When Dixon reached the infirmary, Basha jumped before him to open the door.
He stepped inside.
“Dixon. Dixon!” someone called.
“Oh Dixon, what happened?” another cried.
He looked up. Tears welled in his eyes, as Reigna and Eden rushed toward him. The girls, actually young women now, could always soften his brashness.
His eyes darted from one of the beauties to the other. Whenever he looked at one of them, he felt he saw their mother once again, though whereas Rowena had sported brilliant green eyes, the twins’ eyes were light brown, and whereas Rowena’s hair had been auburn, the girls had lighter tresses that glistened with copper highlights. Aside from those differences, the two had grown into Rowena’s spitting image, with her high cheekbones, and with the same flawless skin—skin that gave them an almost unearthly quality. But while so identical in sight as to be difficult to differentiate from one another, their likenesses ended there. They differed profoundly in personality. Reigna was loud, Eden, quiet; Reigna, a speaker, Eden, a listener; Reigna, a doer, Eden, a thinker; Reigna, an instigator, Eden, a responder. They balanced one another perfectly, and each idolized the other.
Gently, Dixon laid Mara on a nearby cot. “She’ll be all right. She’ll be all right,” he said.
The door opened to more visitors. In walked Nina and Jules, each of whom wore a grim expression.
“Did you find her?” Nina asked, tears in her eyes.
Basha neared her. “No, I’m sorry, we found no sign of Carlie.”
“What could have happened, do you think?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll keep looking. She’s been trained to survive in the wilderness, don’t forget.”
Nina held Jules’s hand. Together, they approached Dixon.
“We’re so sorry about Mara,” Nina said to him. A petite woman, with raven hair and coffee colored skin, she wiped the tears from her deep, dark eyes. Having escaped her homeland, Chiran, as a young woman, losing her child along the way, she’d met Mara and Dixon when the twins were just days old. She agreed to join them to help mother the twins, and had been with them since.
Jules stood at her side. He and his cousin, Samuel, had also joined Mara and Dixon years ago. To Mara’s delight, he and Nina fell in love, and married. Their three children brought great joy to everyone at the compound, along with some recent sadness, as their eldest, Carlie, had been missing now for days.
Dixon turned their way. “Yes, well, like Basha said, we didn’t find Carlie.”
“Yes, we know.” Nina swallowed hard. “Will Mara be all right, do you think? Is there anything we can do?”
“What happened?” Reigna asked, as she and her sister sidled up to Dixon.
His eyes flickered toward the young women for an instant and then, just as quickly, he averted his gaze.
Basha stepped up. She put an arm around each of the twins. “She’ll be fine. Now, why don’t you two leave us to see to her needs?”
“We want to help,” Eden said.
“There’s really nothing you can do.”
“Can’t someone heal her?”
“Of course. We just didn’t want her to try to do too much, too soon. So we brought her back here right away.” Basha squeezed them closer for a moment. “Really, she’s going to be fine. Kayson already healed her shoulder. So, you two go on then, and I’ll let you know when we’re through here.”
Reigna pulled away. “Goodness, we’re not children, you know.”
The remark startling her, Basha blinked repeatedly. “Of course not. I know that. We just need some space, that’s all. You’d be of most help if you left us to this.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Letting her breath out slowly, Basha glanced at her, then at her sister.
“Neither am I,” Eden said.
All eyes turned her way. It was so unlike Eden not to act as the peacemaker.
“All right, then,” Basha said, “but you’ll have to stay out of the way and allow Kayson some quiet so that he can concentrate.”
Reigna pulled out two chairs. She pointed to one, directing with a nod at Eden that it was meant for her. Then she sat in the other.
Dixon watched them. He couldn’t recall that they’d ever before asserted their will over that of their elders. But just now, they refused to be ignored. He knew that when a young person came of age, she often had to demand her place amongst the adults in just such a manner. He also knew that her doing so, even just once, was usually sufficient. Too often the young person who lacked the wherewithal to do so, never fully grew up. In that moment, he knew that he and Mara had done a fine job raising the twins, of preparing them for independence. Perhaps they’d soon be ready to take their rightful places and to lead the Select. The thought both satisfied and alarmed him.
“Isn’t there something we can do to help?” Reigna asked.
Basha smiled weakly. “Not just now. But your being here is sure to help Mara when she comes to.”
She brought another chair to the bedside and then motioned to Kayson that it was for him. Once done, she turned to the rest of the company. “You all should go now,” she said.
“I’m staying,” Dixon said.
“Of course you are, Dixon. As to the rest of you though . . .” She gestured toward the door.
Slowly, Lucy, Therese, Nina, and Jules, made their way toward it.
“Keep us posted,” Lucy said, stepping out.
After they left, Basha got chairs for herself and Dixon. As she sat down, she turned to Kayson. It was time to begin.
He moved Mara’s hair to inspect the wound on her head. Then he placed his hands to each side of her face, concentrating, calling forth his magic.
Dixon paced back and forth, back and forth.
“Dixon, sit down,” Basha ordered without looking his way.
He sat. Within moments, he started tapping a beat with his hand to his thigh. It was a mannerism he often acted out when concerned or in deep thought.
“Dixon,” Basha said, glancing his way.
“What?” He sprang to his feet.
“Stop it,” she ordered, looking at his hand when he resumed patting to an unheard beat.
He held her gaze, exhaling slowly, audibly. He sat back down, folded his hands, and then dropped them between his knees. He leaned forward and looked down. With his toes to the floor and heels raised, he bounced one leg up and down.
The twins watched him for a moment. Then Eden took his hand. She smiled softly when their eyes met. With her other hand, she reached for her sister. The three exchanged glances and then collectively, turned back to Kayson.
With Dixon momentarily quieted, Basha nodded at the healer, signaling for him to continue.
After shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Kayson peered inside to get a firm idea of the extent of Mara’s injuries. Then he sent a stream of magic into his patient. With both his physical eyes, and his eyes of magic, he watched as the gash to her head healed. Within minutes, only a thin pink line remained of the wound.
He increased his magic stream as he surveyed her other injuries. The fall had jarred her shoulder. He concentrated on putting it in place and then added a cushion of comfort around it while removing some excess inflammation.
Continuing on, he followed his attendant power to her head. He poured out more magic.
The minutes seemed to drag on in the silent room.
Finally, when his energy waned, Kayson glanced up at Basha and nodded.
She turned to Dixon and the twins. “Now, we wait,” she said.
Chapter Two
Rain fell from the wee morning hours on. At times it merely sprinkled, but intermittently, it came in great gusts, beating down hard upon the earth before running off in rivulets.
A leak in the infirmary’s roof became obvious as an intruding drop or two eventually turned into a spot on the wood floor, and later, into a puddle. Basha placed a large earthenware pot down to catch the leakage.
&nb
sp; Drip . . . drop. Drip . . . drop. Drip . . . drop. The sound the water made as it landed in the urn seemed to mimic a heartbeat.
Dixon sat at Mara’s bedside, holding her hand. He rubbed his forehead with his other hand.
“Dixon,” Basha interrupted his thoughts.
He didn’t look up.
“Dixon,” she said, now louder, “you’ve got to eat. You need to keep up your strength. Mara will need it when she regains consciousness.”
Still, he said nothing.
“Dixon,” she repeated. She put her hand on his shoulder.
He looked up, his eyes misted over.
She tilted her head to the side and looked deeply into his eyes. “She’s going to be fine. The sleep is good for her. She’s healing.”
He patted his thigh. He wanted to shout, but there was no one to shout at. He wanted to hit someone, but there was no one to blame. No one that was, but himself. He looked at the floor.
Basha sat at his side. She leaned in until her shoulder pressed against his. “Dixon, look at me,” she said, nudging him, then leaning away.
Shaking his head, he sighed. “It’s all my fault. I should never have let her go out. I should’ve kept her from . . .”
Basha was silent for a moment. Then she put her hand under his chin. Turning his head, forcing him to face her, she smiled wanly.
“Goodness, Dixon, sometimes I think the rest of us know her better than you do.”
His brow furrowed.
“You know very well that she wouldn’t have stayed behind.”
He looked away.
“Dixon, Mara is her own woman. She would have insisted on going along. Nothing you could have done would have changed that. With Carlie missing, and the intrusions into the compound, there are just too many unanswered questions. With all that’s been going on, neither you, nor anyone or anything else, could have stopped her.” She hesitated, then added, “And you know it.”
He sighed. “How are Reigna and Eden?”
“They’re suffering.”
He flinched, as though she’d slapped him.
“Dixon, they can’t bear to see you like this. That’s why I sent them away. They want to keep helping with Mara, but seeing you like this is just too much for them.”
“It’s all my fault.”
“You know better than that. You know better than to take on blame for the evildoing of others.”
He stood, then paced. “Why doesn’t she come to?”
Basha shrugged. “Why does the sun rise each day? Why do the moons light the night sky? Why—”
“She’s been out for three full days!”
“And you haven’t eaten in all that time—nor slept.”
He waved his hand, as though dismissing the issue.
“Dixon, you need to get out for a few minutes. Get some fresh air. Let the rain beat down upon your head. You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep this up. Then where will Reigna and Eden be? They’re depending on you.” She paused, sighing. “I’ll stay here. I’ll keep dropping water into her mouth to keep her hydrated.”
He winced. On one level he knew she was right, but he couldn’t bear to leave Mara’s side.
“Please . . . go. Step out that door,” Basha said, pointing. “I won’t move from her side. I promise.”
He looked at the ceiling, almost prayerfully. Then without another word, he went to the door and stepped out.
The rain fell in a torrent.
He took a few steps, then spread his arms out, lifted his face, and let the rain pour over himself.
Dear Ehyeh, bring her back to me!
He dropped his arms. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew Basha was right. He would need all his energy to seek out those who’d harmed his beloved . . . and then, he would kill them.
He looked across the compound. Though only midday, due to the dense cloud cover, lamps burned in the buildings. One shone out from a window of the twins’ room, another from the main compound kitchens where smoke rose from the chimney. The smell of braising meat hovered in the air.
He ran down the center pathway, then took a left and headed toward the first of the compound’s outer circles. He ran, on and on, faster and faster. His body heated. His legs grew weary. His heart beat as though it would burst in his chest.
When he could run no more, he stopped, bent forward, and put his hands on his thighs, gasping for air. Standing just outside sanctuary, with the rain still pouring, his breathing gradually steadied.
He opened the door and stepped inside. He sought solace, communion with Ehyeh. He glanced toward the altar. As usual, the oldtimers, Leala and Fidel, were there.
Prior to meeting Mara and Dixon, both the old ones had spent decades at sanctuary in the City of Light where they’d studied and prayed. Whereas Leala’s expertise was history, Fidel’s was prophecy. The Good One had renamed them both for their loyalty and fidelity to His interests. When Mara brought the infant twins to sanctuary in the City of Light to dedicate them, Leala and Fidel found her there. They were the first to recognize the girls as the fulfillment of prophecy.
Dixon noticed once again the changes in Leala since those many years ago. Back then, age had already weakened her body. She’d hunched from it. Her veins stood out like markings of blue delineating riverways on a map. Her arthritic fingers curled and bent. But since living at the compound, she’d slowly shed the more drastic testimonies to her age. Indeed, her old gray eyes were clearer now, after the passage of nearly two decades, than they’d been when he’d first met her.
Smiling weakly, she exuded a sense of deep peace. “Dixon,” she whispered, by way of greeting.
He acknowledged her with a nod.
“Dixon,” Fidel repeated. Carrying himself nobly, as a man of means, his bald head reflected the light from the nearby lamp, while his kind black eyes sparkled, and his cheeks glowed pink. As was his habit, he was dressed impeccably in grey wool pants and a cloak, a white cotton tunic, and shiny knee-length black leather boots.
“How is she?” the old woman asked as she made her way to Dixon’s side.
He tipped his head right to left.
She nodded. “The girls have been here in prayer most of the past couple days—whenever they weren’t helping with Mara, that is.”
“They told me.”
“Do you want us to leave you?” Fidel asked.
“No, thank you, it’s not necessary.”
Dixon stepped to the altar at the front of the room. He put his hands on it and leaned forward.
The oldtimers shared a look just as the door to sanctuary opened.
“Dixon. Dixon! Basha says she might be coming to!”
He turned to the voice. Therese stood before him, graceful, beautiful. Still appearing to be in her middle years, as she was amongst the Select who’d sworn a life oath to protect the twins, her hair shone. Only a light scar that ran across her forehead marred her otherwise creamy, radiant skin.
Without a word, he brushed past her and rushed out. Then he raced down the center path, toward the infirmary. Upon arrival, he reached for the door handle, paused, and then pulled it open and stepped inside.
Basha sat at Mara’s bedside, dripping water into her patient’s mouth. She looked up and winced when the door slammed shut.
“Therese says she’s coming to,” he said as he rushed to her side, dripping water along the way.
“She hasn’t regained consciousness yet, but there are signs she may soon. She’s fidgeting a bit.”
He took Mara’s hand. “Mara. Mara, can you hear me? Wake up now.” For a moment he recalled a day many years back when he’d awakened his beloved from a magic hangover. She never seemed to know when enough was enough.
Her eyes fluttered, but didn’t open.
“Therese said she’d send the girls in,” Basha said.
“Mara. Mara?” he repeated.
She lay motionless.
He squeezed his eyes closed. “Please, dear Good One, please bring her back t
o me,” he whispered as he stroked her hand.
The sound of the door opening and closing interrupted his prayer.
Reigna and Eden stepped inside, their hair wet from dashing through the rain. They rushed toward him, as one.
“Therese said she’s awakening,” Reigna said.
“Is she all right?” Eden asked, clutching Dixon’s arm.
He shook his head. “She’s not awake yet,” he said. Then he turned his attention back to her. “Mara. Mara, wake up,” he urged.
Her eyes fluttered. For a moment, they opened.
“Mara,” Reigna called, a cry in her voice, “wake up!”
Once again, the Oathtaker’s eyes opened. She blinked once, then closed them again.
“Mara!” Eden exclaimed. “Open your eyes . . . please.”
A moment passed. Then Mara opened her eyes, yet again. Fogged over, they traveled from Dixon, to Reigna, and then to Eden. Apparently trying to focus, she blinked repeatedly.
Dixon readjusted the cold cloth on her forehead. “How are you feeling?”
Her gaze turned back his way. Her brow furrowed slightly.
“Oh, Dixon, she’s really awakening!” Reigna patted his shoulder.
Mara’s eyes drifted toward her. She blinked once, twice . . .
Eden stroked her arm. “It’s time to wake up now.”
Mara nodded, almost imperceptibly.
“Are you in any pain?” Dixon asked.
She didn’t respond.
“Just blink your eyes twice if you’re in pain.”
She looked full into his eyes, but didn’t blink.
“No pain? That’s good.” He smiled, relieved, as he brushed his hand against her cheek.
Her eyes followed the gesture. Then, ever so slowly, she moved her head to the side.
“Are you hungry? Can we get you something to eat?” Reigna asked.
Her eyes fluttered. “Sleep,” she whispered.
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