Shawna Thomas

by Journey of Dominion

  Jarin extended his hand. “Come on, Lily, we’ll go feed the baka together.”

  The child darted around her mother and grabbed her father’s hand.

  Ilythra entered the neat house behind Rina.

  “It’s not that bad, you know. Just a little blood. Nothing like my female time, you know?”

  She watched Rina’s eyes as she spoke. The woman was scared. “I understand you’re uncomfortable. But I’m a healer.”

  “What are you going to need to do?”

  “I need to find out where the bleeding is coming from. I saw a well outside. I’ll go wash up and you can take off your underthings and cover up with a blanket. I’ll be back.”

  Rina nodded.

  Ilythra retrieved some soapwort from her pack and walked outside toward a wooden plank on the ground. She pulled up a bucket of water and scrubbed her hands and arms until they were pink. In the distance, she saw Lily and her father carrying armloads of grasses toward a small enclosure housing a few baka. Ilythra returned to the house to find Rina waiting on the side of the bed, a blanket over her lap.

  “How long have you been bleeding?”

  “A moon or so,” Rina said as she scooted back and lay down.

  Ilythra gently probed the woman’s rounded stomach. It was soft. “When do you expect the baby?”

  “Two moons.”

  Ilythra nodded. “Any pain, cramping?”

  “No. None.”

  “Has the baby been moving?”

  “Not as much. I mean, I know I felt it this morning.”

  “I’m going to take a look at the bleeding now, okay? I won’t touch you.”

  The woman nodded.

  The blood was bright red. Ilythra felt her heart sink. She replaced the blanket. “Have you been tired lately?”

  “Well, yes. I was tired with Lily, too.”

  “But not this tired?”

  “I didn’t have Lily to take care of then.”

  She’s making too many excuses. “I’m going to touch your neck.” Ilythra felt the rapid beat of Rina’s heart. Her skin was pale and slightly sallow. Damn.

  “What is it?” A note of terror entered Rina’s voice.

  “Part of the sac that holds the baby has come loose and is causing your bleeding. We don’t want it to come any looser. You need to stay in bed.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until the baby’s born.”

  A look of confusion entered Rina’s eyes. “But harvest is just around the corner, and I need to finish with the beans.” She waved in the direction of the garden.

  Ilythra shook her head. “Rina, you, the baby or both of you could die unless you rest.”

  Panic rounded her eyes. “But you don’t understand.”

  “I do.” She placed a hand on Rina’s shoulder. “Aren’t there women who could hel—”

  “They’re busy with their own gardens and families.”

  Ilythra rose. “My horse is lame, so I won’t be going anywhere. I’ll check on you every day and I’ll help as much as I can, but I need you to promise to stay in bed. For the baby.”

  Rina nodded, a misting of tears softening her blue eyes.

  “I’m going to talk to your husband now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Ilythra walked out into the twilight. The barn glowed with the soothing light of a lantern. If she stayed and delivered the baby, she’d be delayed at least a moon. She’d didn’t want to wait. A wave of guilt chased the thought.

  Since Jartas, she’d been aware of a particular melody on the winds of Teann, slowly growing stronger as she journeyed east. Even now it was as palpable as the cool night air on her skin. Crioch’s song. She ached to hear it more clearly.

  She’d done what the farmer had asked. No one would blame her if she left. Ilythra stared into the horizon. That wasn’t true; she would. She was a healer. No matter how badly she wanted to get to Greton and find Bredych, she couldn’t leave Rina and her unborn child now.

  * * *

  “That’s a good girl.” Ilythra leaned down and patted Tashi’s neck.

  “No sign of a limp at all,” Aldun called from the doorway of the barn.

  Ilythra led Tashi at a trot around the fenced enclosure. She dismounted and handed him Tashi’s reins. “None.”

  “I’d still take it easy on her for a while. No more riding double.”

  “No need.” Ilythra glanced west, attempting to ignore the sudden emotion clogging her throat.

  “You goin’ to check on Jarin’s wife?”

  “Yes. I’ll walk.” Rina’s bleeding hadn’t stopped, but it had slowed a little. In the last five days, Ilythra had visited Rina three times. Besides keeping her company or playing with little Lily, there wasn’t much she could do. Some of the women from neighboring farms had come to help. Half of the garden had been harvested and preserved.

  Ilythra glanced again to the west and then held her hand up to shield her eyes from the sinking sun. A figure was running toward them. It was Jarin. He called to her before she could clearly hear his words.

  Her heart sank. “I’m going to get my bag,” Ilythra said.

  When she returned, Adlun held Jarin’s shoulders while the man attempted to catch his breath.

  “It’s something with his wife.” Adlun didn’t turn his attention away from Jarin, who was trying to catch his breath.

  No! Not the baby. Ilythra glanced toward Tashi. She couldn’t risk riding her double again and she needed information from Jarin. She headed toward Rina’s house at a steady jog. Before too long, a heavy step sounded behind her. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I was in the fields. When I came back, she wasn’t in the house, and Lily was crying. I found Rina in the garden.” A sob cut off the sentence. “There was so much blood.”

  Ilythra sped to a slow run. “In the name of the Mother, what was she doing in the garden?” Frustration fueled her step.

  “I don’t know. I mean, she said something about feeling so much better this morning, but I never thought...” His words came out in huffs.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Ilythra said. It was an automatic reply. She was already reviewing possible herbs to stop the bleeding. The house appeared in the distance. She had witch hazel bark tincture and had seen some shepherd’s purse growing near the barn.

  Jarin ran ahead, threw open the door and picked up Lily. He made low, comforting noises to the small girl as they approached the bed.

  Rina lay under a blanket; her skin was pale and coated with a film of sweat. As Ilythra approached, her eyes fluttered open. “It hurts.”

  Ilythra grasped her hand. “I know.” She glanced up at Jarin then turned her gaze to the child he held. Jarin nodded and stroked Lily’s hair. “Come on, let’s go see if we can find any flowers in the meadow. Okay?”

  Ilythra lifted the blanket after she heard the door shut. A puddle of blood lay under Rina—the sheets had soaked their limit.

  “The baby?”

  Ilythra pressed on Rina’s stomach. The woman was having a contraction. She blinked back tears. She couldn’t show emotion now. Rina would panic. “I’m going to give you something to drink.”

  Rina nodded then stifled a scream.

  Ilythra rushed back to Rina’s side then checked her cervix. The baby had crowned. How long had she lain in the garden? A pitcher of water sat on a small table nearby. Ilythra wet a cloth and lay it over Rina’s forehead. “You’re doing fine.” Ilythra added a few drops of tincture to a cup of water. “Drink this.” She held the cup while Rina drank the liquid.

  Ilythra rolled up her sleeves, dunked her hands in the pitcher, quickly scrubbed then rinsed with the rest of the water. She took a deep breath.

  * * *

  “Jarin?” Ilythra e
xamined the blank stare, wondering if he heard anything she said.

  The man turned his attention from the house to her. “Yes.”

  Defeat weight down her limbs. She considered dropping to the ground and falling asleep where she stood. “I’m sorry.” Her voice caught. She tried again. “There wasn’t anything I could do.”

  She again offered the cloth-wrapped bundle. So very small. The infant had been born too early. It never took its first breath. She wanted to rage, to cry. It seemed so unfair. She stared down at the cloth-covered bundle. In her mind she still saw the perfectly formed but almost translucent fingers, heard Rina’s sobs.

  “My wife. Will she...will she live?”

  “She’s going to be weak for a long time. If you have family anywhere, now is the time to get word to them. Perhaps they could send a younger girl to stay for a while. But yes, I think she’ll live.”

  Jarin tore his gaze away from the house to the bundle. He accepted it, holding it with care, as though it was a live baby. “Girl or a boy?”

  Tears welled behind her eyes. “A boy,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “Lily is asleep on the hay in the barn.”

  “Why don’t you go and check on Rina. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

  Jarin nodded and headed toward the house, still cradling the baby. She thought to stop him, but Rina was sedated and she knew Jarin wouldn’t wake her. Ilythra rubbed her hand over her eyes. If Rina rested and took the herbs Ilythra left, in a few moons, she would be fine. But it had been close.

  Ilythra glanced at the moon riding over the land as she walked toward the barn. It would be morning soon. At first light, she’d head east. There was nothing more she could do here.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A genial hum replaced the tavern’s empty silence as regulars drifted in. One or two paused to stomp caked boots before crossing the heavy doors, a small deference to Voras, the innkeeper. The rest trudged in clay and manure from the fields.

  Voras nodded to the locals as they settled into their favorite haunts around the room, pausing his careful polish of the counter to fill mugs with ale—watered down behind the tall counter in proportion to his like or dislike of the particular patron. It was a dreadful practice, surely, but why waste good ale on a bad sort?

  A movement on the periphery of his vision startled him. He glanced in the one corner of the room that held on to darkness with a new lover’s passion. The light from the fire and from the one high window never pierced its gloom. He hadn’t forgotten the man was there but had driven him from his mind, like a child’s fear of the dark. Voras squinted, waiting for another ripple in the gloom. The shadows remained immobile, and the barkeep let out a shaky breath.

  It was his corner, all right. The dark man’s. Voras knew who he was of course, but to think, let alone voice his name, was an intimacy he didn’t want to share.

  The man had come in just before the regulars and, as always, sat in his corner to nurse a single cup of ale and watch. It was the watching that disturbed Voras the most. It seemed to him the dark man saw more than anyone had a right to. With the unrest in the village, it was a brave thing for a noble to sit among the locals, but somehow bravery seemed far from it. Besides a furtive glance now and then, none of the villagers paid the man any mind. They’re afraid of him, like I am. Voras attacked the counter with vigor, ignoring the thought.

  A small boy paused at the door, hesitated, then ran toward the dark corner. The urchin bowed awkwardly then rose. “Lord Bredych, the king requests your presence.”

  The darkness in the corner remained immobile as the hum of conversation faltered, broke, then continued in a false bravado. The boy stood, fidgeting, as though unsure his task was complete. He reached with one ragged sleeve to wipe the snot now running out of his nose from the warmth of the fire. Finally, the shadows rippled and a pale hand reached for the cup, the froth of a ruffled cuff gleaming in a ray of light from the fire. After he finished the ale, Lord Bredych stood, tossed a coin on the table, walked through the tavern as though he were alone and stepped out into the night.

  After the door shut behind him, the room seemed to release its breath.

  * * *

  The path dipped sharply, disappearing from view in a swirling fog that concealed all but the treetops from view. Somewhere, in that gray fickle mass, lay the kingdom of Greton, and in the kingdom of Greton lived Bredych: a stone keeper.

  A moment of apprehension gripped Ilythra so hard she froze. The idea of stepping into the cloud-blanketed valley felt, for just a moment, like walking into a death shroud. She shuddered. It had taken her two moons to reach the valley after leaving Mohan at Jartas. But it seemed as though she’d prepared her whole life to meet another stone keeper. Why am I hesitating now?

  Because he’s dangerous. Anger—sharp and lethal—filled her chest. So am I. She was tired of fighting shadows, chasing ghosts. Here was the man who’d taken her mentor, killed those who befriended her, haunted her dreams and left her on edge. She’d settle this one way or another.

  The valley itself was beautiful, if ordinary, very much like countless valleys spread across the land. But then, what did she expect? A sign welcoming her to the home of Crioch? The pass had been easy to traverse; however, even from its heights, the mountains to the east and south looked formidable. To the north, the distant mountains were shrouded in clouds. As she watched, the clouds shifted and a snowcapped peak appeared against a blue sky so pale it almost appeared as white as the mountaintop. According to the map, the castle at Greton should be directly east of her, nestled against the eastern mountains.

  The sun was a golden orb diffused by the low clouds but gaining strength. Tashi fidgeted beneath her.

  “Are you anxious to get on with it?” Her voice sounded alien in the netherworld. Ilythra glanced behind her at the rolling plains, where the fog had retreated to eddy along the gullies. She turned back around and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth to coax Tashi down the trail.

  * * *

  Mohan walked into camp, the long trip disappearing into hazy memory. He saw the children rush forward then stop, their eyes confused, but he didn’t hear their truncated cries of welcome or the footsteps. He led the horse, feeling every bit of the weight it pulled. He was bringing his brother home, albeit not in the manner he hoped. Dimly he heard murmuring and footsteps over the creak of the wagon.

  The first wail sliced at his heart. The second, third and the rest sounded far away as though a chorus of birds sang a harsh tune in a distant meadow. A strong hand grabbed the horse’s reins. He looked up to see his cousin, Aterin, walking next to him, soon followed by all the men of the troupe. Someone had unharnessed the horse from the wagon and together, they pulled Tarak’s shrouded body to where Taliba and the women waited.

  With numb wonder, he saw the women had already set up the pyre that would take his brother into the next life. How they’d managed that without a break in the wailing, he didn’t know. The women, heads covered and faces shrouded as though hiding from death, stood before them and parted to let the wagon through. Taliba held up a hand, and silence descended. Despite himself, he felt a certain pride. They would not put off death; they would face it head-on, acknowledge it as part of life. It was their way. It was the Benai way. It was his way.

  Taliba stepped forward and placed a hand on Mohan’s arm. She muttered something he didn’t hear then spoke so her voice carried. “We are children of the wind, though our roots are ancient. We are children of the skies, though we wander the land. We are a people as delicate and short-lived as the first flower of thaw, but we are as eternal as memory. Our brother goes before us to scout the journey we all must take. He will keep the campfire lit so we can find our way.”

  She motioned to two men, who gently picked up Tarak’s body and lay it on the pyre. A moment later a ribbon of bright yellow crept
over the grasses and licked up the wooden post toward his brother. A sob built in his chest and remained, not offering him release from the pressure.

  He felt a strong hand on his arm and looked down in muted surprise to see Taliba. She led him to a wagon, murmuring words he couldn’t hear, and undressed him like she had when he was a little boy. Something moist touched his lips and out of reflex, he drank. His head grew heavy, and he sunk into bed.

  “Close your eyes, Mohan.”

  He wanted to tell her he couldn’t. Because when he closed his eyes, he saw Tarak—bloodied, mutilated—and with the image came fresh horror as though he were seeing it for the first time. But his eyes closed. Even they obeyed the wise woman. And in the darkness behind his eyelids, he saw a small yellow flame ripple and grow until it broke away from the earth and fluttered into the heavens, free.

  * * *

  Ilythra followed a twisting road, hemmed by ethereal shapes materializing through the dense fog that seemed to belong in this part of the land. Branches twined above the road, forming a dim tunnel through the forest. Each morning, she woke to dripping leaves and dank air. By midday the mists cleared, only to return with the moon. It made finding dry brush difficult, and her tunic seemed to always be damp.

  She’d counted twenty days and four villages since she entered the valley, each village more dismal and poorer than the last. She was beginning to wonder what kind of castle she would find, if even a castle at all. It could be a large manor with a wooden enclosure for defense.

  Has Mohan reached his troupe yet? She closed her eyes against the thought. He would have. Perhaps he was easing his grief by teaching the next generation the ways of the Benai. Does he think of me? She opened her eyes. She didn’t have time for such thoughts.

  Slowly, the fog thinned and the road opened up. Blue sky peeked through the branches and sunlight dappled the path with color, though twilight still gripped the depth of the forest, relieved only by the brilliance of the occasional tree donning the colors of autumn.

  She was drawing nearer.

  After a curve in the trail, the trees abruptly cleared. She had crested a rise. Across a shallow basin, on top of a hill, stood a formidable castle. From the height she could see concentric walls. The first enclosed patches of green and a few houses, the second hugging the castle. She eyed the outside wall, following its progression and trying to remember what she knew about castles. Not much. A small bridge crossed a ribbon of water on the near side of the outer wall. As far as she could see, it was the only entrance unless there was another behind the castle and outside of her view. The curtain wall sported several guard towers and a large building at the arched entry that she assumed was a gatehouse of some kind. The castle was magnificent, five-sided with five round crenellated drum towers, three along the front and two at the back. Easily the biggest building she’d ever seen. Crimson pennants flew from turrets, flapping in the breeze. A lake shimmered between the deep green of the forest and the castle. The Har Neider Mountains rose like craggy backdrop against the deep blue sky.