Lord Soth w-6

by Edo Van Belkom

  Isolde shook her head. "What am I to do here? Istvan is wasting his own valuable time trying to find things for me to do." "You can stay," Soth said, searching his mind for any reason at all for her to remain.

  "Perhaps you might be able to help Korinne with the child when it comes."

  "Oh, I doubt that very much. Lady Korinne wouldn't want me anywhere near her child."

  "She has no reason to dislike you."

  Perhaps not, but let us just say I have a feeling that I am not one of her favorite inhabitants of the keep."

  Soth looked aside and accepted the congratulations of a woman who passed by; then he turned back to Isolde.

  "I want you," he said, "to stay." He paused, considering his words. "As

  Korinne becomes heavy with child, I will be needing you more than ever."

  He looked at her for the longest time, letting his steel blue eyes pierce right through to her heart.

  "All right," she said at last, her voice edged with a sort of doomed reluctance. "I will stay."

  Soth's head arched back and he smiled as if Isolde had just said something tremendously funny. "Wonderful!" he said, shaking her hand. He raised the volume of his voice so those close-by could hear him. "Yes, indeed. I am a very happy man."

  Korinne had watched as Soth moved through the hall, greeting people and gladly shaking hands. He seemed happier than she'd ever seen him before, and she was satisfied that she had made him that way.

  But then Soth had turned away from Caradoc and found himself face-to-face with the elf-maid Isolde.

  The sight had suddenly made Korinne feel sick to her stomach.

  She had watched motionless and silent as her husband and the elf-maid talked to one another on the other side of the hall. There was nothing out of the ordinary in their mannerisms, nothing that might suggest they were anything more than friends. Of course, there was a bond between them. He had saved her life, after all.

  Korinne had felt a little better when she saw the elf maid idly tuning her harp and her husband intently greeting passersby in the middle of their little chat. When they were done, Soth had laughed politely at some joke the elf had made and they had parted as simply as any two? friends would part.

  There had been nothing to it.

  Then why, even now as Soth happily moved about the room to chat with others, did this feeling of sickness continue to gnaw at her belly?

  Chapter 18

  The months passed like days for some, like years for others.

  For those inside the keep, the months flew by as countless hours were spent preparing the nursery, making clothes or guessing what name the new Soth might be blessed with.

  But for Lady Korinne the winter moved at a crawl. While some of her early months were spent performing such motherly duties as decorating the nursery, much of her time was spent resting in bed under the almost constant supervision of the healer, Istvan. His regular examinations always concluded with the same proclamation

  "Everything between mother and child is as well as could be expected."

  But no matter how many times Korinne heard those words, they did little to ease the pain she felt inside. The child had become more than a simple burden upon her and at times she wondered why she had never heard other pregnant women complain of bouts of such constant, throbbing pain.

  And as the months wore on, it was a surprise to no one that an ever-increasing amount of Korinne's time was spent at rest. Throughout the night and much of the day she'd lie in bed, either asleep or in a half-awake sort of daze in which she was almost literally blinded by the pain.

  As a result, the winter days and nights seemed to be at a standstill for

  Lord Soth, who in aching anticipation of the birth of his child, found he could spend little time with his wife. When she was up and about she tried to occupy herself with some pleasant detail concerning the child-to be. Or, if she were free, he would be occupied by some tedious, but nevertheless important, matter of state. When she slept, the healer had ordered that she not be disturbed, and when she was lying in her bed neither awake nor asleep, she was too affected by her pain to be much of a companion, or even very receptive to Soth's awkward efforts at comforting her.

  And so, on one of the coldest days of Deepkolt, Soth looked elsewhere in the keep for companionship. Weeks earlier, he had instructed the healer to provide Isolde with her own private quarters. The healer had done so gladly, putting the elf-maid in a room at the south end of the keep that had not one but two entrances, one leading in from the main hallway, and another leading in from a seldom used storage room. Soth thanked the healer by promising to acquire more blue hyssop for him on his next trip to Palanthas, and never spoke of the matter again.

  And now, Soth walked through the cold, damp storage room placing his hand against the inside of the moss covered south wall to guide his way.

  When he came up against another wall, he patted his hands against it until he felt the rough grain of several wooden planks butted up against one another. Certain he'd found the door, he rapped his knuckles against the wood.

  "Who is it?" came the sweet voice from inside.

  "It is I," he said. "Lord Soth."

  Seconds later, the door was being opened.

  The months continued to pass.

  Brookgreen… Yurthgreen… Fleurgreen… At last spring was in the air.

  New buds appeared on the branches.

  Flowers began to bloom.

  And Korinne's child was ready to come into the world.

  Soth lay on the bed, his muscular naked body covered with a thin layer of sweat. At his side, the lithe form of Isolde, similarly damp with sweat, nestled into place within his arms. When she'd found a comfortable position she breathed out a deep sigh of satisfaction, then said, "The keep will soon have another mouth to feed."

  Soth's smile was brief. Although he did not like to be reminded of his wife and unborn child when he was with Isolde, he'd never told the elf-maid not to mention Korinne, because the times she did were rare.

  "Yes," he said matter-of-factly. "Korinne is due to birth the child any day now."

  Isolde looked at Soth with a coy sort of grin.

  Soth noticed the look on the elf-maid's face. "What is it?" he asked.

  "I'm not talking about Lady Korinne."

  Soth was silent for a moment. "If not Korinne, who then?"

  "Me," said Isolde. "I'm talking about me."

  Soth's mouth opened, but he found himself unable to speak. He sat up in the bed and looked at the elf-maid grinning up at him like a kender who'd just borrowed a large cluster of priceless jewels.

  "You mean…"

  Isolde nodded.

  At first, Soth was overjoyed, but slowly found himself becoming troubled by the news. All he could think of was the problems a bastard child would cause for him within the keep. The secrecy and lies, the problems his offspring — both of them-would have when they would inevitably fight one another for the legacy of the Soth name. He thought of his own half-brother and half-sister, both killed due to his orders to ensure his own succession as sole heir to the Soth name and to the throne of Knightlund.

  In a single horrible moment, Soth realized that although he had vowed to distance himself from his father he had actually become his father, producing a bastard child just as his father had done so many years ago-a half-elven child at that.

  The words of his father echoed cruelly in his ears.

  "Don't be so quick to condemn me, my son," Aynkell Soth had said. "You are of my flesh and of my blood. You always will be. There's too much of me in you for you to be so critical of my life."

  Soth shivered at the recollection. Then he looked at Isolde, saw the joy in her eyes, and knew he couldn't bring himself to share with her the sense of dread that was clawing at his heart. "That's wonderful news," he stammered.

  "It doesn't sound as if-"

  Isolde's words were cut short by a knock upon the door that led out into the main hallway.

 
"Who is it?" asked Isolde, her voice calm.

  "Beg your pardon, but is… milord with you?"

  Isolde looked at Soth, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and fear.

  "Who dares to call for me here?" bellowed Lord Soth, letting the person outside know that he didn't look favorably upon such a blatant invasion of his privacy.

  "It's Caradoc, milord."

  Soth rose from the bed and moved toward the door.

  "What is it?" he asked, the irritation gone from his voice.

  "It's your wife, milord," said Caradoc. "She's birthing the child and is calling for you."

  "I will be there at once."

  He turned to face Isolde, unable to say anything.

  Fortunately, he didn't have to. "Go," said Isolde. "Your wife needs you."

  Soth dressed hurriedly and as he rushed down the hallway found that he could hear the agonizing screams of Lady Korinne even before he reached the healer's chambers.

  She was obviously in pain, a great deal of pain.

  It is said that the pain of childbirth is the most easily forgotten, but

  Soth found this hard to believe.

  When he reached the healer's quarters he knocked on the door even though, in this situation, he wasn't required to do so. After waiting a few moments, Soth realized no one had heard his knock over the loud cries of Lady Korinne. He opened the door and suddenly heard Korinne's screams at full volume.

  At first Soth winced at the sound. Although he'd heard men in battle cry out in agony, he'd never heard such screams as he was hearing now.

  He hurried over to Korinne's side. When she saw him, she relaxed somewhat and her wails lessened. He took her hand and held it as she panted to catch her breath.

  She was drenched in sweat, her hair pasted down onto her forehead and across her face. Her lips were dry and cracked and her chest rose and fell at a frantic pace, as if she'd just completed a nonstop run from

  Palanthas.

  "Loren," she said when she was able. "I've been calling for you. Where have you been?"

  Soth found it hard to say anything. He saw the trusting look in her eyes, the relief on her face upon his arrival and felt sick that he'd betrayed her. "I was," he said. The next few words seemed to get stuck in his throat for a moment. "I was… reprimanding one of the knights."

  "Really," she said, seemingly happy to have her mind diverted by chatter. "Who was it? What did he do wrong?"

  "That's not important now," said Soth. "What's important is how you are feeling."

  "Can't you see, I'm doing wonderfully-" A sudden stab of pain sliced through Korinne's body and she arched her back. She let out a sharp cry, then lay back on the bed, her eyes closed and at rest.

  Soth brushed a hand over Korinne's face and looked over at the healer.

  Istvan had been busy off in the corner preparing herb mixtures while

  Soth and Korinne had spoken. Now he moved to Korinne's side, wiping her face with a damp cloth.

  "What is happening?" asked Soth.

  Istvan shook his head. "Everything appears to be progressing normally. I have delivered twenty-seven children in my time and all is as it should be. The pain she is feeling confounds me."

  "Can't you prepare something to lessen it?"

  "I've tried," Istvan answered with a shrug. "But nothing seems to be working." He looked Korinne over as he patted the damp cloth across her forehead. "Your presence seems to have calmed her. This is the first she's been able to rest for hours."

  "Then I will stay until the child is born."

  "Thank you," said Istvan. "It might help."

  Soth looked at Istvan, wondering about the healer's choice of the word might. Something told Soth that the healer, as was his custom, knew more than he was letting on.

  "I can see the head!" cried the healer, sweat dripping down off his nose. He'd wanted to call in an assistant hours ago, but Soth had forbidden it, not wanting any more people than were necessary to see Lady Korinne in such a compromised state.

  Soth was out in the hall just on the other side of the door. He had been in the room for the longest time, but his constant concern over

  Korinne's agonized shrieks had prompted the healer to ask Soth to leave the room, allowing him to do his work without the interference and misguided concerns of an impassioned observer.

  "You must push," said Istvan. "Push harder!"

  "I can't," cried Korinne, at the point of exhaustion.

  Istvan believed her. He had never in his years seen such a lengthy and painful birth. Everything about the delivery of this child was slow and complicated when in truth there were absolutely no signs warranting complications, or pain for that matter. But here was Korinne, in labor half the day.

  "You must try," Istvan said, his voice showing far more compassion than normal. Usually he was very hard on women during birth, forcing them to work harder in order to end their ordeal more quickly. But Korinne had already suffered too much, for too long.

  Korinne cut short a moan and pushed.

  The child's head moved slightly, no more than the width of several hairs. "Yes, that's it! Very good! Again!"

  "It moved?" exclaimed Korinne, her voice breathy and filled with relief.

  "Yes, it's coming. Now, push again."

  She grimaced and tightened her body, tensing her stomach muscles and trying to squeeze the child through the far-too-small birth canal.

  "I see an ear!" cried Istvan. "Keep going!"

  Korinne was almost laughing now. She probably felt the child beginning to move a little more each time. After so many hours, she was happy to see it finally out of her body.

  She closed her eyes, pressed her lips together and grabbed at the wooden rails on either side of the bed.

  Then she groaned sharply, and pushed.

  Her fingernails cut deeply into the hard, polished wood of the rails.

  The child's entire head appeared, followed quickly by its shoulders, neck.

  And then… The rest of its body slid out into the world, almost in a gush. Istvan caught the child, and gasped.

  He held the child in his hands and for the longest time his mouth moved, but he was unable to speak.

  Finally, he said in a whisper, "Mishakal have mercy."

  Outside the room, Soth had been waiting for what seemed like hours. The screams of his wife had pained him and now that they had stopped, he feared the worst.

  But as he continued to wait in silence, not knowing what had happened was far worse than hearing the constant cries of pain. At last he rose up from where he sat and opened the door to the healer's chambers.

  The room seemed even quieter than the hall had been.

  Korinne was lying on the bed, her chest rising and falling in a deep and regular rhythm. Istvan sat at his desk with his head in his hands, no doubt exhausted by what had been a lengthy birth.

  Soth looked around for the child, but did not see it.

  When Soth closed the door behind him, Istvan jumped.

  The healer looked over at Soth, his face pale and his eyes wide in something very much like fear. As Soth moved closer, he noticed the old man looking even more aged and haggard than he remembered.

  "Is she all right?" asked Soth in a whisper.

  Istvan nodded. "Lady Korinne is resting. She will recover."

  Soth nodded. "And what of the child?"

  "It is resting as well, in the bassinet over there." He pointed to a small cradle made of dark wood, a simple but well constructed piece

  Istvan had chosen from the numerous examples Soth and Korinne had received as wedding gifts.

  Soth looked at Istvan for several long seconds.

  Something wasn't right. If the child was doing well, Istvan would be overjoyed, and Korinne would be holding the child to her breast even in her current state of exhaustion.

  And what had Istvan said? It was resting, he'd said. Not he or she, but it.

  "Can I see…" Soth began.

  "Perhaps it might be best if-"


  "I said, can I see my child?" Soth asked, louder this time.

  Korinne stirred. "Is that you, Loren?" she asked.

  Istvan knew better than to defy Soth twice. "Of course."

  He got up from where he sat and walked over to the bassinet. Then he reached into the cradle and took out the bundled child, wrapped tightly in a scarlet blanket. He handed the bundle to Soth.

  Soth found it awkward to hold the bundle properly, but he eventually managed to get a firm but gentle grasp. He hadn't held that many babies in his lifetime, but this child felt different. Its body seemed hard and bony.

  Istvan turned away, taking up a position near Korinne.

  Soth pulled aside the blanket and looked upon… An abomination.

  The child's eyes were open wide, shining black and glassy in the dim light from the candles. There were hard nubs of bones along the crown of its head, almost as if it were the offspring of a dragon.

  Soth swallowed, his body shuddering in shock. He pulled the blanket further aside and saw… That the child's two arms were on the right side of its body, a leg where the other arm should be. And the second leg was positioned in the center of the lower portion of the trunk, looking much like a tail.

  Soth felt his knees go weak and his heart beginning to creep up into his throat.

  This was no child of his.

  This was the spawn of Evil, the offspring of one of the dark and evil gods.

  Soth took another glance at the child and grimaced.

  It wasn't even a child.

  It was a monster.

  And even if there wasn't a dark god at work here, then it could have easily been the work of some other hideous:: beast; a centaur perhaps, or a satyr What else could have) caused such gross deformity of the human body?

  The thought of Korinne with another man-with another creature-sent anger flaring through Soth's body.

  He wrapped the thing back in the blanket and held it at arm's length.

  "Have you seen him?" asked Korinne, her voice soft yet proud. "Is he beautiful?"