Vassal of El

by Gloria Oliver

  “Ah, there you two are.”

  Torren turned toward the voice and found the caravan’s manager ambling toward them. He gave them both a half-grin.

  “Been hearing good things about you two. Heard you’ve been doing your proper share. Also seems the young lady is quite good with the animals. Hope you keep up the good work.”

  “Thank you,” Torren replied. Larana nodded her concurrence, a shy smile on her lips.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you to turn in. We should be getting a pretty early start in the morning. Goodnight.” The manager nodded to them and headed off toward one of the other fires.

  Chapter Nine

  The group had no problem that night or the next day. On their third day from Caeldanage, they reached a small garrison town much the same as the one where Torren and Larana had met Gimmel and his family. The caravan converged on the town’s inn, filling it to more than capacity.

  Almost as if following a ritual, the caravan manager, the owner and the security chief all congregated around the innkeeper and questioned him for information on what they might expect nearer the border. Torren stuck close, trying to overhear; and a lot of what he heard was much the same as the rumors already circulating in the south. Even this far north, no one appeared to have any real idea of what was going on, aside from the confirmed strange movements of men and supplies.

  But even those didn’t seem to point out which side was responsible. The innkeeper did add the men of the garrison were drilling more than usual; and they, like everyone else, were tenser than normal. None of this eased the nerves of the caravan’s owner at all.

  “It just can’t be all true, really,” he said. “I’ve been trading with Galt for half my life, and while they’re a strange bunch, they don’t look for trouble more than anyone else. It can’t be them that’s causing all this turmoil.”

  He didn’t look convinced of his own words.

  “Who knows what motivates nomads?” The innkeeper polished the table he was sharing with the three men. “They worship the same gods we do and then some, but not the way we do it. You can’t trust people like that. Flyers are just as bad, if not worse, sticking to only one god as if only theirs was important.”

  The owner suddenly looked troubled. “Don’t at least two of their islands cross over the border at this time of year?”

  “Yes, I believe that’s right,” answered the innkeeper. “And there’s one over in Caeldanage, I heard.”

  “No telling which way the Chosen would go if war did break out,” the security chief mused. “They might be just as happy if we all killed each other and they got to take over everything left.”

  Torren stopped listening as the conversation devolved into a general gripe session, instead nursing a mug of ale at the corner table, pondering the lack of information and the growing paranoia.

  “Well, sir, might you be wanting a refill?”

  He glanced up, not having noticed the woman approaching. “Yes, thank you.”

  She looked to be only a few years older than he and, from the cut of her bodice, knew how to display her finest attributes to their fullest potential.

  Rather than take his glass to fill it, the barmaid leaned toward him, exposing even more of herself to his gaze. During the whole operation, her hungry eyes never left his.

  “You’re different from the kind we normally see around here.” She roamed her eyes over the rest of him with definite approval.

  He had a hard time breathing for a moment, slightly overwhelmed by the view. He’d been with women, though rarely, and only when his urges couldn’t be appeased any other way. The thought of an accidental child resulting from a mild dalliance bothered him more than he was usually willing to admit. And even if he were so inclined, this time he wasn’t alone.

  He’d have to put a stop to this before she got the wrong impression.

  “Yes, well—” He didn’t get any farther as suddenly Larana came at him from the side and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Brother! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  He threw her an askew glance, wondering what she was up to. It was almost as if he wasn’t there, though, as she smiled at the barmaid.

  “Hello.”

  “Uh, hello.” The woman didn’t seem quite sure what to make of this.

  “Keri!” The inn’s owner waved at her. “Our guests need refreshments over here.”

  “Uh, excuse me.” The barmaid threw Larana one last puzzled look and went to the other table. The moment she turned away, Larana let go of him.

  “What was that about?” He rubbed his neck where she’d held onto him just a little too tightly.

  She turned to look at him, all innocence and smiles. “Nothing. She just didn’t seem like someone we want to get to know.”

  With no more of an explanation, she skipped away to talk to the cook.

  Shaking his head, Torren turned back to his drink. As he sat there, he slowly became uneasy. He studied the innkeeper, his helpers, anyone he didn’t know with increasing suspicion. Too many unexplained things had happened of late and so much of the information he possessed was vague. It felt as if he were wading through a quagmire, unknown pits waiting for him to fall into them.

  The temptation to just up and leave and get lost in the forest nagged at him, but he couldn’t make himself give in to it. He had no obligations to this girl. He’d already done more than his share. Yes, she was an innocent, but so much trouble clung to her. Right now, she had a job, a place she belonged. It would be so easy just to slip away.

  “Torren?”

  He startled, surprised as he realized Larana was next to him. Her large eyes searched his, worry tinting her features.

  “Is everything okay? I didn’t make you mad before, did I?” she asked.

  He felt suddenly ashamed for his previous thoughts. “No, everything’s fine. Why?”

  She looked away, her cheeks coloring slightly. “You…you were frowning a lot harder than usual.”

  She shyly glanced at him again, trying to gauge his reaction.

  He forced himself to smile. “Great, now you’re starting to sound the same as Sal.”

  “He really cares for you.”

  Torren stared, realizing she was serious. “I suppose so. We worked together for a number of years.”

  Sal was also one of the few people he’d ever allowed himself to get close to.

  “Do you think he’s all right?” Larana looked as if she were half-afraid to hear the answer.

  “Sal’s a survivor,” he told her, “and he loves a good fight. I’m sure he’s fine.”

  That evening, everyone in the caravan got the luxury of taking a warm bath. Though it should have relaxed him enough so he could fall easily to sleep, Torren lay awake.

  Larana was sharing a room with the cook while he stayed in another with some of the men. His feelings of unease didn’t leave him, but he couldn’t pin them to any particular thing. He was finding it bothered him not to be where he could keep an eye on the girl. Anything could happen to her here, and he wouldn’t know it. Only a freak streak of luck had enabled him to keep her out of the hands of those who’d hunted her over in Caeldanage.

  When he finally did fall asleep, his dreams were filled with moving shadows and unseen dangers.

  In the morning, after what little sleep he was actually able to manage, Torren felt even more tired than he would have if he hadn’t slept at all. To his astonishment, when he made his way downstairs, he found the grinding in his stomach loosening as he caught sight of Larana bouncing around the common room.

  “Good morning!” She gave him a bright smile.

  “Good morning.” He sat down at one of the tables and let her serve him breakfast. “Been up long?”

  “Not long. I was helping Bess get things ready.”

  “Larana, let’s go.” The cook came out of the inn’s kitchen, a number of empty bags thrown over her shoulder.

  “Co
ming!”

  He reached out for her, grabbing her arm. She glanced back at him, looking shocked.

  “Where are you going?” He forced his hand to relax when she flinched in pain.

  “Cook wants me to help her pick up supplies from the general store. They were going to open up early for us. That’s all right, isn’t it?”

  He felt a tingle of fear come from her where he touched her skin. He let go of her arm, feeling like an idiot for making her feel that way. “Yes, it’s fine. Go ahead.”

  Larana stared at him a moment longer, unsure, and then rushed to catch up with the cook, almost tripping in her hurry.

  He gulped down the rest of his meal, not tasting much of it. Calling himself an utter fool, he stood up to follow them. Nothing would happen to her here. By the gods, there was a garrison across the way! His steps didn’t slow.

  The sun was just cresting the horizon in a bright orange ball as he stepped out of the inn. Briskly, he turned left and headed off in the direction of the general store. When he got there, he found one of the caravan’s mules tied to the post outside, a number of empty saddlebags draped over its back.

  Torren’s brows drew together as he spotted a horse tied to the other post. The well-oiled saddle and the high quality of the animal screamed it wasn’t one of theirs. What was it doing here? Only the caravan had taken rooms at the inn last night.

  He turned where he stood, for the first time taking a good look at his surroundings.

  Back toward the inn, voices rose and fell as the caravan crew started the slow process of getting ready to move out. The garrison appeared quiet, though he could see several guards stationed on the short watchtower’s roof. The market area beside it, small compared to the one they’d been in before, was empty. The only thing out of the ordinary was the well-bred horse.

  His hand itched, wishing he’d had the sense to retrieve his sword before coming out here. His knife was still in his boot and would do in a pinch, but he would have felt better with the familiar weight of his blade at his side.

  Stepping under the store’s awning, he opened the door. Larana’s easy laughter brought him to a stop before he actually stepped inside.

  “You’re going to have to show me how you do that!” a robust voice said from the back. “I think you’ll be coming with me when I do my shopping from now on.”

  A moment later, he spotted the cook and Larana as they came down the aisle toward the exit.

  “Torren!” Larana stared at him in mild astonishment.

  “Ah, just what we need, a sturdy man,” the cook said, grinning. “You’re just in time to help us load the mule.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she handed him the filled sacks she was carrying and returned inside for more.

  “Torren, is something wrong?” Larana asked quietly.

  He forced himself to stop trying to spot the horse’s owner inside the store and turned to look at her. “Everything’s fine. Just making sure it stays that way.”

  Her eyes seemed troubled, but she said nothing further. Instead, she helped him pack the supplies away on the mule.

  On the way back to join the rest of the caravan, Torren glanced back once but still saw no sign of the horse’s owner. Once the caravan was ready and set off, however, he noticed the horse was no longer anywhere in sight.

  The day was pleasant, non-threatening banks of clouds cutting back the heat of the day and a cool breeze whispering down the road. He noticed none of it. His gaze darted from tree to tree, looking for something he never found. All he could think about was the well-bred horse and its elusive owner.

  By the time evening arrived and the caravan came to a stop, Torren was feeling surly and sore. The nagging sense that something wasn’t right had persisted all day, and he’d been unable to do anything to dispel it. He fumed in silence; and after taking one look at him, Larana handed him his dinner without a word and watched him with wide eyes from across the fire.

  When the sounds of hooves came from the highway just about the time everyone was going to turn in, he wasn’t surprised, though it did make his blood run cold. He’d purposely picked their pit as close to the line of trees as possible just in case of this eventuality. Now, he packed what few of their possessions were out, his eyes locked in the direction of the road, as several of the guards got up to see who was traveling so late.

  “Larana, let’s go.” He grabbed her wrist, not looking at her, all his attention focused on the highway. By the light of the fires he could tell at least four riders had arrived, and they were speaking to the caravan’s owner. He couldn’t see them clearly through the gloom and the people moving up to take a closer look, but he didn’t need to. The glint of metal he’d seen as the riders came close was all he needed to know.

  “Torren?” A shot of fear tingled up his arm. He barely glanced at her as he led her back to the trees. Once there, he looked back to make sure no one was watching them. All eyes were currently on the caravan’s visitors. With any luck, it’d be some time before either of them would be missed.

  The darkness within the trees swallowed them whole. He led Larana deeper, trying to be as quiet as possible. He was starting to relax, thinking they might have gotten away before they could be discovered and cornered, when a dark figure suddenly stepped out from behind a large tree.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Torren’s hand fell to his sword hilt as he yanked Larana behind him with the other. “Get out of our way.”

  Where there was one there could be others. They’d planned for them to try to escape. He slowly drew his sword from its sheath.

  “We have no quarrel with you.” The gruff voice shifted forward. “We only want the girl.”

  Torren tensed, feeling time slipping through his fingers, but reluctant to attack just yet.

  “We’re willing to pay for her,” the man added. “Name your price.”

  He felt Larana press up against him, her body shaking.

  “I won’t tell you again—get out of my way.” He stepped forward, his sword held at the ready.

  “Have it your way.” The soft sound of metal rubbing leather whispered as the man pulled out his own blade.

  Still several paces from his target, he crouched, ready to go to battle, when Larana suddenly gasped out behind him, “Torren!”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the panic in her voice, and that’s when his opponent chose to pounce. Torren spotted the movement from the corner of his eye and, at the last moment, was able to block the deadly arc of his opponent’s blade as it swung down for him. Behind him, he glimpsed another form trying to take Larana captive as she kicked and clawed to remain free.

  His reach was shorter than his opponent’s so he dropped back, acting as if he were unsure if he could best him. Taking his action as fear rather than the calculated move it was, the man lunged. Dodging, Torren found an opening as he overextended himself, and thrust his easier-to-wield blade under the other’s guard. Like a snake striking, he slipped it just beneath the line of his opponent’s leather chest guard.

  There was a moment of resistance, and then the blade entered smoothly, warm blood shooting out over its length.

  Torren drew his arm back, backing out of range, barely catching the shock on the other’s face before the man doubled over in pain and collapsed onto the dark, leaf-littered ground.

  Swinging around, he spotted Larana as she bit her attacker’s hand and slipped out of his grip amidst heavy cursing. She’d almost made it out of reach when the man lunged for her and grabbed the back of her dress. There was a ripping sound as she was yanked back onto the ground with a thump.

  Her attacker stood over her, fist raised, when Torren slammed the hilt of his sword right into his face. The man’s nose crumpled in a spray of blood, his head rocked back by the force of the blow. He fell like a sack of grain to the ground and didn’t rise again.

  Torren grimaced as he slipped his sword back into its sheath uncleaned before bending down and helping Larana to her
feet. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, her breathing fast, her ripped dress half-falling from her shoulders. He took her hand and found it cold, confusion and fear flashing from the touch. He wiped a stray drop of blood from her cheek as he looked into her face, trying to confirm she was all right. Her frightened eyes sought his and seemed to calm down right away.

  “We have to get out of here. Are you up for it?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  Leading her away, skirting as far as possible both of the bodies, Torren penetrated deeper into the darkness, impelled by thoughts of pursuit. The two of them ran through the trees as fast as they dared, both keeping their senses alert for other unwanted strangers. The clouds that had caused the day to be so pleasant thickened and darkened; and soon a thin mist, which then turned into a curtain of water, came down on them.

  Though soaked to the skin, he was very grateful for the rain. If this group possessed as good a tracker as the last, rain was their best hope of losing them. It should make the tracker’s job almost impossible. He felt himself grinning at the prospect. At least one thing was going their way.

  A blurred amount of time later, Larana stumbled and fell with a cry behind him. Torren stopped, turning around to wait for her, this not being the first time.

  Larana crawled shakily to her feet but then almost immediately collapsed. He rushed to her side, worried for her.

  “Are you all right?”

  She didn’t look at him, the rain dripping off her as she struggled once more to rise. This time he was able to catch her as her legs gave out.

  “I’m sorry.” She looked up at him, her eyes dark, her expression miserable. Exhaustion oozed from every part of her.

  He frowned, realizing she’d valiantly kept up with him without ever saying a word. “Let’s rest for a minute. Then we can look for somewhere to hole up for the night.”

  She nodded, her body going limp as he set her down gently onto the muddied ground. He sat next to her, not far from her own level of exhaustion, the rain streaming off his face and hair. Without thinking, he brought her close, trying to shelter her with his body.