Heart of the Mountain

"Iden!" she exclaimed, "you're just in time! Come, come!"

Before he could ask her what was happening, she took him by the hand, dragging him into the hallway. She hurried him through the main hall, the ceiling high above them adorned with chandeliers, the walls decorated with murals and paintings that were left over from the previous owner. There was a large dining table that occupied the center of the room, the chairs ornately carved, some of Isabelle's suits of gilded armor lining the walls. Their feet echoed on the checkerboard floor as she dragged him along, entering the West wing and turning towards the stone steps that led down into the cellars.

She paused to unbolt a heavy wooden door, leading Iden into a dimly lit room with an arched stone ceiling, empty wine racks stacked against the walls. At the far end of the room was a fireplace, the hearth brimming with what looked like a pyre made from dry wood and plant matter, flickering flames licking at the dusty stonework.

"It's time!" Isabelle whispered, practically bouncing on the spot. Iden crept closer, shielding himself from the heat, glancing into the fire to see the clutch of nine eggs. They were more elongated than he had initially assumed, not really the same shape as a chicken egg, their shells leathery and flexible rather than rigid. They had been incubating in the fire ever since Isabelle had laid them a few weeks prior. She had kept them warm with her breath, tending the fire diligently while they waited for the eggs to hatch. Apparently, the time had come.

Iden saw movement coming from one of the eggs, the shell shifting, like someone moving beneath a blanket. It didn't crack. Instead, it tented upwards. A tiny claw poked through the hole, which was followed by a hand, Iden's heart starting to race as he saw blue scales reflecting the glow of the flames. As excited as he was, he was also a little apprehensive. What were their children going to look like?

"Should we help them?" Iden asked.

"No. They must be strong enough to escape the shell on their own if they are to survive," Isabelle replied, crouching beside him to watch the baby as it struggled against its bonds. A second tiny, clawed hand emerged to tear the shell like paper, and then a head broke free. Iden's heart swelled as he saw the features of an infant, its tuft of dark hair damp with fluid from the egg, a pair of almost imperceptibly small horns sprouting from its forehead. It had no snout, and its skin was clear, just like his own. Its eyes were still closed, and so he couldn't be sure of their color, or the shape of the pupils. Much like one of Isabelle's semi-transformed states, the blue scales were limited to its extremities, the same iridescent blues and greens that were present on its mother.

Iden fought the impulse to pull the infant from the hearth. He had to remind himself that it was only partially human, the flames were of no more danger to it than water was dangerous to a duck. The baby rolled out of its egg, lying on its back and jerking its limbs like a newborn that had just left the womb, a stubby tail waving back and forth. It opened its mouth and sucked in a breath, starting to cry, its little brow furrowing as its cheeks began to redden.

Only now did Isabelle see fit to lean in and pick the infant up, cradling it in her arms. There was a flash of flame as she conjured a soft blanket, swaddling the baby, bundling it up as she rocked it back and forth. The crying soon abated, the baby apparently tired from its ordeal.

"It's a girl," she whispered, a warm smile brightening her face as she glanced up at Iden. "The first of our brood. Come, say hello to her."

Iden inched closer, leaning in to get a look at the baby. With her body wrapped in the blanket, the only sign that she wasn't entirely human were the stubby horns on her head.

"She's perfect," he said, "I was expecting them to look...more like you."

"How flattering," Isabelle giggled. "She has your hair, look."

"And your scales."

"Here, hold her," Isabelle said as she foisted the sleeping baby into his hands. He dropped his rabbits, taking the child from her as she moved back to the fireplace. "The next one is coming!"

Iden couldn't believe how light the baby was, she weighed almost nothing, her little head so small that it could rest in his calloused palm. He was almost afraid of holding her, she looked so fragile, as if he might break her by handling her in the wrong way. She yawned, exposing a mouth full of sharp teeth that were already developed. Dragons did not produce milk as far as he knew, the infants might come out of the egg ready for meat.

An odd sensation overcame him as he looked down at her, a kind of euphoria, butterflies swarming in his belly. He had only just met this tiny person, and yet he was already certain that he loved her, that he would do anything to protect her. Had he and Isabelle really created this little creature together? He felt oddly proud of himself, as though he had just completed a great work of art.

The baby slipped an arm out of her blanket, gripping his finger in her tiny hand. She was surprisingly strong for her size, her claws pricking his skin like those of a kitten. He looked over to see Isabelle pulling another baby from the hearth, as though it was being birthed from the flames. She swaddled it much like the first, passing it to Iden.

"Are they all coming?" he asked, growing somewhat alarmed. "Should I go fetch a basket or something?"

"You're the one who wanted an army of children," she said, giving him a smirk.

"At this rate, we're going to have to build a barracks."

"Don't make me laugh," she giggled, "you'll wake them!"

She repeated the procedure with the third baby, Iden noting that she had gone as far as choosing different colors of fabric for each one.

"Is that one a boy, or a girl?" Iden asked.

"Two girls and a boy so far," she replied, "you already have your heir. None of the other eggs are moving, these must be the strongest of the brood. The rest will emerge when they're ready."

"What are we going to name them all?" he wondered. "Have you thought about it at all?"

"Not really," she admitted, "it always struck me as strange to name a baby the moment that it comes into the world. A name should be influenced by one's personality, one's temperament, don't you agree?"

"There are some who believe that the name influences the personality," Iden said, glancing down at one of the babies. Much like the first, this one had a little tuft of hair and a pair of stunted horns on its otherwise bald head, its eyes tightly closed.

"Perhaps we should conduct an experiment," Isabelle said, rocking one of the babies in her arms. This one was rowdier than the first two, Iden could see its little limbs moving beneath its blanket as it struggled. "You can name four of them, and I'll name the other five."

"Why do you get to name five?" Iden asked, feigning indignation.

"We could decide who gets to name the fifth one with a contest of strength if you'd like," she replied with a mischievous grin.

"Four is a good, round number," Iden replied hastily. "What do you think the maids will say? Will we have to keep them down here? The entire estate will want to come and take a look at them once word spreads that we've had children, the housekeepers will want to play with them. Can we trust them?"

"That is something that I have been thinking about," she replied, her tone becoming more serious. "Amongst my collection is a spellbook that was written in the blood of a Fey, creatures renowned for their illusory magic. Until such a time as I can instruct our children in polymorphing, it will prevent any of the peasants that live on our grounds from discovering their true nature. The spells will have to be performed regularly, but it should suffice."

"That's a relief," Iden sighed. "We've got a good thing going here, the last thing that I want is for us to get run out by a mob now that we have...nine mouths to feed."

She walked over to him and kissed his cheek.

"We earned a lot of goodwill when we decided to let the tenants live here without paying rent. I'm not sure that they would run us out of our home, even if they caught a glimpse of a horn or a tail. The priest who tends to the chapel, on the other hand, I'm not so sure about."

"Did I ever thank you?" Iden asked.

"For what?" Isabelle replied, cocking her head at him curiously.

"For all of this. An estate, enough wealth that I don't have to risk my neck every day, three healthy children and counting. This is everything that I ever wanted, more than anyone but a madman could hope for."

"I don't think so," she replied. "But if you hadn't come to claim my head, then I'd still be living in a dingy cave, sitting on a pile of treasure that I had absolutely no use for."

"You're the only person who ever saw me as more than just a sword for hire, the only person who ever believed that I could be better than I am," he added as he stood there with the two infants clutched in his arms.

"I didn't better you," Isabelle chuckled, "you chose to better yourself. You made a decision to do the right thing, to obey your conscience, to aspire to greater ideals. That was all you, and everything that you have now is a result of that one choice, that one moment of clarity. That's all life really is," she continued, gazing down at the rowdy baby as it struggled against its blanket. "A series of choices, a handful of moments is all that defines who you are. This child may have centuries of life ahead of her, but her defining moments may come down to a few scant seconds."

Iden glanced down at his newly hatched children, wondering what their lives might be like. They had the best possible start in life, as much opportunity as a person could get, and their education would be world-class with Isabelle as their tutor. If she could impart some of her wisdom, and if he could teach them restraint and humility, then he had no doubt that they would grow up to do great things.

"Maybe I'm getting a bit ahead of myself," Iden began, "but this doesn't quite constitute an army yet. We almost have a conroi, we should probably work our way up to a battalion next."

"Ever the womanizer," Isabelle said, giving him a suggestive look. "If I didn't know better, I might suspect that you had taken a liking to my true form."

"It has its merits," he replied with a knowing smile. "Now, tell me which book you need to start casting the spells, and I'll go fetch it for you. Being showered with attention by the scullery maids is all part of becoming a mother, you know."

"Alright, but we may want to wait a few hours before we venture back upstairs. It will be hard enough explaining how I birthed nonuplets like a damned litter of kittens without having them appear two or three at a time."

Iden handed her the two babies, careful not to disturb them. She took one in her arm, and a long, blue tail emerged from beneath her gown to cradle the last one.

"It's the only book with silver lettering on the spine," she said, "you can't miss it. And Iden?"

He paused at the foot of the stone steps, turning to look back at her.

"Fatherhood suits you well."

THE END