[Day 5/Day 1 - just before dawn]

Grumbling and shifting gingerly to her other side, Saleh tried to rub
the persistent ache from her lower back, without success.  The baby was
putting so much pressure against her back and her lungs - and even her
bladder - that she could hardly get any sleep at all, and the days were
almost a blur of discomfort.

Awkwardly getting up from her sleeping mat, sighing at the extra effort
it took these days, the young Nomad woman shuffled across the room to
slip on the loose robes she'd draped over the chair the night before and
then relieved some of the pressure in her pelvis, at least until the
next time nature called - in about half an hour.

She was just trudging back to her mat when there was a persistent
knocking at the door, the reverberations giving Daoud's snores some
respectable competition.

"Who knocks?" she hissed through the still-closed door, wanting neither
to awaken her father nor to admit a stranger.

"Andorra.  We must talk."

Saleh quickly opened the door to Andahar's cousin, eying her in the weak
light of the single candle she'd lit.  "What is there to talk about?"

"You and Reain - fighting.  I will not have such battles in my tribe.
You come with me to see her.

Saleh opened her mouth to argue, but the look on Andorra's face brooked
no refusal.  Combing out her long hair took too much effort in her weary
state, so she simply knotted it loosely at the nape of her neck before
following Andorra out the door.

[snip of Darren's post]

The door shook with the knock as Reain walked to it.  It was not even
sun up and who was calling on them in this hour?  She opened the door
and there stood Andorra, behind her was Saleh.  "What do you want before
I shut this door in your face?"

"Reain, I am Dain of Avanash, and you will come with me, chunor of the
chief.  Do not make me speak with Andahar."  She squared her shoulders
and gave her a hard look.  Rainin nodded and followed as she led them
back to her stone tent.

Andorra sat on a pillow and let the two girls sit on the floor.  A pot
of tea sat between them and she poured some for them.  "I have brought
you here because I have some things to discuss with you."  She sipped
some tea and looked at them, the two just shot daggers at each other.
"You are both to be part of MY tribe, one a wife, the other a chunor.
You both claim to love the same man, Andahar.  I am here to speak to you
on his behalf."

She set her cup down loudly and the two heads turned to look at her.
"This tribe is a family, and you two will enter this family as sisters!
You Saleh, you are to be a wife, loving and supportive of your husband.
Now he needs your support, for he is to wed, not for love, but for
honor.  And you should feel happy for this, for he is sacrificing his
happiness for your peace.  You owe him a great deal, for he will provide
for your child and give it a good name and a good place.  He will grow
to be a strong warrior.  He will shower you with honor and grace.

You will server him as a wife, humble and meek, because you should
sacrifice at least as much as he.  If this is not so, if you should
cause him more shame.  If you insist on being the burr in the saddle,
then I will relive you of your duty to him.  You can live in a tent away
from him, and I will
raise your son, not as a warrior but as a holy man.  I will not tolerate
discord in my tribe.  Andahar cannot tell you these things because he
thinks you are frail and soft women.  He will keep thinking this, but I
know better."

[end snip]

Saleh, still feeling drowsy from her poor night's sleep, and shifting
irritably against the recurrent ache in her back, let the sound of
Andorra's voice drone on like an incomprehensible buzzing in her ear as
she twitched yet again in response to the relentless discomfort.  Her
son had better do great things to make up for the agony he had caused
his mother even before he was born.

When she heard the words, "I will raise your son, not as a warrior but
as a holy man," she sat bolt upright, her body protesting the sudden
movement with another twinge of pain.  No one was going to raise her son
but her.  Opening her mouth to protest, the words caught in her throat
as yet another spasm racked her, while Andorra was already turning to
look the other way.

[snip]

She turned to look at Reain.  "Reain, one I would call sister.  I know
your plight, I know what it is like to be chunor.  It is hard to accept
another into your tent.  But this is Andahar's tent, not yours.  Your
love is following the dictates of honor.  I know it sounds foolish.  But
it is a
matter that is left to men, and men do as they see fit.  You say you
love him, and then you support him as well.

"You are chunor to a man who loves you, and your sweet benna.  Can one
ask for more from the gods than to be with the ones that you love?  But
you seem to begrudge him of the fact that he must marry.  You toss down
a happy union, one already blessed with a child.  You would expect no
less from him if you were in her place.  So why do you hate her so for
wanting what is
right from him?

"Both of you should be ashamed.  Because of your selfish behavior you
have caused that blood should be spilt in the tent of Avanasha.  Because
you cannot see that there is one thing that ties you together you have
caused hate to swell like a serpent between you.  He loves you both, and
honors you both.  If you love and honor him, put down your hate.  I will
not warn you again."

Andorra looked at them, shaking with fear and anger.  "I have spoken
rough I know, but I feel it is nessesary.  We will be family, and so we
should love as family."  She looked at the two, waiting to hear a
response.

[end snip]

Saleh struggled to get to her feet from the hard floor.  Cradling the
mound of her belly in her left arm, she pointed at the pendant orb with
her right forefinger.  "This is MY baby, MY son!" she ground out.  "No
one will raise him but ME!  This woman...this chunor," she indicated
Reain with a broad sweep of her arm, "she tried to hurt my baby.  Now
you," she turned back to Andorra, "you threaten to take my baby away.
No one is going to do anything to my baby!"

And with that Saleh stormed out of Andorra's stone tent, arms wrapped
protectively around her middle.  Ambling as quickly as she could, Saleh
made a beeline for the med center, and the support she hoped to find
there.

****

Feysal's back was to the door when Saleh strolled through it without
knocking, but he turned quickly at the sound of her heavy footsteps, his
scowl instantly transforming into a gentle smile that would have warmed
Saleh had she not been filled with a cold anger.  Holding open his arms,
the young Nomad enfolded the girl as snugly within them as he could.
Nuzzling against her hair, Feysal stroked her back, the repetitive
motion soothing them both - easing Feysal's frustration at his enforced
inactivity, and allowing him for a brief moment to forgot that she was
intended for another, and tempering Saleh's ire at all of the
interference she was having to suffer.

"I still love you," Feysal admitted at last, "even though you lay with
Andahar and carry his child."  His hands clenched into fists behind her
back even as he spoke the words.

"Love is not what matters now," Saleh said quietly.  "My son must be
provided for.  He is what is important.  I have no other choice."

Feysal tensed at her words, turning away, his knuckles gleaming white as
he made tighter fists.  "He should have been our son."  He spoke so
softly Saleh barely heard him.

"Things do not always work out as we would want.  Others make
difficulties for us.  Even you," she accused hotly.  "If you had not
been fooled by false god, we might have been together.  Now we must live
with what remains."

His head whipped around at her charge, his eyes shooting sparks.  "Do
not say that, Saleh.  Your words are sharper than my sword.  Better that
you should cut off my arm," Feysal's hand slashed through the air toward
his forearm below the bandage, "than cut at my heart with your
dagger-like tongue."

"If you do not like my words, I will not stay for you to have to hear
them."  After the door slammed behind her, the echoes resonated like her
words on the air.

****

Her rapid breaths sent bursts of the medicinal smells that permeated the
hallway into her nose, wrinkling it as the unpleasant odor brought back
memories of the previous day.  She had waited far too long for news that
her baby was okay.  That Feysal's injury was not life-threatening.  And
then she had had to speak with the warrenlady.  Had to listen to Cynthia
threaten to banish Andahar for fighting in the dining hall.  Saleh had
thought quickly - if Andahar was banished, she would have no
husband...and no father for her baby.

"Andahar is good man," she had told the warrenlady.  "Just as Feysal is
good man.  They both try to do what is right.  Reain is no good woman,"
Saleh scowled.  "She nearly kill my baby, my son.  She is jealous
because I will give Andahar this son - one who will bring much honor to
him and his tribe - no daughter like hers...."  She broke off as
Cynthia's gaze narrowed, seeing that this was the wrong tack to take.
Feeling trapped, she had settled on the simplest solution.  Cradling her
womb in her hands, she had grimaced, bringing a look of alarm to the
warrenlady's face.  "I must rest," she told Cynthia.  "Andorra has
ordered that, so that no more harm comes to my baby."

Cynthia nodded as Saleh turned away, the med center door swinging closed
behind her.

****

[early afternoon]

Arching her back, Saleh tried to find a less uncomfortable position in
the hard dining hall chair.  As she shifted, she caught sight of Reain
and Andahar entering the hall side by side across the room from where
she sat with her father.  It ate at her to see the two of them
together.  She was determined that things would change once she was the
wife - and therefore superior to the little bitch of a chunor.  Her
glare followed them as they crossed the hall to fill their plates before
finding seats for themselves.

"That man had better come with good bride-price soon," Daoud commented
without lifting his gaze from his plate.  "My patience wears thin.  You
are young and strong, able to bear him many sons.  This makes you of
great value.  He should admit this and come with many horses and other
worthy offerings."

"He seems to value that chunor more than any other," Saleh retorted, her
eyes boring holes in Reain's dark head.  "He should have been there to
hear Andorra's words this morning, when she spoke of him doing what is
right."

Daoud nodded, his attention fully returned to his meal.  This question
of his daughter's bride-price would be settled eventually, he reminded
himself.  Andahar's sense of honor could lead him to do no less than
marry the girl who carried his child.  He would come around soon enough.

As Saleh lifted another small bite of meat to her lips, her breath
caught as the twinges in her back intensified, radiating around to the
front and tensing her belly firmly for a long minute.  When the
experience repeated itself several minutes later, her eyes flew wide as
the realization dawned on her.  It was too soon - far too soon.  How
would she ever explain it?

With a barely adequate excuse hastily given to her father, Saleh hurried
straight back to the med center - that is, if you could call stopping to
clutch at her cramping abdomen every few yards hurrying.  She hoped
desperately that the healers would give her something to make it stop.

The clamor of the dragons announcing the hatching went unheeded as the
staggering young woman clenched the jamb of the door until the wave of
torment subsided.  The sounds of running feet accompanied her cries for
help.  Leaning against the healer who put an arm around the Nomad woman
to support her, Saleh let herself be led to one of the examining rooms.

Nails digging into her palms as she fought against the pain, Saleh
gasped as hands probed and prodded, seeking answers.  The voices were a
blur, the bodies formless, as they moved about the room - sometimes
louder, others softer...at times increasing her misery, at others
leaving her mercifully alone.

Finally S'lomon said to her, "Your child has decided it is time to make
an entrance into the world, Saleh.  We're going to move you to the
birthing chamber."

"No!" Saleh rasped.  "You must do something."  She bit down hard on her
lip as yet another pain gripped her.  "...too soon."

A hand rested lightly on her shoulder.  "I'm afraid it's too late.
There is nothing we can do now but let nature take its course."

****

Writhing amidst the damp sheets, Saleh felt another scream torn out of
her raw throat.  The late afternoon sun glowed red against her closed
eyelids and further baked her already overheated skin.  Her hands ached
from being clenched into fists as one contraction after another
threatened to tear her apart.  Tears slipped out to run down the sides
of her fiery cheeks, pooling in her ears before dripping down to join
all of the droplets of moisture drenching the bed.

"No more," she whimpered past cracked and bloodied lips.  "I cannot take
any more.  Make this go away."  She turned her head to one side, heaving
as her empty stomach rebelled against the unending torture.  "You must
make this stop," she sobbed.

A cool, wet cloth swiped at her flushed face, brushing aside her sodden
hair and quelling momentarily the searing flesh.  Another was pressed
again her torn lips, and she sucked greedily at the liquid it contained
before a surge of nausea claimed it again.

Into this agony a sharp voice intruded into her mind.  {You are
hurting.  It frightens me. You must make it stop,} the words echoed
Saleh's earlier plea.

"Who said that?" the Nomad girl queried.

"Who said what?" the midwife wondered in bemusement, as no one but the
laboring woman had spoken recently.

{I did, my rider.  I am Mystarria, and I had to leave my dam and my
clutchmates to come here to find you,} the voice complained petulantly.

"Rider?" Saleh whispered in astonishment while another contraction
gripped her in its unrelenting vise.

"No, dear.  I'm not a rider," the midwife stated calmly, placing a fresh
compress on Saleh's brow.

{Yes, you are my rider and I am your dragon,} the hatchling explained
testily.

{{Where are you?}}

{Where I can see you, though I can't fit through the opening,} came the
fretful reply.

Saleh struggled to lift her head, her gaze sweeping around the room to
alight almost instantly on the window, where a small, frosty-gray dragon
head rested on the sill, coal-black eyes gleaming brightly.

{I'm hungry.  Feed me,} the hatchling demanded.

{{I can't.}}  Saleh tossed restlessly about in the tangle of bedclothes.

{Is it because you are feeding your own hatchling?  Well, if you are,
you can give some of the food to me.  I need it just as much.  Maybe
more since I'm so much bigger.}

{{My hatchling - my baby - is still trying to be born,}} Saleh moaned.
"But if he doesn't get here soon," she cried aloud, "I'm going to die."

"You're not going to die," the midwife reassured her.  "Your baby will
be here soon.  It looks like you're getting close now."  The woman
turned away to soak the compresses in cool water again.

{Rider, there is a human next to me now.  I think you had better talk to
her.  I don't know what she wants.}

Straining to lift herself up enough to look out the window once more,
the Nomad girl's deep brown eyes locked with the equally dark gaze of
the Lady Madyllin.

"Saleh?  Mystarria has joined with you?"

The only response was a deep, guttural groan that rose and fell in pitch
in correspondence to the tensing and releasing of her womb.

"Well, *this* is just lovely," Maddy snapped.   "I suppose now I'm going
to have to see that the hatchling gets fed."

"Yes," Saleh panted.  "You feed her."  Another moan rasped in her
throat.  Then suddenly a different, entirely unfamiliar feeling replaced
the misery she had been enduring - one that made her catch her breath
and tighten her abdominal muscles in response.

The midwife, who had been occupied fetching more clean linens, broke
in.  "Lady Madyllin, this woman is having a baby and doesn't need to be
bothered by conversation through the window.  Please come back later.
I'm sure everything can be sorted out then."  Bustling back to her
tasks, the woman indicated the matter closed.

Madyllin started to protest then realized the effort would likely be
futile.  <Ayesha, please tell Mystarria to come with me to the hatchling
barracks.  I'll get her fed and settled in there.>

<She won't leave her rider.  She says you have to bring food to her.>
Almost out of earshot of their mindbond she muttered, <I knew this one
was stubborn.  She must get it from her sire's line.>

Gaze fixed on the hatchling, Maddy took in the firm set of the little
dragon's jaw and her fierce look.  With another deep sigh, she took off
to retrieve a large bucket of meat - or several, more likely.  She would
have to enlist some help.

****

Hunched over as much as possible given her bulky middle, Saleh clasped
her legs with both hands, drawing her knees up as high as she could and
bearing down with a prolonged grunt.

"That's right, keep pushing.  You're almost there," the midwife
encouraged.

Again and again, she curled herself over the baby and pushed with all
her strength, collapsing back onto the bed when the urge passed briefly,
struggling to catch her breath before the overwhelming impulses gripped
her anew.  Abruptly a burning sensation began to build, setting fire to
her sensitive tissues.  Wailing in protest of the searing pain, she
fought against the unremitting throbbing that accompanied her body
stretching to accommodate the baby's passage into the world.

Her ear-splitting shriek filled the chamber, her body, her entire
consciousness, until it was at long last pierced by an echoing cry.  In
the instant that she recognized it for what it was, every hurt was
obscured by the intense surge of euphoria at the first sight of her
baby, her son.

Reaching down without thought, she grasped him in her warm hands,
drawing him the rest of the way from the protective embrace of her body
and into her loving arms.  The little rosebud mouth rooted against her
damp skin, nuzzling as he searched.  Turning him carefully, positioning
his head so that his lips grazed her nipple, she let pure instinct guide
her as she led the baby to suckle at her breast.  She gasped when he
latched on suddenly, the momentary sharp twinge easing as he settled
into the uneven rhythm of a newborn nursing.  She gazed down in awe at
his small body, taking inventory of the perfect little toes and tuft of
dark hair on his crown.  Her fingers slowly caressed the velvety skin,
marveling at its exquisite delicacy.

The midwife and an assistant were cleaning her up and wiping the baby
off when another sudden grunt that burst from Saleh caught everyone by
surprise.

"What is it?  Are you having more pain?" she was asked insistently.

Wide-eyed, she shook her head, her body instinctively curling around
itself as another urge to push hit.  There was an abrupt flurry of
activity when an examination revealed that Saleh did in fact carry
another child.  One final, sustained push brought a second son into the
world.

"Andahar will be thrilled to learn that he has not one but two sons
now," the midwife said, handing Saleh the second baby to cradle to her
breast.

"No, you mustn't tell him.  Not yet," she insisted.  "Tomorrow, when I
have rested and regained my strength.  Then I can face him.  Then I will
tell him."

****

[NRPG:  Thanks to KK for her help in ensuring that I portrayed Maddy and
Ayesha correctly and also in titling the post.]


Submitted by:

Dana Zuhlke

Saleh and Mystarria

Cleft Warren

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