Fate

He settled her into a chair in front of her son's house, the boards weathered to a dingy gray. Her grandson's house now, since the funeral a quarter-moon in the past. Xad doubted she remembered. Her memories had been in the distant past for many years. He bent and handed her the little water-filled globe made from a sea-bubble washed up on shore, usually sufficient to keep her content for hours on end. She must have dropped it, or she wouldn't have wandered down to the beach.

He left her there, turned and walked along the street. Another man, hurrying toward them along the street, turned and walked beside him.

"Someday she'll wander into the water," Xad muttered to Iach.

"I'm glad you noticed her absense." Iach looked back, as if to make sure she remained on the porch. "I don't like to lock her in." They didn't have enough people to watch her every minute. Feet grated as the sand of the little road slipped under their calloused soles. A small rock-slide echoed somewhere in the canyons.

Xad shook his head, smiling. "Give her a bowl of water surrounded by sand, she'd be content."

Iach snorted, amused. "Most likely. Then I'd only have to worry about her drowning as she tried to breathe it."

They rounded the corner of sandstone that hid the village from view and looked down over the fields. Each generation the village got smaller. Nineteen people now, including seven children.

Iachen waved from the edge of the field before she bent again, swinging the scythe in a regular rhythm. Her two living children followed her to gather up the grain.

"Shouldn't she rest?" Xad watched the gravid woman with concern. The scythe flashed. "We can't lose this child."

Iach shivered in the warm breeze off the ocean. One in four of the children born to the village were unable to breathe and died. Others were oddly shaped, but their ancestors had learned to look past that. If the village was to survive, they must look past it. "You convince her. Most likely a demon-child anyway," he snapped, although his tone said that possibility frightened him.

The two men walked together down into the fields. Iach picked up his abandoned scythe, but Xad moved along the edge of the fields toward the groves. He passed by the woman and glanced down, saw her stiffen. The scythe never slowed its relentless chewing at the ripe grain.

"Iachen," he snapped, and grabbed her hand to stop the swing. "You're in labor." He expected her answer, although it grieved him.

"I'm not," she insisted, but she made no move to jerk her hand away from his. "I'm not. I have to finish this." The two children stopped gathering up the grain, eyed the adults with trepidation. One took a few steps away and stared into the forest as if trying to ignore the confrontation. The other stared.

"Do you want to lose this child?" Xad demanded, and the woman's eyes flashed up to meet his. She glanced to the side, toward her husband, and raised her eyes to his.

"I'll lose it anyway. The longer I can hold on...maybe it will..." A shudder passed across her belly.

Xad reached for the scythe, rolled it out of her fingers. "Go. Rest. That will be better for this child than working." By the time the others returned either she would be in full labor or the pains would have stopped. In spite of past experience, he couldn't help hoping it would make a difference this once.

Her eyes looked at something in the vicinity of his bare feet. She said nothing, but simply stood as if studying the dust before she turned and walked away.

Xad sighed and took up the scythe. Keeping the child inside longer would not change its fate. If it belonged to the Demons Bay, nothing could be done about it now.