Just over six foot tall, he stood lean, but strong. A man in his prime, he'd taken on all of the bulk and muscle of a life of discipline. Bent forward in a fighting stance, his feet slightly apart, his breathing came rapid and deep, like that of a bull whose space had been invaded. In a single glance his piercing blue eyes inventoried all of the details of the cabin's interior. Glaring, they flickered past Mara, rested on Rowena's face for the briefest moment, then turned back to the Oathtaker. He reached up and back.
His eyes held a look of murderous intent. Fearing she and the babies were in danger, Mara reached for Spira, her only remaining weapon. Even had it not been so, it would have been her weapon of choice, as an Oathtaker's blade never misses its mark. Grasping it firmly, she slipped Spira from its sheath and let it fly. The weapon sped through the air straight toward the heart of the threatening intruder.
As she released Spira, the man loosed a nearly identical blade. In that moment, they both knew that the other was an Oathtaker.
The blades stopped and hovered in mid-air, each just inches from its intended target, for while an Oathtaker's blade will never miss its mark, it will never harm an Oathtaker—with one exception: were an Oathtaker's blade to be used against its owner, his death would be instant.
Mara and the stranger looked at one another's blades and then, simultaneously, they glanced up. Their eyes met.
The newcomer spoke first. "An Oathtaker?"
"Yes, as I see, are you. I'm Mara. Mara Richmond."
"Hmmm," was his curt reply. Then he said simply, "Dixon." He grasped Spira as Mara clasped his blade. Each offered the weapon of the other to its owner and then both returned them to their sheaths.
Dixon moved forward. "Rowena. Rowena, I'm here." Gently, he shook her.
Mara watched, her eyes riveted, expectant.
Upon touching the woman, Dixon's eyes turned quickly from the soft glance he'd given her, to a kind of madness. He jumped up and glared. "What have you done?" he hissed.
"What have I done?" Mara crouched down, pulled away the blanket that covered Rowena, then carefully took into her arms first Reigna, then Eden. She stood back up, holding herself as tall as she could. She glared. "What have I done? Oh, nothing! Oh, well that is, except—ahhh . . . well . . . let me think here . . ."
She hesitated, playacting. "Oh, yes, I remember now. I took down a full pack of grut, helped Rowena birth these beautiful children, accepted them as my charge, saw to it that she released her power with her dying breath, comforted her in her last moments . . . Shall I go on?" She took a deep breath. "What have I done? Who are you to accuse me of anything? I have done my duty!"
"I am her Oathtaker. That's who I am!"
"Were," Mara snapped. "You were her Oathtaker. She's dead. Or did I forget to mention that? So I might ask—what have you done? Where were you when she so clearly needed you? The truth is, if I hadn't arrived when I did, I expect we would have lost them all!" Her eyes remained fixed on him.
After some seconds, he looked away. "Dead," he whispered.
She couldn't tell if he was stating the fact, or asking if it was true. Considering the shock he must be feeling, she decided that arguing with him would not be in anyone's best interests. She recalled that above all, she must get the girls to safety quickly.
"I'm sorry, I did all I could. Rowena had lost too much blood before I arrived. She was a fighter, I know."
He didn't take his eyes from his former charge. He dropped to his knees at her side. Taking her hand into his own, he lifted it to his cheek and closed his eyes. His breathing slowed. His jaw set. Mara sensed he fought back tears. Slowly, he leaned forward to stroke the woman's cheek, then her hair. Finally, he bowed his head and audibly exhaled.
Mara watched his easy touch, saw his shoulders sag, and his eyes pressed closed. She knew that look.
"You loved her." She hadn't intended to speak the words out loud, but there they were—hanging in the air.
"Well," he said, clearing his throat, obviously restraining himself, "of course I cared deeply for her. She was my charge. She's been my charge . . . for some time now. I've forgotten what life is without her."
"No, that's not all. You . . . loved her. I can see it in your eyes, in your touch, in—"
"She was my charge!" He held Mara's gaze, as though daring her to challenge him further.
She said nothing. Perhaps he was trying to convince himself, but she wondered.
"You do understand the significance of the oath you just swore?" he asked, scornfully.
Of course she did. An Oathtaker's vow came with commitments. Mara hadn't given it much thought earlier, but when she swore her oath, she had sealed the deal. Her word bound her to the twins for so long as they lived. She could no longer follow another path.
In the moment she took her vow, Ehyeh bestowed gifts upon her, attendant magic and continued youth. She would not physically age until the death of her charge. Only then could she begin her life anew, follow other dreams. The same had been true for Dixon while his charge had lived. But what did his denial mean? What was he trying to imply? That because he'd sworn to accept Rowena as his charge, he'd not still been vulnerable to his own feelings, longings, desires? Had he been one who'd fallen into the state of pain that came with loving someone while subject to his oath?
"Of course I do," she confirmed.
He folded Rowena's arms across her breast, then brought the coverings up to her shoulders, as though to keep her from getting chilled. His trembling hands stopped every few moments to stroke her hair. Mara could see he warred with himself—wondering whether to keep his former charge in sight, or to cover her, or look away so he could deny to himself the reality of her death.
Not wanting to further interrupt him in his grief, Mara stepped out of the hut with the infants. She found a private space behind some shrubbery where she quickly changed out of her now bloodied Oathtaker's garb.
On the ground nearby, she found a basket. She picked it up and examined it. Although worn, it was sturdy. She placed Eden inside, then removed the last of her blankets from her bag. She wrapped Reigna up to her front side, and then grasped the basket's handle, leaving one hand free.
Stepping back inside the hut, she picked up Rowena's things scattered about. She examined each item briefly: a beautiful silver compact, a hair pin studded with small crystals in various colors, and the shawl. She placed them in her bag.
"I have to go. Rowena thought her children would be in great danger and I suspect she was right. I don't believe there's been a seventh seventh for . . . What? A couple hundred years or more? Reigna is likely the child we've all been waiting for. And that says nothing for Eden. Twins . . . It's never been heard of—a Select bearing twins," she whispered. "In any case, I promised I'd take the girls to safety at once."
"Reigna? Her name is Reigna?" Dixon raised grief-stricken eyes. "And Eden?"
Suddenly Mara felt deeply sorry for her fellow Oathtaker, and badly for having lashed out earlier. She looked away. His pain was too real. It made her feel as though she eavesdropped.
"Yes," she finally said, "the eldest is Reigna, the youngest Eden. Rowena named them herself. I took my oath while she still lived, and I intend to abide by it. So, I have to go. These babies will wake soon, and they'll wake hungry. My first order of business is to find milk for them—perhaps a wet nurse." She made her way to the door.
"Wait! I'll go with you." He sprang forward and grasped her arm. When she tried to pull away, he loosed his grip. "Listen, Mara. It's Mara, right?"
She frowned, then nodded, her brow raised.
"Listen, Mara, you're right about Reigna. She's the first seventh seventh in ages. Many have awaited her birth for . . . a very long time. Rowena and her friends planned her very existence. As to Eden, I can only guess at the significance of her birth." He hesitated. "Look, I can help you to carry out your charge. You need me. That is I . . . I—" He lowered his gaze. "Please. Please, let me come with you."
She considered his words. She could use some help. "Very well then, but we'd best be on our way and quickly. Just one thing though—and don't forget it. The girls? Reigna and Eden? They're my charge." She stepped out of the hut.
"Stop! Mara . . . stop. Rowena's releasing her power may have bought us—bought you," he quickly corrected himself, "a bit of time. But someone trailed us for months and they won't stop now. We need to erase whatever signs we can of what happened here."
She recalled the teachings of her local unit of the Oathtakers' Guild, her hood. When the ranking member of the Select released her power to her offspring, a unique magic allowed for a short window of time during which no one could track the new ranking member. Its origins had long since been forgotten, but stories told of the event having been witnessed more than once before.
"How much time do you think we have?"
"It's hard to say." He dropped his pack outside the door.
"Could you venture a guess?" She found his behavior encouraging her natural tendency toward sarcasm.
He gazed into the distance. "About two sun downs."
"Well then, I suppose leaving Rowena's body here would tell a great deal. You're right. It won't take that long to dig a grave. We don't want it too shallow, but we need to be quick and—"
"Think," he said condescendingly. "If we bury her body, those thugs following us could still find it. More likely, they would find it. Then they'd know she gave birth. We should burn this hut with," he hesitated, "her body. Then if those cretins find any sign we were here, or if they find her remains, they'd still have no evidence of the infants or of what happened here. With any luck, they'll think their chase has come to a close."
"Yes, I guess it's not likely they'd give up if they were responsible for the pack of grut that tried to take Rowena down. When they realize the beasts were destroyed, they'll have good reason to think someone survived."
"Hmmm."
"Well then, let's get moving." She exited.
"Where are you going?"
"To get some wood so that when this hut goes up in flames, there's plenty of fuel to keep it burning hot and for a good long time. The less evidence the better. Isn't that what you just said?"
Leaving him, Mara went into the woods to gather dry branches. She kept Reigna tied to her front side and walked about carrying Eden's basket. It left her but one hand to work with, so she selected large branches that she could drag back to the hut.
After some time, having seen no sign of Dixon, she grew irritated that he was not assisting her. Finally, breathless, she stepped back inside the hut. She found him kneeling at Rowena's side.
"Dixon, finish your 'good-byes' so we can get out of here."
Her voice jolted him back to the present. He unclasped a locket from around the dead woman's neck and placed it in his breast pocket, then slipped a ring from her finger. Finally, he pulled the blanket up over her face.
Mara wasn't certain, but she thought she heard him tell Rowena to "sleep well." Perhaps it was not such a good idea to take him along. She couldn't allow his mourning to hold them up. Shrugging, she went to gather more wood.
Dixon joined her efforts, but several minutes later, was nowhere in sight. Mara looked around. There, at the other side of the hut, he had squatted down. He brushed sand away from something on the ground. His head cocked to one side, then the other.
She approached.
"What's this?" He moved small twigs and fallen leaves aside revealing several sharp, triangular-shaped items of an uncertain gray, thick and curved, each about the size of his thumb.
She put Eden's basket down, then dropped to her knees for a closer look. She picked up one of the objects and turned it over. "Could they be . . . grut teeth?"
"Then there really were grut here," he murmured.
"I beg your pardon? Of course there were grut here. I said as much, didn't I?" She got back to her feet.
"Hmmm." He shrugged and looked away, as though embarrassed for having been so tactless. "Well, we'd best take them along. They contain powerful magic."
"Magic!"
"What are they teaching in the hood around here anyway?" he muttered. "Yes, they contain very powerful magic. They're the only part of a grut that might remain after its destruction . . . which is why they are extremely rare. The beasts cannot attack one who holds a grut tooth." He looked at her. "Of course the wearer could fall to any number of other weapons, but a grut couldn't harm him . . . or her."
Saying nothing more, she collected a total of twelve teeth. After placing eleven of them in a small leather bag tied to her belt, she approached Dixon who'd gone back to hauling wood. She held out one of the teeth. He put his hand out to accept it, though he refused to meet her eyes. After pocketing it, he resumed his task.
Once they collected enough wood to keep the cabin burning long and hot, Dixon reached forward, his hand in a fist. With a flick of his fingers, a fire burst forth.
Mara sprang back in surprise. "Well then," she said after catching her breath, "I guess we'd best get going. I have a lot of questions for you. I suppose, since my training has been so abysmal, so appallingly lacking, I'll need to draw on your expertise for a time. If you're willing, of course."
He shrugged.
Just then a howl carried through the air. Though well in the distance, it made Mara edgy. "Let's go."
Dixon turned away and entered the forest.
***Thank you for taking time with Oathtaker. I sincerely appreciate your votes and welcome your comments.***
Oathtaker is an award-winner in the 2014 Readers' Favorite International Book Award contest. A completed work, it is currently available in print form at CreateSpace at createspace.com/4767727, in print and for your Kindle on Amazon (see the link to your right) and from Barnes and Noble for your Nook.