Vassal

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Vassal Page 11

by Sterling D'Este


  The girl pressed her lips together, contemplating. Her glassy eyes flickered over Delyth’s face, searching for something there. “And...You aren’t afraid I will hurt you...again?” Alphonse’s eyes widened even more, as though she was trying to keep the tears welling up from spilling over.

  Delyth’s first impulse was to claim that she wasn’t hurt because she had no physical injury, but she understood what Alphonse meant by the word. There was more than one type of pain.

  “You have not hurt me,” she said. “I don’t think you ever will.”

  The distinction between Alphonse and Enyo was so clear in her mind. Their actions, their personalities, so different.

  “This way, she is less likely to hurt you or me or Etienne. I think it will be difficult to make it to the temple otherwise.”

  ❀

  A single tear slipped down her cheek, and Alphonse hastily wiped it away. “Very well,” she agreed, trying to sound reasonable and brave and… like herself. She mostly succeeded.

  Besides, it wasn’t as if she could sleep in a tent with Etienne—that simply wasn’t proper. And Enyo did seem to have a propensity for harming her friend. Perhaps Enyo knew Etienne was going to do his best to shove her back into whatever damned realms Enyo had come from?

  It would be safer for everyone if Alphonse shared her tent with Delyth. Perhaps they could keep Enyo from further violence with the warrior standing guard? What a blessing that would be. It was nice to think someone would watch over her, make sure she didn’t wander off to dance naked in a river somewhere under the moonlight.

  Something purred within her at the thought, and Alphonse sighed. “I was joking…” she muttered to the sickness within.

  Glancing at Etienne, she knew he could see the relief and gratitude in her features before she turned to Delyth, and with little warning, flung her arms around the warrior priestess in a tight hug. It was cumbersome as they were both seated and side by side, but Alphonse managed it all the same.

  ༄

  Delyth started in surprise at Alphonse’s sudden hug, but only a beat passed before she returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around the girl’s slender body and pressing her cheek to the crown of Alphonse’s head. Past her, Etienne watched, stiff and uncomfortable, but he said nothing. Perhaps he had seen something in Alphonse’s face that kept him silent now.

  Gods, it had been a long time since Delyth had hugged someone. Had touched anyone at all except in passing. But she pulled away after a moment more, clearing her throat. “We should all sleep. It has been a hard day. And tomorrow, we have ground to catch up.”

  Alphonse nodded and stood up, brushing her skirts out, so any debris or dirt she had picked up fell off. She placed a hand on Etienne’s shoulder before turning to disappear into her— well. Their tent.

  Delyth waited until the rustling of clothing could no longer be heard and stood to follow her. Etienne stood as well.

  “Don’t…” He seemed to struggle with what he meant to say, his voice low so that Alphonse wouldn’t hear. “Don’t overstep. Don’t touch her or hurt her or—or—” He cut off, but Delyth knew what he meant.

  “I’m only here to protect her.”

  She turned towards the tent and pricked a finger on her glittering, folded-steel dagger so that she could ink a protection ward into the fabric of the tent. It was such a tiny amount of blood, but Delyth still moved past it quickly.

  At least now she would wake if anyone entered or left the tent.

  Carefully, Delyth settled herself beside Alphonse, tucking her wings in to take up as little space as possible.

  “Goodnight,” she whispered into the dark.

  “Goodnight,” Alphonse whispered back, her voice warm and faint. It nearly sounded as if she were smiling, if that was possible after such a terrible day. She pulled her blankets over her shoulders tightly and closed her eyes. Quickly, her breathing changed to the slow, deep breaths of sleep, her body limp and heavy beside Delyth.

  It seemed tonight, at least, Enyo would sleep too.

  For some time, Delyth’s eyes glittered in the dark while she listened to Alphonse’s breath even out. Finally, after she was sure the girl was well and truly asleep, she allowed herself to drift off.

  ⥣ ⥣ ⥣

  * * *

  Excerpt from the Journal of Etienne d’Etoiles

  Fifth Moon of the Year 1819, just south of the Brig’ian Mountains

  It has been ten days since Alphonse and I began traveling with the priestess, Delyth, and though I still believe that the decision to keep in her company was hastily made, I cannot deny that she has been useful. The three of us have fallen into a routine of sorts, based around keeping Enyo sated and out of control.

  While the process of discovering those factors most likely to bring Enyo to the forefront has been arduous in extreme, I feel as though we have made decent progress. It helps to think of the Enyo/Alphonse dichotomy in the light of an experiment, to catalog cause and effect for trends. Therefore, I will include, for the sake of easy reference, a list of the factors most likely to bring the Goddess forth:

  Factors

  In Alphonse

  Fatigue

  Hunger

  Fear

  Impressive Scenery

  These, of course, had to be learned through a series of failures:

  The morning Alphonse had cut herself was one such; we did not ensure she slept, and her fatigue provided an opening for Enyo. Another day, Alphonse fell, sliding down a rocky drop off to one side of the road. Enyo showed up, likely due to some effort of self-preservation, and stayed until nightfall. When passing a waterfall a few evenings later, Enyo became overjoyed and threw herself in despite the freezing water. Delyth, of course, followed her. The warrior never stops to consider better options.

  There is little Delyth, or I can do about passing scenery, but we can allow Alphonse time to rest. We can make sure she doesn’t get hungry enough to prompt one of Enyo’s bloody hunting sprees. We can keep her from getting Calamity.

  Knowing this has greatly improved the quality of life on the road, so much so that it has almost begun to feel normal, if not exactly comfortable.

  There is, however, one other development that bears notice. Enyo has begun to speak.

  Though Delyth has regarded this new behavior with unease, I profess that I can consider it in no other light than that of an opportunity. I am going to try to understand the Goddess, if only so that I might have a better chance of banishing her when the time comes. I have and will continue to make an effort to speak to her whenever Enyo is present, though so far, she has not provided me with any information that I did not already know.

  I suppose I will just have to come up with more, better questions. No matter. There is little else to occupy me in this monotonous wilderness—

  Etienne looked up abruptly at a murmured noise from Alphonse. They had been quiet so far, slogging through roads made muddy by the morning’s earnest drizzle.

  She was eerily still for one heartbeat, two… and then she was dashing through the bramble bushes, grabbing dark berries with little care for the long thorns peppered among them. The first fistful was already making its way down her throat by the time Delyth reached her, Etienne on the warrior’s heels.

  “They’re just blackberries,” Delyth said, relief plain in her voice if not in the rigid lines of her face, and Etienne felt himself relax as well. Blackberries surely could not do Alphonse too much harm, even in the quantities she was presently consuming.

  “Enyo,” he started, as that was clearly who he was speaking to, “why don’t you eat and walk? So that we can reach Thlonandras even faster.”

  Perhaps they would be lucky— after all, some days she listened to reason, though other days she would blatantly refuse to do something because it was reasonable.

  He almost sighed aloud when she nodded, and they again resumed their slow journey, Enyo still shoving handfuls of berries into her mouth and Delyth following silently behind. Etie
nne opened his journal again and scribbled a hasty ‘blackberries’ in his factors column, underlining the word several times.

  “My innards are churning,” Enyo complained several minutes later, looking accusingly at Etienne and then Delyth as if they had played some trick on her.

  “Well you did just consume a bushel of blackberries.” Etienne’s reply did little to mollify the Goddess, and when neither he or Delyth could allay her misery, she left Alphonse to deal with the consequences of her gluttony.

  Etienne raised an eyebrow and started a new list in his journal, titling it ‘Factors for Enyo’s Withdrawal.’

  ❀

  Alphonse rubbed a purple hand over her stomach as they meandered up the road, occasionally grimacing at some cramp or stab of discomfort. However chewing on peppermint leaves and sipping water was slowly mitigating her illness. The bird calls overhead were the only sound she’d heard in some minutes, their group having fallen into what she wished was a comfortable silence. Alphonse cast furtive glances between Delyth and Etienne. No such luck.

  Things were still a bit tense between the two of them.

  “Perhaps we should try to get to know one another a bit better?” she suggested aloud, a little smile tracing her purple lips. “I think that could be fun.” Or like pulling teeth. But she didn’t want to walk in silence the entire way to Thlonandras.

  “What did you have in mind?” Delyth’s voice was a bit gruffer than usual, perhaps because of the poor weather that morning.

  “Hmm,” she hummed, tapping one long shapely finger against her lips. “Have you ever played the game, two truths and one falsehood?” It was one that was popular enough at Moxous—perhaps not the most creative of games, though it was a sure way to learn about their companions. “You say two things that are true about yourself, and one thing that is not, and then Etienne and I guess which is false. I’ll start!”

  Etienne looked up reluctantly from his journal, but he didn’t argue, and Alphonse beamed at him.

  “My favorite color is blue. I’ve always dreamt of being a healer, and I hate blackberries…” An easy one, as it was clear which was the lie from her mouth smeared with blackberry juice. She smiled encouragingly at Delyth. “Now you guess.”

  ✶

  Etienne had never really enjoyed these games at school, though they were familiar to him. He had considered them a waste of time when there were undiscovered magics and explanations all around him for the finding.

  Still, he had played with Alphonse a time or two before. He had always had a weakness for her requests, whether it was getting him to stop researching long enough to eat or playing a school game. He sighed and allowed Delyth to answer. Alphonse had made her first go easy for explanation.

  “You like blackberries, evidently,” the warrior was saying. “That one is the lie.”She thought for a moment, her angled face inscrutable, her eyes turned towards the trees.

  “My favorite color is a honey yellow,” she started. “I have led the dances for my people’s Fall Solstice Celebration, and I have never been in love.”

  Etienne snorted. It was too easy. Everything about Delyth was in dark, brutish tones, so he doubted her favorite color was a shade of yellow. “The first one is the lie,” he announced.

  “No. You lose.” She smirked.

  “Delyth, you were supposed to let me guess as well. Now I know that yellow was not your falsehood.” While Alphonse’s tone was chiding, she was smiling too much for it to have any weight. “I shall guess that you have never led the fall dances. Because dancing in front of a crowd of onlookers sounds terrifying?”

  “Well, I will let both of you guess next time. Still, it did not help you, bykhan.” Delyth was obviously enjoying the game, having stumped both her companions. “The last one is the lie.”

  Alphonse smiled encouragingly at the warrior. “Try again, I’m certain we’ll get it right this time.”

  “Hmmm, very well. I grew up within the temple I serve, my favorite food is baked apples, and I have always known that I would wield the sword of Enyo.”

  Etienne shrugged. “I’m not going first this time. Alphonse?”

  “Baked apples?” she guessed without waiting, clearly having a good time.

  Etienne couldn’t see how anyone could know that they would have to wield the sword of a Goddess if that Goddess was banished. Enyo’s reappearance had been entirely accidental. “It’s the last one, isn’t it?” he asked, though with a little less bravado.

  Delyth nodded. “You get to go then?”

  Etienne wondered for a moment. Alphonse knew everything about him, or nearly. They had known each other half their lives. How was he going to think of something she didn’t know?

  “Ummm… I cast my first spell at age three, I have four siblings, and I have never broken a bone.”

  ❀

  Alphonse remembered the broken, bent finger she had healed a few weeks earlier.

  A finger her hands had snapped.

  “I’ll let Delyth guess first since I’ve known you for so long,” she murmured, determined not to let the vivid memory of his pleading for her to fix that broken bone darken the game. She was supposed to be learning more about her companions. She was supposed to be fostering goodwill and— and comradery.

  “Hmmmm, is it the first one?” Delyth asked. “Three years of age seems terribly early to cast a spell.”

  Perhaps Etienne had not meant to give two lies. Something about the childhood game must have brought him back to childhood answers. He had not broken any bones before he met Enyo.

  “I think you’ve only three siblings,” she offered, giving Delyth an apologetic smile.

  Etienne nodded, relief plain in his face.“That makes it your turn, Allee.” He was smiling at her more freely than he had in days, his face open and uncreased. Likely because she had not called out his mistake.

  Alphonse glanced up at the sun, still high enough overhead. They’d walk another hour or two more. “Alright. My family wanted me to devote my life to Mother Agathi—she’s a Goddess in Ingola. She attests that gentleness and piety are the best paths to happiness and a full life.” Alphonse added, uncertain if Delyth had heard of the Goddess before, amber eyes flickering her way with the unspoken question. Mother Agathi must seem rather pathetic to a warrior like Delyth.

  Alphonse actually found herself blushing.

  “I have a betrothed back home, a farmer named Henri. His family owns the farm next to ours. They grow very lovely peaches.” Alphonse swallowed hard, remembering how sweet the peaches back home had been.

  “And… when I was quite small, perhaps five or six years of age, my father had to give me seven lashings with the switch for disobeying his order to kill a chicken from our coop and bring it in for supper. Mother Agathi teaches us that disobedience to one's parents is disobedience to her, since she is the Mother of all. It was my father’s duty to teach me quickly and surely that such behavior would only lead me down the wrong path. Loyalty and obedience—” She cut herself off. They understood, and she didn’t want to preach.

  Alphonse had deliberately picked things about her childhood and past that Etienne might not know about her. They often did not speak of her family, and she wanted the game to be fair after all.

  ༄

  Delyth had never heard of Mother Agathi before, but she thought that it might explain Alphonse’s conservative dress. Though perhaps not her gentleness. The warrior thought that was something of her own.

  She wasn’t sure why Alphonse blushed about the Goddess. It's not like she could help the faith she was raised in. Delyth blinked. That… was true. You could not choose the people you were born—or given to. She shook her head and kept listening.

  The warrior did not know Alphonse well enough to know which of the three statements was false, but she did know which she hoped was false.

  “Is it the second one?” she asked. Something in Delyth didn’t like the idea of Alphonse betrothed.

  Etienne had pressed his brows
together, as though this one was a difficult one for him as well. “I’m going to go with the third,” he said

  She snorted, or rather as close as Alphonse came to snorting. More like an exhale through her nose loudly. “I’m very good at this game, as I have just stumped you both. My sister, Sephonse, was destined for Mother Agathi. I was never good enough to be considered.” She did seem a bit forlorn about that. “As winner, I declare you must each make dinner one night this week.”

  Delyth blinked at Alphonse in some surprise. That meant that she was betrothed. To some peach farmer in the soft country of Ingola no less.

  Gods, why was that annoying? It wouldn’t change their quest.

  “Alphonse, you never told me you were engaged.” Etienne was clearly startled, something that Delyth found satisfying. She wasn’t the only one taken aback.

  “It’s not a love match, obviously,” she said offhandedly. “My parents sent me to become a healer from Moxous, our town will need one when Healer Rone passes, and Henri’s parents own the largest farm in the area. They produce crops for most of the neighboring villages, as well as our own. It was decided before I left for Moxous that when I came back, we’d be married. To strengthen the community.

  “I haven’t seen or spoken to Henri since I was eleven… He can’t write so…” She shrugged. “No love letters. It’s common practice, Etienne, don’t look so shocked.”

  Delyth snorted. “You Ingolans claim that the people of Thloegr are barbarians, but even I can write,” she said, just a bit too chipper. “Besides, I won a round too. Only Etienne should have to make dinner.”

  ❀

  Alphonse made no comment on Henri’s ability to write. Her village was poor. His family needed him to work. Had she not been chosen for Moxous, she could have very well been much the same as Henri.

  Instead, she shook her head.

  “Enyo doesn’t like Etienne’s cooking,” she proclaimed, a smile lighting her eyes even though she tried her best to keep her face solemn.

  “Are you sure it's Enyo that doesn’t like his cooking?” Delyth’s voice was lowered slightly, conspiratorial as she smiled down at Alphonse

 

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