Authors: Leslie Ann Moore
“I would wish for more time, but there’s nothing like the forge of battle to temper a young warrior. You’ll be ready.” Kurume picked up Jelena’s sword and held it out to her, hilt first. “I think you’ve had enough practice for today, Highness. We will resume tomorrow, same time.”
“Until tomorrow, Master Kurume,” Jelena replied, taking her sword and carefully sheathing it.
Kurume bowed, then turned and headed for the gate that led out of the king’s private sparring yard. “You coming, Son?” he called out over his shoulder, never breaking stride.
“I’ll be along shortly, Father. I want a word with Princess Jelena,” Mai replied. “That is, if it’s convenient, Princess.”
“Of course, Mai. What is it you wish to speak to me about?” Jelena started walking toward the gate, helmet tucked beneath her arm. Mai fell in beside her. She kept her eyes focused straight ahead, afraid to look directly into Mai’s face, afraid of seeing what she suspected might be there.
Please, Mai! Don’t say it! Don’t change things between us!
“I have a confession to make, Princess,” Mai began. He hesitated, then stopped in his tracks, head lowered. Jelena had no choice but to stop walking as well. She waited for him to continue, dreading his next words.
“I…I have tried to control my feelings. Tried and failed!” Now that he had committed himself, words tumbled from Mai’s lips like a river in flood. “It’s been nearly a year since your husband died. I’ve waited, as was decent, because you’ve been in mourning, but now… now I feel like time is wasting! Alasiri will be at war soon, and if I wait much longer, it may be too late!”
“Oh, Mai,” Jelena breathed.
Mai stood at about the same height as Ashinji, but where Ashinji had been fair, Mai was dark. His raven warrior’s queue fell to his waist and his eyes, the color of aged wood, blazed with emotion.
“I love you, Jelena,” he whispered.
Jelena squeezed her eyes shut to close out the sight of Mai’s vulnerability. The ground beneath her did a slow roll, and she abruptly found herself clinging to his arm.
“Oh, Mai,” she repeated in dismay as she pushed herself away from him. “I…I don’t know what to say!”
“You don’t have to say anything yet, just listen…Your husband was a good man. Many in the army admired Ashinji Sakehera, and not just those who served under him. I would never seek to take his place in your heart.” He paused, then continued, “I’m common-born. You are a princess. It seems like an insurmountable obstacle, but it can be overcome, if only you can return my feelings, Jelena.”
He stepped forward and swept her hand up in his. “Jelena, I promise that I’ll love and cherish you as you deserve, and I’ll love your daughter as if she were my own.”
Jelena trembled. The strength of Mai’s passion engulfed her— almost too much to bear, and yet…
Ashi is gone. I’ll never see him again in this life; why hold on to a ghost? Mai is honest, kind, and nice to look at…and he loves me. Perhaps, in time, I’ll come to love him, but if I don’t…can I accept anything less than what I had with Ashi?
A sudden rush of anger from some deep, hidden place within her soul surged forth, taking her by surprise.
Damn you, Ashi! Why did you leave me like this? Why didn’t you fight harder! Hatora and I need you!
“Jelena, are you all right?”
Jelena shook herself and nodded sharply. “Yes, yes, Mai. I’m all right. This is just a lot to take in. I mean, I suspected that you might…have feelings for me, but to hear you say it out loud…well, I need time to think.”
Mai raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “I’ll give you time,” he said, “but remember...none of us has as much time as we think we do.” He released her hand and the two of them exited the yard. Jelena turned left toward the section of the castle where her apartments lay. Mai turned in the opposite direction.
“Mai, wait!” Jelena called out. He stopped and turned to face her, the hope on his face heartrending. “I promise I’ll think about what you said, and I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long. You deserve a quick answer.”
Mai’s eyes swiveled downward then back up to her face. “Thank you, Princess,” he replied, then bowed and walked away.
Jelena stood watching his retreating figure, and tried hard not to cry.
~~~
“Lady Odata, has there been any more news from the south concerning the plague?” the king asked. Everyone seated at the large, rectangular table looked at the Lady of Tono.
“Sporadic reports, yes,” Odata began. “It seems the disease went dormant over the winter, but with the coming of the spring rains, it has resurfaced. Most alarmingly, all of the new cases are occurring in okui.”
Jelena’s status entitled her to sit in on council meetings, though she had no right to speak without permission. Once she had shown an interest in matters of state, Keizo had encouraged her to do so, and for the last few weeks, she had never missed a session. She always tried to remain as unobtrusive as possible, dressing plainly and positioning her chair behind and to the left of her father’s. After the first couple of times she attended, the council members appeared to forget about her presence altogether.
The king and his advisors knew they had little time left. The rains had stopped and the ground grew dryer by the day. The Soldaran forces were on the move. The elven army had to be ready to meet them.
Life in Sendai went on as usual, but an undercurrent of nervous trepidation flowed through the air like smoke—no panic yet, just a heightened sense of unease. It showed in the faces of the people as they went about their business and made their preparations for the gathering storm. Sendai had never in its long history suffered a siege, but the city had been built with numerous defenses, and according to a committee of experts put together by the king, it could withstand a prolonged blockade—six months, maybe seven—provided all storehouses were full.
The elves’ biggest fear now, besides invasion, was the plague.
Keizo turned to his brother, who sat to his immediate right. “What do you propose we do?” he asked.
“I’ve decided to go down to Tono myself to personally investigate,” Prince Raidan announced. “Secondhand reports are no substitute for firsthand observation.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” Keizo asked. “We don’t know how the disease is spread, nor why it can now affect okui. What if you fall ill? I need you too much, Brother.”
Jelena sipped at a goblet of wine, watching with keen interest the dynamic between her father and uncle. She understood exactly why Raidan wanted to go to Tono himself. Her uncle firmly believed in the ability of science to solve all mysteries and problems, and as a scientist, he would want to apply what he referred to as the scientific method to the problem of the plague.
Keizo, by contrast, held a traditionalist’s view. He preferred to rely on Talent and its application through the use of magic.
“I’ve spoken to you of the theories of Nazarius, Brother,” Raidan replied impatiently. “As long as I take precautions to avoid all bodily excretions from the plague victims…”
“Yes, yes, I know!” Keizo interrupted. “However, I don’t put the same stock in those notions that you do.”
The prince’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I’m a trained physician, Brother. I’m convinced my methods can uncover the cause of this plague, but I need to go to the source to apply them! I must examine victims, collect samples…”
“Majesty, I agree with his Highness,” Sen interjected.
Both the king and the prince turned to face the Lord of Kerala.
“It’s vitally important that we learn all we can about this illness and it seems to me the prince is the one best qualified to investigate.”
“Don’t fight me on this, Keizo,” Raidan said in a low voice. The rest of the council looked on, faces impassive. Jelena watched her father’s face slowly relax as he relented.
“Very well. Do what you must, but do it as quickly as you can.”
“I will leave at first light tomorrow. I shouldn’t be gone more than five days,” Raidan promised.
After the matter of Raidan’s investigation of the plague had been decided, the council spent the remainder of the session reviewing the battle plans. The complex logistics of gathering the combined forces of all Alasiri’s fiefdoms were finalized. A plan for provisioning was already in place and supply lines established. The forces themselves still needed balancing and separation into two divisions—one under the command of Sen, the other to be commanded by the prince. The Sendai Home Guard also needed augmentation with additions from the main army. Sen would see to these details later, as the time drew nearer for mustering.
The king and his generals had worked out the final plan over many weeks of intense research and discussion. They had options available to cover all possible scenarios—from the quick defeat and rout of the enemy to a full scale invasion and siege of Sendai itself.
Not a single man or woman on the council wanted to contemplate the possibility that the heart of Alasiri might be invaded, but contemplate it they must. Their duty compelled them to plan for the worst and come up with ways to safeguard the future of the elven people.
Jelena listened attentively at first as each lord gave an accounting of the size and composition of his or her force, but her mind soon wandered. The image of Mai’s face kept intruding on her thoughts, and with a painful start, she realized she now thought more about Mai these days than about Ashinji.
She knew she should look upon this as good and healthy—a sign that she at last felt ready to let go of the past and move on, perhaps to a new love. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of guilt and sadness, even though she realized she in no way betrayed what she and Ashinji had shared.
I promised Mai a speedy answer. That was five days ago. It’s time to end his suffering.
Jelena rose from her chair and moved on silent feet to a small side door that exited into a secondary corridor. Before reaching for the handle, she glanced over her shoulder; no one seemed to have taken notice of her departure. She pulled on the handle and the door swung open on well-oiled hinges. She slipped through and hurried away.
The Longest Night
"Tilo, there you are!” Brother Wambo scurried toward Magnes from across the sun-dappled courtyard, skinny arms waving. Magnes waited for the elderly healer to catch up before he continued on his way to his dispensary. “Fadili told me of what has befallen your slave friend. I am sorry,” Wambo offered in his thin, reedy voice.
Magnes nodded in thanks. “I was just on my way back to the de Guera yard to check on him.”
“You look terrible, Brother,” Wambo observed. “I daresay you could use a meal and a nap.”
Magnes grimaced as he pushed his fingers through his unkempt hair. “It’s been a rough night. When I left him this morning, my friend still lived, but that was several hours ago. I’m very worried. The worst of his wounds is quite deep. The knife pierced clear through the muscle layer and entered the body cavity.”
“Eeee…Not good!” Wambo shook his head in dismay. “Your friend will most likely die, I’m afraid. Such is the fate of most arena slaves.”
A momentary flash of irrational anger tightened Magnes’ chest.
Ashi will not die! I won’t let him!
he wanted to scream, but instead, he reined in his emotions, then stopped in his tracks and regarded Wambo thoughtfully.
“Brother, do you remember discussing with me a plan to provide medical care to some of the outlying suburbs and villages around Darguinia?”
“Yes. You wanted to outfit a wagon as a traveling clinic. I thought it was a good idea; I still do. Anything we can do to combat the woeful levels of ignorance and superstition in the general populace is a good idea. Why do you ask?”
“I’ll talk to you about it later. Right now, I’ve got to get back to the de Guera yard.”
Wambo shrugged. “Eh, suit yourself, though I think you should eat something first. Good luck.” He shuffled off, sandals slapping against the hard-packed clay of the courtyard.
Magnes continued on his way to the dispensary, intending to pick up some supplies before heading out. The traveling clinic idea hadn’t been entirely his own. A suggestion by Fadili had planted the seed in his mind, and at first, the idea hadn’t involved anything nearly as elaborate as a specially outfitted wagon. But the more Magnes had mulled over the details, the more he had been convinced of the merits of a wagon, and he knew just the person to finance the venture: Mistress Armina de Guera.
For years, the mistress had suffered from headaches of such ferocious intensity, they had left her completely debilitated when they struck.
The first day Magnes had come to her yard, several months ago, Mistress de Guera had been in the throes of agony, laid low by her head pain. His honey-sweetened tea of skullcap, ginger, willow bark, and valerian root had eased the pain and gained him an extremely grateful patron. Magnes felt certain the lady’s ongoing gratitude would insure a swift affirmative to his request for money.
The irony of the whole plan lay in the fact that the very wagon the good lady financed would carry two of her slaves to freedom.
After packing a supply of fresh bandages and some packets of herbs he would need to treat Ashinji’s wounds, Magnes started out for the arena precincts. The late afternoon sun shone through shredded clouds, blown apart by stiff spring winds.