Elizabeth Kerner: Redeeming the Lost

I managed to sit about the house resting, as ordered, for all of a week. The next morning I was up before Maran, making the porridge and starting the bread. She scowled at me for not following Vilkas's orders for exacdy three breaths, then she grinned at me. "Bored, are you?" she asked.

"Put me to work," I begged. "Quick, before I get too big to do anything at all."

She laughed and led me to the forge, where she provided me with an ancient, scarred leather apron and a thick leather jerkin. I started like the rawest apprentice, working the bellows, but over the days and weeks she taught me how to stoke the fire, the smell and look and sound of iron when it is ready for the hammer, and one memorable day she handed me her second-best hammer and let me get on with trying to shape metal.

I have never known anything like it. I'd never done the like before, but I had watched Maran close for some time by then, and the movements just seemed—natural. The hammer seemed to fit my hand, the iron turned sweetly for me. My mothers eyes gleamed with pride. "By the Goddess, my girl, you've the making of a fine smith in you!" she declared.

"Oh, is that what they are?" I said, looking down at my bulge in surprise. She had a grand laugh, my mother, one that started at her toes and took her over entire when she was really amused. Impossible to resist.

When I came near to the start of the seventh month of my pregnancy, however, Vilkas returned and declared that his wandering was over for now.

"I've almost two months yet before anything exciting is due to happen, surely?" I said, panting a little. I was finding it harder to breathe, and Maran had banned me from the forge the week before, for her own safety as well as mine.

"You never know with twins," replied Vilkas, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably.

"And how many twins have you delivered, O Great Dragon Mage?" I asked, teasing.

"Only one set, and that was at Verfaren," he replied, suddenly serious. "Lanen, now that you mention it, I would like your permission to bring in a colleague to assist me. Her experience with midwifery is much greater than mine." He grinned a little ruefully. "She is also less likely to terrify an expectant mother, though I'd hope you would be used to me by now."

I took advantage of my state to surprise young Vilkas and hugged him tight. "You dear idiot," I said, releasing him. "I'm married to the largest dragon in all the world, and you think I'd be afraid of you?"

He laughed rather well, all in all. "Still, I would like to call her in for the birth," he said, "and perhaps a few weeks before. Twins can come early." He looked about him. "If your mother wouldn't mind, I expect she'd appreciate a place to stay as well."

I laughed. "What's one more in this barn? Do what you need to, Vil. I trust you," I said.

I should have known, really. Idai arrived a week later, bearing Aral and Will and followed closely by Salera. Vil had gone to Akor, asked him to bespeak Idai and beg her to find Aral. There was a grand reunion, and the house was full.

I was quietly delighted that Will had come with Aral as a matter of course. They had progressed so far as to occasionally hold hands publicly. It was clear to all the rest of us that it only a matter of time. Aral was more contented than I had seen her, and Will stood at least a handspan taller, bless his good soul.

When the new arrivals sought their beds, I stepped out into the long twilight of the northern summer to walk Akor back to his chambers. He had been labouring on Maran's courtyard, but it was slow work, and not kind to the clumsy hands that attempted it. As we passed the latest disaster of a stone wall I smiled. "Perhaps we can find a stonemason who will trade his skill for raw lifting power," I suggested. It made Akor hiss with amusement, and for that I was grateful.

I was becoming grateful for anything that helped us to be together. We had begun to live disparate fives, and it worried me. When we were apart, we bespoke one another and we were knit as close as ever. Our souls have ever been the two halves of one whole. In truespeech we shared heart, mind, and spirit, and all was very well. It was only when we were in one another's presence that we could not ignore the eternal distance between us. Now and ever, Kantri and Gedri, between whom there could be only a meeting of the minds—except in our babes.

I waddled along the rough path, feeling better for the exercise but not able to keep it up very long. We came to an open space where there was a convenient stone to sit on, and I made use of it.

"Are they not yet prepared for the world?" asked Akor lightly, staring fascinated at my awkward body. "Surely you cannot stretch any farther!"

I laughed despite myself. "Alas that we cannot call to them and suggest that now would be a fine time to be born! The Lady knows I am ready for it." I sighed. "Right now, I'd settle for being able to see my feet."

I expected Akor to hiss, but he turned away with a moan.

"Dear heart, what is it?" I asked, adding dryly, "I mean, what is it more than we have borne these three months past?"

"Nothing more, Lanen, but—nothing less," he said. He could not look at me. "The time is nearly come. Our children are ready to be born. And I will never—I cannot—damnation!" He cried out, a wordless shout into the darkling sky. "Lanen, I can bear it no longer!" he groaned. His wings were starting to flutter in his agitation. "Here you are, more beautiful than ever, full of new life we have made between us—and I who have longed for younglings for a thousand years will never be able to hold my own babes." He began to pace up and down, as much as so large a creature could in the space. "It will be many years ere I dare even to touch them, lest a careless talon should rip through tender skin. I could murder them by mistake!"

"Please, Akor," I said, trying to compose myself. "Love, don't break now. I need you more with every passing day."

"I know it, I know it, but Lanen—Lanen, I cannot bear it! I am come to the end of myself." He roared, sending Fire into the night sky, and I realised that he was furious. "Ye traitor Winds!" he cried out. "I have given myself, body and soul and life and all, to my people, as you demanded. I never knew love until I knew her. Why have you given us to each other only to tear us apart?" His voice grew even louder. "I cannot bear it!" He was practically dancing on the spot, so desperate was he to be gone from me. I knew exactly what he was feeling, and I couldn't blame him in the least, and I blamed him with every word he said. He turned to me again, agony in his voice. "Lanen, I cannot bear it!"

"Then go," I said, stonily. "You have wings. You can go wherever in the world you wish." I stood tall, my belly prominent. "I am held down to earth."

I had sworn to myself that I wouldn't bespeak him, I knew it would be the last burden on a weakened back, but my anger rose to meet his. "Your childer, Akor. Ourchilder. Do not turn coward on me now, damn you. I need you."

He screamed then, a soul pushed to the limit of endurance. He rose with a thunderclap into the darkening sky, and his mind voice sang its agony and its contrition as he flew away north, deeper into the great forest.

"Lanen forgive, forgive, I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it any longer. Lanen, my heart, you know that I love you beyond words, to be separate forever from you and from my only younglings, it destroys me, I cannot bear it, forgive, forgive..."

I felt as though I should weep, but there were no tears. Curious. I think I would have been more angry with him if I had not been so relieved He was not the only one who could not stand it any longer. It was not his fault, nor mine. I bowed my head for a moment, my eyes closed. Ah, Lady Mother Skia, I whispered. I heard the bards' tales but I did not understand. The love that is too wild and strong destroys the lovers every time, doesn't tt? I don't think I could have stood his presence a moment longer was agony to see him, agony to have him so close and so infinitely far away. I gazed up where he had gone. Fly well, my heart, I thought, carefully not bespeaking him. Thank you for leaving. Your suffering made mine worse too. If you ever come back, I'M apologise properly.