Born in The Boneyard is a piece of fiction from 100 Effects of a Primquake, one of the supplements for Cities of Sundara.

Elisa’s pregnancy had been exceptionally difficult. She’d lost three children before they could be born already, and Iosef had told her that as long as she wished him to, he would keep trying. He had died of a flux during the winter, though, and the last remnant of him was quickening even now in her belly.

She would not lose this child.

She had done all the things the mid wife had recommended. She’d eaten black root, drunk half moon tea and been careful with her movements, but she was taking no risks. Which was why she had taken her old staff, and begun walking toward the place called the Giant’s Hand when she felt her time drawing near.

It had been more than a week of hard traveling to reach the standing stones, surrounded by the cairns of heroes and commoners alike. Wind blew through that place, so hard that it was impossible to keep any kind of fire alight. She arrived to that place late, so Elisa had to navigate by the light of the moon, and its reflections off the pale rocks all around her. Wolves had bayed in the distance, and vultures watched her with their beady eyes from atop bare-branched trees, but nothing had stood in her way. Nothing except time, of course.

The Giant’s Hand was in sight, at the top of a long, spiraling staircase that led round the hill it crested, when Elisa felt her water break. She made herself move slowly, mounting the steps one at a time, rather than running for the top of the hill in a blind panic. It was hard, and it got even harder when the constant aches she’d felt for weeks grew teeth and blossomed into real pain. By the time she reached the crest of the stairs, every breath she took was a dull agony, and she was teetering on her feet. So she crawled into the center of the ring of stones, shrugging off her pack, her muscles straining as she pushed herself into the birthing position. She took a deep, ragged breath, and started to push.

Time lost all meaning as her breaths bled into one another, and waves of pain crashed over her, each one closer than the last. Elisa’s fingers dug into the hard, rocky soil; the tufts of rough grass coarse against her palms as she balled her hands into fists. The sky above roiled, and black clouds gathered like bad dreams, blotting out the stars, and casting the hill in darkness. Heat lightning shot between the clouds, sparking the heavens and giving brief glimpses of the world before once more leaving Elisa swathed in gloom. The pressure inside her hurt so badly, but she couldn’t stop. She’d come too far, and lost too much, merely to give up now. Even though she could taste blood in her mouth from how hard she was gritting her teeth, she pushed harder, her eyes screwed up tightly.

Elisa didn’t see the cracks opening up in the earth around the hill. She didn’t see the green light bleeding between the clouds. She couldn’t even hear the roiling voices that filled the air over how loudly her heart thundered in her ears. The stones around her groaned, as if they could feel her pain as her back arched, and the cords stood out in her neck. She felt her baby coming, pushing out from her, and into the world. She gave one last push, and felt the life she carried for so long leave her.

The world spun, and blackness encroached on the edges of Elisa’s vision, but she fought it back. She panted, struggling for her pack, pulling it open with shaking fingers. She withdrew the soft cloths she’d packed, and forced herself to sit up. She lifted her child, wiping away the blood and afterbirth that had splattered them. She smiled as she cleaned him… she had a son. Just like she and Iosef had said they would. Her smile broke, and crumbled when she realized he wasn’t crying. Not a single noise had passed his lips. She cupped her hand over his mouth, and felt no stirring of air.

Elisa screamed, and held her baby tight. She cried out to the gods whose name she didn’t know not to take him away from her… not now. Not after everything. A cold wind buffeted her, and she held her son tightly against her, instinctively shielding him with her body. The earth settled, the lights in the sky faded and the wind died down. When it did, she heard her son cry in her ear.

Yelping in surprise, Elisa held her baby up, and stared at him. He was fussing, kicking his small legs and voicing his displeasure. His cries faded, first to burbles, and then to silence. He regarded his mother curiously, his wide, blue eyes staring up at her. Then he smiled, and reached for her with his small, pudgy hands.

Even as she cut his cord and finished cleaning him, Elisa knew there was something different about her son. Beneath her exhaustion and relief, beneath her mingled joy and longing to share this moment with her departed husband, she suddenly felt a premonition. She knew that chill in her son’s skin would never truly leave him, and that whatever quirk of fate had allowed her to keep him would spread challenges in the road before him. The Wyrd had seen fit to let her keep him, though, and for that she would be eternally grateful, no matter what burden she would have to help him carry.

The two of them spent the night, sitting high above the gathered ranks of the dead, sitting quietly beneath their stone blankets. Her son called out to the wind, as if speaking to the ghosts of those passed in his babbling, nonsense words. He laughed in delight, as if unseen spirits had responded to him. Elisa did not sleep until the moon began to fade, her finger clutched in both of her son’s hands. When the sun was high in the sky, and both of them had fed, she took up her staff, and made the descent back down the hill. It was even harder coming down again, but this time, at least, she didn’t have to make the trip alone.

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