Vassal of El

by Gloria Oliver

  “As you wish.” The commander’s expression conveyed how unlikely he thought it was an error had been made.

  “We will come as well,” the twins said as one, moving to stand on either side of the ambassador.

  Von Duren spoke, his words laced with command. “Ambassador Rux, do not hesitate to call upon us if we can help in this matter.”

  A number of things seemed to be implied in his words.

  “Thank you for your support,” Rux told him. “But I am sure it won’t have to go so far.”

  The commander looked unhappy at the exchange. “We should go. The council expects our return.”

  He signaled to the other guards, who motioned for Torren to follow him.

  “There’s one thing I’d like to know before we leave here.”

  The commander hesitated, half-turning to look at his prisoner. “What is it?”

  “Has any news on Aen been released?”

  The commander scowled at him, letting him know he wasn’t privy to Larana’s true condition. “You have no need to worry about the Vassal. You’d be best served to spend your time worrying about yourself.”

  He left the room.

  Torren threw Rux a knowing glance as the guards prodded him forward. Something must have happened to Micca. He hadn’t made it through. Torren sighed, realizing they’d been outmaneuvered in more than one way.

  Rather than go out onto the lawn, the commander led the group upstairs and onto the roof. Aen’s Wings sat prominently in one corner but was ignored.

  “You, take him.” The commander signaled to four of his men and Torren was swept off his feet. Two of the Flyers took his legs while two others hooked their arms through his.

  “Wait!” Styn stepped forward. “Place him in the Wings. We’ll take him up. It would be less dangerous.”

  “And allow him to soil it more than he already has? No. His Lander contamination will not be spread to Aen by me.” The commander’s face was set.

  Contamination—so that’s what it had finally come down to. Torren was astonished to discover he was angry. But it was what he’d originally expected, wasn’t it? Why should it matter that it’d taken so long to develop?

  Helpless, wholly at the mercy of his captors, he rose into the air. He tried hard not to look down as the city shrank below him—it was worse than when Micca took him up. The four guards were struggling to rise in unison, but having a hard time of it, giving him the impression he could be dropped at any moment. If they did, he would die. It only made him feel marginally better when he spotted Rux and the twins flying close beneath him, just in case.

  The sun sank below the horizon, its light reminiscent of spilled blood, as if heralding things to come.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The group landed close to the western edge of the floating island; Torren was very glad to have solid ground once more beneath his feet. Surrounded on all sides, he was led deeper into the capital.

  Curious bystanders watched the strange group as they filed past, but no one got too close. They seemed to be headed toward the coliseum and, he assumed, the council chambers beyond. As they came closer, however, the commander’s path didn’t deviate, heading directly to the coliseum. Once in the main entryway, he turned down a smaller hallway.

  Ten armed Flyers sprinkled the corridor, staring at them curiously as they passed, as if they weren’t aware of exactly what was going on. A table had been propped against one of the storage room arches to create a makeshift door.

  Two guards stepped forward to move the table aside only long enough for him to be shoved through.

  “Torren!”

  He looked up and found Micca sitting on top of a bale of cloth. The Flyer’s features wavered between joy and sadness. He quickly leapt down from his perch and untied the ropes binding his hands.

  “Micca, what are you doing here?” There was something else Torren wanted to ask but wasn’t ready for the answer that would surely follow. Larana’s hair clip pulled heavily against his neck.

  Micca let the rope fall to the floor. He would no longer look at him.

  “They haven’t really said, only that it was on the council’s orders.” He looked up, his face filled with torment. “I was almost there. I’d almost made it.” He turned away, fists bunched at his sides, his wings drooping. “I’d just reached Aen’s home when Tyleen rushed out and stopped me from going inside. She was upset. She told me guards had been posted in the house and that they were waiting for me and for you. She was talking so fast I could make out little of what she was saying. She grabbed me and insisted I needed to get away from there.

  “I went on to Tel Mallean’s, hoping she would explain what was going on, but before she got a chance to, guards flooded the house. Chosen I know, Chosen I’ve worked with, treated me as less than nothing and dragged me here. No explanation, no apology. One of them even called me unclean…”

  Torren waited for several heartbeats for him to go on, but he didn’t.

  “So, they have it, then.” It had all been for nothing.

  Micca turned to face him, his face pale. “What?”

  “The vial. They took it from you. Our enemy has won.” He sat down on one of the smaller crates feeling deflated.

  The Flyer’s eyes brightened. “No, they haven’t won quite yet.”

  Torren looked up at him.

  He lowered his voice to a whisper. “They might have gotten me, but not the vial. I was able to slip it to Tyleen before they took me.” Some of the sadness returned to his eyes. “Though I wasn’t able to tell her what it was or how to use it.”

  Torren felt more relieved than he would have thought possible. There was still hope. “It’s not over, then. Good. Now we just have to get out of this.”

  “Did they tell you anything?” Micca asked.

  “Not much.” He got up and started to pace the small, cleared area in the room. “Because Dom Rux was there, though, I was able to find out more than you did. It seems I’m wanted for murder.”

  “What?” The Flyer blanched. “How could they accuse you of such a thing? Who have you supposedly killed?”

  Torren shook his head slowly. “They wouldn’t say.”

  “They couldn’t just fabricate a story. The council would never fall for it.” Micca’s eyes were wide. “So, it means someone has been killed.”

  Torren didn’t add that if it had happened here, as he suspected, it had to have been perpetrated by a Chosen. How much easier it would be to believe it was done by a wingless, tainted Flyer than by one of their own.

  Micca leapt back up onto his previous perch, frowning. “This is very bad…”

  “Yes.”

  Time passed; and Torren paced, wondering when their unknown foe would make a move. Thinking over what few options he might have, he eventually remembered the papers. Since Sal had handed them over, there’d been no chance to really study them.

  Taking them out, he glanced through them, hoping what he needed could be found in there. His life, Micca’s and even Larana’s might depend on whatever he could glean from them.

  He was almost through looking when the answer came to him. “Micca—”

  He stopped as the table was pulled away from the doorway. Micca leapt down in front of him, using his wings as a screen so Torren could quickly fold the papers and put them away.

  The Flyer in golden armor who’d brought Torren in filled the doorway.

  “Vil?” Micca took a step forward. “Won’t you tell us what’s going on? Why are we being accused like this?”

  The cold look the commander gave the young Flyer brought him up short. “It is not my place to tell you anything.”

  “But, Vil, you know me. I’m a loyal servant of El. Why are you treating me this way?”

  “You will allow yourselves to be bound and then taken to face the council.” Vil didn’t look at Micca directly but rather a point past his shoulder. “They will inform you of the details of your crimes.”

  He moved out of the w
ay and signaled for four guards to come inside.

  Torren submitted to having his hands retied, though this time they did so in front rather than the back. It was obvious Vil and possibly a number of the others thought them guilty. But whom were they supposed to have killed? How had it been connected to them? The fact they believed he’d done it didn’t surprise him. Just as in Larana’s original disappearance, it was easier to blame an outsider than face that the deed had been done by one of their own. But Micca?

  Once they were bound, long tethers were hooked onto the ropes. Micca and Torren were surrounded by guards as they proceeded down the hallway to the main thoroughfare then into the coliseum and out the other side, close to the council’s meeting chamber.

  The council chamber doors were closed when they arrived. Two guards split from the group to open them while another tugged on Micca’s and Torren’s tethers to prompt them inside. The cacophony of voices within suddenly turned to uncomfortable silence as they were revealed.

  Torren didn’t look around as they were taken into the center of the wide room. He could already feel their stares, their doubts, their hatred, and didn’t want to see them directly. Only once they stopped did he search for the one face that meant anything to him in this crowd.

  His mother looked worn; her tear-streaked face wan. Her eyes met his and only then did life seem to sparkle in them. She tried her best to smile, to reassure him, but fell far short of the mark. He felt a spark of anger. How dare they put her through this?

  “Tel Valerian, the prisoners have been delivered as requested.” Vil half-bowed to the councilor.

  Valerian nodded his thanks, his expression grave. Micca’s and Torren’s tethers were tied to the leg of a heavy bench that had been set in the central area of the room. The guards then removed to the far ends of the chamber.

  “Councilors, we’ve a most grievous duty this day,” Valerian began. “We must, for the provenance of our people, decide the fate of these two wayward souls.”

  “You’ve already decided our guilt, then.”

  Valerian turned on Torren.

  “Silence!” His voice boomed across the room. “You have not been given leave to speak.”

  He met the councilor’s imperious stare and didn’t back down. “Will we be given leave to speak? You look to have made up your minds regarding us already.”

  “It is not necessary for you to be here during this hearing,” Valerian countered. “It was purely out of courtesy this was allowed.”

  He signaled for the guards to return.

  “But why?” Micca jumped to his feet. “We don’t even know who’s been killed.” He stared out at the council. “Why are you doing this? All we’ve been trying to do is help Aen.”

  To everyone’s astonishment, Valerian rushed forward and slapped Micca’s face. The Flyer went down, not prepared for the blow, as Torren leapt to get between them.

  “Do not dare speak of her, filth.”

  “Valerian!” Mallean was on her feet. “How dare you? We didn’t gather here to do our kind violence, only to try and ascertain their innocence or guilt.” She brought herself under control with effort. “You have shouldered much for us of late, and we are grateful. But perhaps it is time this duty would be best served by another.”

  Valerian ducked his head at her rebuke; and though Torren couldn’t see his face, he could read the Flyer’s rage in every line of his body.

  When he finally did look up, Valerian was deceptively composed. “I appreciate your concern, Tel Mallean, but though I admit I did forget myself for a moment, I promise you it will not happen again.”

  He stepped away from the prisoners and waved the guards back. “The prisoners will remain.”

  Torren helped Micca to sit on the bench. The young Flyer’s face was still filled with shock, his cheek red from the blow. Torren sat down as well, his gaze not leaving Valerian.

  The councilor made an offhanded gesture toward one of the others. “Tell them why they are here.”

  The stout man Valerian called upon stood, not looking in their direction. “You have been brought here to determine your innocence or guilt in the foul murder of one of our own. Yesterday, in the late evening, the… the stabbed body of Elon was found in his home.”

  “Elon?” Micca’s dumbfounded surprise was clear for all to see. Torren felt his anger rise, able to see only too clearly the means that would be used to bring him to an end.

  “Yes, Elon,” Valerian said. “The two of you stand accused of being involved in his death, though only one of you of actually committing it.” His cold gaze met Torren’s.

  “You’re wrong,” Micca called out, once more rising to his feet. “He’s one of us. He wouldn’t do such a thing.”

  Valerian glared the young Flyer down. “The facts will speak for themselves.”

  Torren felt a cold hand steal over his heart, sure of what would come next. Valerian motioned for the other councilor to proceed.

  “After the…body was discovered, Elon’s closest friends and acquaintances were questioned by those empowered by the council. During the inquiry, it came to light Elon and three others met with one of the accused a few nights before, and it wasn’t an amicable encounter.”

  “It was a meeting that resulted in violence, violence perpetrated by you.” Valerian pointed at Torren, his eyes alight. “I myself saw the result of your Lander violence when Elon called on me to explain his absence from the council meeting a few days ago. His face was bruised, but he explained it away as an accident. I see now I should have investigated it further. Especially since he wasn’t seen thereafter, except when it was already too late.”

  His regret was palpable.

  “Tel Valerian, what precipitated the violence Elon’s friends speak of? How are you so sure it was caused by Torren?” A number of the others nodded in approval of Mallean’s question.

  A woman stood up in the back, her eyes filled with fanatical hate. “How relevant can it be? He’s been tainted by grubs. It’s obvious just by looking at him. His Lander clothes, the fact he would not return to the Chosen or his family.”

  Torren cringed inside, this being the first time his reluctance to return had been spoken of aloud.

  “What more reason would he need?” Shocked as well as some approving voices rose at her words. “And now he’s tainted one of us.” She pointed at Micca. “Who knows what he’s done to Aen.”

  “Enough.” Zelene shot to her feet, anger and sorrow on her face. “Endless paranoia will not get us anywhere. El has a reason for all that has happened, and one day He will give us the wisdom to see it. But for now, we should stick to the facts and not conjecture. All I care about is to discover whether my son is being accused of a heinous crime he didn’t commit.” She slumped back into her seat, as if the words drained her of energy.

  Torren felt his anger burn hotter, though he knew it wouldn’t help his case.

  “To answer Tel Mallean’s question, it’s been found Elon and the others met with the accused to do a service for El,” Valerian continued. “They felt doubts as to the accused’s legitimacy as a Chosen and, as servants of El, deemed it needed to be verified.”

  Zelene lowered her head, but her words carried plainly through the room. “What you’re saying is Elon and the others didn’t believe I would know my own son.”

  Icos spoke up then, his lined face looking more so than usual. “Elon was young and impetuous. The young don’t believe their elders on most of what they say. You shouldn’t take offense.”

  Zelene nodded but still didn’t look up. Mallean, however, stood.

  “And how did these young Chosen exactly ask these questions, if Torren’s own account and that of his mother weren’t believed? What would satisfy them, if words already proved not to be enough?”

  Valerian’s brow rose. “Why, it is my understanding they asked to see his scars. What more proof of his true lineage would there be than those?”

  “And did your investigations find whether Torren
let them see them willingly? Or did they take it upon themselves to find out the truth regardless of his wishes?” Mallean’s scowl showed she already suspected the answer.

  “This wasn’t made clear.”

  “Then let’s ask Torren to give his account on the matter.”

  Valerian looked away from her steady gaze. “Even if it was shown the others precipitated the violence, it wouldn’t help him. It would only indicate he owned that much more of a reason to come back when Elon was alone and defenseless to exact his revenge.” He sent his gaze up into the waiting council. “No one in this city, in our nation, would kill one of our own. Only a stranger, one who hadn’t lived with our ways, would do such a thing. Only one raised as a Lander would feel the need for vengeance. Only one raised by them would have the mind to murder, to kill.

  “And he has killed before.” Valerian pointed his arm at Torren. “He has spilled Lander blood, done it for money. How much would it take, then, for him to have gone one step further and kill one of his own? He must be banished from us. His taint must be removed from us.”

  Torren stood up slowly but said nothing, waiting, though he knew, if he could help it, Valerian would never give him permission to speak. Others might, however.

  “He wishes to speak!” Symeas spoke up even as Valerian pointedly didn’t look in Torren’s direction.

  “He will only spin tales to confuse us. What use would it be to listen to his words?” Valerian made this sound perfectly reasonable. A number of heads bobbed in agreement.

  Micca shot to his feet, his wings bunched tightly against his back.

  “I am not a stranger, I wasn’t raised by Landers. I have lived and served El all my life. Will I be denied the right to speak as well?” His gaze was intent. “Will you gag me now and get rid of me only because I dare speak?” He turned his attention to the council, his eyes welling with tears. “How have we come to this? What have we become? Torren has given all he has on our behalf, and this is how we would thank him?”

  “The question more rightly should be what have you become?” Valerian turned his back on him. “Look at him. Do you see how he is dressed? How he is acting? Within only a short time, he’s already become one of those barbarians.”