Griffin's Destiny (6 page)

“Tell me what has got you in such a state, then,” he prodded in a gentle tone. The woman’s hands flew to her mouth and fat tears leaked from her clear, brown eyes. She stifled a sob, gulped, then whispered, “It’s my oldest boy, sir. I think he…he’s come down with the plague!”

Raidan rose to his feet. “Take me to him,” he commanded. “Kasai, go fetch my bag.”

“Straight away, my lord!” Kasai replied and rushed to obey. Without another word, the innkeeper led the way through the kitchen into the family’s living quarters, Raidan hard on her heels.

The boy lay in a small darkened bedchamber, buried beneath a mound of blankets.

“Mistress, please uncover a window. I need light to work,” Raidan ordered. The innkeeper opened a shutter to allow storm-gray light into the room. Raidan approached the bed, but he needed no visual confirmation to tell him what his nose had already made clear. With gentle hands, he peeled back the layers of blankets to reveal the sick child.

“What is your son’s name, Mistress?” Raidan asked.

“Tanshi, your Highness,” the innkeeper whispered.

“Tanshi, can you hear me?”

The boy moaned and his eyes rolled beneath closed lids.

Kasai entered the room, carrying Raidan’s satchel. He handed over the bag without a word, and backed off to stand at the foot of the bed beside Tanshi’s mother.

Raidan’s eyes traveled over the boy’s body. Tanshi had been a robust lad on the cusp of manhood. The prince noted the telltale signs of the plague, but as of yet, there appeared to be no hemorrhage. Raidan took this as a hopeful sign. Of the many plague victims he had seen over the last week, those that did not bleed went on to recover. Still, the boy was desperately ill and could fail at any moment.

His exam complete, Raidan replaced the blankets, then turned to face the mother. “Tanshi does have the plague, Mistress, but there is cause for hope.” The innkeeper listened attentively while Raidan instructed her on her son’s care and the proper dosage of the medicines he planned to leave. “Above, all, you must wash your hands after you have finished with your son. It is very important.”

The innkeeper looked dubious, but nodded her head. “I will, my lord,” she replied.

Raidan handed her several vials, then repacked his bag.

“You can wash in the kitchen, sir,” the innkeeper said, anticipating Raidan’s next request. As she led the way back into the kitchen, the woman turned and said over her shoulder, “It’s those dirty hikui, my lord. They’re the ones spreading this plague!”

Raidan frowned. “We don’t know enough about this disease to blame its spread on any one thing, Mistress,” he replied.

“Begging your pardon, Highness, but you’ll not convince me!” the woman huffed. “A hikui tinker came calling two weeks ago. My Tanshi spent a fair amount of time with the man’s daughter, against my wishes I might add! Now, he’s sick! No one else has fallen ill. Only my son.” She hovered while Raidan scrubbed his hands in the scullery basin. “I say all hikui should be made to leave Tono, my lord, and I’m not the only one!” Her eyes flashed defiance, as if daring Raidan to chastise her. The prince said nothing; he understood her attitude.

Okui folk are scared and the hikui make convenient scapegoats
, he thought.

Kasai waited for him in the common room. “The blacksmith is here, Highness,” he said. “Your horse should be ready within the hour.”

“Very good.” Raidan nodded to the innkeeper. “I’ll have that beer now, Mistress, if you please.”

The prince sat sipping his beer, mulling over in his mind the report he would make to his brother, the king. His thoughts—dark, grim things—swirled about inside his head dressed in shreds of horror and blood.

What bitter irony it would be if we manage to repel the Soldaran invasion, only to succumb to this human disease. Surely the Goddess would not allow such a fate for Her children!

Kasai interrupted his master’s bleak reverie. “Your horse is ready, my lord prince. We await your orders.”

“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?”

Jelena’s hazel eyes blazed in defiance; then, as Raidan’s words penetrated the wall of desperate fury she had erected, he watched reason begin to cool his niece’s inflamed emotions. Her face crumpled and, without warning, she leaned against him and laid her head on his shoulder.

Caught completely off-guard, Raidan slipped his arms around Jelena almost without thinking. He held her until the spate of tears had passed and she broke the embrace. Wiping her eyes on the hem of her sleeve, she lifted her chin and stared back at Raidan with calm resignation.

“You’re right, of course, Uncle. My place is here with my daughter and I’m ashamed I had to be reminded of it.” She paused, took a deep breath, then asked, “Is there any treatment you know of that might help my father?”

“Nothing specific, other than supportive care,” Raidan replied, moving closer to the bed so he could examine Keizo more thoroughly. “My brother has a very strong constitution. I have every reason to hope he will survive.” He leaned in close and spoke into Keizo’s ear. “Can you hear me, Brother?”

The king moaned and his lips worked but no words slipped out.

“Don’t worry, Keizo. Sen and I know what must be done.” Raidan spoke in a rapid whisper. “Alasiri will not fall, not as long as there is a single elf left alive to defend her. I swear to you on the graves of our father, brother, and mother, that I will not let the humans take our land from us!”

“I’m here too, Father.” Jelena came up beside Raidan and closed her hand around Keizo’s. Lifting it to her lips, she kissed her father’s palm, then pressed it to her cheek and closed her eyes.

“Where is Sonoe?” Raidan asked, surprised and puzzled at the absence of Keizo’s Companion.