Timeless Grace
“I saw blood staining her trousers,” Peri explained to Lieutenant Janes. “I thought it might be her time of the month.”
Alton, too numb to speak, barely heard the conversation. He could only stare at Estral’s tent where Mender Kane tended her within. Why hadn’t she told him she was carrying their child? He recalled how pensive and withdrawn she’d become. How long had she known?
“Why?” he murmured to himself.
Duncan must have overheard and divined exactly what Alton was questioning, for he said, “She had not known for long, and wanted to tell you at the right moment.”
Alton rounded on the mage. “ You knew?”
“I guessed, and she confirmed. It was while you were still trapped in the wall. You know, she was beyond upset you were stuck in there, same as you when she was.”
Alton closed his eyes. “I know. You shouldn’t have let her touch the wall.”
“Hah! As if I could have stopped her. You are both determined fools in love.”
The mage had a point.
“She will be well,” Duncan reassured him.
She better be, Alton thought. He gazed upward.
Clouds had begun to obscure the moon and the stars.
The constellation of the horse, however, still galloped free across the heavens.
Not one to pray, he sent a small prayer to Aeryc.
He did not know how to feel about the child that would never be.
It was all too much of a shock. He had hoped one day to have little heirs playing about his feet but hadn’t even considered children in the present.
The loss of this one was probably for the best. It was not a good time to bring a child into the world with Mornhavon’s shadow growing.
At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself.
Yet, the regret of losing what could have been weighed on him.
Mender Kane emerged from the tent with his satchel of instruments and medicines, and strode to Alton.
“She’ll be fine physically,” the mender said, “but emotionally, a miscarriage can hit hard, and not just the mother.” He paused.
“I’ve dosed Lady Fiori so she can sleep peacefully, but you may go see her.
If you need any assistance, do not hesitate to send for me. ”
Alton entered the tent. A lantern at low glow hung from one of the tent poles and limned Estral’s form curled beneath her blankets.
He pulled a camp chair to the side of her cot. “Estral?”
“I’m awake,” she said drowsily, without opening her eyes. “For the moment.”
He brushed strands of hair out of her face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“It happens. You get your voice back, you lose your baby.”
“Estral—”
“I’m fine,” she said in a faint voice. Her body beneath her covers relaxed, and she breathed deeply and evenly. She’d fallen asleep just like that.
Alton settled in to keep watch.
· · ·
He awoke with a start, confused as to where he was.
He’d been sleeping in the camp chair with his head nestled on Estral’s cot.
He shook off his grogginess, only to realize the cot was empty.
He stepped out into the gray morning light and yawned.
Steam flowed from his lips and he shivered.
The sky burgeoned with clouds and he thought he could smell snow in the air.
Few were up and about, but Estral was not by the cookfire or the larger watchfire.
A soldier warming his hands over the watchfire said, “Your lady is by the wall, sir.”
This information jolted him to full alert. He ran to the wall, where he found her sitting on the ground, her back rest ing against stone. He stopped in his tracks when he heard gentle strains of a song. Was she singing to herself, or to the wall?
“Estral?”
When she did not respond, he stepped closer and heard the words of a lullaby.
Sleep beneath the moon, little one
sleep beneath the stars
When the heavens shine above
fear is cast afar
Come dawn the birds will sing
beneath the rising sun
My little one will wake again
when morning has begun
He sat beside her on the cold damp ground. Still, she did not acknowledge him. Her eyes were closed as she sang; then she hummed the melody. It was several seconds after her voice faded that she finally opened her eyes and smiled at him. He did not expect the smile.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
“I am very well.”
There was a stillness about her, a groundedness and a sense of peace.
“You were singing a lullaby,” he said. “My nurse used to sing one like it.”
“Yes. I wanted our son to know he’ll always be loved.”
“Our . . . ?”
“The spirit that would have been our son.”
Our son, our son . . . Unexpected feelings of loss mounted into waves of anger, for anger was swift and easier to bear. He recalled the Voice of Voices stating, We require innocent blood. He had thought she meant Marc.
“They took our son?” His throttled whisper might as well have been a roar.
The guardians had claimed their sacrifice.
Before he could unleash his fury, she took him into her arms. Firmly she held him.
“He will always be with us,” she murmured. “I love you.” She continued speaking words of comfort and reassurance and love, and slowly his need to lash out eased, but did not abate entirely.
“How can you not be angry?” he asked, marveling at her calm. “They took him from us—he’s really our son?”
She released him and sat back, though she hung onto his hands. “I have communicated with the Voice of Voices for some time this morning and have received impressions from his spirit. The Voice told me he would not have survived to term, and that his spirit agreed to reside with the guardians.”
“She’s lying.” His anger rose again. “They wanted a sacrifice.”
“They did, but she’s not lying. He wanted to stay if he couldn’t be with us. He wants the wall to stand strong as any Deyer would wish. As his father would wish.”
This broke Alton. He choked and sobbed, anger abruptly turning to grief. She drew him into her arms again and softly sang the lullaby to soothe him. It only brought a torrent of tears.
When he mastered himself, he wiped his eyes and nose with his sleeve.
“The guardians have surrounded him with love and song,” she told him.
“But he’s trapped in there.”
She nodded. “Yes, for as long as the wall stands as an etheric edifice. One day, however, it will crumble and pass, and will be barely a memory, as with all things. When that time comes, his spirit will be released along with all the guardians. If it helps, they do not feel time.”
It still didn’t sit right with him, but she squeezed his hand. “Would you like to meet him?” she asked.
“I can do that?”
“Place your hand against the wall as you normally would and sing the song of the guardians. I think he will be excited to meet you.”
Alton did as she instructed. Unlike his experience of the previous day, he was not sucked into the wall, nor did his consciousness transfer within, but the song thrummed inside him.
It was a sort of typical communion with the wall, and he almost removed his hand in disappointment, but suddenly he detected a new, clear, and young voice that carried nuances of Estral’s.
Vibrant, happy notes flowed into Alton, and tears welled in his eyes again.
The stone warmed beneath his palm as though he actually touched his son, and it filled him with love.
The spirit that would have been his son reassured him he’d always be there, that he was proud to help keep the wall strong.
Alton did his best to emanate his own pride and love in return. When he was done, he sagged.
“I’m wrung out,” he told Estral.
Flurries started tumbling from the sky in big, fat flakes.
“I understand. It will take time for both of us to make sense of it all, and we may always grieve for what might have been, but the world and our own lives go on. The guardians may exist in timeless grace, but we haven’t that luxury.
” Snowflakes caught in her hair, on her eyelashes.
“We must do something about the spells in Tower of the Earth, or everything we’ve just been through, the sacrifice of our son’s spirit, will be for naught. ”