Ishel (The Stone Legacy Series, #1)

by Theresa Dalayne

The child in my womb developed quickly. It took only two seasons for it to grow until I could no longer see the tips of my toes when I stood upright.

  I ran my hands over the lump where the child’s foot pressed from inside.

  I did not know if it was a boy or a girl.

  Soon.

  As the days grew shorter and the winds cooler, I watched the mortals prepare their homes for the season of snow and ice. How diligent they worked. Their steadfast efforts amazed me. Their lives were so hard, yet they continued on as if the labor did not bother them in the least.

  I reached up and plucked a leaf that had turned orange and curled around the edges. I stroked the trunk of the tree to give it peace. “Do not mourn for the loss of your leaves. Soon you will sleep and grow new leaves in the spring.”

  I lifted my face toward the sky and closed my eyes. Warm sunlight caressed my cheeks.

  Life would continue on, and all would be well. I had to believe that for the future of my child. For the arrival of the Stone Guardian. Without her, surely all the work I had done to protect the mortals would be for not. The underworld would rise, and the enchanted blessed stone of the creator gods would fall into sinister hands. That was not an option.

  I pushed myself to walk over the hillside, grasping onto trees for support, one strenuous footstep at a time. My bare feet slipped in the mud and I fell forward. I shouted when I caught myself, and then sank to the ground.

  I panted and rolled onto my back. A bed of fallen leaves cushioned me while I stared up at the sky.

  It became so much more difficult to walk the mortal realm with the child heavy inside of me. Each step shot pain through my hips. My back throbbed nearly all the time, and without the heavens to retreat to for comfort, there was little I could do to ease my pain.

  Perhaps it was just the process of carrying a child. Mortals surely went through more difficult struggles. Many had even died in the process of childbirth. I had seen it myself. The devastation of their passing left their families heartbroken, to mourn for seasons upon seasons.

  Mortal bonds were truly admirable.

  I pushed my open palms against the cold, soggy ground and tried to stand.

  A sharp pain shot through my belly. I screamed and my legs gave out. I fell back to the forest floor.

  I held my swollen belly and drew in a deep breath. My lips trembled. “Ease, child. Do not fret. I will care for you, if you will only be still and allow me to stand.”

  The child wriggled and turned inside of me. I waited for it to still, then grasped onto the trunk of a nearby tree and leaned on it for support.

  With great effort, I managed to steady my feet underneath me. I clung to the tree and pushed myself up. Searing pain tore through my back, blurring my vision. I let out yet another moan. My legs trembled. I panted and rested my cheek against the cool bark of the tree. With my eyes closed, the only sounds were rustling of birds in the trees and my sharp breaths.

  “Ease, child,” I said in a few quick breaths.

  Just then, warm water trickled down my legs.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I managed to carry myself to a nearby field dotted with trees. I lowered my body to the cool, damp ground, tall grass surrounding me in every direction. Rays of sun reached out to me and soothed my aching muscles. It was all Kinich could do to comfort me as labor pains tightened my belly. Wave after wave came, growing closer every hour.

  I moaned when another contraction tore through me. I groped for handfuls of grass. When the pain passed, my fists relaxed and I was able to breathe again.

  Sweat collected on my brow and neck. The sun seemed to brighten for a moment before it dulled again—just enough for me to know Kinich was still with me in the only way he could be.

  I squinted up at the sky. “Some shade would be nice,” I said softly between shallow breaths. I smiled, remembering the way Kinich always found a way to brighten even the direst of situations with a sarcastic remark and a crooked grin.

  I sucked in a breath as another labor pain wound tight in my belly. The peak of this contraction was stronger than any before. My back arched and I grasped for something to hold on to.

  My fingers brushed against something soft and warm. I turned my head to see big yellow eyes staring down at me. Balam’s ears rotated with every sound of the jungle.

  Balam circled me once...twice...

  The third time, he lay beside me and pressed his back against my side. I wanted to roll over and drape my arm over his silky fur, but my muscles were tender and ached too badly.

  Balam’s purring calmed me.

  “You...” I took a moment to catch my breath. “You knew all along, didn’t you, old friend?”

  Balam chuffed in response.

  “I thought it was strange to see you so often over the last few months.” I rested my hand on his shoulder. Dark spots in his fur shown through the gaps of my fingers. “Thank you. I am grateful for your company. The pain of bearing this child is greater than I could have ever imagined.”

  A tear slipped down the side of my face.

  If I were in the heavens, I would not be experiencing such agony. Childbirth in my native realm was blissful. At least that is how my mother described it so many years ago.

  Being a middleworld deity had its disadvantages.

  But for the moment, the contractions had spaced and dulled in intensity. I was not sure if that was good or bad, but I was grateful for the break.

  With Balam lying beside me, I slowly closed my eyes and allowed myself to rest. There would be more labor to come, and I needed my strength to get through it.

  When I opened my eyes, Balam was in his human form. He sat against a nearby tree, fiddling with something in his hands.

  I sat up and examined him from a distance. “What do you have?”

  He paused, then held up a small doll woven from wheat grass.

  I ran my fingers through the grass around me. I hadn’t noticed upon lying down that we were in a wheat field.

  I smiled. “A little old to be playing with dolls, aren’t you, Balam?”

  He gestured to my belly.

  My lips parted. “Oh...” I pushed up on my forearms. “You made it for the baby?”

  He nodded, and then continued to weave the rest of the doll’s skirt.

  “That’s very kind of you.” I managed to prop myself against a tree. “I wish I knew if the child were a boy or a girl.”

  I grabbed some wheat grass and tied several strands into a knot—the beginning of my own grass doll. Working on it would at least give me something to do, and hopefully keep my mind off of my discomfort. “You know...” I plucked more grass and formed a mortal shape with them. “I have not thought of names for the child. Would you like to help me pick? I need one for a boy and a girl.”

  Balam did not respond. He simply wove more grass around the doll.

  My fingers worked nimbly while I thought of possibilities. “I suppose I could name a boy after his father. I’m sure Kinich would like that.”

  The sun shined brightly for a moment.

  I smiled. “Kinich likes it. What do you think, Balam?” Before he could respond, a contraction gathered and coiled in my belly. I clenched my eyes shut and drew in a deep breath. The pain gathered and peaked, then slowly decreased and eventually vanished.

  I opened my eyes. My throat tightened and I smacked my lips. “Balam.” I reached out. His hand caught mine, his bronze skin such a contrast beside my fairness. I held onto him. “I am rather thirsty. Would you bring me some water?”

  I did not want to let go of Balam’s hand, but knew it was necessary. When I did, he slipped away. A moment later he returned with a large leaf. The edges were curled with water cupped inside.

  I sat up as much as I could bear. Balam brought the leaf to my lips and I sipped down the sweet, cool water. When I drank my full, he pulled it away and discarded the leaf onto the ground. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Thank you.”

  This time he settled bes
ide me and continued to work on the grass doll.

  “What name do you like for a girl?”

  He paused for a moment as if in thought, but didn’t speak a word.

  “How about Abijah?”

  Balam crinkled his nose.

  “No?” I returned to the task of my grass doll. “Dagmar?”

  Balam looked up at me with wide eyes, then shook his head.

  I laughed. “Okay. Not Dagmar.” Another pain grew in my belly. This time it was as a vice around my back. I moaned and grasped onto Balam. He held me as I suffered through yet another labor pain.

  I sucked in a sharp breath and slipped my hand between my legs. When I pulled it back, blood coated my fingers. I swallowed. “I need to lie down. Please help me.”

  Balam cradled me and lowered me to the ground. I ground my teeth.

  Another wave of pain tore through me. I could not hold in the scream.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The morning sun broke through yet another dark and cold middleworld night. But this morning was different than any other.

  On this morning, there was new life in the world.

  I stared down at a wriggling baby, swaddled in my arms. Balam had gotten her a blanket from the mortal village. It was made out of what the humans called wool, and it did a wonderful job at keeping my new baby girl warm and content.

  Kinich’s rays of sun cast upon us and soothed my shivering. Though Balam had done also everything he could to keep me warm, I felt frozen to the core.

  This was one aspect of being a middleworld deity that did not appeal to me. I was subject to the mortals’ illnesses and nearly as vulnerable to their elements. And while heaven deities and underworld rulers were immortal, middleworld rulers were not.

  I learned that the hard way when Mother passed.

  I tilted my head toward the sky and smiled at Kinich. “Do you see your daughter?” I held the child out a bit. Her hair was blonde, like his. She puckered her tiny pink lips and opened her eyes.

  A ray of light focused and intensified on her chest where her heart beat so very quietly.

  “I know you love her,” I said. “And she will love you, too. I swear it.”

  A tremor ran down my arm, and I pulled my daughter back to the safety of my chest.

  Balam rested his hand on my shoulder. His mouth turned down into a frown.

  “I am all right.” I swallowed against a dry throat.

  Balam pressed his hand over my forehead. His frown intensified.

  I forced a smile. “I don’t suppose you would mind changing into your other form to keep me warm?”

  Balam moved back, and within a moment he had morphed into a jaguar.

  The large cat lay over my lap and rested his head near my daughter.

  Her tiny fingers curled around Balam’s ear. His ear twitched.

  I could not hold back the tears welling in my eyes.

  Without Balam’s help, I fear I never would have labored my daughter with success. He was a great support, but now I needed him to do something.

  Something I could never repay.

  “Balam.” My voice had become scratchy and hoarse. “I must ask you for a favor.”

  He lifted his head and waited for me to continue.

  I carefully fixed the fabric of the blanket around my daughter’s face to protect her from the breeze. “I need for you to care for my daughter. She is only an infant, and will depend on someone to feed her and keep her safe.”

  The cat’s gaze intensified.

  “I have named her.” I placed a kiss on my daughter’s forehead. “She is Cualli—daughter of Kinich and Ishel, the rulers of sun and flowers. Her lineage is strong, but I do not wish for her to return to the heavens. There she will have no freedom to live her life. I want more for her than what I have had.”

  I extended Cualli, swaddled in a tight bundle. “You must promise me you will care for her and protect her.”

  Balam stood on his four paws and flickered his tail. He chuffed and threw his head to the side in protest.

  “In this realm my body grows weak. I can feel the life draining from me with every passing hour. Trust me when I say this is not my choice.” I gazed down at Cualli. Her cheeks were blushed pink, the color of newly budded roses. “I would never want to...” Tears streaked down my cheek. “I do not want to leave her so early. But she has a greater part to play in the middleworld. I will not be here to aid the Stone Guardian in protecting the stone. Cualli must do this, with the help of you, her guardian.” I gazed into her tiny face. “You are very strong, my baby girl. A great life lies ahead of you. Greater than mine, I pray.”

  I would not be forced to leave her if my father had granted my one and only wish. How unfair life was. My and Kinich’s love was held in secret until the time he was taken from me. And now that I had Cualli, I would depart from her life without explanation.

  She was too young to understand.

  I reached down and picked up the grass doll Balam had woven, then tucked it in Cualli’s blanket. “There, darling. Cualli Now you have something to play.”

  Another tear slipped down my cheek.

  She stirred, and then began to cry.

  “Shhhh.” I rocked her close to me and held her in my arms. “Do not cry, my love. For you will never know the woe in a mother’s heart when she sees her daughter weep.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was not long after I gave my beloved Cualli to her new protector that my body failed me and my soul slipped away to the heavens.

  It had taken mere moments to arrive to the desolate land. What was left of the rolling hills was now mere ash, and where trees once stood—strong and proud—now only petrified statues remained. But the bitter heartbreak I once harbored was no longer a weight chained to me. No longer did I feel overwhelmed with grief and sorrow.

  I was free.

  My soul, now in a new form, floated through the heavens as free as the breeze I once envied.

  I passed over my father, who gave no indication he knew I was there. He sat still, staring ahead as if he were in waiting. His kingdom had shriveled to nearly nothing, as had he. I reached out and brushed my fingers down his arm. He blinked and his eyes came back to life.

  How I missed my father. How I wished he could hold me, and we could laugh together as we always had.

  The warmth of the sun intensified.

  I looked up to see Kinich’s face, smiling down at me from his throne on the sun.

  I reached out to him. “Why can I not reach you, my love?”

  “Soon.” His voice was a quiet whisper. How my heart ached to touch him again. Kinich gestured to the heavens. “Give them comfort, Ishel. Give them peace.”

  I turned back to see my father gazing through me with tears in his eyes. In that moment I knew he was aware of my presence...

  I was no longer a middleworld god, but one of the higher heavens to mingle with the breeze. He could feel me, as I could feel him, and all of the warmth and love he showered me with over the years rushed through me like a great wave.

  Below me sprouted a bud of green, and then another. New grass rose from the ashes and broke through the layer of death. Like a drop of ink in water, new life spread. It climbed every mountain and reached every treetop until all of the heavens were lush and full of vitality as it once was.

  My soul wept with joy. My father dropped to his knees, his lips trembling and his shoulders hunched. “Ishel...”

  Though he could not see me, he knew the tender of flowers had returned to the heavens.

  Soon the sky was streaked with purple and pink. I wove through the skies in search of Kinich. When I found the sun it was blood orange and nearly dipped below the horizon.

  I reached out to my love.

  Kinich extended his hand.

  Our fingers brushed together as he rode the throne in which he reigned. He grabbed hold of me and pulled me close. I joined him on the surface of the sun, blazing with fire, and not a hint of pain.

  He
ran his fingers through my hair. How I had yearned for his touch all of this time. How I had dreamed of his kiss.

  “I love you, Ishel. Fearlessly and without limitations.”

  I swallowed, unable to speak. He searched my eyes, then crushed me against his chest and kissed as if it were our first kiss.

  Flames rose around us, and the sky dimmed to a deep blue, like the depths of the ocean on a cold winter day.

  But our story was not over. Not while Cualli roamed the earth. She would keep the middleworld alive, and as long as she was well, there would be hope.

  Hope for the humans.

  Hope for the Stone Guardian.

  A tender of flowers, and a future for the mortal realm.

  ~*~

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  Meanwhile, enjoy a excerpt from Stone Guardian, book one of The Stone Legacy Series.

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  EXCERPT FROM STONE GUARDIAN

  “Let’s get the formalities over with before we begin.” Dean Nelson shifted through the paperwork scattered across the table. “Patient identification number A692. Age, seventeen. Mother, unknown. Father, unknown. No living relatives.” He rubbed his bearded chin. “Hmm, that’s unfortunate. Name, Zzz...” He flipped back through the case file.

  Zanya watched everything from her special spot—center stage in the nearly vacant evaluation room, in a single wooden chair, as he butchered her name, yet again. She should have been used to it, considering every dean who had come and gone did exactly the same thing. “Zan-yuh,” she said, “with a short a.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “Right. Well, now that we’ve been introduced, let’s continue. Nice to meet you, Zanya. I’m Dean Nelson.” He smiled, though the deepening creases in his forehead made it seem painful. “How are you feeling today?”

  She glanced at him between layers of chestnut brown hair draped along her high-set cheekbones. She squinted and blinked under the burning lights, then turned her gaze to the floor. “I’m okay.”