Ephemeral and Fleeting

by Patricia Reding

  Stepping up, Carlie patted his back in commiseration.

  “I don’t know why she would have brought Pestifere here,” he said, “but— Well, things aren’t always what they seem, I guess. In any case, without firm evidence that she intended any harm, I’d do anything to help her.”

  Chapter Fifty

  With both Mugger and Mother gone, Pestifere had been free to devote his time to Zarek. In truth, he doted on him. Meanwhile, the boy never failed to please. Indeed, he committed his own first murder shortly after Mother’s death.

  Yes, the boy was strong, bright—and best of all—without restraint.

  He introduced the child soon after he met him—in his seventh year—to Daeva. Fortunately, the underlord approved. Seven years later, he re-introduced him. Now old enough, mature enough, aware enough, to make decisions and to appreciate the consequences of them, he asked Zarek if he wanted to swear his allegiance to the underlord.

  He did.

  I wanted to get rid of Lucy—but a simple murder wasn’t good enough for her. No, that which she perceived as her first interest—the Select—should go down with her. So, I made my plans, while Daeva made his. Fortunately, they coincided.

  About that time, the underlord discovered Lilith’s hatred for her sister. When, in her childish anger and resentment, she’d vowed with the vigor that only a young one could, that she’d do anything to destroy Rowena, he visited her. It was a connection the two would maintain over the years.

  Time passed. Finally, when Zarek’s twenty-first year arrived, he once again, re-committed himself to the lords of the underworld. Meanwhile, Lilith reached the ripe age of fourteen. She hadn’t given up on her hopes of destroying her sister. Thus, she confirmed with Daeva that she would follow him; she needed him.

  Since Lilith was willing to do what it would take to bring Rowena down, Daeva agreed to help her. It was unlikely, after all, that her own Oathtaker—Marshall—would ever notice her change in allegiance. He’d sworn his oath for her protection when she was just an infant—back when she was fully innocent.

  Daeva knew the Oathtaker’s bond to her would be severed as a consequence of her actions, but doubted the man would ever notice. It was more likely that he’d blame himself for failing her in some regard. Who, after all, would ever expect that such a young one could turn so completely against her own kind? But she, like Zarek earlier, had been fully aware in her teen years of what it was that she was doing. And so, Daeva would use her.

  It was then that their plans truly began to take shape.

  Over the years, until Lucy took refuge at the compound where he was unable to locate her, Pestifere left Zarek from time to time to return to Oosa—to spy on Lucy. He recalled in detail, the day he’d discovered her connection to Rowena. He knew it would devastate Lucy to lose her. Thus, he contemplated a simple assassination. But upon informing the underlord of all he’d learned, Daeva urged him to exercise patience, as his goal was to destroy not only Rowena, but the Select as a whole—once and for all. Wouldn’t that be better, the underlord reasoned? Wouldn’t Lucy suffer all the more?

  Yes, she would—and Lilith had offered the perfect opportunity to bring that suffering about.

  Rowena continued with her mission to bring about a seventh born daughter of a seventh born daughter of the Select. As she concentrated on her interests, he helped Daeva with plans for Lilith and Zarek. He was devastated when those plans did not work. Then he and the underlords spent the next two decades coming up with a new scheme.

  And finally, it was coming to fruition.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Mara got into position, her palms and tiptoes on the floor, her body parallel to it. Her exercises were helping her to build back her strength. Still, it always seemed that muscle was lost much more quickly, than gained. She dropped down, lifted herself back up, then repeated the procedure, over and over again, counting out.

  When she reached fifty, she jumped to her feet. She bent over and touched the floor several times. Then she stood with her legs wide, one foot directed straight toward the bars, her knee bent. She pointed her other foot to the side and ground it to the floor. Then she held her arms out at her sides. She stretched toward her bent knee and the bars, then to the back of the cell, then toward the bars again. With her front knee still bent, she squared her hips toward it. Fisting her hands together, she bent at her waist, and stretched over her bent knee.

  In short order, her front leg shook from the added weight. Slowly, she straightened it. Then she lifted her back foot off the floor until her leg was parallel to it. She balanced, arms still forward, her hands still fisted. When she could hold the position no longer, she repeated it on her other side.

  “Are you all right, Mara?” Reigna asked.

  “Fine,” she muttered through gritted teeth. Fortunately, her stretching, power-building exercises didn’t take much room to do, and they kept her busy. As an added bonus, they also cleared her mind.

  “What do you make of the situation with Petrus?”

  She released her position. Then she stood on her tiptoes, her hands high above her head, balancing. Dropping her arms down and returning firmly to the soles of her feet, she approached the bars.

  “I don’t know what to make of it,” she said.

  “I’m sure Dax is wrong,” Lucy sounded out.

  “I’m sure I’m not,” he said.

  “Well, I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Eden said. “You know, I’ve maintained that Broden is innocent—and I think I’m right. Those guards made sure he was removed from here last night before you arrived, Lucy. There must have been a reason for that.”

  “I don’t want to think badly of him,” Reigna said, “but if Petrus could fool Lucy, then maybe Broden could fool you, Eden.”

  Just then, Broden and Carlie arrived for the day, along with the guards.

  Pursuant to his usual routine, Broden grabbed the buckets of gruel and water. He shuddered at the sight of the bugs that crawled in the food and at the scum that floated atop the water. Then he made his way down the hall, Carlie in his wake.

  When he arrived at the twins’ cell, he glanced in at Lucy in the one opposite. She looked awful. Her hair was in a mess and her eyes were black and blue. Quickly, he averted his gaze.

  Eden approached the bars, then whispered, “I still believe in you, Broden.”

  Noting a guard coming near, he flinched.

  “See, Eden?” Reigna muttered to her twin. “He can’t even look at Lucy. And the idea that you still believe in him unsettles him. So maybe he still has a conscience after all—however seared.”

  The guard stopped in front of Broden. “Zarek will be stopping by for a visit today,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. It seems he’d like to welcome our newest . . . guest.” Looking in at Lucy, he chuckled.

  “I see.” Broden’s eyes flickered briefly her way. “Ahhh . . . when?” Would the emperor stop by when Striver and Yasmin intended to cause a disturbance? If so, that could ruin his chance of getting to talk to his friends.

  “Any time now.”

  Broden breathed a sigh of relief. Striver wouldn’t act until twilight.

  From down the hall came the sounds of footsteps shuffling, and heels click-clacking. They grew louder by the second.

  Moments later, Zarek appeared. He marched onward until he stood just outside Lucy’s cell. Upon arrival, he said, his brow arched and with a wide smile, “So good of you to stop by.”

  She spat at him.

  “Now, now,” he mocked her.

  “Where is he?” Lucy asked. “Where is Petrus? What have you done with him?”

  At that moment another person entered. His feet shuffled, making a swish-swishing sound. He made his way down the row of cells until he stood at Zarek’s side. There he stopped and looked in at her.

  “Petrus!” she cried. “Are you all right?”

  “That’s not Petrus,” Broden said.

  “Like I’d belie
ve you!” Lucy growled at him. “You . . . traitor!”

  Zarek folded his arms. “Go on then, Broden, tell her,” he said.

  “It’s Brother Pestifere.”

  She glared at him. “Who?”

  He pursed his lips, then looked hard at Lucy. “It’s Brother Pestifere. He is Zarek’s spiritual mentor.”

  “Wh—” Lucy stepped back. “He— You—”

  Pestifere drew nearer. “He is right. Like so many other things, I left the name ‘Petrus’ behind.”

  “How— Why—”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head in disdain. “You are such a fool, Lucy.” He sneered.

  She struggled to find words. Finally, she cried, “I don’t believe you! You’re an Oathtaker!”

  “I was an Oathtaker.”

  She turned away, paced. “How could you turn like that?”

  “How could you turn from me?”

  She stared at him. “That’s what this is about? Because I was unwilling— Because I wouldn’t allow you to break your oath for—”

  “For what, Lucy?” Pestifere pursed his lips. “Let me just say that you made it clear to me that if I wanted anything to say about my future, I would have to find another way.”

  She rubbed her head. “I don’t understand. You swore to uphold Ehyeh’s way.”

  “Yes, and I changed my mind. I was not the first to do so, you know, and I am sure I will not be the last.”

  “But you could have renounced your vow. Sure, you might have been found guilty of treason, perhaps served some time . . . But this?”

  “Yes, well, I made my choice—and it was a good one. How do you think I managed to create a mechanism from which you cannot break free?”

  He ran his bony finger along the lock on her door and in which her blade was jammed. “You see this here?” he asked. “This metal was once my blade. When I turned to Daeva, he told me how to use Ehyeh’s own weapon against Him. I fashioned this prison,” he added with a wave of his hand to indicate their surroundings, “with locks on the cells made from other blades like my own.” He leaned in closer. “That is, from the blades of Oathtakers who turned away—the blades of those who ended the lives of their former charges so as to free themselves from their oaths.” His lips turned up into a near smile. “They create a direct link to Sinespe. So your Vivacitas, in contact with a blade like mine, is rendered . . . useless.”

  “You killed your charge? You killed Tam?”

  He nodded.

  “Dax says that in truth, you’re an old man. So . . . you must have murdered Tam when he was still young.”

  “Shortly after we parted ways, years back, yes.”

  Her mouth moved as though she couldn’t find words. Then she asked, “How is it that there was no hearing following his death?”

  Pestifere scoffed. “By eliminating his parents as well, of course. Who else would have had reason to ask around about him? Then I moved here, to Chiran.”

  She stared at him. “No doubt you waited to ‘join’ our cause until after Dax left with Dixon. You knew Dax could see through to the truth. But . . . how is it that you still manage to look young to the rest of us?”

  “Through the use of a hex . . . and with Daeva’s assistance, of course.”

  She turned away, then quickly looked back. “You say there have been others?”

  “Do you really find that thought so unbelievable? Of course there have been others.”

  “And you used their blades to make the other locks on the other cells here?”

  “I did, indeed.”

  Lucy stood mute for long seconds. She rubbed her temples. Then, “You framed Percival,” she said.

  Pestifere stood, mute.

  “You left that note—and those books and maps in his room!” Her eyes narrowed. “And it was you who hid in the closet and spied on my meeting with Jerrett and Velia. You must have gone to the conference room later to steal a good look at the map.” She glared at him.

  Still, he said nothing.

  She pondered. “I take it you were responsible for Salus’s disappearance?”

  The corners of Pestifere’s lips turned up into an actual smile.

  “What did you do to him? And why? Did he find out something you didn’t want disclosed?”

  Pestifere grunted. “Suffice it to say, he served a purpose.”

  Her mouth hung open. “Lucky for you, the barkeep at The Swindler’s Cup erred as I did, mistaking Percival for you.”

  “You believed what you wanted to believe about me, Lucy—and about him.”

  “You see, Broden?” Zarek said to him. “It’s like I told you. With me, you’re on the winning side. Her way,” he pointed at Lucy, “will no longer be an option for anyone.”

  “What do you want, Petrus?” Lucy asked.

  “From you? Nothing. Not anymore.”

  “Leave,” she ordered through gritted teeth.

  Zarek, watching on, laughed outright.

  She glared at him. “How long do you intend to hold us here? What is it you want anyway?”

  Leaning in, the chains about his neck rattling, the emperor whispered, “I want to see you die. Your demise will convince all Oosians—like Broden here, who knows the truth—that Ehyeh’s battle is already lost.” He grinned and then added, “I now hold all of Oosa’s most trusted leaders, hostage. What pleasure Brother Pestifere and I will have witnessing your misery as you watch at least some of your friends go before you. All we need do now, is determine who of you will be first.”

  With that, he and the priest walked away.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Striver, Yasmin, Farida, and Ghazala, reported to duty at the women’s prison, as usual. Throughout the morning, Yasmin and Farida selected women to fill two caravans for transport. Striver struggled to keep the guards’ attentions from the fact that, whenever possible, they chose the oldest and weakest of the prisoners. Meanwhile, Ghazala, as the guards had long since ordered, sorted through the women’s belongings for anything of value. Slowly, a pile of miscellaneous coins, along with the occasional valuable trinket, or jewel, grew. Zarek would use the riches to fund his venture.

  The day dragged on. As usual, the air was filled with the women’s crying, and with their pleas for help. Added to them came the ominous and grating howls of the grut, scattered about the prison grounds.

  Striver hated turning his back on the captives, but there was nothing he could do for them, so he stayed on task.

  Around noon, a group of succedunt warriors arrived. A woman—Tanith—accompanied them. Striver knew her from the dinner with Zarek, months hence, when he’d accompanied Broden. Since then she’d returned regularly to escort new prisoners to the camp that she supervised, in Darth. This time, she caused added friction when she took over Yasmin’s job of sorting through the prisoners to choose those she would take back with her. She preferred younger women at her camp, she explained to them all.

  Midday came and went, as wagons rambled in and out. All the while, Striver kept a close eye on the whereabouts of those women who would play such critical roles in events to come. Then afternoon settled in. Goodness, but it seemed to drag on and on.

  Finally, Striver noted that the sun neared the western horizon. Within minutes would come the gloaming.

  He approached Yasmin as she struggled to separate a mother from her young daughter. The child couldn’t have been more than twelve years of age. The two clung to one another, weeping.

  “Are you about through here?” he asked.

  “These are the last two,” Yasmin said, tears in her eyes. “I’m trying to keep the young one at camp here, but her mother won’t part with her.”

  Tanith stepped up, unexpectedly. “That’s enough,” she said as she grabbed the child’s arm and yanked her loose from her mother’s grip. She pushed her toward the group of prisoners she’d selected earlier and then ordered the child’s mother to step aside.

  Striver couldn’t help himself. He approached the mother, then mutt
ered near her ear, “Keep an eye on your daughter. Be prepared to rush to her side. When the opportunity arises, take her and run. Run for all you’re worth. Head west for Oosa. Do not look back.”

  She pulled back and looked up at him, her eyes narrowed.

  He nodded at her before turning toward where Yasmin stood. When she acknowledged him with a raised finger, he looked over the crowd again, eventually catching Farida’s eye. Then came Ghazala. Once sure each of the women had her attention on him, he nodded, almost imperceptibly.

  Per their prearranged plan, Ghazala returned to the prison entrance. She stood at the door, waiting. When her cohorts saw that she’d arrived there safely, they set out with their plan.

  Yasmin strolled to the back of the transport wagon she’d been emptying. From there, the building full of weapons was located several long strides away. Fortunately, the door to it was open. She collected a crystal from the pack about her waist, pulled her arm back, and then, with an underhand toss, threw it inside.

  At the same time, Striver targeted a spot beneath a now-empty wagon, around which several guards had gathered.

  Farida did the same.

  The explosions came one right after the next. More followed, when Striver and the women threw additional crystals at added targets.

  Pandemonium erupted. The air filled with smoke, shouting, and screaming, as prisoners dashed away from the center of activity. Meanwhile, nearby guards, some leading chained grut, ran toward the commotion.

  Striver searched through the smoke-filled air struggling for a view of Ghazala. He spotted her just as Yasmin and Farida reached her side.

  He dashed toward them all.

  Upon arrival, he grabbed Ghazala’s hand. “Did you unlock the cells in the women’s prison?” he asked her.

  “Yes! The moment the first explosion sounded out.”

  “Good.” Then, pulling her along, he ran. Yasmin and Farida followed.