The rapidly setting sun cast a chequer-board pattern across the wooden floor.  Half-seated and half hanging from the ceiling by the stout cords around her wrists that were attached to a heavy bar that ran across the ceiling she panted heavily, head down.  It seemed to her that she could pick out every knot in the wood of the floor, see every tiny crack and the dust motes were made almost glorious by the sun’s dying rays.  Then the pain came again, rippling through her body, causing her to cry out against the agony.  The pain was sharp and deep, combined with a heavy pressure that was totally beyond her control.  The pain filled and consumed her, erasing all thought except to concentrate on the pain.

 

Eventually the pain lessened again and she could think.  She had been here for three months now.  When she had first left the Palace in Noorvix Ming had not had any true idea of where she could go, where she could hide.  All she had known was that she could not stay a moment longer, that she would have to cease her barely started studies with the monks of the Black Lotus.  Her shame was becoming more obvious daily and soon enough they would have expelled her from the school anyway.  This way, or at least so she had thought at the time, there was a chance, however slim, that she would be able to go back.  Go back to the warm embrace of those who had adopted her as family, High King Erich and Queen Urda.  Go back and finish the studies she had started and eventually become a monk of the Black Lotus, a goal she had lusted after for a long time.

 

Now, tied like this with her legs splayed apart, sweat dripping off her tawny skin, Ming wondered how she could have been so stupid.  If she had told the truth from the beginning she might not now be in this position.  Yet stubborn pride had led her to lie and send Slade, the Crown Prince and her one true, great love far away coldly casting him off as if she did not want him.  Even as she had rejected him, her own heart had been breaking to see the pain on his handsome face.  When she had determined on her plan she had not once given thought to the consequences. 

 

Regardless of the emotional pain she had sometimes known as an orphaned child, in spite of her privileged adoption into the royal lineage, and the many times she had experienced pain from wounds taken in battle nothing could have prepared her for that day.  She had torn his heart to shreds as much as her own, something she would have to live with till her last breath.  And now she must pay another price as her body was slowly being torn to pieces from inside.  She had been so young, so naive and so full of love for him and pride and confidence in herself that she had never once looked beyond the moment, never thought that this day would come.

 

The pain struck again, deeper and harder, as tears poured down her face mixing with the sweat dripping from her long black hair.  Suddenly she was certain the pain would kill her, perhaps not now but soon.  Ming became utterly convinced that she would die here in this barren room with its’ slatted wooden walls and cold wooden floor.  Around her she could hear people moving, murmuring soft and even gentle words but they meant nothing to her.  The relentless, bitter pain filled everything, consuming her in mind, body and soul. 

 

Ming tried to breathe deeply as she looked down at the floor through the curtain of her sweaty black hair.  A pile of plain white blankets lay directly beneath her; thin, soft blankets, their white purity spoiled as it was spotted now with blood, her blood.  Soon the blood would become a tidal wave, sweeping her life away.  In some small part of her mind she knew her thoughts were irrational but she could not shake the dreadful fear that was consuming her.  Not just a fear for her own life, but for that of the unborn child within her fighting to enter the world.

 

Someone brushed her hair back from her face with a damp, cool cloth and offered her a wet rag to suck on for the moisture.  The priestesses of the moon goddess Lamia had taken her in after she left the Black Lotus monastery; telling her mentor Solomon only that she needed some time to reflect before she continued with her studies.  If her mentor, who had become like a father figure to her after she had left the palace, had known or even suspected of her pregnancy he had given no sign.  Ming had often wondered how much not only Solomon, but High King Erich and Queen Urda had known or suspected when first she had left the palace in order to join the monastery and then her lover, Slade, King Erich’s designated heir apparent, had also left court so quickly after her departure.

 

No one, not even her very best friend Ursula, Slade’s younger sister, or Wulfstan, an orphan raised in the Palace as she was and her lovers’ dearest friend, had ever asked her why.  Not a single person had demanded an explanation from her regarding why she had left Slade, why she had refused his proposal.  Nor had anyone ever questioned her decision to leave her lush, comfortable life in the Palace to train as a monk for the Black Lotus.  A career that was harsh and demanding.  Monks were expected to swear vows of chastity, honor, loyalty, poverty and charity; something she had been unable to do yet.  She had been forced to wait until the birth of her child.

 

Now she was alone, with only the comfort of the priestesses, instead of with Slade by her side giving birth to possibly a future Crown Prince who might one day High King of all Saxenburg.  Pride, her stupid, stubborn pride had kept her from accepting Slade’s proposal; in her own mind she could never forget that she was nothing more than a bastard off-cast given the charity of the royal family.  And now she would condemn her son, their son, to the same fate.  The priestesses would raise him but Ming knew that when the birth was over she would return to the monastery, take her final vows and put her love affair with Slade behind her; even if that meant leaving her son behind forever.

 

“Bear down now my lady,” the priestess at her feet said, “the baby’s head is crowning.  Now, push with all your strength.”

With a last agonizing flash of pain Ming suddenly felt the small body slip free from her body.  The precious baby was covered in blood and slime as the priestess cut the umbilical cord.    After washing his little body clean, they had wrapped this beautiful baby boy in another of the soft blankets.  Holding him close Ming smiled down at her crying new and only son.  Pulling down her tunic she turned him to face her and as she finally got him to suckle from her breast as she prayed that one day he would be able to forgive her for the decisions she was making this day.  She prayed with all her heart that her son would forever be safe and protected by her totem god, Belenus.

 

The priestesses worked quickly after the baby had been fed.  The women gave Ming a warm, cleansing, herbal bath before settling her and her newborn son in the large soft bed that had been prepared.  Holding her precious baby Ming felt a brief moment of doubt but she quickly brushed it aside.  He would be a vilified, bastard outcast in Saxenburg if his true identity ever became known.  She had no choice but to leave him to the care of the priestesses.  She took the precious ring that Slade had once given to her and insisted she keep, despite their break up, to the head priestess with instructions for her son to be given it when he attained his manhood. Briefly she wondered if perhaps one day he might even come looking for her. 

The distinctive ring was a wide band of gold bearing a large, square cut emerald etched with the image of a tiny dragon.  Even now she smiled as she remembered the day she and Slade and fought a dragon together; back in a time when she had still believed that that love conquered all and that their future would be together.

 

“And what shall be his name, my lady?” The head priestess asked, smiling at the new young mother.

“Sloane, he shall be called Sloane, after his father.  Tell him that when he grows to manhood.  Give him the ring and tell him that he was loved, dearly loved, but please, I beg of you, explain that I had no choice.” 

“Of course, my lady,” the priestess replied before settling on her knees to say the necessary prayers for both the tiny baby and his mother.

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**This flash fiction relates to characters from The Witchcraft Wars series