Leslie Moore - Griffin's Destiny

“Be silent!” Raidan barked. He glared at his son. “At this moment, I can barely stand to look at you, much less listen to any opinions you might have.” Raidu’s lips twisted into a petulant bow and for an instant, Raidan thought his son might actually defy him, but the younger prince evidently thought better of it and held his tongue.

Before Raidan could speak again, Lady Odata strode into the pavilion. “I came as soon as I heard, your Highness. Where is the prisoner?” Odata wore a look of high expectation on her face but she stopped short in obvious confusion when she saw the grim expressions confronting her. “What is it? What has happened?” She looked first at Raidan, then at Sen.

“The prisoner is dead,” Sen replied.

“What? How?” Odata exclaimed in dismay.

“It doesn’t matter,” Raidan stated. “He didn’t know anything useful.” Odata glanced at the blood on the mats and her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t press the issue.

“I’m glad you’re here now, Odata. I need to speak with you.” Raidan took a deep breath and forced himself to sit. With that simple act, he banished enough tension in the room to allow everyone else to relax.

“Guardsmen and scouts, you are all dismissed,” the prince ordered. “Mages as well. Lady Sonoe, you and your second, please stay.” He waited until all the guards, the two scouts, and the rest of the mages had filed out before he spoke again. “Tell me about my brother.”

“He died in my arms,” Sonoe answered in a rough whisper. “In the end, he was at peace and in no pain. I saw to that myself.”

“Thank you,” Raidan tried to say, but a strange lassitude had begun to creep over him, turning his body into an unwieldy sack of stones and his mind into treacle. Sonoe’s eyes expanded before his sight, merging into a single, whirling jade pool. He felt it sucking him down, and he struggled to break free. Just as he thought he might be pulled in, he was released.

“Ai, Goddess!” he gasped. “What just happened?” He shook his head and pressed a palm to his brow.

“What do you mean, my lord? Is something wrong?” Sonoe murmured.

“Did you try to scan me just now?” Raidan regarded the sorceress with growing suspicion.

Sonoe’s face lost all color. “No, your, Highness!” she replied, bowing her head. “I would never presume to enter your mind without your permission. I apologize if my own grief somehow disturbed you. The king’s death has affected me very deeply.” Her beautiful mouth trembled.

A sharp pang of remorse stung Raidan’s already aching heart. “Of course. Of course it has. I know how you felt about my brother, Sonoe,” he said softly, “and your love and loyalty won’t go unrewarded.”

“I don’t want any reward, your Highness. All I want is to have my soulmate back, but that’s not possible.” She turned her face away, but not before the prince glimpsed the sparkle of tears on her cheeks.

“The other lords must be informed of the king’s death, Raidan,” Sen said in a low voice.

Raidan raised his hand and Mai Nohe materialized at his shoulder. “See to it that runners are sent to all the other lords. I want them here right away,” he ordered.

“Yes, my lord Prince,” Mai answered and strode out of the tent.

Sen crouched by Raidan’s stool and murmured, too softly for anyone else to hear, “Raidan, you are king of Alasiri now.”

Raidan sighed. Ever since the day when Keizo had ascended the throne and had named him Heir, the prince had prepared for this moment, but now that it had come, he felt nothing but sorrow and desolation.

This is not how I wanted to be made king!

“Yes, I realize that.” he replied aloud. “All too well.”

Raidan rose from his stool and looked around the room. Sen remained kneeling, and the prince saw that everyone else in the pavilion had knelt as well, including Raidu, who for once seemed beyond insolence.

“Please, all of you, get up,” he commanded wearily. “News of my brother’s death must not leave this tent.”

“But why, your Majesty?” Sen exclaimed as he hauled himself to his feet. “The other lords and the army have a right to know!”

“The army, as do the rest of the elven people, love Keizo with a fervor they have yet to feel for me. No, old friend,” Raidan held up a hand to silence Sen’s protest. “Please don’t patronize me. I’m far too sensible to delude myself on that account. The troops need their unconditional love for my brother. It’s what’s sustaining their courage. If they learn of his death, it will break their hearts and take away the edge we need to win this fight.”

Sen nodded in reluctant agreement. “Perhaps, you’re right, but I think you’re selling yourself short, Majesty.”

“Please, remember…all of you must still think of me as I was, not as who I will become if, when , we drive out the Soldarans,” Raidan admonished.

A heartbeat later, Mai Nohe returned. “My lord Prince, the other lords are on their way,” he announced.

“Good,” Raidan said. “All of you…pour yourselves more wine and get comfortable. We have a long night ahead of us.”

The rest of the lords agreed that Sen Sakehera, as Raidan’s most experienced commander, should lead the force that would first engage the enemy and hold them at the pass.

Sen rode out well before dawn, his son Sadaiyo beside him, at the head of a force just over eight hundred strong-large enough to be an effective barrier for a time, yet small enough to, hopefully, fool the Soldarans into believing they would have little trouble taking back the valley. With Sakehera in place, the plan would be set and the elves as ready as they could possibly be.

Raidan witnessed Sen’s departure from atop the battlements of Tono Castle, an agitated Odata at his side. From the heights, the army looked like a slim column of ants marching out across the valley floor. The valley itself lay empty as part of the deception. The bulk of the elven forces were in place, positioned among the rocky crags that ringed the valley like dragon’s teeth.

Behind the fortress-hidden by its sturdy walls-awaited the cream of Alasiri’s army. These units were composed of the toughest, most seasoned warriors, men and women who’d been battle-tested through years of border defense on the eastern and northern frontiers.

One hundred and fifty years of peace with the Soldarans had not meant any respite for Alasiri’s armed forces. In the east, they battled nomadic tribes from the windy steppes, whose warlords decorated their battle standards with the severed heads of their enemies. In the north, bearded, pale-haired warriors attacked by sea in dragon-prowed longships. Alasiri had always been a beleaguered nation, surrounded on all sides by humankind who coveted the elves’ fertile land and resources.

Raidan sighed and rubbed his aching eyes. He couldn’t remember when he had last slept. “How many more have fallen sick?”

Odata drummed her gloved fingers on the stone parapet. “Seven, at last count, all among the household staff. So far, our luck appears to be holding. No more guards have gotten sick, and I’ve heard no reports of anything unusual among the army.”

“It’s science, Odata, far more than luck, that’s prevented this plague from spreading,” Raidan commented.

The Lady of Tono sniffed. “Respectfully, my lord Prince, I believe in luck and the One who bestows it. You speak of science and how it has the power to explain everything, yet you still have no idea what causes this sickness.” She paused to wet her lips before continuing. “I believe the Goddess has sent this plague and this war to us as a sign. People have been turning away from Her, turning their backs on She who created us! The temples are empty, the priesthood is dwindling…There are some holy days where I and my family are the only ones attending worship in our village.”