Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (73 page)

But was this not her family though? She’d lived with them for months—had bonded with Nova like a brother and taken to his wife like a sister—yet all she could think of was of the man she’d left behind. Of his tall yet awkward posture, of his beautiful yet cloudy eyes, of the way she could fit perfectly within his thin frame on nights like these and of all his peculiarities
—he could bake bread and make machines, sew fabric and raise monuments, and to some that made him somewhat of a dichotomy, a man whom appeared in one aspect one thing and in another an other. But was that not the point though—for people to be different, passionate, insecure about gratification and the glory of others? Was that not what made life worth living?

Or is that only me?

Rising, she gathered the skin around herself and made her way to the window. Though her height was often disregarded, she was able to see out this window just fine, and from it could watch the world as it turned.

Though the sound of footsteps echoed toward her, she didn’t bother to turn.

“Can’t sleep?” Ketrak asked.

Carmen shook her head. “No,” she said. “I can’t.”

“Is everything all right?”

“I don’t think anything is right if you want me to tell you the truth,” she replied
. “The war has torn this country apart, men have died, people lost homes. Katarina doesn’t even have a bed to sleep on and me…” She bowed her head. “I haven’t seen my husband in months.”

Ketrak set a hand on her shoulder. “You are far stronger than you believe yourself to be.”

“I sometimes wonder if it’s just something I’m pretending to have instead of actually having it.”

“How do you mean?”

“You know how when someone’s dying that you and someone else cares about? The other one’s completely broken down and can’t control themselves any longer and then there’s something… I don’t know what it is… something that makes you feel like you
have
to be strong, otherwise you’re not important? The man has to be strong so the woman can cry. Your brother who’s lost so much can’t be expected to stand strong because he’s so heartbroken? And me… the warrior? What am I supposed to be but strong?”

“You’re allowed to have weakness, Carmen.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not.”

Ketrak said nothing. Instead, he turned and started for his bedroom.

Carmen didn’t blame him, nor did she fault his actions.

This was her war to fi
ght.

The fire was fully stoked when she woke the next morning. Stooped before and prodding it with a poker, Nova turned his head to look at her and asked, “Sleep well?”

As well as I could of,
she thought, but could only nod.

She drew the deerskin around her as the dog nudged into her side and tried to allow temptation to give in. Sleep seemed all the more necessary after she’d had such a heart-scarred night, but with the dog progressively nudging his way into her side, it was hard to even concentrate.

“I think he wants under the covers,” Nova offered.

Carmen lifted the blanket. Nova’s point was immediately proven when the dog scooted all the way against her.

“He’s got fur,” she mumbled, but didn’t bother to argue as she set the skin over him. “He shouldn’t be cold.”

The dog arfed and rolled onto his side.

“Do you need help with anything?” Carmen asked, following Nova’s form as he rose and started toward the window. “Breakfast? Firewood? Food run?”

“No. Don’t worry about it. It’s not like it would do any good,” Nova sighed. “I have to make a run into town anyway. There’s no point in both of us going.”

“Is everything all right?” Warily, she pushed herself into a sitting position and watched as her friend’s gaze fell from the window to the floor. Normally, she wouldn’t have been too worried about it, as his distraction could have been everything—from rats, to thoughts, to even a bug running across the planks. Nova was the kind of man reserved in times of unease, so normally his expression wouldn’t bother her. This time, though, his face had taken on a twisted expression, as if something had just thrust a hand into the womb of life in an attempt to excise his greatest hope.

Oh God,
she thought.

“Is she,” Carmen started.

“The contractions are coming,” Nova said.

Carmen’s ears perked up. “Which means the baby might—“

“Be here soon.”

Her joy over the matter was so overwhelming that she shot to her feet and promptly tripped over the dog, who immediately groaned and shrugged her lower half off of him.

“By the Gods!” she smiled. “This is great! This is
great,
Nova. It—“

She stopped speaking when his outlook did not change.

Carmen frowned.

Nova shied away and once again started toward the window.

Is there something I’m not aware of?
she thought.

She tried to think of anything that Nova or Ketrak could have said that she could have missed, down from the tiniest thing to the most astronomical problem. When she couldn’t
remember anything, she pursed her lips and started to say something before she stopped.

“Katarina’s mother died during childbirth,” Carmen said, “didn’t she?”

Nova’s somber nod was answer enough.

It seemed illogical to think that women could die from giving birth in this day and age—that a girl, so young and strong, could have to fear for her life when up until that moment all had seemed well. The marvel of modern magic was too great to even believe such things, yet alone consider them, but to know that the reality was there was enough to draw upon Carmen’s conscience the nails that so fervently attacked women when considering a child.
You could die,
that horrible thing said,
in so many eyes. From inside out, from outside in, from upside down to rightside up.
Such was the jester in the game of life, she assumed. She’d never once had to worry because of Elrig’s incapability. Now, with Katarina, the matter weighed home all the more.

“The healer will come,” Carmen said, “right?”

“He assured us he would.”

“That nice black man? The one with the Gaia mark on his face?”

Nova nodded. “Ramya is a good man,” he said. “He helped Odin a lot during his times of need and will not shy during ours.”

“Do you need me to go with you?” she frowned. “I mean… to help with anything?”

“I would prefer if you were here.”

“Are you—“ Carmen stopped. The matter decided, she merely shook her head in agreement and gestured Honor to his feet. “You go into town,” she said. “I’ll start gathering things.”

After shrugging into his hood, Nova gave her a sad, uneasy smile before he walked out the door.

Carmen sighed. “Well boy,” she said. “How about you and auntie Carmen go and get some snow for the baby?”

She stooped alongside the road in full winter attire gathering into a rinsing basin some snow. Its contents thick, its texture lush, she took the time to separate the icier sections out in favor of those that could be easily melted down. Fact of the matter was, they had an unlimited supply of snow at their disposal—boiling it to purity would take little less than hours.

Which is good,
she thought.
Very, very good.

Time was of the essence. A moment could become an hour, an hour a day, a day a week. Back home, she’d heard stories of Dwarven women having complications with their children—from their umbilical cords wrapping around their necks during labor to their mouths being filled with phlegm. Most horrible, though, she’d heard of what had happened to some—when, during birth, it became apparent that the baby’s head was far too wide.

But what then?
Carmen remembered asking as a girl of only twelve.

Then they’ll cut her open,
she replied,
and pray the doctor and his magician can put her back together.

Her shiver was grounded far deeper in the past than it was in the present, but she knew she couldn’t let rare possibilities get to her. It was as they said during times bad: if you are to believe that something
will happen, something will, so think only of the best and what will be will be.

What will be will be,
she thought.
What will be… will be.

*

His desperation had grown to a fever pitch. Standing outside Ornala’s gates with his hands shoved into his armpits and his hood drawn over his head, he fought the urge to scream at the guards above to let him in as he waited for the message to be sent to the castle infirmary.

Goddammit,
he thought.
My wife’s about to go into labor and all you fuckers can do is stand there.

“How long is this going to take?” he asked, tilting his eyes up to survey the guards.

“They will come soon, sir,” one of the men said. “I assure you it won’t—“

“Take very long. Yeah, I know. You said that nearly an hour ago.”

The guard, green with youth, pursed his lips and set his attention to the world beyond the Ornalan settlement. His bold defiance was almost enough to make him scream.

How long could he endure this trial, this pain, this torment? Here he was, standing in the cold, a coat about his shoulders and his arms around himself, yet not once had he been frozen
, for within his veins there ran not blood, but flames, and along his bones the crust of metal. As automatons, men are designed to do but one capable thing, but as individuals there comes the matter of framework—where not only are they to be tuned and oiled up, but given freedom over the copses that inhabit them whole.

In standing there, waiting for the request he so desperately wished answer
ed, he felt within himself something rising—something that, in times past, had struck fear even in himself.

Sighing, he willed his body to loosen its posture and nodded when he caught sight of someone stepping onto the wall.

Thank God.

“Sir,” the man said, leaning over the wall to look down at him. “We’ve received word from High Healer Ramya. He said he will be out as soon as he possibly—“

A scream tore through the morning air.

Nova froze.

The guards above stiffened. “What was that?” one asked.

“My wife,” Nova said. “Tell the healer to come.
Now.”

“Sir—“

He didn’t bother to wait.

Nova ran.

*

“Hurry!” Carmen cried, jumping as she waved her hands back and forth. “Hurry!
Hurry!”

Her screams were terror, born of rage of the body and panic of the m
ind. Like great eagles diving from the highest of peaks they echoed from the house and into the open air, rending all in their path and stunning those who weren’t. From homes makeshift curtains were parted, where faces appeared and eyes peered out, and from the distant path that led to the greatest place in this country there came a man running, his hair askew from the hood that had flown from his head and his eyes a hellfire of fear.

He was on her in but a moment.

Honor barked.

She tried to speak, but couldn’t as he burst into the house.

Her breath was lost in his wake.

Come on, come on. You can’t just stand here. You have to do something.

She didn’t bother to close the door as she entered the house.

Inside, the madness of childbirth consumed her mind and ears.

“It’s ok boy,” Carmen said, desperate to calm not only the frantic dog, but herself as she made her way through the house. “Everything’s going to be fine. Everything—“

Katarina screamed.

“Where is the healer?”
Ketrak cried.

“I don’t know!”
Nova screamed back.

“Stay,” Carmen said, pointing one lone, accusatory finger at the dog as they neared the threshold to the couple’s room. The dog whimpered and lowered his head. “Do as I say, buddy.
Stay.”

The dog appeared to nod before sliding onto the floor, covering both eyes with his paws.

After taking a deep breath to prepare herself for what was to come, Carmen stepped into the room.

Though the baby had yet to appear from Katarina’s womb, the sight of her friend prone and crying nearly sent her over the edge.

It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. The healer’s going to come and he’ll deliver the baby and she’ll be fine and so will the baby and—

Her irrationality over the matter was ridiculous, considering the circumstance. It wasn’t her baby, her child,
her
body—it was her friend’s. There shouldn’t have been any panic at all, yet in her mind she couldn’t help but imagine herself in Katarina’s situation, fighting to bring a life into the world when things are so often made unborn.

Ashlyn.