Ephemeral and Fleeting

by Patricia Reding

  The screams of horses filled the air.

  “This way!” someone cried.

  When Lucy arrived at the center of a newly formed crowd, she found Trumble with his arms around a child, trying to keep him from getting loose. The boy struggled, kicked his legs with wild abandon, and then tried to bite his captor.

  Basha stood nearby. “He’s not going to hurt you!” she cried, her comments clearly directed at the child.

  “What is it?” Lucy asked as she approached.

  Trumble, having managed to get the child under control, glanced her way. “Can you believe this? He’s just a kid!”

  Several more Oathtakers drew near.

  “What’s happened?” Lucy asked.

  Trumble asked one of the newcomers to take the lad and to keep him restrained. Then he motioned toward the line of horses.

  “What’s happened?” Lucy repeated her question.

  “I’ll show you.”

  He headed off, down the line of squealing mounts, all prancing in place and pulling at the ropes that tied them down, their eyes wild. Soon, he pointed down at three horses on the ground. A pool of blood surrounded them. The beasts tried to rise, screaming and snorting in their efforts.

  “Take them down,” Trumble ordered the Oathtaker standing nearest him. Then he watched as the man quickly and definitively slit the equine’s throats, bringing each, at last, to rest.

  “The . . . boy . . . hamstrung them,” he said as the third of the three beasts exhaled for its final time. I—” He dropped his head in his hands.

  “You what?” Basha asked.

  “Felicity awakened me, crying.” Trumble got down on his haunches and patted the thigh of one of the now-dead mounts. Then, looking up at her, he asked, “You know how she spent days crying for someone she called ‘Ella?’”

  “Ella?” Lucy asked.

  “Yes,” Basha said.

  “Who’s that?”

  “We’ve no idea who she was talking about.”

  “I see. What happened then, Trumble?” Lucy asked.

  “Well, finally, I thought I’d managed to get her to concentrate on something else and . . . Basha, she’s been riding your mare, Nightingale, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Felicity told me I had to save Nightingale so that she wouldn’t ‘rain red.’”

  Basha pulled back. “What? ‘Rain red?’”

  “I don’t know how I put it together so quickly, but I guess my years with Felicity have given me some insight into how her mind works. I concluded Nightingale must be in danger, so I ran out here.”

  “And?”

  “And I was so concerned with the horses’ safety that I almost missed the fact that the perpetrator was just a boy. I saw him down here and came running this way. Right off, I found the first two mounts here, already on the ground. The third fell seconds later.” He squared his shoulders. “I nearly used my blade on the boy as he ran. Thank goodness I realized he was just a child before I—”

  “Threw Amora at him,” Lucy said.

  He nodded.

  “How old do you suppose he is?” Basha asked.

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Ten? Twelve? Maybe?”

  “You did the right thing,” Lucy assured him, “but clearly, this cannot go on.”

  Basha stroked his arm. “I hate to admit it, but she’s right.”

  He looked up at the next horse in line—the one that would have been the child’s next target had he not intervened in time. It was Nightingale.

  “I have to let Felicity know that she’s all right,” he said, patting the mare’s rump. With that, he walked off.

  Basha stepped to Lucy’s side. “We need more troops here.”

  “Yes. I’ll return to the city tomorrow and send more reinforcements this way before I journey into Chiran. But even more, we need to figure out what to do with all the little ones already here. I can see that this is one problem that it will take time to resolve.”

  He leaned in closer, gazing into the looking glass at the hollowed-out skull of his lord and master. He gloried in the heat emanating from the spirit. It burned into him, causing a pain that left him feeling euphoric. He longed to return to Chiran, where he belonged. He hated being away.

  “It is soon time,” he said.

  “Zarek will be ready.” The underlord released a burst of heat.

  The man shuddered from the impact of it. Then, “There will be no room for mistakes,” he said.

  “Have no fear. Now, what hasss she ssssaid?”

  “She has been away, so I have learned little of late. But I know how her mind works. If she gets her hands—”

  “Not to fear. She will not get near the twinssss.”

  “What is Zarek’s plan?”

  “She will be taken into immediate cusssstody.” Pleased with himself, the underlord laughed. “Resssst assured, she will have no opportunity to causssse harm.”

  “They have made it all so easy.” The man shook his head, disdainfully.

  “They are arrogant. They are weak and undissssciplined. They say they are willing to die for their causssse, yet they take every measure to spare anyone from doing just that. By contrasssst, Zarek seeks to do my will, and he is willing to shed life for the furtherance of it.”

  “They value life too much,” the man commented.

  The underlord laughed. “Yessss, to their detriment. Asssss a consequencccce, we have already experienced great successessss at the border. I long to share all with you.”

  The man leaned back, directing his attention toward the sound of footfalls in the hallway. As they died away, he turned back.

  “Soon,” he said.

  When Lucy arrived back in the city, she was so tired that she managed only to order a thousand troops to head to the border to assist Marshall and Basha, post-haste. Then she told Petrus they’d not head for Chiran until she was sufficiently rested. She had to keep her wits about her. Finally, a couple days later, she was prepared to go.

  She stopped on her way to her final meeting with the other leaders before leaving, to see Percival. Stepping inside the scantily furnished room in which the authorities held him, she noted its single bed, bookcase, and dresser and mirror, before which Percival sat. On its top sat a bowl and pitcher of water for cleaning up.

  Percival rose, then stepped toward a nearby table.

  “Lucy,” he greeted her, his voice clipped.

  “I understand that you’ve yet to admit to any wrongdoing,” she said.

  “It wasn’t me.” A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow.

  “So you say.” She stepped nearer. “Yet your breaking into a sweat upon the mere sight of me is not a good sign, Percival. Are you nervous for some reason?”

  “Huh. No. It’s just . . . warm in here. Spring has finally arrived, but the guards won’t unlock my windows to allow any fresh air inside.”

  “They can’t allow for your possible escape.” She approached the mirror and glanced at her reflection. “You will remain here until further notice,” she said.

  He sighed. “I need to get back to work.”

  She turned back to face him. “I don’t have time to argue with you. I just thought you deserved an update.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “When I return, I’ll look into these matters further.”

  “Yes, I understand you’re leaving again. I overheard one of the guards mentioning that you’re headed for Chiran—with Petrus. But . . . that can’t be. Right?”

  Smirking, she shook her head. “I don’t know how you’re getting information to Zarek and his troops, so I’d be a fool to concede anything to you,” she said.

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “Like I said, I’ll look into this further upon my return.”

  “Fine, Lucy.”

  “Good. Until later, then.” With that, she retreated.

  Minutes later, upon arriving at the conference center, she headed down the hall.
On her way, Joed, the man who’d spoken out on Percival’s behalf earlier, drew to her side. Meeting her gait, stride for stride, their heels clicked on the hardwood floor, in unison.

  “Are you going to release Percival now?” he asked.

  She stopped short. “No, Joed, I am not.”

  He remained fixed to her side. “He is innocent. I’m convinced of it.”

  “If that’s the case, then the truth will win out in due course.”

  Shaking his head, he sighed.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” With that, she opened the door to the meeting room and then stepped inside.

  Jerrett and Velia, along with several leaders of the Oathtaker troops, stood to greet her.

  She looked about. “Where is Petrus?”

  “He hasn’t arrived as yet,” Jerrett said.

  “I told him to be ready to go.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” He pulled a chair out for her. “Are you sure we can’t convince you not to go?”

  She waved her hand at the chair. “I’m sure. I’ve no more time to waste here.”

  Velia patted her arm. “Have you been in contact with Mara?”

  “Briefly. She sounded terrible, but was unwilling to share any details with me. In any case, Professor Hadwin agrees that I should at least get a look at what’s going on there. My plan is to do just that. Of course, I’m hoping I’ll be fortunate enough to get my hands on the twins. If that’s possible, perhaps I can return here with them—or at least with one of them.”

  “I suppose it’s worth a try.”

  Just then the door opened, and Petrus stepped inside.

  “Oh good, you’re here,” Lucy said. “Are you ready to go?”

  “I got your message earlier.” He pulled on the bag hanging over his shoulder. “Why did I need to pack this? I thought you said you would deliver us directly to the prison.”

  “Yes—but sometimes traveling doesn’t work the way one intends.” She paused. “At least now that spring has arrived, we can manage all right if we do have to spend some time in the wilderness.”

  “Well, in any case, I am ready.”

  “Good.” Lucy turned to address the other attendees. “As you know, I made arrangements for secreting away, information about the whereabouts of Rowena’s other daughters in the event anything should happen to me. Have you any questions?”

  “None,” Velia said. “But Lucy, you should know that Jerrett and I won’t be here in the city when you return.”

  “Oh?”

  “We’ve decided we’ll assist Marshall and Basha at the border.”

  “I see.” She shrugged. “Well, if you think that’s the right plan of action.”

  “We do,” Jerrett said.

  “Very well then.” She stepped toward Petrus. “We’ll grab a quick dinner and then, as I mentioned earlier, we’ll leave shortly after dusk.”

  “Mara is unaware we are coming?” Petrus asked.

  “That’s right. Like you said, if she knew, she might act differently. I wouldn’t want her inadvertently tipping off the guards that something is in the offing.”

  “Agreed.”

  “You were right, Petrus, to counsel me accordingly. Besides, she’d probably just try to talk me out of going.”

  She grabbed her pack. “So, are you ready then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, you won’t feel anything,” she said, taking his hands, “except perchance a slightly heady feeling. You’ll probably see what looks like lights and colors, and then—hopefully—we’ll land inside the prison. Mara says the guards leave at dusk, which settled a short while ago, so all should be quiet there when we arrive.” She paused. “Listen, Petrus, as you know, if I get a chance to take one or both of the twins out of there, I intend to do just that. In that case, I’ll do what I can to return for you later.”

  He nodded. “I agree with your plan—and rest assured, I understand the risks.”

  “Here we go, then.”

  With that, Lucy spun her magic. Surrounded by lights and colors, she noticed something different from any time she’d traveled before, namely, black streaks intermingled with the clear and vibrant colors she usually saw. She puzzled over the difference, determining that perhaps her magic sensed the danger of the place to which she headed and sought to warn her. Still, she remained focused on her destination.

  Moments later, as her feet landed, she opened her eyes.

  And that’s when she felt it.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Overcome with frustration, Broden growled under his breath. He’d tried everything to gain an opportunity to be left alone with his friends, but over the past few days, even more of the succedunt soldiers attended him at the prison, than previously. They took up positions along the walls, one man standing a mere shoulder’s distance away from the next. There they remained, hour after agonizing hour.

  Not for the first time, he wondered why Zarek even bothered to have him there. Perhaps it was just to show him the futility of refusing to swear to serve Daeva. In any case, the only thing he and Carlie managed, was to provide the prisoners with their food. And unfortunately, because of the added guards, they’d not been particularly successful in bringing additional—and actually edible—rations to any of them. Still, Broden hoped that soon, he’d have the chance to speak privately with the twins, Mara, or one of the other Oathtakers.

  He glanced up at the scant light coming in from the barred window in Mara’s cell. Dusk was descending; it was time to leave for the day.

  He grabbed the buckets of leftover gruel and water sitting nearby, then carried them out to the hallway leading away from the prison. From there, someone would take them to be refilled for the next day.

  Marching back to where Carlie stood, just outside the twins’ cell, he said, “It’s time to go, Mouse.”

  He turned back around, nodded to the guards at his sides, and then stepped away. Seconds later, he realized something was amiss, as he’d expected Carlie’s footsteps from behind, but didn’t hear them.

  Turning back, he found the guards barring her way.

  Her fear-filled eyes flashed up at him.

  “It’s time to go,” he repeated, taking a step back toward them all.

  Two more men approached, flanking Broden. Each grabbed one of his elbows.

  “Let’s go,” one of them ordered.

  He flung his arms out to release their hold. Then, “Come on, Mouse,” he said, reaching for her.

  She tried to step around the guards, but they refused her passage.

  Broden watched as another guard lit torches dipped in pitch that lined the walls. He was confused. They’d never done that before.

  The flames flickered and popped as the acrid smell of their burning filled the air.

  “Let her go,” he demanded, pointing at Carlie.

  “Not this time,” the lead guard responded.

  Broden’s eyes narrowed. “Is there something I should know?”

  “No.”

  Carlie held his gaze, her eyes wide.

  “Let her go,” he tried again.

  “Not now. We need her assistance.”

  “For what?”

  “Never mind. We’ll return her to you—safe and sound.” He grinned at his cohorts. “In short order,” he added.

  “Go, Broden,” she said.

  He looked the men over carefully as he addressed them. “Very well then, but don’t forget that she belongs to me. Zarek has ordered that no one else is to touch her.”

  He marched up to the leader. When he was close enough to smell the man’s breath, he said, “You’d best return her unharmed.” With that, he turned on his heels and headed out.

  A few quiet minutes passed.

  Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Lucy and Petrus landed in the midst of the hallway, between the cells, at a spot visible only to the twins and Mara. They watched on as, in a flash, several of the succedunt soldiers descended on them.

  One struck L
ucy over the head, even as Mara screamed for her to “Watch out!”

  An almost inaudible whimper escaped Lucy’s lips as she dropped to the floor.

  Carlie struggled for a better view, but guards stood before her, not allowing her to see past them.

  At Lucy’s side, Petrus fell to his knees. “Leave her alone!” he cried. “Please! Don’t hurt her!”

  One of the guards grabbed his arm. “You’re coming with us,” he ordered, pulling him to his feet.

  “Let me go!” He struggled to free himself.

  “Now!” The man pulled at him, then dragged him away.

  No sooner did they depart, than two other men neared Lucy.

  “Check on her,” one of them ordered Carlie.

  Shaking, she crouched down at her side and then felt for her pulse. “She lives.”

  “Open that one!” he ordered one of his comrades, gesturing toward a cell situated across the hall from the twins and Mara.

  The man did as bidden.

  “Get her in there,” he said to Carlie.

  She dragged Lucy inside. Once done, she left her on the bed of filthy straw on the floor. “Now what?”

  “Remove her blade and hand it to me. Hurry!”

  Carlie removed Lucy’s blade. She glanced at it, apparently considering whether she should use it. But of course, that would be folly. It’s magic wouldn’t work for her—and even if it could, she’d never be able to take down all the guards.

  “Now!”

  She handed it over.

  “Now remove all the items from around her belt.”

  She followed his order.

  “Careful. Bring them to me.”

  When she reached his side, he snatched the items from her hand.

  “Out!” he ordered.

  The moment she stepped out of the cell, he closed the door and jammed Lucy’s blade in the lock. “Our work here is done,” he said.

  Then the men, with Carlie in their midst, marched out of the prison.