Oathtaker

by Patricia Reding

  As the Oathtakers turned the corner toward the sanctuary stables, a trio of the birds dashed towards Mara. When one pierced Cheryl’s neck with its beak, the mare bucked. Then, another grabbed Mara’s hood and pulled it down. The third rushed toward her face. Quickly, she pulled her arms up and leaned forward. The crow missed her by mere inches.

  She urged Cheryl into the stables. Once under its roof, she quickly dismounted and checked on her ride. “Easy girl, easy. It’s all right, Cheryl. Everything is all right.” She stroked the equine’s neck.

  When Dixon rode up seconds later, she glanced his way to confirm that he was well and safe.

  Blood ran down the back of his hand. Is everything all right? he asked.

  Fine. They missed me. You?

  Blasted things. One of them pecked my hand.

  Yes, I see. Is it bad?

  It’s fine.

  What do you suppose is causing this—with the crows, I mean?

  I have no idea. Let’s just get inside quickly. Oh, here Fidel and Leala are now. I’ll find you in the upper chambers.

  Mara handed Cheryl’s reins to the attendant and then dropped a coin in his hand. “Thank you. Would you kindly tend to her wound?”

  “Certainly ma’am.”

  “I shouldn’t be long.”

  “I saw those crows come at you. They’ve pestered people since yesterday, but not as aggressively as when they came after you.”

  “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

  “Never. I hope they move on, but there seem to be more all the time. They’re a real safety hazard. I heard that earlier today, a large group attacked a child and pecked unrelentingly. Finally, sanctuary guards scared them away, then got medical attention for the little one. So be careful out there.”

  “Yes, thank you, I will.”

  Not many people were assembled on sanctuary grounds where clusters of crows filled the trees, lined up on the backs of benches and railings, and congregated over planters and statuary.

  Mara kept her head down and rushed to the main building. Several birds came at her, but through deft maneuverings, she evaded them all. Once inside, she took her hood down.

  People stood in groups, watching from the windows while sanctuary personnel lent first aid to guests who’d been pecked by the beasts.

  “Are you all right?”

  She turned to the voice. A young Oathtaker watched her, his eyes filled with concern.

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “A whole group of them came at you! They’re getting more combative and hostile by the minute.”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank the Good One, you’re safe. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Oh, no, thank you. I just have a meeting to attend.”

  She started through the main vestibule. The crowds inside were more dense than usual, just as the crowds outside were less so.

  After swerving through the masses and making her way to the back of the building, she approached a staircase leading to the upper floor. She grasped the railing, then began her ascent.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  A fog hovered over her thoughts. She couldn’t seem to fight her way through it. Then came the same sound again that had stirred her just moments before. She willed herself to consciousness, fought to awaken, then opened her eyes. It felt like someone had attached lead weights to her lids. They closed again, heavily.

  “Oh, excuse me, ma’am, I’d forgotten you were in here.”

  Velia dragged her eyes open. The door was closing. She pulled on all of her reserves. “Wait,” she managed to say. Her voice was weak, barely more than a whisper.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Wait. Help me.”

  The maid approached.

  “You were told to stay away from that room!” came a voice from the hall.

  She looked up to the doorway where the hotel proprietor stood. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “It’s all right,” Velia said.

  “I gave you strict instructions to leave that young woman until she awakened. She’s ill.”

  “I’m sorry, I . . . forgot.”

  The Oathtaker struggled to her elbows. “No, I’m not . . . I’m not ill.”

  The proprietor looked in at her, then scowled.

  “Please,” Velia said. “I need her help.”

  He shook his head and moved on.

  “Here,” the maid said, placing a hand behind Velia’s shoulder and pushing her forward.

  “What time is it?”

  “Nearly midday now.”

  “Help me up.”

  “I don’t know, ma’am, I don’t think you’d be safe on your feet.”

  “Ohhhh . . . I think I’ve been drugged. Have you any coffee?”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “Be quick,” Velia pleaded. She leaned back, willing herself not to fall asleep again. Her eyes wanted to remain closed. Her head throbbed. Her body begged to return to slumber. Summoning all her strength, she pulled her legs to the side of the bed.

  The door opened. “Here you go.” The maid rushed to the bedside. She placed a tray on the end table, then poured a cup of coffee.

  Velia inhaled deeply. She felt some small bit of life returning.

  “Careful, it’s hot.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Charlotte.”

  “Charlotte, thank you. Have you any cold water?”

  “Right here.” She pointed to a carafe.

  Velia reached for it. Her hand shook violently.

  “I’ve got it.” Charlotte poured some cold water into Velia’s cup.

  “Nearly midday, did you say?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are the rest of my party up?”

  “Oh, miss, they all left some time ago. The woman checked out for you. That’s why I’d forgotten your room wasn’t empty. I thought I needed to clean it.”

  Velia downed her drink quickly, then held her cup out for a refill. Flashes of memories from the previous night came to her recollection. She struggled to grasp the images as she drank.

  “Thank you.” She took in a deep cleansing breath. “I need your help.”

  “Certainly, ma’am.”

  “I need my horse readied.”

  “Very well, ma’am, I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “Did the woman say where she was going?”

  “No. Well, that is, she mentioned something about sanctuary.”

  Suddenly, Velia recollected all. They were in the City of Light where Lilith intended to trap Mara, Dixon, and the infant twins. She jumped to her feet, but found herself unsteady.

  The maid assisted her. “Careful, ma’am, not too fast.”

  “Charlotte, are you a believer?”

  “Yeeesss. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I need your prayers right now. Prayers for strength and speed. Please, will you help me to get dressed? I’ve got to get out of here—quickly!”

  “Certainly. Shall I order your horse prepared for you first?”

  “Yes, do! Then come back right away. Please?”

  She turned away.

  “And Charlotte, hurry. Hurry! Lives are at stake. Time is of the essence!”

  After she rushed out the door, Velia stumbled to the dressing table. She splashed her face repeatedly with water from the washbasin. Resting her hands on the sides of the bowl, she leaned forward. Little by little, she became more awake. She had to hurry to sanctuary. She had to warn Mara and Dixon. She splashed water over her face once again.

  Charlotte returned. “They’re getting your horse ready now.”

  “Please, help me get dressed.”

  By the time the Oathtaker was clothed, her thoughts came clearer. She downed another cup of coffee, then grabbed her backpack and opened it. “Where is it?”

  “Where is what?”

  Velia ran to the dressing table and brushed aside the items there. They clattered to the floor. Then she ransacked the nigh
t table. “Oh no! Oh, dear Good One. Great Ehyeh!”

  “What is it, ma’am?”

  “Oh, Charlotte, she took it. My Oathtaker’s blade!” Velia slumped down on the edge of the bed and rubbed her head. “Oh!” Anger consumed her.

  She pulled herself back to her feet, set her jaw, and then rushed to the door. “I need a cloak.”

  “It’s right there.” The maid pointed to a garment hanging against the wall.

  “No! I need one she won’t recognize.”

  “Follow me.”

  Charlotte hurried down the stairs, Velia at her heels.

  When they reached the front door, she took a moss colored wool cloak from a nearby hook. “Here,” she said, “take mine.”

  “Oh, bless you!” Velia donned it, then opened the door.

  “There’s the groomsman at the stable door with your horse now.”

  She ran for the stables.

  “Watch out for the crows!” Charlotte called out.

  The groomsman handed over Victory’s reins.

  Velia jumped up into the saddle.

  “Careful,” he cautioned.

  She leaned forward, dug in her heels, and rode away.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Lilith pulled from her bag, one of her signature red dresses. Red always made her feel better. It brought out her deepest emotions. Yes, she mused, she would be seeing red soon.

  Once changed, she slipped her cape over her shoulders, then took from her pocket, a slip of brown wrinkled paper. On it, Edmond had drawn a map to Dixon and Mara’s quarters. She reviewed it to get her bearings. So much rode on her success. She held her head high, pulled up her hood, and then opened the door.

  The hallway was empty. She noted which direction led to the front of the inn, then turned the other way. When she came to the end of the hall, she glanced around the corner. The suite Mara and her cohorts occupied was the only one down that way. Outside stood a single man. He was no Oathtaker, of that Lilith was certain. Still, he seemed alert.

  She turned the corner and marched forward.

  He adjusted his stance.

  She drew nearer.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, may I help you?”

  She stared straight ahead.

  “Ma’am, this hall is not open. You’ll have to turn back now. You’ll have to go back the way you came.”

  She looked him in the eyes and then reached out and turned on the heat.

  “Ma’am,” he choked out, “you have to turn back.”

  Standing just steps from him, she pulled her hood down. “Or what?”

  He choked and gasped, and then, overcome with pain, slumped against the wall. He reached for the door handle, but before he could turn it, Lilith stepped forward, a knife in hand. She plunged it into his belly.

  His eyes widened. He reached down, then brought his hand back up. It dripped blood. “Turn back,” he managed to say before falling to the floor.

  Someone opened the door from inside. There, stood a young woman. She cried out, “Samuel!”

  “What is it?” came a voice from an inner room.

  “Samuel! Jamison’s dead!” She looked up. “And—oh gracious Ehyeh, she’s found us. It’s her! It’s Lilith!”

  Lilith shoved the young woman to the floor. When Samuel entered, she thrust out her fist and twisted it, turning on the heat.

  He fell to his knees.

  “So this is the protection the great Oathtaker leaves for her charges?”

  “Get out,” Samuel said through clenched teeth.

  Lilith grabbed the young woman’s hair and pulled her to her feet. “Come here. Help me move this body.”

  “Oh, Jamison!”

  “Shut up. Take his arms there. I’ve got his legs. Drag him in. Now!”

  When through, Lilith closed the door. Then she pulled the woman’s hair again, yanking her head back. “What’s your name?”

  “Erin. I’m Erin.”

  Lilith looked closely. Her eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”

  “I was with your camp.”

  “Well after today, Erin, you’re going to wish you’d never left. Now where are they?”

  “Get out!”

  Lilith didn’t want to kill Erin. Someone had to help her to get the infants back to sanctuary. She looked around the room. There it was—the door that Edmond said led to the inner chambers where the infants spent much of their time.

  Erin struggled to her feet.

  Once again, Lilith grabbed her arm, turned her around, and then pushed her toward the door. “Open it,” she ordered, her voice just a whisper, her lips to her captive’s ear, her teeth clenched.

  “No!” Erin fumbled with something at her waist. A moment later, she held a knife. She broke Lilith’s hold and brandished her blade.

  “Ha! You’ve got no chance against me. Do you want some of that?” Lilith pointed at Samuel. Then, with Erin’s attention on him, she grabbed her wrist and wrenched it. When Erin’s knife fell to the floor, Lilith pushed her toward the door. “Now open it.”

  “I can’t. I won’t!”

  Lilith reached for the handle, opened the door and pushed her inside. A moment later, Erin fell to the ground.

  Lilith looked up. There stood another young woman, a knife in her hand, blood dripping from its blade. Her eyes were wide in horror and her hand shook.

  “Oh, Erin! Erin, I didn’t know it was you. No!” She crouched down.

  Lilith grabbed her arm and squeezed. The knife fell.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Nina,” she said, disgust and violence in her voice.

  Lilith spun Nina around and pulled her arm up tightly behind her back. Then she looked around the room.

  There they are. The infants. Oh, Daeva, we’ve done it!

  “Here’s what we’re going to do. If you don’t want to see anyone else hurt, you will do exactly as I say.”

  “I won’t help you.”

  “You will. I’m taking those girls to sanctuary, and you’re going to help me.”

  “Sanctuary!”

  “Yes. Whatever they told you about me was a lie. I mean the children no harm. I’m just trying to do right by them.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You can’t afford not to, or I’ll leave you right here next to her.” Lilith tilted her head toward Erin. “Then how much good could you do for them?”

  “All right, all right. What do you want me to do?”

  “I’m going to release you now. Then you’re going to pick up the children and walk out of here ahead of me without any show of resistance or fear. If you don’t, I’ll take them anyway. I’ll just leave you behind . . . dead,” Lilith added after a pause for effect. “And perhaps others as well. So, have I got your agreement?”

  Nina nodded.

  Lilith released her hold. “Get them.”

  Nina turned toward the sleeping twins. Gently, she picked up one, then the other. “Now what?”

  Lilith took a cloak hanging near the door and placed it over Nina’s shoulders, hiding the infants beneath. “Now lead the way to the stables.”

  Nina nearly stumbled over Erin’s body. Tears welled in her eyes, but she kept going. She made her way out to the shared common area and past where Jamison was, clearly dead.

  Samuel groaned. He held his head in his hands. Steam rose up from his body.

  “Leave him be. He can’t hurt you now.”

  “Move!”

  When they approached the door to the hallway, Lilith opened it. “Walk straight forward. Speak to no one.”

  Nina exited, walked down the hall, and then headed out the back door.

  When they arrived at the stables, Lilith smiled at the swarm of crows in the air. “Jabari!” she called.

  He stepped forward.

  “Help her into that saddle.” Lilith pointed to Donagh. “You’ll have to pick her up.”

  He followed her orders.

  Lilith mounted up, then ordered him to hand Bob and Donagh
’s reins over. “Hang on, Nina. Hang on tight. We’re wasting no time.” She moved out into the swarm of crows.

  Jabari waited a minute, then grabbed the reins of a nearby horse. He jumped into the saddle and followed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Edmond watched the grounds below. The squawking, rushing, murderous crows, mesmerized him. He held back a smile as sanctuary guests scurried from one building to another trying to avoid the raucous birds.

  He felt immensely satisfied. He’d waited for this day for a very long time. He thought back to when he was just a child, to when the Council pronounced his father’s sentence. His father exacted a promise from him that very day, a promise to vindicate him. “But don’t forget,” he had said, “a man who seeks his revenge before forty years has passed, has acted in haste.”

  Well, forty years had not yet passed, but more than twenty had. Ever since Dixon’s father prosecuted the case against Madden Chantray, Edmond had waited. Over the years, the idea of getting back at Dixon changed from one of vindication to one of simple personal revenge.

  The time was now. The day had arrived—and it had not come in haste. Edmond had felt every long minute. In this moment, he could barely contain his mirth. For once, Dixon would not come out the victor; for once, he would be under Edmond’s foot.

  It was nearly midday. He waited with baited breath. Soon Dixon and Mara would arrive.

  The sounds of sanctuary guests rushing through the halls made their way to him. He started as footsteps stopped at the door. A quiet moment passed, then they moved on.

  “Patience,” he muttered aloud to himself. “Just have patience.” He turned back to the window and recommenced his reverie.

  A sound came from the door. Slowly, it opened. In walked a hooded beggar, his back bent and his feet shuffling as he stepped inside.

  “Out! You’re not allowed in here!”

  The beggar closed the door behind himself, then reached for his hood. He turned it down as he stood to his full height.

  “Dixon!” Edmond cried, reminding himself to keep his emotions disciplined, his expressions under control. He should be pleased to see his old friend. He smiled. Though it was not genuine, Dixon didn’t seem to notice. “A disguise, huh?” He approached.