Vassal of El

by Gloria Oliver

  Larana drew a sharp breath, stiffening for a moment, but then totally gave in. In only moments, she fell asleep against him. Torren surprised himself by finding he didn’t really mind.

  After a short while, he maneuvered her into his arms and carefully stood up. She didn’t stir. Unsure as to exactly where he was going, he ventured out, trying to find them at least a partial refuge out of the rain. The best he was able to do in the darkness was a thick stand of bushes beneath a small outcropping. Doubting he’d be able to find anything better, he set Larana down, half-sitting. He unrolled a mostly soaked blanket and, after sitting down, covered both of them with it. He instantly fell asleep.

  Movement beside him woke him up hours later. Torren opened his eyes to a much brighter sky and no rain. Larana was still sitting beside him, sleepily rubbing at her eyes.

  He got up, glad to see the rain gone, and stretched his sore, tired muscles. The scent of wet clothes and drying leaves clung heavily to the air around them.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he stepped through the bushes and out of their small shelter. Gazing up at what he could see of the sky, he made it out to be about midmorning. He surveyed the area and found nothing out of the ordinary. Only then did he go behind a tree to relieve himself.

  When he returned to the outcropping, he found Larana going through his pack, pulling out a change of clothes. When she dug deeper into the pack for some food, part of her back turned in his direction.

  Where her dress was torn, a flap of fabric draped down over itself, leaving about a quarter or more of her back exposed. Her white skin looked even more so in the light of the sun, except for two identical marks sitting to either side of her shoulder blades. They were both about a handspan in length. Torren had never thought to see them in his lifetime.

  A choking sound issued from his throat as he stood there, staring in total disbelief. Larana heard him and turned around, her face darkening with apprehension.

  “Torren?”

  How? How was this possible? After all this time, all these years! He shook his head slowly, his numbed mind fighting against what he’d seen. Such a thing shouldn’t have been possible.

  “Torren?” Larana, openly worried now, took an unsure step toward him.

  He took a step back, but that was as far as his legs would take him. They crumpled beneath him and dumped him onto the damp ground.

  She rushed forward, reaching out to help him. “Are you all right?”

  “Don’t touch me!”

  Larana stopped, dumbfounded, and pulled back at the unexpected vehemence in his voice. “What’s wrong? Torren, what’s happened?”

  He turned away from the sight of her, putting his face in his hands. He felt hot, cold. He’d not expected this. What kind of farce was this? He’d found her? He leaned abruptly forward, nausea racking through him. His chest hurt. His hands dug into the damp dirt, pulling up the soft matter as he curled them into fists.

  How many times had he fantasized about this moment? In how many of them had he found her and killed her, found her and loved her, found her and killed himself. And now—now to find she’d been with him all this time, with him totally ignorant of whom she really was.

  The irony of it burned him. If not for what had happened the night before, he might have never known. A rough, barked laugh escaped him. He would have never known.

  Almost against his will, his head turned so he could look over his shoulder. There she stood, looking concerned and innocent, the catalyst of his current life, the bane of his existence. A maelstrom of emotions swept through him, threatening to drive him mad. Joy, anger, love, hate, triumph, loss—how could he feel these things all at once?

  “Torren?” Her arms about herself, looking hurt and confused, Larana took a tentative step toward him.

  “Stay back!” He glared at her, his body shaking, a war he’d not expected waging inside him.

  Who would have ever given the scrawny, gangly girl before him a second look? Only the markings on her back spoke of who she really was. Surely, those who’d raised her had seen them, had known. How could they not know? How could she not? Had she been playing with him all this time?

  It took all he had not to accuse her. She didn’t know. He could tell from her voice, the expression on her face. She was as much a victim as he was. Part of him was galled at the thought while another latched onto it as if it were a rope for a drowning man.

  But to have found her! Him, of all people—it would be so laughable if it didn’t hurt so damn much.

  Torren looked away from her, from her innocence, from her concern, from her unknowing guilt, and let out a long shuddering breath. By pure force of will, he made himself rise to his feet, even as everything tried to sway around him.

  “We need to go. They’ll be looking for us.”

  He could feel her eyes boring into him, wanting—needing—some kind of explanation, something, anything to explain his strange behavior; but it was more than he could bring himself to give.

  Without looking at her, he turned around to retrieve his pack, making sure not to get too close. He put it on, though it almost unbalanced him, and turned to go without another word.

  He heard Larana follow him. It made different parts of him cry with joy and despair.

  This scrawny, clumsy girl—even her coloring was wrong. They weren’t normal. The Chosen were fair-haired, blue or green-eyed. But he’d heard of others who’d not conformed to the norm.

  And those who’d raised her had to have known. Even grubs were aware of the general history of the Flyers, even if they’d come up with more horrific tales about them on their own. So, why had they kept her? Had they wanted a child so badly?

  Her ignorance smacked of duplicity on their part—their eagerness for her to hide her strange powers, her almost total isolation from others. Did they just find her or had there been more to it than that? Larana’s story of her last night at home whispered of collusion. But why? Why?

  When he finally called for a break, Torren couldn’t even bring himself to glance at her. He took out food and water and set them out where she could reach for them yet made sure to stay well away. He stared at their meager supplies and scowled. He should have planned for this eventuality better—but then, he’d been a fool for quite some time, hadn’t he?

  “Torren?”

  He stiffened at the sound of her soft voice.

  “We’d better get moving.” He pushed away from the tree he’d been sitting against, getting ready to go. He ignored the fact he’d not given either of them time to eat or rest. He set off, leaving her to scurry up behind him.

  He kept traveling throughout the day and didn’t stop for the night until it was almost fully dark. During what breaks they took in between, Larana didn’t attempt to break the silence between them again. It was just as well. He had nothing he could say.

  Camp was made in a copse of close-grown trees that would keep them out of sight. He handed out Larana’s portion of their meager dinner, stealing only the barest of glances in her direction. Her legs, dress and feet were mud-splattered, damp leaves sticking to her here and there. She still carried her change of clothes, though she’d at least put her vest on, removing her back from view. Her hands shook as she reached for her food, her face looking pale and her eyes red as if she’d been crying. He made sure not to glance her way again.

  Setting out a blanket for her and taking the other, he sat up against one of the old trees and wrapped it about him. He heard Larana lie down, and was about to drift off to sleep when her voice whispered hauntingly to him from the dark.

  “Please, Torren, tell me what’s wrong.” There was a note of supplication in her voice that made him wince.

  “Nothing,” he said, a little more harshly than he’d intended. How could he explain this to her? “Nothing’s wrong. Now go to sleep.”

  “That’s a lie!” The anger and torment in her voice stunned him. “Is there something wrong with me? D
id I do something? I don’t understand what’s wrong!”

  It was more than Torren, in his current state, could take. He straightened where he sat, bunched fists at his side. “And why don’t you? Aren’t you supposed to have the knowledge of the gods? Don’t your strange powers tell you everything you need to know? Isn’t that how you found me in the first place?” He was screaming at her, screaming at her. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t—all of this had been bottled up inside him for too long. “Isn’t this all just some sick joke to you?”

  A tortured sob filled the space between them. “I…I…”

  “I should have just let them have you.” He was horrified at the words leaving his mouth.

  In the darkness, there was a flurry of movement and sounds of crying as Larana ran.

  Torren stood stock-still, trying to identify the way she’d gone. He should go after her. Apologize. But a part of him declared she deserved no better. Let her sleep amidst the trees if that’s what she wanted. She had nowhere else to go. She’d be back soon enough.

  Chapter Ten

  Torren barely slept, his senses on constant alert for Larana’s return. As the sky finally lightened, her empty blanket stared at him accusingly. He glared back at it, almost asking it how it had expected him to find her in the darkness. He would have become completely lost. As lost as she probably was.

  He sat up straight, a jerk of panic and joy coursing through him at the thought. She was a farm girl, sheltered, never been far beyond her home. How much wood lore would her keepers have taught her? Had she changed her mind and tried to come back only to find she had no idea how? His chest grew tight.

  “Larana?”

  He got no response.

  “Larana!” She was gone. She’d finally done for him what he’d been trying to arrange for days. But she had no supplies, no idea where she was, no money. Yes, but she was gone—who she was and what she stood for were no longer his concern. Shame flooded through him at the gleeful notion. She was innocent, no matter who she actually was. She would die out there alone. What would it make him if, after all he’d lived through, he allowed her to perish this way? If he let her die because of his anger, he would be less than nothing. His father would curse him from the grave.

  Moving stiffly, he picked up her blanket and his own, rolled them and attached them to his pack before crouching down and carefully examining the ground. There, close to a large oak, he found an imprint of a small shoe leading away from the camp.

  Anger mixed with dread, all coated with worry. Guilt wore at him as he set out to track her down. His thoughts ran over the events of the night before and informed him yet again he was the cause of this. Larana possessed no idea on what was wrong. She must think him a madman. But how could he explain this to her? How?

  Torren looked for more signs of the girl’s passage.

  He’d been searching for her for so long. Not always consciously, not always willingly, but he had. And not once had he actually believed he’d find her. Now he had and, through his own stupidity, lost her again. What, though, would he do with her? His past wasn’t her fault, no matter how easy it was to blame her for everything.

  Larana’s path was erratic. She’d stumbled often, and he picked up speed as more and more clues of her passing appeared. The path twisted and turned, as if she’d been trying to get back to him but couldn’t find her way. Had she called out for him only to have no one answer? Had she thought him near but tormenting her by not responding?

  The sun stood high in the sky when he finally tracked her down. He found her curled up between the roots of a large tree, a squirrel sitting on top of her as if claiming her for its own.

  He rushed forward, startling the squirrel, who scurried up the tree and out of sight.

  “Larana!”

  He got no reaction as he knelt down beside her. Shame and exultation clashed inside him when she didn’t react. He quickly noticed she was paler than the day before. Her eyes darted beneath closed lids. He tried to push everything inside him away and reached out to touch her, even as part of him insisted he not do so. Her skin was damp and felt hot to the touch.

  “Larana.”

  His hand tingled as her eyes flickered open. Her blue eyes were bright, too bright. “T–Torren?”

  “Yes, it’s me,” he said gently. “You’ll be all right now.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, her cheeks suffusing with color in two round orbs. “Please…please don’t hate me.”

  Torren jerked his hand away, having forgotten about her power. He stared at her, this poor, pitiful girl with no one to depend on but an embittered mercenary. Abruptly, the battle inside him came to a stalemate. With a chill, he accepted she was as much if not more of a victim than he was. It would have to do for now.

  “I–I don’t hate you. This has nothing to do with you. The problem’s mine. It’s not your fault.”

  His words and his attempt at a soothing tone must have told her what she wanted to hear, for Larana closed her eyes and her flushed face began to clear. He shook his head, wondering how, after all this, she could trust and believe in him so easily.

  Removing the blankets, he wrapped her in them and gently moved her into a patch of sun. Digging into his pack while keeping an eye on her, he brought out a carefully wrapped bundle of dried herbs. He sifted through the small stash, mentally kicking himself for not having more. Fighting wasn’t the only thing Sal had taught him. He just hoped the lasa leaves were still fresh enough for what he needed them to do.

  When freshly picked, lasa leaves were potent enough all you needed to do was chew them to get their medicine coursing through your system. Once they’d dried, though, it was normally necessary to boil them to bring the medicine out. Between the heavy rains and the fact they were being hunted, building a fire was something he couldn’t afford to do. Instead, he crushed the leaves into a cup, and using the end of his dagger ground them as close to powder as he could. He filled the cup with the last of their water, hoping that at least it would do more good than harm.

  Larana moaned softly as he shifted her weight to his lap so she was partially sitting up. Gently, he parted her lips and trickled the concoction into her mouth. He felt the muscles on his face relax a little as the girl automatically swallowed. Maybe the fever wasn’t high enough to be beyond the leaves’ power yet.

  Putting everything away, he picked her up in his arms and staggered off. The clouds were starting to look ominous so he needed to find some kind of shelter lest all his ministrations be for naught.

  Arms aching, he finally found an old dead tree with a hole on the side. Setting the girl down out of the way, he knelt and hacked at the opening with his knife to make it bigger. The sky continued to darken. Torren kept gouging out the soft, rotted wood, feeling time slip away.

  The first drops had just fallen when he stopped, his arms shaking from exhaustion. He fell back to the ground, eyes closed. A large drop landed on his nose, the air drenched with threatening moisture. He wallowed in the cool sensation on his heated face but groaned a moment later as he forced himself to get up. Stumbling over to pick up Larana, he scrunched into the broadened hole, sweeping away what termites still fell from the tree’s disturbed carcass. He dragged her wrapped body in after him and pulled her against his chest. He then dragged in his pack to block the opening as much as possible.

  He’d barely gotten situated when the rain started coming down in earnest. It poured for the rest of that day and into the night.

  Chapter Eleven

  Torren’s eyes flickered open as the comfortable warmth covering him moved away.

  The first thing he saw were Larana’s sky-blue eyes staring at him intently from less than a hand’s-width’s distance. The girl looked quickly away, appearing as shocked as he felt at being in such close quarters. A healthier blush than the one she’d had the day before tinted her cheeks.

  Larana shifted nervously, causing him to grunt in discomfort.

  “Go that way.” Trying to poin
t, he kicked out the pack covering the entrance, giving her a way out. She bolted, stepping on him in the process, the two blankets around her going every which way.

  He followed more sedately, his legs screaming as blood flow returned to them. He was forced to sit down outside, grimacing, until the painful tingling subsided.

  When he was finally able to stand without pain, he found Larana perched several lengths from him, watching him closely while trying to pretend she was doing no such thing.

  He was glad to find the torrent of clashing emotions that had so overwhelmed him the day before quieter. At least now he would have some room to think.

  “Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten anything for at least a day.”

  Like a startled animal, she twitched at the sound of his voice, as if not sure what to expect. She stared at the ground a moment; then lifted her eyes, a determined look on her face.

  “I want to know why.”

  “Why what? Why you should be hungry?” He reached for his pack, feeling awkward at the evasion, knowing exactly what she wanted to know.

  She shook her head. “No… why–why you looked at me the way you did. Why you think you’re a joke to me. I wouldn’t even be alive if not for you.”

  “Here.” He held out a portion to her; and hesitantly, she came and took it from him. She didn’t eat, still waiting for his response.

  He wasn’t quite ready for that yet. “We’ll be heading back to Caeldanage. With the rains, I’m hoping most of our trail will have been erased and they won’t figure out where we’re going until it’s too late.”

  Larana nodded, still looking expectantly at him.

  He sighed and looked away, finding her continued blind trust disturbing. She’d thought he hated her less than a day ago, and in some ways she’d been right. But now, though acting more demanding than before, she still didn’t question his decisions. Of course, it might not be trust at all, only the fact there were no other options open to her. He sighed again.