Vassal

by Sterling D'Este

  Delyth stepped back, as though the last few lines were physical blows.

  “You—you’re a fucking monster.” Etienne’s voice was lower now, the words tense and stuttering.

  Delyth couldn’t take it, couldn’t argue. He was right. He was right about all of it.

  She took two running steps towards the sword, scooped it up by the scabbard, and took off, disappearing over the trees.

  Chapter VII

  Winter, Brig’ian Mountains, Before the Kingdoms of Man

  Freedom was cold and wet, but it felt far better than the brush of an Unmaker’s hand.

  Va'al stood slowly, snow clinging to the bare skin of his dark body, all sinuous length, and corded muscle. Not a stitch of clothing had followed him from the Cursed Realms, but, for all the cold, he did not mind—the less of that place, the better.

  The land around him was white with falling snow, a monotony broken only by the glimpse of rock rising miles above him or a splash of green from a thick-furred tree. Va'al had never seen so little color in his life.

  And it was beautiful.

  A long, jagged breath escaped him, something like relief for all that he was tense with nerves. Had he been followed? The silence of this plane was unnerving, nothing in his ears but the rush of air. Was this where the others had gone? Or was he alone here?

  Va'al turned in a slow circle, searching for anyone else. What would be worse? Life in the Cursed Realms? Or life alone?

  A rumbling echoed through the clearing. It grew louder, and with a snapping of branches and a crushing of the frozen underbrush, a small herd of creatures appeared. They bounded gracefully over fallen logs and zig-zagged between one another, arcing hastily away from Va'al and further into the forest. The animals were large in size, though nimble enough on cloven feet, with horns branching from their skulls and thick red fur. Their wide eyes showed the whites as they dashed away, clearly chased by some predator.

  The last animal had bounded past Va'al when their hunter appeared. Where they had been relatively loud, huffing and hurrying to escape, she was fleet-footed and sleek. Wrapped in no more than a fur cloak and blood, she was gleefully sprinting after the animals.

  When she spotted Va'al, she came to a stop so suddenly it was eerie.

  She stood in complete stillness for several heartbeats and then nodded to Va'al. Her eyes were the color of flames and her skin the ashen grey of logs long burnt. Heat rippled from her body, and she approached to sniff at Va'al. Nostrils flared, and then the woman's lips peeled back to reveal a sharp smile.

  “It’s been some time since someone from the Cursed Realms has come through. I thought Ruyaa would be the last of them, crazy dreamer. But here you are.”

  At the mention of the Cursed Realms, Va'al stilled, some old instinct of preservation making him tense and careful in the presence of a creature more powerful than himself.

  And she was more powerful. He could feel it, though if it was due to her inherent strength or some source of magic within this world, it was impossible to tell.

  “How many have made it?” he asked finally, unsure whether he felt relief at not being alone or fear that this new world would be no better, no different from the one he had escaped.

  The woman shrugged, uninterested in the topic. Her eyes were roving over his form keenly, and her smile grew even wider. “A few. Less than a dozen. Though it’s been over a hundred years since the last came through, and likely she only believed it because she is so… odd. It’s strange that you are here. From what I understood, the Unmakers stopped allowing audiences. How did you know this was real?” she held up her hand to indicate the unmarred land around them.

  “I didn’t.” Va'al shrugged, letting his eyes follow the curve of her gesture. The female had made no move to attack, and he felt himself beginning to relax, at least partially. If there were only a dozen of them here, then surely there would be none with the power to enslave. “But even if it had not been real, it could not have been worse than remaining there.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her interest in his looks and straightened to display himself more prominently. The woman was lovely, for all her power, but she just snorted derisively at his efforts. “What were you, back in the Cursed Realms? A soldier?”

  Va'al shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze but managed to crack a crooked smile. “What does it matter? The Cursed Realms are behind us now. I will carry none of that place with me. Nothing but my name.”

  “Very well.” She didn’t seem to care that he was hiding his past. Instead, she took the furs draped over her body and slung them across his hips. “What is your name?”

  “Va'al.”

  “An old name. A slave name. They loved naming us terrible things, didn’t they? Thought they were funny,” she murmured. Looking him up and down one last time, she jerked her chin over her shoulder, indicating he should follow. “Not as old as mine, though. Enyo.”

  He looked at her a long, quiet moment, their names hanging between them like motes of snow. Finally, she turned on her heel. “Let’s go.”

  ❂

  For a long time, they walked through the forest, their combined breaths filtering up through the grey sky in little puffs of steam. Her footfalls were silent, and his were near enough. She didn’t mind the cold despite her own bared skin but remembered when she first came to Illygad how strange it had felt to be warm or cold. This body hadn’t been ravaged by war and whippings and everything else. She actually felt here.

  A terrible and wonderful sensation.

  Finally, they came up over the last jagged hillock and stared down into the valley where her people gathered and lived. “Glynfford.” She explained, watching little spirals of smoke avidly. “There are other beings who lived here before I came. Animals and people alike. They aren’t like us, though. Smaller, weaker. Short-lived.” Some humans were visible now, little dots moving around like ants.

  “I live here some of the time, but mostly I stay in the forests. I lived in the stockyards, long enough to wish never to feel another creature’s body against my own while I sleep.” In the stockyards they were pressed together heel to crown, not enough room to fight or fuck or sneeze. “In the mountains, I can breathe.”

  “All this world and all we have to share it with is a few others like us and a few even weaker?” Va'al took a deep breath, his lungs expanding with the frigid air. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so free to breathe before.”

  Enyo smirked and started her descent. It was certainly more simple and freeing than the Cursed Realms ever had been. Here they were allowed to be whatever they pleased, not forced to fight and maim and breed. Not worked and kept as pets.

  “I will say, though, these fragile beings need a fair bit of guidance. I help them; in return, they honor me. It works well, though you do have to share with the others.” The others that had come over. Esha, Ruyaa, Maoz.

  Of course, there was enough space here that it hadn’t been a problem in many many generations. Not since she overthrew Kirit and limited him to the frozen wastes of the north. “They didn’t know much of anything. But they are fast learners, and they don’t ask for much.”

  “They honor you…” Va'al said, his uncertainty obvious. In the Cursed Realms, one did not question those with more magical power. “They are the source of your magic, then?”

  “In a manner of speaking. It’s different here. They live and die so quickly, it’s easier to befriend them and help them. But of course, we are so different than they are, it’s impossible not to notice the discrepancies.” Enyo could rip a man’s head off his body, burn him alive, bring down the very mountains if she so pleased. Humans could do little more than bleed and believe.

  But that was enough for her. And for the others.

  “Come on, I’ll show you my people and give you a few supplies.” And then he’d go off to his own adventures, as they all had. He really was free. Enyo smiled as she traipsed down the path. She loved it here.

  ⚀

 
Va'al followed Enyo eagerly, tearing his gaze from the graceful sway of her hips to the people that rose as they entered the clearing. She was right. They were not a particularly impressive race, but they did recognize Enyo’s power. “Goddess,” they whispered as she came among them, bowing before her.

  It was as though they wanted to make her powerful, wanted to be worthy of her. What help could possibly be worth such prostration, the loss of freedom and dignity?

  Va'al shrugged. Perhaps to these creatures, to serve was a sort of fulfillment. To him, though, with all the New World stretched out before him and no one stronger to press him into slavery or obedience, the lure of freedom was too impossible a call to ignore.

  It had gotten him here, hadn’t it? And never again would he bend to any will but his own.

  Chapter VIII

  Fifth Moon, Full: Thloegr

  Her bones felt heavy as Alphonse sat up from her pallet. Her mouth was chalky and dry, and her hair was… Ugh, it was a mess. But her hands and face were clean and free of blood. So too was her underdress.

  Alphonse smiled at that little fact.

  Etienne knew she didn’t have many clothes, had only packed what she absolutely needed for this trip. Long ago, he had learned a tidy up spell. Mostly since he tended towards ink spills and dripping potion ingredients on himself, but she recognized the work now on her clothing. It almost looked as if her shift had been ironed. Grateful for that kindness, the healer dressed within the privacy of her tent and emerged feeling…well, not refreshed, but certainly better. It was amazing what a few hours of sleep and clean clothes could do for a person’s spirits.

  She stretched her arms overhead and looked about the clearing. Where was her new friend? Where was her old one? Alphonse massaged her hand, still tender from the healing, and frowned. Surely they hadn’t left without her? That seemed unlikely, given she was the reason they were all here…

  “Etienne?” She called, soft voice carrying on the breeze. The sun was high overhead. How long had she slept?

  “I’m here,” he said, standing from a patch of earth a little to the left of her tent. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better.” She assured him, flipping her hand over so he could see the freshly healed skin.

  Her eyes traveled the clearing once, twice, three times… But she didn’t find the answers she was looking for.

  “Did…” She hesitated, realizing that maybe Delyth had left because of her. Because of the darkness. The sickness.

  “Did I frighten Delyth away?”

  Etienne rubbed his face with both hands, sighing heavily. “No,” he said. “But I think I did.” He crouched back down, staring at the ground between his feet. “I told her it was her fault, everything that happened this morning. I told her she was a monster…I just— I just couldn’t stop seeing her with her mouth in your blood, and this morning… It was like there was nothing I could do, nothing I knew how to do. I was so scared, Alphonse.”

  Alphonse hastily crouched beside her dearest friend and laid her healed hand on his shoulder.

  “She didn’t know,” she murmured, tone imploring him to accept this. “She didn’t know how sick I am, how strange. And after having to— to drink my blood… ” Alphonse actually did remember parts of that.

  How invigorating it had felt. How thrilling.

  She remembered the struggle inside her own mind and the iron fist of Enyo keeping her out. And then, of course, the pain. That had finally been what jerked her back into control. Enyo hadn’t known what to do with that sharp pain of Delyth’s tongue against the open wound.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that, that she had to do that. I’m sorry I’m not stronger…”

  “You’re doing everything you can,” Etienne said and placed a hand on her shoulder, but somehow Alphonse felt he didn’t think she was strong enough either.

  ⥣ ⥣ ⥣

  * * *

  After leaving the clearing, Delyth flew north until she found a spring. It wasn’t much, just a trickle of cold mountain-fed water, but it fell over a small overhang, creating a spray that the halfbreed could duck under.

  Delyth tugged off the sword and stripped to her skin, leaving her things out of reach of the fall. Then she plunged under it. She let the stream play over her face until it washed away the blood and the paint alike. She stood there until the cold made her pimple and shiver. She drank until her stomach could hold no more.

  Finally, with her hair soaked and plastered to her skin, Delyth stepped from the water and pulled on her clothes.

  She had a choice now.

  She knew that Enyo was little like the Goddess her people served. The other priests had claimed she was powerful, yes, but also wise and gracious. Perhaps the years of confinement or her new place within a human body had twisted her.

  If she left now, she could tell herself that it was because her Goddess was not who she thought, was not who she had striven to serve.

  But in a way, that would be a lie. Delyth had been told that Enyo was wild.

  She just hadn’t expected to experience it so… viscerally.

  And then there was the question of where she would go. Delyth could not return home, having failed. She doubted they would allow her to. Those who hated her for what she was would have new ammunition. Those who respected her for her strength and devotion would have that respect no longer.

  And where else was there? No human settlement would accept her.

  No, Delyth could not leave.

  But perhaps it was best to rethink her priorities.

  High Priestess Anwen had named Delyth Champion to the Vassal, not champion to Enyo. She would make it her duty to protect Alphonse rather than to serve the Goddess unthinkingly. This way, she could both complete her sacred purpose and live with herself.

  Her teeth set, Delyth leaped back into the air.

  When she returned to their camp, she could see Alphonse and Etienne crouched together, but she could not hear what they said over the rush of wind in her ears. Delyth landed a few yards away with a spray of dust and collapsed her wings against her back. She wasn’t sure what to say. Nothing that sprang to mind seemed fit.

  ❀

  Relief flooded Alphonse as she stood, turning towards Delyth. She knew in her heart that she and Etienne alone stood little to no chance of actually making it to the temple without Delyth’s help. It seemed corralling Enyo was more than a one-person job anyway.

  Furthermore, the brief exchange she and the warrior had shared the day before had been meaningful to Alphonse. She had thought, perhaps, she might make another friend, despite the sickness within her.

  So she was reassured that Delyth had come back. Surely, that meant things weren’t so bad that, with a little help, Alphonse could not mend it? She tucked her hands swiftly into the folds of her plain grey skirt so the priestess couldn’t see them and stepped closer.

  “Delyth, I’m very glad you came back. And I—we—” she glanced at Etienne meaningfully, “wanted to apologize. For attacking you as I did. And for frightening you. And for making you… making you do something you didn’t want to.” She actually turned a bit ashen at this last part.

  She had never in her life forced anyone to do anything. Ever. To think she was turning into a bully and a brute…

  Etienne met Alphonse’s gaze and turned to Delyth, his expression calmer than before though still reluctant. “I’m sorry. For everything I said.”

  Delyth was still for a moment, her eyes closed. Alphonse watched her take a deep breath. “You weren’t completely wrong,” the warrior said. “I put Alphonse in danger. It will not happen again.” Her face was unreadable, emotions concealed behind a mask that had only slipped because of the morning’s horror. “We should get going. Much of the day has been lost.”

  Alphonse winced at that cold tone. Delyth must think her demented. Twisted. Inhuman.

  They were things she thought about herself, so it was only fair.

  The healer turned away, swallowing her disap
pointment. “I’ll pack up my tent,” she murmured to no one in particular. The sooner they got going, the sooner they’d reach the temple, and the sooner Enyo could be gone forever.

  Good riddance.

  ༄

  The rest of the day passed mostly in tense silence. Delyth led the group north for several hours, the pace mind-numbingly slow. She had covered all of this ground and more twice just that morning. The atmosphere at camp was not much better. The halfbreed was still dealing with her own guilt, and she did not think Etienne had completely forgiven her. He might never.

  She would just have to live with that and do what she could to move forward.

  After an unsatisfying meal of dried rations, Delyth finally spoke again in more than the short replies she’d stuck to for most of the day.

  “Alphonse,” she said. “I don’t think you should sleep alone again.”

  Etienne was nodding. “No. It was too easy for Enyo to keep control all night.”

  Delyth glanced briefly at him and then back to Alphonse. “I will share your tent if that’s alright with you. For protection.”

  Etienne opened his mouth as though to protest, but seemed to think better of it.

  Alphonse’s wide eyes drifted towards the little tent, and then towards Delyth, her wings… “Won’t you… won’t you be uncomfortable, in that little tent with me?” She asked tentatively, clearly considering the offer.

  Delyth actually smiled at that. It was true that she did not much care for small spaces, but the alternative… Her mind turned to the bloody scene that morning. It was so much worse that, in comparison, the discomfort of sleeping in a small space seemed laughable.

  She didn’t say that, though. She didn’t think it would make Alphonse feel any better.

  “I don’t think it will be uncomfortable, bykhan,” Delyth said gently. “And you do not need to sleep alone.”