Rune and Ruin

Seeds of the Gods - 27 - Garden Bounty

395 B.C.E. - Cliffs of the Tyrrhenian Sea, City of Caere, Coast of the Tasurian Peninsula, Deep Winter, Month of December

In Her Memory

Thania's hand drifted down to rest on her heavy, protruding stomach, her other on her lower back, helping to support the weight of her middle. Her baby kicked, the thump bringing a sorrowful smile to her face as she stared out at the vast blue sea.

She had never contemplated throwing herself into its depths, her unborn child keeping her here, in the land of the living, for as long as the gods allowed. Others had not been able to resist the Tyrehhenian's seductive blue waters, the promise of sweet oblivion the sea offered, but even the thought of the Warlord's vengeance was not enough to send Thania to commit herself to death.

Her smile grew rueful as her child thumped her hand again.

"Thinking of him, too, my sweet baby?" she whispered to her bump. The child was quiet.

He will come

Thania heaved a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the ocean. She knew the gods were correct. The Warlord was creeping ever closer to Caere, attacking the city of Tarquinni to the north, encircling her new home like a snake wrapping her people in its deadly coils.

To her everlasting shame, she couldn't be certain if she was terrified or if this lump in her throat was from missing him.

"Thania?" The Hatrencu approached, a tight smile on her face, lines of worry creasing the edges of her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Thania straightened her back, using her hands to push up the heavy weight of her child, and once again, she missed a set of large hands to help her hold the baby high. "I'm well," she replied belatedly and in a weaker voice than she meant to use.

The Hatrencu nodded and, except for the quick glance at Thania's belly, hid her emotions fairly well. "How is the baby?"

"Kicking," came the prompt response. There were babies, half Tasuri mostly, who stopped moving toward the end. Sometimes, the child lived, and other times, they died, slowly poisoning their mothers to death. It was a good sign that Thania's baby was so active.

"Maybe a strong boy," the Hatrencu said, placing her hand over the swell of Thania's stomach.

Her daughter was silent. Thania knew it was a girl, because the gods had always referred to the baby as 'she' and 'her,' and sometimes outright said 'daughter.' Thania said nothing about this, of course. How to explain why she was so certain of her baby?

"Maybe," Thania hedged.

"And the cabin?" Nahma asked, looking over the little cottage at the top of the hill with a critical eye. Thania had moved to the cottage a week ago. Placed well away from the Temple Mount, where Thania had lived with the other priests and priestesses, the cottage was for bearing mothers. It was for peace and quiet, but Thania thought it was more likely because so many babies died, and no one wanted to hear the mother's grief.

Grief is not terrible

She didn't want to grieve her child. She wanted to celebrate a successful birth. "Good," Thania responded to the Hatrencu quickly, blocking out the gods. The cottage was well-stocked and warm enough. Every day, her friends came to check on her, and Vivina, her dearest friend in Caere, stayed with her to ensure Thania had everything she needed.

"I think it will be soon," Nahma murmured, removing her hand from Thania's belly. As soon as she did, Thania's daughter thumped her hard.

"Oof," Thania grunted, then sighed as she held up her belly with one hand and massaged her daughter's foot with the other. Her gaze strayed back to the sea. For a month, when she first arrived in Caere, she wondered if she should keep going: Sail away to those mysterious lands where wild animals roamed and even the Tasuri didn't venture.