A/N: Evening lovelies c: I promised myself I'd have the next chapter up by my birthday, and I've actually kept it! :D So, without further ado, hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to leave a review-this chapter is styled a little differently to the last ones, so I'm nervous lol.
HUGE thanks to Druid Archer, brandibuckeye, Girl In the Library Corner, princesspomegranate and xXxFantasyAmorexXx for their lovely reviews. Your feedback makes it worth every hurdle :).
And as always, gracias princesspomegranate for BETAing! Legend!
. : Chapter 5: Birth of the Sons : .
Papa and Uncle Darian had started taking us away from the village in my eighth summer. To live and train in an untouched and untamed world that until then, I'd only glimpsed.
We went everywhere. To the broad open grass plains that stretched on for farther than I could see. To the woods which were home to larger game; living, moving target practice. To the mountains, where it got so bitingly cold that I feared all my fingers and toes would fall off. And even to the sea, which was something truly astounding to me, something I had only ever heard stories about.
We once spent three moons away from home on a trip, a mere taste of what our service would be like.
They watched us most of the time, but sometimes they left us for several nights to fend for ourselves. We had to be tough, had to survive not only our future masters and whatever enemy came our way; we also had to survive nature, if we were ever lost to it. And our teachers assured us that we would be.
"Knights spend almost all of their fifteen years out here," Papa gestured to the crisp, dark air and nothingness that surrounded us.
We were sitting around a fire in the middle of the grass plains, some four day journey from the warmth and security of our home.
The men were no longer our fathers in times like these. They truly became our teachers, showing glimpses of the knights I knew they once were. Who they still were, but that they'd hidden in the darker parts of their souls. And in times like these, they told us stories of their service to Rome.
"Rome enslaves Sarmatians for the simple reason that we are the best at surviving everything. We are born into the wild and raised to thrive in it."
"We adapt and don't need things like plush beds and a tent the size of a hut over our heads to sleep outside," Uncle grinned cheekily.
Papa gave him a sour look, "Darian, I'm trying to be serious."
"You're always trying to be serious. The young 'uns aren't stupid, you could just say the Romans are to soft and we're born with iron blood. They'd understand."
"You always were hideous at storytelling," Papa grinned. "When we actually sat down to tell stories of course. Otherwise you're the first one to fill their heads with horse shit."
Uncle attempted to look insulted, but his eyes shone with mischief.
"I like Uncle's tales," I said airily, watching Dag as he fetched another log and stoked up the flames. "Gives me plenty of ideas of what not to do."
"See? My stories are very educational," he grinned at Papa smugly.
Perhaps the knights they once had been were extremely childish when not engaged in battle or some kind of bar fight. Still, I saw a darkness that lurked under the surface. It was a darkness that I knew Papa had never let Mama see; that they had spared their families from seeing. Seeing what knighthood had done to them, what it had turned them into.
Cold blooded killers.
It was to be my fate as well, and Dag's too. It was what our mothers feared, but couldn't comprehend. And what our fathers knew would become of us. To take another's life and to be able to live with yourself… It required darkness in the wielder of the killing blow.
It wasn't something we were necessarily born with, Papa had explained. It was something that grew in us over a very short space of time. Something that had to grow quickly or the horror of what we were doing would destroy us, as it had several of their brethren.
As Papa and Uncle Darian continued to squabble like children, I rested my chin on my knees and watched the hungry flames slowly consume the log.
I was to either lose my heart to the blackness, or let the killing kill me. To live or die, I was learning, was what everything came down to.
oOo
"It is legend that all the fallen knights come back as great horses," Uncle said matter-of-factly as he patted the chest of his big, old warhorse fondly. "It's why Sarmatia has the best horses in the world, and why we're the best horsemen."
I cleared my throat.
"And women," he amended.
Really, I didn't care if they called us horsemen or horsewomen, I just enjoyed teasing them. Something which Uncle saw as an extremely good thing -and he boasted was due to his excellent influence- even though he copped most of my teasing.
"The best bond to have is the bond you'll have with your horse," he continued, smoothing his hand down the old bay's neck. "They know the art of war, it's in their blood. They will be your friend, your guide and your saviour. Your horse is your most precious possession. You must always look after your horse, as they will look after you. Understand?"
Dag and I nodded. Sarmatians were famed for being horse whispers. We breed the hardiest animals, and have the best companionships with them. Something which all adults, especially old knights, will tell you is because the blood of all our warriors runs in their veins.
My eyes flicked to Papa as he stood aside his favourite mare which was expected to foal any day soon. The mare, Alani- meaning lady-, was the last foal sired by the stallion he'd seen his service years with. The big black was several summers dead now, I could only just recall him as a hazy giant in my memory.
Alani was the spitting image of her sire, pure black, with not a single white hair on her. She was in foal to the old stallion Uncle was currently cooing to like he were a babe, Brata, which meant 'brother' fittingly enough. It would be Brata's final foal, so it was special even before it'd been born.
The Knights had a way with the horses, more so then the rest of our people. Even a blind man could see it. It was… magical. I looked forward to having the same thing.
"You will both have a horse to take with you." Uncle's voice broke me out of my musings.
We would?
"Of course they will," Papa muttered, stroking Alani's huge stomach. "No child of mine will ride any worthless prancer-"
Even the Roman horses were despised here. Apparently, their only attribute was their speed, which Uncle was quick to dismiss as still lacking to ours, but apart from that they weren't suitable for the harsher conditions and were quite ill-tempered and sulky. "-while I'm around, not even when I'm dead."
"Which ones?" Dag asked, straightening. Being given a horse was a great honour.
Uncle smiled at him, "That is up to you, and the horses. You must have the bond, and it will show from the very beginning."
Our entire tribe were mad horse breeders. We had many of them and it was our main form of trade with other tribes. The Sarmatians might band together against the Romans, but before that we didn't really get along well with the others tribes. We might as well have been different people; our only common point was the land of our birth and our general culture. There were four tribes, and those four were then divided up into separate villages.
Dag and I were Roxolani. Son and daughter of the wind. Roxolani villages were all situated on the east of the mountains on the fringes of the Great Plains.
"How will we know?" I asked, gazing around at the many horses grazing lazily in the lush pastures around us. Paddocks were unnecessary, they never strayed far and they always returned.
"You just will," Papa answered, giving Alani one last loving caress before coming to stand at my side and resting a hand on my shoulder. "It's something that words cannot be used to describe."
Uncle added on a side note, "Don't think that one of them will suddenly bounce up to you and starting licking you, it's not always so obvious."
"What a relief," I mumbled dryly as Dag gave his father an equally dry look.
Uncle Darian just grinned at us and clapped his son on the shoulder, "We'll leave you to it, then."
We nodded, and I was only half aware of the old knights leaving. "Do you really think it'll happen to us?" I asked, stroking Brata's white blaze absentmindedly as my eyes scanned the other animals.
Dag and I were the only ones out here, something I think Papa and Uncle had everything to do with. They seemed to banish everyone else. That or everyone else had just left us be. As if we were already dead.
My brother shrugged, "Pa says it will. It did for every other knight, why not us to?" Though he spoke to me, his eyes and most of his attention was on the small group of mares and foals not far from us.
We would need young horses, for them to be able to handle fifteen years of hard work. The foals here were about six months old now; it would give us enough time to have them broken in. But we needed the bond before that could happen.
"Uncle says a lot of things." I pointed out, my lips twisting into a smirk. "I think he took to many blows to the head."
Dag opened his mouth like he might defend his father, but then he shut it with a shake of his head, "No, I can't argue with you there."
I laughed, "It's good when you admit I'm right."
"Don't let it go to your head," he murmured. "Half the time, I think you're mad."
"Gee, thanks, Dag."
oOo
Three nights later, I was standing alone in our shabby-but-did-the-job stables. Outside of Alani's straw-bottom stall, watching the mare pace from one side to the other, blowing out deep breaths and pawing the bed that had been laid down for her.
She was showing the first signs of labour, and I was supposed to go and fetch Papa, but I just stood there.
Her coat was covered with a light sheen of sweat and her demeanour was generally agitated. I should've gone to fetch Papa, or someone who knew what to do at least, but I couldn't seem to move.
The mare, so prized by my father, looked at me. Her big, brown eyes showed fear and pain.
"Shh, girl, it's alright," the words left my lips in a murmur. Extending my hand to her, I stepped into the stall.
She watched me intently, having stopped pacing but continued to stamp her feet, as if she were unable to stand still. There was something about her eyes, something that drew me and kept me from leaving. She was looking at me like she didn't want me to leave.
Mares could be unpredictable during births- the reason why children were generally kept out of the way. But this one let me lay my still-small hand on her velvet nose, and she leaned into the touch.
"Are you scared?" I asked her softly, placing my other hand against her heart to feel its rapid beats. "It's alright, you'll be just fine. I won't leave you, but I should get Papa."
She snorted down my front and tossed her head. I snatched my hands back and stepped away. Be calm! Papa's voice echoed through my sudden fear. Horses could sense your moods, and it often affected them the same way. I breathed out slowly and willed my heart beat to calm before stepping towards the mare again.
"I won't then, if that's what you want."
I was talking to a horse as if I was actually having a conversation with her. We might believe in horse's having warrior spirits, but as far as I knew, no one expected them to actually talk to us. I hoped it wasn't a sign of madness.
Alani calmed a little and stopped her pacing again.
I laid my hand against her stomach and felt the foal inside her move. "I wish you could talk, this would be much easier then. I don't know what to do."
She shifted and lowered herself to her knees, the slowly all the way to the soft ground. I kneeled at her head and stroked her cheek in what I hoped was a soothing manner. Her breathing had deepened and grown heavier.
"You'll have to show me," I whispered to her, my fingers drawing circles on her silky black neck, feeling all the muscles straining beneath the skin. "I'm training to be a knight, you know, not a midwife. Knowledge of birth isn't needed in death."
She snorted again, as if at me; then let out a pained whinny that made me jump in surprise. Now what had Mama said this was? I couldn't remember, but it meant the foal was ready to come out… I think. "I am not suited for this."
Alani tried to raise her head and out of reflex I pushed it back down. "Stay there girl, your alright. Your doin' great, Alani." I think, I hope. "Not long now." I hope. I did recall labour could last for hours, possibly days in extreme cases. I prayed this was not one of those times.
She squealed again and strained, her breaths coming in short pants. I peered hopefully at her rear end, only to deflate when I saw nothing. Damn, maybe this would take longer than I thought.
oOo
"Mali!"
I looked up at the voice, startled. Papa, Uncle Darian and Uncle Brin, Aunt Rali's husband, stood in the entry to the stall.
Alani let out another pained squeal and my eyes dropped back to her, "Easy, easy, it's just Papa."
She was dripping in sweat by now, I had no idea how much time had passed, but every inch of her was tense and wet. The hooves of the foal were just starting to show, and I knew it would be bad if they were the back hooves.
"Mali! Why didn't you get us?" Papa demanded as the men rushed into the stall and checked Alani over.
"She didn't want me to leave," I answered simply, drawing circles over her face that now rested in my lap. Horse's heads are damn heavy. "I tried to leave, but she got all upset, so I stayed."
"How long has she been like this?" Uncle Brin asked, his green eyes flicking over the mare knowingly as he knelt next to her back end. Uncle Brin was great, and he was very experienced in delivering foals.
"I don't know, exactly," I said helplessly. "She lay down after noon, started the pained noises not long after that, and the hooves have only been showing for five minutes. What time is it?"
"Dusk," Uncle Darian answered with a reassuring smile. "She's fine, Mali, calm down."
"You've done well," Uncle Brin agreed, sending me a small smile. He and Aunt Rali had been married for ten summers now, but they are yet to have children. It worried him, I knew, and hurt her. But they were the kindest of Mama's side of the family and I loved them both. They had particular soft spots of us children; a sign they wanted their own.
"She'll be just fine."
I breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank the gods, how much longer?"
"Not long now, hopefully."
Papa knelt beside me, put one hand on my back and one of Alani's neck, "Good girl, good girl."
I wasn't sure if he was talking to me, or the horse.
Alani snorted and pushed again, more of the foal appeared and a part of me lifted when I realised they were indeed the front legs.
"That's it, little one," Uncle Brin cooed encouragingly, patting her rump. "Another push, now, that's it."
I decided then, that if I were ever in this much pain, and someone spoke to me like that, I'd gut them.
It went on for about another fifteen to twenty minutes. The head of the foal had appeared, and the shoulders. It was black, like its mother, but had one white sock on its right leg. Alani gave one final push, and the foal slipped out, along with lots of other stuff I'd rather not know about.
Uncle Brin leapt to help it as it struggled to free itself of the muck that covered it. I was right. It was completely black, apart from that one white sock.
Uncle Darian laughed, "Its birthing fluids, Mali. It's it a beautiful sight isn't it?"
I wrinkled my nose. He'd definitely been hit in the head one too many times with something heavy.
"Wonderful," I replied sarcastically.
The little foal made an attempt at a whinny; and my heart melted. Alani, even in her exhausted state, lifted her head and started to get up. Letting her go, Papa and I got to our feet as well. I had to lean on him as my legs had gone numb.
"A little colt," Uncle Brin declared with a wide grin. "Beautifully healthy and strong."
I've never seen Papa smile so brightly, "Good, very good."
Alani was licking her son clean as he stood on wobbly legs, teetering from side to side as he tried to reach her milk. The mare kept shifting away just as he got in reach.
"She's getting him used to walking as quickly as possible," Papa explained. "She will let him feed when he is clean and mostly stable."
I nodded, my eyes following his every movement. I'd seen foals before of course, but this one was truly beautiful. I smiled when he sneezed and nearly fell over. Then he again resumed his relentless quest for his first drink.
I giggled softly, and it drew the foal's eyes to me and he stood still, watching me and allowing his mother to lick him. I stepped towards him and held out my hand. "Your going to be a beauty, aren't you? And a handful," I stopped about a foot from him, hand still extended.
His eyes, which were as dark as mine, and filled with life, stayed firmly fixed on me. Then tentatively, he stretched out his neck, pushed his tiny, velvety black nose into my open palm, and licked me.
oOo
I named him Tama, which meant darkness. He was to be mine, and I his.
oOo
"Malise!"
I raised my eyes from cleaning my sword and raised an eyebrow at my disgruntled looking Uncle, "Yes, dear Uncle?"
Uncle Brin pointed to where my horse was standing, saddle cloth clasped in his teeth, "Get it."
Tama was one year old now, and was as beautiful and troublesome as I'd predicted the night he was born. Sighing, I set my blade and cleaning cloth aside and went to my cheeky stallion. Usually, breaking waited until the horse was two or three years old, but with the Romans due in two short summers, Tama would be broken early to give me plenty of time to bond and get us both used to each other. A rider had to be one with his horse, and that connection, even through the bond we shared now, would still take time to fine tune itself.
"Come, Tama," I whispered softly, knowing he could hear me when his ears flicked in response. "Are you being naughty again? Stop tormenting Uncle and give him back his cloth."
I held out my hand for the material and stared unwaveringly into the dark brown eyes, so dark that they were nearly black.
Tama tossed his head, sending his mane flying. He wasn't fully grown yet, but he would take after his sire and grandsire in height. He was already fifteen hands, and Papa expected him to grow yet another hand, perhaps more. He was thickly muscled, powerful, fast, perfect. It was his personality that many found fault with. But I just found him funny.
"Come on, boy," I coaxed when he kept hold of the cloth. "You know how upset Uncle gets when you play. If you give him back his cloth, he might not withhold your snack tonight."
Not that Tama needed his snack- a special mash that the women made, Mama was teaching me the recipe- he was plenty fat enough. Still, he liked it. And he and Belenus, Dag's black two year old stallion-named after the god of healing, were both spoiled rotten.
I grabbed the cloth gently and tugged, he let it free, "Good boy. You're a sucker for your food, aren't you? Hmm? Typical male."
I stoked his silky hide lovingly and pressed a kiss to his nose.
I returned the cloth back to Uncle Brin with an innocent smile, "Here you are."
He chuckled and shook his head, "I've never seen a horse so playful. What've you been teaching him, Mali?"
"Me?" I blinked, fighting the grin that was threatening to break out. "Why, I'd never do such a thing."
He sighed and tapped my cheek with a calloused finger. He was really the village blacksmith; he'd made the swords Dag and I would take to service.
"My girl, I think you've spent too much time with us."
Us meant he and Uncle Darian. I grinned.
"Undoubtedly," We both looked at Papa with matching innocent grins. "Can you spare my daughter, Brin? I need to have a word with her."
"Gotten yourself into trouble again, eh?" he tilted his head at me. "What've you done now?"
"Nothing! Well, nothing that I'm aware of," I frowned, looking at Papa. "Am I in trouble?"
He chuckled, "Not unless there's something you wish to tell me, girl."
I shook my head quickly. I'm not that stupid.
Smiling, he gestured me to follow. I waved at Uncle Brin and Tama and trailed after Papa.
"What is it?"
He took a deep breath, and foreboding filled me, "What's wrong? Has something happened? Is Fallon and Caelan and Mama alright? What..?"
"Calm yourself, girl," Papa soothed, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Everyone is fine. There is just news, is all."
"News?" I was really confused now, but my panic had faded.
Papa nodded, our matching eyes locked, "Your Mama is with child again."
I blinked. That…was not what I'd been expecting.
"Is that good?"
He laughed, "Yes," but then he grimaced. "Or no... Do you remember what Mama was like when she was with Fallon?"
"You spent a lot of nights at Uncle's, or in the stables."
He rubbed the back of his neck, "Ah. You do remember."
I laughed, "Mama and my Aunts enjoy recounting tales of their pregnancies a lot."
"I knew they were still trying to corrupt you," he muttered dryly. "You won't get involved with men while your away, will you, Mali?"
I shook my head, "Mama has already dealt with all that, Papa. She says all you have to do is train me."
"She's a wonderful woman, your mother."
"Papa, you don't have to start buttering her up yet," I said, amused. "She can't hear you."
"I was hoping you'd put in a good word for your beloved father."
I smirked and shook my head, "Think of it as payback for all the laps you've made us run."
Papa gave me a dirty look, "You have been spending too much time with your Uncles."
"Actually, they tell me I'm just like you."
"I'm going to kill the smartarse bastards."
oOo
Nine months later, we were waiting on the edges of the stream as Mama gave birth to our new sibling. Pregnancy was something I had vowed to avoid ever doing. It was terrible.
"I'm never getting married," I muttered dryly. "And I'm never having children. I'm castrating any man that ever comes near me."
"That's my girl," Papa laughed, pleased. "Maybe you won't need to watch her after all, Dagonet."
Dag, who I swear grew by the day, looked up from the set of nasty looking daggers he was sharpening. "No. I'll just have to keep her from killing them and getting whipped to death."
"What?" Caelan gasped from next to me, horror written all over her face.
"Dag, shut up," I glared at him. "I'm not going to be whipped, Caelan, calm down… I'd kill all the Romans before they could even get the whip."
"Malise!" Papa warned as my sister turned white and her mouth fell open.
"Couldn't help myself," I grinned sheepishly, leaning over to kiss Caelan's cheek apologetically. "I'll be good, I promise."
She glared at me, "You are a rogue, Mali. Completely wild!"
"Thank you."
She opened her mouth to retort but snapped it shut again when she noticed Aunt Ana coming towards us, a smile on her pretty face. Caelan leapt to her feet faster than anyone and we all stood and grouped together to hear the news.
"Well?" Papa asked impatiently.
"A boy, they're both fine," Aunt Ana said as Uncle Darian encircled her in his arms.
A boy, a brother, a son. My breath caught in my throat. But it couldn't be, the Romans were only months away now. I felt the eyes flick to me. Here was the son, and he was late. I had his fate now, the fate of hardship, death and darkness.
I smiled. I was ready for it, and I would spare my baby brother from it any day.
A/N: Hope you guys don't mind the different style to the chapter, but I've gotta skip through her life somehow lol. I hope you enjoyed this one, I'm not quite sure of it so please let me know what you thought of it!
~Meg xx