Jim Butcher - Cursors's Fury

“Yes,” Araris said quietly.

Alia nodded slowly. “Then… with your assistance, I think I can help her.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Watercrafting? Do you have that kind of skill?”

“Sir?” Alia said hesitantly. “Are we spoiled for choicer”

Araris’s mouth twitched at one corner in a fleeting smile. “I suppose not. Have you ever served as a midwife before?”

“Twice,” Alia said. She swallowed. “Urn. With horses.”

“Horses,” Araris said.

Alia nodded, her eyes deep with shadows, worried. “Well. Father actually did it. But I helped him.”

The younger Isana screamed again.

Araris nodded once the contraction had passed. “Get her other arm.”

The ragged image of Fade, standing beside Isana, said, “This was the second mistake. Fool. I was such a fool.”

Together, the pair dragged Isana into the shallow pool. Araris stripped out of his armor with hurried motions and knelt behind Isana, supporting her upper body against his chest while Alia knelt before her.

Isana stared at the entire thing, fascinated by Fade’s memories. She remembered none of this. She had never been told of this.

Araris gave the young Isana his hands, and she squeezed them bloodless through each contraction. Alia knelt before her sister, hands framing her belly, her eyes closed in a frown of concentration. The scene acquired a timeless quality, somehow removed from everything else that was happening, existing in its own, private world.

Alia suddenly fell to her side in the pool, splashing water. Araris’s gaze snapped up to her. “Are you all right?”

The girl trembled for a moment before closing her eyes and rising again. Her face had gone very pale. “Fine,” she said. “Just cold.”

“Fool,” Fade mumbled from beside Isana. “Fool.”

Isana’s belly twisted in sudden, horrible understanding of what was coming.

An hour passed, Alia encouraging her sister, growing steadily more unsteady and more pale, while Araris focused the whole of his concentration on supporting Isana.

In time, there was a tiny, choked little cry. Alia gently took a tiny form in her arms, and wrapped it in the cloak that lay nearby and ready. The baby continued to cry, a desperate, horribly lonely little sound.

Alia, moving very slowly, reached out and passed the baby to the young Isana. She saw a fine down of dark hair. The miserable little infant began to quiet as his dazed mother pressed her against him, and he blinked up at her with Septimus’s grass green eyes.

“Hail, Octavian,” Alia whispered.

Then she slid down to the ground, into the pool, suddenly motionless.

Araris saw it and panicked. With a cry, he drew Isana and the baby from the pool. Then he returned for Alia. She did not move. Did not breathe.

Fade tore her dress from the wound and there found an ugly sight. The broken end of an arrow pressed up from the wound like some obscene splinter, and Araris realized with a shock that several inches of arrow, tipped with the head of volcanic glass, had pierced her deeply.

Darkness fell.

“She lied,” Fade said quietly to Isana. “She was more worried about you than she was herself. She didn’t want to distract me from helping you and the baby.”

Tears blurred her vision, and her heart felt a fresh stab of pain at witnessing Alias death-and then a horrible, crushing mountain of guilt that her little sister had died to save her fell upon Isana’s shoulders.

“I never should have left you both alone,” Fade said. “Not even for a moment. I should have seen what was happening to her. And Tavi…” Fade swallowed. “He never found his furies. It had to have happened during the birthing. The cold maybe. Sometimes a difficult birth can damage the child, impair his mind. If I had only remembered my duty. Used my head. I betrayed him-and you, and Alia and Tavi.”

“Why, Fade?” Isana whispered. “Why do you say that?”

“I can’t,” he whispered. “He was like a brother. It should never have happened. Never ”

And then, suddenly, the scene shifted again. Isana and Fade stood back at the Legion camp, just before the attack. Septimus stood before them in his command tent, eyes hard and calculating. A steady stream of orders flowed from his lips, giving commands to his Tribunes as Araris helped him into his armor.

He finished, and the tent emptied as the camp stirred itself to battle. Araris finished the last lacing on the armor and banged hard on Septimus’s armored shoulder, then seized the Princeps helm from its stand and tossed it underhand to Septimus.

“I’ll help ready the command position, “ Araris said. “See you there. “

“Rari,” Septimus said. “Wait.”

Araris paused, frowning back at the Princeps.

“I need you to do something.”

Araris smiled. “I’ll see to it. We’re sending the noncombatants out already. “

“No,” Septimus said. He put a hand on Araris’s shoulder. “I need you to take her out of here yourself.”

Araris stiffened. “What?”

“I want you to take Isana and her sister out.”

“My place is beside you.”

Septimus hesitated for a moment, and glanced to the east with haunted eyes. Then he said, “No. Not tonight it isn’t.”

Araris frowned. “Your Highness? Are you all right?”

Septimus shook himself like a dog shedding water, and the uncertainty vanished from his expression. “Yes. But I think I finally understand what’s been happening since Seven Hills.”

“What do you mean?” Araris asked.

Septimus shook his head and lifted his hand. “There’s no time. I want you to take them to safety.”

“Your Highness, I can assign a mounted unit to escort them out.”

“No. It’s got to be you.”

“Crows, Septimus,” Araris said. “Why?”

Septimus met his eyes directly, and said quietly, “Because I know you’ll take care of her.”

Araris’s eyes widened, and his face went pale. He shook his head. “Sep, no. No, it isn’t like that. I would never want that. Not for my lord. Not for my friend.”

The Princeps face suddenly lit in a smile, and he threw back his head in a belly laugh. “Crows. I know that, Rari, you fool. I know you wouldn’t.”

Araris ducked his head, frowning. “Still. I shouldn’t. It isn’t right.”

Septimus thumped a fist down on Araris’s shoulder. “Bah, man. I can’t very well throw stones at anyone who falls in love with her. I did, after all.” He glanced in the direction of the tent he shared with Isana. “She’s something special.”

“She is,” Araris agreed quietly.

Septimus’s face sobered. “It’s got to be you.”

“All right,” Araris said.

“If something happens to me-”

“It won’t,” Araris said firmly.

“We can’t know that,” Septimus said. “No one ever can. It’s got to be you. If something happens to me, I want her to be taken care of.” He glanced back at Araris. “I can’t stand the thought of her and the child being alone. Promise me, Araris.”

Araris shook his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Septimus agreed. “I hope so. But promise me.”

Araris frowned at the Princeps for a moment. Then he jerked his chin in a quick nod. “I’ll watch over her.”

Septimus clapped his arm gently, his tone warm. “Thank you.”

The dream froze, locked into that image.

Fade, beside Isana, stared at the image of Septimus. “I failed him,” he said. Tears rolled down his cheeks, over the burn scars. “I should have stood with him. But when push came to shove… all I wanted was to get you away from the battle. To make sure you were safe.” He bowed his head. “I let my heart guide my head. I let it blind me to my duties. Blind me to possible dangers. Blind me to your sister’s injuries. Blind me to what might happen to the baby.”