Tyleen reached from behind to steady her. Valerian hung his head, looking at no one.
“Aen!” Everyone’s attention swung to the Vassal at Tyleen’s cry. Larana was slumped against her.
Before anyone could question what was wrong, Valerian twisted in his captors’ grip and reached for her, a grimace on his face. Torren once more threw himself between them.
“Stop him!”
Valerian hit him hard on the side of the head, making it ring. The councilor then took to the air, a number of others doing the same to try and stop him.
“You can’t leave this room, Valerian, so don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” Rux stood prepared to go after him himself if necessary.
Valerian glanced around him, his features crumbling as he saw all had turned against him. “What she saw is a lie. It never happened. All I ever did was promote our race—for the glory of the Chosen. I only wanted to protect us from the vermin, the vermin that needs to be destroyed.”
“That is not El’s way,” Zelene told him. “And His way is our way.”
“No.” Valerian confronted her, full of desperation. “He made us better than them. Superior to them. But they keep trying to taint us, to bring us down to their level out of jealousy. They can’t be allowed to do this.
“Don’t you realize our dependency on them makes us weak? We are superior. We should be the ones in control, the ones showing them the way. Why must we suffer at their whims when we are so much more deserving?”
Torren watched the councilor weave back and forth, though occasionally he sent a concerned glance in Larana’s direction. The guards were unobtrusively closing in on Valerian. He would soon have nowhere to go.
“We cannot enslave them, Valerian.” This came from Mallean. “Though we at times forget, our people were once Landers. It was Landers who helped El in His time of need. It was Landers who He took and made His own.” Her voice was filled with sadness and pity. “As you’ve shown us, we are still like them in every way. We even have the ability to kill.”
“It doesn’t matter. Can’t you see that? None of it does. We’re good and they’re not and so they must be destroyed.” Valerian slowly floated to the ground. “Look at what they did to him. How they robbed him.” He pointed at Torren. “It is one thing to be infirm, or to lose them due to accident, but to be maimed for sport? They would do to you what they did to him without hesitation.”
Torren shook his head. “No, not all of them are that way. I didn’t want to admit it for a long time, but it’s true. You can’t destroy them all just because a few are evil.” His voice turned hard. “Besides, it was you, a Chosen, who ordered my father and the others killed. This was done to me because of you.”
Valerian flinched at the words.
“So not only is the blood of Elon on your hands, so is the blood of my father and his friends. Any and all who’ve had their lives destroyed because of the Black Lords.”
Here, finally—the true cause of his misery. He felt his anger rising toward rage. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. It hadn’t been the god of the Chosen, it hadn’t been because of Aen. It was because of the delusions of this twisted man.
“You are responsible for everything.”
“Torren, no!”
He stopped, only then realizing he’d started forward, violence on his mind. How did Larana know? He glanced back at her, his hatred barely held in check now that the true cause of his misery was so close at hand.
She was barely sitting up, supported by Tyleen from behind. She looked sad, and very weak.
“He is not well, Torren. When he was very young, he left the embassy, some evil men found him. They—”
“Do not speak of it.” Valerian’s screech echoed through the room. “You will not speak of it.”
The guards made their move.
He saw them coming and tried lifting into the air. Several collided with him, and they all fell to the ground in a heap. A snapping sound filled the room followed by a howl of pain. One of Valerian’s wings now hung askew.
Torren saw something glitter on the ground, and with a sinking feeling realized no one had picked up his dagger from the previous struggle. Almost as if reading his mind, Valerian spotted it and swept it up before anyone could stop him. He gashed one of the guards on the arm and another in the back. The councilor’s eyes grew wide with fear and were clouded with pain.
“Not again, not again.”
Torren and other Chosen now rushed forward, trying to capture the blade. As they groped from all directions, Valerian suddenly screamed in abject terror. One, two, three of the Flyers were lightly wounded before they became too much for him.
The knife was taken from his hand, his arms restrained. Valerian stared at those around him, his eyes filled with madness.
“El does not exist!” His voice was shrill. Several of the guards backed away from him at the blasphemy. “I tried to always keep this from you, to help you, guide you, but he does not exist! And I proved it. For if El did exist, he wouldn’t let his Vassal be hurt, he wouldn’t allow any of us to be hurt.
“But did he save him? Did he show his anger across the sky and smite me? No!” Spittle sprayed from his mouth out into the crowd.
Several of the councilors turned away, holding their hands over their ears. More simply stared at him, stunned.
“If Aen could be killed, if his replacement could be kidnapped, then anything could happen to us! We are too complacent, even as the grubs outnumber us thousands to one! How long will it be before they figure out a way to overrun us, to reach our cities, to hunt us down and eat our flesh? I did what I had to do to assure our survival! I tried to be for you the god we never had!”
“Blasphemer!” One of the guards struck him, driving him to his knees. Valerian cackled with insanity as tears coursed down his face to stain the floor beneath him. Another guard and another raised their hands to inflict further blows.
“Stop!” From out of nowhere, Larana was suddenly at Valerian’s side, protecting him with her body as she swayed on her feet. “This is not the way. This is not El’s way.”
Valerian cackled again, his body slumping to the floor. “He doesn’t exist, he doesn’t exist.”
He looked nothing like the strong councilor all had relied on for so long.
Torren stared at the object of his misery and found he felt almost nothing. In his own way, Valerian, too, had been a victim. He would never forgive him, but he would pity him. Such was the end of the man who’d robbed him of his wings, of his life and the life of his father.
Many of those in the room turned away from the broken man. Some walked aimlessly about, as if too shocked to know what to do. Others stared at Valerian with disgust or anger. He doubted any of those here would survive untouched by what they had witnessed this day.
“Torren.” Larana took a shaky step in his direction, her arms extended toward him, tears running unhindered down her face. Without thought, he closed the distance between them and took her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest, her thin frame wracked with sobs.
“We need to get her out of here.”
Nodding, and looking grateful for something useful to do, Rux took command. “You three, go open the doors. You others take Valerian to the healer’s aerie. Do not let him out of your sight. Everyone else, move outside to the fresh air.”
Torren scooped Larana up in his arms, and with the twins helping him, got her out of the council room. Once outside, he didn’t stop; ignoring everyone and everything, he took Larana home.
* * *
By the time he set her down on her bed, she’d quieted down, though she still clung to him. “Please don’t leave me, Torren. I need you.”
He hesitated, hoping she only meant at this moment. “Don’t worry yourself. I’ll sit here beside you. Just rest.”
Larana inched over, still holding on to him, and made room. He sat down, his back against the wall; and she nestled up against him, dark circles v
ery prominent beneath her eyes.
“I didn’t know men could hurt children that way,” she said in a soft whisper a few moments later. “He hated them so much…”
Torren caressed her cheek, moving an errant curl of hair from her eyes. “Just rest. It won’t help to think about these things any more right now.”
Her dark eyes rose to meet his, her sadness suddenly replaced with something bright. “You did all this, you know. He knew you would.”
He frowned, not sure what she was talking about.
“You don’t believe, but He has always been with you. He couldn’t break the rules set down by the First Mother, so instead He bent them and spoke to you in the only way open to him.” Larana’s eyes closed of their own volition, her voice growing softer still. “He showed it all to me. It was why I didn’t know Him when we found each other. Why I didn’t have the knowledge everyone expected. You were the Vassal then, Torren, not me.”
“What?” He shook his head, sure he’d misheard.
But Larana didn’t respond. Her breaths were deepening, her body relaxing as she fell into a deep sleep. He recalled the words of the First Mother’s priestess, telling him to “fix the Vassals”—plural.
No, he must have heard it wrong. No gods existed, not even theirs; in this he agreed with Valerian. Not once had he seen proof of any of them. In the last weeks, he’d witnessed a number of strange things—Larana’s unusual gifts, the woman Mala, even his own almost prophetic dreams. Things other than godly interference could have caused all of it. Right? Gods were an invention of society. Something to help unify people and give them hope, something to believe in. His past had burned out of him any real belief in such illusions.
Yet suddenly, a few misheard words from this girl had him questioning things he’d long thought settled. It was one more reason why he needed to leave.
Tomorrow. He would return to his old life tomorrow. His mother, Mallean, Micca—the whole of the Chosen population would take care of Larana. And with Valerian exposed, she would be safe. Besides, there were scores to be settled with the Black Lords. He was sure Von Duren wouldn’t mind his assistance in that regard. He might even get involved in trying to explain things to the Galts. Living up there a while might do for a nice change.
Yes, that’s what he would do.
But even in his own mind he didn’t seem as sure this was the right course for him anymore…
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Torren was in the air. The ground was distant and moved beneath him. The wind wove through his hair. Around him was the immensity of the blue, open skies.
A thrill long-forgotten filled him as he turned to face upwards and flapping his wings, feeling the muscles in his back responding as he soared to even greater heights. This was El’s gift, His gift to those land-bound as He’d become when the First Mother allowed Him to become human. This was what El had done for the Chosen.
Gone was the fear he had felt when Micca lifted him into the air, gone was any trace of worry he’d fall. This was what he was; this was what he’d been meant to be. He wrapped himself in his glorious, white wings and dove toward the ground, feeling the truth of this in every fiber of his being.
* * *
He slowly opened his eyes the feeling of belonging, of being, still wrapped about him. Then, like a flame suddenly doused with water, Torren remembered who and what he was, and the reality soured the feeling into bitter loss. He was no longer a Chosen. He could no longer fly. The dream had been of something that no longer existed.
Disgusted his mind could call up such fancy, he realized for the first time Larana was no longer with him. He sat just as he had fallen asleep; but not only was she gone, someone had taken the time to tuck a blanket around him. He was amazed this alone hadn’t wakened him. It would have been better than to dream.
He was still for a moment, trying to listen for sounds of the girl, to see if she was still nearby. Hearing nothing, he realized he truly was alone. It puzzled him, especially after her earlier insistence that he stay.
Getting up off the bed, he pulled the thin curtain dividing the room aside. No one was there. His heart beat faster—surely nothing had happened to her?
Walking more rapidly, Torren went through the linium, still not seeing anyone. As he reached the doorway leading out into the sorium, though, he slowed. Soft music drifted to his ears, as well as a number of voices mixing sweetly with it. From his current vantage point, he noticed all the outer curtains to the sorium were pulled back, opening the area to the outside. The music and voices were coming from there.
Taking a closer look, he saw people crowded up on the house’s steps, making quiet lines, each in turn bowing before taking their leave of the small figure seated amidst a mound of cushions. Tears and smiles of happiness and thanks glistened on the faces of those paying homage to El’s Vassal.
The twins were there as well, fully dressed in their armor, their smiles as bright as the rest. Micca stood behind them, also in full armor; but his plumed helmet rested in the crook of his arm at his side. Mallean, Zelene, Icos and a few of the other councilors rested close by, their faces worn yet eased somewhat from the strain of the last few weeks.
Torren felt relief run through him at the sight, even as a touch of melancholy colored his thoughts. This time it was truly finished. What his father had set out to do all those years ago was done. Larana was safe, loved by the Chosen. As for him, he’d been allowed to do it.
Allowed…? The thought was strange, but he left it alone. It wasn’t the time to ponder such things.
Still, he was glad. The wounds of the Chosen could now heal. His own were mostly sealed—they would not bleed anymore, and with time the scars would fade. He knew he wouldn’t dream of the deaths of the others again. Their souls would now rest. He was as close to feeling at peace as he had ever come. He was a little startled as, for the first time in his life, he realized he felt a little hope for his own future.
Larana’s laughter drifted toward him, eliciting a faint smile. Yes, hope. Nothing would be as it’d been meant to be, but perhaps he could learn to live with his people again, be one of them despite his handicap. He’d faced his worst fears and survived them. Found support from unexpected quarters in both worlds at different times.
He slowly shook his head, amazed by his thoughts. How had all this changed him? Could one night’s rest truly make such a difference? Last night he’d still been so sure he would leave, never to return, yet now…
He turned, meaning to depart another way so as not to disturb the others, still not sure of his own thoughts. He would go see his aunt, have her come get his mother for him. There were things he needed to tell her he thought he might be able to now; and he wanted to explain he wouldn’t be leaving permanently this time, just for a while—despite his previous plans. He didn’t want to make the same mistake he’d made with his foster parents. Didn’t want to bring her pain she didn’t deserve.
Maybe she could then help arrange for him to be able to spend a few minutes with Larana alone so he could take a proper leave. Rux had some work to do, and if he volunteered to help him instead of Von Duren he’d be made to deal with his own kind. That would be the first step—hope’s first step. He wasn’t sure what he would do for the ambassador, but surely he could find something. And by the time the island came around again, perhaps then…
“Torren!”
He flinched, having thought he’d remain unnoticed. He’d had more than enough of being the center of attention. It didn’t suit him. Micca started toward him, a number of others noticing his presence with the shout.
He was half-tempted to ignore him and leave, but by then Larana was beaming at him. Torren made himself walk into the sorium.
Micca gave him a warm grin and a greeting.
“I was starting to think you’d sleep another day away.” A touch of color flashed in his cheeks. “I wanted to go wake you, but Aen wouldn’t hear of it.”
Impulsively, he reached out and hugged h
im close. Torren was too startled to protest.
“Thank you. Thank you.” Micca pulled away, his eyes bright. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day. You brought her back to us not once but twice. And who knows what worse things would have happened without you.”
He wasn’t sure what to do with all the heartfelt gratitude. “I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done.”
“He’s always been a modest one.”
Torren almost fell forward as he was slapped hard on the back.
“Sal?” He glanced behind him.
His friend grinned. “None other.”
“But…how?”
“Dom Rux came down and filled us in on what happened.” His grin grew wider. “Then he handed invitations, all proper-like, to me, the governor and Von Duren to come on up here and meet the Vassal. Wasn’t passing up the opportunity of a lifetime, I can tell you. So, here we are.” He slapped him heartily on the back again.
Torren stared at him, his mind reeling. Landers on Chosen soil? As far as he knew, this had never happened before, except perhaps back in the early years.
“Torren!”
He was almost knocked over as Larana crashed into him, wrapping her arms about him.
“Aen, please, you’re still weak. You should not overexert yourself.” Tyleen was close behind her, her pretty face flustered. She eyed him and Sal with some misgivings.
Larana paid her no heed, looking up happily into Torren’s face. “He told you, didn’t He? That He’s giving you a gift?”
Torren frowned, not understanding. A number of the others were now gathered around him. What were they all smiling for?
Larana let him go, but before he could move away she took his hands in hers. Her overwhelming joy came across loud and clear. “He loves you, He loves all of us. And you saved us as well as the First Mother’s children. It’s why He is now able to give you this gift. A gift that will mean much to you and everyone here.”
“No. I don’t…” Not sure what he was refusing, and not liking who it was Larana was implying it came from, he fervently wished he’d been able to get away unnoticed. Why was she saying these things? Nothing would happen. The recompense would be in money or position, and he didn’t want either of those things.
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