Leslie Moore: Griffin's Destiny

“Pay our hostess,” Raidan directed as he exited the common room into the yard. The stable lad holding his mount’s reins bowed his head as the prince took charge of the horse.

When the entire party had mounted, Raidan led the group out of the inn yard onto the road leading north. He frowned at the dark clouds bulking on the horizon, then looked back over his shoulder to see the innkeeper standing in the doorway, her face a mask of worry. Raidan couldn’t help but sympathize with her.

I have children too , he thought.

He turned to look at Kasai, riding beside him. “We must hurry. This has taken far longer than I’d anticipated. I want to get back to Sendai by tomorrow night.”

“Yes, your Highness,” Kasai replied.

Raidan dug in his heels and his horse surged into a canter. Together, the group of riders raced northward, into the storm.

The prince peered through the eyepiece of his scope at a smear of fluid staining a small glass plate and sighed in frustration.

Nothing!

The samples he had collected in Tono had yet to yield any clues to the nature of the mysterious essence he knew must be the cause of the disease. He pushed aside the scope and rubbed his tired eyes.

Could it be my collection methods? I followed, to the letter, the recommendations of Nazarius. No, that can’t be the problem. What about the means of preservation of the specimens?

He picked up a specimen jar and examined the blob of tissue floating within.

Perhaps. Vinegar, wine, salt. All well and good for foodstuffs, but for fragile tissue samples? Unfortunately, there isn’t anything else available, unless I incur the considerable expense of buying preservation spells from a mage, which is impractical.

Could the problem lie with my instruments? Perhaps they are not sensitive enough.

Raidan gazed at the microscope, a delicate construction of brass and carefully ground lenses. The finest maker of scientific and navigational tools in all of the Arrisae Islands had custom crafted it to Raidan’s specifications. The scope had worked beautifully on other things: the minute structure of a butterfly’s wing, the round disks that floated in the blood of both people and animals.

No, there has to be some other reason, something I’ve not thought of yet.

Raidan stood and stretched, then poured himself a glass of wine from the carafe on his work table. He took a sip, then walked to the window of his study and looked out at the small, walled garden below. The carefully tended plants had been the pride and joy of his mother. Taya, his wife, looked after it now. The little garden had always been a sanctuary of sorts, filled with happy childhood memories.

If only those carefree days could be recaptured , Raidan thought.

Five days ago, he had stood before the full council and had given his report on the situation in Tono. Afterward, Lady Odata immediately begged permission to return home and the king had granted it. She and her people had departed Sendai that same day.

Yesterday, a rider had arrived from Tono with a message from Odata-the Soldaran Army advanced northward at a leisurely pace, as if deliberately mocking the elves. Keizo had remarked that since the humans brimmed with such confidence over their superior numbers, they apparently felt no need to hurry.

Tonight, he, Keizo, and Sen Sakehera planned to meet privately in order to finalize the war plans. All was essentially in readiness. The army was assembled and the Home Guard in place. Only the role of the mages remained to be finalized.

Keizo had insisted on using mages, and after some serious thought, Raidan had agreed. It made sense. Very few humans were capable of wielding magic, and those that could did not command the same force and power as even a modestly trained elven mage. From what Raidan knew about human magic, most of it seemed based on little more than superstition, illusion, and outright trickery.

Magic would give them a badly needed advantage, serving to counterbalance the elves’ lesser numbers.

A sharp knock on his study door interrupted the prince’s train of thought. “Come!” he called out.

The door swung open and a page, dressed in the livery of the king, stepped through and bowed. “Your Highness! Princess Jelena begs you to come right away. The king has fallen ill!”

Raidan’s heart froze.

The half-full glass slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, spilling wine across the mats in a blood-red spray.

The prince bolted past the startled page, through the deserted rooms of his apartments and out into the corridor. He didn’t stop running until he reached the king’s bedside.

Breath heavy with fear more than exertion, Raidan stood gazing down at his brother, who lay pale and sweating in the bed he shared with his Companion Sonoe, the telltale swellings already beginning to appear under his jaw.

“It’s the plague, isn’t it?”

Raidan looked into the eyes of Keizo’s daughter, her stricken face so like his brother’s, Raidan wondered how he could ever have doubted her paternity. His niece sounded more like a scared child than a grown woman. He nodded and Jelena dropped her head into her hands.

Guilt, like a landslide, rolled down upon the prince, threatening to overwhelm him.

This is my fault! I must have brought the plague back from Tono somehow!

Keizo had expressed serious misgivings about allowing him to pursue his inquiries, but Raidan had insisted, charging Keizo with backwardness in wanting to cling to magic rather than accepting the rational tenets of science.

Now, all of Alasiri will pay the price for my arrogance.

Neither Jelena nor he spoke for a time. The enormity of this disaster was too overwhelming to absorb all at once. Raidan, even with his limited Talent, felt his niece’s despair beating at him like a living thing, raw and wild.

At last, Jelena whispered, “What are we going to do?” Her voice quivered with unshed tears. She moved from the foot of the bed closer to Raidan.

“We have no choice but to carry on,” he replied, fighting for control. “The lives of all our people are at stake. Fortunately, everything is in place. All that’s left now is to execute the war plan.”

Jelena nodded. “Yes, Uncle, I agree. I wish to ride out with the army, by your side, as I would have with my father.” For the first time since she had arrived in Sendai and had changed all of their lives forever, Raidan felt genuine tenderness toward his brother’s daughter, and pride as well.

She has proven herself to be a true Onjara, strong and brave, human blood notwithstanding. Was it only a few months ago that I contemplated murdering this girl to safeguard my own ambitions?

Shame, like a bitter-tongued old hag, harangued him, adding to the heavy burden of guilt already weighing down his soul. Unaccustomed to this particular emotion, it did not sit well with him.

He rested a hand on Jelena’s shoulder. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here in Sendai with your father and Hatora?” he asked in a gentle voice. “No one would think any less of you.”

“There’s nothing I can do for him,” she replied, glancing at Keizo then back at her uncle. “Sonoe will stay with him.”

Raidan shook his head, and when Jelena opened her mouth to protest, he pressed a finger to her lips. “No, Niece. I cannot allow you to leave Sendai, and I ask you to please just listen before you bite my head off. You are not a trained soldier! Your child needs her mother. Think about what would happen to Hatora if you should fall in battle. She’s already lost her father. Do you really think it’s fair to put her at risk of losing you as well?”