Cloak and Spider: A Shadowdance Novella by David Dalglish

Marion. This baby had stolen away her future, stolen away the very breath from her lungs and left her pouring out lifeblood upon a mattress. Much as Thren tried to deny it, much as he tried to remind himself that he held one of the few pieces of Marion left in the world, he felt only rage. Cold rage, something unlike what he felt when a man betrayed him, or a lord or member of the Trifect dared insult him. There was so little emotion to it, so little passion. It was angered death in him, an all-consuming thought.
    “You took her from me,” Thren whispered. “Why? What cruel joke in this world decided she was to die now? She’ll never hold you, never feed you. Your older brother will grow, mature, take a wife of his own, and never again behold the face of his mother.”
    He was crying again, though he’d never realized he’d started. He noticed only when the tears fell upon Aaron’s face. The baby’s crying had begun to subside, still constant but not as strong. For a brief moment Thren thought the baby might die there, rendering Marion’s sacrifice worthless…and the only thing he felt was satisfaction. Escape. Already the burden of raising Randith would be on his shoulders. Did he want this creature to be his as well?
    All it’d take was a shift of the towel wrapped about him. So easy it’d be to block the air from his lungs. So easy to bury him along with his mother, to say goodbye to the future he should have had.
    Thren’s fingers grabbed the top of the towel. Thren’s eyes widened, and he felt the cold rage dwindling down into emptiness, total emptiness. He no longer cared. Not about himself, not about Marion, not about Aaron. Was it shock? He didn’t know. Did it matter? Higher he pulled the towel, then shifted his fingers, pressing it against Aaron’s mouth. The baby’s crying immediately stopped. As he held on tight, Aaron’s legs kicked harder, his arms flailing out to the sides.
    The door to the other room opened, and out stepped Grayson. Thren pulled back the towel, shifted his arms to hide what he’d done.
    “What?” asked Thren as Aaron resumed his crying.
    “Marion wants to see her baby,” Grayson said, and despite his tears, a smile spread wide across his face. “Now get your ass in here.”
    It was as if the stone about his heart shattered. Thren felt he could breathe again, felt as if the room weren’t so dark. Slowly he walked inside, Aaron cradled in his arms. Marion smiled at him from the bed, still deathly pale, but she was herself again, her bloodshot eyes showing recognition for the first time in hours. Calan stood beside her, looking very much drained.
    “Praise Ashhur,” he said, putting his hands on his back and stretching until it popped.
    “Indeed,” said Thren, feet moving of their own accord. Once at Marion’s side he offered the baby to her, and she gently took him and placed his mouth to her breast.
    “It’s a boy,” she said, her voice raspy.
    “His name’s Aaron,” Thren said. “Randith should be happy. He’s always wanted a brother to play with.”
    “Aaron,” Marion cooed, then laid her head back on her pillow and closed her eyes. “I’m glad we picked that name. It suits him.”
    Thren didn’t quite see how it did, but he would not question her now. His hands free, he wiped the tears from his face and tried to recover his bearings. Glancing into the other room, he almost felt as if he’d stepped out of a different world, a darkness to which he wanted never to return.
    Grayson once more went to his sister’s side, and with him cradling her, Calan took the time to gently pull Thren aside.
    “Why did you think you must drag me here at sword’s edge?” the man asked.
    Thren started to answer, stopped. It seemed almost stupid now, but it was hard to explain the panic they’d all been in as Marion’s health failed through the night.
    “Because I feared you’d say no,” he said. “Given who I am. Who we are.”
    Calan put a hand on his