“Push, Phaera. Hard now. Good.” Nurias face, or was it her mother’s, loomed again in front of hers. “Well done. The next one will bring the head.”
It did. Two more and the babe emerged. Nurias put her finger into the babe’s mouth to remove any mucous, at which Phaera heard a lusty cry.
“You may give Phaera the news.” Nurias beamed at Bain as she held the babe up for both Bain and Phaera to see.
“We have a son, my love.” Bain’s voice was so full of emotion Phaera almost couldn’t make out the words.
She peered over the edge of the blanket. “A son? An heir?” She didn’t know what to say. Yes, there it was. A penis. She had a son.
She heard Nurias as if from far away. “Bain, will you cut the cord? Here. Yes, just so.”
Nurias drew the child away and wrapped the blanket more securely around him. Then she handed him to Phaera and guided Bain’s hands around hers. “He is strong and healthy. A fine lad.”
Phaera hardly noticed when a contraction came on and the afterbirth slipped out. She just stared at the face of her son, her babe. He stared back at her as if to reassure her. His eyes watched her face with such serenity “Artem. Your name is Artem” He seemed to understand.
Bain whispered in her ear. “Thank you, my love,” but she hardly heard him.
She came out of her reverie only when Nurias said, “It is time to clean you up and get you into bed. Ashin, see to the babe and hand him to his father. It is time they met, I think.”
When Nurias got Phaera into bed she kept the blankets down and massaged her belly. Phaera knew this helped slow bleeding. Phaera looked over at Bain to see him staring, rapt, into the face of his son. The babe had gone to sleep.
Nurias finished her massage and drew the blankets up over Phaera’s chest. Then she reached for the babe and placed him in Phaera’s arms. “Are you ready to make the announcement, Son?”
Bain seemed to shake himself back to the present and leapt out of his chair. “Of course.” He strode to the door and into the hall to shout, “A son. We have a son.”
A cheer went up in the corridors. When that ended Phaera heard someone ask, “And how fares Lady Phaera?”
Phaera could almost feel Bain’s joy, not only hear it. “She is well.”
Another cheer.
When it died down Bain turned to face into the chamber again. “My love, I hate to leave you but I must let my father know.”
Phaera nodded. “Come back quickly.”
When the door closed Nurias sat on the bed next to Phaera. “My dear, you have done well. This was an easy – and fast – birth. I think you need never fear childbirth again.” She paused. “You are not your mother.” Phaera felt the will of her gaze. “Do you understand?”
Phaera nodded, remembering her vision. “Mama was there.”
“I do not doubt it.” Nurias took her hand and they sat in silence together until Bain returned.
Nurias rose. “You will want to be alone now.”
With that she and Ashin left, Nurias closing the door firmly behind them.
Epilogue
When a people, and also individuals, have endured crises, suffered losses, and celebrated hard-won victories, these peaks in the cycle of life are usually followed by periods of peace and predictable stability. This is true at all levels - in the cycles of history and in the lives of individuals, families, and groups.
It will not come as a surprise, then, to learn that the futures of Phaera, Bain, and those close to them, as well as that of the fiefs of Marston, Kinterron and their allies, settled into a similar pattern of calm, at least for the duration of their lives.
Lord Makin never recovered enough to resume regular duties but he lived another five years, during which time he acted as advisor and support as Bain took on the role of Lord. They did not always agree but their mutual respect made theirs a solid relationship. Bain, over time, was able to change some laws and customs in the direction of greater cooperation, consultation, and inclusion. He earned the respect and love of the people as a result, in spite of resistance from some of the older men who wanted to keep the old ways. Bain also had the support of Captain Reynce, a man who helped convince those reluctant to embrace his less authoritarian approach.
Phaera was able to carry on with her healing work. She gradually had Kort take over much of her practice as her court duties and motherhood demanded more of her time, especially after Lady Flor became less able to do so. Her influence at court, at least at Marston, led to an easing of some of the formality she hated. This was received with mixed responses, especially from the other fiefs when it was Marston’s turn to hold the twice annual gatherings.
Phaera bore three more children, a daughter, Lena, then another son, Rilken, and lastly another daughter, Serin.
Serin was born with a large facial birthmark. She was headstrong like her mother and followed Phaera’s footsteps to become a healer, as apprentice to Kort. She declared, almost with relief, that no man of high status would want a woman with a marred face and used that excuse to avoid marriage and to remain absent from the gatherings where young men would be looking for suitable matches. Like her mother she had no patience with protocol and ceremony.
Both Bain and Phaera supported those decisions.
Artem proved to be a strong, intelligent, and healthy lad. Bain and Phaera made sure his education, and that of his siblings, included involvement with the common folk, which taught them respect for all walks of life. All four were exposed to the art of healing as well as that of conflict and history. They made sure that their daughters were also taught classes in politics and strategy. When Lena wed it was to a man of her own choosing, though with the approval of her parents.
While the lords of their allies did not all follow in this pattern, the ones that took over ruling Belthorn and Exalon after the war proved to be good choices. They restored order and trust in both fiefs and became staunch allies and trade partners.
Human nature being what it is, peace did not last indefinitely. The lesser conflicts still arose. Old attitudes do not change overnight but evolve gradually. Eventually, with the following generations, greed and the lust for power in the few led to the predictable greater conflicts again. But that cycle of history remains for another tale.
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ALSO BY YVONNE HERTZBERGER
EARTH’S PENDULUM TRILOGY
Back From Chaos: Book One of Earth’s Pendulum
Battle and bloodshed have upset the Balance, crippling the goddess Earth’s power to prevent further chaos. Unless it is restored more disasters will ensue: famines, plagues, more unrest, and war.
Four chosen: Lord Gaelen of Bargia, Klast, his loyal spy and assassin, Lady Marja of Catania and her maid Brensa. Each is unaware of the roles they must play in restoring that Balance.
Most important of these is Klast. It is he who must rescue the kidnapped maid, he who must unmask and bring to justice the traitor who threatens all their lives. It is also he who must deal with the scars from his tormented and abused past before he can accept the final part he must play in Earth’s recovery. And during it all he remains unaware of the role he is destined to play and why his connection to the maid is essential.
He is a most reluctant and unlikely hero.
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Through Kestrel’s Eyes: Book Two of Earth’s Pendulum
Through Kestrel’s Eyes, begins seventeen years later. The peace that followed the end of the Red Plague is shattered when the lords of Gharn and Leith are toppled by traitors, throwing the land into chaos.
Liannis, the goddess Earth’s seer, her apprentice
ship interrupted by the death of her mentor, must help restore the Balance. Until it is, Earth’s power is weakened, preventing Earth from sustaining the rains needed for good harvests. Drought and famine result.
Liannis battles self-doubt, the lure of forbidden romance, and deep loss as she faces tests that take her to the brink of her endurance.
But Earth sends a kestrel that allows Liannis to see with her eyes and a white horse to carry her, both with the ability to mind-speak.
Time is short. The people with starve if Earth cannot heal.
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The Dreamt Child: Book Three of Earth’s Pendulum
Liannis, the goddess Earth’s seer, can no longer deny the meaning of her recurring dream. She must join with Merrist, her devoted hired man, and bear a child – one with great gifts. Earth has decreed it. But the people resist the changes she brings, bringing danger to the pair and strife to the lands. Both Liannis and Merrist must face tests, sometimes without each other, to fulfill their destiny and bring The Dreamt Child forth into safety. They must succeed if they are to initiate the new era of peace and balance so desperately needed.
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Labyrinth Quest
When M’rain stops to rest in the mouth of a forbidden cave she is captured and help captive with a band of slaves in thrall to a madman. With the help of Glick, a spirit lizard, she escapes, only to have him charge her with restoring all yhe captives to their home village. Glick gives her magical sight for the ominous darkness of the caves and trails of light to follow so she will not become lost in the labyrinth of tunnels.
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READ THE FIRST CHAPTER OF BACK FROM CHAOS: VICTORY AND CAPTURE
Marja clutched her small jewelled dagger with white-knuckled fingers. She crouched in the corner, pressed tightly behind the door of the privy, willing herself invisible. The rough wood at her back pricked her through the light linen of her gown, and the muscles in her legs threatened to cramp from holding herself rigid. Her heart raced with terror. She knew if they found her she was dead, or even worse. She had heard what soldiers did to women, especially young, comely ones. Her beauty would not serve her now, nor would her rank as daughter of the ruling house. She gripped the dagger tighter. They will not take me. I will not suffer that. I cannot.
She suppressed the impulse to gag from the reek of burnt buildings and charred flesh. Even the usual stench of the privy was preferable to this. She tried in vain to blink away the smoke that filled every space and burned her eyes. Her nose tickled, and she fought the urge to sneeze or cough. Any noise might give her away.
Mercifully, she no longer heard the screams of the women and children. The last span or so had gone quiet except for the muffled sounds of men putting out fires. She could make out only the occasional shouted order from a soldier. She hoped to Earth that meant it was over. Perhaps she would escape after all … if she could stay hidden until dark. She knew a back way out but could not safely get to it. They might see her crossing the hall if she left her hiding place now. Too many enemy soldiers still moved about. Keep still. Do not give yourself away. Wait, she repeated to herself, over and over, like a hypnotic chant.
Marja’s body jerked in a spasmodic shudder as she recalled again the chaos that had wakened her at dawn. The Bargian army was well-trained and well-armed. They had successfully taken her father’s army by surprise, by hiding in the forest only half a day’s ride away and slipping close under cover of darkness. Had her father not scorned the advice of his advisors to guard the city more vigilantly, his people might not now be paying the price of his madness. The thought filled Marja with a moment of fury. Why had he not listened?
Marja wondered how Cataniast’s informants had convinced him that the rumours of a planned invasion were false. Somehow they had persuaded the suspicious autocrat that the Bargians wanted to finish spring planting before coming to take Catania. Who had managed this clever misdirection? Had the Bargians bought off her father’s informants?
Marja knew that many in Catania would be pleased to see the House of Cataniast fall. A pall of fear, suspicion and secrecy had hung over his court for years. She had watched many merchants and shopkeepers flee Catania, and she could not blame them. Some had gone to Bargia, the enemy who now bore responsibility for their defeat.
Only spans earlier, a servant had come running to Marja, crying, “Flee, my Lady. We must go now!” Marja had refused. At the girl’s tearful request for permission to go, Marja had given it freely. She saw no purpose in keeping the terrified maid with her.
How could things have come to this so quickly? She had heard Northgate fall before midday. The sounds of clashing swords, the shouting of soldiers, and the cries of men dying had reached her even where she hid deep within the castle.
Marja knew that her father had fought at Northgate and had heard from the frantic shouts of the retreating men that he had been slain. After that, the invaders soon breached Eastgate and Southgate and overran the city. Those who had not been killed had fled. Now she waited alone for the death that surely awaited her.
When she could remain still no longer, Marja decided to venture into the main hall. If she could make her way to the hidden passage across the balcony it could lead her to freedom. She had just emerged from her hiding place when she heard the trudge of boots on stone and froze again.
“Looks clear. Klast, you take that side and I will check this one.”
The words drifted up to where Marja stood rooted to the floor. Heart pounding, she found her feet and quickly shrank back into her corner. Here they come, she thought. I waited too long.
Marja made herself as small as she could as she listened to the man climb the stairs and check the room beside hers. Then his steps became louder as he entered her chamber. She held her breath as the steps went silent for a moment, then resumed in the direction of her privy. Her eyes went to the dagger still clenched in white-knuckled fingers. She could not have pried her hand open even if she had wanted to. Her fingers seemed welded shut. Do I have the courage to do it? I must! I will not let them use me. I cannot.
Suddenly, the door swung out and he stood before her.
Marja froze and caught a look of surprise crossing the soldier’s face as he halted. She took in his air of authority, his broad shoulders and the wavy, straw-coloured hair, now lank with sweat and tied out of the way. He wore well-cut breeches, a tunic in the blue and yellow of Bargia, now stained with blood, and he carried a fine sword. Marja recognized her assailant. Here stood the son of Lord Bargest, the spawn of the enemy who had brought this upon them.
He raised his sword for the killing blow. It felt like she watched from a distance, the motion slow and dreamlike, as if time had stopped. He halted, arm in midair, seeming to assess the woman before him.
What did he see, she wondered? Could he see her determination, her terror? Could he see past the dirt and smoke to her expensive clothing, the heavy gold chain still about her throat, the jewelled earrings and the hands unused to rough work? Would he understand that she was someone of rank? Would her russet hair tell him he beheld someone from Cataniast’s family? Would it make any difference?
Slowly, he lowered his sword’s point to the ground. Time resumed its normal pace. His face showed no signs of battle frenzy, but his eyes remained alert, and she knew he would not hesitate to use the sword if he needed to. Marja remained crouched, unwavering, dagger ready, defiance now faltering as confusion pierced her mental armour.
“I am Lord Gaelen of Bargia.” He spoke formally, but she did not miss the weariness in his face and tone. “There is no point in resisting. My army has defeated you, and this demesne is now mine. Give me the knife. I will offer you my protection, at least until I decide how to proceed with the governance of this land. You will not be harmed. Surrender your weapon. Enough have died today.”
This could not be true. He could not let her live. Marja smelle
d deception. “A daughter of the House of Cataniast will not be allowed to live!” she spat back. “You cannot take that risk. My people will rally behind me and continue to fight.” Marja remained where she stood, knife just below her left breast, poised for the killing thrust. “I will not be taken to be used as a gaming piece and disposed of later.”
She watched Gaelen raise one eyebrow slightly at her declaration. Then he rubbed his free hand across his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lady, you mistake me for someone without honour. I have given my word that you will not be harmed, and I am a man of my word. Surrender your weapon.” He hesitated. “I cannot assure you will not be injured if you force me to take it from you. But I have seen enough blood today and have no wish to spill yours. We will speak later on your fate. Unlike your lord father, I am not a man who acts in haste.”
Marja did not miss the fleeting expression of anger at his mention of her father.
When she did not move, he added, “I gain nothing from spilling more blood. I swear, you and your people will be treated justly. Now give me the knife.”
Something in his weary tone and the unwavering stance, feet planted apart, broke through Marja’s defiance. What had he said? Honour? Justice? Her people? Could she trust him even so far? Could she yet effect some good for her people? A small flicker of hope ignited. With it, the iron will that had sustained her crumbled. Her arm lowered, and the dagger fell out of her hand to the floor.
Just as her knees buckled, he caught and steadied her, kicking the knife away in the same fluid motion.
Altered Destinies- Earth Reborn Page 30