Ephemeral and Fleeting

by Patricia Reding

  “That’s why I stopped by.”

  Her eyes met his.

  “Carlie and I, ahhh . . . We prepared Mariella’s body for burial, then placed it in dry sand inside a solid silver box. Once done, we locked it. In the hopes of bringing her back home one day, I buried her in a shallow grave.”

  He glanced at Dixon before looking back her way. When she said nothing, he took a deep breath, then continued. “When Dax, the twins, and I, made our way out of the prison, I insisted we first retrieve her remains. They are here, now.”

  She held his gaze. “Thank you.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “In truth—” He stopped short.

  She put her hand on his. “I know it’s hard, Broden, but it’s all right. You can say what you need to say.”

  He brushed away tears that had pooled in his eyes. “We should get her in the ground as soon as possible—as soon as you’re feeling up to it.”

  She looked Dixon’s way. “She was so beautiful.”

  “Yes, she certainly was,” he agreed. “Like Carlie said—she was beautiful like her mother.”

  She smiled wanly.

  “I . . . ahhh—” Broden began.

  “Yes?” Mara asked.

  “I thought the two of you might take a quick trip to the palace. I hope you don’t mind, but I spoke to the twins. They agreed that you should place Mariella’s remains in the grounds there. After all, you’ve no connection to this camp here and . . .” His voiced trailed off.

  Mara turned to Dixon. “What do you think?”

  “I suppose, so long as just the two of us go, it would be fine. But, for now, I don’t want you taking any chances traveling with anyone else.”

  She nodded. “Agreed.”

  “If I might suggest something more,” Broden said.

  “Yes?”

  “Your family and friends are, quite understandably, at a bit of a loss as to how to handle this all. They want to be there for you—and to acknowledge your loss.”

  “What do you suggest?” Dixon asked.

  “Actually, it was Basha and Velia’s suggestion. They’ve planned a short ceremony—if that’s all right with you.”

  “Sure. We’d like that,” Mara said, as Dixon nodded in agreement with her. “Would tomorrow work?”

  “Tomorrow it is,” Broden said, as he stood. “Well, I’d best get back to things. I’ve been filling Lucy in on everything I can recall from my time in Chiran—in the event any of the information might come in handy.”

  He stepped away, then turned back, a grin on his face. “What’s more, I’m only now becoming accustomed to having an Oathtaker to call my own. I suspect Dax is already wondering about my whereabouts.”

  Mara chuckled. “He’s a good man.”

  “That he is. So . . . tomorrow then. Let’s say . . . at daybreak?”

  “Daybreak it is. Thank you, Broden—for everything.”

  The next morning dawned as spring birds hooted, and sang, and called.

  All the camp residents stood at attention, awaiting the arrival of Mara, Dixon, and the twins. One of the company, who happened to have a fiddle, played a sweet, but melancholy, tune. The notes lifted in the air, then seemed to hang there, inviting listeners to contemplate.

  Lucy and Dax stood in the center of the crowd with Broden, who held a solid silver box, at the center of which was depicted, a lone dove.

  When Mara, Dixon, and the twins, arrived, the camp residents made room for them to pass through to the center of the crowd. Along the way, their friends offered their condolences.

  As Mara neared where Broden stood, Basha stepped forward and then embraced her friend. Once done, Velia and Jerrett did the same. Mara thanked them for their kind words. Then she and Dixon met Broden, who held the silver box toward them. They each placed a hand on it.

  Mara inhaled slowly, deeply. “Thank you all,” she said as she looked out over the crowd. She paused, momentarily, before continuing. “I am reminded of a prayer I once heard from a woman who’d lost her only son as the result of a tragic event. I may not get her words exactly correct, but I’d like to share the spirit of them with you all.”

  She bowed her head and recited:

  Taken from us too soon,

  Your life was

  Ephemeral,

  A fleeting thing.

  Yet with us you shall always be.

  Henceforth, we will

  Feel you with each breeze

  That wafts across our shoulders,

  See you in each glimmer

  On freshly fallen snow,

  Hear you in every dove’s coo.

  Yes, our darling Mariella,

  You were taken from us too soon.

  Yet with us,

  You shall always be.

  Mara blinked fast to keep her eyes from tearing up, then turned to the twins. After embracing them both, she faced Dixon.

  He took the box from Broden. “Mara and I will journey to bury Mariella on the palace grounds, in Shimeron,” he said to the crowd. “We . . . ahhh . . . Well, we expect to return before nightfall, but given our new appreciation for how quickly things can change, at this time we merely say, ‘Farewell. We hope to see you soon.’” With that he turned back to Mara and took her hand.

  A second later, the two disappeared.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  After Mara and Dixon returned from their trip to the palace to bury Mariella, they met with the twins. They decided that going forward, considering Mara’s recent troubles with traveling, they would institute some changes. Thus, after much deliberation, they determined that they’d discontinue the practice of keeping the identities of the Council members secret. They simply didn’t have the luxury of continuing to do so. Once done, they called a meeting for the Council and all of the leaders to be held at Marshall’s camp.

  Shortly thereafter, Dixon and Lucy set out on a series of quick trips to bring the necessary personnel to the camp. In addition, at Vida’s request, Dixon also delivered her and Clarimonde there, one at a time.

  Finally, all was in order for their scheduled meeting. The sun at its zenith shone brightly as birds chirped merrily. The smells of open-grill cooking filled the air. The camp fairly buzzed with activity.

  Marshall made his way around a corner, then stopped mid-stride upon sight of Chaya.

  “Marshall,” she said, tipping her head.

  He smiled. “You’re looking well. It’s good to see you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Oh?”

  “You know, you’ve gained quite a reputation around this place. It seems you’ve worked miracles with some of the children.”

  “Oh?” she repeated.

  “In truth, you’ve become a favorite here—both given your expertise in helping with the little ones, and as a teacher.”

  “I’m doing all right, I guess.” She swished her short ebony hair away from her bluebird colored eyes. Then, “I have to go,” she said. “I told Clarimonde that I’d see to the children while she attends the meeting.”

  “I see.”

  She folded her arms. Then, shaking her head, she said, “You know, Marshall, you’re a mystery to me. After weeks—months—in Darth together, planning our escape, we finally made it out. But no sooner did we leave the compound, than you . . . abandoned me.”

  “Abandoned you!”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What else would you call it? You’ve avoided me every step of the way.”

  He shuffled his feet. “Chaya, I didn’t mean to avoid you.”

  She scoffed. “Well, you had a funny way of showing it.” With that, she stepped away.

  He ran to catch up with her, and with a hand at her shoulder, brought her to a stop.

  “Chaya, my intention wasn’t to abandon you,” he said as he shuffled his feet once more. He looked away, then turned back. “Do you remember when you were telling Nina that I shouldn’t return to Chiran because, having killed Cark, it would be too dangerous for me there?”

  “Yes.”


  “Then you told me that you couldn’t do without me—” He stopped short.

  “I remember. What about it?”

  “Chaya, in truth, you scared me.”

  “What?”

  He let his breath out slowly, audibly. “In that moment I knew that you had to spread your own wings—find your own way. I wanted you to know—”

  She glared at him.

  “I wanted to know—and I needed for you to know—that if you were with me, it was because you chose to be, and not because you felt there was no other way for you. And I needed you to know that I was with you because that was my choice—not because I felt emotionally blackmailed into it.”

  She pulled back, scowling. “What are you talking about?”

  “Chaya, when I first brought you here, to Oosa, you didn’t know anyone except for me. But you needed to learn that you are strong and capable in your own right—that you can stand on your own two feet. I wanted you to know that you didn’t need me, or anyone else, to fill any of your needs—physical, spiritual, or otherwise.”

  He sighed. “Too many times, I’ve seen someone in your position make a life-changing decision only to discover his or her own strength later—and then have regrets. I don’t want you with me because you think you need for me to do something for you that you are actually quite capable of seeing to yourself, or because you feel indebted to me once you discover your own abilities. I want you with me because, strong in your own right, and capable of meeting all your own needs, you choose to be with me. Otherwise, we’d be destined to fail in the future.”

  “In other words,” she said, “you don’t want me until I’ve learned that I can live without you.”

  He chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it. In fact, it’s what my mother always told my younger sisters: ‘Don’t bind yourself to a man until you know you can live without him,’ she’d say.”

  She cocked her head. “So . . . you really thought I only wanted to be with you because I needed you?”

  He shrugged. “I feared as much.”

  Looking down, she said, “Well, I hate to admit it, but I think you might have been right. I mean—you were right that I needed to learn that I’m capable of handling things on my own.”

  He smiled.

  “Now,” she said, standing firm, “I know my own strength—and I’ve learned to rely on it.”

  “You’re not angry with me then?”

  She bit her lip. “No, I guess not.”

  “In that case, do you think—” He stopped short.

  “What?”

  “That you might want to have dinner with me tonight?”

  “Hmmmm . . . Well, I’m sorry, but . . . I’ve other plans.”

  “I see.” He looked at the ground.

  “Tomorrow might work though.” She grinned.

  Turing back up, gazing into her bluebird eyes—those eyes that made his heart beat faster—he smiled broadly. “Perfect.”

  A group of Oathtakers, on their way to the meeting, brushed past the two of them.

  Marshall shuffled his feet. “Well, I guess I have somewhere I have to get to.”

  “I understand.”

  “Tomorrow then?”

  Nodding, she said, “It’s a date.”

  With that, he rushed off.

  Given the size of the gathering, it was held out of doors, under a tarp. Among others, the entire Council, all the Oathtaker trainers, the twins, and Broden, attended. For ease of communication, they sat in three rows around a center oval table. Mara and the twins headed it, with the rest of the Council members making up the remainder of the first ring. Before them, Effie and Fleet, along with a number of additional flits, sat on the tabletop. Behind them came Dixon and some of Mara and the girls’ closest friends and confidants. Finally, in the back row sat the arms-trainers and the healers.

  Reigna glanced out after everyone was seated. “This meeting is called to order,” she said. “In the interests of time, Eden and I, with Mara’s input, have determined that we will hear a report from each Council member on the topic under his or her particular domain.”

  She looked down at the papers before her, rustled through a few of them, and then pulled one out. She put it on the top of the pile.

  “So. . . Mildred Crane,” she said as she reached for her quill, preparing to take notes, “as you are in charge of issues relating to health and healing, you’re up first.”

  When Mildred bobbed her head in acknowledgement, Mara noted how much grayer her hair was than when she’d first met her. Back then, the woman sported a single silver streak at her temple. Now, little of her former ebony tresses remained.

  “Actually, before I get started, I thought Lucy might like a moment to discuss the situation with Percival Ferreolo, as it currently stands.”

  Lucy cleared her throat then addressed the crowd. “I am delighted to report that Percival is with us today.” She looked up, caught his eye, and smiled. “Before I brought him back here for this meeting, I expressed my deepest regrets and extended to him, my sincerest apologies. I am happy to say that he has been gracious enough to accept them.” She looked his way again. “Thank you, Percival, and welcome back.”

  The group broke out into spontaneous applause.

  “Have you anything to add to that?” Mildred asked him.

  “Only that I believe Lucy did the right thing,” he said. “In truth, we can’t afford to overlook what seems obvious.”

  “Yes,” Lucy said, “but neither can we be lackadaisical. As we were reminded recently, prophecy provides that things are not always what they seem.”

  “Even so, the facts did suggest that I was the leak. I suspect . . . Well, I’ll let Lucy tell you all.”

  She nodded his way, then proceeded to fill in for any of the others who hadn’t learned the true facts as yet, the part that Petrus Feoras—Brother Pestifere—had played.

  “Keep in mind that he mentioned that there are others of these Oathtakers—or more accurately, Oathbreakers,” she finally said. Then she turned to the professor, Skylar Hadwin. “Can you think of any way we might identify those from amongst us who’ve turned to the dark side?” she asked him.

  “In truth, I cannot,” he said. “Their actions are like a black spot on the character of you all, but I’m sorry to say, I know of no way of identifying them.”

  “Do you think there are many of them?”

  “I do not,” he said. “An Oathtaker’s training, and the final exams one takes, weed out most of the potential problems, but . . . Well, we can hardly expect perfection in an imperfect world.”

  Lucy nodded, then held up her finger. “You know,” she said, “when I traveled with Petrus—Pestifere—I experienced something highly unusual.” She caught Mara’s eye, then Dixon’s. “When I travel, I see colors and light. Do you?”

  “Yes,” Dixon said.

  Mara nodded. “Yes, I do, too.”

  “Have you ever seen black streaks running through?”

  Mara’s eyes narrowed. “Never.”

  “No, I haven’t either,” Dixon agreed.

  “Well, perhaps it had to do with Petrus’s—Pestifere’s—true character. You might want to be on the watch for that in the future.” She turned back to the professor. “Anything more?”

  “Only that we’re still trying to decipher a prophecy that we reviewed earlier.”

  “Oh?” Mara asked.

  He cleared his throat, then recited:

  Shall the tree determine the circumstances of its seed? A miniature kernel, containing its own survival, in itself is neither good, nor evil. That from which it is derived determines not the kernel’s end. Consider, rather, the ground in which it sprouts, the purity of the water sprinkled upon it. Even when germinated in darkness, yet in clear light, it may thrive. Even when cast in the ashes, when transplanted to nourishing soil, it may live. Even that which emerges, surrounded by acidic waters, may find new life at the base of a fresh spring well.

  “That was
like my dream!” Mara cried.

  “What dream?” Lucy asked.

  “Remember? The one about the seed that was planted in chaos? Later, it was removed and received fresh water and clean air—and after it grew, it offered refuge to others.” Mara’s brow dropped. “You know, Lucy,” she continued, looking her way, “in truth, that was a good summary of Broden’s parentage, of his life, and of Rowena’s and your parts in it. And it was due to him that we all escaped from that prison.” She smiled. “We should have caught on to the parallels earlier.”

  “Agreed,” Lucy said.

  “Actually, it also reminds me of another dream I had. In that one, a thorny bramble somehow created a seed that started the takeover of a land of desolation.” She closed her eyes in thought. “As I think on it, it seems to have meant that Broden—the seed of Zarek—offered an opportunity for rescue.”

  “‘Lose not faith when deliverance is sought. The despot inevitably offers the seed of his own destruction,’” Professor Hadwin offered.

  Smiling, Reigna nodded at Mara, then turned back Mildred’s way. “Have you anything else then?”

  Patting her hair, the woman addressed the group. “The healers ranks are in good order, although in truth, they’ve been overextended for some time now. Percival and I will stay in steady contact and I’ll keep you all informed. But for the time being, that’s it.”

  “Very well then,” Reigna said. She turned to Eden. “Who’s next?”

  “Eben Taft.”

  “Right. Eben, as the chief scientist, have you a report?”

  “Just this,” he said, peeking through his unruly brows. “We’ve been experimenting with the crystals to come up with some more effective weaponry. The early results look promising.”

  “Can you give us any examples?”

  “Well,” he said, “we’ve discovered that when we use them collectively, some strange phenomena occur. For example, if we use together, one that starts fires and one that causes a gust of wind, we can create a blaze that proves highly difficult to extinguish.”