Wind and Stone

Chapter 1: Talfryn Lily was losing too much blood. Talfryn could feel the increased tension in the room, despite not having said a word about it, and tried to ignore it. He needed to stay calm and collected, and he needed to stop the bleeding, or she would die, and soon. “Why isn’t she crying?” asked Myrna, standing nearby holding Lily’s infant. “There’s something wrong with her.” “I’ll have a look at her in a moment,” said Talfryn, keeping his swearing to himself. Lily’s light skin was paler than ever and her breathing was poor. Again he wished the midwife wasn’t at a house halfway around the mountain—he was only an apothecary, after all, and while he’d attended births and assisted with spells and potions, the actual delivery portion of the event was not something he was overly skilled in. “I’m sure Dad’ll be back soon with the midwife,” said Akton, his voice helping Talfryn to relax. The man he loved sounded calm, words firm reassurance. “I gave him my horse. There’s been no snow in days. He’ll bring her back.” Talfryn concentrated on keeping Lily warm as he considered how to stop the bleeding. Though he generally kept it a secret, he was a salamander shifter, and therefore had extensive flame abilities. Abilities that he’d honed to kill a few short months ago. Abilities that could also aid. He used them now to keep the bed warm, heat the water, cause the lanterns to burn bright. If Myrna noticed, she wasn’t saying anything about it. He gave Lily one of his spell packets that should help the bleeding and waited, keeping her comfortable and observing. He’d given her something for the pain during labor, and he swallowed as he thought she’d at least be relaxed if she died now. He didn’t want her to die. She wasn’t supposed to die. Talfryn could feel Akton’s green eyes on him, watching, waiting for any direction Talfryn gave. Since they had returned from the Queen’s City, certain they wanted to stay together, Akton had been helping Talfryn more and more. He was less like an apprentice and more like an assistant, but Talfryn liked working with him and knew without a doubt he could count on him. “Myrna,” said Talfryn, not wanting to think what would happen if he let this woman die. Lily was Myrna’s wife of years, this was their second child, and Akton had made him well aware of just how important every last person was out here in the rugged mountainside. They weren’t even a proper town, just a haphazard collection of homes and farms surviving on whatever work they could. “Will Lily be fine now?” she asked. Nearing his late twenties, Talfryn had witnessed death a few times, sometimes had even killed. Nothing ever made it easy, but he was an expert at making his face unreadable. He nodded to the bed. “I gave her something that should help staunch the bleeding, but I think you ought to lie next to her. She’s very cold. I’m sure Akton can take his niece for a few minutes.” “I’ll promise not to drop her,” said Akton. The quiet, pink baby was passed from bloodless sister to pale brother, and Myrna settled into bed next to Lily. Talfryn examined her as Myrna stroked her hair and murmured to her. “Don’t let her sleep,” he said, very concerned now. His spell had decreased the loss, certainly, but he didn’t think it would stop the blood in time to save her life. He glanced back at Akton. His white arms wrapped around the infant stood out in the highly lit room, the concern in his eyes shining directly at Talfryn, letting him know he understood the situation. He took a step forward as Talfryn found himself edging close to panic. He couldn’t panic—if he did, Lily would definitely die. But he didn’t know what else to do. “Tal,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know—” “I’ll get you another spell,” said Akton, not allowing him to say he wasn’t sure he could keep Lily from dying. Talfryn shook his head. “Spells won’t help,” he said. Akton’s gaze hardened. “Then what are you going to do?” Talfryn turned back to where Lily lay and swallowed. He didn’t have long to decide, but even when his mind found a solution, he still hesitated. It was Myrna who snapped him out of it. “She’s dying, isn’t she,” she said, not a question, leaning up from where she was. Lily had passed out anyway. “I can think of one other way to stop the bleeding, but you won’t like it. This will be her last child.” “Will it kill her?” asked Myrna. Talfryn shook his head. “Not likely, but the bleeding definitely will.” “Do it,” said Myrna, and turned back to hold her wife. She didn’t even ask what it was, which was just as well. Although she vaguely knew of Talfryn’s shifter abilities, he doubted she would very much like what he was about to do. He didn’t much like it. He’d never cauterized anyone before, not with his flame powers. He would have to be so delicate, so very precise…and so very fast. He took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and summoned his connection to fire. It crackled through him, a warm, excited friend, and he concentrated, recalled all the times he’d done precise work with it. He’d struggled to warm cloth without igniting it at first, but there was no room for error now. His first time using it to stop bleeding would have to be perfect. Talfryn closed his eyes, rested his hands on Lily, and began.