See Prologue (A) for Disclaimers
Epilogue
Eleven days later.
In a house within Wood's Heart, a new life was struggling to begin.
Lavender and sorrow's-ease filled a bowl in the main room of Rhianna and Ordan's house, their soothing smell mixing with the heavy musk of childbirth. The sound of a low scream cut through the heavy-scented air, then Miren took a deep breath, trying to follow Nassia's instructions to lessen the pain that seemed to be trying to tear her in two.
Pelagia stood silent and invisible close to the birthing-chair. Miren needed those around her that she knew to trust, and her trust was not easily won, especially when it dealt with a being whose nature was probably too close to the magick of the Sorceress who had aided Zad's army throughout the girl's life. So Pelagia, goddess of healing and of mothers, left the true task of helping the girl birth her child to the midwife of Wood's Heart. Nassia was every bit as magickal as most of the inhabitants, but as a half-blooded pixie she was almost fully human in appearance, and she had nearly three decades of practice besides. Pelagia trusted her implicitly.
However, that did not mean that Pelagia would remain fully apart from the process. Her energy reached out to the girl, reassuring her subconsciously, and just as gently instructed the babe. She looked at the young woman with sympathy. Birthing a child was never an easy task, whether the mother was human or animal, but for a girl as slender as Miren, it was all the more painful. Thankfully, her hips were wide enough to both have borne the child's weight and now to allow her body to push it into the world. That was not to say, however, that it would prove an easy task. Already, they had been at this for well over seven hours.
Miren was bearing it as well as she could; she was used to pain, but by the gods, this was worse than anything she had experienced in her life among the Terrons! The pain had started with only an occasional contraction, but slowly it had grown to be these intense, soul-tearing spasms, during which her body seemed to decide to denounce every past experience as unworthy of the name "pain."
Tao sat beside and slightly behind her, one hand holding her own, while the other pressed a soothingly cool cloth to her forehead. Rhianna refreshed the bowl of water regularly to keep it cool, adding her own voice to the constant encouragement offered by both Tao and Nassia. Outside the house, the rest of Miren's new "family" was gathered -- nearly all of Wood's Heart awaited the birth with anxious and sympathetic faces. The children helped out by carting water from the brook to refill Rhianna's bowl. Kodo and Podo had managed to find a way inside, despite Nassia's best efforts; she finally let them alone when their antics proved a distraction for Miren when the contractions grew stronger. Eventually, however, all that seemed to exist for Miren was the pain.
"We're getting close now," Nassia told her after the eight hour. "You're dilated fully; the babe will be starting to pass. Now, I want you to push, all right? Just tense your upper abdomen and bear down. The baby and gravity will do the rest."
Miren nodded, noting distractedly that Tao's hand was smoothing back her sweat-dampened hair, pushing it out of her eyes. She followed Nassia's orders when they were given, bearing down as each contraction hit, cooperating with her body as it sought to push a new life out into the world. But gods it was hard! Another ten minutes, each one seeming like an hour, and still the babe waited. Miren sobbed with pain and frustration and sheer exhaustion. Her body was too small, too slender, and every second that passed seemed to drain away more of her strength. She would never admit it, but it was taking all she had just to stay conscious.
"Almost there," Nassia told her comfortingly. "I can just see the head. Just one more push, lass!"
Miren glared at her and growled through a contraction-inspired scream, "You said that three pushes ago!" But she bore down anyway, until the contraction passed and the pressure within her said that the child was still not free. Gods, it hurts! I can't do this anymore. . . "I can't," she repeated aloud. She could feel her strength fading, so quickly -- too quickly. "I can't. I'm not strong enough. . ."
Tao's voice came in her ear, his breath cooling against her fevered skin. "Yes, you are," he told her, somehow fierce despite the gentle murmur. "You are. You're the strongest person I know, Miren. So very strong. . ."
Miren gripped his hand, focusing her attention on his voice. "Tao. . ." Her voice caught on a sob. "I can't. It hurts. . ."
She felt him nod, then felt his lips, soft and gentle against the side of her forehead. "I know. I know. But you can do this, Miren. I know you can. Trust me. Trust in me. . ."
Nassia remained silent, watching them together, feeling the strength that seemed to be shared between them. She hoped it was enough; she could see the girl was beginning to falter. She was so blasted small . . . and the babe was full grown and healthy, a blessing under any other circumstances. She sent a silent prayer to Pelagia, not knowing that the goddess was already present. Trying to speak gently, she said, "Miren. I need you to push now, lass. The babe needs you to push."
"You can do it, Miren," Tao murmured. He kissed the side of her head again, smoothed the damp locks away from her skin with his free hand and gripped her hand with the other. "My brave, strong, beautiful one. You can do this . . . You can."
"Now, Miren," Nassia said. "Now. Push!"
Miren took a deep breath, feeling another contraction starting. This was a new life, she reminded herself. Her baby's life. A child conceived in pain and born into love. It deserved a chance. A thousand images poured through her mind as she recalled her journey to make it to this point, to this birthing-chair in this house in this strange, wonderful village. She had escaped from the Terron camp. She had crossed a wild forest. She had climbed treacherous rocks. She had forded the great river. She had slept under the stars. She had found friendship and love. She had danced in freedom and joy. She had done all of that, all to bring this child -- her child -- into a world where it would be free, where it would learn of love and laughter instead of pain and fear and hate. And she was damned if she was going to stop bringing it into the world now!
Miren gathered the last of her strength and pushed.
Pelagia sensed her resolve, her sheer determination, and smiled with tears in her eyes. Tao gripped Miren's hand as he felt her grasp tighten and her body tense, murmuring encouragement and praise. Nassia spoke words of encouragement, telling the girl that she could see the baby's head now as it began to emerge. Miren didn't hear any of it. All her senses were concentrated on pushing, bearing down, bringing her child into the world as her body screamed its triumph and agony.
The pain was awesome, incredible, unbearable. It drew out as she bore down with everything left within her, until finally it ended and she heard a high, thin wail break the tense air of the room. She smiled faintly, hearing Tao's voice cry out in joy, and Nassia speak words that were unintelligible as darkness settled over her exhausted mind and carried her away. Miren didn't care. Her babe was born, alive and well in the world. That was all that mattered.
She let go.
Pelagia sensed Miren's loosening consciousness even before the girl's eyes fluttered closed, before Tao's cries of joy over the newborn turned into worried queries as he felt Miren's form go limp against him. Dar and Ordan hurried through the door of the house, hearing the cries from within, and Dar rushed to see what assistance he could lend. It wasn’t much. Pelagia's breath caught as she sensed the fragile thread of Miren's life beginning to unravel. She cursed herself silently as Tao lowered Miren onto the floor, his arms cradling her as he sought to wake her.
She should have seen before, far before, that the girl's strength, however improved, would not be enough to carry her through a labor this intense. But this was not something attributed purely to her body, as it was with some unfortunate mothers. Her heart was not weak, and her body had not lost too much blood as the babe fought to emerge. This exhaustion was as much of spirit as it was of form -- and that Pelagia could do something about.
Pelagia moved forward, remaining invisible to the others in the room. She ignored the desperation in Tao's voice, ignored the fear on Dar's face as he saw a repetition of his past grief and another person he cared about seemed lost to him. She ignored the concerned questions from Rhianna and Ordan as Nassia handed the babe to them before going to aid the new mother. The goddess knelt by Miren's side, reaching out a hand to touch the girl's brow. She spun out a strand of energy, wrapped it around the faltering line that was Miren's life-force, and gently sent strength through the bond. Miren's life-force flickered, then slowly grew stronger, its iridescent inner flame brightening. Pelagia smiled and slowly pulled back.
Miren's eyelids fluttered and then opened. For a moment, she thought she saw an unfamiliar blonde woman, smiling softly at her in a maternal way. Then the vision disappeared and she saw Tao's concerned face instead. "Oh, thank the gods," he whispered fervently. He kissed her forehead, just as urgently, and Miren smiled slightly.
"What happened?" she murmured. "The baby --??"
Tao smiled at her instant worry. "The baby is fine and well," he assured her. "You -- you passed out. From exhaustion." His voice and eyes faltered for a moment, as if there was something more he wanted to say. Then he shook his head. No, she had not been near to death as he had thought, had been certain of -- she could not have woken like this if she had been. He willingly let the thought go.
Miren chuckled weakly. "Not so strong then."
Tao shook his head emphatically, saving a frowning Pelagia from having to reveal herself. "Stronger than anyone I know," he repeated. "Some might have given up before the babe was safe. And no man, no matter how brave or hardened a warrior, could ever have done what you did today."
Miren smiled slightly. Nassia's voice distracted her from further answer. "Let's get her somewhere a bit more comfortable than the floor, hmm?"
Tao smiled and nodded, shifting position and picking Miren up with an ease that startled her. She was more startled though, by the complete lack of reaction to the clearly messy state of her dress. She smiled softly to herself as she wrapped her arms about the Eiron's neck and let him carry her to the bed in the corner. Once there, Tao and Dar arranged her comfortably, until she was half-sitting, propped by the gathered cushions. Tao laid a gentle kiss on her forehead before standing back for Nassia's approach, joining Dar who already stood like a proud uncle.
Miren's gaze went to the midwife as Nassia approached the bed, a squirming, carefully wrapped bundle in her arms. "Miren," Nassia said with a smile. "Would you like to meet your son?"
Miren's eyes widened. "My . . . son?" she repeated. Nassia smiled and nodded, then carefully handed the bundle over to the new mother. Miren took it almost gingerly, suddenly unsure of herself. Once she looked down into the tiny face, about which two equally tiny fists tested the air, however, all her uncertainties vanished. "My son," she repeated, a different note in her voice now. She raised one hand from its position cradling the babe and reached a wondering finger to stroke the newborn's cheek. "My son," she said again, smiling even as tears gathered and spilled unnoticed from her eyes.
Tao pushed back tears of his own; Rhianna and Pelagia didn't bother. Dar and Ordan just stood back and smiled. The Eiron scholar sat down beside the bed and peered down at the small newborn face. Rhianna and Ordan had cleaned the babe while he, Dar and Nassia had worried over Miren. The child's fair skin was splotched with healthy pink and red, and he already a dark thatch of hair on his head. Tao smiled. "He's beautiful," he said softly.
Miren nodded. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the wonder of her baby's face. All this time, this little one had been within her. Suddenly, it all seemed so very worth it. "I wish I knew my mother's tongue," she murmured.
"Why?" Tao asked.
"To name him."
Miren's voice was soft, wistful and sad. Pelagia smiled softly where she stood, still invisible, and cast her gaze through layers of reality. She smiled at what she found: as she had thought, she was not the only one who had been watching over this girl. But this one had been here far longer -- she had simply been unable to ever act.
Would you like to?, Pelagia asked the other spirit.
The translucent figure blinked in startlement and looked at her, aware for the first time of her, though not of her importance. Indeed, Aitenyia of the Kintiri knew her well. Pelagia was known by many names, in many places, and this was not the first time she had seen Miren: she had been there when Aitenyia brought the girl into the world and named her daughter for the quality she would most need in her life.
This spirit was that of the Kintiri woman who had been priestess and beloved wife before the Terrons destroyed her world, who had never lost hope or courage. And though she had lost her life to Zad's uncaring hands one brutal night, her breath strangled by his angry hands as he took her body, she had never left her daughter's side. Now she looked at the shining goddess and nodded slowly. Please, she whispered.
Pelagia smiled and reached for a different strand of energy, this one part of the curtain that hid one plane of existence from another. It would not last long . . . but it would be enough.
Miren, unaware of any of the strange interaction, said softly, "I know that my name means 'survivor', and I was named truly." She sighed and touched the babe's cheek again, smiling almost without knowing it as she regarded her tiny son. "If I could," she told Tao, "I would give him the name 'chance' in Kintiri. That's what he has, and what he is. A chance. A beautiful, wonderful chance."
Lleyr. . .
Miren frowned. The word had been like a whisper, the softest breeze against her mind's ear. She looked at Tao, but she knew he had not been the source of the word. Her gaze went to Nassia and Rhianna, but neither of them looked as if they had spoken either.
Again, the word came. Lleyr.
It was stronger now, and definitely feminine. Ignoring Tao and Dar's slightly confused looks, she looked around the room, seeking the source. She found it a few feet away, standing on the other side of the bed. A woman with black hair that flowed about her shoulders, adorned with slender braids and white ribbon that matched the simple sheathe-dress she wore. She was fair-skinned and beautiful almost beyond description. She smiled softly and Miren suddenly felt a sense of familiarity.
Her lips moving almost dreamlike, slightly out of sequence, the woman said, The Kintiri word for chance is "lleyr."
Miren's breath caught. She knew that voice. She remembered it, hidden deep within half-buried memories of lullabies and soothing words: a voice that had been lost to her when she was little more than a toddler. But she remembered.
Aitenyia of the Kintiri, named for the concept of "shining laughter," smiled and nodded as Miren's eyes widened. You have named him well, my daughter. Lleyr is a fine name for your little one, just as Miren was for you. But remember this: the Kintiri always had two names. One for the tribe, the other for what is their Self.
Miren nodded, distantly aware that Tao was asking if she was alright. She was feeling too overwhelmed by the experience to do more than take it calmly. "Two names . . .," she whispered, inaudible except to the spirit.
Aitenyia nodded. As you have learned in these months, you are much more than just miren, a survivor. Tears seemed to shine in the spirit's eyes as she said, I named you twice, my love. Your other name is Asilisiane -- "beautiful courage." Miren smiled, tears gathering in her eyes as well. Aitenyia came as close to the bed as she could, her form already fading. I wish I had been able to tell you that sooner, my precious love. And so much more. But know it now, my daughter. And know that I am so very proud of you. I love you, my precious daughter. And I will watch over you and my grandson. Always.
And then she was gone, her spirit fading from view like a rainbow from the sky. Miren watched her disappear, and felt her presence still touching her mind. Then that too was gone as the veil between worlds reestablished itself. Miren felt tears slip down her cheeks and finally turned back to face Tao, who was frowning. "Lleyr," she said. "Kintiri for 'chance' is Lleyr. That is his name."
Tao frowned slightly, but it was Rhianna who asked, "How do you know this?"
Miren smiled softly and glanced at the empty space where her mother had stood. "My mother told me," she said simply. She was too tired to try to think of anything but the truth. Thankfully, each person in the room had seen too much in their own lives to wonder.
"Lleyr," Tao repeated instead. "It's a beautiful name."
Miren smiled and nodded, looking once more to her son. "Yes," she said. She hesitated a moment, then said, "Kintiri bear two names. One for the tribe, and one for what is their Self." She looked up again, her eyes meeting Tao's, and she said softly, "I would like you to choose his second name."
Tao's eyes widened. "Me?" Miren nodded. In the corner where he had settled himself, Dar smiled. The young Eiron stammered for a moment before firmly closing his mouth and setting his mind to thinking. Finally, he said carefully, "There is a word in the old Eiron tongue . . . the one the scholars use . . . Enulàré. It means 'bringer of hope'."
Miren smiled. "Enulàré," she repeated. "So he is named."
Dar grinned in the background, almost proud enough to seem to have named the child himself. Ordan met his gaze with an amused smile, then looked at Rhianna. In the past eleven days, they had worked out many things between them -- all of which had come from Ordan breaking his silence and approaching his love. Now, looking at his soon-to-be-wife and then at the young woman who would be sharing their home, he felt truly as if a new day was beginning.
Pelagia watched the group with much the same sense of blossoming hope. Truly, Tao had named the child as well as Miren had. He was a bringer of hope, and of second chances. Dar and Tao, she knew, planned on returning to Wood's Heart as soon as Dar's quest for Kyra permitted (something Pelagia fully intended to help along). Tao might not have been either the baby's father or Miren's paramour, but the connection between all of the travelers was clear. They were a family, regardless of blood-line or distance.
Dar approached the bed and added his own commentary on the newborn, letting the animals see through his eyes this time. The goddess smiled as she watched them all together, then slowly twinkled out of place. Soon, Pelagia decided silently. By a god's standards if not a mortal's, but soon, she would see to it that they all found what they sought. This new life in the world was only the beginning.
The End
Till We Are Called to Rise ('Missing Scene' from "Breath")
The Other Side of the Coin (Next Story in the Series)
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