Chapter 45 Saurin
Saurin
The air does not change.
It stays close, thick with heat from the small fire and the smell of blood that has nowhere to go.
Time loses its edges down here. There is no sky to measure it against, no shift in light, only the slow drag of pain and the weight of it pressing through my body again and again until everything else falls away.
Hours pass. I know they do because the fire burns lower and is fed again, because the sounds above change, the force of them dulling into something farther away, less immediate but no less present. Because my body grows weaker beneath it all, each movement costing more than it should.
It is fully dark now, the kind that presses against the eyes even when they are open.
The woman lifts my head carefully and brings a cup to my mouth. "Small sips," she says, and I do as she says because I cannot do anything else. The water barely stays down. My throat burns when I swallow.
"What is your name?” I ask, my voice thinner than I expect.
She hesitates. "Saurin."
I nod once. "Was that your mother?" I ask after a moment.
She shakes her head. "No. My family is long dead. I escaped when my village was attacked and came across the cabin. She was already here and allowed me to stay." Her breath leaves her slowly. "She was a friend. I was not alone."
I understand that.
More pain comes, building faster now, stacking on itself, leaving no space between. My body is slick with sweat despite the cold still lingering beneath me, my hands slipping when I try to brace against the ground.
Saurin watches me closely. "Dialan was a midwife," she says after a moment. "I do not have that skill. Only what I saw in the village." She swallows. "But I know that you have labored too long. You are getting more pale. Your wound is still bleeding."
I feel it. I do not look at it.
"The child must come," she says. "Or you will not survive to see it."
My hand finds hers. "You must use the magic."
She pulls back immediately, her hands trembling. "No. No, I have never done that. I cannot—"
"Please."
The word comes through me with what little strength I have left. “Please,” I say again.
She stares at me and I hold her gaze.
"Do you know how to do it?" I ask.
"I have only seen it done," she says. "I have never done it myself. I only know that it is painful. That many do not survive it."
I close my eyes briefly. "There are two. You must retrieve both of them." Another wave tears through me and I grip her harder. "Even if I am not awake."
She nods slowly.
"You must stay and wait for my husband," I continue, my throat tightening around the next words.
"If he does not come, someone will. The Avanki will search for us when we do not appear.
They will retrace our steps and find this place.
" I look at her. "They will come. They will bring you to safety.
Tell them I asked that you be their nursemaid. "
She stares at me. "Who are you?"
"I am Asharin," I say quietly. "Queen heir of Alarna. Princess of Veynar." Another wave hits, harder. "We were heading to Shalvar. It is heavily warded. The children are powerful. Anyone loyal to us will protect them, but many will want to harm—"
The pain tears through me so violently it breaks the words apart.
I scream.
Blood fills my mouth and spills forward as I choke on it, my body folding into itself as the force of it rips through my abdomen and deeper. It is everywhere now, the wound, the blood, the heat and the cold fighting through me at once.
At the stair the Morrak hisses, the sound cutting through everything.
I lose myself for a moment. The world goes dark.
"Asharin. Asharin—"
Saurin's voice pulls me back. She is above me, her hands shaking as she tries to hold me in place.
I smile. It takes more effort than anything else.
"I know you will do it right," I say.
She shakes her head, panic breaking through what little control she had left. "I cannot—"
"You can," I say. "Do it. Please. Before it is too late."
My hand lifts weakly to my neck and I find them by touch. "The pendant," I say, my fingers brushing it. "For the first child." I move lower. "The ring. For the second."
She nods, her lips moving as she tries to steady herself. Then she closes her eyes, murmurs something under her breath, and her hands move to my abdomen.
The magic begins slowly. It pulls at me first, and then it opens.
The sensation goes deeper than pain alone, stretching into something that forces a sound from me before I can stop it, my body arching against it as it tears through with a precision that does not lessen what it does. I cannot hold still. I cannot stop it.
Through blurred vision I see movement. Something small. Pink. A hand.
I try to speak. Nothing comes.
There is blood everywhere. Saurin is saying something but I cannot follow it, her voice breaking between words as she works, her hands moving faster, the magic pulling deeper, wider.
A sound cuts through it all, high and clear.
The wail of a child. I hold onto it with everything I have left. Just hold on, I tell myself. Just hold on for the second cry.
The pain comes again, stronger and deeper. I feel movement, more than before, another presence, another shift, though there is no cry that follows it. I see something through the blur. A foot, and this one is not pink.
The world begins to fade.
Everything pulls away at once, the sound, the pain, the heat, the blood, and I let it, just for a moment, just long enough.
Then everything disappears.