“If we underestimate them, it is always our own failure,” Ahaesarus said. Judarius glanced back at Harruq, shook his head, and then continued on without saying a word.
“I’m sorry,” Harruq said as Ahaesarus approached and the rest of the angels dispersed. “Didn’t mean to upset him.”
“Just as we need to learn of you, you need to learn of us,” Ahaesarus said. “We are not perfect. We have pride and anger and doubt like we did when we served Ashhur on Dezrel. Judarius needed a bit of humbling.”
Ahaesarus led him back to Aurelia and Tarlak, who sat waiting by the fire.
“Now that was great,” Tarlak said, a giant grin on his face. “You did us human types proud.”
“We’re but soldiers made for battle,” Ahaesarus said. “So forgive us if your creature comforts are lacking, and the food poor. It doesn’t appear we will catch the demons. If we cannot gain ground, we will slow our pace and link up with Antonil’s army.”
“It seems that will be the case,” Tarlak said. “Where’d the paladins run off to, by the way?”
Ahaesarus chuckled. “They are discussing what you would refer to as theology with Azariah. I would stay away if I were you.”
“Not much for the particulars?” Tarlak asked. Instead Ahaesarus shook his head and patted his sword.
“Ashhur has given me people to protect and a sword to protect them with,” the angel said. “For me, that is enough.”
20
Q urrah hurried throughout the camp, doing his best to find comforts that weren’t there. Pillows, blankets, even torn cloaks would do. He looked wearied and feverish, his skin pale and his shoulders stooped.
“She still has weeks before she will be give birth,” Velixar said as he watched Qurrah search through their supplies. “There is no need to panic.”
“The months have been hard on her,” Qurrah said, shaking his head. “Traveling night and day, hanging from the arms of demons, all because we cannot rest, cannot slow.”
“She is a strong woman. And Veldaren is not far. Just a few more days, Qurrah, she can last that long.”
“No!” Qurrah shouted. He turned and gestured to the surrounding forest, the trees blooming with orange flowers and thick, wide leaves. “Here. We stay here.”
The man in black crossed his arms. His shifting face narrowed in the center, as if his entire being were focused where he glared.
“You will be vulnerable,” said Velixar. “We have not made it this far for you to be ambushed now.”
“Harruq’s pets are miles away,” Qurrah said. “And it doesn’t matter. Months left or not, our child is coming soon. Tess knows it, and I trust her. Now please, out of my way.”
Velixar stepped aside. As Qurrah hurried past, Velixar pulled his hood low and looked away.
“I will be near,” he said. “There is an old altar to Karak a mile north, following the creek upstream. I will pray for you both.”
“Thank you,” Qurrah said, his entire body sagging as if hundreds of men clung to his back and limbs. “But we won’t need it.”
The demon army took flight as the sun set, leaving Qurrah alone in the sudden silence. To him, it was a great relief. Solitude was something he craved, and for months, solitude was the one thing he had been denied during their flight across Dezrel. But now they were alone, just he and Tessanna.
“Finally,” Qurrah whispered.
Deeper into the forest the trees closed together, as if their trunks and roots intertwined, making them one being. Tessanna lay against one such tree with two trunks, a few thin blankets underneath her swollen form. Sweat poured down her face.
“Not ready,” Tessanna said as she saw his approach.
“You will do fine,” Qurrah said, laying a cloak across her body as she shivered in the cool night air.
“Not me,” she said, then winced as an enormous cramp filled her abdomen. She closed her eyes and clawed the grass. Qurrah watched, a horrible sickness in his chest. His beloved was suffering, and there was nothing he could do to ease the pain. Nothing he could do to quicken the experience. He could only remain at her side, impotent, worthless.
No, he thought as Tessanna grabbed his hand and held on as if her whole body were falling from him. He wasn’t worthless. He was needed, desperately so. He put both his hands around hers, and when her pain subsided he allowed himself to smile.
“You will be a good mother,” he said to her.
“And you’ll be a horrible father,” she said, aware enough in her exhaustion to crack a smile. “Get me something to bite. This is only going to get worse.”
He found her a stick, used his dagger to carve off the crumbly outer layer, and then handed it to her. She bit down on the center, breathed deep, and then moaned as another wave of pain flooded through her abdomen. Qurrah held her hand, stroked her face, and kept silent, wishing again and again he could ease her pain.
An hour passed. He checked her only once, and saw nothing resembling a baby. Her cramps worsened, and it seemed she clung to life by a single, vicious thread of pain and determination. Every wave she leaned forward, tears flowing from her eyes as she moaned and screamed and pushed. Every wave he thought she would die, her tiny frame breaking under the stress. But she was strong, so much stronger than he had ever given her credit for.
Another hour passed. He checked her, and saw what he thought was a head. He kissed her fingers and told her.
“I know,” Tessanna said between deep, labored breaths. “I can feel her when I push.”
“Her?” Qurrah asked, a tiny smile pulling at his lips.
“I know it’s a her,” she said, leaning back and trying to relax even as her lower back throbbed in agony. “I just know.”
The night deepened. Every few minutes her screams pierced the silence. Tessanna felt the baby’s shoulders push through. The pain was beyond immense. The pain was everything. Blood poured out of her. Qurrah knelt at her feet, a blanket in his hands. She had to be close, she had to be. Her body couldn’t take anymore. She felt herself tearing. The contractions worsened. She pushed and pushed.
“Get it out of me,” she sobbed, her dark hair matted to her face.
“One more,” Qurrah said, same as always. “Just one more.”
She gave him one more. She pushed, and Qurrah cried out as he saw the child’s head push through. Fluids rushed over his hands, but he didn’t care. He grabbed the little form and pulled.
“A girl,” Qurrah said as he lifted her to his chest. The forest turned silent but for Tessanna’s gasps of air. The silence turned cold.
“Qurrah?” Tessanna said, trying to sit up but unable to muster the strength. “Qurrah? Say something!”
The child wasn’t moving.
Qurrah used his dagger to cut the umbilical cord, then dropped it. He put his finger into the baby’s mouth, clearing out what he could see, but it didn’t matter. He held no life. He held a shell. He stroked the girl’s face with a trembling hand. Her eyes were closed. Her nose was scrunched against her face from the birth. Red splotches covered her slimy pink skin. But she was beautiful. And she was stillborn.
“Qurrah!” Tessanna cried amid a deep sob.
“You bastard,” Qurrah whispered, tears pouring down his cheeks. “How dare you? How dare you…”
“Give her to me,” Tessanna screamed. Qurrah wrapped the body in a cloak and handed it over. Tessanna clung the child to her chest, weeping. Qurrah stood, his whole body shaking, his heart swirling with too many emotions to understand. Above it all, above the pain and the betrayal, he felt anger.
“He promised us a life,” Qurrah said. “He promised.”
He gestured to their child.
“Is this the promise of Karak?”
“Don’t leave me,” Tessanna said between wracking sobs. “Please, don’t leave me.”
He knelt beside her, and into his pale, shriveled hands he took the baby’s small fingers. The pain inside him seemed unbearable. The sense of loss, beyond anything.
“What have I done to you, brother?” he dared ask. “Is this it?”