He marched down the hall, his son in his wake. Behind them came several succedunt soldiers, one leading a chained grut along the way.
“Where are we going?” Broden asked, keeping watch on the beast.
Zarek turned his way and grinned. “We’re going to visit some prisoners of mine. You’ve been . . . reluctant to swear your allegiance to Daeva. Perhaps, if you see what it is you are up against, you’ll change your mind.”
“What prisoners?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
They made their way around another corner, took another turn, and then headed down yet another hallway. Broden assumed they were bound for the portion of the prison where Mara and the others were held.
Before long, they passed Zarek’s quarters. A minute later, the emperor came to an abrupt halt.
Broden almost ran into him, then stepped back.
“Any changes here?” the emperor asked the attending guards.
“None. The newest woman prisoner appears to be on the mend.”
Zarek glanced Broden’s way. “Come along then,” he said, grabbing his elbow. With that, they headed down a hallway.
Moments later, they stood outside a cell situated on the outer wall of the building. Broden glanced inside. He didn’t recognize the man within, but he surmised it was one of the prisoners about whom Carlie had informed him.
“Meet Dax,” Zarek said, “the Commander of the Oathtakers’ fighting forces.”
Dax approached the bars. “You’ll die for this,” he threatened.
Zarek threw his head back and laughed. “Oh? Exactly whose army do you think will accomplish that? Ha ha ha!”
Dax growled.
Zarek, ignoring him, strutted toward a cell on the opposite wall. “And here is his second-in-command, Aliza. She possesses a unique magic, I’m told.”
“Oh?” Broden asked.
Zarek explained her attendant magic power to take on the form of another.
As Broden bit his lip, Zarek turned to the cell to his left. He motioned toward it. “Now, I believe this might be an old friend of yours,” he said with a grin.
“Dixon,” Broden muttered.
“Yes, that’s right,” the emperor said. “Perhaps you’d like to fill him in on your position here as head of the prison.” He turned to the Oathtaker. “My son here, Broden, helps see to the women we send off to a special concentration camp in Darth. We’re busy building more like it in other places here in Chiran. Indeed, I have a mind to prepare one to house only Oosian women who’ve come our way.” He watched for a reaction, but got none. “He’s been instrumental in our cause, you might say.”
Dixon glared at Broden.
Broden wanted to shake his head to negate Zarek’s claim, but the man’s gaze rested on him.
“Come along then,” Zarek said, clearly enjoying himself.
When they arrived at the next cell, Zarek pointed toward Mara. “Ah! The great Oathtaker to the ranking members of the Select,” he said. His eyes narrowed as he looked more closely at her. “Hmmmm, you don’t look so good,” he said. “What do you think, son?” he asked, turning his way.
“Yes, you’re right. She doesn’t look well.”
“One less to concern ourselves with, should she meet her demise.” Zarek smiled, then moved on.
Seconds later, as he stood before the bars of the last cell, he motioned Broden forward. “And last—but surely not least—we have the current ranking members of the Select themselves—cousins of yours, if I’m not mistaken.” His brow rose as he tipped his head, watching Broden. “So, what do you think?”
Momentarily speechless, Broden pulled to his full height. He contemplated how to play this. If he appeared supportive of Zarek’s actions, perhaps the man would give him greater access.
“I . . . congratulate you . . . master,” he said.
“Oh, please, call me ‘Father,’” Zarek said with a chuckle. “Just think. We’ve gutted their attempts to fight back and we haven’t even engaged in a full-scale invasion yet.”
His eyes still on the twins, Broden nodded. “So, what are your plans? What’s held your hand against them thus far? Why do you allow them to live, anyway? Why not just kill them?”
The emperor pursed his lips. Then, “It’s all in the timing, Broden,” he said. “As you know, Brother Pestifere is away just now and— Well, I simply could not rob him of the satisfaction of seeing all his efforts and plans come to fruition. But you can be certain we won’t have long to wait now.”
“I see.”
Broden stepped back toward Mara’s cell. There he stopped to examine her blade stuck in the lock of the barred door. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing at it. “I see the same at the door of each of the other Oathtakers, as well.”
Kicking away an errant rat that scampered toward him, Zarek laughed. “I thought you’d never ask.” He leaned in and smiled at Mara. “Those locks are connected straight to Sinespe.” He turned back to Broden. “The Oathtakers’ blades make them unbreakable.”
“I don’t understand,” Broden said.
Zarek’s brow rose. “They cannot escape,” he said. “No magic powers to travel will take them away. And no magic powers to move things will allow this one,” he gestured toward Mara, “to retrieve her blade. Indeed, there is no magic they can practice that will help them out from behind these bars.”
She perked up, waiting for more. It was the first clue as to why her attendant magic had not allowed for her to do the very things he mentioned.
“Nothing short of an earthquake would open these locks without my say-so,” Zarek added. “So I’ve decided that— Well, perhaps I should put you in charge here, after all. You’ve done an excellent job with the women’s prison, to date. And here, you’d have a constant reminder of my strength—of the surety that I’ll win this battle.”
Broden’s heart skipped a beat. He knew now that there was no helping his friends escape. Still, the Good One did operate in mysterious ways. Perhaps there was something . . .
“Very well,” he said, “I’ll do it.”
She recalled a time, long ago, when she’d followed a passage from a barn, into the earth, ultimately discovering a magic artifact. Then, as now, bones were scattered on the ground all around her.
Patting the back of the child bound to her frontside, she put down the basket holding the other infant, then crouched next to it. She grabbed a handful of the smaller bones. Unlike those in the cave of her recollection, these included not only those of humans, ranging in age from the youngest to the oldest, but also those of animals, from the smallest of rodents, to what she surmised, was a big bear.
She got back to her feet, lit a flare, and continued down the passageway. Some of the smaller bones crunched beneath her feet. She had to keep going. She had to find her way out.
A second later she halted when she thought she felt a breeze across her shoulders, but on looking around, found no evidence of an opening, so she kept on.
Soon, she came to a fork in the path.
She peeked down in each direction, but could make out no discernible differences between the two. Thus, she determined that she’d stay to the right. If it forked again, and she stayed right each time, she’d know which way she’d gone if she had to turn back.
Suddenly, out from the surrounding stillness, came a low, throaty whine. A deep, grating growl, followed.
She stopped in her tracks.
The sound came again, and this time, a horrific odor accompanied it. She recognized the smell. It was that of a grut—of death, of decay, of Sinespe, the underworld.
She had to think. Should she back out and try another path? Or might the beast be guarding the way out? Surmising that could be the case, she continued on.
Suddenly, the growling, whining sound met her ears again. This time it rose in volume to a great howl.
She grabbed her blade, then paused to peek in at the little one in the basket. So still, it frightened her.
And at that very moment, the beast attacked.
Mara, awakening with a scream, sat up, shaking.
“What happened?” Dixon called out, his voice worry-laden. “Are you all right?”
Once again burdened with cramps, she winced with the pain of one, then took several deep breaths to calm herself.
“Mara?”
“Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I— I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound good,” Reigna said.
“She’s right,” Dixon said. “Are you ready to tell me what’s going on? Even Zarek noticed that you don’t look well.”
“Tell him, Mara,” Eden urged.
“I’m fine, Dixon,” she said, her voice clipped. She swallowed hard. Then, “Aliza,” she continued, “how is your arm?”
“Actually, it’s . . . Well, I’ve continued to pack it with the sugar Dixon threw my way earlier and the clean water Carlie has given me. It seems the infection is gone now—thankfully.”
“Good,” Dixon said. Then, “Nice try, Mara,” he commented.
“You know,” she said, “from what Zarek said, we’ve no chance of escaping here. I think I should inform Lucy of the facts. She and the Council could put someone else in charge and move forward with the plans we discussed before we left Oosa. We all may be casualties of this war, but the good people of Oosa needn’t be.” Just then, she cried out as a pain bit deeply, taking her entirely by surprise.
Dixon jumped to his feet. “Mara!”
Eden called her name. Then, “I think I know what’s happening,” she said.
Mara still recovering, didn’t respond.
“What is happening?” Dixon asked.
“Tell him, Mara, or I will.”
She said nothing.
Finally, after a long minute, Eden spoke again. “She’s pregnant, Dixon, and unless I miss my guess, she’s miscarrying.”
“Oh, Eden,” she cried, “you shouldn’t have—”
Dixon, struck dumb by the news, staggered. “Ahhh . . . Oh, dear Ehyeh, is it true? Mara?”
Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. “Yes,” she whimpered.
He dropped to his knees, rested his head against the bars. “Oh, Mara, I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” she whimpered. “It’s my fault. I should never have—”
“Stop it!” he ordered.
He stood, turned, and paced, then approached the bars again and grabbed them. “Please do not take responsibility for the wrongdoing of others. This is not your fault.”
“Mara?” Reigna said.
She didn’t answer.
“Mara, perhaps I could save the child.”
She sat up in a rush. “What?”
“If I could touch it, I could save it. Maybe Carlie would— I mean, if you lose it, maybe she’d—”
“No, Reigna,” Dixon whispered.
“What?” Mara cried, clearly distraught.
“She can’t, Mara. You know the price.”
“But this is our child she’s talking about!” She couldn’t believe Dixon would stop short of doing whatever it might take to save their infant. Shocked, she dropped back, then leaned her head against the cold wall.
“Gracious Ehyeh, I hate to say it, but Mara, if you think about it, you know that’s not the answer.”
She sobbed. How could he turn down the one thing that might save their little one? It was unthinkable that he’d refuse what Reigna could do.
“Mara,” he pleaded, “even if she could save our child— What would she save it to? For?”
When she said nothing, he continued. “Mara, you said it yourself. We can’t escape. And— And, you know, a child could not survive in here. Its only hope is in you.”
Mara curled up into the fetal position. She thought about everything he said. Finally, she said, “Please, don’t say anything more, Dixon.”
Everyone was quiet for several minutes. Then, out of the blue, Mara’s cramps having dissipated, she started in a whisper, to sing an old lullaby.
“What are you doing?” Reigna asked.
“You all should rest,” she said. Then she turned back to her song. She sang louder, but gently.
A minute later, certain the others slept, she stopped.
“Mara?”
She started. “Oh! It’s you, Dax.”
“What just happened?”
Recalling his power that made magic ineffective on him, she hung her head. “They’re all sleeping,” she said. “It’s part of my attendant magic. I just . . . I couldn’t talk about it any longer.”
She contemplated for a moment, then asked, “Dax, if no magic works on you, then how is it that you can’t escape your cell?”
“Because my door is locked as might be any other door—and I can’t unlock it. The fact that the mechanism is reinforced with magic doesn’t really matter.”
“I see.”
They both sat quietly for a time.
“You know,” he said, finally breaking the silence, “if you could pick our locks with your magic, then you could use that power you have to put others to sleep to keep anyone else from standing in our way of escaping.”
She huffed. “No. Don’t you see? You would stay awake, but so long as Dixon, the twins, and Aliza, heard me, they’d fall asleep.”
“Not if they knew it was coming. If they were prepared, they could cover their ears, or plug them with something.”
“So they’d stay awake while the guards fell asleep.”
“Right. Then you could take the girls from here, and Dixon could take—”
“Only one of you. That would still leave either you or Aliza behind.” She sighed. “Anyway, nice thinking, Dax, but there’s still the problem of the locks.”
“Right.”
“You should get some sleep now,” she said.
“No. I’ll keep watch for the others.”
“Suit yourself, then.”