Chapter 29

"Henantil is dead. It must have been someone else," said Falinir.

"But who?" said Loac.

"I don't know," said Falinir, "I don't believe there are any Altmeri living in the city. I'll go on up and ask the guards if they saw anything."

Falinir tugged at the knotted cord that released the ladder to the roof. The startled guards put down their bottles of liquor and stood to greet Falinir.

"Evenin' Sirrrr," said one of the guards in a drunken slur. His breath stunk of cheap rotmeth.

Falinir grimaced, "Did either of you see an intruder just now? An Altmer, perhaps?"

The guards' eyes widened with surprise and they looked around, bows in hand. Falinir sighed at the stupidity of the guards and said, "He's already gone. Next time, skip the liquor and stick to your post. Don't force me to hire new guards."

"My apologies, Sir," said one of the guards, "It won't 'appen again."

As Falinir stepped back down the into the house he muttered under his breath. He hung his coat on a hook and joined Loac's side. For the first time since Henantil's death she looked afraid.

"You have nothing to worry about. Whomever it was has run away. If he were here to harm you, he would have done so," said Falinir as he stroked Loac's hair calmly.

He walked to the window, and closed the shutters, latching them tightly. Falinir then slipped into his nightclothes, and joined Loac for sleep.

The next day, Falinir inquired around the city to find out if anyone else had seen an Altmeri man dressed in black. It wasn't long before he found out that the man did in fact exist. Yet, strangely, he disappeared from the city as quickly as he had come. There was no trace of him other than the words of a few people who had seen him the day before. It was enough to bring fear to Falinir's heart. He wondered if perhaps Loac's father had sent another assassin after him or his unborn child. The man could be waiting in hiding until their child's birth. The thought of it sent a chill down Falinir's spine.

Several days went by without any sign of the mysterious Altmer, and while the concerns about that man stayed in the back of Falinir's thoughts at all times, at the front of his mind now was the upcoming birth of his first child. Loac was full term, and could go into labor at any moment. She spent most of her time relaxing in a comfortable chair and reading local literature, while the midwife tended to her needs. Loac enjoyed the refreshing literary style of the Bosmeri authors. The stories were very different than the books she had read back in Alinor. It was a great way to pass the time and keep off of her feet.

Though she loved her new home in Falinesti, from time to time she did reminisce about the city of her birth. She wondered what had become of her father. She often felt a pang of guilt, knowing that he'd lost his dignity and possibly his throne due to her indiscretions. She hoped that someday he could forgive her.

As she turned the page of her latest book suddenly she felt a strong dull pain in her abdomen. It lasted for a short time then went away. As the pain returned again and again, growing in intensity, she realized the day had finally come. She was going to see her child for the first time.

"Annagil!" called Loac to her midwife, "I think I have the pains of labor."

The stout pale Bosmeri woman rushed to Loac's side and said, "Shall I go bring your husband? He just left for the Elder Council not a moment ago."

The pain of a new contraction caused Loac's voice to waver as she grunted, "Yes."

Annagil bounded down the stairs and out the door to catch Falinir before he could reach the council chambers. She finally caught up with him outside the large council door, sipping from a warmed rhana eggshell and talking to a few other members of the Elder Council. From the look of urgency on her face, Falinir immediately knew what it meant.

"Sir, it's time for the baby to be born," said the midwife, slightly out of breath from her run.

A smile crossed Falinir's face as the fellow council members patted him on the back and congratulated him. He walked briskly with the midwife up along the wooden plank trail that stretched hundreds of feet above the ground below. The trail curved around the massive trunk and passed over a large mossy branch. As it curved around another protruding branch they were suddenly faced by a tall elegantly dressed man. Looking up into the man's face, Falinir saw it was none other than Warundil, Loac's father. Falinir nearly fell back from the shock.

"Ambassador Falinir," said Warundil calmly, "The wretch who destroyed my life."

"I've done nothing of the sort," said Falinir.

"You cost me my throne, you little runt," said Warundil, "I'd hardly call that nothing! Where is Loac in this hovel of a city? Has the child been born yet? My spy said she was living near here."

"What are you planning to do?" said Falinir, "She's a grown woman, free to live her own life. Just let us raise our child in peace. We've never meant you any harm. Just leave, and you'll never have to see us or hear from us again."

Warundil stared down at Falinir with a lip curled in disgust and said, "Oh, I'll make sure I never have to see you again."

Swift as a whip, Warundil's hand shot out from under his long silken robe and emitted a spell knocking Falinir backwards. The fire spell didn't harm him due to his amulet, but it was so powerful it pushed him back like a hard punch. The midwife screamed and ran off toward the house as Falinir was struck again and pushed over the edge of the perilous treetop walkway. The wind whipped through his long black hair as he tumbled headfirst through the sky's thick morning fog. Falinir stretched out his arms, desperate for anything to latch onto to save himself from the death that was certain to come. With sheer luck his hand reached a thick rope of one of the lower level lifts, and he skidded slowly down to the basket at the bottom, landing between two elderly Bosmeri women. One of the women was gasped with fright and covered her face.

"Pardon me, ladies", said Falinir with a nod, as he looked down at the reddish rope burn on his hand. The lift slowly pulled him up to the lower level of the city, and he ran as fast as his short legs would carry him to the next lift that would bring him to the level of his home. Unfortunately, it was on the other side of the city.

Meanwhile, Warundil followed the midwife as she foolishly led him straight to the house while fleeing. Warundil calmly fired magic from both of his hands simultaneously, killing the two half-asleep guards before they even saw him coming. With another blast he struck down the midwife as her hand reached for the door handle. He pulled her charred dead hand off the door handle and entered the house, closing the door behind him.

"Falinir, is that you?" called Loac from upstairs when she heard the door close.

"Hello, Loac," replied her father.

"What?" shouted Loac, "Father?"

Despite the pain of labor she pulled herself out of bed and trudged down the steps.

"What... what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I see you're about to give birth. That certainly brings back memories. Did I ever tell you the story of your name?" asked Warundil with a smile.

Loac looked confused by her father's odd words and slowly replied, "My name means thirty in the old Altmer tongue. It's an ancient custom to use a number as a name. I've known that since I was a child."

"Ah, but do you know why your mother and I named you 'thirty' in particular?" asked Warundil with a cold stare.

Loac whispered, "No," as she sat in a chair and began breathing through another painful contraction, "What is all this about?"

"You see, as High Wizard and High Wizardress, we sought to have the perfect child. I know there are laws in effect to protect our race from imperfection by culling those babies that don't live up to Altmeri standards. Those standards are a bit weak in my opinion. Your mother and I wanted our heir to live up to higher standards, and so we tried and tried again. Although the cullers said the babies were good enough to keep, we killed them by our own hands. We didn't want 'good enough'. We wanted perfection for our heir. Finally, your mother was pregnant with her 30th child, but there were complications with the birth. She began bleeding badly, and didn't survive the delivery. You were born the moment I lost the one true love of my life," said Warundil.

"You mean I had twenty-nine brothers and sisters, and you killed them all? That's horrible!" said Loac with shock.

"I'm sure you can understand it was the right thing to do, rather than to bring an imperfect heir to the throne," said Warundil calmly.

Loac replied angrily, "So I was the only perfect one in your eyes? And they all had to die so you could have me as the heir?"

Warundil laughed and said, "The culler told me you were barely good enough to keep by typical Altmeri standards. You were nowhere near the perfection I wanted in an heir. However, when I looked into your eyes as I was about to cull you, I was reminded of your mother, and in a moment of weakness I decided to keep you. It was a foolish sentimental mistake. Now I'm going to do what I should have done the day you were born!"

Warundil raised his hand in anger and said, "Goodbye, Loac."

"Father, no!" shouted Loac.

The extremely powerful fire spell knocked Loac back and burned the large chair to ashes. She clambored to her feet and shuffled out the door, screaming for help. Warundil assumed his spell had struck the chair by mistake and he followed Loac outside and down the walkway. He walked calmly toward her, chuckling to himself to see her struggling and limping away while in labor. He raised his hand and she gasped and ducked out of the way. The spell struck the walkway ahead of Loac and burnt away her only means of escape. There was no way to jump over the burnt gaping hole. Warundil walked up to the edge of the walkway where Loac stood defenseless. He looked down at his daughter and raised his hand. Suddenly, they heard a crackling sound, as the damaged walkway broke under their weight. Loac grabbed onto a wood plank, wrapping her arm around it, and Warundil slid off the edge screaming as he fell. His body shattered lifeless on the earth below. Within moments his body was surrounded by the starving beggars. Smiles and cheers erupted from them as they hoisted him up and started a large cooking fire.

Up above, Loac felt her thin arm slipping. The weight of her nine-month pregnant body was too much to pull up on her own. She screamed for help as her arm slipped more, and suddenly felt the warm grip of a hand around her wrist. Another hand grabbed her and began pulling her up. Falinir and another Bosmeri man pulled with all their might, and slowly brought Loac back onto the walkway. She fell into Falinir's arms in tears. Looking down at her dead father far below, she said a prayer and asked the gods to forgive him. Falinir wrapped his arm around her waist, and helped her walk slowly back to the house and onto her bed. Loac's labor lasted throughout the rest of the day. Falinir stayed by her side constantly and comforted her through the pain. As the sun set in the pale sky, she began to push.

Late that warm clear evening, a baby girl was born- half-Altmer and half-Bosmer, never judged or measured by a culler, and completely loved by her parents just the way she was.

The end.

Thanks for reading!

- Lisa Colver