Kima struggled to do her work in the fields, pulling up the weeds from between tall stalks of wheat. Bend, pull and throw, bend, pull and throw, even such movements were difficult for Kima to do with her enlarged belly. She paused, sweat pouring down her thin and pale face, thin strands of hair falling from her ponytail to stick to her face. She patted her stomach lightly and couldn't help but smile as she did so.
"Soon you shall enter this world of toil. But you shall be free of such labors, you shall be free my child." Then she heard somebody coming towards her and quickly got back to work, unsure as to whom the other may be. When her husband stepped from the shield of wheat, Kima straightened up and smiled to him. "What are you doing here m'dear?" She asked this because he was supposed to be taking care of the Lord's horses. The man, tall and broad, was certainly built to handle the fiery creatures that the Lord rode.
"I came to see how you were doing. The head stable hand told me I could get off a little early, since he knows what we're going through right now. So, how are you doing Kima?" His eyes of deep brown held worry as he looked over her sweating face and his lips were held in a firm line of dislike at the thought of a woman, so close to birth, still being made to work. But he also disliked the idea that his child should be born into some job, shall grow up and be working his whole life with no education, no real life at all. He moved to put his arm around Kima, kissing her cheek softly.
"I'm fine Jaol dear. It seems to have become hard work though, even just pulling weeds. But your son shall come soon and I shall be free from manual labor for a while, until he grows to 5 years." She smiled, pushing the fallen strands of black hair from her face as she gave him a quick hug. She sighed and sadness seemed to come into her eyes as she thought of her child working. It was then that she felt the first pangs of childbirth, but she didn't realize what the sharp pain meant, not yet, but it did cause her to wince and grab her stomach with a dirt-covered hand. This was cause for Jaol not only to become concerned, but frightened and nervous. "Jaol! I think the child is coming!" She clutched at his hand, looking for support. She was in the middle of a field, she could not birth here, onto the dirt and weeds.
Her eyes of crystal blue darted here and there, looking for help and a clean place to introduce the child to the world. Not even an empty wagon was within her sight and she knew she wouldn't be able to make it home to birth the child. She would have to just make do with what she had and the child would enter the world in a field. This would have happened if Kima's friend hadn't been nearby and saw Kima's face contort in pain before running to get the wagon over there so Kima would have a chance of getting home. The appearance of the wagon at the end of the row surprised both Jaol and Kima but they both smiled and impatiently awaited its arrival. Kima's face was continually changing in pain and anger, her eyes scared and worried. As the wagon pulled up alongside them, Jaol began helping Kima aboard, knowing it would be hard for her to get up on her own.
"Back to our cabin Jase, and try to hurry. I know those horses are faster than they seem, they just need to be pushed." Jase was the driver and a close friend to Jaol, but Jase was also young and was ready for speed. He nodded to Jaol and slapped the leather reins against the rumps of the two horses that pulled the thankfully empty wagon. The two horses charged off as fast as the harnesses and wagon could allow. As they bounced along the dirt fields and roads, Kima tried to breathe through the pain and clenched Jaol's hand tightly while hoping that she could make it home and maybe get the mid-wife there. But she had little hope and already strength was not completely on her side. But on the horses charged, Jase driving them skillfully and pushing them as hard as he dared.
Just as Kima began to give up hope and just as the babe was trying to break out, they reached their home and Jaol carefully carried her in after giving swift and sharp orders for Jase to go and pick up the mid-wife. As he put Kima down on their bed, he realized he would be made to leave when the mid-wife arrived. But for now he sat beside her on the bed, returning the tight embrace of her hand with his own. He looked up as the door flew open and Jase ushered the mid-wife in. She shot a glance at Jaol, who carefully removed his hand from Kima's grip and left, sadness and hope in his eyes.
The mid-wife watched as Jaol left the house with Jase and then went about her work. She knew the babe would appear soon and got everything together swiftly hoping for the best for both the mother and child. She noticed the woman was in lack of strength because of working the fields, and that dampened her hope for the pair, the mother and babe. Soon Kima shouted out with pain and the first signs of the babe came, the top of the head. Kima was in pain she had never felt and her vision was blurred because of it. She was only vaguely aware as to her surroundings and who was in the house. All she knew was Jaol was no longer holding her hand and it scared her. But she had no time to be scared, she had to breathe and push the child from her womb.
"Breath and push Kima. Easy now." The soft, grating voice of the mid-wife reached Kima's ears, giving her careful direction. Kima tried, but just couldn't do as she was told. The pain was too great and she was weak from working the fields while carrying the babe. The mid-wife knew every woman in the city, though not very well. Slowly the head appeared, but just getting that far seemed to be too much for Kima, and her breathing began to slow and her pushes became feeble. For what seemed hours she pushed and ever so slowly grew weaker and weaker. When the mid-wife told her that the babe was almost out, a new strength seemed to come forth in Kima and her breathing became regular and strong and her pushes were strong once more. The babe finally entered the real world, falling onto a pile of cloths that covered the bed area.
Right away the baby began to cry and then the mid-wife began to clean him up, wiping away fluids and blood. She then wrapped him in a blanket and carried him to Kima's arms, setting him down into the new mother's arms. Then Jaol was called in and he smiled as he saw his child in Kima's arms. He went to her side and kissed her cheek, watching the baby and liking it despite the loud crying. It was a boy, quite a boy really. No wonder Kima had had a hard time delivering the child, he was big, though not exactly chubby. Kima's breathing was slow and shallow now, but she was able to smile and hold the child.
"Sirit�" She practically sighed the words and then laid her head back against the pillow. She took a breath then all her breathing faded and her hands became cold. The birthing had been too much for the young woman. The child lay crying in his now dead mother's arms, Jaol had soon realized Kima had not survived. He closed his eye and kissed her cold and still clammy forehead, taking his son in his arms. He cried now, tears flowing down his tanned and scarred cheeks, falling to land upon his son.
"Kima�" His voice trailed off and he then looked at his son, who was now calm and quiet, eyes not looking at his father, but at his mother. As the babe turned his head to look upon his father, Jaol was startled and his eyes widened. Red eyes! His son had eyes of red, crimson fire, RED! But he had to overlook it, the lad was his son. "Sirit, my son. I shall take care of you."
"Father! Father!" Sirit ran into the stables, eyes darting here and there, looking for the familiar form of his father. He saw him grooming a large black stallion, which was the Lord's very own mount and finest creature. Sirit hurried over, his hair sweeping about his face. "Father! Wow! You get to groom the Lord's stallion?" His red eyes looked over the stallion, fixing on the crucial parts of the horse. The legs, the rump, the head, the forequarters; the beast was perfect! The stallion seemed to contain the same regal poise that the Lord himself had. Standing tall and proud with a look in his eyes that clearly said, "Yes, you groom me, but do a good job, or else." Sirit had never seen such a majestic creature. As Sirit came running up and yelling for his father, Jaol jumped slightly, causing the stallion to snort and toss his head, but nothing more.
"Sirit! You're not supposed to run in the stable, remember?" Jaol's eyes of deep brown held seriousness though also clearly held laughter as well. He watched as his now ten-year-old son put on the innocent face and puppy dog eyes in a way of saying sorry Jaol had become quite familiar with, as had most of the city. Sirit was a troublemaker and many people knew his innocent look that he used to say sorry. Jaol chuckled and tussled his son's rather long hair of deep red. "Yeah, I get ta groom the Lord's stallion. A fine beast isn't he?" He ran a hand along the thick neck as he said this, knowing his son had developed a good eye for horseflesh.
"Yes, he's magnificent father. He reminds me much of the Lord actually." This caused both of them to laugh, but only for a short period of time. Then Jaol went back to grooming the stallion. "Father, could I go riding this afternoon?" This was the reason Sirit had come to the stables and been looking for his father. He enjoyed riding and actually had his own horse, sort of. It was a small sorrel mare, who belonged to the Lord, as most horses of the city did, but Sirit was allowed to ride her wherever he wished, but he had to ask his father or the head stable hand for permission first. He hoped his father would say yes, he loved to go galloping across the fields and plains. One day he dreamed of leaving this city, going off on his own, becoming a traveler.
"You're going to take out Feria again?" Jaol was answered by a swift bout of nodding and a grin. It made him chuckle. "I suppose so. I guess you don't need any help tacking her up?" Jaol asked this more to humor Sirit. Everybody knew Sirit rode without saddle and sometimes without bridle, though rarely.
Instead of saying anything, Sirit hurried over to Feria's stall, ducking in and backing the mare out. He grabbed her bridle from the hook beside her stall and quickly slipped it onto the mare's head, Feria lipping the bit up and allowing Sirit to slip her ears under the leather straps. With the bridle now on, Sirit swung up onto the mare's back and smiled at his father. He didn't need a boost; he was quite tall for his age, standing about four inches taller than other boys his age. Jaol smiled and nodded, saying the boy could go. As his father nodded, Sirit tapped Feria's flanks with his heels and the mare cantered out of the stable. He steered her down the city roads, never slowing her. Anything they couldn't dodge that was low enough, they jumped. Anything they couldn't jump, they dodged. Most people got out of their way, shouting curses after them, but some had to be dodged around. But Sirit wanted to make good time to the city gates, which wouldn't open after darkness fell.
He had become used to the shouting and the curses, and he had never really cared about it. He saw the gates looming nearer as they kept up with their steady pace of a swift canter. Feria moved with smooth and easy strides that covered an amount of ground that didn't seem to suit the relatively small horse. She snorted and changed leads in her movements without missing a single beat, shifting into a faster speed of the same gait. Sirit sat astride her back, leaning forward slightly and gripping at a chunk of the flowing mane as an added aid in staying steady upon Feria's back. The gates were wide open and seemed to be beckoning for them to go through, to enter the wild and leave the city behind.
As the horse and rider excited the gates, they nearly ran into another horse and rider who certainly weren't out leisure riding. Both horses slid to a halt and reared; Feria almost unseating Sirit. The other rider snarled and glared at Sirit as he calmed his horse, a large stallion of a deep gray, almost like steel.
"Watch where you're riding boy! Out of my way!" The man's voice was deep and demanding, but Sirit was frozen to the spot, he didn't ask Feria to move. So instead the man reefed upon his horse's bit and Sirit was sure he saw blood begin to mingle with the white foam that surrounded the mount's mouth. This, Sirit didn't like.
"Why don't you be a little nicer to your horse sir!"
"And why don't you go back to plowing the fields with your plow pony there and mind your own business." With that the man galloped into the city, leaving Sirit glaring after him. Now, Sirit wasn't one to take any cruelty to horses lightly, and he especially hated being silenced when he was right. He spun Feria around and galloped after the man and his swift gray. He lost sight of the rider for a moment, but quickly found him again. He pushed the sorrel mare onward to greater speeds, striving to get ahead of the man. Slowly Feria gained, but it just wasn't fast enough, Sirit pushed her faster and faster, now wishing he were allowed to ride the big horses, like the Lord's horse. But Feria was beginning to gain faster and faster and before Sirit knew it, they had pulled ahead of the other rider.
So, with determination in his red eyes, Sirit pushed Feria a little further ahead, and then spun her to stand sideways across the street, blocking the rider's way. The man thought he could dodge, couldn't and made his horse slide to a stop, mere inches from Feria and Sirit. Now the rider was angry and blood was very visible in the gray's mouth. Sirit was angry and the blood seemed to reflect in his eyes and cause a rage to well up within him.
"Get out of my way boy!" The man was truly angry, but Sirit didn't care. The gray was in pain and the man was causing it and didn't care. An orange flame entered Sirit's red eyes, almost covering the crimson gaze.
"How about you start taking better care of your horse. Doing your faithful steed injury is no way to repay the times he'll save you in battle or carry you great distances without faltering. I'll move, once I see you dismount and actually look at the injury you are doing your horse." Sirit's voice was low and almost sounded as though he was a 16-year-old. He looked at the man and the stare he was giving him could bend the will of even great warriors.
The man glared and knew the boy wouldn't move, so dismounted and went to his horse's head and was rather shocked to see the blood that now mingled heavily with the white foam and dripped from the creatures chin and filled its mouth. The man stroked his horse's neck then looked up at Sirit, an actual smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"You have heart kid. Few boys of your age would stand up to a warrior, let alone do it and win their way. What's your name lad?" The man was impressed; he had to admit. This kid could become something great when he matured, who knows really.
Sirit watched the man, unsure as to whether or not to answer, but glad the man had actually realized what he had been doing. Then he felt he could say his name, but would first get a little information. "I shall tell you my name sir, if I first learn yours." No smile tugged at Sirit's youthful features, he was serious, but that orange flame had left his eyes. Feria shifted from hoof to hoof beneath him, snorting and pawing the cobbles, wanting to move again.
The rider chuckled and held onto his horse's reins with a leather-gloved hand. "I am Ekarit, rider of Elkolith, one of Katir's captain. You do know Katir, right? Lord of the horse land, Mesutil?" The man was unsure as to whether or not a boy of this age would know of this land, or its Lord.
"You are a man of Mesutil!" Sirit bowed. "I have always dreamed of going to the land of horses. My father has told me much about it. Sir Ekarit, I am Sirit, apprentice stable boy and son of Jaol."
Ekarit chuckled softly and nodded, waving a hand to say the bow was not necessary. "Yes young man. Sirit�hmmm�" Ekarit thought of this name for a moment, it seemed to remind him of a legend he had once heard, but he never believed that some boy would come and change the future of Mesutil. "Please, Sirit, may I pass now? I was sent to meet your Lord and do not want to tarry any longer than needed."
"I'll take you up to the halls sir. I was just going to go riding out in the fields, I do not mind leading you." Sirit was hopeful Ekarit wouldn't mind either. He wanted to talk to this man some more on the way and it would give him a chance to actually see the halls. He knew where they were, but had never actually seen them before.
"Hmmm�I don't know young fellow. I suppose it is Ok." With a slight grin, Ekarit swung back up onto Elkolith, now using his legs and voice to guide his horse instead of bit, knowing that the stallion was in pain. "Lead on Sirit, son of Jaol."
Sirit grinned and spun Feria around, facing her up the cobble stone road. "Follow me sir." He clucked and Feria broke into a smooth trot, Elkolith coming up alongside her where they trotted in perfect unison.
"You are a good rider Master Sirit. And you have a fine little mount under you. May I ask her name and where you may have gotten such a lovely little creature?" Ekarit was genuinely intrigued by Sirit and wanted to learn more of the young boy. He wasn't even 12 years yet, his voice was still kind of high pitch and certainly no muscle and build on the boy.
"Please sir, just Sirit, I am no master. Her name is Feria, and she belongs to the Lord, I just ride her. I'm the only one who can ride her actually. I've been riding since I was five sir, never stopped. I used to ride the harness-horses out in the fields as they went up and down rows, getting sacks or getting loads of pulled weeds for burning." He was proud he could say such things of himself. Not even in Mesutil did men ride when only five years, not alone anyway. He directed Feria with easy skill, only paying half attention to the road, knowing Feria could dodge and jump on her own were it necessary. But Sirit had never before spoken to people from any other place but his home in Wethalan. Mesutil was the place he dreamed of growing old and dying in; he disliked this land of labor, Wethalan.
"Really? The Lord allows you to ride his stock?" Ekarit looked down upon Sirit from astride Elkolith, more curious than ever now, especially since the lad was the only one who could ride Feria. "Since 5 Sirit? And how old are you?" It seemed strange to him that the Lord would allow a boy so young to ride some of the finest stock around, but maybe there was a lot more to Sirit than met the eye. But then again, those red eyes were something that easily met the eye and that color had been partially what had gotten Ekarit off his horse to check the injury he was causing. He watched as Sirit's face changed as he heard the question. An innocent yet guilty look came upon the young features and Ekarit knew the boy was going to speak of something he never had before.
"Well�ah�you see Sir�the Lord doesn't know. I have permission from the head stable hand to ride her, but the Lord doesn't even know I exist, though he will in another two or three years." He looked down and began to fiddle with a piece of Feria's mane, rather ashamed and embarrassed. "I'm ten years sir, turning 11 in about two weeks." Now a slight smile tugged at Sirit's features as he thought of his upcoming birthday. He knew he wouldn't get much, but a birthday was a birthday. Year after year, Sirit counted down the years until he was 16, counted as a man here in Wethalan. "Please, don't tell the Lord I ride his horse sir. I don't want to be punished." Now Sirit had his puppy dog look on and was begging Ekarit not to tell.
"Sirit, I shant tell the Lord, I promise to you." He put a hand to his heart as an oath and smiled. "Only 5 more years then and you're a man are you not? Hmmm�" Ekarit began thinking of something for the boy, though he barely knew him. But the boy seemed special. Ekarit knew that when he returned he would speak of this lad to Katir and perhaps the horse Lord would have something to say about it. But just as more was going to be said, they had reached the halls. The swift trotting pace of the horses had brought them quicker than they had expected.
"Here are the halls sir. Would you like me to take Elkolith to the stables and mend his injury for you?" Sirit offered his help more for the horse than for the man, but he doubted that Ekarit would accept it.
"I don't know Sirit. Elkolith isn't exactly for just anybody to handle. Most horses given to riders of Mesutil are trained and worked by only the people destined to ride them when they become warriors and men." Ekarit sighed as he watched Sirit suddenly bring forth a face of deep upset and hurt and couldn't help by comply. "Fine lad. Take Elkolith to the stables and mend his wounds for me. I shall be by at dusk to look in on him. But if I don't come, don't worry, I'm sure he'll be fine in your care." The rider grinned as Sirit took the reins that were handed to him and then turned and walked a short way into the halls, turning in the shadow to watched Sirit.
The boy didn't even ride off on Feria, leading the gray stallion. The boy leapt from Feria into the stirrup of Ekarit's saddle and swung up to sit where Ekarit had but moments before. He had no idea Ekarit was watching him, but even Ekarit was shocked. Usually any horse of Mesutil that was mounted by the wrong rider would usually buck and rear, trying to throw the man or woman, but here Elkolith stood calmly as Sirit changed horses. The young lad swung the stallion's reins about his neck and grabbed onto Feria's reins with one hand. He clucked softly and his heel dug lightly into Elkolith's sides. The gray stallion leapt forward into a brisk trot, Feria keeping up easily with strides that defied her size. But now Ekarit was very curious about this boy, and he would tell the Lord of this land about him.