At that moment, from out of the stillness, came a grunting, hissing sound. It reminded her of a dog barking.
She turned toward its source. There at the edge of the clearing, sat a black vulture, eyeing her. Seconds later, the air filled with more coughing, as a hoard of its mates, neared.
Just as she prepared to sweep her cape over the basket, one of the beasts flew into her, knocking her over.
She scrambled to get back to her feet.
The beast neared, its sharp, curved beak open to snatch up the babe.
And Mara woke, screaming.
“Are you all right?” Dixon cried.
She struggled for breath as a searing pain stabbed through her middle. As they were coming more regularly, she was now sure; there was no longer any question. She would lose her child. She choked back a cry as a strong contraction gripped her. Then gasping, on her knees, she bent forward, her hands held firmly on her center, as though willing the child to stay put.
“Mara!” Dixon cried. “What’s happening?”
She caught her breath. “I’m so sorry, Dixon.”
She glanced toward the window. Dawn would arrive soon, and with it, the first day in some time without the ever-present company of her unborn. She’d earlier calculated that it was likely somewhere between its twenty-second and twenty-fifth weeks of gestation.
“Please, don’t be,” he said.
She cried. “I’m so sorry.”
“Broden and Carlie will be here soon,” he said. “Do you think there’s anything they can do? Maybe if we begged them for help . . .” His voice dropped away to nothing.
At that moment, Mara felt something trickle down her inner thigh. Shaking, she lifted her skirt.
Blood. It glistened.
“No, Dixon,” she said, “it’s . . . too late.”
“Are you certain, Mara?” Reigna asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes.” She choked back a sob. “I’m bleeding. It won’t be long now.”
“I love you, Mara,” Dixon said. “Whatever else happens, know that I love you.”
She longed for his words, even as they pained her. When another contraction came, then subsided, she responded, “I know, Dixon. I— I’m just so sor—”
“Shhh. Shhh.”
Yet another pain racked her being. When it subsided, she felt something warm and wet, and for a moment, she smelled blood mixed with an almost earthy scent.
She reached down and then took into her hands, a fully formed infant, so small that it fit, all curled up, in the palm of her hand. She estimated that its weight approximately equaled that of her blade, Spira.
“Ahhhhhhh,” she wept.
“Mara?” Eden called.
“She’s . . . beautiful.”
“She?” Dixon asked, a cry in his voice.
Mara pulled her pack toward herself. She rummaged in it for a towel, then wrapped the babe in it. She sat with it in her arms, rocking, weeping, silent.
“She?” Dixon finally asked again.
“Yes. It . . . was . . . a girl.”
“We’re so, so sorry,” Reigna said.
For a moment, she wished the others would just leave her—ignore her. She didn’t have the mental or physical energy to engage with them, to respond.
Just then, the guards entered. Broden, at the front of the pack, carried a bucket of water. Carlie followed, carrying the gruel. Behind them came a handful of the succedunt who stood in the middle of the hall from whence they could oversee things.
Carlie approached the twins’ cell.
Reigna rushed toward the bars. “Carlie,” she whispered, “please help. Mara has miscarried. Please, you must get her to give up that baby. Please. Please, bring the infant to me.”
Eden grabbed her sister’s arm. “No, Reigna.”
“Please, Carlie, please,” Reigna begged. “Bring her to me.”
“What’s going on there?” one of the guards asked.
Carlie filled the twins’ bowls with gruel. “Nothing,” she said, before stepping away.
Upon approaching Mara’s cell, she peered inside. There Mara sat, cradling something in her arms. Seconds later, she keened with grief.
“What’s going on?” the guard demanded to know. He approached the cell and looked inside.
“I believe she’s miscarried,” Carlie said.
“Oh?” He turned to Mara, a smirk on his face. “You’d best give that up—and the sooner the better—before this place smells of death.”
She turned his way. Though too exhausted to so much as glare at him, in that moment she swore to herself that when the opportunity arose, she would kill him. So she took a long and careful look, committing his image to her memory.
“Leave her be,” Broden said, patting the guard’s arm. “I’ll take care of this.”
“Have it your way,” he said, stepping away.
Broden crouched down. “Mara?”
She looked at him.
“Are you all right?”
Her eyes narrowed as she watched him.
“Leave her alone!” Reigna cried.
He hung his head, then looked back up. “May I see?”
She held her dead child even closer and backed further away from the bars.
“Please,” he said. “He’s right, you know. I mean— Well, I’m— You’re not going to be able to keep it in there with you.”
“It is not an ‘it!’” she cried. She looked down at the infant. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “It is not an ‘it,’” she repeated. “It is a ‘she.’”
“May I see her?”
“Her name is ‘Mariella,’” she offered, as though only to herself. Then she whispered, “Shhh, little Ella, it’s all right.”
“Can you let me have Mariella—Ella—now?” His voice remained soft, melodic.
Shaking her head, she neared the wall, all the while holding the infant closely. “Ella is mine,” she whispered.
He bit his lip. “That’s fine then, Mara, you just let me know when you’re ready.”
He stood, then ran his hand across the top of his head and rested it at the back of his neck. Unable to speak openly to her, as the succedunt soldiers made that impossible, he set about his duties.
Throughout that and the next long day, Mara sat in her cell silent, holding Mariella tightly to her chest. Although Dixon tried several times to get her to give up the infant, she refused to respond to him, or to engage with anyone else.
As the sun neared the horizon on the afternoon of the third day, Carlie, walking down the hallway, peeked inside Mara’s cell as she placed the bundled Mariella on the floor and pushed her toward the bars. Once done, she fell back in a heap and wrapped her arms over her head.
Carlie got down on her knees and reached inside. Her fingertips barely touched the wrapping. She pinched a bit of it and then pulled. When the bundle was close enough, she picked it up. Removing the draping from over the infant’s face, the sight of the child struck her, momentarily, dumb. Somehow, she hadn’t imagined the perfection she’d find there.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You’re right, Mara,” she whispered. “Ella was beautiful. Just like her mother.”
“Hey—ahhh, Mouse,” Dixon whispered, using the name Broden used for her, “please, may I see her?”
“What’s this?” a guard asked stepping closer.
“I just want to see my child,” Dixon snapped.
He grinned. “Sure thing.” He turned to Carlie. “Let ’im see.”
She brought the bundled infant to him and handed her over.
Dixon opened her wrappings and looked. Tears filled his eyes. Taking her tiny hand, he examined her fingers. Moments later, his shoulders shook with grief as he brought her to his chest and held her there.
“That’s enough now,” the guard ordered. Turning to Carlie, he added, “You and Broden will need to dispose of it.”
Dixon glared at the man. Then, after taking a final look at Ella, he handed her back to Carlie
.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Wait! Mouse!” Reigna cried. “Mouse!”
When the guard shrugged at her, she stepped toward the twins’ cell, the bundle in her arms.
“Please, give her to me.” Reigna held her hands out, between the bars of her cell.
Eden grabbed her sister and pulled her away. “You can’t, Reigna.”
“Oh, yes I can! Mara has lost enough as Oathtaker to the two of us.” She struggled to pull free. “This is one thing I can give to her—and it’s not too late. The sun has not yet set on this, the third day. But if I’m to act, I have to do so quickly.”
Confused, Carlie watched on, as Reigna finally extricated herself from her sister’s grip and returned to the cell door. “Give her to me, Mouse,” she said again.
“Listen!” Eden cried, clutching her arm again. “Please, Reigna, listen to me. I want you to think about this. Mara’s body—her womb—was the safest possible place on earth for Mariella. It was the one place to which Ehyeh could call forth her new spirit to grow—to prepare her for the world.” She paused, swallowed hard. “Reigna, it’s not easy to lose a child—or even intentionally to rid oneself of one. That’s because a mother’s body—her womb—is intended to be, is designed to be, a haven. A safe haven.”
She dropped her head and shook it, then looked back up, and whispered, “If Mariella could not survive there, how long do you think she could survive out of there? Please, listen to me. You would be crazy to think of doing what you’re considering.”
“Leave me be, Eden.”
“Please,” she pleaded, in a voice so low that no one else could hear, “I beg of you. Consider the cost. Someone would die. Mara could be the one we lose.”
Reigna glared at her twin. “So you’re thinking only of us? Of yourself?”
“Or Dixon. Have you considered that? How would Mara feel if he paid the cost?”
Once again, her sister pulled free of her grip.
“Please, Reigna, you cannot do this. What if you brought her back, only for Mara to experience the loss of her all over again? What then?”
“I was given this ability for a reason,” her twin snapped.
“Yes,” Eden agreed, wiping away an errant tear, “but maybe the reason was to test you—to find out if you’d venture to take on Ehyeh’s own power over life and death. Maybe He gave it to you to determine if you’d use it. Maybe—just maybe—you’re not supposed to. Have you considered that possibility?”
Reigna turned away. With tears now flowing down her cheeks, she dropped to her knees, then turned and sat with her back against the wall.
“What do you want me to do?” Carlie asked.
Eden crouched down at her sister’s side. “Tell her, Reigna. You know what she should do. Tell her.”
She hung her head. Then, “Take her away,” she said. “Just . . . take little Ella away.” She gulped back a sob. “But please, please see to it that she gets a proper burial.”
A week passed after Mariella’s death, each day bringing the same routine. Mara took the clean strips of cloth that Carlie had managed to leave for her, and bound them close to herself to soak up her remaining loss of blood. As the days passed, her discharge lessened. Even so, during most of that time, she sat silent, morose. But on the morning of the eighth day, she awakened with a renewed commitment.
She’d never been a quitter. She’d never been a whiner—although truth to tell, the past year or so did not stand as particularly convincing testimony to that fact. Even so, she was not one of those people who was happy being miserable. And so, she’d determined, it was time to move on.
Several times over the course of the day, she dropped down to the floor and exercised her waning muscles, pushing herself up, then dropping back down, over and over again. She would renew her strength, no matter the cost.
When nighttime finally descended, and Broden, Carlie, and the succedunt guards left the prison, she called out to the others. “Listen up!” she said.
The sounds of her cohorts’ shuffling filled the air.
“Are you all right, Mara?” Dixon asked. She’d said next to nothing over the past days.
“I’m fine. I’m sure the grieving will never go away, but it’s time to turn my attention—our attention—elsewhere. Today is the eighth day since—” Pausing, she swallowed hard, then continued. “Today is the eighth day. The day of new beginnings. Now, we’re going to get out of here. We just need a plan.”
“I’m so sorry, Mara. I should have saved her,” Reigna whispered.
“No, Reigna. You did the right thing. Ultimately, little Ella could not have survived here.”
“I’m sorry too, Mara,” Eden offered.
“I know. But I’m going to be all right. Now,” she said, taking in a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, seeking to sound stronger than she felt, “as I was saying, we need a plan.”
“Well, of course, the first order of business is to get these cells open,” Aliza said, banging her tin cup on the bars. “Perhaps I can convince one of the guards that he should follow my orders and open them.”
“I doubt that would work,” Mara said, “since they are all well aware of your true identity.” She paused, then added, “I sure hope Lucy gets some answers on our leak.”
“Yes,” Dixon agreed.
“And you’re right—about my use of my magic,” Aliza said. “Truth to tell, I’ve tried—unsuccessfully, I’m sorry to say. The guards just give me a strange look and then move on.”
“All right then,” Mara said, “for the sake of our discussion, let’s assume we manage to get out of our cells. Then what would we do?”
“If there are guards here at the time, Mara,” Dax said, “as I suggested to you earlier, you could sing them to sleep. If everyone knew in advance, a cue that you would use to indicate that you were about to do so, they could be ready for it.”
“Ready for it?” Reigna asked.
“Yes. You’d all have to cover your ears so that you wouldn’t hear her and fall to her magic. Of course, I wouldn’t be subject to it in any case.”
“And try to make our escape in broad daylight? I don’t think so,” Dixon said.
“If the opportunity arises, we try to make our escape no matter the time of day or night,” Dax said. “We need to prepare for any eventuality.”
“Reigna and I could get away under Mother’s cloak.”
“No,” Mara said, “I’ll take you girls with me.”
“If we get free,” Aliza ventured, “you have to get the twins to safety first, Mara. Then Dixon should take Dax with him.”
“No,” Dax said.
“You are more important to Oosa’s troops than I am,” she argued. “They need you. You’ll find a new second-in-command. I’m afraid I’ll be a casualty to this war,” she ended in a whisper.
“No, you will not. I’m the commander here, don’t forget.”
“I’ve only one problem with that,” Mara said.
“What’s that?” Reigna asked.
“I would never be able to face Nina again if I had the chance to see Carlie to safety, but failed to take it.”
“Then take her in my place,” Eden said.
“No!” Mara exclaimed. “That is not an option.”
“Dixon, if you can, you should take her instead of me,” Aliza suggested.
No one said anything.
“Dixon?”
“Fine, Aliza, I will.” Then he asked, “Should we plan, Mara, to meet up somewhere afterward?”
“Mara,” Reigna interrupted, “we could always go to the place where we first met Zarek. You know—by those two rocks at the stream. Our captors tied the boats to them.”
“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t conscious. Remember?”
“Oh yes, of course, that’s right. Well in any case, if you headed out from the city gates and went straight west, you’d find it. From there the river runs to an area near Aliza’s former camp.”
“Actually, I thi
nk we should all head for Marshall’s camp. That way, we’ll know everyone—” She swallowed hard. “That way we’ll know that everyone we could get out safely, made it.” She paused and then said, “If we should have to leave either or both of you, Dax and Aliza, Dixon and I will come back for you as soon as possible.”
Then, “What of Broden?” Eden asked.
“Eden—” Reigna started.
“I refuse to believe that he’s doing any of this voluntarily.”
“We’ve seen nothing to suggest anything to the contrary,” her twin argued.
“And how, exactly, would he let us know that? They watch him continuously.”
“I’m sorry, Eden, I just don’t trust him.”
For a moment, no one said anything.
Then, “Once Aliza and I are out of here,” Dax piped up, “her magic will again be of use.”
“True,” Aliza agreed.
“Now,” he continued, “back to plans. What signal, Mara, will you give when you intend to make the guards sleep?”
Mara watched as a cockroach ran up the wall at her side. She grabbed her pack and flung it at the creature. When it fell to the floor, she stomped on it, repeatedly, not quitting until certain it was dead. Then she kicked it away, out of her sight.
“Cockroach,” she said by way of explanation. Then, “I’ll hit the bars hard, three times, with my tin cup here,” she said as she struck the bars with it, but not too loudly.
“Got it,” Dixon said.
“It’s a plan,” Dax agreed. “Now, what about these locks and these bars?”
With that, they all went silent.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Lucy had intended to drop Basha off and then head directly back to the city, but events at the border camp delayed her. Each day brought new dangers, problems, and warnings. Now, dawn not having even arrived, yet another descended upon them all.
She jerked up at the sound of screaming.
“Stop him! Stop him!” someone shouted.
“Hurry!” another voice called out.
Sitting up, Lucy grabbed her boots to don them. Then, thinking better of the delay it would cause, she jumped down from the wagon that had been allotted her, and ran toward the commotion. Soon, several more Oathtakers came running out from their wagons and tents, joining her. As they lit flares to help guide their way, they all rushed toward the sound.
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