Select

by Patricia Reding

  On her knees, she circled around. The rock top was just large enough for her to lie down without her head or toes sticking out. Open space greeted her at every side. Then she saw, in the near distance, three additional formations similar to the one upon which she sat.

  Her heart quickened. Fear’s ugly hand grasped it, and squeezed. She went still. Her stomach turning over, she felt she might retch.

  “This is impossible,” she muttered, now breathing in quick, heavy gasps, as the hair on her arms rose.

  She looked at the other rocks that rose up into the air, two of which were empty, but upon the last of which, someone sat. She squinted, seeking a better view.

  It’s Eden!

  She sat down hard, then dropped her head into her hands. How could this be?

  Without warning, a heavy wind erupted. To steady herself, Reigna grabbed a tuft of grass before her. Then, as suddenly as it had arisen, the rushing air subsided. She glanced in the direction from which it had come.

  A man stood upon another of the spiked mountains. Tall, and so slim as to seem ethereal, he held a staff.

  Malefique!

  It was then that his voice sounded out. Its gritty, scratchy sound irritated her ears. “So we meet again,” he said.

  She dared not stand, fearing that another strong wind might blow her from her perch.

  “How did I get here? What are you doing here? Let me down at once!”

  Malefique’s brittle laughter sounded out. “You need not shout, my dears. I can hear you as though I stood beside you.”

  Reigna could see her sister, also apparently shouting at the man, though she couldn’t hear her.

  “Stop this at once,” she ordered. “Let us down.”

  Malefique stepped to the edge of his flat rock top. He held his hand up, demanding silence. “I told you both. You need not shout. You will simply waste good energy, and trust me when I say that you will likely need it. I can hear you just fine.”

  Reigna could make out every word he spoke, every change of expression on his face, every minute gesticulation of his hands, almost as though he stood at her side. Even so, she couldn’t hear Eden, who stood upon her own island mountain, no further away from her than he.

  “What do you want from us?”

  The man sat, his bony knees pointing out of his raw wool shift. “Have no fear.” He cleared his throat, grinning. “They say people sometimes make rash decisions about important life events because they fail to take the time to carefully consider all their options. So, I have decided to make things easy for you. For so long as you remain where you are, you shall have no need of food or water.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Reigna said. “Now, let us down from here.”

  The creature spread out his arms. “Look at all of this,” he said. “This all could be yours.”

  She stood, then walked the circle of her prison, looking out to the horizon from every direction. “Upon what do we look?”

  “Why, Oosa, of course. You need but follow me, and I will deliver it to you. Come,” he gestured her forth.

  Her eyes narrowed. She couldn’t hear her sister, but she knew that Eden spoke to the man at the same time, as she saw her stomp her foot and then fold her arms.

  He glanced from one of the twins to the other. “I repeat. All this could be yours.”

  “Oh? And what, pray tell, are we to do to see to that?” Reigna asked.

  He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, twin spheres of firelight flashed out. “As I have said, you have but to follow me.” He stood, then paced about his rock top.

  “No,” Reigna said.

  He held up a finger. “Careful. Decide your fate not in haste.”

  “You have no power over us.”

  “Well now, that is where you are wrong.”

  Her jaw clenched. In that moment, she felt she knew the man’s true identity. “I don’t believe you . . . Daeva,” she said.

  Smiling slowly, he looked like a long dead corpse. “Ahhhh . . . good for you. Your suppositions are closer to the truth than you might know. How very . . . insightful you are. Even so, by the looks of things, you have not much in the way of options. You see out there?” He pointed into the distance.

  Reigna watched her sister look out to where the man gestured. Then she did, as well. “Yes.”

  “Out there, is Oosa. But what surrounds you immediately below, that upon which you now sit, is a portion of my world . . . of Sinespe.”

  Reigna jumped back, catching herself just at the edge of her prison. Glancing her sister’s way, she saw Eden respond in a similar manner. She dropped to her knees and crawled back to the center of her rock.

  “That’s impossible,” she said. “You’ve no authority in the land of the living.”

  Once again, the man smiled gruesomely. “Ordinarily, that might be true. But you see, long ago a member of the Select, of your own family, invited me into her life, made me her . . . lord. When she did, she allowed for me to establish a bit of space to call my own—right here. You know it as Kiln—The Tearless. Do you recall when you first heard of this place? Do you remember what you were told?”

  She closed her eyes, concentrating. “I don’t remember anything.”

  “You were told that Kiln . . . grows.”

  She shrugged. “So?”

  “So, indeed it does—every time someone seeks my favor. And it is a good thing, too. You see, eventually, it will take over. But you can be a part of it. You can be in charge of it all. You need but to follow me.”

  Reigna opened her mouth to speak.

  “Stop!” he demanded. “I warn you not to say another word. I must see to some things, but I will return. And when I do, I shall give you another chance. But rest assured, your opportunities are not without limit.” With that, a great column of fire ascended from whence Malefique stood. When it disappeared, he was gone.

  Reigna hung her head. She feared she had little fight left.

  Who are you? came an inner voice that demanded her full and immediate attention.

  “I am Reigna, a seventh-born child,” she whispered.

  What are you?

  She sucked in a breath. “I am a warrior,” she reminded herself.

  Then act like one. Take the fight to your enemy. Use his own words, his own weapons, against him. This battle before you is not one of flesh and blood only. It is a battle for your soul and for the future of your empire. If you do not win for the cause of freedom, the world will enter some exceedingly dark days.

  “But I am so tired,” she muttered.

  Tell me, to whom do you belong? Who do you serve? What is your cause?

  She choked back a cry. “I . . . I . . .”

  Rest for now, but prepare to fight on. Your decisions will matter to many who depend on you. You must not lose.

  Eden wept. She had heard, had felt, every evil word Malefique spoke. Though she couldn’t see her sister clearly, or hear her, she knew that Reigna had also recognized the being for who and what he truly was.

  With her fists clenched and her arms held long at her sides, she screamed long and loudly.

  When finally spent of energy, she hung her head. “Ehyeh,” she cried, “why don’t you help me? Help us? Where are you?”

  I am right here.

  She gasped. Her eyes opened wide. She spun in a circle, but saw no one.

  Once again, came the same soothing voice. She was unsure if it represented only her thoughts, or if it actually whispered at her ear.

  I am right here. I never left you. I would never leave you.

  “Then how could you do this to me? To us?”

  I did not do it. I have but . . . allowed it.

  “I don’t understand.”

  You will. For now, know that I’ve not left you. Can you say the same?

  “What?”

  Can you say that you’ll not abandon me or my cause?

  She fell to her knees. “What cause?”

  You tell me. If indeed you serve m
e, then what cause do you serve?

  She looked up. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m so weary. I feel broken, abandoned, and now,” she glanced toward where her sister sat upon her own mountaintop, “I am alone.”

  You are not alone.

  “No? Then why is my sister there,” she pointed, “and I am here? Even Mara abandoned us. How can we believe that you have not?”

  You are not alone.

  A silent moment passed before the voice came again. Tell me, who are you?

  She sighed deeply. “I am Eden. I am a seventh-born.”

  And yet not seventh-born.

  “That’s right.”

  You are an eighth-born child.

  “Yes.”

  Why, by the laws of the Select, does the birth count begin anew after the seventh-born child?

  She shook her head. I don’t know.

  You do. What does the seventh signify?

  “Completion.”

  That’s right. So, if the seventh signifies completion, what does the eighth signify?

  Once again, she looked up. Then, sudden realization dawned on her. “New beginnings,” she muttered.

  Yes. Pray now, then rest. Both you and your sister will need all your wits about you. You must escape from Kiln, or there will be no new beginnings for you.

  “But how?” she cried out. “What are we to do? What am I to do?”

  For now, you have only to believe in yourself, believe in your sister, believe in your Oathtaker. But above all, believe in . . . Me.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Though Dixon had convinced Mara to wait until morning to set out on their journey, she arose before dawn. She dressed quickly, then passed through the common area connecting their rooms. She knocked on the door to the room where he slept, then opened it.

  “Dixon? Can we go now?”

  He turned over in his sleep.

  “Dixon?”

  Still tired from his late night with Ezra, he groaned, then sat up. He dropped his head back to his pillow. “We should wait until morning, at least.”

  “It’s nearly morning now.”

  Once again, he sat up. “What is it you hope to find there?”

  “I don’t know. But I know I have to go.”

  She didn’t want to leave him, couldn’t bear to think of going on without him, but she knew the time would come, soon enough, when she’d no longer have a choice in the matter. “It’s all right if you want to stay here,” she said. “I understand.” She swallowed hard. “You have your own life to get back to. I can go on my own.”

  “No, I’ll get dressed. Would you put my things together? My bag is in the other room.”

  “I will.” She turned to go, then looked back over her shoulder at him. “Thank you.”

  “It’s not a problem. I’ll be right with you.”

  She returned to the common room. As before, everything seemed so familiar. Glimpses of memories skittered through her mind. She could almost hear voices. She held her head as they came rushing in.

  Crows? she heard Ezra ask.

  Yes, it’s the strangest thing. A murder of them invaded the city earlier today . . .

  She struggled to recognize the voice. The name “Jamison” came to mind. In that moment, she recalled his body, on the floor, outside the door to the suite. So that was the person I remembered yesterday. She concentrated, fighting for further recollections.

  Thank you, Jamison, she remembered having said. Good thing we’re not taking the girls with us tomorrow.

  Then as quickly as the memory had arisen, it dissipated.

  She shook her head as more thoughts impressed themselves upon her.

  You must be Mara.

  Who are you?

  Listen to me. You’re in great danger.

  Who are you?

  My name is Velia . . . I’ve come to warn you.

  In her frustration, Mara growled. Another distinct, quick memory rushed in on her.

  I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about. I’ve never seen this woman before.

  Mara didn’t recognize the voice. She bowed her head and wept. “Ehyeh, help me. What are you trying to tell me?”

  Angry when no answer came, she grabbed Dixon’s tunic that hung at the back of a nearby chair. Something rattled inside its pockets. She reached in, then pulled her hand out.

  Crystals. What are these for?

  In that moment, she felt her head would split open. “Ahhhhhh!” she cried, falling to her knees.

  As the door to Dixon’s room burst open, she dropped to the floor.

  Mara awakened to find rocks on the ground beneath, poking into her back. Irritated, she pulled up onto one elbow. She glanced out, noting the rosy dawn sky.

  She found herself on a narrow rock spire, high in the air. She got to her hands and knees. Three similar formations stood before her. On each of two of them, a young woman sat. On the third, stood a cadaverous looking man.

  He glanced at the Oathtaker, smiling grotesquely. “Ahhhh, so you have made it after all.”

  Though the structure upon which the man stood was some distance from her, Mara heard his every word clearly. “Where am I?”

  “Ha ha ha ha ha,” he laughed. With each sound, a jolt of pain rushed through her center. “I take it you have come for them?” He gestured toward the young women.

  She stood, immediately recognizing those atop the other island mountains.

  “Mara,” one of them shouted, “you have to help us. Eden and I need you!”

  “Please Mara,” cried the other, “please help us!”

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  Neither of the twins answered her.

  “What can I do?” she cried out again.

  The man held out his hand. “Save your voice. They cannot hear you.”

  “Who are you? What are they doing here? What do you want?”

  “You do not recognize me?”

  “What’s happening here? Leave them be,” Mara said, gesturing toward each of the twins in turn. “Let them go.”

  Once again, painful jolts shot through her being.

  “They already know what to do to be freed. We have spent some time here together waiting . . . for their decision, waiting . . . for you.”

  “For me? Why for me?”

  “Because when they see that you are unwilling to help them, that their Ehyeh,” he sneered, “has abandoned them, they will follow me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You are Daeva.”

  He grinned. It was a smile she’d seen once before in a looking glass.

  “What do you want with them?”

  “Their time is running out,” he said. “Or, more to the point, their faith. Soon they will follow the only path open to them.”

  “And what path is that?”

  “They will step from their perches to follow me.”

  She glanced at the twins. “But if they step out, surely they will . . . die.”

  He threw his head back. “Ha ha ha ha ha!” Turning back, he put a finger to his lips. “Shhhhh . . . do not tell them. I would not want you ruining the surprise. Ha ha ha ha ha!”

  As before, the sound of his voice pained her. Then, suddenly spent, she dropped to her knees.

  “Mara!” someone cried. “Mara!”

  Dixon. It’s Dixon! “I’m coming,” she whispered before losing consciousness.

  Dixon sat at her bedside, sick with worry, holding her hand, caressing it. After she’d disappeared once again for a short time, three days hence, she’d returned, unconscious. Unwilling to leave her for even a moment, he’d called Ezra to his side magically, as both still always carried crystals with them wherever they went, allowing them to communicate with one another in just such a manner.

  “I fear she’ll never awaken again.”

  “But you said this has happened before,” Ezra said.

  “Yes.”

  “Then have faith. She will awaken.”

  Dixon glanced at his old friend. �
��You’ve stayed at my side for days now. You must be exhausted. At least my attendant magic gives me some power for times like this.”

  “It’s all right, Dixon. I’ve dozed off from time to time, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” The innkeeper grinned. “I couldn’t leave you now. I just wish I could do something more to heal her.”

  “The healers at the compound did everything they could for her.” Dixon sighed deeply. “You know,” he said, “it’s almost as though this is all a part of some grand plan.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m sure its nothing, but . . . Well, except for the first time, each time she’s passed out like this, she’s traveled somewhere, and each time, upon regaining consciousness, she’s said she dreamed of having been with the twins. I suppose that must be where she’s gone. Remember, I told you? She brought them water when they needed it, then food. I can’t imagine where they are, or what’s happening with them, but somehow, though she remembers so little, it seems she’s been with them in their times of need.”

  The innkeeper bit his lip. “Ehyeh works in mysterious ways.”

  “Yes.”

  “Listen, Dixon, I’ve received reports of a great number of people arriving in the city.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Apparently, someone has called for a gathering at sanctuary, of all the Select and Oathtakers remaining in Oosa.”

  Dixon’s eyes narrowed. “Are you going?”

  “I am,” the innkeeper said. “Do you think the two of you should be there as well?”

  “Goodness, no!” Dixon exclaimed. “Too many would recognize us and . . . Well, how would we explain Mara’s condition? It’s probably best if we just leave.”

  “I understand.”

  Just then, Mara stirred.

  “Oh, Mara!” Dixon cried. “Can you wake up now? Please, please wake up.”

  Her eyes fluttered. She groaned.

  “Please wake up, Mara.”

  “Will she need something to eat?” the innkeeper asked. “I could go get something.”

  Dixon thanked his friend. “It looks like she’s coming around, just as she did the other times, on the third day after . . . But there’s no hurry. It’s not likely she’ll want to eat right away.”