Vassal by Sterling D'Este (reading books for 7 year olds .txt) 📗

Delyth fidgeted self-consciously and looked toward Alphonse. “Does that answer your question, bykhan?”

✶

“Yes,” Alphonse mumbled, obviously awed, only when she turned to look at him, Etienne didn’t quite meet her eyes. At the mention of spring, his thoughts had turned to the scene in the meadow, to how he had nearly given in. It was a painful memory, but in the moments before he had spoken to the entity, he had seen a glimpse of something that loved the nature around itself.

He turned to Delyth, his face dark and hurt. “Most of the Enyo we have seen—if this is indeed Enyo—is just cruel. Cruel and hungry.”

The warrior cocked her head to one side, as though examining him. “It is not for us to understand the ways of Gods.”

Etienne snorted at that, actually angry. “You could countenance any action with that logic. She could do something absolutely evil, and still, you could say that it was simply not your place to understand.”

“We follow her because we know that she is not evil any more than an avalanche or a storm is. Enyo is a force of nature within this world, wild and feral and above the morals of simple men.”

Etienne scowled. “Tell me that again after she slaughters some poor innocent for getting in her way. At some point, your lack of willingness to act against her will make you compliant in whatever horror she reaps.”

Delyth blinked at his vehemence. “I have faith in the Goddess that she will not act out of any evil impulse.”

Etienne stood abruptly. “Then you are delusional. That creature will do exactly as she likes.” He shook his head. She just couldn’t understand. “I’m going to bed.”

❀

Alphonse kept her gaze downcast as the scholar and the warrior argued, shame making her throat tight, and her eyes glaze over.

Of course, Etienne was right. He had experienced Enyo’s irritation first hand. Alphonse had merely repaired the damages she had done after the fact. The truth of the matter was, she had little control over the beast within, and when she wanted out, it was all Alphonse could do to walk and breathe, suppressing that hissing, growling thing.

It made the healer so truly sorry. And embarrassed.

She felt dirty.

Her eyes barely lifted to wish Etienne good rest when he stalked off to his own little tent, hardly more than two stakes and a rope taut between them, a heavy canvas material draped over it.

The fire popped and crackled, dancing merrily despite Alphonse’s mortification, Etienne’s annoyance, and Delyth’s stoic calm.

The water in the pan was boiling.

Alphonse reached for it, unthinking, and grabbed the handle with nothing but her bare hand. She realized a moment too late what she had done and dropped it back on the fire, some water sloshing over the edges but most staying within the confines of the pot.

Gasping, she looked down at her fingers, expecting to see seared skin and bubbling flesh.

Her palm wasn’t even red. Her slender fingers were undamaged, perfect.

Breathing unevenly, Alphonse gathered up her skirts, using them to protect herself this time as she poured the boiling water into the cups sitting nearby, already filled with herbs meant to aid digestion and sleep.

Uneasily she set the pot down and reached for the cups. She was trembling.

“Do you like tea, Delyth?” She asked, musical voice quivering.

The priestess did not answer Alphonse’s question. “Already, you change,” she said, her voice gentle. “Yours is not an easy path.”

Alphonse considered that and then nodded in agreement. She had changed. Every day she changed.

And no. This was not an easy path.

She eased closer to the priestess, careful to keep her glances at those glorious wings to a minimum, and handed Delyth the steaming tea. A small smile came to her lips as Alphonse settled beside her new companion on the ground, crossing her legs and sitting with her skirts neatly fanned around herself.

“I grew up on a farm. Etienne was a commoner as well. Our lives were simple. Even at the academy—that’s where we met, the Moxous School of Magics—You studied, and you took the classes your masters told you to take, and you practiced and… and at the end, you were supposed to be set on your path. The way was clear. We worked very hard, but …” She chewed on her plump lower lip, feeling somehow wrong to admit this. Warm-honey eyes flickered up to glacial blue ones, and she let out a breathy sigh. “It was easy. Easy to trust others to show you the way. To just… walk the course laid out before you.”

Gesturing to the clearing, the tents, the mountain ranges beyond, and then to herself, Alphonse shook her head, eyes grim suddenly.

“There is no map for this. It’s… it’s very frightening to be so…” Alphonse glanced at Etienne’s tent, the light in her eyes dimming now. “Alone.”

༄

Delyth listened to Alphonse speak in solemn silence. There was a familiarity in her tale. Though Delyth had never felt as though she had footsteps to follow in, she was very well acquainted with the feeling of walking alone.

Still, the vassal was not entirely on her own.

“The boy, Etienne, must care deeply about you to undertake this journey,” she said. “These travels must be hard on both of you. People are not so far removed from animals; they both lash out when hurt or frightened.”

She knew that well. All too often, they were frightened of her.

“Also, so long as you walk, I am destined to walk alongside you.” Delyth bumped her shoulder. “So you are not so alone, yes?”

The vassal smiled slightly at that, blushing and looking down at her tea.  “I don’t suppose you could fly us there?” she asked.

Delyth laughed, the sound deep and throaty. “I could perhaps fly you for a few miles on a clear day, but not you and Etienne and your packs. The three of us would not be able to get off the ground.”

The halfbreed stretched her arms upwards with a weary sigh and took the