Oathtaker

by Patricia Reding

  “Yes,” Mara said, “everything is fine.”

  Samuel approached. “What’s happened?”

  “Everything is fine,” she repeated.

  Therese reached toward the men, her palm extended, indicating that they should back away. She urged her horse closer to Mara. “We feared for you. One second you were there, the next, you weren’t. I’m sure we all thought the same thing.” She looked around. “We thought perhaps you’d been hit from somewhere—that we’d missed something.”

  The Oathtaker shook her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten any of you.”

  “So what is it?” Nina asked. “What made you stop?”

  “I just . . . I just thought about you others who’ve sworn to protect the girls. You all received a confirmation. And it occurred to me what great peace of mind that’s given me.”

  Jules looked at Samuel.

  “Absolutely!” Samuel said as though his cousin had verbalized his question.

  “You’re right, Mara. We should have thought of this before. Samuel and I will swear oaths to protect the girls.” Jules put his hand to his heart. “To put your mind at ease, I solemnly swear that I will protect Reigna and Eden with everything that I have and everything that I am. I would die for them if need be.”

  Just as Mara had hoped, the earth responded with a great shake. The leaves of the nearby trees quivered.

  The young man’s face radiated joy.

  She turned to Samuel. Her brow rose. “Well? Are you game?”

  “Mara, you need never doubt me. I solemnly swear that I will protect Reigna and Eden with my very life if need be.”

  The air seemed to pop. Rocks bordering the roadway broke loose their hold to the earth, then rolled away.

  The travelers all broke out in quiet laughter and applause.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Mara wanted to know more of Lucy, but for now was content to have time to think. She looked forward to her next opportunity to travel. As the hours passed, her concern for Dixon’s wellbeing grew. Would she be too late, even if she could return to his side right this minute? And why was she so obsessed with him and his safety anyway, when she already had so much to handle with the twins?

  As dusk neared, the temperature dropped. The air felt electric.

  Jules had ridden ahead and was now on his way back. His gait easy, his face calm, he indicated that he sensed no danger ahead.

  Nina watched him. She looked expectant, stimulated. Happy? Mara followed her gaze to Jules. “Nina?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you want me to take Eden?”

  “No, I’m fine. But they’ll both need to eat soon. In fact, I’m surprised Reigna isn’t fussing already.”

  The Oathtaker looked up. The sky was an odd mix of gray and green. “It looks like bad weather is coming.”

  Jules approached. His eyes rested momentarily on Nina before he turned his attention to Mara.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “I think we’ve got a storm brewing,” Therese interrupted, as she rode up, Reigna in her arms.

  “That’s what I was just saying.”

  Things suddenly quieted. The air stilled. Everything had a green cast to it, including the travelers’ faces.

  “Did you see any possible shelter ahead?” the Oathtaker asked Jules.

  His horse shuddered, jerked its head, and stomped its foot. The other mounts followed suit. Skittish, their eyes darted about. As though on cue, small bolts of lightning high in the sky flickered on and off.

  “There’s an old building not far from here that looks like a barn built into a hill. It has a chimney, so we should be able to stay warm and dry. I rode up and peeked inside a window. I didn’t see anything—though I admit I didn’t get a very good look. It appears abandoned, so it should be safe. In any case, I think it’s our only option just now.” As he finished speaking, another flash of lightning shot across the sky.

  The hair on Mara’s arms rose. “Let’s go then. Be quick about it, but be careful. We need to get these horses out of this weather before one of them bolts. And besides, with all their gear, they’re easy targets for lightning.”

  As Jules turned away, she called to him. “Wait, Jules—how far is it?”

  “Shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes,” he said as a gust of wind suddenly blew.

  “Let’s go!” she ordered.

  Raindrops fell sporadically, then increased as though they were grasping to catch a rhythm, a beat beyond the riders’ abilities to hear.

  Mara waved her hand, motioning for Nina to go next. “Go!”

  The young woman urged her horse onward with her heels.

  “Quickly! Quickly!” the Oathtaker exclaimed just as both infants cried out.

  Within seconds, the wind became a howl. Rain pelted down, stinging the travelers’ faces. It slapped at the dry ground, then splashed back up, quickly soaking them and their mounts.

  Through the downfall, the outline of what looked like an old gray barn built into the side of a hill became visible. Some wood shingles from its roof broke free. They flipped and tossed through the air.

  “Hurry!” Jules shouted to those behind.

  Nina’s horse stumbled. Fearing it would fall and roll, Mara urged her mount forward, preparing to pull the young woman toward herself if need be. Then the animal righted itself.

  “Are you all right?” Mara shouted over the rushing wind.

  She nodded, then looked toward the barn.

  Jules dismounted. He ran to the door to slide it open upon its rail, but struggled with it. It wouldn’t budge.

  Oh, no, he can’t open the door! It’s locked! Mara bolted toward the barn, dismounted in a flash and tossed Cheryl’s reins to him. She grasped Spira and then, with one deft move, the lock gave way.

  He rolled the door open and seconds later, Nina rode inside.

  Mara rushed to her side. “Are you all right?”

  Therese with Reigna entered, followed by Samuel, who quickly closed the door, cutting off the storm’s fury.

  “I’m fine.” Nina, teetering, handed the now wailing Eden, to Mara.

  Jules grasped the young woman’s hand and helped her to the ground. He hesitated before releasing her.

  Her eyes fixed on him.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she pointed to her mount, “but I’m not so sure about Spot. He tripped and I thought we were going down. I feared he’d crush Eden and me.” She looked at Mara. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Eden may have been hurt. Crushed!”

  “It wasn’t your fault. I should have watched the weather more closely. The storm surprised us is all. You’re not to blame yourself.”

  A gust of wind slammed into the building. The windowpanes rattled and clattered when a small branch brushed against them.

  Nina jumped. “Oh!”

  Mara squatted down, chuckling. “It’s all right now.” She handed the infant back to her, then turned her attention to Therese. “Are you and Reigna all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s get some dry things for the girls then. Here,” Mara handed her pack to Nina, “check my bag.”

  Samuel ran his hands over Spot’s fetlock, then his knee.

  “How is he?” the Oathtaker asked.

  “I don’t see anything wrong, but I want to keep a good eye on him.” He patted the beast’s neck as it reached for the carrot he held.

  “I’m glad of that. We’ll see how he is in the morning.”

  She turned away and looked around. The building consisted of one large room, its back carved deeply into the earth. A hearth graced one exterior wall. Upon the dirt floor, scattered piles of old riding tack, broken bottles and pottery, a few pails with holes, and bits of rope, laid about.

  A ladder stood, leaning against a loft. She approached it to climb, but Jules intercepted her. He assured her he’d give the loft a thorough review.

  She continued her survey. As
she approached the window, hailstones rat-a-tat-tatted against it. A few jumped near the bottom of the door, like popcorn popping.

  “What do you think of a fire?” she asked Samuel. “We could all get dry. I for one,” she grabbed the bottom of her skirt and wrung it in her hands, causing a stream of water to run to the floor, “am soaked.”

  Just then, Jules came back down the ladder. “You see how this is built into the hill?” He pointed to the back of the building.

  “Yes,” Mara and Samuel responded in unison.

  “The upper floor goes back even farther. I think we should check it out, make sure there are no hidden dangers.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Samuel said.

  The men climbed the ladder, then disappeared from view.

  Mara and Nina saw to the girls’ needs while Therese tended the horses, removing their wet saddles and blankets and then brushing them down.

  A few quiet minutes passed, punctuated now and then with a shudder from one of the horses and the howling wind.

  “Mara! Therese! We may have trouble here,” Jules said, his voice strained.

  “Coming!” the Oathtaker cried.

  “I’m not sure you should come up.”

  “I’m coming anyway. I’ll send Samuel down to guard you all,” she said to Therese.

  When she reached the loft, she directed Samuel back down, then turned to Jules. “What is it?”

  He nodded toward the back of the room. They walked for a couple minutes in silence.

  “See how this keeps going back?” he asked. “We only came about this far. We thought we shouldn’t go any further because— Well, do you smell that?”

  A foul odor wafted out of the cavern. Mara put her hand over her nose, then stepped forward. “Oh, gracious!”

  “What? What is it?”

  “There!” she pointed.

  Just ahead, a thick lead chain was attached to the wall. At its other end, was a grut.

  The beast awakened. Its piercing red eyes oozed black mucus. It growled as it pulled itself up on its haunches. Thick yellow saliva dripped from its fangs.

  “That explains the odor,” she said.

  “Back away, Mara.”

  She removed a knife from her boot, confident she could take it out. After all, it can’t hurt me. I carry a grut tooth. She put her arm out to restrain Jules. “I’m going to kill it.”

  “You want me to do it?”

  “No, really, it’ll be my pleasure.”

  She turned back to the grut. Its wary red eyes followed her every move. Its growl turned to a low scream as it strained on its chain, its teeth bared, its tail swinging side to side. Chips of rock broke loose from the walls. Then, as though it could smell the protection the Oathtaker wore, the beast sat back on its haunches and whined.

  “Watch this,” Mara said as she threw her knife. Only then recollecting the blaze that would follow, she sprang back, pulling Jules with her.

  The grut burst into flames.

  Mara and Jules coughed. Moments later, they smiled at one another. The grut had vanished, along with the stench of Sinespe.

  “Well done,” he congratulated her.

  “Thanks. I’ve had some practice.”

  “Did you know it would go up in flames like that?”

  She chuckled. “Yes. Great, huh?”

  He frowned, his brow lowered.

  “Oh, sorry. I wasn’t thinking about that before I threw my knife. You weren’t hurt, were you?”

  “No,” he shook rubble from his hair, “I’m fine.”

  “Good. Let’s keep going then.”

  A few minutes later, they found what appeared to be an altar. It emanated light in shimmering colors: the molten blue of a topaz, the clear purple of an amethyst, the deep and dreamy shades of an emerald, the bold crimson beauty of a ruby. Upon the altar sat a small, open book. Odd though the scene was, it was utterly breathtaking.

  Ba bum, ba bum, ba bum . . . The sound came from the book.

  Mara stepped on something. She glanced down. Human bones laid in awkward positions, as though someone had thrown them, or as though their once breathing owners had writhed in agony before finally succumbing to some greater power. A full skeleton near her feet, still clothed, held a sword in its hand.

  “Fat lot of good that did him,” the Oathtaker commented, gesturing toward the weapon.

  “We should both turn away.”

  Mara contemplated the scene before her. She looked carefully at the book upon the altar. “It’s as though it’s breathing,” she said. “Do you hear that sound?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s something strange here.”

  “You think?”

  She snickered, then turned serious. “Really now, look at the altar. It’s like a shrine. And that book . . . It positively exudes life and beauty. Even the sound of it, like a heartbeat, is like a testimony to life.”

  “So?”

  “So, I have to see what’s there.” She turned toward the altar. When Jules tried to restrain her, she brushed his hand away. “It’s all right. I need to see what the book says.”

  “Careful.”

  “I’ll be careful.” She stepped forward, brushing remnants of an old skeleton from beneath her feet. Smaller bones crunched under her boot. As she got closer, the light from the shrine increased.

  “What was that? Did you see the light change?” Jules asked.

  “Mmhmmm.”

  “Be careful,” he cautioned again.

  “It’s all right. I won’t touch anything.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Wait. Look.” She leaned forward. The light increased. She leaned back. It faded. “You try.”

  Jules moved toward the book. The light dimmed and flickered. The sound from the shrine altered. Where it had been throbbing like a heartbeat, suddenly it seemed to skip a beat. Then it emitted a low, ominous sort of moaning, like a faint cry.

  “Stand back,” Mara said. “Something’s not right when you get close.”

  He retreated.

  Again she stepped forward. The light increased and the sound calmed back down to a steady heartbeat rhythm. She leaned in. The heady scents of smoky sandalwood and sweet vanilla filled the air. Startled, she drew back. The colored lights faded and the scents fainted away.

  Again she leaned in. The light grew until it was so bright that it hurt her eyes, but little by little, they adjusted to it. Every detail of the page to which the book was opened, came to life. It was as though the words rose off the page and lifted toward her.

  “I can read it,” she whispered, glancing at Jules.

  His hand covered his eyes, protecting them from the light. “Well?” he asked.

  “Here it is,” she said. Then she read: “‘Caution to anyone not called to these words of life and of succor. Proceed at your own risk.’”

  “All right, Mara, that’s enough.”

  “No, wait, listen to this. It says: ‘Here are the words of Ehyeh, the Good One, the Author and Creator of all. Here are the instructions for those who may bring restoration and revival, the seventh seventh waited upon, and the other, she who is but is not.’”

  “Can we just go now?”

  “No, there’s more. Listen to this: ‘Only they or their Oathtaker—’” She stopped, swallowed hard, then began again. “‘Only they or their Oathtaker may rescue these Words of Life. Death will come swiftly but surely to all else.’”

  She stepped back. The light dimmed. “Jules!” she cried. “What if this is for Reigna and Eden . . . and me?”

  “How could you know that? What if it’s a trap?”

  She bit her lip. “Look, I know my duty is to the girls. They are my charge. But if these words are for us—for the girls and me, then—”

  “And if they’re not?”

  “If they’re not?” She fixed her gaze on him. “If they’re not, then I guess that today, perhaps, I will die.”

  “Mara!”

  “No, don’t you see?
If these words are for the girls and me, then I have to take them. I have to. If I refuse, I could be putting them in even greater danger. And who knows what this could mean for them?”

  “But what makes you think this is for you? How did it get here? Who put it here? Why was the grut back there?”

  “Exactly,” she said. She paused to collect her thoughts. “It seems there are two ways to look at this. Who could know I’d stop here? Who could know I’d be immune from the grut—that I’d carry grut teeth—protection from the beasts? Who but the most powerful could chain a grut? If all that’s true, then how could this be a trap? But even if some malevolent power chained the grut there, it must have done so to keep others away. Yet the Good One already provided me with a way to pass.” She lifted the tooth that she wore on a string around her neck.

  “Jules, some things can’t be explained away as chance or coincidence. Some things could only be by the design, or at least by the allowance, of the Good One.

  “I have to do this. If I’m wrong, I may end up with this pile of bones here, but at least I’d go knowing I did what I believed was right. And if I’m right but I refuse my duty, then I’d be responsible for any resulting danger to the twins that I could have avoided. I wouldn’t have done my duty by them. And I’d always wonder whether my failure, my own fear or inability to make a decision or to take a risk, was responsible for added danger or harm to them. Better that I meet this head on. For Reigna. For Eden. Don’t you see?”

  He sighed. “Does it say anything else?”

  She leaned toward the book again. “Yes. It says, ‘These Words, these Gifts, are for those Long Awaited Ones.’”

  He shook his head in frustration. “At least let’s ask Therese what she thinks,” he finally said. “I mean, look around you. Others before you might have thought it was for them too and look where they ended up.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “I suppose you’re right. Sometimes I act too quickly, I know. We’ll discuss this with Therese, but I believe I have to see what’s there.”

  “Fine.”

  The two backed out of the cavern and made their way down to the others.

  “What is it?” Therese asked. “What’s up there?”

  Mara described the altar to her, the book that lay upon it, and its message.