Vassal of El

by Gloria Oliver

  Larana stared at the sky around her in awe, almost as if she could see it. He went on.

  “Without hesitation, She granted Her son’s wish and sent Him back to the world as a human, so He might live as one of them and thereby grow to understand them. El came to the world to find everything different from what He’d known as a god. He was alone, something He’d not experienced before—and felt lonely. The sky grew dark, and He found He could not see. For the first time, He experienced hunger and felt cold.

  “By this time, a number of the other gods had learned the source of the Mother’s pleasure and what El had done. All watched what El was going through—all but Valem, who felt cheated in that it hadn’t been he who so pleased the Mother. Besides, why was it so important to understand humans, anyway?

  “Thinking El a fool, Valem used the power he’d claimed on his brother. In the darkness, he gave El the gift he’d given man, the gift of fear.”

  She gasped. He stared at the floating island, amusement and bitterness growing within him at the same time. He could clearly remember his own reaction the first time he’d heard the tale. It felt strange to now be the one telling it.

  “Suffused with this heretofore unknown emotion, El ran in panic through the dark, bereft of all His power, not even having speech with which to call his Mother. He ran and ran, smacking into trees, cut by thorns, chased by both real and imagined dangers, until He fell, exhausted and beaten.

  “When He eventually awoke, He was in a bed, warm and safe. A young boy had found Him, and those of his village had come and taken Him in. Though He could tell them nothing, not knowing how to speak, the villagers helped and healed Him. They gave Him food and shelter. They taught Him their ways, even how to communicate with words.

  “El learned and grew and stayed amongst them, never forgetting their kindness. He learned what it was to hope, to love, to dream. He learned about how humans lived and died. And so, slowly, He came to understand them.

  “Finally, He called to the Mother as He’d not been able to the first day. Proud, She took Him from the village and made Him once more what He’d been. But El didn’t forget what He’d learned, or who had taught him; so He returned once more to the village, showed Himself as the powerful god He was and then told them they were His Chosen.

  “He lifted their land and other fertile places into the air as a gift to them. He also gave them the ability to change the path the islands could take as well as a flying ship for each. Before them, He proclaimed to the Mother and all the other gods these people were His and His alone.”

  “It must have been wonderful!” Larana’s awe pained him. “They get to travel and see the world without ever having to leave home.” She looked at him, an expectant smile on her face. “Do you think we might meet some of them?”

  “I doubt it.” He tore his gaze away from the island. “The Chosen don’t associate much with grubs.” He suddenly wished there was no need for him to go to Caeldanage.

  “Grubs?” Larana stared at him, her brow furrowed, almost tripping as she paid little attention to where she was going.

  “Yes, grubs—or when they’re feeling magnanimous, Landers. It’s what they call those who live on the ground.”

  “And because of their homes is why they’re called Flyers?”

  Torren lied. “Yes.” He then increased his pace to forestall any more questions.

  By the next day, the buildings on top of the island and the tall spires beside them were visible. They drew the eyes as the island grew bigger by the hour.

  As Torren and Larana crested a sizable hill, Caeldanage spread out before them. The city was several times larger than the floating island, yet the island’s shadow ominously occluded a significant section of it from the sun. He frowned at the sight.

  “It’s huge!” Larana stared from the city to the island to Torren and back again. She pointed at the city. “Is it really full of people?”

  He nodded, watching the girl as she eagerly studied the city’s high wall and what she could see of the crowded buildings behind it. The governor’s fort rose as a domineering form from the city’s center; yet it, too, looked less than what it ought, shrouded as it was by the island above.

  “You’ll need to be very careful here. You’re going to see many things and people you’ve not seen before. They’re not all good.”

  “All right.”

  He looked away as Larana gazed at him, her eyes full of trust and naivete. He knew it would all change soon enough.

  By late afternoon, they reached the city gates. Larana’s face was pale as she stared up at the towering three-story battlements. Guards stood at small booths just beyond the huge gates as well as on the ramparts. Their solemn, unwelcoming faces and the heavy presence of the island above pressed down on them with living force.

  “Come on, let’s find a place for the night.” He pulled on her sleeve and entered the city. They hadn’t gone far before she all but pressed herself against him. They’d come to a place vastly different from anything she’d ever known.

  Strong smells assaulted their nostrils—old sweat, perfumes, animal leavings, food—all mixed together in a cacophony of scents that left one breathless. Stone and wooden buildings, some several stories high, rose on either side of them along narrow streets, closing them in. People moved back and forth, reminiscent of changing river currents. Occasionally, here and there could be seen a little green growing from a pot or planter; otherwise, everything else was wood, plaster, stone or flesh.

  Larana tried to stare everywhere at once as he led them deeper into the city. Torren had been here a number of times in the past and had a particular destination in mind.

  It’d been a couple of years since his last time through there, but the city didn’t look to have changed much—on the surface, anyway. The residents seemed more in a hurry than he remembered, the expressions on their faces less carefree. But then, with the weight of the island hanging over them, he couldn’t blame them.

  As they skirted a large bazaar filled with permanent stalls and colorful tents, Larana jumped up and down at his side, trying to get a good look at what there was to see. The scent of clustered hot bodies was strong, but so were those of frying oils, sweets and bread.

  “Torren!”

  He stopped as she pulled on his pack.

  “Look! Are those…are those…?” Her voice trembled in her excitement. He turned to see what she was pointing at. “Are they Flyers?”

  He froze at the question, but it was already too late. There they were, carefully walking amidst the stalls—the Chosen. People were giving them room, parting before them, even as they ogled them. Their fair hair and skin, hairless faces, and their quiet beauty would have made it hard to mistake them for anyone else. Their short, layered robes and exposed legs also called out their foreignness. And if anyone still doubted who they were, the wings protruding grandly from their backs would have left no doubt whatsoever.

  Torren felt his throat go dry. He hadn’t seen any Chosen since…

  “Let’s go.” Grabbing Larana’s arm, he turned abruptly and merged into the flowing crowd. She didn’t resist, though her surprise was clear.

  “They’re beautiful!” She struggled to keep up with him once he let go of her arm.

  “I know what they are.” He strove harder to get away from the area.

  By the time he got them to their destination, his temples were throbbing, his body taut. Why here? Why now? After all this time.

  Larana stopped beside him, panting, a questioning look on her face. “Torren?”

  Without saying anything, he opened the well-worn door to the Wide Brim Inn.

  The common room was large, big wooden tables and benches spread at odd angles throughout. Wide windows allowed in some of the outside light, showing sturdy rafters and a scarred but clean stone floor. A fireplace up took most of the left wall, its mantel holding bronze castings of the symbols of the nine gods. A broad flight of stairs took up the rest of that side.


  Opposite the door stood an extensive bar, a wide selection of bottles set in niches behind it. Double swinging doors led to other, unseen rooms in the back.

  A bell sounded as they opened the door, and they’d barely gotten inside when a portly man in a newly stained apron emerged from the back. The proprietor wiped his hands on it as he approached, a well-schooled welcoming smile on his face. A large, jagged scar followed his jaw line, cutting a clear path through his full, peppered beard.

  As soon as he saw them, his smile faltered, but his deep, penetrating brown eyes brightened.

  “Torren?” The smile kicked back in with almost blinding force. “By the First Mother, it is you!”

  He crossed the common room in big, bounding steps and, before Torren could stop him, clasped him in a backbreaking hug.

  “Sal, please!” He suffered through the display as best he could, especially since the man pointedly ignored his plea and he was helpless to do anything about it.

  After a moment, Sal pulled away and held him out by the shoulders so he could take a good look at him. He scanned him quickly up and down.

  “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I was starting to think you were avoiding me. But it’s still good to see you.”

  Torren looked away, not having made up his mind, before all this started, on whether or not he’d have the time to call on his friend. “You, too.”

  “Still as grim as ever, though, I see.” Sal gave him a raised brow.

  He shrugged, thinking his friend a bit too merry. A stifled giggle sounded behind him.

  “What’s this?” Sal asked, taking a look past Torren’s shoulder at his shy companion.

  “That’s Larana.”

  Sal’s gaze shifted sideways to throw an inquisitive look in his direction as he added nothing else. Torren elected to ignore the hint.

  “Still as tight-lipped as ever, too,” Sal half-whispered out of the side of his mouth as he stepped around him to greet the girl. “Welcome, miss, to the Wide Brim Inn. Come, sit down, both of you.”

  He drew them both deeper into the room, steering them toward a table. “Are either of you thirsty, hungry?” He was headed back the way he’d come before receiving an answer. “I’ll have something out for you in just a minute. Sit, make yourselves at home.”

  Torren wasn’t sure if he was ready for Sal’s generous hospitality, but it didn’t appear as if he’d get much of a choice. Giving in to the inevitable, he sat down as Larana surveyed the room, and rubbed at his temples. He wanted nothing more than to just get this business over with. The sooner he got out of Caeldanage the better.

  Sal returned carrying a laden tray. Several faces peered through the kitchen doors toward them. Torren straightened up, trying to ignore the discomfort lingering in his shoulders.

  “Miss, the food is here.” Sal beckoned Larana to join them as she gave a small wave at two women still peeking through the doors. Sal glanced at them, and they instantly disappeared. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly. “But you know how the girls just love to look at you.”

  Torren gave him a sour look.

  “Hey, if there was a way, I’d trade my ugly mug for yours in an instant. You’ve always been a very handsome fellow, aside from your nasty habit of grimacing and frowning all the time. I bet if you tried to smile more, you’d even give a Flyer a hard time.”

  His frown deepened. Sal laughed at his glowering expression and clapped him hard on the back. “Don’t believe me, do you?” His eyes grew mischievous. “Miss, don’t you think this man here strikes a handsome figure?”

  Larana stopped in mid-chew on a seasoned bit of beef and seriously studied Torren. After a moment, she nodded slowly, her cheeks filling with color. Torren turned his scowl on her, and she quickly looked away.

  “See? And just think, if you’d actually take my advice and lighten up your disposition, how would any woman be able to resist you?” Sal grinned as he spoke, smacking him on the back again.

  He put up with the pounding, trying his best not to give Sal the deeper frown he’d be expecting. It was hard. “Don’t you have something else you should be doing?”

  Sal showed them his brilliant smile and sat down. “Nope. Your timing, as usual, my friend, is perfect. Most of the meal preparations are well on the way and being supervised by the cook. The crowds aren’t due for a little while yet.” He stretched, his eyes dancing, and swiped a bit of meat for himself. “I’m all yours.”

  “Great.” The frown he had been trying so hard to hold back got the better of him.

  Sal laughed then mercifully removed his attention from Torren to Larana. “Well, young miss, how are you liking the city so far?”

  Torren grabbed a mug of ale off the tray. She hesitated before answering.

  “It’s so big.”

  Sal grinned. “First time here, I take it?”

  She nodded. “Are they all this large?” she asked timidly.

  “Some bigger, some smaller. We’re quite proud of ours, though—it’s one of the bigger ones on this side of the empire. If you’re staying here long enough, perhaps I can arrange for a tour.” He gave her a wink.

  “That would be very nice.”

  “All right, then.” Sal’s attention returned to his friend. “So, Torren, what brings you up this way? Could it be you’ve finally decided to run this place with me, or might it be those rumors of work coming from up at the border?” He sent a quick glance in Larana’s direction. “Or perhaps something else altogether?”

  Torren took a deep drink of the dark ale before responding.

  “Just the usual.” He didn’t elaborate. His friend would just have to wait for explanations at a more convenient time.

  “I see.” Sal sat back, taking the second mug of ale, leaving a smaller cup of watered wine for Larana. He took a deep draught then gave a long, appreciative belch.

  “Have there been many rumors?” Torren asked as casually as he could.

  Sal studied him from beneath bushy eyebrows and rubbed for a moment at his jagged scar. “Too many to figure out what’s true or not, and definitely nothing to substantiate any of them.”

  Torren nodded and looked away, finally grabbing a piece of meat to chew on.

  “The only thing worthy of note, as if you could have possibly missed it, was the arrival of the Flyers.” The last was said in hushed tones.

  Torren half-worried Larana would speak up and say or ask something about them again. Instead, she sat quietly sipping her wine, as if trying hard to stay out of the way. “How long have they been here?”

  “Oh, about four days or so.” Sal shrugged. “There’s almost as many rumors as to why they might be here as there are about what’s going on up north. All I know for sure is they’re not here for anything but business—and not trading business, at that, or else I’m sure they would have used one of their flying ships. Still, other than a select few coming down to the embassy or going over to see the governor, none have come down, which makes little sense.

  "For some years now, there’s been tension between us, which is easy, since no one is all that wise about the other, but there’s more to it now. And no one’s really talking about what’s going on.”

  A feeling of foreboding swept through Torren. It was foolish, though, and he knew it. The two events couldn’t possibly be connected.

  “So, young miss, has this rascal told you yet how we met?”

  Torren caught Larana throwing him a guarded look, even as he groaned inwardly.

  “No.”

  “Sal…” He threw a tone of warning on the name.

  His friend ignored him. “Well, now, I guess it’s going on about nine years now, wouldn’t you say, Torren?” Sal smiled as his brow furrowed. “Still a pup when he joined the ranks of the mercenary force at Zellos.” He leaned toward her. “It may be hard to believe, but the scowl you see right now was even more ingrained back then.”

  Larana’s light eyes darted in his direction and even more quickly away.

  �
�Sal.”

  “Anyway, he was totally green but demanding to be allowed to fight. Didn’t even have a concept of the rudimentaries. Almost as if he had a death wish.”

  Again a sharp glance. Torren felt like groaning out loud.

  “So, though he wasn’t too thrilled about it, I took him under my wing and tried to teach him proper. Not that he was amenable to the idea, you understand. He’s stubborn, this one.”

  Sighing, Torren stared at the floor, knowing there was no way Sal would stop until he’d had his say. Stubborn he had been, but in Sal he’d found his match.

  “Good thing I taught him, too,” Sal continued. “If I hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to help me keep this from going across my throat instead of my jaw.” He ran his finger down the scar and grinned.

  “It was then I decided I’d pushed my luck far enough and took on a slightly safer line of work. Tried talking him into joining me—he owns half the place as it is—but the wanderlust is too strong in him. Unfortunately, it also means I don’t see him as often as I’d like.” He smacked Torren hard in the back, almost knocking him off his bench.

  Larana giggled as Torren threw his friend an evil look. “Yes, it’s always such a pleasure to see you, too.”

  Sal’s deep laughter filled the room.

  “Ah, my friend, how I’ve missed you!” He wiped at his eyes, still chuckling.

  Larana worked up to a question. “What is it like to be a mercenary? Do they allow women to be them, too? Do you get to travel a lot? Is it hard?”

  Sal’s brow went up at the bombardment. “Whoa, whoa, one at a time, lass.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I take it you’re considering some kind of career change?”

  Her gaze flitted from Torren to her hands on her lap. “I don’t know.”

  Sal threw him a grin. “Well, mercenary work is not for everyone. It’s a hard, thankless life, actually. I doubt it would appeal much to you.”