiding my escape, as are you. If I have to, I’ll surrender to give you three a chance to escape.” Ashinji spoke without a trace of fear or indecision.

“Ashi, I promised I wouldn’t let you be taken and I intend to honor that,” Magnes insisted. “Please don’t make me say otherwise.”

Ashinji sighed, and looked at his feet, then lifted his eyes to meet Magnes’. “You and my wife are a lot alike,” he said softly. “You can both be downright pig-headed when you’ve a mind to.”

Magnes chuckled. “When you see my cousin again, you can tell her that.”

The two young men watched in silence as the posse fanned out to surround the hill, though they made no move to close in; instead, the riders drew rein and waited. After a few moments, a man on a white mule urged his mount forward, cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Come on down, tink! You can’t run anymore. You come quietly and we’ll let the others go.”

Ashinji bared his teeth. “They must think we’re stupid,” he muttered.

Magnes flicked the man a rude gesture with his finger.

Without warning, the ground at the base of the hill exploded.

The hill lurched violently, throwing Ashinji and Magnes to their knees. Acorns rained on their heads as dust billowed in a choking cloud. Screams of terror rent the air. Coughing, eyes tearing, Ashinji crawled to the edge of the grove and stared in disbelief at the scene below.

Tree roots, flailing like the tentacles of a maddened sea creature, had burst from the earth to attack the slave-catchers.

Ashinji watched in horrified fascination as a root the thickness of a man’s arm whipped around the posse leader’s neck and ripped him from his plunging mule. The man struggled and tore at the unrelenting wood, his bulging eyes wild with terror. His face flushed purple before turning gray as his kicks and twists became weaker. Finally, he dangled like a broken puppet, his tongue protruding grotesquely from his mouth.

A second, then a third man each met the same fate.

The others did not wait to witness the final death throes of their comrades. Even as the three victims swung above their heads, they wheeled their panicked horses and fled. None of them looked back.

Dizzy with shock, Ashinji backed away from the slope and rose on shaky legs.

“Goddess,” he whispered through dry lips.

“Ashi! There’s more coming up the back!” Magnes shouted.

Too late, Ashinji remembered the posse had split up to surround them.

He whirled in time to see three men charge into the grove from the far side of the hill, swords raised. They ran straight for Gran, who remained locked in a trance, unable to move.

Gran! Ashinji cried out in mindspeech, but she did not respond. Magnes pelted forward to intercept them, Seijon hard on his heels.

“Seijon, no!” Ashinji screamed. He flung himself after the boy, straining to catch him but even as he did so, he knew he would fail.

Magnes reached the men first, barreling into them like a charging bull, knocking one man flat and sending the second one stumbling to his knees. He pinned the fallen man and started pummeling his face with his fists. The third man twisted aside and lunged for Gran.

Seijon, brandishing a tree branch, leapt in his path just as the slaver’s sword swept around in a glittering arc. The blade sliced through the wood and cut across the boy’s body, sending a spray of blood into the air.