At the last stop sign I turned right and jogged down a empty street lined with tired looking boarded up old houses and yards that backed up to the woods. I slipped between the last two houses and ducked under a broken board in the fence of the last house. Grass and weeds had taken over the backyard while ivy strangled the ancient swing set and covered the back of the house. I followed a narrow path through the grass to the back door where I gave a quick look around then slipped inside.
“Remy, you here?” I called softly.
It was dark in the house except for the dusty bands of light that spilled in between the boards over the windows. Thankfully I knew the house pretty well and I didn’t need much light to find my way around. I left the kitchen and walked down a short hallway. On my right was the empty shell that used to be a living room and on my left was the closed door to the den. I pushed the door and it swung inward on creaky hinges.
“Remy?” I whispered loudly, trying to see through the dense shadows of the room. Silence greeted me. Where the hell is he? I spun to go back the way I’d come.
“Argh!” I found myself face to face with a thin, pale grey face with large round violet eyes and a mop of shaggy gray-brown hair. I stumbled back and he reached for me, grabbing my shoulders in a strong grip that belied his slender build.
“Jesus, Remy!” I slapped a hand to my chest as he steadied me. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
The troll gave me a lopsided grin, revealing a row of short sharp teeth. “You too young for heart attack,” he said with a fierce little smirk that would send a chill through anyone who did not know him.
“You late,” he chastised me.
“I’m sorry. Malloy was twenty minutes late and I got here as fast as I could. How are they doing?”
“Not so bad. Fren worried but I tell him if Sara say she get medicine, she will.” He gave me an expectant look.
I smiled and pulled the package from inside my coat to lay it in his eager hands. “Have I ever let you down?”
Remy immediately turned and headed to the kitchen with me close on his heels. Curious about the contents of the package that had come at such a high price, I watched as he removed the cloth to reveal a small rectangular wooden box. He lifted the lid and poured the contents out into a large shallow stone bowl then he picked up a smooth rounded stone and began to grind whatever was in the bowl. I moved closer and saw pale golden crystals the texture and color of coarse cane sugar. As Remy ground the crystals into powder the smell of rotten eggs and ammonia I’d gotten earlier grew stronger. I waved a hand in front of my nose. Definitely not sugar. Remy had called it Baktu when he asked me to find it but he hadn’t been too clear on exactly what it was, just that it came from some place in Africa.
He quickly reduced the crystals to powder then he spat in the bowl several times and stirred the mixture with a smooth wooden stick to make a thick paste. “Come,” he said at last, taking up the heavy bowl and heading for the stairs. I followed him quietly. My part was done and the rest was up to my friend now.
In the first room at the top of the stairs, a pallet of rags had been laid on the bare wooden floor and a small dark shape lay curled up on the rags whimpering. The upstairs windows were not boarded up so I could make out the creature’s rounded body and long spindly limbs. Kneeling by the pallet was a second creature and his ugly squashed face looked at us hopefully when we entered the room. I gave him a smile and pointed at the bowl in Remy’s hands and he grunted softly to his mate who replied in kind. I had no idea what they were saying because I didn’t speak boggie, but it didn’t take much imagination to guess he was reassuring her.
Remy knelt beside the pallet and I stood behind him where I could observe and not get in the way. He laid the stone bowl on the floor and grunted at the boggies in their own language. Then he gently repositioned the female boggie until she lay on her back with her swollen belly bared to us. Boggies live in bogs – as their name implies – and they are usually covered in mud. The female was unusually clean and I wondered if Remy had done it in preparation for the procedure.
Fren, the male boggie, moved closer and took one of his mate’s small hands in both of his. His large eyes brimmed with love but it could not hide the fear I saw in his face. I wanted to tell him it would be ok but he could not understand me. And I wasn’t sure if everything would be alright. According to Remy, boggies normally have easy births, but Mol’s pregnancy had been very difficult. After being ill for months, she was very frail and her baby refused to come. Boggie pregnancies are not like human pregnancies where the baby comes after nine months. If the mother is sick or weak, the body does not go into labor. If the baby is not delivered, both mother and child will die.
I watched as Remy began to smooth the paste over Mol’s extended belly with gentle hands. She stiffened and made a weak mewling sound because her belly was so swollen and tender that the slightest touch hurt her. This close to her, I could sense her pain and fear and a familiar urge awoke in me; the need to go to her and try to take away the pain. But I trusted Remy and right now he was Mol’s best chance of getting through this. I just clenched my hands and observed.
He finished applying the thick paste and laid the bowl aside. Then he spread his long hands across Mol’s belly and applied the slightest pressure against the bulge that was her unborn child. He started to chant in troll tongue and I only recognized a handful of words but they were enough to tell me he was praying. Trolls are deeply faithful their god and they mix prayer with their magic in whatever they do. I had seen enough of Remy’s abilities to have great respect for his faith and his magic.
The paste soon dried to a brittle shell and I noticed that Mol seemed to be in less pain now and able to bear the weight of Remy’s hands. Was it working?
Mol’s scream made the hair lift on the back of my neck. I fell to my knees beside Remy as Mol’s stomach began to contract so violently that her whole body shook from it. “What’s wrong?”
“This normal,” he replied, lifting his hands from the boggie. “Baby coming.”
“It’s coming?” I asked dumbly. Mol looked like she was being ripped apart from the inside, not about to deliver a baby. But then I had no idea what was normal for a boggie birth. Like most of the People, boggies are secretive and shy of humans. It was a sign of their gratitude and respect that I was permitted to stay and witness this event. Tears filled my eyes and I watched as nature took over and Mol’s body found the strength it needed to bring her baby into the world.
Fren was there to take the infant when it arrived. The little brown body was incredibly small and doll-like and it made no sound when its father cradled it in his arms. Fren stared at his newborn and ran his fingers over the infant’s face as if he could not believe it was real.
“Shouldn’t the baby be crying?” I whispered to Remy, trying not to disturb the boggies. Fren cooed at the baby and Mol lay there with her eyes closed, too exhausted to even look at her child.
Remy nodded, his face grim.
That’s when I felt it, the familiar pulling sensation drawing me toward the baby like steel to a magnet. I gasped softly. “He’s sick, so sick…” The first icy tendrils of death brushed my skin and I knew we were too late. If I’d only gotten here earlier.