Page 56 of Heir of Draga

Sirus.

Veri ran, worried when the sounds of battle ceased. There weren’t even the moans and cries of the dying and the mourning.

She burst into the seat and had to climb over piles of bodies. Most were monsters but too many were their own soldiers, warriors of Scyria, the fleet, as well as innocents. Veri slipped on blood, trying not to think too much about what her hands were touching.

After cycles fighting those creatures she was used to carnage – but one never really got used to the sight of dead children. It always ripped a hole in her chest she had to ignore until after the worst was over.

When Veri reached the wide open space where one would most likely receive visitors and conduct tours of the capitol she stopped. It was drenched in blood – both black and red. An abandoned mecha drew her eye from all the carnage – so many of the mechas ripped to pieces and reduced to little more than scrap metal.

Then she saw him, the large barbarian warrior lord. He was stooped over a body and Veri picked up the pace, checking the surroundings for any lingering creatures. “Sirus…” Then she saw and Veri stopped dead in her tracks, hand covering her mouth in horror.

The eldest, Anatoly, was skewered, claws sticking up from his body and his dead lifeless eyes stared at nothing. In his arms was the pregnant Lady Elena. Anatoly held her close even in death. From the looks of it he’d fought with the claws still in his chest.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen such an atrocity, and certainly not the first time she’d had to comfort a surviving family member, but it didn’t matter how many times she saw it. The devastation and loss on the one left alive was always the most heartbreaking.

Lady Elena had been near the end of her pregnancy…there could still be a chance.

Veri knelt beside Sirus and deactivated her helmet. Then she moved him aside. She had to pry Anatoly’s arms from his wife. All those cycles of field medicine and the occasional surprise – she’d done it before and she could do it again.

She placed her ear against the round belly, ignoring the tears she felt sliding down her face. The body was still warm which was promising. She activated the tech on her suit and placed her palm on the belly of the dead Lady, shifting as she watched the head’s up display for signs of life.

“There’s no use, Veri,” Sirus said, reaching for her. “Elena fell. The babe is most likely damaged.”

“There’s a heartbeat,” she whispered. “Move!” Veri shoved him off and whipped out her knife. She kept one hand on the belly, feeling as she sliced, watching the display carefully so she didn’t cut into the child.

Blood ran from the cut – it wasn’t too late.

Veri deactivated her gloves, exposing her clean hands. This part she had to do by instinct alone. Slowly she slid her hands into the wide cut, feeling through the layers of muscle and fat and skin. She peeled it aside where she could. Then Veri felt that familiar slimy sac. She gripped the babe with both hands.

“I need someone to push the belly towards me. It will help prevent further damage if I don’t have to pull as hard.” Instantly Peter obeyed and Veri felt the babe slide forward. She tugged just a bit more. “Sirus can you widen the cut for me?”

The large male looked fascinated, disgusted, absolutely wrecked in his grief – but there was a shred of hope. He pulled the skin wider and with Peter pushing…Veri lifted the babe from the dead mother and more tears ran down her face as she tried not to think about how the child would never know its parents – born into a world of blood and gore and death.

She cradled the unbroken sac and reached for her smallest knife, barely bigger than her pinky finger. One careful slash and she could see a foot. Veri tried not to get her hopes up. The babe still had to breathe.

Slipping the sac away she checked the airways first. “Scan it,” she ordered. The words came out choked up and desperate. This was always the worst part – not knowing what the outcome of ripping open a mother would be. Violating the dead body always made her feel covered in slime, but on occasion…it was worth what it did to her soul.

“It’s faint, but it’s there,” Peter said in wonder.

Veri nodded and slapped the babe’s cheeks as gently as she could, but still nothing. Then she put her mouth over the nose and mouth and sucked out the mucous. She spat it out and flipped the babe, patting and rubbing its back.

When the cry filled the empty, dead space she smiled in crushing relief, slumping as she cradled the babe to her chest, her tears marring its perfect little face. The tiny fists thrashed as the infant started to cry in earnest. Veri looked up and gave the Heir of Scyria to Sirus, carefully handing over the fragile thing.

The look on the warrior’s face – wonder and disbelief mixed with so much pain. She would never forget it.

“Thank you, Veri…I don’t think we’ll ever be able to repay you.”

She shrugged and stood, giving them space as a family. Veri tried to put that mask of calm boredom back on, but it didn’t fit with the emotions she felt – the draw to the child.

Peter and Sirus had lost everything. They deserved a moment alone.

“There is nothing to repay,” Veri murmured, touching the babe’s face one last time. “I was simply lucky I’ve had to do it before.” Then she turned and started going through the bodies, ignoring the pressure building in her chest.

“Veri!”

She whirled around and Asher ran towards her. When he reached her he stopped and checked her from head to toe. “The blood isn’t mine,” Veri reassured him.

The babe cried harder and she turned to watch Sirus give the tiny girl child to Peter who wrapped her up in the cleanest cloth he could find.

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