Griffin's Shadow (28 page)

“My brother Magnes disappeared some months ago,” Thessalina revealed. “After our father died. No one knows where he went or if he’ll ever return. For the time being, I am acting as his regent.” Her face clouded over. Ashinji felt resentment flowing from her like a gray fog. His heart sank. Contacting Magnes had been his only real hope of escape.

“Captain Sirrus, you and your men will be rewarded,” Thessalina said. “Have the prisoner brought to my tent straightaway.” She spun on her heel and walked away.

“You heard what her Ladyship said!” Captain Sirrus barked. He motioned to the two men holding Ashinji’s arms and they hustled him forward, unmindful of his wound. By the time they reached Thessalina’s large tent at the center of the camp, fresh blood seeped out around the embedded arrowhead, and Ashinji was breathless from stifling his screams. His captors released him, and, too weak to stand, he collapsed to the rug-covered canvas floor.

“Gods!” he heard Thessalina exclaim. “Fetch the surgeon at once!”

“Yes, my lady!” Footsteps pounded out of the tent. Ashinji felt a hand cradle his head. He opened his eyes to find Thessalina bending over him.

“Can you hear me?” Her dark gaze pierced the fog shrouding his mind.

“Yes, I can hear you,” he whispered. “May I please have some water?” Thirst had become almost as harsh a pain as that of his wound.

“Bring me some water!” Thessalina ordered, and someone handed her a leather canteen. She uncorked the spout and, supporting Ashinji’s head in one hand, she held the bottle to his lips. The tepid water tasted of cowhide, but Ashinji drank until Thessalina pulled it away. “Not too much. You’ll make yourself sick,” she murmured.

“Help me up, please,” he croaked. Thessalina slipped an arm beneath his uninjured shoulder and assisted him into a sitting position. She then squatted beside him, staring intently into his face. Neither one spoke for many heartbeats.

Finally, Ashinji broke the silence. “What are you going to do with me?” he asked, returning her gaze.

“Your Soldaran is excellent. How and why did you learn to speak our tongue?” she responded, ignoring his question.

“Languages come easily to me. I had a tutor who taught me the basics, and my father has many books written in Soldaran. As for the why…Is it not wise to know one’s enemy as intimately as possible? What better way than to learn his language?”

Thessalina sighed and bit her lower lip. “I’ve never actually seen a full-blooded elf before, let alone talked to one,” she said.

Ashinji’s chuckle turned into a wince. “Your brother said something similar to me when we first met,” he replied.

“Your commander made a foolish mistake, settling his army in a field of dry grass. Did he not think we’d try to burn him out?”

“My commander is…” Ashinji stopped himself before the words
not an experienced officer
escaped his lips.
No. I can’t let her know of any weaknesses
, he thought. Instead, he said, “Your raiders were lucky…to get past our pickets. It will not happen again.”

Thessalina’s eyebrows shot up like the wings of a bird. “Lucky, you say. I say otherwise...We will cross the river at dawn. Our numbers are far superior to yours, and your soldiers will be worn out from fighting the fire.”

“Our force is made up of seasoned professionals. They will hold their own, I have no doubt. We defend our homeland, do not forget.” Ashinji paused, fighting a fresh wave of nausea and dizziness. He coughed, then whispered, “We will resist you…to our very last breaths.”

“I expect you will,” Thessalina replied.

“What…will you…do with me?” Ashinji asked again. He could barely keep his eyes open now.

Thessalina did not answer for several heartbeats. Finally, she said, “I don’t know, yet.”

“My lady, the surgeon is here.” A soldier stood at the tent’s entrance with another man, clad in a leather apron, beside him. Thessalina motioned for the surgeon to enter. He crossed over to where Ashinji sat and hunkered down to examine the broken arrow.

“Have him brought to the hospital tent, my lady,” the surgeon directed. “Should be a simple matter of drawing out the tip, as long as it’s not barbed… none of the archers uses barbed heads, do they? Anyhow, I’ll draw out the tip, flush the wound, and apply a poultice. I suppose his kind can get wound poisoning and fevers like we can, but tinks are tough…or so I’ve heard.” His voice oozed contempt. Thessalina nodded her head in dismissal and the man stood and departed.

Ashinji could feel the last of his strength trickling away with each fresh drop of blood that escaped his body.

Thessalina looked down at him with what might have been a measure of sympathy. “We’ll talk later, if you survive.” She snapped her fingers. “Take him,” she ordered. The same two guards who had brought him before their commander came forward and hoisted Ashinji to his feet. They saluted, then half-dragged, half-carried their captive from the tent. Ashinji struggled to support some of his own weight in order to relieve the excruciating pressure on his wounded shoulder, but the guards mistook his efforts for an escape attempt.

“Quit wigglin’! You’ll not get away from us, tink,” the man on his left growled. He tightened his grip, cruelly digging in his fingers.

Human faces, distorted with hatred, derision, savage glee, and every other kind of ugliness passed by in a blur as the guards hustled him through the camp. Ashinji felt like a wounded animal, paraded before the masses in a sick spectacle. He tried to conceal his fear, but he was just too beaten, too drained.

In a curtained-off area at the back of the large, empty hospital tent, the surgeon stood waiting, hands on hips, an impatient scowl twisting his thin lips. Two younger, larger men stood on either side of him, each clad in a heavy leather apron matching his own. A long wooden table filled the remaining space.

“Here,” the surgeon ordered, pointing. The guards pushed Ashinji down on the table, maintaining their grips upon his arms. “You two can go. My lads’ll handle him now.”

On his signal, the surgeon’s assistants surged forward. One secured Ashinji’s arms, the other grabbed his ankles.

“Put in the gag,” the surgeon ordered, then proceeded to slice off Ashinji’s bloody tunic with a small knife. One of the assistants stuffed a wad of filthy cloth into his mouth. The surgeon bent down to peer into Ashinji’s eyes. “Try not to move,” he murmured, acknowledging for the first time that he treated a man and not a beast. He straightened and disappeared briefly from Ashinji’s view, returning with a pair of pliers and a slender blade. “Hold him steady, lads,” he commanded. A tiny smile played about his mouth.

He seized the broken arrow shaft with the pliers and yanked.

Ashinji uttered a single, agonized scream, then the darkness claimed him, and he felt nothing more.

No Choice But Surrender

Ashinji awoke to find himself clad only in his breeches, lying on a blanket atop a loose pile of straw. A thick bandage swaddled his left shoulder. As he blinked slowly to clear his vision, his surroundings swam into focus.

Light’s pretty dim, it must be near sunset. That means I’ve been out at least a day…Ai Goddess, the attack! It’s over now, of course…Sadaiyo held them off, surely…Sadaiyo had to have…he had to!

Struggling against the pain that threatened to send him back into the embrace of the darkness, he levered himself up to a sitting position and looked around.

An awning of dirty canvas swayed overhead, supported by two poles driven into the ground at its front edge. The back and sides were secured to a three-sided enclosure made of the slender trunks of sapling trees. Loosely woven matting attached to the saplings served as a screen; whether to foil curious eyes or keep him ignorant of what lay beyond his prison, Ashinji could only guess.

A pair of guards sat on stools at the front of the enclosure, their backs to him, the slump of their shoulders speaking eloquently of their boredom and absolute belief in his helplessness. Ashinji, much to his surprise, found himself taking offense at the guards’ offhand attitude toward him, then the absurdity of such feelings struck him and he couldn’t help but laugh.

I am helpless,
he thought.
And wounded. And totally alone.

One of the guards heard Ashinji’s bleak expression of mirth. He twisted around on his stool and peered into the gloom of the makeshift cell. “Hey Trip, I think he’s awake,” he said to his companion.

“Hey, tink! You awake in there?” the other guard called out.

Ashinji considered feigning continued unconsciousness, but he was desperately thirsty and he hoped these two had orders, at the very least, to see to his basic needs.

“Please, may I have some water?” he asked, and silently cursed the weakness of his voice.

“Go get him some water.”

The one called Trip heaved himself to his feet, and grumbling under his breath, stumped off. The remaining guard continued to stare into the enclosure, searching the shadows. “We’d all heard you spoke Soldaran,” he said. “Her Ladyship’ll be happy you’re still alive. Soon as Trip’s back with the water, I’m off to fetch her.”

Ashinji didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he lay back on the crude mattress and curled up on his uninjured side.
I might still be alive now, but for how long?
he thought. His entire left arm and shoulder throbbed with brutal intensity. A ferocious headache and queasy stomach only compounded his misery. He knew a poisoned wound could bring an ugly death, and he felt sick with dread.

Even with their far more sophisticated knowledge of anatomy and physiology, despite the advantages of medical sorcery, elven doctors could not stop the advance of putrefaction once it had progressed past a certain point. Ashinji had little confidence in the Soldaran camp surgeon’s ability to save him if his wound turned bad.

Trip returned carrying a waterskin. He had to stoop to enter the enclosure. With a sniff, he dropped the waterskin next to Ashinji’s head. Too weary and sick to move, Ashinji closed his eyes. He could feel the human’s presence like a dim light flickering over him.

“Why you staring at him like that? C’mon, get outta there!” Trip’s fellow guard growled.

“Just curious, is all,” Trip muttered. “’Aint never seen a tink up close before. Think the priests are right about ‘em?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Now come out and sit down. I’m going to fetch her Ladyship.”

Ashinji both felt and heard Trip’s retreat to his stool outside the enclosure. He opened his eyes and reached for the waterskin. It took every bit of energy he had to lift himself upright, uncork the waterskin, and raise it to his lips. Despite his raging thirst, his stomach rebelled after only a few small sips and he had to stop drinking lest he vomit up what little water he had managed to consume. He lay down to wait.

For a time, his mind drifted in retreat from the emotional anguish of all that had befallen him. He wanted to let go completely, but the thought of never seeing Jelena again held him back.

“Ashinji Sakehera.”

The sound of his name brought him out of the fog. He rolled over and saw Thessalina crouched at his side, eyes narrowed, lips twisted in a frown.

“You look worse now than when my men first brought you in.” She made a low rumbling sound deep in her throat, a noise Ashinji interpreted as an expression of anger. “That surgeon is little more than a butcher, but he’s all we’ve got out here.”

“If the wound stays clean, I will live,” Ashinji replied. Each word took a tremendous effort to form. “Tell me…tell me about the attack,” he whispered.

“Your people fought bravely, just as you said they would. Your general proved more clever than I’d expected, considering his first blunder. He had the superior position and so was able to hold us off. I finally had to call a retreat.”

Ashinji nearly sobbed with relief. He struggled to sit up, but Thessalina pushed him back down with gentle hands.

“Don’t,” she said. “Just lie still and listen to me….My commanders wanted me to force you to talk, and at first, I agreed, but now…” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Now, I find that I lack the stomach for it.”

Ashinji stared at her, confused. He had expected Thessalina to demand all his knowledge of Sadaiyo’s tactics and the size and deployment of the elven forces. He had also expected threats of torture. Thessalina’s confession took him by surprise. She seemed strangely conflicted, almost as if she felt sympathy for his plight.

Her dark eyes searched his. “Even if I had given the order to torture you, you wouldn’t have told me anything useful anyway, would you?”

“No,” Ashinji answered.

“I thought as much…By all the gods, I’m going to pay a heavy price for this decision,” she said.

“What are you going to do with me?” Ashinji asked, for the third time.

Thessalina remained silent for a long time. When at last she spoke, Ashinji heard what sounded like regret in her voice. “I can’t send you back to your people. My commanders won’t allow it. They’d have you killed first. I dare not go against them any more than I am already. They only choose to follow me out of respect for my father, not for any special loyalty they have for me. My position is still very tenuous, and this act of mercy,” she shook her head as if in disbelief of her own actions, “will infuriate them. I’m risking a lot…but I must do what I think is right. I won’t be responsible for your murder. If that means I’ll have to fight to keep my command, then so be it. I have a few allies…and the power of the duchy behind me.” She paused, then added, “I…I’m really very sorry you and my cousin will be separated.” She seemed genuinely surprised by her last words.