Erinne was sweating and panting for breath as she paced around the room. Each step was full of discomfort, but sitting still somehow seemed worse. When she tried, she swore her heart threatened to pound out of her chest, pain shot through her back, and she felt weaker. She glanced towards the window, it was dark outside, the first rains of winter beating on her shutters. How far away was the dawn?
She could sense the stares of everyone around her. Her labor was taking too long. She'd never given birth, but she knew it in her bones, this didn't bode well for her. When her contractions had started, she'd made jokes with Lohke, when they worsened, he'd left her to get the orc women that would help guide her through the birth: Kitchka, Cilla, and Zevra. She didn't know Cilla well, but she'd been asking Zevra questions about motherhood recently as the orc had an eight month old at home. Cilla was an older orc who'd seen plenty of women through many deliveries.
All three of them had already talked her through everything that would happen, what she needed to do, but when pushing time came, nothing seemed to happen, they were still here. As the wind and rain battered the outside of her home, she stopped pacing as another contraction began and she held her hand out and someone grabbed it. She didn't make a sound as it passed, clinging to that one hand of comfort, wishing it was Cold Hammer.
When the pain ebbed, she released the hand and turned her head, "Thank you, Kitchka." Usually, she reached and Lohke took her hand, but he wasn't here right now. She'd heard that humans didn't allow any males in the birthing room, but orcs didn't care and she certainly didn't. She'd demanded he stay, not because she wanted to get at him for Cold Hammer not being here, but because he was her best friend and she needed that comfort.
"The village is surely dancing for you tonight, Sheobulf," Kitchka told her.
"Lohke will have them all in a stir." Cilla nodded approvingly.
Erinne took a shaky breath, "May the Ancestors hear them." She took a shaky step forward and didn't fall so she kept pacing around her small cabin. Lohke had been gone too long for her peace of mind, but the winter rains were rolling in, possibly the cause for his delay. He'd left to retrieve the shaman when they realized her delivery wasn't progressing the way it was supposed to and his promise to have the entire village praying to the Ancestors for her. The more of them that prayed, the louder their voices would be to the heavens.
She didn't know if it would matter.
She couldn't help but wonder, even if she survived this, was this how she lost her son? Would he die in childbirth? Would she? She thought back to the village women at Carenhal where she and Cold Hammer had helped establish trade with the humans. One of the younger women had asked her if she was afraid of being torn apart by the birth. She wasn't then, but now she was. She was afraid of her son not making it into this world, she was afraid he was too big to come out.
"Don't give up, Sheobulf." Cilla spoke as she rose from the bed and made her way across the room to her. "I can see the light going out in your eyes. Do not think whatever it is you're thinking. Wait for the shaman. He'll help-" the door opened, letting in a burst of wind and cold and Erinne shivered as another contraction hit her and she grabbed onto Cilla, nearly going to her knees.
"Cold Hammer!" She called his name as her vision dimmed and she clung to Cilla, but it wasn't her mate who picked her up and carried her towards the bed. "I want him. Lohke,"
"Shhh, I know, Sheobulf." Lohke set her down on the bed gently and cupped her face. She could feel the rain on his hands, feel how cold they were from it. The first winter storm was well underway.
"Do you think he got it?" She asked Lohke. He'd sent a message to Cold Hammer when she'd gone into labor, telling him the baby was coming. He should be home any day now, if he got the message soon enough, he might make it here to be with her when she died.
Lohke didn't answer her as he pushed back the hair that was sticking to her face. He looked past her and said, "She looks worse than when I left."
"She's getting weaker." Cilla told him quietly.
"I can hear you." She muttered. "You can say it, I'm dying."
"No." Lohke shook his head, still holding her as the Killerfrost shaman came to sit next to her on the bed.
"Not if I have anything to say about it, Sheobulf." Shaman Griesling pulled some herbs from a bag and whispered prayers and spells over them before he held them below her nose. The stench of them made her curl her lip. "You must eat them."
She tried to twist her head away but Lohke held her firm. "Eat them."
"They smell like rotted meat."
"Eat." Griesling insisted and she nibbled them from his hand. Before she could swallow the bitter herbs, another contraction came and she held onto Lohke as Griesling started pressing on her stomach. It left her lightheaded and Griesling was still insisting she swallow the herbs so she did.
"Water, Sheobulf," Zevra leaned past the shaman and held a cup to her lips for her and she drank. "She is strong, Lohke. I've never seen anyone cry so little during their birthing."
Cilla seconded those words, "Very few."
"She was always strong." Lohke agreed but she was trying to sit up.
"I want to walk." Pain was blooming in her back ten times stronger than before.
"You're too weak." Zevra told her.
"Let me stand." She insisted and Lohke pulled her forward gently and helped her stand. She grabbed onto the bedpost, her whole body shaking. As she held onto the post, she stared across the room, her eyes resting on the small cradle Cold Hammer had made for their son. She'd never see him rocked in that cradle, never hear him cry.
Kitchka grabbed her and pressed her face into the side of her neck, wrapping her arms around her, "Do not give up, please." She felt tears spring into her eyes at Kitchka's heartfelt words. "Our clan needs you."
Erinne tried to take a slow, steady breath but it left her chest tight with an anxiety that wouldn't go away. "Tell Cold Hammer I'm sorry." She whispered and Kitchka squeezed her harder while Lohke pressed his lips to her cheek.
"I am sorry, too, siba, I shouldn't have sent him away." He clasped one of his hands around hers that was still clinging to the bedpost. She didn't reply to Lohke's words, a lump in her throat blocking anything she might've said, so instead she thought of her mate. She wanted him more than she could begin to describe, wanted his arms holding her, his deep voice whispering in her ear. She knew it wasn't going to be okay, but she'd give anything to have him telling her that it was, even if they both knew it was a lie.
The door opened again and Chigun came in, soaked from the rain as a concerning crack snapped outside and the ground shook. Chigun frowned as he looked back towards the door and then faced forward again, "I think a tree just fell." He shook off his arms and water dripped to the floor and she noticed how muddy his boots were. "The clan sings for her, the ancestors will hear us. I've brought the roots you've asked for, Griesling."
"Boil them. Quick as you can."
Chigun nodded and went to her kitchen and her eyes drifted back to the cradle as Kitchka continued to hold onto her. She squeezed her with each contraction, helping her through the pain, and Lohke was a looming presence behind her, his hand on her shoulder.
"What will the roots do?" She finally managed to ask them.
"It will relax your body, ease the contractions."
Erinne lurched backwards as she threw her head up, eyes wide, "The teradol root?! You can't do that, he'll die!"
Lohke caught her. "He has to come out."
Griesling looked at her with stone eyes, "It is the only way. When your body is calm, you will sleep and we'll pull him out."
"Lohke!" She screamed as another contraction hit her with the full force of Griesling's words.
"They don't always die," Griesling told her, "but if we don't do this, you surely will."
Tears flooded her eyes, "Then let me die but don't kill him."
"Sheobulf," Lohke's voice was soothing but she could still hear the tightness, "it's the only way we might save you both."
"I want my mate." She shoved Lohke away and stumbled away from them. Cilla was quickly on her heels but the room was silent as she started pacing again, shooting daggers at them with her eyes as the roots continued to boil in their pot. She contemplated dumping it out.
Griesling spoke again, "He hasn't turned the right way." He motioned to her belly, "You'll both die if we don't try." She stopped pacing and faced him, leaning on the wall. She'd told them they could speak the truth, she knew she was dying, but now that someone was, it put a cold fear in her heart. She turned away from him, clinging to the shutter, listening to the rain as another contraction tore through her.
As it ebbed, tears stung her eyes and she watched a flash of light pierce the cracks in the window. You will lose your son... She swallowed and said, "We named him well." She looked up at the gift Lohke had given her where Andol's name was carved. "Andol." She said his name and it hurt, her throat thick with emotion. Tears finally rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the sweat and she clambered back towards the bed as the winter storm bayed like a mad hound outside.
Kitchka answered, "You named him after the winter rains?"
She laughed lightly as she grabbed onto the bed post again, "Well, his father is Cold Hammer, why shouldn't our son be cold water?"
There was a slight laugh and then Chigun said, "You cursed yourself to have him in the first winter storm." They all laughed this time, and they must've been delirious to be doing so, she knew they all knew they were sharing one last laugh together.
They continued that way until a gruff voice spoke behind them, "I'm glad we're all amused by my son being born in the middle of this forsaken storm." His voice was cold but she could detect the undertone of amusement.
The tears on her face beforehand couldn't match the ones that freely leapt down her face now as she twisted her head, a smile spreading as she caught sight of the one person who could make this all better. He was soaked to the bone, dripping water onto the floor, but nothing else mattered when his eyes met hers.
"You're here." She whispered.
He scanned her from head to toe and she saw the worry immediately start to fill his eyes. "Lohke, I got your message yesterday, why isn't the baby here yet?" Her smile softened. Her orc warrior, always blunt and to the point. She held one hand out towards him.
"Come be with me." She commanded quietly and no one answered him. His eyes rested on the shaman for a long moment, he knew something was wrong, but he sealed his lips and walked forward. He took her hand and kissed the side of her face and Lohke set his hand on Cold Hammer's shoulder.
"Your mate is strong," he told him lowly and she could hear the thickness in Lohke's voice.
Cold Hammer answered no one, just leaned his forehead against her cheek. She didn't want to face the truth with him just yet, she wanted to savor that he was here with her, she wanted to pretend everything was alright. "Did you get Borzhed?"
"You were right," he murmured, "he tried to kill me three times."
"Just three?"
"No, but those were the only times he actually got close to doing it."
"I'm glad Borzhed didn't get the best of you. I relish the thought of killing you and Lohke together."
He pulled back to look down at her, confusion in his eyes, "What did I do, I haven't been here?"
"Exactly," she told him, "Lohke sent you away and you left. Not to mention your seed is doing this to me." Everyone chuckled again until another worthless contraction shook her and the room fell silent. Cold Hammer was even more concerned by the end of it.
When he spoke, she heard the emotion in his voice, "What's wrong?"
"I'm not going to make, Cold Hammer."
"Do not speak it." He snapped a little harshly.
"Shhh," she clutched his hand and held it to her face.
Chigun spoke up in the background, "Shaman, I think the roots are ready?"
"Mash them, make them into a soup, but keep them boiling as you do so. Stoke the fire."
Cold Hammer's eyes went wide and he jerked his head up to stare at Griesling, "The roots?"
"It's the only way, Cold Hammer." Griesling answered him.
"That could kill them both."
"But she could live. The baby could yet live."
She didn't get to hear Cold Hammer's answer as a contraction pushed through her with an intensity she hadn't felt before, it felt like something inside of her was shredding, tearing her apart and she screamed as her legs gave out. Cold Hammer somehow managed to catch her and his voice was a distant shouting, her vision blurring.
When everything cleared a little more, Kitchka, Cilla, and Zevra were over her and there was a concerning amount of blood on Cilla's hands. Her eyes spoke volumes, "There's too much blood."
"What does that mean?" Cold Hammer demanded.
"That means hold her while you can!" Griesling called from across the room as he shoved Chigun out of the way and mashed the roots himself with a hasty pace.
"Do something!" Cold Hammer yelled but she grabbed his arm and caught his attention.
"Move." She commanded the orc women lightly and they shuffled to her other side, out of his way, and she tugged him closer. "Get in the bed. Hold me, please." Cold Hammer froze in place and she'd never seen so much grief in a face before, so much disbelief. He'd come home expecting a baby to already be here, instead he'd come home to find them both dying. The realization of it was blooming in his eyes.
He swallowed, and stepped closer, his movements stiff and climbed into the bed. He was shaking as he sat behind her and pulled her back against his chest and she didn't know if it was because of the cold rain that still covered his clothes or the fear. As he settled, she sighed. This was all she'd wanted.
"Just hold me." She murmured and he set his chin on her shoulder, leaning his face against hers.
"Please stay."
She didn't get to answer him as another contraction tore through her and she screamed again, fresh tears following while Cilla and Zevra pressed back in, They were talking to her but she couldn't hear them as she cried and Cilla checked her and came away with even more blood than before.
It scared her to death. She didn't want to die. She didn't want her and Cold Hammer's peace to end like this, with her and their son's death. It wasn't fair. There was so much she'd wanted to do.
She thought Cold Hammer was shouting again, there were tear filled eyes everywhere she looked except for Shaman Griesling who was sprinting forward now with a hot bowl. It was too hot, he hadn't let it cool down at all, but he brought it to her anyways, pushing between Cilla and Zevra. He held it to her lips, face set in a determined grimace. "Drink it, Sheobulf, drink it! I swear to you, I'll try to save you both."
She drank, knowing this was it. This was where she lost her happiness and peace. This was where she lost her son. She could hear Cold Hammer but she could no longer see, her vision was too blurry, "Stay with me, don't leave me. I cannot raise our son without you." She knew her eyes were open but she felt numb. "Sheobulf? Sheobulf?" She barely registered Cold Hammer's voice. Then she heard the panic as he started screaming. "Erinne? Save her! Do something! Erinne!"
Then there was nothing.