Leslie Moore: Griffin's Destiny

“Who is it?”

“You need to see for yourself, my lord.”

Ashinji stepped through the entrance, letting the blanket slip from his shoulders as he did so, then moved forward into the light.

Sen lounged in a camp chair, a wooden tankard in his hand. Misune sat beside him on a stool, her brother Ibeji sprawled on a cushion at her feet. Sen looked up to greet his visitor and his words froze on his lips.

The tankard slipped from his fingers.

Misune leapt from her stool with a startled shriek. Ibeji bolted up, staring.

Like a man moving through a dream, Ashinji’s father drifted to his feet, his face white.

“Father,” Ashinji whispered.

Sen lurched forward then swept Ashinji into his arms.

“My son!” he sobbed. “My son is alive!”

A memory from childhood pushed its way to the fore of Ashinji’s consciousness just then. He had been very young, a baby really, playing by himself, when he had fallen into a deep hole. He found out much later that it was an old, forgotten well. He had crouched in the dark, bruised and crying, too young to fear death but old enough to fear he would never see his mother and father again.

After what seemed like forever to his child’s mind, Sen came to rescue him. Ashinji remembered how his father lifted him into his strong arms then held him close, how he had felt completely safe and how quickly his fear had evaporated in the heat of his father’s love.

It feels like that now.

“How is this possible?” Sen whispered. He held Ashinji at arm’s length, shaking his head. Tears spilled from his eyes and dripped off his chin. “ Ashi …Ashi, my child! Where have you been ?” Ashinji tried to speak but his own tears trapped the words in his throat.

“Never mind, Son.” Sen pulled him close again. “I can see you’ve been through a terrible ordeal. There’ll be time to hear all about it after you’ve gotten some rest.”

Ashinji nodded against his father’s shoulder. He could feel his body letting go and his mind slipping away. “I just need to sleep a little, that’s all,” he murmured.

“Here…come over here, Son. Lie down on my cot.”

Ashinji allowed his father to steer him to a folding bed behind a curtain. He sank down with a grateful sigh and closed his eyes. He heard his father ask Ibeji to go fetch the doctor.

Father, your Heir is dead. I killed him, but I had no choice. I’m so sorry.

“I can’t understand you, Son, you’re mumbling. Don’t try to talk. Just sleep, now.”

Please forgive me, Father!

“I love you, Son.”

When Ashinji awoke, he turned his head to see his father slumped in a camp chair at his bedside, dozing. He pushed himself onto his elbows, then collapsed back, grinding his teeth against the pounding agony behind his eyes. That pain, along with an assortment of other aches, served as a potent reminder of the ordeal he had survived.

Sen stirred, then jerked awake with a snort. He rubbed his eyes then focused on Ashinji’s face. “Son, you’re awake. How’re you feeling?” Sen’s voice was soft and gentle.

“Like a wagon rolled over my head,” Ashinji groaned. He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. “Ugh! My mouth tastes awful!”

“That’s probably the medicine the doctor’s been forcing down your throat these last two days.” Sen paused for such a long time, Ashinji looked up with concern. He could see his father struggling with himself about something.

“Father, what’s wrong?”

“Ashi, I…no…it’s too soon. You need to rest. We can talk about things later.”

“You know about Sadaiyo,” Ashinji murmured. The memory of his last, terrible encounter with his brother atop the rocky outcrop flooded his mind. For a few heartbeats, he could not move or speak.

“I know my eldest son is dead, but I don’t know how he died,” Sen replied. “I also know my youngest son whom I’d given up for dead, my favorite child whose loss I thought I’d never get over, is, by some miracle, alive. Ashi, I don’t understand any of this. I need to know what happened, but I can wait until you’re stronger.”

“Father, I…”

“No, Son. Not now. I’ll send for the doctor. He’ll bring you something to ease the pain in your head. Then, you can sleep awhile longer. After that…if you’re ready, we’ll talk.”

Ashinji did not argue. His head hurt too much. Instead, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift. He managed to rouse himself enough to swallow the draught the doctor brought, but then he let go again, and slept.

Maaamaaa!

Who calls to me with my baby’s voice? Are there spirits here on the other side that can do that?

Maaamaaa!

Who are you? Why do you torment me so, calling to me that way! I can’t be with my baby, not here, not in this place. Stop, please!

Jelena…listen now and follow my voice…Come to me.

I know you, too! But you can’t be here, either. Please, please stop torturing me! Leave me alone to rest in peace…Isn’t that what the dead are supposed to do?

You are not dead, Jelena. Not any more. It is time to return to the living world. Follow my voice and I will guide you back.

Why should I listen to you? It’s peaceful here…quiet…no pain…I like it here.

Your daughter is calling you. Can’t you hear her? She needs her mother.

My baby…is that truly her?

Maaamaa!

Yes, Jelena. She is waiting for you. Now, come.

All right…yes, I’ll come. For my baby…Hattie! Mama’s coming!

Jelena opened her eyes.

Ashinji opened his eyes. He still lay on his father’s cot, sweating beneath a pile of blankets. He freed himself from the stifling weight then sighed with relief. While he had been asleep, the remnants of his clothes had been removed, and the worst of the dirt sponged off him. The pain in his head had subsided. Cautiously, he sat up then swung his legs to the floor.

The golden light of late afternoon filtered in through the canvas walls of the tent. How long he had been asleep this time, Ashinji could only guess, but by his urgent need to relieve himself, he figured at least an entire day. He reached under the cot, groping for a chamber pot. A few heartbeats later the curtain separating the sleeping area from the rest of Lord Sen’s tent rustled and a manservant peeked around the edge.

Sen’s valet Kamiro smiled. “Lord Ashinji, I thought I heard you moving around. Are you hungry? I’ve got a little cold soup, if you’re up to it.”

Ashinji pressed a hand to his rumbling midsection. “Soup sounds good,” he said with a small grin, though it hurt his injured lip to do so. “It’s good to see you, Kamiro. Is my father around?”

“It’s good to see you, as well, my lord. Lord Sen has just left to, er, answer nature’s call, which is what it looks like you need to do. I’ll go fetch the soup.”

The valet left Ashinji to his privacy and when he returned, Sen followed hard on his heels.

“By the One, it’s good to see you looking better, Son,” Sen exclaimed. “I do believe there’s some color back in your cheeks.” He took the soup bowl out of the valet’s hands. “Thank you, Kamiro. I’ll take over now.”

“Very good, my lord.” Kamiro bowed then exited. Sen handed the bowl to Ashinji, then pulled up a stool beside the cot and sat.

“Have you left my side at all these past days, Father?” Ashinji asked.

Sen shrugged. “Only to take a piss now and then.” He laid a hand on Ashinji’s shoulder then squeezed. “Our people are overjoyed, Son, that you’ve been returned to us. I think most of the Kerala levies are camped outside this tent, waiting for you to come out.”