Smiling, Lucy put her arms out. “Clarimonde, it has been too, too long.”
The woman embraced her with enthusiasm. Bright eyed, and with a pert and winsome smile, she wore her curled red tresses tied up with a leather band. Pulling back, she patted her hair.
“Oh, Lucy, I am so happy to see you!” She embraced her old friend once again. “You are so right. It has been some years since you last visited.”
“Upwards of a decade, I’d say.”
Clarimonde glanced at the twins at Lucy’s side. She drew her hand to her mouth. “Oh, gracious! It’s them, isn’t it?” she asked, her dark brown eyes sparkling. “The twins. Why, they look just like Rowena!”
Lucy chuckled. “Yes, these are Rowena’s twins.” She motioned for the girls to step up and then introduced them.
“Oh, my,” Clarimonde gasped, “Oh my! It seems like I’ve waited forever to meet you two! And that says nothing of how your sister, Vida, has been feeling.” She turned to the youngsters gathered around her, and then addressed one of them. “Wade, please, run get Vida.”
The boy raced off, clearly anxious to do her bidding.
Mara stepped up and introduced herself.
Finally, Dixon approached.
“Dixon!” Clarimonde exclaimed. “Oh, Dixon!” She threw her arms around him. “It’s so good to see you!”
“Clarimonde, I’ve missed you,” he said with a smile as he returned her embrace. “We all have. Ever since you left with Vida, it’s been as though one of the most important of our ranks has been missing.”
She blushed. “Oh, please, do come in,” she said. Then, glancing out, she noticed the caravan. She turned questioning eyes to Lucy.
“We’re all moving back to the palace,” she offered.
“Oh, I see.” Clarimonde bit her lip.
“We’re intending, of course, that you and Vida will join us,” Reigna said.
Her brow rose. “Well, now, that might prove difficult.”
“Oh?”
“Come in. Come in,” she urged them all forward. “We’ll explain everything.”
At that moment, a woman entered. Taller than average, she gasped upon sight of the twins.
“Vida,” Clarimonde urged her forward with a wave of her hand, “we have visitors. This is Lucy—who you might remember,” she said, tipping her head in her direction, “although it has been some time since you’ve seen her.”
“Yes, of course, I remember Lucy.” As Vida approached, filling the air with her unique scent of the Select—an energetic combination of smells reminiscent of grapefruit, blood orange, jasmine, cedar, and iris—she nodded at her visitors.
“And this is Mara, and Dixon,” Clarimonde added, gesturing toward each of them, in turn. “Dixon and I have known each other since we were children.” She laughed as she glanced his way, as though silently sharing comical memories. “And at long last, your sisters, Reigna and Eden,” she added, tipping her head in their direction, “to whom Mara is Oathtaker.”
The twins stepped up. Somewhat awkwardly, Reigna approached her sister, and then embraced her.
Vida accepted the greeting, visibly taking in her sister’s scent, and then pulled back. Smiling, her eyes brimmed with tears.
“Goodness, I don’t remember Mother all that well—but I know this,” she said, her gaze skipping from Reigna to Eden, “you two are her spitting image.”
“They are,” Dixon said, “but for their hair color, which is a bit lighter than Rowena’s was—and of course, the color of their eyes.”
“You remember Mother?” Eden asked.
Vida hugged, then released, her. “I do. Just barely, but I do.” She grinned. “In truth, your scents remind me a bit of her—and as you no doubt know, smell is a powerful memory trigger.”
The twins turned to Lucy, each with a question in her eyes.
“A couple of the oldest were with Rowena for a short time,” she explained. “As the firstborn, Vida, of course, spent the most time with your mother, and is the most likely to remember anything of her. When she was about . . . What do you think, Vida? About four?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“By the time she was about four,” Lucy continued, “things had become terribly dangerous for the Select in Oosa. That’s when Rowena decided to send all the children then living at the palace, away. Her sister, Eve, had one child, and Dianna had two.” She paused momentarily, in thought. “And, as I recall, in addition to Vida, your sisters, Asmeret and Diella, had been born by then. An Oathtaker had sworn to the safety of each of them upon birth, so that matter was resolved.
“The Oathtakers then took their charges away to predetermined places for their safety. Later, when your mother bore each of your other sisters, and after an Oathtaker had sworn to that newborn’s safety, your mother arranged for that child to be taken away, as well.”
“You’ve never really told us where they all are, Lucy,” Eden said.
“There is one residing in all but one of Oosa’s seven provinces, although their specific whereabouts are kept secret. Your mother’s plan—her hope all along—was that, whatever else happened, at least one of you would survive and come to power one day.” She smiled at the twins. “And now, you two have.”
Clarimonde stepped away. “Please, everyone, let me put the tea on.”
Soon, they were all gathered around a heavy oak kitchen table. Lucy tapped on its surface as Clarimonde set down a tray of tea and fixings. “This is different from the one you used to have,” she commented.
“Yes, we needed a larger table for all of the children.”
“We saw some of them outside in the yard. Who are they?”
Glancing at her charge, Clarimonde asked her, “Would you like to explain?”
Vida grinned. “You might say that they are my charges.”
Her eyes narrowed, Lucy reached for the pot of tea, filled her cup, and then passed it to Mara who sat to her left. “A member of the Select with charges? Ahhh . . . I don’t understand.”
“Well, over the past few years, Ethanward has been flooded with orphaned children. I grew weary of seeing them hungry and ill kept. So Clarimonde and I turned this place into a refuge for them.”
“I see.”
“But, Vida,” Reigna interrupted, “we’re hoping you’ll come to the palace with us. What will become of them then?”
Vida’s brow rose. “I’m not leaving the children.”
The twins glanced at Mara and Dixon, and then turned Lucy’s way.
“But she has to come,” Eden said.
“She is free to do as she chooses, girls. I told you not to get your hopes up,” Lucy said.
Reigna addressed Vida. “Can’t someone else care for them so that you can join us?”
“I’m sorry, I’m—well, that is, Clarimonde and I—are all they’ve got.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry,” Vida repeated.
Mara sat up straighter. She put her teacup down. “Clarimonde, we found the bodies of some dead children on our way here. What might you know of that?”
She rose to her feet. “Dead? Oh, goodness, such a tragedy.” Slowly, she sat back down.
“Yes. Have you any idea what might have happened? What’s going on around these parts?”
Vida sighed. “I wish I’d known about those you found. Perhaps we could have . . . Well, all I can tell you is that we’ve seen to the needs of many young ones over the past few years. I guess word has spread that they’ll be safe here. Often they arrive nearly on death’s door.”
“So, do you think those we found may have been on their way here?”
She shrugged. “It’s possible. Or, to be more accurate, it’s likely.”
“Is that a good idea, do you think?” Dixon interrupted. “To encourage the children to come this way? The dangers out there—”
“What else can we do?” Vida asked. “At least they’ve some chance of survival if they make their way here.”
“I see,
” Mara said, looking down. She bit her lip, then glanced up again. “Well, if it weren’t for the children, Vida, would you agree to go to Shimeron with us?”
“Sure. I mean, I suppose.”
“Then I think I’ve got the solution.”
The twins turned Mara’s way.
“What’s that?” Eden asked.
“I suggest we take them all with us,” she said.
“But . . . what would we do with them all?” Lucy asked.
Reigna sat up straighter. “They’ll stay with us at the palace,” she said.
“I agree,” Eden added.
“Girls,” Lucy cautioned, “we’ve not the resources to care for orphans.”
“But we’d have Vida and Clarimonde—and they’ve already been caring for them. What else do we need?”
“Wait,” Vida interrupted, “there are more than thirty with us now, and new ones arrive regularly. If we leave, there’d be no one left for them here.”
Mara stood and walked to a window overlooking the yard. Several children ran and chased one another. The eldest appeared not more than ten years old, the youngest, likely about four. One of the older girls stood off to the side helping a little one, brushing dirt from her scraped knee.
She turned back to the group. “I suggest we leave a couple Oathtakers here in the event more show up,” she said. She paused, cocking her head. “Vida, where are they all coming from? The children, I mean? And what drives them here?”
“Most are from this province, a few from farther out. Some are children whose parents have abandoned them. Then, of course, there are those who’ve made their way here from Chiran.”
“Oh?”
“They are refugees.”
“I see.” Mara turned Dixon’s way. “Perhaps Chaya, a Chiranian herself, would like to help with the children when we get to the palace.” Then she addressed Vida again. “Would you be willing to go if we took the children with us and left someone here for those who might arrive later? They could get them to the palace, or to some other place of safety.”
“Please,” Reigna urged.
Grinning at her sister, Vida nodded her agreement.
Chapter Six
After Lucy and Dixon had traveled to, and had then dropped Liam and Rafal off with Ezra at, The Clandest Inn in the City of Light, the men had met with Adli, a former Chiranian who’d turned to Ehyeh years back. Now he assisted others in their efforts against Zarek. From him, the Oathtakers got themselves two sets of forged documents. The first provided that they’d been sent into Oosa on a special mission for Zarek. The second assigned them positions as messengers who would travel regularly between the city of Fallique, where the emperor’s palace sat, and Darth, the town to which Marshall and Jerrett had traveled earlier.
Now, having arrived at the border, Liam dismounted. He swept back his shoulder-length dark hair and tied it up with a leather cord. Then he fastened the reins of the gelding he rode next to Rafal’s horse before joining his comrade who hid in a tangle of shrubbery encircling an oak grove.
The smell of damp and rotting leaves filled the air.
“Guards?” he asked.
Rafal nodded. “Yes. Zarek’s army must be vast to have such numbers available to do nothing but watch the border.”
When a crow’s scolding caw sounded out, Liam jumped. “Blasted birds,” he commented. He motioned that he intended to move closer, but before he did, his cohort caught his arm and with a roll of his eyes, pointed out more men.
“Why are there so many here, do you suppose?” Liam whispered. “Do they actually fear others will try to enter Chiran?”
Rafal pondered. “Perhaps they simply fear that more of their own will try to leave,” he said.
Just above them, a crow landed. Staring at the Oathtakers, it flapped its wings and cackled menacingly—maniacally, even.
Suppressing a shudder, Liam grabbed Rafal’s wrist. “Our papers should get us in without fuss. Let’s go.”
As they turned back toward their mounts, a band of four regular Chiranian guards, recognizable by their disheveled appearance and varied weapons, met them. Two more men, outfitted entirely in black, flanked them. These men had wrapped their heads in black cloths, leaving only narrow openings for their eyes. One carried a black flag upon which was the semblance of a human skull with snakes crawling through its eye sockets.
Liam sucked in a deep breath.
“What are you doing here?” one of the men in black demanded to know as he neared.
“We just noticed the commotion and wondered what was going on,” Liam said. “This is the border between Chiran and Oosa, is it not?”
“It is.” The man held a knife with an ugly serrated blade. “You’ve got one chance to turn back, or you’ll become prisoners of Zarek.”
Rafal raised his hands. “Wait. We have our orders. Here—”
“No sudden moves.”
The Oathtaker reached into a pocket of his tunic and drew out a document that Adli had forged for him.
Liam followed suit.
With a tip of his head, the man in black ordered them to approach.
They did, and then handed over their papers.
“What are you doing slinking around here?”
“The troops surprised us, is all. The border wasn’t so closely guarded when we left on our mission.”
The man perused their documents. Once done, he returned them.
“Get on your way then,” he ordered.
Slowly, Liam and Rafal turned away.
They both mounted. Then, side-by-side, they rode over the border and into Chiran.
After riding for days through the barren countryside, Liam and Rafal finally arrived at Darth. They knew a bit about the camp from Marshall and Jerrett. Still, they could tell things had changed since their cohorts’ departure, likely as a result of the death of Cark, its former leader.
They entered the grounds amidst a flurry of activity. Men in training rushed about, shouting. Horses neighing, fires crackling, and the sounds of metal-on-metal as soldiers trained, filled the air. Guards, all dressed in black, like some of those the Oathtakers had seen at the border, kept a close eye on events. Soon, the Oathtakers learned that they were known as “succedunt” soldiers.
Approaching a building someone had pointed out to them earlier as the check-in point, Liam and Rafal watched on as several young men ushered a group of crying and hysterical young women to a building. Liam estimated they ranged in age from their mid-teens, to their early thirties. Nearby soldiers stared as they passed by. Some hooted. Others called out threats their way.
When a boy rushed toward the Oathtakers, a knife in hand, they halted.
The child stopped, just feet away, and made a face at them. “Who are you?” he growled.
Liam waved his hand at him. “Go about your business, little one.”
“Little one!” He ducked his head and charged, weapon first.
Rafal grabbed the youngster’s tunic before he could make contact with his companion and whipped him about. Then he clutched the boy’s wrist and twisted.
“Hold it there. What’s this all about?” he asked as the child’s knife dropped to the ground.
“There, ya see?” came the gruff voice of a man approaching. “Go on, now,” he ordered the young one.
The boy grimaced on sight of the newcomer, then reached down for his weapon. When Rafal stepped on its blade, he looked up at the Oathtaker and growled again.
“Ha ha ha!” the man who neared them all, laughed. “Well, I’ll give ya points for yer efforts, Odin. Now, git ’long wi’ cha.”
When Rafal refused to let the child’s weapon loose, he huffed, then shuffled away.
The man watched him retreat, a smile on his face, then turned back to the Oathtakers. “He’s a good ’un. Jus’ too anxious tuh be a warrior.”
“He’s nothing but a child,” Liam said.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Where ya from?”
“We’ve just retu
rned from a mission into Oosa,” Rafal said. “We came here because our next stop was to bring messages to Zarek. We heard he was here.”
The man watched him closely, as though measuring his words. “Huh. Well, he was here. He came tuh o’rsee the openin’ of the new quarters for the slave wimmen, but he left some weeks back.”
“I see.”
“He has us trainin’ the boys.”
“Oh?”
“Zarek says we can’t start ’em too young. But, Odin . . .” He looked back in the direction in which the child had gone. “Like I said, he’s a bit too anxious.” He turned back. “Now, are ya off ’gain right away then? Or will ya be stayin’ here for a time?”
Liam and Rafal shared a glance.
“We heard Zarek visited here with an entire entourage. Did they all head back to Fallique with him?” Liam asked.
“Most of ’em . . . though Brother Pestifere set off ’fore ’im on some journey of ’is own. I don’t recall that he said where he ’as headed.”
“And Zarek’s son? We heard he accompanied the emperor, as well.”
“Yeah, he ’as ’ere.”
“What was he like?” Rafal asked.
The man shrugged. “Can’t rightly say. Didn’t see much of ’im m’self.”
“I see.” Liam shuffled his foot in the sand. “Well,” he said to his cohort, “I guess we’d best continue on our way to Fallique, then. We’ve a report to make.”
“Agreed.”
With that, he and Rafal set off.
Chapter Seven
A single candle burned, its light flickering, creating dancing shadows on the walls. The room was bathed in quiet, but for some sniffling sounds. Around a table sat Broden on one side, with the woman he called “Mouse” to his left. The man he’d chosen as his tutor upon arriving in Chiran, Striver, sat at his other side. Broden’s other slave women stood nearby.
The tutor opened his mouth as though to speak, but then closed it again. He sighed.
Ephemeral and Fleeting Page 8
