Elizabeth Haydon - Destiny - Child of the Sky

Oelendra rose. “I think I do.”

“No, you don’t” Rhapsody spat. She clutched the windowsill and tried to maintain control; she had much to get through before she could let her fear loose.

Oelendra came up behind her and took her by the shoulders. “I do know what it is like to lose someone you love with all your heart to the F’dor, Rhapsody. I know you miss Jo, but Gwydion is still here. You must allow him to give you back your memories, no matter how painful, for without them you will never be whole.”

Rhapsody shook Oelendra’s hands off her violently, and turned around slowly. The look of devastation in her eyes made the Lirin warrior’s soul shudder.

“I will never be whole anyway, Oelendra. I can’t see Ashe right now. Please, stop it. I told him I would not see him until the Cymrian Council, and I do not intend to break my word. Now leave me in peace.” She turned and walked to the door. “Can I expect you this afternoon?”

“Tell me,” Oelendra said quietly. “Tell me, Rhapsody.”

Rhapsody knew better than to dodge. “I can’t.”

“Can’t, or are afraid to?”

“Both.”

Oelendra put her arms out silently. Rhapsody stood for a moment by the door, her hand on the latch. Then she shook her head. “Don’t, Oelendra, if you comfort me I will not make it through. I have to keep going until I can safely lay it down.”

“Then tell me from over there.” Oelendra went back to the fire and sat in her rocking chair, and pointed to a small wooden desk chair by the window. “Tell me as if you are giving me a scouting report. Or like you’re planning the spring festival, or as though you’re updating me on plans for the children.” The queen’s face turned white. “Sit down, Rhapsody,” Oelendra said gently, but firmly. Numbly, Rhapsody sat. Oelendra waited patiently, and in silence.

Finally Rhapsody looked down into her lap, and squeezed her hands together until the blood left her knuckles. “There is a possibility that I am pregnant,” she said hollowly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Oelendra let her breath out quietly. She hid her smile, knowing what joy the news would bring to Gwydion, and how thrilled Rhapsody would be once she knew the truth. She just needed to overcome the misconception that her husband was wed to another. “All the more reason to tell him, darling,” she said sensibly. “He has a right to know.”

“It’s not his.”

Oelendra was thunderstruck, but outwardly all she did was blink. “Oh? Who is the father, then?”

Rhapsody raised her eyes slowly and locked her gaze onto Oelendra’s. “The F’dor.” It was now her turn to watch her friend begin to shake uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, Oelendra. You wanted to know.”

Oelendra rose from her chair and paced before the fireplace, trying to keep Rhapsody from seeing her face. When she had a modicum of control back she came to the queen and crouched down before her, taking her hands.

“Explain, Rhapsody. What’s going on?”

Rhapsody looked away. “I wish I knew for certain. The demon was able to speak to me from inside; Achmed and Grunthor couldn’t hear him. He told me that the Rakshas had taken Ashe’s place, and had—had—planted his seed inside me. He knew about a night when—when it could have happened. He knew a great many things he shouldn’t have, Oelendra; and when he spoke the word that made the seed begin to grow, I could feel it. He said that it had steeped a long time in his blood, so now it was demonic, not human like the others.”

“You’re taking his word for all this?”

“No, not absolutely,” Rhapsody answered quietly. “But, as I said, it’s hard to discount when he knows things that would be difficult to guess at.”

“But not impossible?”

She considered. “No, I suppose not. But I have been nauseous and in pain ever since.”

“That could be nerves, or fear, or both. I know I have felt that way myself.”

Rhapsody was on the verge of losing her temper. “Yes, Oelendra, it could be. It could also be that I am in the process of being the vehicle by which the F’dor returns to the Earth.” She stood and went to the coat peg, retrieving her cloak.

Oelendra could not watch her. “Is it really possible, Rhapsody? Demons are expert liars. F’dor can take the smallest shred of the truth and build it into something terrifying, playing on your deepest fears. Could he have convinced you of this despite its impossibility?”

Rhapsody belted her sword, and came back to where Oelendra still crouched down, and bent beside her, resting her hand on the warrior’s cheek. Oelendra turned after a moment and looked into her eyes, and cringed at what she saw there.

“I know you don’t want to believe this, but it is definitely possible,” Rhapsody said softly. “In fact, the more I reflect on it, the more I think it is likely. But it doesn’t matter, Oelendra. I can’t know the answer to it now. I can’t, because if it is true, I won’t be able to go on. So help me, please, as you always have.

“I need to get through the Council, and finish what we’ve started with the reunification and healing of the Cymrians. Before that, I have to be certain Tyrian is in good hands, which is where you can help. And when those two things are accomplished, I will seek out the truth. But I can assure you of the truth of one thing, Oelendra, on my word and my soul: if it is true, if I am carrying this demonic child, it will not be born. It will not revisit itself on this land. I will die first. I have already arranged it. Now, I’ll see you with Rial later. Thank you for the dot mwl .” She kissed the older woman and stood, walking to the door. “Rhapsody?”

She turned to see the ancient warrior staring out the window. “Yes?” Oelendra did not blink, looking into the distance. “I love you as if you were my own daughter. I wish you were, more than you could ever know. Look after yourself.”

Rhapsody watched her for a moment, then left as quietly as she had come in.

With the knowledge that Tyrian was in good hands, Rhapsody headed northeast on her way to the Bolglands. The earth around her was beginning to stretch in the relief of the thaw that was coming, tufts of frozen grass and ground emerging here and there. The trees of the forests and the fields were starting to send forth tiny precursor buds heralding the new leaves that would arrive with spring, and the hardiest early snowdrops were blooming everywhere.

Rhapsody took in the sights with pensive eyes. She endeavored to make note of each of the things she had always found beautiful, cataloguing the memory of them in the knowledge that she might never see them again.

Seeing them now was not the same as appreciating them as she once had; it was a joyless time.

Her abdomen, though still flat and lithe, cramped more each day, and what food she could occasionally force down often refused to stay there. In addition, her nightmares had grown violent and more intense than ever; visions of the benison laughing as the Rakshas violated her over and over again, speaking in Ashe’s voice, then curling up inside her to await his abhorrent rebirth. Even the tamer dreams, images of Ashe and their time together, their gentle, reassuring love, would always end in his transformation into the construct of the F’dor.

Try as she might, she could not seem to shake the incubus that had attached itself to her. As a result, she had taken to sleeping only as long as she needed to sustain her life. She became haggard in appearance and in speech, occasionally unable to form coherent sentences or complete simple thoughts. Rial had grown alarmed and tried to keep her from going alone; Oelendra had volunteered to travel with her, but she had refused them both, saying only that she would sleep long and well soon.