Griffin's Daughter (20 page)

“
We elves are not without prejudice,” Ashinji admitted. “Take my captain, Gendan Miri, as an example. He is typical in his attitude toward humans. Oh, he acknowledges that you humans are intelligent and good at many things, but he believes that elves are more evolved… superior, in fact. In Alasiri, we have people of mixed blood—
hikui
we call them—who live among us… not many, but a significant number. I am sorry to say that they suffer legal discrimination, in many aspects of life, but they are not generally despised or abused. If Jelena had been born in my country, she would have had a much better life.” He poked at the fire with a long stick, sending a cloud of bright sparks whirling up into the night sky. “Out here on the frontier, things are looser, more tolerant,” he continued. “There are a lot of people living out here with a human or two in their family trees.”

“
How do you feel about humans and…
hikui?
” Magnes asked slowly.

Ashinji regarded him thoughtfully for several moments, as if trying to decide just exactly how to frame his response. Magnes found himself growing uncomfortably warm under that brilliant, green gaze. “I have never spoken to a human before I met you.  I, too, grew up with certain ideas about your people that I have never really questioned until now. I am revising my opinion even as we speak. As for how I feel about those of mixed race, I have always felt that they should have the same rights under the law as any
okui
, our word for pureblood.”

“
So, my cousin is going to be an outsider here as well, made to feel as if she doesn’t quite belong…Gods!” Magnes muttered angrily. “She doesn’t deserve this. All she wants is to find a real family!”

“
Does your cousin know her father’s name?” Ashinji asked, leaning forward slightly to look into Jelena’s sleeping face.

“
He called himself Zin,” Magnes replied.

“
Hmm. Zin is really just a
bukuza
… a nickname. That is all she knows about him? It would be far more useful if she knew his family name, at least. That way, we would know if he was noble or common.”

“
Gods! I almost forgot. She carries a ring that belonged to him. It hangs on chain around her neck. I’ll get it for you.”

“
No, no, do not disturb her. Just describe the ring to me.”

“
It’s made of white gold, with a black stone set flush in the band. There’s a griffin, also white, inlaid into the center of the stone.” Ashinji reacted as if he’d just heard something completely unexpected and altogether startling. “What? What is it? Do you recognize the signet?” Magnes eagerly asked.

“
I…I am not sure,” Ashinji replied. He frowned, and pulled on the gold rings in his left ear, staring at Jelena intently all the while. Then he shook his head as if answering a question in his own mind. “I do not recognize it exactly, but it could fit the devices of several noble families, or it could be someone’s personal device. My father should be able to figure it out.” He rose to his feet and stretched. “I have something in my saddlebag I want you to try,” he said, then strode away into the dark.

Magnes leaned over to check on Jelena. She remained deep in a drug-induced slumber. He adjusted the blankets around her then allowed his eyes to slowly scan the campsite.

The man named Gendan Miri sat a few paces away, a very young, strawberry blonde woman at his side. They were deep in conversation, and Magnes focused in on the musical cadences of their speech, allowing the alien words to flow into his ears like warm rain. The elves’ language, the sound of their voices, was as beautiful as they were. Most of the others had retired for the night, little more than dark lumps on the riverbank. Two troopers stood guard.

Ashinji returned shortly, carrying something in his hand. It was a small metal flask, which he offered to Magnes. “Have a taste of this,” he said, an enigmatic smile on his face. Magnes took the flask and pulled the stopper. He raised it to his lips and took a sip.

Magnes had never been to the southern islands to behold the great volcanoes there. It was said that when they awoke, the mighty mountains belched clouds of burning smoke, and rivers of molten rock poured forth from their steaming maws. The liquid that ran down his throat must surely be a distillation of the essence of those rivers of fire. He gasped and choked, then began coughing helplessly. Tears streamed down his face as he fought to catch his breath. Ashinji deftly snatched the flask from his hands before it could drop to the ground.

When he could finally talk again, he looked up accusingly at the young elf lord. To his chagrin, Ashinji was laughing. “You…you knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” he spluttered.

Ashinji looked a little sheepish, but made no attempt to hide his amusement. “I am sorry, but you should see yourself. I did not know a human could get so red in the face. I hoped that you would be able to take the
muato
a little bit better than you did, but believe me, one does acquire a taste for it. The first time is always the hardest, but you will get used to it,” he promised cheerfully.

“
I hardly think…hey, that is good.” The potent liquor had settled in Magnes’s stomach like a red-hot coal, but it was cooling rapidly, and like steam, rose straight to his head. He nodded in pleasure, beginning to feel its full effects. “Tha…tha’ has got t’be the strongest stuff ever made, much stronger than anythin’ we have back home.”

“
I knew you would like it. It is a drink shared only between close friends and allies.” Ashinji tilted his head back and took a sip. He re-corked the flask and sat down beside Magnes.

“
How do you know I’m your friend…or your ally?” Magnes asked, speaking slowly and carefully, so that his words would not slur. His tongue had turned into an unwieldy turnip in his mouth.

Ashinji tapped his forehead with one elegant finger. “I know because I have an instinct about people, and because you have brought something that is meant for me.”

Magnes puzzled over Ashinji’s words. What, in the names of all of the gods, did the other man mean? Magnes had no more possessions, for everything he had brought out of Amsara had been lost. He could not possibly have anything that was meant for this young elven lord, unless Ashinji had been speaking metaphorically.

Before Magnes could reply, Ashinji slapped his knees and stood up. “Well, it is time that I go to bed. I have left the vial of poppy juice for you, in case your cousin awakes and has need of it. If you need me during the night, I will be close by, just over there.” He pointed toward a spot nearer the water’s edge. Magnes nodded. “Good night, then.”

“
G’night.” Magnes lay down and snuggled close against Jelena. Exhaustion and the
muato
were pulling him down inexorably toward sleep. He hoped that if Jelena needed him, he would be able to respond. His last thoughts just before sleep claimed him were of Ashinji’s odd statement.

Tomorrow, he would ask for an explanation.

Jelena’s Angel

Jelena stood alone on a gray, featureless plain. Above her head hung a blank sky and below her feet, gray dust, stretching out until the two met at the horizon. She turned around slowly, looking in all directions, but one direction seemed much like another.

How did I come to be in this place?

She began walking. Her footfalls sent little puffs of dust spurting into the still air. Oddly, she could not tell if she was actually moving forward, even though she watched herself place one foot before the other. She had no way of knowing how long she walked; time did not exist in this strange, gray world.

The sensation started as a dull ache in her chest that rapidly grew into something far more intense. She stopped walking and looked down to see that, beneath her skin, where her living heart should be, a bright light now burned. Its color was bluish white, and so intense that it hurt her to look upon it. Instinctively, she knew that this was the source of the magic that she carried within her—powerful, wonderful, and dangerous. As she stared at the light, it began to pulsate in a steady rhythm, just as her own heart would have, had it still been a part of her.

She covered the light with her hands, but its rays bled through her fingers.

I mustn’t let it out… can’t let it be seen—but why?

Then, she knew.

Someone, or some
thing
, was searching for the magic—searching for her!

I must not let it find me!

She took a step forward and in the space of an eye blink, found herself standing at the edge of an impossibly high cliff. A wine-dark, restless sea heaved and sighed below. In the strange logic of dreams, only one course of action made sense. She spread out her arms like the wings of a gull and jumped, hurtling down toward the hungry waves. She pierced the surface of the water like an arrow and was immediately seized by a powerful current that tugged her relentlessly downward. Fiercely, she fought against it, stroking hard towards the surface, exploding upward at last with a cry…and awakened to find herself being rocked along on the back of a horse.

“
Shhhh…
I’m here,” Magnes whispered into her ear. His arms encircled and held her steady before him. Her arm and chest ached with dull intensity, but she found herself slipping back towards unconsciousness, and she hadn’t the strength to fight it. She let go…

…
and awakened again, this time on her back, lying in a nest of blankets. She felt uncomfortably warm, and her body hurt with incredible ferocity. She struggled, but was too weak to free herself. Just as she decided to give up, exhausted, the angel appeared.

It was the same one who had come to her the first time, when she lay dying on the riverbank. She stared up helplessly into the whirling green depths of its eyes, unable to look away. It was breathtakingly beautiful—all gold, emerald, and alabaster. It reached down and laid a hand on her burning forehead, and she sighed at the blessed coolness of its touch. She closed her eyes and waited for it to carry her up to the gods on its mighty wings.

~~~

Jelena awoke, clear-headed, to the sound of birdsong. She lay quietly for a few moments and took a mental inventory of her body, relieved to find that all parts were still present and more or less intact.

She opened her eyes and scanned her surroundings. She found herself lying in a very large, comfortable bed in a dimly lit chamber. Sunlight filtered in through the partly opened shutters of a window next to the bed. She sat up and pushed the covers away. A fine, sheer gown of white cotton clothed her body. A tight bandage encircled her torso, just beneath her breasts, and a sling held her splinted left arm tight against her side. She was clean and dry, and a quick check of her hair told her that it had been combed recently. She blushed in embarrassment, contemplating her absolute dependency on her as yet unknown benefactors.

The urgent need to relieve herself drove her to seek a chamber pot. She swung her legs over the side of the bed to the mat-covered floor and attempted to stand, but she was too weak. Her legs buckled, and she fell. Jolts of pain shot through her arm and chest, wringing a scream from her tightly clenched jaws. A warm flood of urine gushed down from between her legs, soaking the gown and the mats upon which she lay sprawled and helpless.

She heard a door fly open and then the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching. A voice—female—gasped, then exclaimed in words Jelena could not understand. She felt hands, strong but gentle, lift her up into a sitting position.

Jelena gaped.

The woman who crouched before her was in late middle age, with a handsome, kind face and soft brown eyes. Her high cheekbones, the upward sweep of her eyebrows, the ears that tapered to delicate points—all were more pronounced versions of the features that Jelena had seen in her own mirror her entire life. “You…you’re an elf,” she whispered. The fact that an elf woman knelt here meant only one thing.

She and Magnes had reached the Western Lands.

The woman spoke gently, indicating with gestures that Jelena should remain where she sat. Jelena was only too happy to comply. She felt woozy and slightly sick to her stomach. The woman left and returned shortly with a pitcher, basin, a stack of cloths, and a fresh gown, and proceeded to get Jelena cleaned up and back into bed. When she had finished and Jelena was settled, she rolled up the urine-soaked mats and carried them with her out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. Jelena sighed and sank back into the cloud of pillows.

Even if I’m not dead, surely this is what the home of the gods must be like.

She closed her eyes.

She must have dozed off for a while, for suddenly, Magnes was there, sitting by the bed, and she had no memory of him entering the chamber. “Magnes!” she cried, reaching for him with her good arm. They embraced and held each other in silence for a time.

At last, Magnes spoke. “Jelena my dear, dear cousin! I’ve been frantic with worry. You’ve been in and out for days. Your fever broke only last night. The doctor wasn’t sure you would live.”

“
Magnes, are we in the Western Lands? I saw an elf woman… here! She helped me…I think she’s been taking care of me. Magnes, did we…”

“
Whoa! Slow down, Cousin… You’ve only just awakened. Yes, we made it. We are in Alasiri. How much of what happened do you remember?”

Jelena shook her head. “Not much. Things are pretty confused and jumbled up.” She reclined back against the pillows and tried to think. “I remember bandits, and running, and being chased by someone on a horse, then it all becomes a big blur.”