by NS Dolkart
Another week went by, and another. The weather grew hot and dry, and finally Hunter said that they could leave the shelter of the mountains and find a road again. It took them the rest of the day to find a gorge that led out to the plains, where they washed their dirty faces in the river and lay down to rest at the water’s edge.
That night, it happened. Bandu awoke, her stomach a solid ball of pain. A moment later the pain was gone, but it soon returned with a terrible cramping sensation. Her young did not kick or move – it seemed to have slid down inside her while she slept, finding a place to hide from her tensing muscles.
Another jolt from her stomach, and she sat up sharply. Her back was beginning to ache, but for now, this did not bother her. All she could think of was Criton.
Should she wake him? He would try to take control, she knew he would, and she did not want that. But didn’t he deserve to know?
Another contraction. No, Criton could wait until after. He would only trouble her now, and she did not have time for trouble. Phaedra would be more sympathetic… but would she be useful? Bandu was sure that she would have a lot of advice to give – advice that she had never tried out herself. Hunter was kind and gentle, but he seemed afraid of her body. He might be a wonderful help, but she could not risk it.
Narky? He knew more than he said about these things. He had helped her with Four-foot, and he had grown up in one of the farms by the forest. He would have seen sheep give birth, and maybe helped them… but no. Even though Narky might be the best one to help her, she knew how much it would hurt Criton to have another man there beside her instead of him. No, she could not ask Narky. She would have to do this herself.
She rose, gasping for breath, and tottered forward in the dark. She had to get away from them all, far enough so that they would not awaken until she had finished. She staggered through the night, stopping now and then just to clutch her belly and breathe. It was such an urgent feeling, that feeling in her belly. It was much more than pain. It was a force.
She sank to her knees and planted her hands on the ground, drawing strength from the steady earth. Wave after wave came upon her, each one longer than the last, and with less time to rest in between. Her dress bothered her, so she took it off. She lost track of time after that, with her mind focused entirely on her belly and her breathing. This was lasting hours, she thought, during a brief moment of clarity. Then another wave struck, and she stopped thinking.
At some point in the night, the feeling shifted. It became harder, more painful, more frightening. Her legs were wet, and she could not remember when or how they had gotten that way. She thought someone might be screaming, though she could not think who. When she felt she could take no more, she crawled forward and sat in the river.
The water should have been icy cold, but instead it steamed off her skin in roiling waves, filling the air with vapors. Her body was about to burst from the bottom up. She felt it straining, ready to tear at any minute. Then she reached down through the bubbling water, and felt a head.
It did not take long after that. She bore down as the current swept over her, and soon the head gave way to shoulders and torso and a behind, and Bandu caught the little creature and pulled it from the water.
It was a scaly little thing, its arms and legs covered in slippery armor. It was a girl. And as the first rays of sunlight fell upon her head, she began to cry.
56
Phaedra
They found Bandu with blood on her mouth and a baby at her breast, sitting by the water’s edge completely naked. Criton rushed forward, anxious to see his wife and child, while Narky looked at his feet and Hunter tried very hard not to stare – with little success.
“She’s beautiful!” Criton exclaimed. “Are you all right, Bandu? What happened to your mouth?”
“I am good,” Bandu answered. “Everything is good. It’s over.”
“But the blood,” insisted Criton. “Bandu, there’s blood on your face and hands.”
She nodded. “I was hungry,” she said.
“Oh,” said Criton, sounding disgusted. “Well, she’s beautiful!”
An hour or two later, while Criton and Hunter were helping Bandu hobble along behind them, Narky said, “You know, I think that’s the ugliest baby I’ve ever seen.”
“Narky!” Phaedra huffed disapprovingly, but she secretly agreed. Baby Goodweather was undeniably hideous. Her whole body was a patchwork of skin and scales, her head was cone-shaped and bald, and her nose was too big for her tiny face. An ugly stump of cord extended from her belly, ragged at the end where Bandu had apparently bitten it off. But that didn’t matter. It was clear that her parents loved her, and it would not do to make fun of her. Besides, she wouldn’t look like this forever. She might even grow into that nose one day.
Bandu could hardly walk now, even with support. Phaedra didn’t blame her for it, of course, but there was no doubt that it slowed them down. Even as close as they were to the edge of the mountains, they only barely made it onto the plains before nightfall. Dimly lit to their north, a familiar walled city sat leaking smoke from many a chimney. Anardis. It seemed that Bestillos had not destroyed the city completely after all.
“This is no good,” Narky said, as he and Criton built the fire for their camp. “At this rate, it’ll be months before we ever reach Psander. By the time we get there, Bestillos will have sacked the place.”
“Bandu can’t walk any faster,” Criton scolded him. “You want to carry her?”
“No,” said Narky, “but we could get a cart from a farm or something. That way we can at least move at a real walk.”
“We’re out of money,” Hunter reminded him. He was sitting to one side, sharpening his sword against a stone.
Narky rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about buying a cart, I’m talking about taking one.”
“You mean stealing,” Phaedra said.
Narky returned her gaze sternly. “This is war,” he answered her. “Or it’s basically war, anyway. Psander is probably under siege as we speak, and if she’s not, she will be soon. If we want her help freeing Salemis, we’re going to have to find a way to get to her before Bestillos puts her head on a pike.”
What could Phaedra say to that? He was right, of course. It made no sense for them to travel at Bandu’s pace, or at Phaedra’s for that matter.
“You don’t like stealing from poor farmers, is that it?” Narky asked, misconstruing her silence. “These are the same poor farmers who shut their doors to us on our way to Anardis. They don’t deserve your sympathy.”
“You’re right,” Phaedra told him. “You’re right.”
“You and I can find a cart tomorrow,” Hunter suggested. “Criton can stay here just in case, and spend some time with his daughter.”
Criton thanked him and turned to Bandu and Goodweather, smiling. Bandu smiled back, a guarded, tentative smile. Phaedra was glad to see that smile. She hoped the two of them would reconcile soon. She didn’t know how the troubles had started, but their strained relationship had been wearing at her nerves.
When Hunter and Narky returned the next day, they were driving a horse and cart piled with blankets and some meager food supplies. Hunter looked grim.
“The army of Ardis passed here two weeks ago,” he said. “They didn’t leave much for us to take. Even if this cart lets us go at the same speed they do, Psander and the others with her could easily be dead or starving by the time we get there.”
“In that case,” said Criton, “let’s go now. There’s no time to just stand here.”
They loaded Bandu and her baby onto the back of the cart, and Criton joined her there while Phaedra drove the horse. The other two walked silently alongside. Nobody but Criton and Bandu seemed to have anything to say, and they spoke only to each other. Well, to each other and to baby Goodweather.
The next two weeks were brutal. For one thing, Goodweather never slept except when the bumpy motion of the cart rocked her to sleep. The rest of the time she would wail, a
t night waking up everyone but Hunter. At these times, when Bandu or Criton was trying in vain to rock as soothingly as a horse-drawn cart, Phaedra began to resent that enviably deep sleeper who still lay on the ground beside them. Why couldn’t Hunter be awake and miserable just like the rest of them? A childish part of her wanted to wake him up.
Goodweather also soiled herself constantly. Without any swaddling clothes for her, the mess was uncontainable. Being wet inevitably woke the girl up – screaming, of course. Bandu handled the wetness better than she handled the screaming. Eventually the baby would nurse to sleep, at which point everyone could nap fitfully until the next time the baby awoke, an hour or two later.
And it was not only baby Goodweather who made their journey difficult. The closer they got to Silent Hall, the more oppressively Psander’s fate seemed to hang upon them. Whenever Phaedra thought ahead, she imagined the smoking ruins of Silent Hall splayed across the ground just like the stones that had once been Gateway. The image filled her with dread.
The Ardisian army’s path became heavier and more noticeable the farther they went, and its trash heaps and old campfires seemed to grow fresher by the day.
“We’re catching up,” Narky said. “That’s a good sign.”
“True,” said Hunter, but he did not seem pleased. When Phaedra asked him what worried him so, he pointed out the number of fire pits in the campsite.
“The army’s been growing as they go further south,” he said. “Look at all those fires! Bestillos is pressing half the countryside into his service. I’d say he has at least two, three thousand men.”
“Well,” said Narky, “I guess that explains why they’re moving slower than we are. How long do you think it’ll take us to get there at this point? A week?”
Hunter nodded. “That sounds about right. In three days we should leave the cart and start walking. We’ll want a couple of us to scout ahead too, so we don’t walk straight into the enemy.”
They did as he suggested, abandoning the cart on the road three days later to break across the countryside. During the day, Criton and Narky scouted ahead while Hunter stayed behind to protect Phaedra, Bandu and baby Goodweather. Since Bandu’s arms were occupied, and Hunter might have to draw his sword at any moment, it fell to Phaedra to carry the elder Goodweather’s acorn. Phaedra marveled at how heavy and dead the seed felt. One would not have thought that this inanimate thing had the power to tear a hole in the world.
They took watches at night, though they did not light a fire for fear of being seen. Baby Goodweather continued to interrupt, of course. On the second night, Narky complained that she was sure to alert the Ardismen. “Can’t you keep her quiet?” he asked.
“What do you think we’ve been trying to do?” Criton snapped at him. “Do you think I like to hear her cry?”
“Well, you’d better do something,” Narky retorted. “It’s only a matter of time before we get close enough for the Ardismen to hear us.”
“If they hear her cry,” Bandu answered him, “what they think? They think somewhere is young. They don’t know it’s us. We don’t have her before.”
“That’s true enough,” Phaedra agreed. “There’s no reason for them to think that a crying baby is a sign we’re close by. If we’re lucky, no one will investigate.”
“Right,” said Narky, “because nobody will wonder what a baby’s doing right outside a besieged fortress.”
“If you have any ideas for quieting her down,” said Criton, “we’re all ears. Otherwise, shut up.”
Phaedra winced. The lack of sleep had them all on edge. It was certainly having an influence on her: she found herself snapping at Hunter the very next afternoon, for the crime of having yawned. Her attitude obviously confused him, and why shouldn’t it? She was only angry at him because he slept so peacefully.
They passed through familiar woods, sleeping under the new moon, nervous in the knowledge that Silent Hall was only a couple of days away. That night even Hunter woke up to the sound of Goodweather’s voice.
“Is this normal?” he asked, infuriatingly. “She’s so much quieter in the daytime.”
“She sleeps when I walk,” Bandu told him. She was rocking from side to side as she spoke, patting the baby’s back all the while. Phaedra thought she was being remarkably patient with Hunter, all things considered.
“I see,” Hunter said, and then, “We should travel by night.”
Criton sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking at Hunter despairingly. “I don’t have the strength to go anywhere right now,” he said.
“We don’t have to,” Hunter told him. “We just need to stay awake now, and sleep tomorrow during the day. Then we can start traveling again tomorrow night.”
“What good will that do us?” asked Narky. “Besides making us fall behind by another day, that is?”
“At night,” said Hunter, “an army has no scouts. They just have watchmen who stand at the edges of the camp with torches. They’ll be much easier to spot at night than we are. We won’t be in any danger of walking into them by mistake.”
That decided it. They stayed up together that night, and took their watches during the day instead. The change was not easy. Only Goodweather seemed to adjust well to it. For Phaedra, stumbling through the night on her uneven legs, it was torture.
Yet for all that, it worked. When they came upon Magor’s army, it stood illuminated by a hundred fires, visible from miles away. The army lay all in a ring around the dark patch of land where Silent Hall stood invisible.
Phaedra heaved a sigh of relief. “Psander’s still alive,” she said.
“Right,” agreed Criton. “If she wasn’t, her wards would have fallen. We’d see the fortress from here.”
“Plus the army wouldn’t be sticking around,” Narky pointed out. “But how do we get in there?”
“I don’t know,” said Phaedra, “but we have to find a way. Otherwise, no place will be safe for us.”
“We’ll find a way,” Criton said. “We have to manage somehow, or the prophecy won’t come true. Since the prophecy’s about us, we can’t fail, can we?”
Phaedra sighed. “I thought I explained this earlier. Prophecies don’t always come true. A prophecy is just a message. Sometimes it’s not much more than a boast. Gods can promise Their servants success, but if They change Their minds or lose some conflict, none if it will come true. We’re as mortal as anyone else, no matter what a prophecy says.”
She did not have to see their faces clearly to know that they were crestfallen.
“Great,” said Narky. “Now I definitely feel ready to walk through the Ardisian army. Thanks, Phaedra.”
“We go now,” Bandu said. “I ask wind to keep us quiet, but I don’t know if it does, so you be quiet too.”
“Fine,” Narky sighed. “No use putting it off. If we die, we die.”
Without a word, Hunter unclasped his belt and began removing his armor. The scales fell to the ground with a clank. He stood there for a moment, his face blank, and then grimly refastened the belt.
Phaedra stared. Hunter had always worn that armor. It had been shocking when the elves took it from him, and even then Bandu and Criton had recognized its importance enough to bring it with them during their escape. The armor had been a part of him. He had worn it in the heat and in the cold, in the mountains and on the sea. Of course he could never have worn it through the enemy camp, but it almost hurt thinking how much this journey was costing him.
Goodweather was still sleeping when they arrived at the edge of the Ardismen’s camp. They stopped just beyond the reach of the firelight, trying in vain to prepare themselves for the danger that they were about to step into. The watchman to their left looked half asleep, blinking slowly underneath his raised torch. To the right, another soldier vigilantly scanned the darkness, firmly clutching his spear. The gap in between them was wide, but was it wide enough? The islanders looked silently at each other, their eyes questioning. Hunter gave a curt nod.
They
stole forward, keeping slightly to the left and walking carefully, toe-to-heel, to avoid making noise. Phaedra did her best to copy the others, but she was highly conscious of the way her legs stumped along more loudly than those of her friends.
The soldier swayed, then suddenly started. He had almost dropped his torch. The islanders stopped in their tracks, holding their breath. The watchman’s eyes darted first away from them, then straight ahead…
He sighed and looked down at his feet. “Idiot,” Phaedra heard him mumble to himself.
They crept on as silently as they could. A few more paces, and they were in the camp.
“Gods,” Narky muttered. “I think I almost pissed myself there.”
“Is that you, Kinar?” the guard called out to him. “Magor be thanked. I’m falling asleep here.”
They hurried away. In the dark of the camp, they could move more freely. They rushed past horses and tents, making their way as quickly as they could toward the second ring of torches. Here again they had to stop, ducking behind a tent.
The men who watched Silent Hall stood much closer together, and they did not sleep. The wizard’s castle was still invisible, but the soldiers nonetheless remained focused on the clearing where it stood. Phaedra could see all of them from here, those who stood nearby with their backs to the islanders and those who stood far distant, keeping watch from the other side of the unseen fortress.
“How do we get past them?” Phaedra whispered.
Nobody answered her. That shouldn’t have surprised her, she thought. It wasn’t possible. It simply wasn’t possible.
In the stillness, Goodweather began to stir.
They stood, helpless, silently pleading with the little one to fall back asleep. She did not. Her cry pierced the air and the watchmen spun around, searching the dark camp for the sound’s origin. The tent that hid the islanders from their view moved slightly, as whoever lay inside it woke up and started moving about. Hunter drew his sword.