Griffin's Daughter Page 5

  “How do we know that they won’t try any more land grabs? Perhaps use Portanus as a base to invade further south?”

  The duke shook his head. “They may be lacking souls, but they are not lacking intelligence, Thessalina. They don’t have nearly the troop strength to mount any kind of invasion. They may not even have enough to mount an effective defense.”

  “Yes, there are a lot more of us than there are of them,” Magnes pointed out. “I think they just want us to leave them alone. And I don’t believe that myth about them having no souls.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t,” Thessalina commented sarcastically, the unspoken meaning behind her words clear.

  “You and Father really should treat Jelena better. She is our family, despite both of your efforts to deny the fact,” Magnes said angrily.

  “Oh, not that old song again. It is sooo tiresome!” Thessalina rolled her eyes and heaved an exaggerated sigh.

  Magnes could feel the pressure of fury building within him. “You are such a bitch sometimes, Thessalina!” he lashed out.

  “That’s enough!” the duke barked. “Magnes, you will not speak to your sister in that way. She is a lady, and you will treat her with respect!”

  “Sorry,” Magnes muttered grudgingly, but the hard look in his eyes warned of his enduring anger.

  “Now, then. I have some news for you, Magnes,” the duke began. “As you know, we’ll be hosting several of our neighbors at this year’s feast. Duke Leonus of Orveta will be attending. He’ll be bringing his daughter, uh…” the duke massaged his temples in an attempt to coax the girl’s name from his memory.

  “Lowena,” Thessalina supplied.

  “Lowena, yes. The girl just turned sixteen a month ago, and Leonus has made me an offer. He has agreed to a match between you two, as long as agreeable terms can be reached. I have graciously accepted on your behalf. You will be meeting your future bride tonight.”

  “What?” Magnes cried.

  “Oh, no, Father, not Magnes, too! You can’t be serious! I’ve seen that girl. She’s a simpering little twit! You can’t make Magnes marry her, any more than you can force me to marry that toad Artos!”

  “I beg you, Father,” Magnes pleaded. “I’m not ready to marry yet. Let me…”

  “Enough!” the duke bellowed, slamming both hands down hard onto the desk top. “You are both my children, and you will obey!You will marry whenI say, and whomI choose! Your wishes have no bearing on the matter. This is business, by the gods!” Both Magnes and his sister stood silent, he with his arms hanging by his sides, she with hers folded tightly across her breasts.

  “Magnes, the deal is as good as done. Our family stands to gain handsomely by joining with Orveta, so you’d better get used to it. As for you, Daughter, Lord Artos hasn’t given me an answer yet. He may not accept my offer. I am sure he has heard the stories of your legendary temper, and he may not wish to take on such a willful wife as you’d be.”

  “I pray that’s so, for his sake,” Thessalina muttered under her breath. The duke acted as if he didn’t hear his daughter’s last comment. He began to gather up the papers he had been working on, stacking them into two neat piles. The room grew very still. A log collapsed in the hearth with a loud pop. The faint sounds of laughter and shouting drifted up from the yard through the high, narrow windows, open now to let in the fresh air.

  “Is there anything else to report?” the duke asked Magnes, not bothering to look up at his son.

  “No, Father. May I go now?”

  Teodorus waved his hand in dismissal.

  “I’ll come with you,” Thessalina said.

  The joyful mood engendered by his morning’s work had completely dissipated, to be replaced by one of almost unbearable sadness. All of Magnes’s hopes and dreams for a simple life were being consumed, destroyed on the pyre of his father’s ambition. Thessalina followed him out of the study and closed the door behind them.

  As Magnes turned towards the staircase, Thessalina reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Magnes, wait,” she said. He turned back to face her. “I’m sorry for what happened just now,” she began. “Despite our different beliefs, you are still my brother, and I love you. Father is thinking only of his purse, not of your happiness, or of mine.”

  Magnes sighed. “What are we to do, Thess? Is there no escape?”

  “Well, I’m going to go change out of these clothes. I’m sure I must reek of horse. I was out breaking that new Raks’sh’Am stallion Father bought me last week, when Horsemaster Nolus came up to congratulate me on my upcoming marriage to Lord Artos! Imagine my surprise, since it was the first I’d ever heard of it.”

  Magnes laughed. “How do the servants always seem to know things even before we do?” he said.

  “Huh!” Thessalina shrugged her shoulders by way of an answer.

  “I think I’ll go up to the top of the wall awhile, to clear my head,” Magnes said. He had a lot to think about.

  “I’ll see you later, at the feast.” Thessalina turned and headed off toward the staircase leading up to the third level where both she and Magnes had their private quarters. Magnes went down and out of the keep, back across the yard, and up the narrow stairs to the battlements atop Amsara Castle’s curtain wall.

  Up here, so high above the earth, peace and quiet reigned. Magnes could look out and see the whole of Amsara, or so it seemed. At the base of the hill upon which the castle stood, the small cluster of houses and workshops that made up Amsara village nestled. Below the village, the fields and orchards began, spread out like a green and brown patchwork quilt. He placed his palms down flat against the rough stone of the wall, and took in great breaths of the sweet spring air, and slowly, slowly, the anger and sorrow roiling his heart began to settle down to a dull ache.

  “Happy Sansa, Cousin,” a familiar voice said, breaking into his reverie. “We always seem to end up in the same place when we need to think.”

  Magnes smiled. “It does seem that way. Happy Sansa, Jelena.”

  Chapter 3

  The Fire Within

  "By the look on your face, Cousin, I know you need a drink,” Jelena said.

  Magnes laughed. “Is it that obvious? What are you doing up here?”

  “The same thing as you. We both of us need a place to hide once in a while.”

  “That we do. Life is so difficult sometimes.”

  “Just sometimes?” Jelena’s voice was sly and teasing.

  “Yes, yes, I know. I, of all people, really have no cause to complain.”

  The cousins rested their elbows on the parapet and gazed out over the outer wall, watching the horizon in companionable silence. A hawk screamed overhead, held aloft on rust-brown wings. The spring sunshine bathed the backs of their necks and shoulders with gentle warmth.

  Jelena, with her keener vision, spotted the approaching party first. “Look there! Coming up the road,” she cried, pointing to the group of moving specks that soon resolved into a sizable party of both mounted and un-mounted people. The group appeared headed straight for the open gates of the castle.

  “Must be the first of our guests,” Magnes said. He strained to make out the device on the fluttering pennants. “Looks like an azure field, a silver ibex passantwith two six-pointed silver stars. That’s Duke Sebastianus Lucien of Veii.”

  Veii was Amsara’s immediate neighbor to the south, famed for the quality of the horses bred there, second only to the fabled Raks’sh’Am of the southern deserts.

  Magnes nibbled thoughtfully on a fingernail. “You know, Duke Sebastianus was widowed recently,” he said. He turned his head and spat out a nail fragment. “He’s been putting it about that he’s in the market for a replacement wife. The last one failed to give him an heir, even after seven years of marriage.”

  Jelena sighed. “Poor woman. He probably had her poisoned to get her out of the way.”

  Magnes turned to his cousin with a look of feigned shock. “My dear cousin! Such cynicism, and in one so young
!”

  Jelena rolled her eyes.

  “For your information,” Magnes continued, “Duchess Trina died of a fever, or at least that’s the official story. Anyway, he’ll not have much of a selection. Most of the girls of noble families in this area are either already spoken for, or they’re too young.”

  “Maybe he’s come to ask your father for Thessalina,” Jelena suggested.

  “Ha! Not bloody likely. Veii isn’t nearly rich enough for my father to even consider the idea of an alliance between our families. Besides, he already has a husband picked out for my sister, but I’d lay a sizable wager against Thessalina marrying any man not of her own choosing. She’d sooner throw herself off the battlements. Maybe that’s what I should do. My situation’s not much different…” Magnes’s voice trailed off into silence, his face pensive.

  “What do you mean, Magnes?” Jelena asked. She already had a pretty good idea, though, of what he was referring to. She and Magnes had been confidants since childhood, and Jelena knew of his intense love for the chief game warden’s daughter.

  Magnes let out a soft, bitter chuckle. “My father has been very busy matchmaking lately. Seems I am to be betrothed this very night. The lady in question is from an old, very rich family, and this alliance is going to be extremely profitable for both houses. For you see, cousin…” Magnes fixed Jelena with such a look of hopeless sorrow that it pierced her heart and caused tears to start in her eyes, “I and my sister are but pawns to my father, to be used at will, for the maximum benefit of both himself and Amsara.”

  Jelena leaned close and placed her small, slender-boned hand over Magnes’ larger one. She felt powerless to help him, for she had even less status and influence with her uncle than Magnes had. “Magnes, I…” she stammered, but he shook his head and smiled at her.

  “It’s all right, Jelena. I know.” He gathered her into his arms and held her close. He smelled of old leather, musty wool, and horse. “I just wish things could be different.”

  Jelena wished, with all her heart that things could be different as well, for both herself and her cousin. They were each trapped by the circumstances of their births, the courses of their lives dictated, not by free will, but by the mandates of others more powerful than they were.

  After a few moments, Jelena squeezed Magnes hard then slipped out of his embrace. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and straightened her dress. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen. I’m going to catch hell from Cook for sure.” She turned and headed for the stairwell that led down from the wall.

  “It’s not fair how my father treats you, Jelena,” Magnes said. “You should be living as a noblewoman, not as a servant.”

  Jelena turned and shrugged. “I am just a stupid little tink bastard, after all. Isn’t that what everyone has always thought of me?” she replied, matter-of-factly.

  “Stop it, Jelena. Don’t talk about yourself that way,” Magnes retorted angrily.

  Dear Magnes,Jelena thought. You always defend me.“I guess Uncle hasn’t told you yet. I’m to eat with the family tonight at the private feast. He’s even allowing me to choose one of Thessalina’s old gowns, so I won’t look too embarrassing. The best part is he gave me a silver circlet to wear that belonged to my mother.”

  Magnes cocked his head to one side. “You don’t seem all that excited about this,” he commented.

  “Oh, I am. It’s just…” she bit her lip and tugged nervously at a stray coil of hair. Magnes raised his eyebrow questioningly. “Why would he invite me now, after all these years? What’s so different about this Sansa? It just makes me a little scared, is all.”

  “Jeleeenaaa!!!” a voice cried out from the yard below.

  “Oh shit! I’ve got to go!” With a quick wave, she turned and scrambled back down the steep stairs to the yard.

  When she emerged from the stairwell, she saw Ruby, one of the scullery drudges, standing outside the kitchen door, hands cupped to mouth. She was just about to give another shout when she spotted Jelena jogging towards her.

  “Hey, where’ve you been, then? Tryin’ to duck out of your fair share of the work, I’ll reckon, you lazy good for nothin’…” Ruby stood, hands on hips, a belligerent expression twisting her bovine face.

  As aggressive as she was stupid, Ruby had always been one of the worst of the castle bullies. Jelena loathed her with a particular passion.

  “Shut up, Ruby,” Jelena spat as she tried to brush past the other woman.

  “Why, you little tink bitch!” With startling swiftness, the back of Ruby’s hand slammed across Jelena’s mouth, snapping her head to the side. Jelena gasped in shock, and her own hand flew up to her stinging lip, coming away with a smear of blood. The two of them stood staring at each other in silence for several heartbeats.

  Something in Jelena tore loose then; all the pent up rage from years of abuse boiled up from her deepest core and spilled forth in a bitter wave. As it came, it released something else, something completely outside of anything Jelena had yet experienced.

  What happened next left her even more stunned and shaken than Ruby’s unexpected assault.

  A tingling sensation in her right hand caused Jelena to raise it up to eye level. She cried out in fear. Her fingers seemed to be on fire; each digit was haloed with pale blue flames that flowed down her forearm like water, and yet her flesh was unburnt. How could this be?

  Ruby let out a strangled cry and rushed forward. Instinctively, Jelena threw up her hands in defense. The two collided, and a shockwave blew through Jelena’s body, rocking her backwards. Ruby was lifted off of her feet and flung through the air, arms and legs flailing. She slammed into the dirt of the yard with a heavy thud and lay still.

  The blue fire died away.

  On trembling legs, Jelena approached the fallen Ruby, who lay sprawled untidily on her stomach, her skirts flung up around her waist to expose her naked backside. Gingerly, Jelena knelt down and peered into the other woman’s slack face, and breathed a sigh of relief. Ruby was still alive.

  Still reeling from shock, Jelena sat back on her heels and tried to calm her frantic heart.

  What the hell just happened? How did I do that?

  Ruby groaned and began to stir.

  Jelena gently probed her split lip with the tip of her tongue and felt a new wave of anger building within. Quickly, she squelched it. Whatever had happened, whatever this was that she had summoned, she realized that she had no idea how to control it, but Ruby needn’t know.

  The other woman groaned again, then rolled over and sat up, rubbing at her dirt-streaked face. Jelena remained crouched where she was and allowed her face to settle into what she hoped seemed like an appropriately menacing expression.

  “You’d best leave me alone from now on,” she warned, her voice low and dangerous. “I’m through taking your shit!” Ruby’s eyes widened and Jelena saw uncertainty and yes, a little fear within them. Wordlessly, Ruby scrambled to her feet and fled, disappearing through the kitchen door.

  Jelena rose, dusted off her knees, and followed, a wicked sense of satisfaction adding a little swagger to her gait.

  “Girrrrl!!!” Cook shouted as she entered. “Get over here an’ start on them turnips!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jelena answered, her newfound confidence evaporating like frost on a sunny windowpane. She grabbed a paring knife and, seizing a root, began furiously peeling.

  Later that day, when she had a few moments to herself, she sat and turned over in her mind the extraordinary occurrence of the blue flame. What exactly was its nature? What had triggered it? Anger, perhaps? She’d been angry plenty of times before. No, there had to be more to it. Most importantly, could she learn how to summon it at will and control its effects?

  Magic!

  The word whispered through her mind, conjuring up images both seductive and terrifying. Only a tiny fraction of the human race had any innate magical abilities, and those that practiced openly were more often than not shunned or punished for it. Powerful
magic had always been the province of the elves.

  All elves were born with magical abilities—an inheritance from their demon progenitors, or so the priests taught, and because their magic came from the demon realm, it was inherently evil. A favorite bogey of all priests was the elf witch, a creature whose beauty ensnared righteous men and whose magic corrupted their souls.

  Jelena’s stomach clenched with dread. What if Ruby denounced her as a witch to the castle’s resident priest, Father Nath? What would happen to her then? The people of Amsara barely tolerated her as it was, and only because of the very thin mantle of protection her blood ties with the Preserens afforded her. If she were accused of witchcraft, she would be driven out and possibly worse, blood ties notwithstanding.

  Still, the mere fact that she seemed to have inherited at least a little magic from her unknown sire instilled in her a new sense of courage. She decided not to live in fear of denunciation. Ruby was so stupid that no one would believe her anyway.

  Jelena determined to keep the blue fire a secret at least for now, until she could figure out a way to call it forth again. Eventually, she knew that she would confide in Claudia and perhaps Magnes. This was too important a development to keep from them for long. Perhaps, between the three of them, they could figure out what it all meant.

  Reluctantly, Jelena rose from her seat outside the kitchen door and returned to her duties.

  ~~~

  “Well! You are a sight, my lamb. As beautiful as yer dear mam, I reckon.” Claudia stood with hands clasped beneath her chins, a look of pure delight suffusing her heavy features. She gestured with a forefinger in a circular motion, indicating that Jelena should spin around again for a second viewing. The girl obliged, laughing a little despite her attempts to keep a tight leash on her excitement.

  The gown she had chosen consisted of a cornflower blue overdress with a matching pale blue undertunic. Both garments were of silk, and to Jelena, who was used to the rough feel of coarse wool, cotton gauze, or plain, serviceable linen against her skin, the whisper-soft way the fabric glided over her body seemed almost obscenely luxurious. High-waisted, with a tight fitting, scandalously low-cut bodice and a full, slightly flared skirt, the gown had last seen use several seasons ago—out of fashion, but still beautiful, nonetheless. The oversleeves were slit from shoulder to wrist to reveal the fine embroidery of blue flowers that embellished the sleeves of the undertunic. Embroidery also decorated the neckline and hem of the overdress, carrying through the floral motif. Matching blue slippers completed the ensemble.