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

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