In the Council barn, the black goat looked up at Pyre with liquid intelligent eyes. Over the last two days, the goat and Pyre had spent a good bit of time together. Petran was conscious and alert. Eating was a problem though. His weak stomach could not tolerate food yet. Only goat’s milk stayed down and he seemed to be gaining strength. Uncle Wert had been so focused on Petran’s recovery he had not worried much over Fand. This was fortunate. But, soon, he would have to be told his niece was not in quarantine but missing. Poor Uncle Wert. Pyre prayed he would not be the one who had to deliver the news.

Leaned against the stall wall, was Rufus, Pyre’s personal guard. His mission was to make sure Pyre did not get into any mischief and that Pyre would also no cause any more mischief. Rufus was a great bulk of a man, with a thatch of red hair. With his smooth skinned face he couldn’t be much older than Pyre. Impatiently he asked, “Are ye gonna get on with it, or just make goo goo eyes at the goat?”

Pyre didn’t respond. Never had he had the inconvenience of being under constant surveillance. It was truly annoying. He placed the bucket beneath the goat and gave her teats a quick tug. The sound of warm milk hitting the bucket reminded him of home. Plus, each cup of milk Petran consumed brought him one step closer to restoration. And Petran must be restored. Uncle Wert could not loose Petran and Fand at the same time. If he did, Pyre was sure, he would spend the rest of his days in a drunken stupor. When the goat’s udder was empty, Pyre picked up the half full bucket. He slipped his arm through the handle and cupped the goat’s face with both hands. He said, “Thanks old girl.”

There was a puff of steam and then he felt the tug of darkness. Frightened the goat leapt into his arms bobbling the bucket. Warm milk sloshed onto Pyre’s robe. A sudden wind blew into the barn and swirled around him. The sensation hat came over him was very familiar. Someone was trying to Transfer him and the goat. Rufus made a lunge for him. The blasted Guard latched onto him so tightly Pyre couldn't breath. The goat was crushed against his chest bleating in terror. The darkness of Transferrance pulled them in and they were falling. The goat went limp in his arms. Had it fainted or died? Rufus screamed like a girl. Pyre maintained his grip on the bucket and the goat. He closed his eyes and began to pray. Who had them? Was it for good or evil? Keeper, Rufus was going to cut him in half if he held on any tighter. Finally they stopped falling and landed with a soft thud.

Pyre opened his eyes. They were high up on a stone ledge. All around them the sky was pure unclouded blue. Beneath the sky was a mountain range. It was unfamiliar. These were not the gentle peaks of the Ruhe Mountains. They were like dark stone daggers thrust into sky. These were not mountains he had ever seen or studied about before. An icy wind was blowing. The air was thin. How high up were they? Where were they? Rufus still clung to him.The goat regained consciousness and began to squirm in his arms. By some miracle, there was still milk in the bucket. He told Rufus, “Let go of me you sod!” Rufus let go. He was trembling. His face had lost all color. Pyre put the goat down. A door opened in the side of the mountain. The goat went inside. The faint scent of lavender was caught by the wind. Renate? He passed through the doorway followed by Rufus. The instant they were inside the door slid closed. Pyre expected to be plunged into darkness, only he wasn’t. He found himself in a clean well lit small cave. His eyes scanned the room. Fand was not there. He turned his attention to Renate.

Hunched on the edge of wooden chair, Renate sat grasping her stomach. Her face was bloodless and her eyes were dull. On the floor, at her feet , was a candle. In her condition how had she had the strength to transport two men and a goat? In a low voice she said, “It is good you brought a goat. I fear, I need your help.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Alarmed Pyre asked, “Have your contractions started?”

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t you have sent for Loren?”

“No. He is not fit for this task, but you are.”

Pyre stepped closer and took a good look at her. He picked up her wrist and felt her pulse. It was racing, but steady. Sweat covered her forehead and he skin was clammy. He told her, “We must get you back in bed.” She did not speak, she only nodded. Rufus went to her and gently scooped her up. With care, he put her in one of the strange beds and covered her with a blanket. Pyre asked Rufus, “Have you ever assisted in a birth?”

The big man turned green. “Nay, not ever.” He looked like he was about to keel over.

Though he knew he could birth this child alone, he was not so sure, he could save the mother alone. He asked

Renate, “Where is Fand?”

Though it was an effort for he to speak, Renate answered, “She’s gone through that cupboard to a cavern. She will be back shortly.”

Though he wanted more information, Pyre didn’t ask anymore questions. Renate needed to conserve all the strength she had. He placed the bucket of milk on the floor and went to Renate and asked, “How far apart are your contractions?”

“I am not sure. The pain makes me loose count.” She reached out her hand for Pyre’s. Firmly, he took it. Her fingers were cold. She looked him in the eyes and said, “You can do this. You have helped in the birthing of many animals, a woman is little different from a cow.”

Pyre did not argue, though he was certain a woman was very different from a cow.

Renate continued, “When the baby comes if it has wing buds, you will give the baby to Fand, to take it to the land where wings are not a danger. If it does not have wings, you will take it to Loren. Promise me.”

If? If! What was this land she spoke of? Was Fand going away forever. Fear registered in Renate’s eyes. Gently he asked, “But what of you?”

Renate said, “I do not expect to survive this birth. I am too old. My heart is unsteady inside me. You know what you have to do to pull a living calf from a dead cow don’t you?”

Pyre nodded.

“Promise me that you will do the same for me.”

It was a grisly promise. Something that he never wanted to do to a cow much less a woman. Oh Keeper this was bad.

Renate closed her eyes. In that instant Pyre suspected she had not called Loren because she did not want her son to see her die or be forced to rip life from her. He whispered, “I promise.”

“Thank you. Zog’s child must live.”

Zog's child? This was Zog's child. He managed to stammer, “Y-yes, indeed and perhaps you too will live.”

Renate did not respond. She opened her eyes and pointed at the table beside the bed. It was laid out with everything necessary to birth a baby. A spasm seized Renate’s body.

Rufus swore under his breath.

Gently Pyre said, “Breath slow like this.” He took in a slow breath and then slowly released it. Renate struggled to do the same. He said, “Stay in the moment and ride out the wave.” Once his father had told him, “A creature knows how to go about a birthing. Accepts the process and stays focused on the moment. Not like a frightened woman breathing all fast and wild, fearing the next pain. Fear can be an enemy. It can rob us of life. Your mother has always born her birthing’s well. She is a rare one.” Was Renate a rare one? Pyre prayed so.

The contraction passed and Renate’s body relaxed. She said, “You are a good midwife Pyre.”

Though he did not say so aloud, he prayed he was. He had to be. He refused to accept that Renate was right about her own passing.

A screeching sound rent the air. Rufus drew his sword. The cupboard slid sideways revealing a doorway. Fand came through the door. Pyre was not prepared for the sight of her. His mouth dropped opened. Her wings had grown to magnificent proportions. They looked exactly like the angel wings he had seen in his Origin of Faith text. Her eyes met his. He felt the pull of her. She ran to him. He didn’t know how to hug her with her huge wings. She buried her face in his shoulder and said, “I am so thankful you are here.”

Awkwardly Pyre slipped his arms around her neck. She was so close, so very close. She smelled different. It was her feathers. They tickled his nose and danced around his face.

She pulled away from him and asked, “What are you doing here?” Her eyes strayed from Pyre to Renate, then back to Pyre. She knew.