Lord Soth (29 page)

“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?”

Madness roiled in the pit of Soth’s belly, slowly making its way to his brain. “Take it!” Soth said to Istvan, holding the child out to the healer.

“What’s wrong?” asked Korinne.

“So you think the beast beautiful, do you?” Soth shouted. “Have you been so blinded by love for the devouring dark that you can’t even see the evil offspring you’ve created?”

“What?” cried Korinne, struggling to sit up. “Let me see him. Let me see my boy!”

“Boy?” said Soth, walking over to Istvan and snatching the blanket from his hands. He unwrapped the child and held it high above his head. “Is this your boy? Or is this the product of monstrous infidelity, evil faithlessness?”

Korinne simply looked at the child, blinking in disbelief. Her mind was reeling. Finally she shook her head. “No, I’ve always been faithful to you.”

“Liar!” He shook the child as he spoke and Istvan quickly retrieved it.

“I have been, I swear to you!” repeated Korinne.

“Then how do you explain that … that monster?”

“My boy?” Korinne asked, looking to Istvan.

She paused in confusion and then suddenly her face became a mask of terror. She turned her wide eyes upon her husband. “It’s your fault. You were the one who created it!”

“Has your lover made you mad as well?” shouted Soth.

“Your seed wouldn’t give me a child, so I paid a visit to the hedge witch who
gave
me a child … the child you couldn’t produce.”

“So, it’s born of the blackest sort of magic,” Soth hissed.

“No, the blackest of souls,” replied Korinne.

For a moment, Korinne’s words sent a spike of fear through Soth’s heart. “Istvan,” he called. “Leave the room. Now.”

Istvan made ready to leave, carrying the child.

“Leave it there!”

Dutifully, Istvan set the child in the bassinet and left the room, locking the door behind him.

Soth turned to face Korinne.

“What madness moves your tongue?”

Korinne was in tears. “The witch told me the health of the child would depend on the purity of
your
soul. I knew you’d been intimate with the elf, but I could never imagine you’d done so much evil in your life that you could produce such a … such a …” Her voice trailed off and she began to sob openly.

Soth looked at her, the words causing a sudden touch of fear to become mixed in with his rage. If it were true, if the child’s health depended on his virtue, it was no wonder that it had been born a …

A sort of madness began to seep into his mind as he realized that, as much as he’d tried to avoid them, his father’s sins had become his, had become his child’s.

The sins of the father, passed on from generation to generation.

“What have you done?” Korinne shouted between sobs. “What black deed have you done?”

Soth’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Korinne. The sudden shock he’d felt at her words had been erased by rage.

And now, utter madness was overtaking him. A potent mixture of rage, anger, jealousy, and self-hate. It consumed him like flame, controlled his actions.

Without answering her question, he drew a dagger from the belt around his waist and held it before him in his fisted right hand.

“What … what are you doing?” she screamed, her eyes wide with terror. “No, please—”

He was at one with the madness now.

As he moved toward Korinne, the sounds of her screams were suddenly mixed with the sickeningly hoarse grunts of the newborn child.

Minutes later there was only silence.

Caradoc and Istvan had been waiting outside the chamber while Soth was inside with his wife and newborn child.

Why Soth wanted to be alone in the room, particularly without the help of the healer, Caradoc didn’t know. What he did know was that if Soth wanted to be alone in the room, then it was up to him to make sure he remain undisturbed.

When Korinne’s screams began, Istvan abruptly got up from where he sat and desperately wanted to gain access to the chambers. It was his job, after all, to heal the sick and ease the suffering of those in pain. But rather than allow him entrance to the room, Caradoc had moved in front of the door, blocking Istvan’s way.

“Perhaps it would be best to wait until milord calls you back inside.”

Istvan had been troubled by this, and well he should, thought Caradoc, because there was something strange about the birth of this child. So much pain, it wasn’t right.
Nevertheless, both Caradoc and Istvan’s allegiance was sworn to the lord of the keep and it was their duty to follow his orders.

When Korinne’s screams grew louder, Caradoc himself had wanted to break down the door to find out what was happening, but he steeled himself against the impulse and cast a cold eye toward Istvan to make sure the healer did not move.

And now they waited patiently for the appearance of Lord Soth, Caradoc cleaning his fingernails with the end of a stiletto, Istvan doing a variety of stretching exercises designed to ease the troublesome pain in his joints.

The door suddenly moved, then began to swing open on its hinges. Soth appeared in the doorway, his long black hair hanging down from his head like tattered threads, a touch of gray apparent around the temples and streaked throughout with wisps of white.

“Is everything all right, milord?” asked Caradoc.

Soth shook his head. “No, I’m afraid it isn’t.”

“What’s happened?” said Istvan, getting to his feet.

“Unfortunately, both milady and the child … died during childbirth,” said Soth, his voice surprisingly calm. He looked directly at Istvan. “Despite your best efforts.”

“But I—” Istvan began to say.

Soth cut him off with a hard look, then turned to face Caradoc.

The seneschal shivered as Soth’s cold eyes seem to cut right through him.

“I said, milady and the child died during childbirth.” He said each word slowly and clearly. “Despite the heroic efforts of our most brave and gallant healer.”

“Yes, milord,” said Caradoc.

Soth waited for the healer to speak.

“Yes, milord,” Istvan whispered.

Soth nodded, leaned forward to speak directly to Caradoc. “Get rid of the bodies,” he said. “And make sure there’s nothing left when you are done.”

Caradoc swallowed. “Yes, milord.”

“Good,” said Soth. “Istvan. It’s been a long night. Perhaps we should both get some rest.” He put a hand on the healer’s shoulder and led him away.

Caradoc entered the chamber. After two steps he realized his boots were sticking to blood that had pooled on the surface of the floor. Nevertheless he continued toward where the bed sat against the far wall of the room.

He stopped dead in his tracks long before he got there.

As he looked at the gore on the bed, his stomach spasmed and he swallowed in an attempt to keep from retching. He covered his mouth and tried to look away, but found he couldn’t—his eyes were too firmly locked on the blood-soaked bed.