Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar)

by Chris Anne Wolfe

  Jekin did. With a gruesome cry and two hands to the hilt, the sword arched high and down. It deflected easily with a singing clash. Again it sliced from the left, but Diana stepped quick and parried, sword in her left hand. Bewildered, the bigger man circled, uneasily keeping his sword to the front.

  “I want your apology, Tad,” Diana muttered tersely, her gaze riveted to the man’s black eyes. He was watching her sword tip.

  With a growl and yell the blade came down, literally bouncing in his grasp as Diana met force with force. A booted foot hooked out and his knee folded, the sword clattering to the floor ahead of his thudding body. Diana stomped on his chest, sending the air out with a whoosh and then wedged her boot between his chin and Adam’s apple. Her silver blade danced within inches of his eyes.

  “I asked for an apology,” Diana repeated coldly.

  “Aye Tad,” he wheezed, “you and your maid there… beg your patience.”

  The foot left his neck and the blade lifted. She strode around his gasping bulk, her sword still between them, to where his weapon lay. She stooped to retrieve it and passed it across the bar to Taks. As house rules in Colmar stood, the man would get it back an hour after Di’nay’s departure — no sooner.

  “Your apology is accepted,” Diana replied formally and sheathed her blade. “I stand assured it was our misunderstanding.”

  He nodded blankly, trying to roll to his feet, and a couple of friends moved to help him. The music began again, and there was a general scuffle as furniture was righted. There was no sign of the bearded fellow and his bulky companion now.

  It was time to go. Nattersu had told Diana enough and the men she sought were unlikely to try a brawl with her tonight. It was too uncommon a thing, tempting the Fates by challenging a swordsman already known as the evening’s victor.

  “We’ll be missing your temper,” Taks remarked blandly.

  “Now I’m not so bad,” Diana returned good-naturedly, dabbing the mead from her new jerkin with the rag he offered. “I haven’t been fighting in here since — since last harvest! A full tenmoon, Taks!”

  He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “We could do with a little more excitement.”

  She laughed and threw the rag on the counter.

  Nattersu grunted. “Your maid is gone. So much for your gallant efforts.” And he stumbled off bemoaning the lack of loyalty in womenfolk.

  “Pel always runs off when you fight,” Taks grumbled by way of a reassurance.

  Diana dug into her pocket for her money. “I once had her promise me so.”

  “Now that’s a strange sort of promise.”

  “Is it?” She jingled the money thoughtfully. “If I died, I’d not want her to see it.”

  He scoffed with a grunt.

  “See she gets this?” Diana handed him the money. As owner of the inn’s maids, he’d get half, but Diana knew the rest would make its way to Pel.

  He raised his eyebrows at the amount. “A pretty piece for spoiled service.”

  “A going off present,” Diana retorted and covered his closed fist with her hand. “May the Mother hold you, Tad Taks.”

  “Aye,” he nodded soberly, “and you, Southerner.”

  Diana grinned and released him. She claimed her cloak and at the tavern door paused to don it, glancing behind. The innkeeper had become engrossed with his duties and other patrons, the smoke curled thickly, and the hub-bub had risen to a steady din. There was not a soul who actually watched her leave and she knew it.

  † † †

  Chapter Fourteen

  Elana jerked upright, waking from her half-slumber, and jumped off the hall chest. Someone was coming. She squinted to see through the wavy glass panel that framed the door and made out the amarin of the approaching figure. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to slump in relief, then hurriedly she attacked the door’s bulky lock and latch.

  Diana was surprised to find her companion waiting in the threshold. “I had thought to find you in bed!” She ducked quickly to enter, but did not stoop low enough and the door frame snagged at her hood before allowing passage. Annoyed, she glanced over her shoulder. It had been centuries since the city had actually been attacked, but the small, easily defensible doorways had only grown more ornate, not taller, and they were generally too low for Diana’s liking.

  “It’s Maryl, Tad,” Elana answered in a hushed whisper, careful of the servants in the neighboring room as she helped Di’nay off with her cloak and sword.

  “Tell me.”

  “The mid-wife left shortly after you. Min Maryl would not let her take the pair to save herself.” Elana moistened her dry lips and continued, “She has not told Tad Bowgyn. He believes the woman will return at dawn when most needed.”

  “He knows she carries twins?”

  Elana shook her downcast head as one of the servants crossed the hall behind her and disappeared into the kitchen. Then she hurried on. “Maryl was adamant that he not know. Szori says she speaks of dying before denying him a child.”

  “Stupid little fool — ”

  “Please Tad!” Elana quieted her urgently, glancing over her shoulder with mute warning. “Szori was sworn to silence, but — she was scared.”

  “And by rights to be,” Diana sighed wearily. Now what to do? She straightened slightly, asking, “Can you get the mid-wife back?”

  “Certainly, but — ”

  “I’ll deal with Maryl and Bowgyn.”

  “But… Di’nay!” Elana’s hand clutched at her arm as the Amazon started down the hall. “It’s too late for… she’s been in labor so long. Her muscles — are fighting against her now. This mid-wife… I fear her skill is no longer enough.”

  Diana felt very cold. It couldn’t be that simple. “Have you seen Maryl?” she asked quietly. “Are you certain it is too late?”

  “No, I have not seen her.” Elana spoke bluntly. “That’s part of the problem.” Di’nay looked at her then and Elana’s voice softened. “Maryl demands solitude until the mid-wife’s mythical return — except for Szori. Tad Bowgyn will honor the request. He will not let me see her.”

  “Could you help if he did?”

  Elana hesitated, both confident and despairing. “I could save her, but the children…? She would learn of my Sight. I could keep the bondstone from her, I think.”

  “She has kept darker secrets,” Diana said abruptly. “What do you need?”

  “I have everything upstairs in my medicine purse, but I need to tend her alone.”

  Diana nodded steadily. “Get your purse. I’ll deal with Bowgyn.”

  † † †

  “In’erfering bitch — ” Maryl hissed at the ceiling. Her knuckles were white, her skin dark as she clenched at the loosened sheets. “She never could keep to her own business!”

  Elana smiled consolingly from her place at the firehearth. She stirred the warming brew in the small cauldron and sniffed the spooned contents. Not quite satisfied, she elected to leave it a few more minutes.

  “Where in Fates’ Cellars did she find you anyway?”

  Elana’s hand cautiously stole over her lifestone. Even after several hours, the intermittent refocus of Maryl’s amarin was unpredictable. The pain and strain in the woman’s body were steadily overwhelming all Elana’s awareness.

  “In the mountains,” Elana replied finally. The liquid threatened to bubble, and she quickly turned to pull it clear of the flames.

  “The Council’s people?” Maryl’s sweating face glistened in the firelight. “Does the fire have to be so hot? Wood could be scarce come winter…?”

  “It must be hot,” Elana reassured her softly, mixing her brew with fresh water. It must be hot, she thought — weary of it herself — or the woman’s muscles would tense without control and the infants would not be able to deal with the new environment. But it was excruciatingly hot in this room. The fire leapt the full height of the hearth, and both women were dark skinned and soaking wet in their kirtles.

  “I am right.” Maryl
restlessly rolled her head back to face the younger woman. “You’re Council’s people.”

  “Yes, I am.” Elana approached her bed and gently eased down beside her. “Now you must drink this.”

  “What is it?” she snapped suspiciously, but she was too weak to protest more. Elana’s arm slid beneath her, lifting her upright, and she found the touch seemed strangely comforting.

  “Sip it,” Elana commanded softly, gently bending the amarin around the woman.

  Breathing with difficulty, Maryl finished the small cup. It seemed to take forever even for such a little bit, and exhausted, she let her head sag into Elana’s shoulder. “What is it?”

  “Herb tea,” Elana allowed, and after setting aside the cup, she began gathering up the discarded pillows with her free hand.

  “Worse than her southways tea,” Maryl muttered. “What was Di’nay doing with the Council’s people?”

  Elana chuckled quietly and lowered Maryl back into the pillows so that she continued to sit almost upright. “Where did she find you?”

  “Tavern,” Maryl closed her eyes against the tired aching of her body. “A little place to Gronday an’ south… Ramains’ south, not Deserts south. She and that Southern friend of hers were downstairs in the commons. Mother, she couldn’t even speak the language. But the other could — Liest. You met Tad Liest?”

  “No.”

  “Nice… woman like Di’nay though… two of them get together every so often. She always treated me real nice. Never let on where they found me. Couple other southerners came through now and then, but she never looked forward to them. Always meant work and traveling off. But not Liest. That one would come an’ sometimes just visit.”

  “Sounds like a good friend.”

  “Wouldn’t know,” Maryl mumbled. That was too close to the truth. She tried to slide further down under the sheets.

  Gently, Elana stayed her movement. “You can’t have a baby flat on your back, Min. It will hurt too much.”

  “Mother — you even sound like her… wretched calm tone — never upset, not her!” Maybe that was why Maryl could believe in this young woman’s touch?

  “Why’re you with her?” Please, Maryl thought, talk about anything but this loathsome body right now.

  “I choose to be.” Elana wiped her own forehead with the hem of the ragged, borrowed kirtle she wore. She had tied her hair back, but wisps of it were damp and clinging about her face. She pushed them aside with a sigh.

  “Mother! You’d think the Council’s village wouldn’t have to be like all the rest… with the poor and the beatings.” Maryl’s mouth felt cottony and dry and the words came out sluggishly. “Is there any water?”

  “Only tea for you,” Elana returned firmly and diluted another cup for her.

  “I was like you once,” Maryl began again when she’d finished the drink. “Thought it was better than what was before.”

  “Wasn’t it?” Elana asked quietly, only half-listening as she pulled a small knife of black glass from her purse and slipped it into the coals.

  “She and Liest found me in a brawl, you know?” Maryl rattled on as her mind slipped back to the dampness and darkness of that night. “A prospective buyer was trying me on,” she quipped with leering sarcasm. “I was too old for Mit’et — sell for what bit a’profits could be made. Mit’et didn’t much care what was buying me.” She blinked back the tears. Funny, she had thought that done with. “Brute finally finished with me, but I decided — only thing in my life I’d ever thought I could decide — I decided it’d be better dying than seeing more moons with that sort of man. So I grabbed for his knife.”

  Elana watched her curiously from the hearth. So much made sense now.

  “Only the idiot thought I meant to hurt him and started hitting me around some more. Didn’t work out just like Mit’et wanted.” She laughed without much humor, remembering her skinny innkeeper’s outrage as his buyer threw her and the door across the common’s balcony. Di’nay and Liest had drawn swords and ended the fiasco in a matter of minutes. “You see, Tad Di’nay laid the monies out then. But Mit’et was no fool — not really such. He asked a better price and got it. He sent me off then and figured good rid’nce.”

  “And you?” Elana asked again. “Was it not better to be with Di’nay?”

  She wheezed a very tired sigh. “She taught me manners… taught me maybe how to think. Sometimes I still… who’d have dreamed it? A slave with ideas? Then maybe that’s how you stop being a slave — one way or the other….”

  “You’re not going to die,” Elana responded to her silent panic. She clasped the damp hand in her own two. “At least not tonight.”

  She clutched at Elana, gritting her teeth to stifle a cry of pain as a contraction hit. It passed in a moment, and then Elana gently loosened a hand to grab a towel from the water basin. Carefully she cooled Maryl’s browning face with the cloth.

  “I thought no more,” Maryl whispered limply, her eyes still shut. “You worked so hard to… to stop them?”

  “It’s time for them to start again,” Elana explained quietly. “The tea you drank will hurry you along now.”

  “It’s almost over?”

  “Yes. It’s almost over.” Elana dabbed her hot face tenderly and nodded, unable to voice how much worse it would be before… but it would soon be done. The first child had crowned — finally. After so many hours of enforced relaxation, of gentle massaging… of patient blue bonding through Maryl’s frightened gaze, the child had finally turned, and now the herb would prompt the rest.

  And prompt her it did. With a fury, almost doubled from the hypnotic denial, the contractions returned. Maryl clung to the calm voice so far away… following orders… following orders, that’s what she knew how to do… could do that well… had been raised doing it… following orders… but her age was battling with the Fates’ guise and she pushed when Elana called not to. She sobbed as she tried to control her body… push or wait? Which was what? Dear Mother help…!

  Elana locked her blue gaze into Maryl’s tear-blurred vision and joined her pain. Her fingers worked frantically, spreading the white salve around the small neck and straining vagina… easing the friction… stretching tissues… slowly inching the life-giving cord free from its strangling hold, and all the time clenching teeth with the straining woman… holding muscles still… praying with her silent screams… and the child slipped free… shoulders… an arm… hips… all toes accounted for. Dear Mother not so quickly… but the cord had knotted and another small foot appeared… or had both cords tangled? There was too little tissue — too little time to follow the rhythms of Maryl’s tiring body — to trace the flowing energies and unknot the mangle. Maryl’s screams silenced again under her Sight and again they strained for the strength to pause and turn it. Then breach it must be… salved fingers slid deep — grasping for the other foot… pushing… pulling… pray, Mother, for speed now… and finally… finally… finally done.

  Maryl sobbed hard and stilled in the pain. She sagged with the Sight’s touch gone, her eyes closing, but Elana hurried… racing against the mocking Fates. So long, so tight the cords had been wrapped… how long had the pulsing flow been restricted? How long completely halted for both of them? They stirred, barely striving… and concentrating, with a delicate gentleness that she had rarely ever called upon, she reached out to them with her blue touch — coaxing their hearts into that pulsing rhythm of life… their lungs to draw and breathe. Wishing desperately that she had more hands, but not daring to pause, she rubbed them with the warmed salve — touched them… kept reminding them that they were alive, and all the while she kept that fragile blue bond with them, urging them to live. Gradually each began to respond — a kick… a jerking arm — and she almost laughed with relief as they convulsively stretched and tightened their small limbs. They were far from crying, far from eating, she knew, but they were breathing.

  Tenderly she wrapped them snug and placed them in the bundled quilts on the floor near
er the fire. Her Blue Sight stretched to keep the sheltering calm over the small bodies — still attuned to their pulse and breath — still prompting, guiding their way to life as she turned her attention to Maryl. The contractions continued less violently, and gently she pulled at the last of the placenta. It came away cleanly, no infections — no evidence of hemorrhaging either, she noted gratefully. She thought the Mother had finally interceded to temper the games of the Fates. Hurriedly she washed the woman, fixing the dressings before changing the sheets.

  “Are they dead?” Maryl asked finally, only dimly aware of being settled into the clean linens. “Was it all for Fates’ Jest?”

  “You are alive. Tad Bowgyn will not think poorly of that.” Elana murmured reassuringly. She glanced at the children — her Sight again steadying their faltering rhythms.

  “But the children?”

  “They live — for the moment.” She did not hesitate in her honesty. “It’s too soon, Min. I do not know if they will survive to see dawn.”

  Absorbing the thought, Maryl nodded. Yet there was more hope to be had than the darkfall had promised. “May I hold them? I would know them each before they leave, if they must.”

  Elana smiled gently and squeezed her shoulder. She had seen mothers reject a struggling infant, fearing to look at it because the Fates might snatch it away. It would do these two well to hear their mother’s heart again. Gently she eased each within an open arm, propping pillows and quilts to keep them close despite Maryl’s weakness.

  “What are they, Ona?” Maryl asked with difficulty. Her throat constricted and her eyes blurred with tears from a different kind of pain now. “Do they ’ave all their limbs? All their fingers?… toes?”

  “Yes Min, each has everything. They are beautiful sons.”

  “Sons?” she sobbed in surprise and the pain deepened. She had not thought the Mother would give Bowgyn a son — not after her past. “Both of them?”

  “Yes.” Elana nodded and curled up on the foot of the bed, her back against the footboard. It saddened her faintly that both were sons, but then she realized she’d been thinking of Di’nay as their guardian — not Bowgyn. Vaguely she wondered how Sisters had babies, but it was a very distant thought, and her head lulled against the bedpost. Daybreak was still long in coming… the vigil was not yet over. Slowly, her attention narrowed as her eyes grew unfocused. She slipped into a hazy blue place where nothing existed but the bond between her and the children — and her struggle to teach them to breathe.