"Grief" by A.M. Guynes

            Kendara walked into her parents’ house with her usual quick step.  Her father smiled up at her, though his eyes held none of their normal spark.  Lord Ethander was deeply concerned for his delicate wife.  Kendara walked over to where her mother was sitting.  “Good morning mother,” she said brightly.

            Lady Mishara smiled wanly at her daughter.  “Good morning yourself, Bright Eyes,” she said in a weak voice.  “How’s our little bird?”

            Kendara laid a hand on her gravid womb.  “She was fluttering madly against my ribcage a few minutes ago,” Kendara said wryly.  “She’s not fond of the teleportation circles.”

            “Neither were you,” Mishara pointed out.  “How much longer did the Healers say before it’s your time?”

            “Ten more sennights*,” Kendara told her.  “And that’s not too soon for me.”

            “Nor for Tardrik either, I’ll wager,” Mishara said.

            Kendara laughed.  “Oh mother, you should see him when I ask for something unusual to eat.  At least he’s finally started magicking them up instead of sending the servants out to find them.”

            “We’d best get going, ne salan**,” Ethander interrupted.  “You know how touchy the Healers get if we’re late.”

            “Don’t worry mother,” Kendara added.  “I’ll keep an eye on Jedary while you’re gone.”

            “I know you will,” Mishara sighed.  She held out one thin, pale hand to her husband.  Ethander helped her to her feet.  He supported her as they headed for one of the household teleportation circles.

            As soon as they were gone, Kendara checked on her youngest sister.  Jedary was asleep in the nursery, her hands clutched tightly around a small stuffed animal.  Kendara returned to the main area.  Idly she straightened the cushions in her mother’s chair.  “So, you’ve seen how sick she is now,” a male voice commented.

            “Hello Haydrian,” Kendra said by way of greeting.  She turned and smiled at her older brother.  “She’s very ill, I’ll grant you that.  But she’s also an elf.  You know we rarely ever die from illnesses.  Our Healers are the best in the world and can cure just about anything.”

            “Even Healers aren’t infallible, Dari,” Haydrian cautioned.  “Mother’s illness just doesn’t look right to me.  It might be something that our Healers aren’t familiar with.”

            Kendara bit her lip.  Haydrian was studying to be a Healer.  If anyone knew what ailed their mother, surely he would.  “Dari?  Rian?  Where’s mama?”  Jedary pattered over to her sister.  She hugged her tightly.

            “She went to see the Healers, Jeda,” Kendara said.  “She and father will be back soon.  Why don’t we find some breakfast?  Then we’ll go outside and play until they return.”  Kendara’s unborn daughter chose that moment to kick.  Jedary giggled as she stepped back.

            “I don’t think she likes me,” Jedary said as she mock pouted.

            “She just doesn’t like getting squashed,” Kendara said laughing.  “Haydrian, are you joining us this morning?”

            “I just stopped by to see if they’d gone to the Healers yet,” Haydrian said, shaking his head.  “I’d better hurry or Master Sethdris will have my hide for being late.  I’ll see you ladies later.”  He stepped back into the circle and vanished.

            Kendara kept her mind occupied by creating games for her sister.  She and Jedary had a leisurely breakfast out on the terrace followed by a day spent playing in the garden.  Jedary’s tutors were not too pleased, but given the current situation, they agreed with Kendara when she told them that Jedary deserved a holiday from her studies.  Finally, late into the afternoon, Lord Ethander returned to the house without his wife.

            Kendara hurriedly summoned one of the nurses and told her to take Jedary back to the nursery.  She walked as swiftly as her awkward size would allow over to her father.  “Father?  What is it?  What’s wrong?  Why hasn’t mother returned with you?” she asked concernedly.

            Ethander dropped into his wife’s chair.  “She’s dying,” he said without preamble.  “The Healers called it cancer.  It’s normally a human disease, rare among the magic races and even rarer among the elves.  They’ve only seen two, maybe three other cases.  It’s beyond their power to heal.  She has between two and six sennights left.”

            Kendara was stunned.  “I thought the Healers could heal anything,” she protested.

            “They might have been able to heal it when it first crept into your mother’s body,” Ethander said heavily.  “But it went unnoticed and untreated for far too long.  None of your mother’s organs function properly anymore.  All they can do is make her comfortable until the end.”  He shook his head and placed a hand around his daughter’s waist.  “You’d better go home now Dari.  The Goddesses only know what I’m going to tell Jedary, and I’d better let Urythsia and Galideen know.”  Kendara nodded, fighting back her tears.  She stepped into the circle and willed herself back to her home.

            Tardrik caught her as she staggered through the barrier at the edge of the circle.  “Dari?  What’s wrong?”

            All Kendara could do was cry.  She sobbed brokenly into her husband’s shoulder.  Tardrik eased her down onto the couch near the circle and held her close.  He allowed her to vent her grief and rage.  He murmured soothing things into her ear from time to time until Kendara finally controlled herself enough to speak clearly.  She told him of Mishara’s fatal illness and the pronouncement of the Healers.  Tardrik shared her pain as he pulled her closer.  He loved his mother-in-law almost as much as he loved his own mother, and to lose her in such an obviously painful way was difficult to bear.

            Kendara’s greatest fear, and the one she couldn’t voice, was for her father.  Ethander and Mishara had been married for more than 500 years, a long time even for the elves.  She was terribly afraid that Ethander would pine away and follow his wife in death.  Kendara knew that one day her parents would both die, but she had never been able to imagine such a time.  Like all children, she wanted to believe her parents were immortal and would last forever.  Kendara winced as her daughter reacted violently to her mother’s distress.  “I’m going to go lay down for a bit,” she told her husband.

            “I’ll wake you if I hear anything from your father,” Tardrik promised.  Kendara kissed him gently and drifted off to their room.

            Three days passed before Kendara got up enough courage to go to the Healers’ enclave.  A quiet young Healer showed her to her mother’s room.  Mishara was dozing on a narrow bed.  “She always dozes off after we give her some of the herbs for her pain,” the Healer explained in a whisper.  “She’ll wake up in a few minutes.”  Kendara nodded and the Healer took herself off to another patient.  Kendara slipped quietly over to the side of the bed.

            Mishara’s normally fair skin hung from her body.  There was a faint yellowish cast to it and dark circles shadowed her eyes.  Her lips were cracked and bleeding and her breath came in short little rasps.  Kendara found it difficult not to start crying immediately.

            Mishara dazedly opened her eyes.  “I thought I heard someone come in,” Mishara said huskily.  She winced as she tried to shift around to see her daughter.  Kendara dropped into the chair to spare her mother from the pain.

            “Hello mother,” Kendara began hesitantly.

            “How’s our little bird?” Mishara asked as she always did, her eyes straying to Kendara’s expanding middle.

            “She’s been restless lately,” Kendara admitted.

            “Tell me, did you and Tardrik ever decide on a name for her?” Mishara asked.  “I remember you saying that the debate was still raging.”

            “Her name’s Mishandi,” Kendara said.  “For our little bird.”

            Mishara smiled slightly.  “A lovely name,” she rasped.  “Your father should be back soon.  He doesn’t like leaving me for very long.”

            “I don’t blame him,” Kendara replied.  “He loves you very deeply, mother.”

            “And I love him,” Mishara said softly.  “So, tell me what I’ve missed over the last few days.”

            Kendara began telling her mother about the inconsequential things going on in her life.  She moved on into talking about the baby and her hopes for the future.  She even mentioned some of her fears, which made her mother smile.  A few hours later, Ethander returned to the enclave.  Kendara rose to her feet.  She looked down at the frail wreck that had once been her lively and vibrant mother.  “I love you mama,” she said, the words nearly sticking in her throat because of her grief.

            “I love you too Dari,” Mishara answered.  Kendara bent over and gave her mother a sweet and loving kiss.  As she left the room, Kendara lifted her head high so as not to give any sign of weakness to those out in the corridor.  As she made her way to the teleportation circle, she bid farewell to her belief in the immortality of her people.  All that mattered now was her mother, and the time they had left together.

*sennight – “seven night”, a.k.a. one week

**ne salan – my beloved