“Dixon, I’m not sure that’s the best way to get what we need,” Mara interrupted.
He turned to her, wrath on his face, determination in his bearing. “Open your eyes!” he exclaimed. “You’re in a war! This man was sent to kill Rowena and he would kill Reigna and Eden in a heartbeat. And make no mistake about it, he’ll kill you if given the opportunity.” He took in a deep breath. “Your job is to protect the girls—no matter what. With your life if you must.”
“I know that. I’m prepared to pay with my life if I must.” She glared at him.
“Yes, well,” he growled, “sometimes the best way to make sure you don’t have to pay with your life—to see to it that you can continue to protect your charge—is to make sure that those who seek to harm you, pay with theirs.” He turned back to his captive. “Who sent you?”
The man’s eyes bulged.
Dixon pulled him away from the rock, spun him around, and then held him from behind with a knife at his throat. “Start talking.”
He shook his head and held his lips tight.
“Tough guy, huh?”
The intruder stared straight ahead, silent.
Dixon placed the tip of his knife below the man’s left ear and growled, “I’ll kill you. Now, talk. What’s your name? Who sent you? And why?”
Mara had never before seen anyone as intent as was Dixon at this moment. She considered his words, and she felt foolish. Of course, he was right. There were real dangers to the twins. Dying in her service to them would be terrible, but failing to take the action necessary to keep them safe, would be worse. She was startled to realize that she could face the possibility of her own death more easily than that she might have to take the life of another in order to protect herself and the girls. She hadn’t previously considered that fact. It shocked and troubled her. What good would she be as an Oathtaker if she couldn’t take the action necessary to protect her charge?
“Dixon,” she said, her voice calm.
“I’ve got this.”
“I was just going to say that perhaps I could be of some help.”
He scowled as his prisoner, with beads of sweat dotting his forehead and his eyes pleading for help, looked her way. “I said to stay out of this.”
She persisted. “It’s just that I think I know how best to reach him, how to get the answers we need.”
“Mara—” Dixon’s voice was heavy with warning.
“You see,” she continued, “I think your threats are not as effective as they might be.”
“Mara,” he warned again, more insistently this time.
She wouldn’t be stopped. She read the fear in the man, and it was not the fear of death. In that instant, she was sure she knew how to get the answers they required and vowed she’d do whatever was necessary to protect the girls.
“Like I said, I mean to help. You see,” she said, not giving Dixon the opportunity to cut her off, “I know that there are things some men fear even more than death.” She went quiet for a moment, carefully watching the intruder’s eyes. “Some men fear pain more than death, for example.”
He smirked.
“And some fear maiming more than they fear pain, or death. More in fact, than anything else.”
His eyes opened wide.
Dixon, seeing the reaction, looked to Mara. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I’ve studied the healing arts and I’ve learned a great deal. I’ve learned about places that when injured, can cause extraordinary pain. More important, there are injuries that will not—cannot—wholly heal. Well, at least not without the power of Ehyeh. Like right here,” she said as she reached down and touched the back and side of her knee. “The right kind of cut—rrrright herrrre—will cripple a man for life.” She hung on her words for added emphasis, intentionally meeting the stranger’s eyes.
Dixon stared at her, then turned his attention back to his prisoner, whose eyes revealed his fear.
Sheathing Spira, Mara removed a knife from inside her boot. She stepped forward. The eyes of her would-be assailant followed her every move. “Something tells me that you’re one of those men.” She watched closely for his reaction. “Aren’t you?” She raised a brow. “You fear crippling more than anything.” She leaned forward. “Huh? More than death,” she finished in a whisper.
He struggled and then, as she took another step forward, shouted, “Heri! My name’s Heri!”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes. Yes!”
“Who sent you?” Dixon asked.
“Gadon. Gadon!” Heri cried through his crooked teeth.
“Who’s Gadon and who sent him?”
The man closed his eyes and took short, shallow breaths. “He—that is we—were with the palace guard.”
“The palace at Shimeron?”
“Yes!”
“Who sent Gadon?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know! Gadon recruited me to go with him. I don’t know who sent him.”
“Where is he now?”
“I left him and the others last night.”
Mara quickly calculated. Heri had caught up with them amazingly quickly. “Left them where?” she asked.
“I don’t know the name of the place.”
“Where was it?”
Heri struggled, but couldn’t escape Dixon’s hold.
“Where did you leave the others?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Mara stepped closer, moving her knife from one hand to the other and back again.
His eyes followed her. “At a small farm on the edge of the glen.”
“Drake and Maggie’s?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. It was just some old couple.”
“What happened to them? Are they all right?”
He went still. He seemed to have no fight left in him. “I don’t know. Gadon probably had them killed.”
“Is he coming this way?”
“Yes.”
“When do you expect him?” Dixon asked.
“Not before sunset tomorrow, at the earliest. He’s making a thorough search for signs and tracks.”
The Oathtakers exchanged a glance.
“What were your orders?” Dixon asked.
Heri shook his head.
“What were your orders?”
“There’s also a wonderful little spot right . . . here.” Mara pointed to the center of the back of her hand, speaking through gritted teeth, after confirming that she had Heri’s attention. “Hurts like nothing else to be stabbed in the back of the hand.” As he nervously licked his lips, she continued, “And of course, if done correctly—you know, if you twisssst the knife around good—the hand will never work quite the same again.” She shook her head. “A pity really.”
She held his gaze, a faint smile upon her lips. Anger consumed her. She felt no pity for the monster. He and his companions threatened the twins and had harmed those who’d helped her.
Tears welled in his eyes. “We were,” he said, his crooked teeth clenched, “we were sent to kill Rowena and her child. That’s all I know.”
“By whom?” she asked calmly.
“I swear, I don’t know.”
She looked at Dixon. “He speaks truth.” She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew.
Still holding his captive from behind, Dixon pulled his knife across Heri’s throat in one smooth move. As the life left the thug’s body, the Oathtaker pushed it aside. It landed with a thud in a thicket of brush. Without another word, or another look at Mara, he marched off.
“I thought maybe you’d have left the honors to me,” she said to his back.
Dixon strode back toward where Sherman and Cheryl grazed.
Mara could think of nothing to say. He’d done the right thing, she knew. She felt both cheated of the opportunity to execute the righteous judgment Heri had so deserved, and grateful Dixon had spared her that act. She followed him.
After some time, he slowed.
A grove of tr
ees surrounded them. A creek ran nearby. It was a good place to set up camp and to get some much-needed rest.
“Thank you, Dixon. I hadn’t heard him coming.”
“Hmmm.”
“You did the right thing.”
“I know.” He turned and walked away.
She dropped the subject.
While she unpacked their foodstuffs, he set a snare, tended their horses, and then gathered up fallen branches. When he’d accumulated a sizable pile, he reached out, and with a flick of his fingers, started their campfire. Once again his magic caught Mara off guard, just as when he’d lit the wayfarers’ hut on fire.
Dixon headed to the creek where he took a quick dunk to wash away the dirt and sweat of the day. Afterward he checked his snare. He’d made a catch. Quietly he skinned and gutted the hare, then skewered it on a small green branch from a nearby fruit tree. He set it over the shimmering center coals of the fire.
Meanwhile, Mara took the twins to the creek. With rags from her pack, she wiped them clean. Then after laying them down on the edge of the bank, she slipped off her dress and dipped in the pool. The water invigorated her. When refreshed and dressed again, she returned to the campsite.
The air was heavy, both with the Oathtakers’ silence, and with the aroma of roasting meat.
Dixon pulled the sizzling hare from the edge of the coals. He dropped the hot dinner into a bowl and tore the meat apart, blowing on his fingers to cool them from time to time.
Mara sat nearby on a blanket. The girls slept soundly at her side.
With the sun now down, only the fire lit their camp.
From the edge of the pond came the mesmerizing sounds of frogs and crickets. An occasional lightfly flitted by, its iridescent wings twinkling in the firelight.
“Are we making good time do you think?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.
“Hmmm.”
She shrugged and set her lips tightly. He annoyed her. They’d traveled for days and he’d said next to nothing to her. His manner was entirely different with the townspeople when they’d purchased their horses and other supplies. Chatting it up with the local innkeeper, Dixon had made fast friends, and even got a particularly good deal on their mounts. But while personable, even friendly, with others, with her he was continually brusque, habitually curt.
“Fairly good, considering how often we need to stop,” he finally deigned to respond. “We certainly can’t afford to stay here long.” He sat down, then handed her a portion of the roast hare.
The smell made Mara’s stomach growl. She ate quickly, finishing up as Reigna awakened.
“Funny baby,” she cooed. “It seems you know just when it’s time to eat, huh?” She kissed her forehead. “Such a funny baby. Such a squishy forehead,” she whispered and laughed.
“What did you say?” Dixon asked, scowling.
She looked at him, still smiling. “Have you ever noticed that a baby’s softest part is its forehead? I feel my lips could sink right in.” She took a couple of the infant’s fingers into her mouth and sucked on them gently. She’d fallen completely under the girls’ spell.
His brow furrowed. He shook his head as though attempting to rid himself of a nuisance. He stirred the fire, then added some larger branches to it. The waltzing flames reflected in his eyes. “Glad you can take this all so seriously,” he murmured.
Mara laid Reigna down. “You know,” she said, “I have had about enough. You are so rude. Frankly, your derision is more than I can bear. Come morning, why don’t you just make your own way? I appreciate your help with that Heri character and all, but from here on, I’d prefer to go it alone. The girls and I’ll make it to Polesk just fine on our own. I don’t want you around anymore.”
She stood, threw her dinner scraps into the fire, and then walked away.
He jumped to his feet. “What? What? I don’t understand! What’s your problem?”
“My problem? What’s my problem?” She turned back to face him. “I’ve no problem, Dixon, you do.” She pointed at him. “You’re surly and belligerent at every turn. It’s not my fault you weren’t where you needed to be when you needed to be there to protect the love of your life.” She turned away. “So . . . go. And take your blame with you!”
Tears burned her eyes, but she wasn’t about to let him see her weakness. She didn’t want him to think she was frightened to go on without him, or was concerned about how she’d protect the girls. She was just angry. She didn’t need him.
She returned to the infants to change Reigna’s wet things. Fearing her anger would make her touch too firm, she took in a couple deep breaths to calm down before continuing.
Dixon watched on, his mouth half open.
As she stole an occasional glance his way, she thought he must be accustomed to having his own way about everything. He expected others to concede at every turn to his authority. He probably thought she needed him. Well, she thought not.
The nighttime sounds became steadily louder. The hoot of an owl added a tenor to the bass of the bullfrogs and the soprano of the crickets singing through the night air. Far away, a dog barked, adding an offbeat percussion instrument to the mix.
When through with Reigna’s change, Mara tended to Eden. Then she pulled a blanket from her sack and wrapped it over her shoulders. She picked up the twins and headed to a large oak a few feet away, sat down, and leaned against it.
Several minutes passed as she fought to contain her anger. She closed her eyes. “I take it we’ll need to put the fire out shortly to avoid attracting any further attention. I’ll take second watch—if you don’t mind. It’s likely the girls will have me up by then anyway.” She situated one portion of the blanket to act as a pillow, then rested her head.
“You’re right,” he finally said, softly. His shoulders slumped.
She opened her eyes, filled with stinging tears again. She wiped them with the back of her hand. Her frustration renewed, she simply stared at him.
He looked down and shuffled his feet, then glanced off into the distance. “You’re right. I’ve blamed you and I’ve resented that you were there when I couldn’t be. I . . . had no choice. A—about being elsewhere, I mean.”
“Right. And neither did I—have any choice—about doing what had to be done,” she said quietly, but firmly. “We both did what we had to do. Now rather than explain myself further, I’m through with you.” She turned away again and closed her eyes. End of discussion.
Dixon stepped nearer. He squatted down and reached toward her, then pulled his hand back. He waited a few moments. “I’m . . . sorry. I shouldn’t have blamed you. I had no right to, and no reason to. You’re right—about most things anyway. I’m at fault. I failed Rowena.” He took in a deep breath. “But I swear, if you don’t send me away, I’ll not fail Reigna and Eden.”
Mara turned back.
His eyes rose to meet hers. “And I won’t fail you. I promise. Please,” he whispered, repeating his plea. “Please, I want to help. I need to help.”
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She was tired. It was so frustrating trying to keep peace with this difficult man. Every moment with him was demanding, exhausting.
She looked toward the fire, now reduced to shimmering coals. “I don’t know, Dixon. I admit I could use some help, but I’m not going to deal with your moodiness and blame.”
“Please. Please, I swear I would—” He swallowed hard. “I would do anything for those girls. Anything! I would . . . I would lay my life down for them.”
At that very moment, the ground shook.
Dixon teetered.
Mara felt the same sense of power and fullness as when she’d received the confirmation of her oath. Stunned, mouth agape, she gasped and then looked up.
Dixon appeared equally shocked. “I thought you said you—”
“I did!” she interrupted.
“But then, how could—”
“This be? I don’t know. But I swore an oath for the girls’ protection and
I received a confirmation. Just now, when you swore to protect them, I had the same feeling as when I gave my oath.”
“Can you describe it?”
“Well,” she said, her hand to her throat, “it feels like I’m full of emotions—of all kinds. Happiness, sadness, fear, longing, desire . . . I want to sit silently, jump in joy, sing praises. I . . .”
“Yes?” he prompted.
She exhaled audibly, struggling to find the right words to convey her feelings. Tears welled in her eyes. “I feel I’ve been filled in places I didn’t know were empty. It’s like music just broke open within me.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And you? What are you feeling now? How can this be if I’ve already been called as Oathtaker to the girls? If I’ve already sworn an oath for their protection?”
He frowned. “I know what the confirmation feels like, Mara. I’ve experienced it. You’ve described it beautifully . . . and accurately. Just now, I felt the earth shake, but I didn’t get those same sensations.”
“But what does this mean?”
“I don’t know. If I had to guess, I’d say the Good One acknowledged my promise, but not as the girls’ assigned Oathtaker. From what you just said, from the description you gave, there’s no question. You are their Oathtaker.”
She got to her feet and went back to the campfire, Dixon following. She sat down, cradling the babies. “Well there certainly are a lot of questions to be answered. Even so, I can’t go on like this. I feel I’m always walking on eggshells around you and . . . I refuse to do it any longer.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “If you really want to help, if you really think you can do this, then something has got to change.”
He nodded.
“Perhaps if you told your story, you could put your demons at bay. Then maybe, just maybe, we can call a truce. I am not your enemy.”
He moved as though to speak, then hesitated. “Fair enough,” he finally said. He was quiet for a minute. “Goodness, where do I begin?” he asked with a sheepish grin.
“How about at the beginning? I usually find that to be a good place.”
He sat down near the fire, then reclined on his side, just feet away from her. “Well,” he said as he sat up again, “I’ll try to keep this short so as not to bore you.” He chuckled softly.
Oathtaker Page 7