Awakenings

            Thom’s hand spasmed around mine before he shoved me behind him, fingers untangling from mine.  I groped for my bow as his blade rasped free of its scabbard.

            “Just stay behind me,” he said in a tight voice.

            “I can—”

            “Just stay behind me,” he repeated, more firmly this time.  There was no hint of pleading in his voice, just the tone of command I’d grown used to hearing over the years—though rarely directed at me, usually directed to others.

            We’d been out here alone for a long while, though.  It had been a long time since I’d heard that tone.

            “Peace!” a voice called.  The brush in front of us rustled, a young face peeking out from amidst the branches and leaves.  His eyes were bright green, copper around the pupils, and I sucked in a sharp breath. He reminded me of both Phelan and Thom all at once.

            “Gods and monsters,” I breathed, clutching at Thom’s arm before I eased him aside.  “Come out,” I said, my tone far gentler than my husband’s.  “Come out, we won’t hurt you.”

            Thom looked at me askance and I waved him into silence, easing past him toward the brush and the thin but broad-shouldered young man emerging from the brush.  His dark auburn hair was cropped short, feathery, freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose.  I took a deep breath.  He was of age with our son, perhaps a year older at most.

            “What’s your name?” I whispered.

            “Seamus,” he answered, staring at me for a moment before his gaze flicked toward Thom, who only sheathed his sword when he’d gotten a good look at the boy’s face.  “For my Da’s brother.”

            “I know,” I said, taking a step toward him.  “Teague is your father.”

            He blinked at me, then looked at Thom. “How did you—?”

            “Take us to him,” Thom said.  “There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

            The boy nodded warily, turning away. I gripped Thom’s arm as my vision began to dim.

            “Marin?”

            “I’m fine,” I whispered, though I wasn’t.

            Darkness swallowed me whole.

J.T. and Jacqueline were both with Tala by the time I got there.  She had a death-grip on Phelan’s hand and he looked like he was feeling every ounce of her strength bearing down on that hand.  I tried to avoid looking at what Jacqueline and J.T. were up to as I circled the fire.

“I’m here,” I said as I knelt down on the other side of Tala.  She leaned against a set of shelves, pillows shoved behind her for comfort.  Sweat was already beading at her hairline as I reached to push her hair back from her face.  Her gaze flicked toward me and he sagged slightly in relief.

“Mar,” she whispered.  “Mar, it’s too soon.  They’re too early.  What are we going to do?”

I caught her hand and squeezed hard.  “Everything’s going to be okay,” I told her even as her expression tightened as another contraction hit.  “I promise.  We’re all here to help you.”

Jacqueline glanced up toward us, giving me a grim, tight smile.  “Early or not, they’re coming fast.  We’re going to need you to start pushing after the next one, Tala.”

Tala swallowed, looking at Phelan and then at me.  “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay,” I told her, holding her hand.  “You don’t have to be scared.  Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Did you see it?” she asked.

I nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah I did.  I’ve seen them playing in the arboretum and out on the golf course playing with my son and Neve and Cameron’s kids with Angie making sure they don’t fall into the ravine or get lost.  I’ve seen it, Tala.  Everything’s going to be fine.”

I could almost feel Ériu’s smile.  She was near, I could tell from the quick glance up that J.T. gave, the way his eyes widened slightly before he looked down again. She was hovering behind me, watching over Tala the same as Phelan and I.

“You wouldn’t lie to me about that, right?” Tala asked in a whisper.

“No,” I promised, squeezing her hand again.  “I would never lie to you about that.”

“Get ready to push, Tala.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard, nodding.  “Thanks, Mar.”

“Push now.”

She squeezed my hand so hard I was sure my hand would break, but I squeezed her hand back just as hard, hoping to give her something else to concentrate on rather than how much it must have hurt.  She didn’t scream, only swore in a hoarse whisper, swearing in the German she’d learned in high school, the Latin she’d learned here at the university.  I understood some of the words but didn’t listen to them.

I was too busy watching something she couldn’t see, something no one else could see.

Gods and monsters and bloody hell.

                Bloody hell.

I couldn’t breathe and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the image would go away.

Unfortunately, my visions have never, ever worked that way.

It had me and wasn’t going to let me go.

I swore under my breath as I ran for the tent, cursing and muttering the same thing over and over again—“It’s too early, it’s too early.”

The ghost at my side eventually made an annoyed sound as I neared the flap.  “Stop your fretting,” she said sternly.  “It’s not too soon and you knew full well that your calculations were likely off regarding when she conceived.  You know that all will be well, so just stop.”

“How dare you speak to—” I rounded on her and stopped dead in my tracks, suddenly realizing that for the first time, I could see her clear as day, as clearly as I might see Thom or Jacqueline or J.T. standing next to me.  Before today, before this moment, I’d only caught fleeting glimpses, only been able to hear her voice or see her as a wavering shadow or a faint and fading outline, an eye, a smile, then nothing.  She stared back at me, her fine-boned jaw set stubbornly, a fire in her ghostly eyes that felt achingly familiar.

“Speak to who?” She whispered.  “To my mother?  To you?”

I rocked back a step, feeling sick.  I knew what I had been to her in a life long gone, but I didn’t always like to be reminded of that past life.  My soul’s residence in the body of a strong-willed chieftain of ancient Ireland had certainly made a small difference in my continued survival, played some small role in my relationships with the people around me, but it didn’t define me.  “That’s a low blow.”

“But one truly struck,” she said quietly.  “You remind me of her so greatly—right down to the fretting over things that are well beyond your ability to control.”  The ghost stepped closer to me.  “She will be fine and you know that in your heart, in your gut—your visions have shown you that, haven’t they?”

“They’re not always right,” I whispered, giving voice to the awful truth that I avoided as eagerly as I occasionally embraced it.  “They’re not always right.”

“Marin!”

I straightened ignoring the shakiness in my limbs as I turned away from the ward that I’d been working on.  People would be upset if they learned I was pushing myself too hard and Thom or Phelan or someone wouldn’t let me out of their sight.  I squinted against the winter sunshine to see a red-faced Carolyn stumbling through the snow toward me, her jacket zipped and scarf dangling as if she’d been sent to find me just as she’d started to unbundle herself after a trip to the greenhouse and back.

What the hell is attacking us now?  I started to walk toward her, brows knitting at the stark terror on her face.

“What’s attacking?”

“What?”  She skidded to a halt, staring at me.  “No, it’s nothing like that.  It’s Tala.”

My stomach dropped.  “What happened to Tala?”

“Her water broke.  The baby’s coming.”

The twins are coming.  A shudder shot through me.  It felt too early.  Our rough math said it was too early.

What if we were wrong?  What if we were right and these babies are…if they…

“Trust your visions.”

I jerked toward the sound of Ériu’s voice, swearing heartily.  Carolyn just blinked at me.

“What are you—”

“Nothing,” I growled.  “Where is she?”

“We were doing laundry by the secondary fire.  Phelan sent me to get you when I found him and Jac.”

I have no idea why.  I swallowed bile and pointed back toward the tents.  “Move.  I don’t know why he sent you to get me, but I’m sure he’s got his reasons.  Did anyone go to find Jay?”

“I don’t know.”

Bloody fantastic.  He should have sent her to find J.T. before he sent her after me.  Idiot.  “Go find him.  If he wasn’t in the tents, he’s up at the forge with my brother.  Bring him fast and tell him he needs his kit.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to go chew Phelan out,” I said.  “After we do what we need to do for Tala and the twins.”

“R-right.”  Carolyn gulped in a breath and dashed off toward the hill, toward the forge.  I watched her go for a bare moment before Ériu’s voice returned.

“You’d best hurry,” she warned me softly.  “They’ll need you, though perhaps not in the way you think.”

I swore again and ran for the tents.

The remainder of January—all two and a half weeks—and the first week of February passed with relative peace and quiet aside from a sudden blizzard that left us trapped in the tents or our rooms for two days before it was safe to venture outside.  After the first week, Thom began to worry.  By the second, J.T., my brother, Phelan, and Thordin had joined him.

By the end of the third week, I’d begun worrying—and worrying something fierce.  It wasn’t like the weeks before Cariocecus attacked, since at least then we’d known it was coming, there had been something to prepare for.

Now, there was nothing but snow and cold and isolation.  We didn’t know who else was out there beyond a group that had scryed on us, a community miles to the south that may not survive the winter, and Thom’s cousin and Neve’s brother out somewhere on the eastern seaboard of Canada.

Cabin fever coupled with paranoia makes for a very difficult existence.

I tried to stay out of everyone’s way, bundling myself in multiple layers and wandering out along the warding lines, checking to make sure they stayed strong.  More often than not, I wandered back to the warmth of camp with chilled fingers and windburn, but it kept me away from the worst of the restlessness that had set in.

Of course, Phelan was the worst.  Laid up as he was, he was the most restless of them all, and Jacqueline watched him like a hawk to make sure he didn’t get into anything that could make his condition worse.  He’d come down with a nasty cold that had more to do with his pushing himself too hard than his injuries.  That cold had left him grumpy and grumbling, almost impossible to deal with.

Spring showed no sign of showing up anytime soon, which didn’t surprise me, either.  What did surprise me was that trouble had taken such a long holiday.

You should be grateful, I told myself every day.  You should be grateful that it’s quiet, that no one’s come to try to kill all of us again.  There’s more than a few things out there that’s keen on killing Phelan at the very least—and probably all of us besides.

It was halfway through the second week of February when chaos reared her fair head again.

It was hours and a few dozen bruises later that the three men headed into the warmth of the forge as the winds began to pick up outside, sending snow swirling and drifting.  Their audience had grown and shrank as time passed, as the others began to get cold or finished up what they were doing and took a break to see what was going on up on the hill.

“You had more aggression to work through than I thought you would,” J.T. told Thom as the trio got settled inside.  Matt headed for his anvil while J.T. stepped over to the bellows.  Thom took a seat near the jury-rigged grinding stone, stretching cold, sore muscles that were already protesting the paces he’d put himself through.  “Something come up that we should be aware of?”

Thom shook his head, reclaiming his sketchbook.  “Not really.  Just frustrated in the middle of working on something for Marin and the baby is all.”

Matt raised a brow as he rubbed warmth back into his fingers.  “Anything we can help out with?”

“I’d planned on enlisting a little help from the two of you, yes.”  Thom sighed and turned up the lamp’s wick, flooding the space with light as the once-dim flame flared brighter with the addition of more fuel.  “Hoping that whatever I manage to design won’t be beyond my ability to create.”

“What the hell are you working on, Thom?”  J.T. began to work the bellows, starting to bring the coals back up to temperature again so Matt could get back to work.  “Sounds like you’re trying to design something ridiculously complex.”

Thom smiled faintly.  “Not complex, just special.  I’m designing a cradle.  I just hope that I can build it without hurting myself.”

“I fail to see how that would be beyond your abilities,” Matt said, picking up his hammer and a pair of tongs.  “Hell, you figured out how to give us radiant heat down there.”

“If this was an engineering problem, I doubt I’d be having this much difficulty.  It’s design.”  Thom sighed, staring at the cover of his sketchbook.  “Nothing seems right.”

“If you build it for my sister and that baby, Thom, it doesn’t matter what it looks like.”  Matt smiled lopsidedly.  “She’ll love it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Thom said quietly.  “God, do I ever hope you’re right.”

Tala glanced between the two, then nodded, lifting her hand and dropping it quickly.  “Lay on!”

J.T. came on hard and high, almost too quickly for Thom to properly react.  He ducked to the side, J.T.’s kendo stick missing him by bare inches.  He continued the motion, sidestepping quickly before pivoting on his left foot and leading with the tip of his kendo stick.

The leather-wrapped tip of the practice weapon caught in the fabric of J.T.’s parka across his spine but didn’t score a true touch.  J.T. darted forward and spun toward Thom, grinning.

“Very nice,” he said.

Thom’s grin matched his.  “But not quite good enough.”

“Not quite,” J.T. agreed, the tip of his kendo stick weaving an intricate pattern.  “But almost.”

“Remember, Jay, my sister might kill you if you leave too many marks on him,” Matt called from the sidelines.

J.T. laughed.  “I’ll just have to make sure I don’t leave that many marks.”

Somehow, I don’t think that means he’s not going to hit me.  Thom shook his head.  “You’ll have to actually score a hit to leave a mark, Jay.”

The medic smiled a dark, wicked smile, then struck like a cobra on the defensive.  Pain bloomed in Thom’s knee and he danced backward, swearing.

“Fuck me sideways, Jay,” Thom said, hopping on one foot in the snow.  “What did Matt just tell you about leaving marks?”

“You asked for it.  I’ve got witnesses,” his friend said.  “You okay?”

“I will be in a second.”  Thom scooped up a handful of snow in one gloved hand and pressed it against his knee, hoping to suck out the sting that was rising.  “That was a good hit.”

“Probably harder than I intended,” J.T. said.  “Come see me later if it starts swelling.”

“I’ll send Marin for revenge if this goes badly.”  Thom held the snow against his knee for a moment longer, then let the soggy mess drop to the ground next to his boot.  He worked his knee for a moment, then exhaled, nodding to Tala.  “All right.  We can resume.”

She nodded back.  “Right.  One nil in favor of Jay.  Lay on.”

Thom abandoned Thordin an hour later and headed up to the forge, his sketchbook tucked under one arm, whistling a tune that had been popular on the radio that summer.  He figured that J.T. and Matt would have worn each other out at least a little.

Ribs can probably take a tap or two from Jay at this point.  They’ve been feeling pretty good lately, and if he’s tired he’s likely not to hit as hard.  Marin won’t start a shouting match because I’m bruised to hell.

He smiled wryly.  At least I hope not.

There were half a dozen up on the hill now, watching J.T. and Matt square off.  Thom tucked his sketchbook safely into the warm darkness of the forge before he circled around the pair, who’d stopped after the last hit.  Tala, standing in as the referee, grinned at him as he approached.

“Going to relieve Matt so he can nurse his bruises?” she asked cheerfully.

“He’s been holding his own,” J.T. said, grinning.  Thom spotted Carolyn and Pippa in the group of spectators and killed his own grin.

“I imagine he would.  Good instincts.”  Thom stretched little as he made his way over the patch of trampled snow where J.T. and Matt had clearly been sparring for a while now.  “Really need a break, Matt?”

“I could probably use one,” the younger man admitted, offering his kendo stick to his brother-in-law.  “Going to put on a show for us?”

Thom snorted.  “A show, huh?  Probably not, but maybe.”  One corner of his mouth twitched upward toward a smile as he swung the bamboo weapon a little to get a feel for its weight and balance.  J.T. had a tendency to add extra weight to his sticks and this one wasn’t any different.

He fell into a fighting stance and gave J.T. a wicked grin.  “Well, then.  Let’s get this party started.”

“You know, they’re sparring up on the hill,” Thordin rumbled as he set down a pair of water buckets near the washbasin by the fire.  Thom glanced up from the sketchbook braced against his knee, one brow arched slightly.

“So I’ve been told,” he said, staring at the fifth sketch of a cradle he’d drawn since coming home from saving Phelan from his own stupidity.  There was something about it that still wasn’t quite right and he growled softly, eyes narrowing before he looked back up at Thordin.  “What about it?”

“You’re not going to go up there and have a look at what that’s all about?”

Thom shrugged, closing his sketchbook and tucking his pencil over his ear.  “Why?  It’s just Jay and Matt working on Matt’s blade skills.  After we left him behind I’m sure that he needs to blow off some steam.”

Thordin crossed his arms.  “Who told you all about it already?”

“Marin.  She was surprised you weren’t up there partaking in the violence-making yet.”

Thordin snorted.  “As skilled as I am with a blade, I prefer axes and the techniques that J.T. is working on with Matt aren’t necessarily techniques fighting against me would reinforce.”

“All the more reason for you to get up there,” Thom observed.  “We’re not going to be fighting people using the same techniques as us all the time, are we?”

“I think there’s a lot of people here would prefer not to face another fight at all.”

Thom closed his eyes and sighed softly.  “We know that’s probably not something that we’ll have in the immediate future.”

“Maybe not.”  Thordin shrugged slightly.  “I’m not interested in going back out in the cold right now.  Your wife gave me a lovely book that I think I’m going to settle in with for a little while if you don’t mind sharing the fire.”

He shook his head.  “Not at all.  I’m just working on some sketches.”

“I spied a surprise for Marin,” Thordin said.  “Why are you working on it down here instead of up at the forge like you usually would be?”

Thom shook his head again.  “Because there’s not enough light up at the forge and Matt’s been irritable lately because he’s having trouble melting down some of the scrap.  I’ve been trying to stay out of his way until he figures it out.”

“Huh,” Thordin said, glancing toward the entrance to the non-communal areas, the rows of sheds knit together with plywood and insulation, roofing and rafters.  “He should ask Phelan for his thoughts on that.”

“He’s leaving Phelan alone to rest on threat of pain induced by Jac,” Thom said, flipping his sketchbook to a fresh page.  “I give it another few days before she lets him start being closer to normal again.”

Thordin smiled wryly.  “You mean meddling and making everyone crazy?”

Thom’s smile matched his.  “Something like that, anyway.  Go get your book.  I won’t mind company if you don’t mind curses.”

“If I minded those, I’d have been in big trouble back when.”  Thordin’s wry smile grew into a grin.  “I’ll be back.”

Thom nodded absently, returning his attention to the blank page.  He smoothed a hand over the sheet and exhaled.

He needed to get this right before he headed up for any sort of fun.  He’d made that unspoken promise to Marin, even though the cradle was going to be a surprise.

Of course, if this one goes badly, I might need to work out some aggression.

He smiled to himself and nodded slightly, then put graphite to paper again, settling in to work.