A Grant of Arms

Gwendolyn stared back at her, shocked that she knew, especially as her stomach still looked flat. She no longer had the strength to keep it a secret, though, and she nodded yes.

Alistair nodded back knowingly.

“How did you know?” Gwen asked.

But Alistair merely closed her eyes and breathed deep, keeping her palm on Gwen’s stomach. Gwen was comforted by the feeling, and felt a healing warmth spread through her.

“A very powerful child,” Alistair said, her eyes still closed. “He’s scared. But not sick. He will be fine. I am taking away his fears now.”

Gwendolyn felt waves of light and heat rushing through her. Soon, she felt entirely restored.

Gwen was overwhelmed with gratitude and love for Alistair; she felt inexplicably close to her.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Gwendolyn said as she stood up, feeling almost normal again, as Alistair removed her hand.

Alistair lowered her head humbly.

“There is nothing to thank me for,” she answered. “It is what I do.”

“You did not tell me you were pregnant, my lady,” Aberthol said sternly. “If I knew, I would have never advised this trip.”

“My lady, I had no idea,” Steffen said.

Gwendolyn shrugged, superstitious, not wanting all this attention on her baby.

“And who is the father?” Aberthol asked.

Gwen felt a deep sense of ambivalence as she said the word:

“Thorgrin.”

Gwen felt torn. She felt waves of guilt for what she had done to Thor, for how they had said goodbye; she also felt mixed feelings about the child’s lineage. She pictured Andronicus’ face and shuddered.

Aberthol nodded.

“A most excellent lineage,” he said. “You carry a warrior inside you.”

“My lady, I would give my life to protect your child,” Steffen said.

Krohn walked up, leaned his head into her stomach, and licked it several times, whining.

Gwen was overwhelmed by their kindness and felt supported.

Suddenly, Krohn turned and surprised them all by snarling viciously. He took several steps forward into the blinding snow, his hairs on-end. He peered into the snow, ignoring them.

Gwen and the others looked at each other, puzzled. Gwen peered into the snow but could see nothing. She had never heard Krohn snarl like that.

“What is it, Krohn?” she asked, nervous.

Krohn continued to snarl, inching forward, and Gwen, nervous, lowered her hand to the dagger at her waist as the others laid their hands on their weapons, too.

They waited and watched.

Finally, out of the blinding snow there emerged a dozen creatures. They were terrifying, entirely white, with huge yellow eyes and four long, yellow fangs, larger than wolves. They were bigger than Krohn, and each had two heads with long fangs, descending nearly a foot. They emitted a low, constant, vicious noise as they approached the group, spread out in a wide semi-circle.

“Lorks,” Aberthol said with fear, stepping back.

Gwendolyn heard the distinctive ring of metal as Steffen drew his sword. Aberthol clutched his staff out before him with both hands, while Alistair just stood there, staring, intense. Gwendolyn clutched her dagger and held it tight, prepared to lay down her life to defend her baby.

Krohn wasted no time: with a snarl, he charged forward and initiated the attack. He leapt into the air and sank his fangs into the throat of a lork, and even though it was bigger, Krohn was determined and wrestled it down to the ground in a snarling match. The sounds were vicious as they rolled and rolled. Soon the snow stained red, and Gwen was relieved to see it was with the blood of the lork. Krohn pinned it down, victorious.

The other lorks jumped into action. Two of them pounced on Krohn, while the others charged right for Gwendolyn and the others.

Steffen ran forward, swinging his sword down on a lork as it charged for Gwendolyn, managing to chop off one of its two heads. But that left him exposed, and the other lork pounced on him and sank its long fangs into Steffen’s arm. Steffen screamed out, his blood squirting everywhere, as the creature pinned him down to the ground.