Takeo's Chronicles, page 92
Takeo was taken aback, and were it not for ingrained manners drilled into him so long ago, he might not have responded so quickly.
“I’m sorry, too,” the words fell out. “I never stopped to think consider your point of view, only mine. I should have been more considerate.”
They shared a silence, minus the droning thunder of falling boulders and the slow grumble of their empty stomachs. If Takeo had known this was their last night in that fort together, he might have taken the time to appreciate it, too.
Chapter 29
The one thing Takeo never expected was to have trouble sleeping. Hunger, exhaustion, the slow drum of his body withering away—all should lull him into effortless slumber. Up until that last night, Takeo had enjoyed plenty such evenings, as it was the only time when he couldn’t feel constant stomach pains. Not the last night, though, and he didn’t even know it would be the last night.
Takeo tossed and turned on the stone floor, thinking maybe he was just uncomfortable. He curled up on blankets, used empty ration sacks as pillows, and even took off his clothes thinking perhaps he was warm. He tried to blame the constant thundering the siege, but that wasn’t the problem. Those sounds bothered no one anymore, so constant was their drone and so magnifying was the feminine. Every time Takeo tossed, he touched his sword by chance, and a rush of fire swept through him to breathe new life into his restlessness. He never contemplated removing it, however. That wasn't an option.
But then the most miraculous thing happened. Somewhere in dead of night, the thundering siege stopped, and Takeo feared the enemy had broken through, but then he passed out from exhaustion. He awoke not long after before the sun had risen, and it was if he’d done nothing more than doze off on guard duty. His bones ached, his muscles were stiff, and his neck hurt. The whole place was silent, and he dragged rather than walked down the hallways, inspecting the fort to be sure no walls had been breached. He wondered what made the Katsu forces stop, but couldn’t be bothered at the moment. He made for the well, drew up a bucket, and dumped its entire contents over his head.
That helped a little.
He contemplated doing a second, and then searching the fort again, but hadn’t the energy for either. With some effort, he carried his soaking body off toward the center of the fort, intending on looking up at what made the siege stop. To his surprise, he found Kuniko and all the others were still crowded into that one room, sitting still, legs crossed, and eyes closed in silent meditation.
They were arranged in a circle now, three layers deep, and in the center of the circle lay the stacked bodies of Lord Eun and Chet.
Takeo snapped to attention and his draw dropped open. Despite his best intentions, he singled out Kuniko and raised his voice, “What are you all still doing here? Did any of you sleep?”
“Would you have us sleep now, my lord?” Kuniko replied, eyes still closed.
“I would have you well rested,” Takeo said. “If you’re tired, sleep. Don’t fight it. I don’t know what you’re doing—in fact, at this point, I don’t even care—but don’t wear yourself out before the battle comes.”
None of them flinched, and Kuniko’s reply came soft and strong. “We are following in your footsteps, my lord. We wish to be strong like you, and we realize that in order to do this, we must become masters of ourselves. Only then can we be truly free, as you are.”
Takeo only heard about half of what she was saying. It was too early, he was too tired, too hungry, and the daze over his consciousness too strong. He mumbled something about not calling him a lord, while a nagging sensation told him something was very wrong, but he just couldn’t be bothered to investigate it. He shouldn't have to. His life wasn’t supposed to end this way. Hadn’t the senin said so? That Takeo wouldn’t die by anyone’s hand but Gavin’s?
What a load of dung, Takeo thought. I should have killed that senin, just like I did its yuki-onna guard. What good are all-seeing beings that do nothing with their power? Useless, that’s what they are. A threat to humanity. Like rakshasas.
He felt better just thinking that for some reason, until he noticed familiar warmth spreading through his veins. He looked down and saw he’d grabbed his sword at some point.
Huh? I don’t remember doing that.
He shook his hand free and climbed up the ladder. He poked his head out carefully to scan the horizon. When he didn’t see any arrows, spears, or boulders raining down on him, he climbed out completely.
It’s so quiet now. What’s happening?
Takeo looked out to see siege equipment all around being turned and moved. Engineering crews were pulling up ropes and tugging here and there to pull the heavy weapons across the battlefield. Some were going one way, others another, and Takeo wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at. They seemed to be grouping the equipment up, but not all in one area as far as he could tell. He scowled.
“What are you planning now, Botan?” he whispered into the wind.
“Help!” came a muffled shout from below. “Takeo! Nicholas! Krunk! Someone, anyone?”
It took Takeo half a second to recognize Gavin’s voice before grabbing the ladder and flying down to the ground. His feet slammed onto stone, and he sprinted down the hall, his inhuman speed was brought to bear. Gavin cried again in a panic, and Takeo ran at such a pace that he slammed into walls as he turned sharp corners. As he got closer, he heard loud, painful moans coming from Yeira.
He dashed down the last hallway to Gavin’s room, the door flung open while cracks in the ceiling and walls let in streams of morning light. Yeira was on her hands and knees, swollen belly hanging free below, and moaning and rocking back and forth. Gavin was standing over her, hands on her back, lips close as if he’d just been whispering to her, but then looked up as Takeo burst into view.
“Takeo!” Gavin said, face pale. “It’s happening. I think it’s happening!”
“What? No. How?” the samurai replied. “It’s too soon. Far too soon.”
“I don’t want to do this,” Yeira cried, tears falling from her eyes. “Oh please, no. I don’t want to do this.”
“I’m so sorry, my love, but I don’t think you have a choice,” Gavin cooed to her and rubbed her shoulders. Then he turned to Takeo, face serious once more. “It’s the hunger, I think, and the stress. I don’t know, her stomach is hot to the touch. I don’t know much about this. We learned about it, but I’ve only delivered once, and not the natural way.”
“Once?” Takeo stammered. “When?”
“Back in Lucifan,” Gavin answered as if Takeo knew perfectly well not to ask such a ridiculous question. The knight pointed at the scar on his cheek. “It’s when I got this.”
At that moment, Nicholas arrived, huffing and heaving into view. Seeing Takeo standing in the doorway, he seemed relieved at first, up until he looked into the room and recoiled.
“By Valhalla,” the viking gaped. “Is she doing it?”
“Oh no, here it comes again,” Yeira said, following up the cry with a low moan and heavy breathing.
“It’s called labor, Nicholas,” Gavin answered as he began rubbing Yeira’s back. “She must have slept through the early parts in the night, hunger-induced exhaustion blocking out the pain. She’s going through contractions too fast. What are you two just standing there for? Did you not hear me? Our baby is coming. Do something!”
Yeira stopped her tiny shudders and sighed with relief, sucking in a huge breath of steady air.
Nicholas looked helplessly from Yeira to Gavin to Takeo.
“What do I do?” the viking stammered.
“Yes, how can we help?” Takeo followed up.
“Blankets. Clothes,” Yeira forced out, one word at a time. “Water. Please. Oh, not again. Ah!”
She grunted and tensed, doubling over. Takeo and Nicholas tried to take off at the same time in opposite directions and bounced off one another. Krunk came running down the hall at the same time, but Takeo just pointed at the room and ran for the well. As he pulled up a bucket, Krunk caught up with him.
“It’s coming, it’s coming,” the ogre repeated, taking the pale of water from Takeo, grinning wide. “It’s happy times.”
Takeo didn’t reply, not even to force a smile. He couldn’t bring himself to curb the ogre’s enthusiasm. He couldn’t say it out loud that although he knew little about babies, he knew enough that early births were not a cause for celebration. Not only was childbirth exceptionally dangerous for the mothers, but at such an early time, things didn’t work out so well for the newborn.
If we’re lucky, we’ll only be digging one grave tonight, and it will be a small one.
“Go,” was all Takeo could say before grabbing another bucket and lowering it down the well. Krunk took off, so eager he spilled half the water he carried.
Takeo made it back, clearly the last one, to see Borota had come to see what the ruckus was about. The oni filled the hallway, looking mildly curious at the cries and moans that flooded out at him. Takeo's blood rushed hot, and he barreled by the red giant to deliver the second pale of water. Yeira was on her side now, and Gavin was stripping her clothes off, while Nicholas shoved those clothes into places directed by Gavin, propping Yeira up. Krunk looked on with eyes wide and hands clasped.
Takeo turned on Borota and jerked his head to the side. “You’ve seen enough. Go.”
The oni smiled, showing off his huge canines. “Why is that? Can’t I watch?”
“This is a private matter that doesn’t concern you or your kind,” Takeo answered. “Unless you were given permission to stay.”
“No,” Yeira said between pained gasps.
“We told him to leave,” Gavin spoke up, “but all he said was to make him.”
Takeo looked over his shoulder at them, then caught the oni’s gaze. He reached a hand slowly, deliberately towards his sword.
“Is that so?” Takeo whispered.
Borota’s grin disappeared. “It’s my duty to watch you.”
“You won’t be able to watch so well if I carve your eyes out,” Takeo replied, fingers running down the length of his katana. “Because that’s the only way I’ll permit you to stay. I’ll say it only one more time. You’ve seen enough.”
The oni snarled and stood a few defiant seconds before trudging off. Takeo slammed the door shut.
“Thank you,” Gavin said, sighing.
“Ah! No, no,” Yeira started again. “Oh it hurts. It hurts.”
The knight was instantly upon her, gripping her hand and whispering to her gently.
“Don’t fight it, relax,” he said. “You can do this.”
Yeira tensed anyway, or so it seemed to Takeo, for far too long as he could tell. She stopped breathing, but then with a sudden gush, released the air and slumped into Nicholas’ arms. She glared at Gavin with eyes only, the rest of her too exhausted to take up any hostile action.
“You don’t think I know that?” she snapped. “Do you know how many women I watched give birth in Savara? My captor forced motherhood onto any woman too pretty and young to cross his path. I’ve seen this all before. I know. I know what’s—ah! AH!”
“Krunk!” Gavin shouted. “The other leg. Help!”
The ogre scampered over and grabbed Yeira’s free leg, but not knowing what to do, held it like an awkward weapon and stared dumbfounded at Yeira’s midsection.
“It’s moving,” Krunk said. “Her stomach is moving.”
“Just help her hold her leg back,” Gavin responded, and they held her open as Yeira’s moans turned to screams, and Takeo tensed so hard he started to sweat. He felt helpless beyond belief, and found the feeling not unlike watching someone die. He felt there was nothing he could do, nothing in the slightest, and that his entire presence at this point was a complete waste. He knew he should offer help, but he feared getting involved, that doing so might only delay the inevitable, and when all was said and done, he’d have played a futile role in the coming tragedy.
The pain subsided, and Yeira collapsed again.
“Water,” she mumbled.
“Takeo!” Gavin commanded. “Get some water and a cloth. No cup, don’t bother. She only needs a little.”
His hand forced, Takeo did as he was told. He grabbed a cloth and dumped it into one pail, then rung it out along Yeira’s figure. First in her mouth to sake her thirst, and then down her belly and on her forehead. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing or not, only that this is what one ought to do to any patient on the battlefield, slowly dying from their wounds.
“I’m pushing,” Yeira said, in a panic, panting with tears streaming down her face.
“Wait, so soon? No, not yet,” Gavin replied. “I don’t think—”
“Ahh!” Yeira grunted, and the hand gripping Gavin’s went bone white.
Right then, a thunderous crash vibrated throughout the fort, and the floor and walls shook from the impact. Then another and another and another, and the fort became an orchestra of discord as it rumbled like an earthquake. Yeira screamed through it, then went limp again, and Nicholas shouted over the uproar.
“What’s going on?” the viking roared to be heard. “When did they stop? I didn’t even notice they’d stopped.”
“I don’t know,” Takeo shouted back. “They changed something. I saw them.”
Yeira let out another howl, deadened into the fort’s eternal quaking, and yet sharp enough to make Takeo wince.
“Yeira! You have to relax,” Gavin shouted, but he was hardly heard over the clamor.
The Katsu forces seemed to be throwing everything at them, the boulders coming one right after the other in a continuous pounding that sent tremors up Takeo’s legs. His teeth shatter things shook so much, and the roar was deafening. He went to dip the cloth again, but the bucket was dancing and flinging water about, and he plunged his whole arm down to soak the cloth. He ran it over her again, but Yeira slapped his hand away. He and glanced at her, only to find her gaze burning with anger and pain that was directed straight at him. As Nicholas propped her up, Gavin held her hand, and Krunk held her leg. She grunted and scream, but held her scornful on Takeo, as if he were the one stabbing her directly. He could do nothing but stare back, transfixed in her long moment of torment until the contraction subsided.
She said something and then fell into Nicholas’ arms, but the words couldn’t be heard over the siege. Yet, Takeo read them on her lips anyway. There could be no mistake.
“You did this to me,” she’d said.
“I,” Takeo went to reply, voice too soft to be heard. He shook his head free of Yeira and looked at Gavin. “I have to go. I have to check on the walls.”
“Takeo!” Gavin replied, eyes alight and with tears of his own. “Look. It’s coming.”
Takeo glanced down at Yeira, at first confused, but then followed the knight’s gaze between her legs. A tiny head of hair had appeared there, pale, deformed, bloody, and so very, very small.
“Grab it,” the knight shouted, looking to Takeo. “Did you hear me? Get over there and help.”
Were it not for the commanding tone in Gavin’s voice, the samurai might have remained frozen, but as the boulders pounded the fort in continuous rhythm, Takeo’s fought down the desire to wretch and dropped to his knees before Yeira’s naked body. The beauty let out a scream that transferred into a groan, and the tiny head of hair pushed out, along with a spillage of liquid that followed out along the stone. Seeing the baby’s head drop, Takeo’s hands came out without thought, in callous disregard for the shock and reluctance telling him to flee, and he touched Gavin’s child.
“That’s it, my love, you’re doing so well,” Gavin said to Yeira, still unable to keep his voice below a shout due to the thunder of the merciless siege. “Push.”
Yeira roared and arched in Nicholas’ grasp, and the tiny figure in Takeo’s hands grew as the head broke free completely. It was hardly the size of his palms. He gaped, unblinking, slack-jawed and breathing through his mouth. To his inexperienced mind, he thought the baby might cry or something, but it didn’t even seem to breathe. A cold wind rushed down his spine, deeper than a snowy winter night in the desolate North.
“Gavin,” Takeo whispered, but his weak voice was drowned out.
“Push,” the knight called to Yeira, and she let loose another howl.
The baby’s shoulders broke free, and the tiny figure burst forth and into Takeo’s hands. Fluid, blood, and feces flowed out along the floor and seeped into Takeo’s clothes, but he could hardly be bothered to notice, what with the feeling of a newborn in his hands.
Gavin’s child. Gavin's daughter.
She didn’t breathe.
“Gavin,” Takeo muttered again, helpless and shaking, his hands soaking in Yeira’s essence. “Gavin, I don’t . . . . I don’t know what to do.”
He raised his voice high enough to be heard over the clamor, and the knight, who was rubbing Yeira and whispering how well she did, leapt to attention. He dove over Yeira’s leg and snatched the baby girl from Takeo’s arms. She was so very tiny, and he paused as he stared at her. Takeo went still, and despite the thundering of the siege, the room seemed horribly silent.
Gavin turned the baby over and slapped her back, waited then tried again. He flipped her over and put his mouth over her nose and face, drew in and then spit mucus out on the floor.
“I'm sorry, Gavin,” Takeo whispered. “It's too early for her—”
“Her body's warm,” the knight said.
“What?” Takeo gaped. “Surely, she can't survive.”
Gavin ignored him, eyes alight. “I think she's breathing.”
Impossible!
Takeo, Krunk, and Nicholas watched in absolute awe as Gavin flipped her over and giving her back a light smack. He rubbed her then flipped her over and sealed his lips over her entire face. Takeo couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He couldn’t believe it was anything but futile. Gavin pulled back and seemed to whispering ‘come on, please’ over and over again as he rubbed and pressed on her tiny chest and stomach. He paused and held her to his ear, steady, oh so steady despite the shaking and rumbling as the fort surely crumbled from the outside.
