After two more days of travel, the Fens yielded to drier land and the travelers steered northeast in a direct line that would bring them to Kerala Castle. Everything around him looked familiar; Ashinji felt his spirits lifting.
At sunset, a little over a year after his brother’s betrayal had cast him down into a life of slavery, Ashinji rode across the bridge connecting Kerala Castle to the mainland and halted at the outer gate.
The gate stood shut against the coming night. Ashinji slid off his horse, walked to the postern door and pounded on it with his fist.
After a few heartbeats, the peephole slid open.
“Who goes there?” The voice sounded more irritated than challenging.
Ashinji stepped closer so the guard could see his face in the rapidly failing light. “Tell Captain Miri and Seneschal Iruka that Ashinji Sakehera has returned,” he said softly. The guard let out a startled yelp and the peephole slammed shut. A heartbeat later, the postern door flew open and a pair of excited guardsmen tumbled out. Both men began talking at once.
“My lord! This is unbelievable…”
“You’re alive! We were told you’d been killed…”
“At the Battle of the Saihama Fords! It’s been…”
“At least a year. Lord Ashinji, where have you been all this time?”
Ashinji held up both hands and the two guards fell silent. “Please,” he said in a broken voice. “Lady Chiana and I just need to rest for a while. Then we’ll tell our story.” He indicated Gran, still mounted, with a lift of his chin. “One of you go help the lady, and will the other please go fetch Captain Miri and the seneschal now.”
“Yes, Lord Ashinji!”
“Yes, my lord!”
Ashinji squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, battling a wave of vertigo that threatened to pitch him to the ground. He had never before in his life felt so drained, not even after the times he had survived lethal matches on the sands of the Grand Arena. That kind of fatigue had always left his mind strangely energized; the sheer thrill of escaping death for him acted as a potent mental stimulant. What he felt now seemed something else entirely, as if he had expended all his energy in the effort to get back home, and now had nothing left. He didn’t know how much longer he could remain on his feet and conscious.
Gran came up beside him, leaning on the young guardsman for support. She brushed his forearm with her fingertips and a warm jolt of energy flowed up Ashinji’s arm and dispersed throughout his body. He instantly felt better, but guilt made him turn to Gran and chide her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Gran. You need all of your strength.”
“Don’t tell me what to do with what’s mine, young man,” Gran responded. “If I choose to give away my energy, then I will and you’ve got no say in the matter.” Ashinji saw the tenderness in her eyes that belied the tartness of her words. He sighed and kissed her cheek.
“My lord, please come inside.” the guardsman begged, gesturing toward the postern door.
“Take Lady Chiana and send someone out to get the horses,” Ashinji ordered. “I’ll wait here.”
“Straight away, my lord,” the guard responded. Gran allowed herself to be led through the door, offering no resistance, head bowed, her once firm, determined step reduced to a shuffle. Seeing her in such a state, Ashinji felt equal parts guilt and gratitude pierce his heart like twin thorns.
Ashinji did not have long to wait before another guard, a woman this time, emerged from the postern. “L… Lord Ashinji,” she stammered. “Ai, Goddess, it’s true. You are alive!” She fell to one knee, grabbed Ashinji’s hand and pressed it to her lips. “It was like all our hearts had been torn out, my lord, when word came you’d fallen in battle.” She looked up and smiled. “But now, here you are, alive. The One is truly merciful!”
He placed the horses’ lead ropes into the guardswoman’s hand. “Please, take the horses and see to it they get a thorough rubdown and an extra ration of grain.” He gave each horse a parting slap on the neck as the guard led them away.
Ashinji waited until the horses had passed through the postern before he crossed over the threshold into the lower yard of Kerala Castle. Another guard waited inside to close and bar the door for the night. “Welcome home, Lord Ashinji,” the man said.
Before Ashinji could respond, a familiar voice shouted his name. He turned to see Gendan rushing toward him, sobbing, arms outstretched. Ashinji braced himself as the other man swept him into a crushing hug. For a few precious moments, all considerations of social hierarchy fell aside. They were just two friends, caught up in the sweetness of unexpected reunion.
“Gendan, I can’t breathe!” Ashinji gasped, laughing. Gendan released his grip and stepped back, wiping his streaming eyes and nose on his sleeve. He opened his mouth to speak but only a wordless gasp emerged.
It took a few more moments before the captain mastered himself enough to speak. “Welcome home, my lord,” he said, his voice still rough with tears. He bowed, and with that act, he and Ashinji became once again lord and liegeman. “The lady that rode in with you is in my office. One of my guards is giving her a cup of tea as we speak.” Ashinji began walking and Gendan fell in beside him.
“Thank you, Gendan,” Ashinji replied. “As soon as she’s had her tea, have someone escort her to the keep. She’s just about reached the limits of her strength.”
“Begging your pardon, my lord, but you look pretty done in yourself,” Gendan commented.
“That’s a very polite way of saying I look like shit, my friend,” Ashinji said, grinning. “It’s been a long journey, Gendan. I know everyone wants to know what happened to me and where I’ve been, but right now, all I want is a bath and some sleep.” Gran’s gift of energy had all but dissipated; Ashinji felt a black wall of exhaustion looming over him, threatening to crush him at any moment.
Walking had become an exercise in sheer willpower; his feet felt like iron weights were attached to his ankles. He had to consciously order his legs to swing forward and his knees to lock so he wouldn’t fall. Gendan’s voice faded to a soft buzz, like a distant swarm of bees heard on a hot, summer day. He had to keep focused on walking-
He became aware he now walked amidst a crowd of excited castle folk. Gendan tried his best to keep them from overwhelming their young lord, but they kept breaking past to touch Ashinji with eager hands. He tried to acknowledge their heartfelt joy at his return, but every nod of his head, every lift of a hand, was a monumental struggle.
Gendan escorted him to the Sakehera family’s private bath house and sent in a servant to assist him. After helping to scrub away weeks of road grime, the manservant stationed himself in a corner on a stool, keeping watch while his young lord soaked and drowsed in the heated water.
Ashinji did not realize he had fallen asleep until the servant woke him, then helped him get from the bath house to his own bed. His last thoughts before falling away into slumber were of Jelena and the first night they had spent together in this very bed. He imagined he could still smell her scent lingering on the pillows.
When next Ashinji opened his eyes, the golden glow of the late afternoon sun had set the shutters of his windows ablaze. He rose only long enough to use the chamber pot, then returned to bed where he promptly fell back to sleep and straight into a dream.
The Prince Rides to War
