Authors: Leslie Ann Moore
The sounds of muffled laughter and a snatch of song drifted on the dusty air. Somewhere in the compound, a man sneezed. From across the yard, in the direction of the women’s barracks, a female voice cried out, whether from pain or pleasure, Ashinji couldn’t tell.
“Ashinji,” Seijon murmured, “D’you think you’ll ever get to go back home to Alasiri?
“I was not so sure a short while ago, but now…Yes, I believe I will see my home and family again,” Ashinji replied, and he surprised himself with the surety of his resolve.
“Will you take me with you?” In the waning light of dusk, the hikui boy’s eyes looked like huge, dark stones in his lean, humanish face.
“When the time comes, Seijon, we will speak of it. It is too soon now.”
The sound of approaching hoofbeats heralded the arrival of Aruk-cho. The akuta greeted Ashinji in Siri-dar. “Good evening, my friend. I have come to find out how you are doing.” He halted just beyond the awning and stood with one back foot flexed, horse-like. His long black tail swished gently to and fro.
“I’m as well as can be expected, I think,” Ashinji said. He glanced down at the fresh mark on his right shoulder—a stylized lily flower seared into the skin by a red-hot branding iron. “Gran’s salve has eased the pain of this burn quite nicely…By the way, I must compliment you on your command of Siri-dar.”
“Can I have a ride Aruk-cho?” Seijon jumped to his feet, bouncing like an eager toddler.
“Not now, young one,” Aruk-cho replied. “I have work to do. Perhaps tomorrow evening.” The ghost of a smile played about the akuta’s fierce countenance. “Gran instructs me in your tongue when time permits,” he said to Ashinji. “She has attempted to school that one as well,” he indicated Seijon with a lift of his chin, “but he is very impatient, as all young ones are.”
“Joktan has made me swordmaster for the new slaves. I am to train every one who needs basic instruction,” Ashinji said.
“So Joktan told me. He is a man who sees very little to praise in this world, but he praised your technique when he spoke to me. This is a good thing, Ashinji. Your usefulness will keep you out of harm’s way much longer. Slaves with skills that are needed in the yard face far fewer lethal matches.”
“I made an enemy through no fault of my own,” Ashinji said with a rueful shake of his head. “The human called Leal seemed to expect that he would get the job. He has threatened me already,” He tugged at his bare earlobe, missing anew the feel of the rings he used to wear there during his old, lost life.
“Yeah, Aruk-cho! You’ve got to do something about that crazy shithead!” Seijon cried. “Give ‘im nothing but lethal matches ‘til someone finally guts ‘im!” Ashinji no longer wondered at the boy’s obvious hatred for Leal, given that a man like Leal had murdered his mother.
“I do not fear Leal, Seijon,” Ashinji said reassuringly. “He is a good swordsman, but I am better.”
“He won’t come at you with a sword. It’ll be a knife in the back, in a dark corner,” the boy muttered.
“The young one is right. Leal is treacherous, and much more clever than he looks. Watch yourself at all times. Now, I must go. The mistress has tasks for me to complete before I can seek my bed.”
Ashinji bid the akuta goodnight, and watched as he melted into the darkness.
“Get Leal before he gets you, Ashinji,” Seijon whispered.
“It is time for bed, Seijon,” Ashinji replied.
That night, Ashinji dreamed of a faceless man, standing over him with a knife, poised for the downward stroke that would end his life. Ashinji opened his mouth to scream, but his tongue froze, unable to form any sound. Just as the glittering blade began its descent, a huge black shadow blotted out the light and the faceless man vanished.
Ashinji woke with a start. The vertigo that always gripped him after a prophetic dream left him queasy. He lay back on his bunk and stared at the ceiling, drawing in deep breaths to slow his galloping heart.
Perhaps Seijon is right; I should get Leal before he gets me…No! I will kill only in self-defense.
He covered his face with his hands.
Jelena, my love, I miss you so much!
He slept no more that night.
A Vision, A Tale, And A Plan
The march of days passed inexorably onward and, as Gran predicted, Ashinji soon settled into the rhythm of life in the de Guera yard. The weather gradually cooled as fall melted into a winter so mild, Ashinji barely noticed the difference.
Ashinji’s job as swordmaster to the unskilled new arrivals kept him out of the lethal matches, as Aruk-cho had promised, but after about a month at the yard, he found himself on the regular roster for the many points matches run each week.
On the day of his debut in the Grand Arena, he caused a sensation. The Darguinian public had never seen anything like him before, and they responded with immediate and near frenzied excitement. He beat his opponents in all three matches, and left the blood-stained sands with only a shallow cut across his sword arm and the thunderous applause of the crowd ringing in his ears.
From that day forward, Ashinji battled in the Arena five days a week. On some days, he fought in the pouring rain, and on others, beneath the weak glare of the winter sun. At first, he used a variety of weapons, including the short, heavy stabbing sword favored by the Soldaran fighters, but quickly settled on a lighter, longer blade forged in the desert country of the Ahzani. The Ahzani weapon came closest to the feel of an elf-made sword.
His opponents proved a mixed lot; he faced an even assortment of good to excellent fighters, some of whom might have killed him, given the right combination of luck and timing. He constantly gave thanks to the One that his position in the yard spared him from the lethal matches, though he had no illusions that his situation could not, nor would not, eventually change.
All of the fighters, both slave and free, wore armor of some sort. Mistress de Guera issued each of her slaves a stout coat of leather sewn over with small squares of steel, steel-plated leather arm and leg guards, and a metal helmet with an open face. None of it matched the quality of his elven-made armor, but Ashinji knew it was better than nothing.
He never left the Arena without a cut or two, but luck and skill kept him from more serious injury. Every day, he mourned the loss of his old life and longed for the comfort of Jelena’s arms.
He often dreamed of her. Sometimes, she smiled and seemed happy; other times, her face glistened with tears. Only once did he wake with the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that always accompanied a prophetic dream. In his vision, he saw Jelena, hugely pregnant and in the midst of labor. She lay with her head cradled in the lap of a beautiful, red-haired woman. Something dark and menacing fluttered around the woman’s head like shreds of mist. Jelena wailed as a birth pain wracked her body. Ashinji could only watch in disembodied horror as the flame-haired woman thrust her index finger straight down Jelena’s throat.
All the next day, Ashinji moved about in a fog of fear. He felt certain the face he’d seen in his dream— though indistinct—belonged to King Keizo’s Companion. Sonoe had a well-known reputation as a powerful mage, and Ashinji knew of her involvement with Jelena’s magical training. If Sonoe bore Jelena any ill will, she had never revealed her true feelings. Ashinji had no cause to distrust her—until now.
That evening, he sought out Gran and told her of his dream.
“‘Tis a pity such a Talent as yours was never developed, Ashi. You would be a force to be reckoned with!”
As was her custom every evening after supper, Gran sat outside the women’s barracks on a three-legged stool, back against the wall, smoking a pipe. She fanned the air before her face in an effort to disperse the pungent smoke given off by the burning herb. “I’ve been meaning to give up this filthy habit,” she grumbled.
Ashinji, perched on another stool beside her, stifled a cough as the fumes stung his throat. “I need to know for sure the woman I saw is a danger to my wife, Gran.”
“Visions are tricky things, young man. Many times they show only what
might
happen, not what
will
happen. Their language is often symbolic, as you well know. This red-haired woman might not be an actual person, but rather an avatar of someone or some
thing.”
“No, no.” Ashinji shook his head. “She is an actual person…the official consort of King Keizo, and a trained mage.”
“We will try an old technique for delving into the deepest parts of the mind.” Gran took a drag on her pipe and allowed the smoke to trickle from her nostrils in long streamers before continuing. “I will be as gentle as I can, but it will hurt, and you’ll have a nasty headache afterward.” Her pale eyes met his.
Ashinji nodded.
Gran dumped the still-burning herb from her pipe onto the ground and tucked it into a skirt pocket. “I might see things you wish to keep private, Ashi. Does that worry you?”
“No, Gran. I trust you,” Ashinji replied. He leaned forward and Gran placed her cool hands on either side of his head. He closed his eyes.
Ashinji’s mind had been probed before, but only by his mother. Those superficial scans had been more of a discomfort than truly painful, but this was an entirely different experience. He felt his body squirming even as he fought to remain still while Gran pushed ever deeper. Her mind felt cool, logical, superbly ordered, and very, very powerful. Ashinji had never felt such immense Talent before. He heard himself groan as Gran pulled forth the memory of the red-haired woman and held it up for examination.
The face resolved itself into a clear picture of Sonoe. Even though he had expected it, Ashinji’s gut still twisted with dismay. Why would Sonoe wish to hurt Jelena? It made no sense to him.
The feel of Gran’s mind changed as the memory of Ashinji’s vision became clearer. Her thoughts crackled with alarm, which only fueled his own anxiety. The pain of the probe intensified and it required all of his strength just to remain still.
“Gran…please, enough!” he gasped through gritted teeth.
Abruptly, the pain ceased. He opened bleary eyes to find Gran still drawn close, her hands gripping his head.
She peered into his eyes. “Are you all right?” she inquired.
“I have a bad headache, as promised, but otherwise… yes.”
As Gran massaged his temples, a look of profound sadness flitted across her face.
“What’s wrong?” Ashinji asked.
Gran shook her head and sniffed loudly. “Just an old woman’s memories, coming back to haunt her. You remind me of someone very dear to me, someone I lost a long time ago.” She sat back with a sigh. “It’s not important. What is important is that I know this Sonoe, or more precisely, I know of her. She was a student of the Kan Onji when I served there as provost. Even as a student, she stood out for her brilliance and ambition. I always knew she’d go far, but…”
“King’s Companion is not what you would have expected for her?” Ashinji smiled wryly.
Gran sniffed again and raised an eyebrow. “She came to us with almost no money and so was obliged to work for her keep and training. She did very little manual labor, as I recall.”
“The darkness I saw hovering around Sonoe…what does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Gran admitted. “It could mean that she, herself, is evil, or she is being influenced by an evil, outside force.”
“I know she’s a very powerful sorceress, Gran. Do you have any idea what she’s doing—or might do—to my wife?” Ashinji paused. “Goddess’ tits! Jelena’s blue fire… That must be what she wants!”
“What is this ‘blue fire’?” Gran asked.
“It’s some kind of an energy form within Jelena, but it’s not part of her Talent. Do you think Sonoe knows what it is?”
Gran countered with a request. “Tell me everything you know about this energy form your wife harbors.”
“Well…” Ashinji hesitated then continued, “I don’t know much at all, really… only that it’s always been there, according to Jelena. She has no idea what it is or how to control it. She assumed it was a normal part of her elven heritage and hoped to learn more about it after she came to live among us. The few times when she and I have shared a mindlink, I’ve seen it in her. It always looks like a blue ball of light.”
“Do you know of the Kirian Society, Ashi?” Gran asked.
“Yes. They’re an ancient order of mages. My mother is a member…or she used to be.”
“Before I had to leave Alasiri, I was the Mistress of the Society,” Gran revealed.
Ashinji silently digested this information while Gran continued. “Once, we Kirians wielded power enough to shape political and social events to our will. We were the moral guardians of the realm. The kings and queens of Alasiri listened to and heeded our counsel. Now, sadly, we are but a pale shadow of the Kirians of old.” She stared out into the darkness as if her eyes could pierce the veil of time and see into the past.
“This is all very interesting, but what does it have to do with Jelena and Sonoe?” Ashinji’s anxiety made his voice sharp.
Jelena is in danger and I can’t protect her as long as I remain a captive!
he thought.
“Patience, young man,” Gran admonished. “I’m telling you all of this so you will better understand what must be done. Now, listen. What I’m about to tell you is known only to the Kirians, and has been safeguarded by our order since ancient times. I’m only telling you because you are directly involved.