Select

by Patricia Reding

  If only Ehyeh would grant me the opportunity to set things right and to make amends . . .

  No longer able to watch the puddle of her life force grow larger, she closed her eyes, even as a wisp of air passed over her face.

  “Gracious!” someone gasped.

  Then came the lightest touch at her cheek like the wings of a lightfly.

  With what seemed to be the last of her strength, she opened her eyes again.

  “Hold on,” Ephemeral—generally known as Effie—the queen of the flits, urged, as she flitted at her shoulder. “Help is coming.”

  “They’re almost here,” her husband, Fleet, short for Fleeting, added.

  A long quiet minute passed. Only the whisper of the flits’ wings, and a faint rustling from the woman’s labored, shallow breathing, sounded out.

  Then, with a resounding crash, the door burst open. Chaos, in the form of over a half dozen Oathtakers, Mara at the lead, entered. A single member of the Select, Basha’s charge, Therese, accompanied them.

  “Hold on, Lucy,” Mara urged as she rushed to her side, “hold on.” Then, “Dixon, Jerrett,” she called over her shoulder, “get this thing off of her!”

  “Lend us a hand here,” Dixon said to his cohorts, Marshall, Kayson, and Raman.

  “I’ll help with my attendant magic,” Basha offered. Drawing on her power, she concentrated on moving the beam that pinned Lucy to the floor.

  As she, along with the men, saw to the task, Mara placed her hands on Lucy’s shoulders. She reached inside for her magic power—power that granted her the ability to heal—and then let it loose.

  As the beam dropped back to the floor with a thud, Basha rushed to Mara’s side. “Great Good One, she doesn’t look good!” she exclaimed.

  Velia knelt and, like her fellow Oathtaker, placed her hands on the woman. Then, “Ahhhhh,” she cried out, the sound so intense, it made the hair on Mara’s arms rise. “Uhhhhhh,” she then moaned, gasping for another breath.

  The men approached.

  “What is it?” Jerrett asked, his hand on his wife, Velia’s, shoulder.

  “Ohhhh, the . . .”

  “If it’s too much, you shouldn’t do it. Just because your magic allows you to take on the pain of another, doesn’t mean that you should.”

  “Ahhh, I just . . . Ohhh . . . Mara, I—” She gulped. “I think she’s . . . broken her back. I feel intense pain, but nothing from her waist down.”

  “I can’t see to that now, I’ve got to stop the bleeding from this cut here and check for internal injuries.”

  “Hurry. It’s . . . excruciating.” Velia cried out again, then gasped as she sucked another breath in through her teeth.

  Shaking her head, signifying she required quiet, Mara released more magic into Lucy. She knew the woman still lived—she could feel the flicker of life within her. She followed her power, as it raced to the source of Lucy’s most serious injury.

  “Gracious Ehyeh, she’s ruptured her spleen,” she whispered. “She’s bled internally so, so badly.”

  “Can you heal her?” Therese asked.

  “Shhh.” Mara concentrated more acutely, filling Lucy with her magic. Mere seconds later, nearly spent, she dropped her head and shuddered.

  “That’s enough,” Dixon said. “You have to stop now.”

  “I just need a little . . .”

  He tore her hands away. “Please, stop. That’s enough. We don’t want to lose Lucy, but neither can we lose you.”

  “But, Dixon—”

  “No, that’s enough now.”

  “I can’t stop. Not yet! Dixon—”

  “Please, Mara, no.”

  “Maybe you should try,” Velia called over her shoulder to Kayson, another of the Oathtakers.

  Mara touched Lucy again. “Hold on. I think she’s passed out,” she said.

  “You’re right,” Velia muttered, “I don’t feel her pain any longer—and thank goodness for that.”

  At that precise moment, Lucy gurgled, then went utterly still. The earlier sporadic, yet shallow rise and fall of her chest, halted.

  Mara touched her once more. “Wait.” She gasped. Her hands shook. “She’s . . .” She grabbed the woman’s wrist and felt for a pulse. There was nothing. Then she thought she saw a shimmer of light form and radiate over her before it, just as quickly, dissipated.

  “I can’t feel anything!” she cried. “Please, no. No!” She turned tear-filled eyes Dixon’s way.

  Basha held her hand to her mouth. “No.”

  “Great Good One,” Velia said, “is she—”

  “Dead?” Mara whispered. She closed her eyes and nodded.

  Fleet hovered at her shoulder. “We came the minute it happened. We found you as quickly as—”

  Mara held out her hand so that the flits could land in her palm.

  “I’m so sorry,” Effie said.

  “It’s not your fault.” Mara shook her head. “I should have done more myself.”

  “No,” Dixon assured her, “you did all you could.”

  Once again, she looked his way. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I did try. Truly, I never meant for—”

  “No, of course you didn’t.” He reached for her hand. Then, as Effie and Fleet flew into the air, he crouched down at her side. He wrapped his arms around her. “We all know that you did everything you could.”

  Silence ensued. Only the scratching of a branch outside, brushing against the window, interrupted it. Seconds later came a howl from Jerrett’s nearly constant companion—the wolf, Bane—sitting just outside the door.

  Jerrett stepped nearer. “We’ll take her body to the infirmary to prepare it for burial.”

  Velia, at his side, leaned toward him, then buried her face in his chest. “This is awful,” she said.

  “What’ll we do without her?” Therese asked no one in particular. “I just . . . can’t believe this. It can’t be true. She wasn’t supposed to . . . die.”

  Marshall sighed. “But of course, as we all know, the gift of ‘continued youth’ that Ehyeh granted to her as an Oathtaker, was just that. It was not immortality.”

  Basha patted her charge’s back. “Therese, I know how you feel, but . . .” She sucked in a deep breath and stood to her full height. “Listen, everyone, we all have to be strong now, and we have to stick together. We can’t let this loss cause any division amongst us, or create any difficulties with the others.”

  She glanced at each of her companions in turn. “Now I know this may seem premature to you, but we have to face facts. For starters, we’d best determine right here and right now who will be our administrative lead going forward.” She hesitated. “Of course, the natural person would be Mara,” she added as her eyes rested on her friend.

  “Oh, no! Not me! I’ve enough to do without—”

  Just then, the door burst open again. Mara’s charges, the twins—and the current ranking members of the first family of the Select, Reigna and Eden—entered.

  “Felicity had a spell,” Reigna cried. “She rambled something that made Trumble think that someone was hurt.” She hurried to Mara’s side. “What happened?”

  With tears welled in her eyes, Mara looked her way, then at Eden. “I’m so sorry, girls. It’s Lucy. I’m afraid she’s . . .” She swallowed hard, unable to say the word.

  “No!” Reigna dropped to her knees. She grabbed Lucy’s hand and squeezed it. “No, Ehyeh! No! Please, return her to us. Please, please, don’t take her!” She wept. “Oh, why couldn’t it be someone else? We need her! No, no, no. This can’t be! Please,” she pleaded.

  Mara crouched down and put her arm around her. “I’m sorry, Reigna. I tried. Truly . . .”

  Reigna brushed her hand away. “No, Mara. Lucy may be difficult—but we need her!” Still weeping, she hung her head, muttering, praying.

  Eden knelt at her sister’s side. She leaned in and brushed the back of her hand against Lucy’s cheek. “Reigna, that’s enough now. There’s nothing more you can
do.”

  “We have to save her!”

  “It’s too late,” Mara said. “I’m so sorry . . .”

  At that very moment, Lucy sucked in a deep breath.

  Eden pulled back, her eyes wide. “But . . . she was dead!”

  Shaking her head, Mara looked from Dixon, to each of her Oathtaker friends in turn, to Therese, and finally, back to Lucy. “This isn’t possible,” she said. “She was dead. I felt—I saw—the life leave her, myself.”

  Groaning, Lucy opened her eyes and looked about.

  “Are you all right?” Eden asked her.

  She stared at her. “I . . . should be dead.” She glanced Reigna’s way. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Done what?”

  “Here, help me sit up.”

  Mara gave her a hand. “You need to be careful. We thought we’d lost you.”

  “You did.”

  “But that’s not . . . possible.”

  Lucy exhaled audibly. “You shouldn’t have done that, Reigna,” she repeated. “It was . . . my time.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  Lucy dropped her head into her hands. “I’d hoped to have time to explain this all to you before I—” She glanced back up. “Well, I guess you’ve discovered for yourself that . . .” Her voice trailed off to nothing. Then, “I need to speak with you, Reigna and Eden,” she said, “and with you, Mara. I see I should have done this earlier.”

  “What’s this all about, Lucy?” Dixon asked. “What just happened here?”

  She took to her knees. “As to what happened here, it was foolish, really. I was moving those things,” she pointed to some crates at the back of the room, “when I looked out the window. I thought I saw someone I knew.” She closed her eyes tightly.

  “Who did you think you saw?” Mara asked. “The prospect seems to trouble you.”

  “Oh, never mind. It wasn’t . . . possible. He’s probably . . .” Her brow furrowed.

  She stood, approached the window, and then looked out searchingly through the autumn leaves falling, floating, on the cool breeze.

  “Anyway,” she said upon returning, “the beam fell and I didn’t move fast enough.”

  “Who did you think you saw, Lucy?” Mara persisted.

  She waved her hand. “Never mind. Listen, why don’t you all get comfortable? I’ve some things to share. I thought it could wait, but . . . Well, I suppose I should have realized that life can change drastically in an unplanned moment, so I’d best fill you in now, before something happens that keeps me from being able to do so later.”

  Dixon patted a rhythm on his thigh. “All right, Lucy, let’s hear it.”

  “Please, Dixon,” she motioned with her hand, “have a seat. Everyone, have a seat. There are things you all should know.”

  Amidst the sounds of shuffling and of weapons clanging, they sat on the floor, as they’d previously removed all the furniture from the building.

  Lucy pulled her shoulders back. “Let me begin with a heartfelt . . . apology.” She glanced Mara and Dixon’s way. “I owe the two of you . . . Well, the truth is that I owe you more than I could ever repay. You’ve been instrumental in so many things, and I’m sorry to say that I . . .”

  “What is it, Lucy?” Mara asked.

  She turned to Basha and Therese, sitting side-by-side. “You two tried to tell me some time back, that I shouldn’t be so quick to find fault—that I should recognize that I, too, could make a mistake—that I should join you ‘lowly mortals in the land of the living.’” She sighed. “You were right.” She looked back at Dixon. “I was wrong, Dixon. I know I said it before, but I’m not sure that I truly appreciated what I’d done.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know. When I had you taken captive. When I planned to have you tried for treason. It was . . . wrong of me. Very, very wrong.” She motioned toward where she’d fallen, earlier. “When that beam fell on me, I thought I was dead. While pinned beneath it, I discovered that one of the things I most regretted—and believe me, I’ve been around long enough to have many regrets—was that I’d not made proper amends to you.” She turned Mara’s way. “Nor to you, she added. “I suppose the truth is . . .” She fell silent, holding her mouth firmly shut.

  “Yes?” Mara asked.

  Sighing, Lucy twisted her fingers together. “I suppose the truth is that I behaved so badly because I’m . . .”

  “You’re what, Lucy?”

  “I’m . . . envious . . . that you two were able to follow your hearts. The same has never been true for any Oathtaker before you while his charge still lived. There are those who’ve . . .” Once more, she weaved her fingers together. “Well, who’ve loved and lost.”

  Mara took Dixon’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry about. Once I swore oaths for the protection of my charges, I never expected that the rules would be any different for me than for any other Oathtaker.” She held Mara’s gaze for a moment, then looked down. “Still, I suppose somewhere in the deepest part of me, I felt I might have lost something and . . .” She swallowed hard. “In any case, like I said, I deeply regret how I treated you.”

  “It’s forgiven, Lucy—just like we told you earlier.”

  “Yes, well, I mean to show you that I understand how wrong I was. I knew my time was running short, yet it seems Ehyeh has now granted me this second opportunity. I can promise you that I won’t allow it to pass by without taking full advantage of it.” She faced Dixon. “I’m especially sorry for what I did to you, my dear friend. I know you’ve long been faithful to our cause—to Ehyeh’s cause—of life and freedom. Rowena was eternally grateful to you. She trusted you completely—and for good reason. I’m sorry, truly and deeply sorry, for how I behaved.”

  He shrugged. “Mara’s right—and the twins were right when they said that we need to stick together. All is forgiven.”

  Lucy smiled, wanly. “Thank you both for being bigger and better people than I showed myself to be.” She sighed. “Well now, as I said, there are some things you should know. However, what I’m about to tell you can never leave this room. Have I got your agreement?” She looked at each of her comrades, in turn. “If you don’t think you can live up to this requirement, then please, leave now.”

  No one moved.

  She stood and paced, her hands fidgeting. Then she turned back again. “Reigna and Eden,” she said, “when you arrived back to the City of Light after you were tested in The Tearless and found Ehyeh’s favor, everything was in chaos. We all headed here, back to the compound, to pack our things for returning to the palace. In all the turmoil, I didn’t bother to take the time to discuss the most important facts with you.” She bit her lip, then paced again.

  “Some time ago,” she continued, “Ehyeh shared information with me. I had awaited the new seventh seventh and her Oathtaker for decades. There were things I didn’t understand about the Good One’s revelations to me, but they made more sense when I discovered that there were two of you born to Rowena, and not just the one intended—or expected, that is.”

  She returned to the group, then sat. “You see, the Good One revealed to me the powers of the rightful next seventh seventh. Like I said, they didn’t make much sense then. But in light of what just happened here, I suspect you’ve already figured out some things for yourselves.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lucy,” Reigna said.

  “Nor I,” Eden added.

  “As the rightful ranking members of the Select, you’ve been endowed with certain magic powers,” Lucy said. “Have you wondered at all what they might be?”

  Reigna shrugged. “No. I figured when the time came, they’d make themselves known.”

  “And indeed they have. Or, at least they have in part.”

  Eden shuffled in her seat. “I don’t understand. I haven’t noticed any magic.”

  “No, but your sister has.”
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br />   “What?” Reigna asked. “What are you talking about?”

  Lucy bit her lip. “You, Reigna, possess a single power—an incredible, unique, and extraordinary, power. You exercised it today.”

  She pulled back. “Again I ask, ‘what are you talking about?’”

  “You have the power to bring someone back to life.”

  “What?” Mara cried, her eyes wide.

  “At your word and on your touch,” Lucy added, her gaze never leaving the young woman.

  Reigna sat, her mouth open, struggling for words. Finally, she asked, “Are you sure?”

  “I’m . . . quite certain.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “But—I don’t want it!”

  “Nevertheless, it is yours. And that leads me to believe that you, Eden,” Lucy said, turning her way, “will possess an equally unique and extraordinary power. It will be the . . . opposite of your sister’s.” She cocked her head.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I believe that you possess the power to bring death to someone upon your spoken word and touch.”

  “No!” she gasped. “I agree with Reigna. I don’t want a power like that.”

  “Yet, if I’ve understood correctly what Ehyeh revealed to me, you have it.”

  Eden held her hand up, palm out. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait. First of all, this sounds . . .” She shook her head. “Listen . . . Reigna is the warrior. I’m a peacemaker. These powers, if indeed you are right, seem . . . wrong . . . backward. Shouldn’t they be the other way around?”

  “Leave it to the Good One, with His sense of humor, to do precisely what He did,” Lucy said with a sad smile. “You see, each of you needs the ability to do that which is the most unnatural to you. For Reigna, a warrior, bringing someone back to life is an ability she will likely exercise . . . sparingly. Likewise, if you, Eden, as a peacemaker, are able to make someone die on your demand that they do so, I suspect that you will use your power only on extremely rare occasions. And this is important, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate.”