“Lucy. Lucy!” Reigna called. “Lucy, wake up!”
Slowly, she rolled her head from side to side. Then she put her hand on the spot where she’d been struck.
“Great Ehyeh,” she mumbled, trying to sit up before falling back again.
“Are you all right? Lucy!” Eden cried.
She rubbed her head. “What happened?”
Fuming, Broden marched to his quarters. Upon arrival, he found his tutor, along with Yasmin, Farida, Ghazala, and Clementine, waiting for him.
“Where’s Carlie?” Striver asked.
Audibly blowing out his breath, Broden shook his head. “They wouldn’t let her leave with me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, but something’s up.” He paced, then stopped dead in his tracks. “If they hurt her, I swear—”
“She’ll be all right,” Striver tried to assure him.
“Listen, we need to move forward with our plan as quickly as possible,” Broden said. “I’ve got to get my friends alone—even if only for a minute. They think I’m on Zarek’s side in all of this. I need for them to know the truth!”
“We’re ready with the plan,” Yasmin said.
Broden stood, one hand on his hip. He wiped his other hand over the top of his head. “I wish I could offer you safety.”
“This is more important, Broden.”
“Still, I’d feel better if I knew for certain that the crystals would work for you.” He held Yasmin’s gaze. He was grateful he’d carried some of the miniature weapons when captured from the compound, and even more so, that he’d managed to hold on to them all this time. Even so, there would be no opportunity to test in advance, whether they’d work for her and his other friends.
“If not, we’ll come up with something else,” Striver offered.
“No matter what happens,” Broden said, “if they catch you and take you hostage, I won’t be able to do anything about it.” He choked back a cry.
“We know, Broden,” Yasmin said. “It’s all right.”
“You should use the resulting confusion to make your way to safety,” he suggested.
“There is no safety here in Chiran.”
He growled in frustration. “Fine. Let’s go over the plan again then.”
Striver directed Broden to a table. Before him, he placed a sketch that he’d made of the women’s prison.
“We’ve determined that the place where Zarek is holding your friends is probably right about . . . here.” He tapped on the drawing. “Now, when we get an opportunity, we’ll throw a few of the crystals to cause explosions. From what you told me about these weapons, you should hear the commotion from where you’re stationed.”
“That’s what we discussed, yes,” Broden agreed, nodding.
“How big are the explosions, did you say? How far away do we need to be?”
Broden pointed toward the door. “No closer than from me to there, for sure,” he said.
“So, that’s about . . . six, maybe seven full strides,” Farida said.
“Yes, that sounds about right.” Broden turned back to Striver. “Show me where you’ll throw them.”
The tutor looked his drawing over. “We don’t want to hurt any of the women prisoners unnecessarily, but we’d like to take out as many of the guards as we can and cause as much other damage as possible.” Once again, he tapped on the map. “You see here?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Some weapons arrived today. They’re in a wagon that will stay there until guards arrive the day after tomorrow to unload it. The remainder will be sent to the border.”
“That was fortuitous—that they just arrived, I mean.”
“Yes, and,” Striver grinned, “there’s more in storage right about here.” He pointed at another spot on the map.
“More weapons? Since when?”
“Earlier today, several other loads arrived.”
“Yes,” Yasmin said, “and tomorrow three wagonloads of women who were captured near the Oosian border are due in, as well. The guards will march them past the building right here.” She showed him the place.
“With your help,” Broden said.
“Right. As always, I’m to assist with keeping the women calm and directing them inside until they’re due to depart again.”
“But the guards might see you if you throw a crystal.”
She knelt at his side. “I don’t think so. They are very small, these weapons of yours. When I’m sure the guards’ attention is diverted, I’ll throw one at the door, here,” she said, noting another spot on the map. “We might as well cripple Zarek’s cause as much as possible while we’re at it.”
“The explosions should alert the guards on your side of the prison, to the problem,” Striver commented. “Then you must convince them that they should run to lend aid. Hopefully, they’ll look on it as a sign that you’re on their side.”
“And when the guards leave my side of the prison to help you, I’ll get a chance to talk with my friends,” Broden said.
“That’s right.”
“Are you sure about this?” He looked at each of his friends in turn.
“They’ll never know we caused the trouble,” Striver said. “We’ll make sure of it.”
Broden paced. “Is there any way you can use the distraction to escape? Take Yasmin and the others with you?”
Farida stepped up. “Striver, if the opportunity arises, you should go. But you can’t take everyone. So you must take Clementine first.”
Yasmin and Ghazala nodded their agreement.
“No,” Broden said. “Tomorrow, Clementine goes with Mouse and me. I can’t have her in the middle of all of this.”
“Very well,” Striver agreed.
“All right. One last time then: are you sure about this?” Broden asked.
“We can do it,” Farida said.
Broden sat down and reached for Clementine. When she stood before him, he cupped her elbows. “I’m concerned for you,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I pray nothing goes wrong tomorrow. I just want you to know how terrible I feel—putting you in the middle of all this.”
The girl glanced at the others, then turned back. “It’s all right, Broden,” she said.
He rubbed the back of his neck, then put his hand on the drawing. “Fine then, we’re agreed,” he said. “Now, I won’t need much time, but the more ruckus you cause, the more likely I’ll get my chance to speak to my friends.”
“Tomorrow then?” Striver asked.
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
At that moment came a shuffling sound outside the door.
Striver grabbed his drawing and rushed to the fireplace. He dropped it over the flames just as the door opened.
A guard stood in the threshold. “Broden,” he said, “Zarek awaits you.”
Moaning, Lucy sat up.
“Are you all right?” Mara asked.
“Yes, I’m . . .” She rubbed her head. “Never mind me. How about you? How are you feeling?”
Mara briefly explained how she’d lost Mariella.
“Mariella?”
“Yes, ‘Ella’ for short.”
“Ella! Oh, goodness.”
“What is it?” Dixon asked.
“Oh, Mara, Dixon, Basha was telling me the other day that Felicity had been crying for one she called ‘Ella,’ for the longest time. No one knew who she was talking about.” She swallowed hard. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, Lucy,” they responded in unison.
A quiet minute passed. Then Reigna spoke up. “You took quite a blow to the head.”
Lucy groaned. “I’m going to kill him,” she said.
“Who?”
“Percival.” She seethed. “I don’t know how he managed to get information to Zarek, but clearly, he did.” She stood, unsteadily, then approached the bars of her cell. On sight of Vivacitas, she grabbed her weapon’s handle and pulled.
“You won’t be able to loosen it,” Mara sai
d, “so you can save your breath.”
She tried, nevertheless.
“Why did you come here? I told you not to.”
Still struggling with her blade, Lucy said, “I wanted to help.”
“And now look where we are.”
“Lucy, who was that with you?” Reigna asked.
She let go of Vivacitas. Then, pacing, she said, “That was Petrus.”
“Who?” Dax called out.
“Petrus. You remember. You trained with him. Petrus Feoras. He’s been assisting us in your stead.”
“Ahhh, Lucy . . . I don’t think so.”
“What are you talking about?”
Dax was silent for long seconds. Then he said, “Lucy, tell me again about Petrus’s charge.”
The other Oathtakers and the twins all drew near the bars of their cells, curious as to what he was talking about.
“What’s this all about?” Dixon asked.
“Tell me, Lucy,” Dax said again.
She sighed. “I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. Like I told you, Petrus had a charge. He swore to his safety shortly before I first met him—and that was— Oh goodness, it was decades ago. His charge’s name was ‘Tam.’ He was just a child at the time.”
Again, Dax went quiet for some time. Then finally, he said, “You told me when we were in the city, that you wanted to recruit Petrus. If I recall correctly, you also told me that his charge had only recently died of old age.”
“That’s right.” Lucy huffed. “Honestly, Dax, what is the problem? They’ve taken Petrus away—likely for further questioning. He knows all about our plans and might be forced to give the information over. You know, Percival knew that Petrus would be with me. He must have informed Zarek of that fact!”
She paced. Then, she said, “Presumably, Percival also told him about our various powers. They must have concluded that Petrus would pose little risk to Zarek. That’s why they captured him. Oh, great Ehyeh,” she moaned, “what if they torture him for information? His attendant power that allows for him to withstand significant pain could prove helpful, but even it won’t last forever. What if they hurt him?”
“I don’t think that’s our primary problem,” Dax said.
Lucy stomped on a skittering roach. “What are you talking about?”
The sounds of Dax’s pacing filled the air. Then, “Lucy,” he said, “if it’s true that Tam died only recently, then why is Petrus an old man?”
She pulled back. “An old man! An old man? He’s as youthful as I am!”
“No, he is not.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if his charge died only recently, that he should, as you say, appear as young as you. But the man who was here, did not.”
“I thought he looked young,” Mara said.
“Trust me,” Dax said, “he must be using some sort of glamour or something. Whatever magic it is, it worked on you all, but not on me. I saw through it.”
“But what could that mean?”
“Dax, I’m sure you’re mistaken,” Lucy interrupted. “There wasn’t much light in here. You just didn’t see clearly.”
“I saw clearly, Lucy. That man was old. As I think on it, I agree that it was Petrus—but an old Petrus. He must have lied to you about his charge. And Lucy—if he lied to you about that, what else do you suppose he might have lied to you about?”
Chapter Forty-Nine
His heels clicked on the floor as, guarded, he made his way to Zarek’s room of mirrors. He’d never been inside it before and was confused as to the man’s unusual request. Why ask to see him now? Had Striver or one of the women deceived him? Had someone told Zarek something of their plans? Surely, none of them would have betrayed him. Would they? But if not, whatever else could be going on?
As they neared, he noticed more guards coming down another hallway toward them. In their midst was Brother Pestifere, and at his side, a grut.
Involuntarily groaning at the discovery that the priest had returned, Broden cocked his head. The man looked different, somehow. He wasn’t using his staff—and he walked without his usual limp.
“In,” a guard said, his voice clipped.
Following his command, Broden stepped inside.
There, Zarek sat, surrounded by mirrors. “Sit,” he ordered.
He sat.
Just then, Pestifere entered.
Broden’s eyes narrowed upon sight of him. Yes, there was something different. He looked—refreshed.
“Welcome home,” Zarek greeted the priest.
“It is good to be back.”
“How’d my guards do?”
Pestifere cracked the closest thing to a grin that Broden had ever seen. “Excellently. She is in custody.” He turned Broden’s way, suddenly all business. “Now, about you—”
Broden got to his feet.
“I said, ‘sit,’” Zarek ordered him. Once he’d complied, the emperor turned to Pestifere. “You know we can’t force this.”
The priest glared at Broden. “You are running out of time. Your . . . father,” he stressed the word with a grimace, “needs to know where your loyalties lie. So . . . whose side are you on?”
Broden leaned back. At this stage, he contemplated just telling the truth. But if Zarek killed him, his friends would never know what really happened.
“I’m not ready to commit,” he finally said.
“Daeva!” Pestifere called.
In the midst of one of the mirrors, a ghoulish countenance burst forth, surrounded by what appeared to be flames that, notwithstanding their heat, consumed nothing. Instantly, the temperature in the room rose, and with it came smoke in twisted tendrils, looking as though it climbed up a trellis.
Broden broke out in a sweat. The heat and smoke made breathing difficult.
“Meet Daeva, the chief underlord,” Zarek said.
He looked at the spirit. He felt the evilness of the creature crawl over his skin. So this was what his mother had followed—what his father followed, even now. Did they know something he did not? What was the attraction?
“Sssssso, we finally meet,” Daeva said.
Broden nodded.
“Brother Pesssstifere is right. You are nearly out of time, my young one. But you should know that the other sssside—that of Ehyeh and Hissss Select and Oathtakerssss—hassss failed. You want to be winner, do you not?”
He shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Then sssswear your allegiancccce to me before it issss too late.”
For a moment he contemplated what it might be like if he did as they asked. It certainly would make things easier. But then, shaking his head, he said, “I’m not prepared to do so, as yet.”
Pestifere stomped his foot. “What is keeping you?”
Broden turned his way. “All I’ve ever asked of you, is answers to my questions. Until I get them, I’m unable to make a decision.”
“Take him away!” the priest growled.
At that moment, the door opened, a guard entered, and then, quite unceremoniously, he ushered Broden out.
When he arrived back at his suite, he found Carlie, safe and sound. She was seated at the table, a cup of rose petal and lemongrass tea before her, its sweet scent filling the air.
She jumped to her feat. “Broden!”
“Oh, thank Ehyeh!” he cried. He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so sorry, Mouse! I didn’t want to leave you behind, but . . . there was nothing I could do.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, patting his chest, “but all is not well.”
“What happened?”
“Sit down.” Once he’d done so, she told him about Lucy’s arrival and capture.
“She had someone with her, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. In all the confusion, I didn’t get a good look.”
Broden slumped. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Wait a minute!” he said, jerking back up.
/>
Striver, listening in, approached. “What is it?”
Broden explained about his audience with Zarek, Pestifere, and the lord of the underworld.
Striver’s eyes narrowed. “Brother Pestifere is back?”
“Yes.” Broden tapped on the table. “And . . .”
“And what?
“And Pestifere told Zarek that ‘she’ was in custody. You know . . . I think Lucy brought him here.”
“What?” Carlie cried.
“I think she brought him here. I do! Pestifere seemed very pleased with himself.” He shook his head. “But how could she do that? I thought she—”
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Striver cautioned him. “As to Pestifere telling Zarek that ‘she’ was in custody, even assuming he meant Lucy, it doesn’t follow that Pestifere arrived here with her.”
“No, Broden, I think you’re right.” Carlie put her cup down on a saucer to a clink sound. “I didn’t recognize him in the prison because I didn’t get much of a look, but even then I thought there was something . . . familiar about him. As you well know, he ordered me beaten some time ago. His voice is one I’m not likely to forget—ever. It was him! I’m sure of it!”
Broden’s jaw clenched. Then, “Did anything else happen?” he asked her.
She explained how Zarek’s guards had made her strip Lucy of her blade and other weaponry, as well as of the bag of crystals that generally hung from her belt.
Broden dropped into a chair. “When does this end?” He hung his head.
“There has to be something we can do,” Carlie said.
Turning her way, Broden confirmed that the next day, they would set their plans into motion.
Carlie patted his knee. “Good. When Striver and the others cause their disturbance, you might at least get the opportunity to tell Lucy the truth. Maybe she’ll be able to think of something that you—that we—can do to help them all.”
“There’s nothing else to be done,” Striver agreed.
Sighing, Broden said, “I’ve missed Lucy so much. She’s been like a mother to me. You know?”
He stood, made his way to a window and looked out. “I appreciate that a lot of people find her . . . difficult, but I owe my life to her. Without her intervention, Ehyeh only knows what might have happened to me.”
Ephemeral and Fleeting Page 38
