The Lotus Ascension Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 Adonis Devereux

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-242-5

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Marie Medina

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To JMJ

  THE LOTUS ASCENSION

  The Lotus Trilogy, 3

  Adonis Devereux

  Copyright © 2013

  Prologue

  The only place Konas could look was out the window. Ajalira was screaming behind him, and he could feel the grinding of her teeth. Her anguish filled the room; her sorrow bled into every corner. Night fast approached, and though Konas usually enjoyed twilight and the quick winking of the unveiled stars, he looked upon the darkening world in disquiet. Ausir were not used to this, and he wished he were anywhere else.

  “How long?” Kamen asked.

  The midwife doubled her grip on Ajalira's sweaty forearm and shook her head. “Any time now. Hard to say.”

  “It's too soon.”

  Konas glanced back just long enough to catch Kamen's wild, worried look.

  “Don't you worry about that, Lord Itenu.” The midwife tied her grey dreadlocks back in a linen kerchief. Konas imagined her a warrior slipping on her hauberk. This old woman was preparing for battle. She looked over at one of the younger midwives standing ready. “Bring the birthing chair.”

  A groan slipped through Konas's drawn lips, and he leaned forward, bracing his weight on his hands as they clutched the stony seal of the portal. He had tried to avoid this, but Kamen had insisted. It was the Sunjaa way. A child was going to be born into the highest noble family of the Sunjaa, and he needed witnesses. Besides, they were a very open people, something Konas was still not quite used to, though he took full advantage of it in his own way. Back home in the Silbrios, women would never walk around in translucent linen robes, practically exposing themselves. Back home, he would never have been invited to the birth of any child save his own.

  The sun set, and Ajalira's screams welcomed the night. Another day's heat would dissipate into the coldness of the purple sky.

  A slave scurried past, and Konas collared him. “Wine.” He pitied Ajalira her suffering, but there was nothing he could do about it, and judging by the helpless, panicked look on Kamen's face, there was little the husband could do, either.

  The slave bowed and scampered away.

  If the baby was a boy, the Itenu house would have its heir. Arinport would rejoice with Kamen. If Ajalira bore a daughter, then Konas would have to write to his brother at once. He would have to tell the Ausir King that his future bride had been born. He knew Kamen was hoping for a boy.

  The slave returned and thrust a cup of beer into his hands. Konas had asked for wine. He shrugged and lifted the beverage to his lips. Sunjaa loved their beer, and they brewed the best he had ever tasted.

  An elaborate wrestling match unfolded before Konas's eyes. A young midwife brought the U-shaped birthing chair and placed its four legs into small corresponding grooves in the floor. She gave it a shake, and it did not move. With a convinced nod, she rose and beckoned to the elder midwife. Kamen, holding one of Ajalira's arms, and the head midwife, holding the other, dragged the laboring mother toward the chair, but Ajalira cried out and nearly collapsed.

  “What's wrong? What's wrong?” Kamen nearly lost his grip on his wife's sweaty skin. “We must let her rest.”

  The old midwife's eyes flashed. “We must get her to that chair.” She pointed.

  “It's too soon, isn't it?”

  “Soon or not, this baby's coming.” She snapped her fingers at yet another young midwife, and that one ran up and took Ajalira by the ankles, and though the proud Tamari kicked, the servant did not relax her grasp. The three of them hauled Ajalira to her chair. “Now, dear,” the old woman continued, “sit, but do not lean forward.”

  Ajalira's face turned crimson and purple as she struggled with a breathless push.

  “Don't push yet. Sit!” The midwife firmly yet gently thrust Ajalira down. “Now, slowly, lean back.” She glanced up at Kamen. “You, go around and kneel behind her. Let her rest against your chest.”

  Kamen did as instructed, and Ajalira reached up over her shoulder to take his hand. With his other hand, he stroked her golden horns and whispered something in her ear. Konas, though his hearing was keen as any Ausir's, did not hear what was said either because Ajalira was groaning or because he did not really wish to know. It was enough that he was present for something he considered a very private affair.

  Ajalira breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. A respite. Konas drained his cup. A midwife wiped Ajalira's forehead and untangled her hair from her horns. A slave gave Kamen a drink of water. The old midwife came around and looked between Ajalira's spread legs. Ajalira had her back to Konas, so the Ausir could only imagine what was going on down there.

  Kamen was right. The baby was not expected for another month. Perhaps it was nothing more than the unpredictability of mating human and Ausir. Who could tell what was going to happen or what the baby was going to look like? How many half-Ausir were there in the world? No more than a handful—and Konas had never seen a half-blood. He imagined any would be hideous. Humans and Ausir were so incongruous, their features so dissimilar that he surmised they would not blend well. Any offspring from such an unequal yoking would be, at best, awkward children.

  Ajalira's breathing quickened, and clean exhales gave way to grunts, and grunts morphed into wails. Kamen whispered to her again, and this time Konas caught the words.

  “Not you without me, nor I without you.”

  Strange words to say to a woman in the agonies of childbirth.

  The elder midwife piled up soft linens on the floor between Ajalira's spread legs. Something poured and dripped.

  “Her water's broken.” The midwife swept away the damp linens and replaced them with fresh ones. “We'll see your little darling very soon now, dear.”

  Her calm smile was completely unsuited to the occasion—as Konas saw it—but her words seemed to ease Ajalira for just a moment. Ajalira's shoulders relaxed, and she craned her neck to see Kamen.

  “My love, my life.”

  Kamen kissed her nose, and the pains came again. Ajalira sat forward and groaned. Long groans interrupted quick pants, and this process repeated three times until there were no pants, only groans—and then just one long groan into which Ajalira clearly poured every last drop of her strength.

  Konas had never witnessed childbirth before. He had no idea a woman could be so strong, so durable, so determined, for, to him, the act seemed more a test of will than a test of pain. He mentally saluted Ajalira for her courage, and for the first time that evening, he was not sorry he was there. To say he was growing comfortable would be a stretch, but he began to find the whole experience fascinating.

  “Push, push, push,” the old midwife said firmly over Ajalira's growling scream. Her eyes lit up, and her mouth opened in pleasant expectation. Without looking at the young midwife at her elbow, she instructed her subordinate to go ring the bell. The young one did so with alacrity.

  The door opened, and a priestess of Elendrie and a priestess of Chiel walked into the room. The former was clad like a temple harlot,
in a shimmering, translucent shift. She wore no undergarments, and Konas was sure he had seen her at one of his orgies. She carried a sheaf of wheat in her left hand, and upon both wrists she wore bracelets of braided straw. Her painted face was beautiful and exotic, her cheeks and forehead gold, her eyes black. The Chiel priestess could not have been more different. She wore a long, blue gown the color of the summer sky, belted with a white sash. Around her neck hung a small pouch. She, too, was beautiful, but her looks did not invoke desire in Konas. The latter walked in the former's perfumed wake, but Konas could still detect the Chiel priestess's scent of healing herbs.

  Fertility and Life had come. They stood before the anguished mother and chanted their comfortless words.

  “Elendrie, Earth Mother, Knitter in Wombs, be praised. Let the fruit of her handiwork come forth.” The painted priestess crushed the head of wheat in her fingers and scattered it across the floor.

  The Chiel priestess sprinkled petals of violets from the hem of her robe. “The Lady of Light welcomes this child into Gilalion. Let this house be blessed. Let these—”

  Her breath caught, and her spell was disrupted. Ajalira screamed one last time, and with her final, exhausted cry, she fell back into her husband's arms. The old midwife was working fast, though she was hidden by Ajalira's body so Konas could not see. He heard a couple light smacks and then a lusty cry. The baby was born.

  Still the priestess of Chiel stared. The midwife stared at the baby in her hands. The prostitute-priestess stood dumb. Kamen leaned forward.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Konas grew curious and drew near, too.

  “A god cloaked in flesh,” the painted priestess whispered.

  “What beauty is born into this world this night!” The Chiel priestess spoke distractedly, her chant completely forgot.

  The midwife presented the baby like a precious offering, but Ajalira could not take it. She lay dazed, and the old woman's indulgent smile vanished. With a grim look, she passed the baby off to a younger midwife. What charm had worked in her was forgot. She had work to do.

  “What's wrong?” Kamen asked.

  “Nothing.” The old midwife knelt between Ajalira's legs. “I must deliver the after-birth.”

  “Is it a boy or girl?” Konas asked.

  “A boy.” The young midwife turned the baby toward him.

  Konas was struck by the child's beauty, not at all hideous as he had feared. Indeed, the boy's features were lovely and perfect, the very flower of both races, though Konas did not fawn over the child the way all the women were. The baby's little horns stood like buds on his head. Konas could not help but smile. There would be no writing to his brother tonight, and he would have to wait in Arinport until Ajalira bore a daughter.

  “What's wrong, woman?” Kamen's demand pulled Konas back to the bloody scene not three paces from him.

  The old woman did not look up. “The after-birth.” Her eyes narrowed, and she chewed the side of her tongue in concentration. She tugged at something. “It doesn't want to come out.”

  “What do you mean it doesn't want to come out? Of course it does.”

  The midwife shot Kamen a withering stare. “Of course it does, you say? You who know so much about delivery? Look, sometimes it gets stuck and needs a bit of coaxing to let go. Talk to her. Let her know you're here.”

  Kamen snuggled down next to Ajalira's shoulder. “It'll be all right, my love. All will be well. Soon you will see your son. He's so beautiful.”

  Ajalira moaned and gritted her teeth.

  The old midwife stepped away from her patient for a moment and took one of the young women by the elbow. “Go, fetch me huskwort and raspberry leaf.”

  The maid sped off.

  “What do you need that for?” Konas asked. His natural curiosity had gotten the better of him.

  “To stop the bleeding. Sometimes the after-birth tears.”

  Konas cringed and closed his eyes against the thought.

  “But it's got to come out.” The old midwife returned to Ajalira. “Now, now dear. I need you to relax. Brace yourself.”

  Konas could not watch. He imagined blood pouring out. He imagined sick sounds of tearing flesh.

  “Not you without me, nor I without you.” Kamen stroked Ajalira's sweat-matted hair. “You have to fight like a Tamari. Don't you dare leave me! Remember our oath? If you go, I follow. If I go, you follow.” Kamen held up his scarred palm, and Ajalira placed her scarred palm flat against his. Her love for Kamen shone in her eyes, but that light soon darkened, and her placid expression twisted into one of agony.

  “Something's stuck.” Ajalira's voice was weak, distant.

  “Yes, dear. Just relax.” The old woman tugged at the cord.

  “No, something's still in there.” She groaned again and drew in quick, short breaths. “I feel like I need to go—” Pain cut off her words.

  The old woman jumped up. “Elendrie's dirty ring, there's another baby in there!”

  The priestess of Elendrie gasped, but the midwife made no apology for her blasphemy.

  Konas started in shock and moved back to stand in his original position behind Ajalira.

  “Another one?” Kamen asked.

  “Twins,” the midwife said, “who shared the same sac. That's why her water only broke once, and that's why she's delivering early.”

  “Will it be all right?”

  “Not if you keep talking and don't let me work.”

  The blue-robed priestess smiled. “Chiel blesses this house with an abundance of life.”

  Konas stood amazed. Ausir were naturally infertile, and few ever bore children among his kind. Even rarer were the families that had more than one child. But twins? They were unheard of. No Ausir had ever had twins. Then Konas remembered Ajalira's lineage. Her great-great-grandfather was human. Could that, added to a mating with a human, produce twins?

  Ajalira cried out and bore down, and all through the labor, the boy child screamed. No amount of coddling by the young midwife could soothe him. Every limb was taut, and he held his arms out with little, balled-up fists. Mother and child were cacophonous, and then a third cry joined the chorus. Ajalira passed out, and Kamen attended to her while the old midwife cleaned up the second baby. She cut the cord and stood with the baby, wrapping it in linens like the other. Her old face was beguiled, and an entrancement seemed to enter her through her eyes.

  “And a goddess to join him.” The old woman cradled the bawling baby girl in her arms, though no cooing quieted her.

  The Queen of the Ausir was born. Konas had to see her, his future sister-in-law, future bride to his brother, the Ausir King. Konas stepped around, but when he saw the baby's face, he was dumbstruck. Her face seemed to glow with her beauty, and Konas had never seen anything more perfect. Now he understood the ladies' reactions. He wanted nothing more than to ease the baby's suffering, for truly she was distraught.

  The old midwife passed the baby girl to her now conscious mother, but the baby still cried.

  “Hold her against your chest,” the old woman said. “She's heard nothing but your heartbeat for months. The sound will soothe her.”

  Ajalira did so, but the girl did not cease her bawling.

  The old woman took the baby from Ajalira. “I must measure them.” She took the girl over to the table where the boy already lay crying, but as soon as she laid the girl next to her brother, they both stopped. Silence fell suddenly.

  “These children are not mine.” The priestess of Elendrie shredded the stalks of wheat in her nervous hands.

  The priestess of Chiel stared at the babies. “Nor mine. The Bright Lady cannot claim them.”

  Konas shouldered his way between the women. “What are you talking about?”

  “Their birth was not brought about by the Earthmother,” the temple harlot said. “Nor was it by her grace that their mother conceived them.”

  “The light of Chiel does not shine in their eyes,” the blue-robed woman said. “Their life
is not her gift.”

  Konas shook his head and stepped back, but he kept his gaze fixed on the beautiful children, especially the little girl. Nothing made sense to him, and he was happy to leave it to the mystics.

  “They're not crying anymore,” Kamen said, clearly oblivious to the concern of the priestesses.

  Ajalira rubbed her belly. “They lived together for eight months. They're used to each other.”

  “You didn't leave me.” Kamen kissed her forehead. “I'm glad you decided to stay.”

  Ajalira's weak smile was full of love for Kamen. “Not you without me, nor I without you.”

  Was that a Tamari thing, or just something those two had come up with? Konas wondered at this vow, this idea that Kamen could not, would not live without Ajalira, and vice versa. He shook his head and walked over to where the babies lay, content and quiet. He knelt before the girl and touched her tiny foot.

  “My Queen. Behold your servant. And if you were not my Queen, still I would serve you for your beauty's sake.”

  Chuckling caught Konas's attention.

  “What will we name him?” Ajalira asked.

  “Soren. A fine Sunjaa name, one fit for the Itenu heir.”

  “And the girl?”

  Kamen lips rose in a wry smile. “Well, let's see.” He looked around the room. “I say we follow Ausir fashion of naming children for the first thing we see. You know, the way your parents named you.”

  Ajalira smiled.

  “Yes.” Kamen looked out the window. “I know. I know enough Ausir to know what 'star' means. Let's call her Sillara, for the stars are twinkling beautifully tonight.”

  Sillara? A name fraught with meaning. Sillara, a name that meant something to the Seranimesti.