Two weeks after leaving Valmandi, they finally arrived in Chatanda. Located near Kavora’s southwest border, the town itself was surrounded by the fields and farms that were a common sight in this province. Dozens of Visan refugees had migrated here after the invasion, and the settlement seemed to have grown even more since Aleida had last visited. Many of the older buildings had been repaired or renovated, and carefully cultivated gardens grew where there had once been only weeds and rocks.
She found her brother in Hasan’s apple orchard, just where she’d known he would be. He sat on a bench under the shade of a large tree, and he was so busy murmuring something to Feros that he didn’t see her at first. Aleida smiled as she watched him ruffle the strix’s neck feathers with his knuckles. He looked happy. Pale and thin and sunken-eyed—not as healthy as she’d hoped—but happy.
Feros stiffened and turned his head toward Aleida. Tyrus lowered his hand and followed the strix’s gaze, shielding his eyes against the sun with his free hand. A hand which trembled, the fingers contorting in an odd sort of way, like he had to fight to keep them under his control. A wide grin broke across his freckled face when he saw her, and he waved.
Once, he would have sprung up and run to her. The last time she’d seen him, he’d still been able to walk with a cane. Now, he didn’t even try to stand, and the cane was nowhere in sight. His bony legs didn’t look strong enough to support him, most of the muscle having been eaten away by Storm Withering Syndrome—the same disease that would eventually lay waste to the rest of him.
A piece of Aleida’s heart shattered, but she tried not to show it as she kicked the horse into a trot and rode to him. Feros gave a disgruntled shriek, flying into the branches above as she approached. She dismounted and threw her arms around her brother’s frail shoulders. His bones jutted sharply against her skin, and she gulped back the knot forming in her throat.
Still seated, Tyrus put his own arms around her shoulders and laughed. “Aleida! I can’t believe it’s really you. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you anytime soon.” His voice was losing its boyish pitch, instead taking on a deep timbre that reminded Aleida of their father.
She blinked against the sudden burning in her eyes. He’d changed so much in the year she’d been gone. “I’ve been away too long,” she said. “It’s good to be home.”
“How long are you staying?”
She let him go and stood back with her arms crossed. “Oh, you’re that eager to get rid of me, are you?”
“Can you blame me?” Tyrus replied. “You’re a giant pain in the ass whenever you’re here.”
She shoved him in the shoulder, but not half as hard as she would have before he got sick. “I can’t stay too long, lucky for you. I’ll have to leave tomorrow.”
“Ah. Still chasing after that cure, then.” He winked, but the quick smile he flashed didn’t light up his eyes the way it should have.
“I’m close, Tyrus. I’m so close. And as soon as I get my hands on that cure, I’ll come straight back here. I’ll make you well, and we’ll never have to be apart again.”
Tyrus grimaced and shook his head. “Oh, don’t say that. I miss you, but not that much.”
His jokes eased some of the sting of her guilt, the way they always did. Aleida resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. He’d been too old for that for years now.
“Valkyra,” Tyrus said, nodding to the Spirit Tarja perched on the horse’s saddle. “It’s good to see you again. I hope you’re keeping this one out of trouble.”
“I do my best,” Valkyra replied. “She’s quite stubborn, as you know, and not very good at taking directions.”
Tyrus laughed. “Oh, I know. She always did like to be in charge.”
“Where’s Hasan?” Aleida asked, glancing around the orchard. There was no sign of anyone else through the trees.
“Don’t be rushing off to bother him already. He’s busy, but I’m sure he’ll show up for lunch before too long.” A teasing grin brought a dimple to Tyrus’ cheek. “The two of you will have plenty of time to whisper about me behind my back.”
“We wouldn’t have to whisper if you’d just be honest about how you’re really doing,” Aleida retorted.
Tyrus shrugged. “Oh, I can do honesty. My legs don’t really work anymore, I’m losing strength and control in my arms and hands, and most days I’m exhausted.” He spoke matter-of-factly, his face dispassionate. “That’s what Storm Withering Syndrome does to you. Nothing surprising about it. I’d much rather hear about your adventures. I’m sure they’re far more exciting than anything that happens here.”
Aleida sighed. She wasn’t likely to get any additional specifics out of Tyrus, so she’d have to put her questions and worries aside until Hasan returned. She unbridled the horse and let him wander into the orchard to graze, then sat down on the bench next to her brother. Valkyra flew over to join them, curling herself into a ball in the sun.
Tyrus prompted her with a raised eyebrow, and she recounted the more exciting parts of her journey from the past year. She pulled out her drawings to show him some of the sights she’d seen and the people she’d met, including Amar and his friends, though she didn’t tell him the extent to which she had pursued them, or why. Tyrus had a gentle soul, and he wouldn’t have approved of her using violence to find a cure for his illness, no matter how dire his situation. Once, Aleida might have agreed with him. But she had grown hard and fierce and cold these last several years. She hoped that in doing so, she’d been able to preserve some part of Tyrus’ gentle spirit. A different kind of strength, but no less important.
They talked for hours, until Aleida’s stomach started to growl and she looked up to realize that the sun had long since passed its noonday height. “Where is Hasan?” she asked again with a frown. “He doesn’t leave you out here all day, I hope.”
“He does because I ask him to.” Tyrus nodded to a pile of books and papers on the ground beneath the bench. “I’m supposed to be studying and practicing my letters, but most of the time, I just read stories and daydream. It’s a lot more interesting than the history and mathematical assignments he gives me.”
Aleida chuckled. “He’s only trying to put that big brain of yours to good use. Papa always said you could be an academic at one of those fancy Kavoran schools if you wanted to.”
Tyrus grimaced at the idea. “That sounds incredibly boring.”
“What is it I hear you two laughing about over here?” called a deep, kind voice from behind them.
Aleida turned to see Hasan walking toward them, his barrel chest filling out a long, saffron tunic that fell past his knees. His head was wrapped in a deep blue turban, and a droll mouth smiled from beneath a graying moustache over a bushy beard. He raised a hand to greet them. His numerous rings glinted in the sun and sent specks of light dancing over the dark skin of his cheeks.
Aleida stood and bowed to him in the traditional Kavoran way, but he extended his arm to her instead. They clasped each other by the wrists, the way Aleida might have greeted another Visan. “It’s good to see you,” he said. “You should have written to let us know you’d be returning. I would have prepared a feast to welcome you.”
“That’s not necessary,” she replied. “I’m only passing through.”
Hasan clicked his tongue. “Do you really need to go gallivanting off so soon? Surely you can stay a while. We’ve missed you.”
The implication in his tone was clear, something Hasan had tried to persuade Aleida of many times before. Your brother needs you. Stay here where you belong. But Aleida couldn’t do that in good conscience. Not when there might still be a way to save Tyrus. She was of far more use to him looking for a cure than she would be sitting by and watching helplessly as his body deteriorated.
“I wish I could,” she said. “But I really do need to leave in the morning. Today is all the time I can spare.”
Hasan frowned at her for a moment, then glanced down at Tyrus. “We can discuss it later. You two must be hungry. Co
me up to the house and we’ll eat.”
Aleida went to retrieve her horse. She slipped the bridle over his head and led him back to the bench. Hasan had bent over Tyrus, who wrapped his arms around the big man’s shoulders and allowed himself to be hoisted onto his feet. His knees bent inward at a stiff angle, and his legs began to shake as he shifted his weight onto them.
“Slow down,” Hasan said. “Let me hold onto you for a second.”
“I’m fine,” Tyrus insisted. His voice came out in a shallow huff, like he was trying to catch his breath.
Aleida brought the horse up beside him. “Here, get on.”
“You’ll have to help me up,” he said.
Hasan positioned Tyrus in front of a stirrup. Aleida bent and fit his heel into her cupped palms. She raised him up while Hasan steadied him and helped him swing his other leg over the saddle. Valkyra jumped from the bench onto Aleida’s shoulder, and she led the horse to the elegant little house at the edge of the orchard.
A spicy aroma wafted through the open door, already seeming to warm Aleida as she breathed it in. She’d always enjoyed Hasan’s cooking. They tied the horse to a fencepost and helped Tyrus dismount. He nearly collapsed when he hit the ground, but he only laughed as Aleida caught him. “Sorry. I’m so clumsy these days.”
She forced herself to smile back and positioned herself under his shoulder. He was taller than her now. He had been even the last time she’d seen him, but it still caught her off guard. A part of her still looked at him and expected to see the towheaded, dirty-faced little boy who had tagged along on all her adventures, whether she wanted him there or not.
Hasan came around to Tyrus’ other side, and they helped him into the house together. He did his best to match his steps to theirs but stumbled a few times along the way. He was sucking in ragged breaths by the time they sat him down on a chair inside.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
Hasan lifted the lid from the pot cooking on a low earthen stove. The smell made Aleida’s stomach growl.
“It’s almost finished,” he said, setting the lid back down. He headed for the door and gestured for Aleida to follow him. “Would you be so kind as to help me gather some herbs from the garden?”
“Of course,” she replied.
Tyrus shook his head. “There you go, off to whisper all your secrets about me somewhere I can’t follow. That’s fine. I’ll have you know I’m a very good eavesdropper.”
Aleida rolled her eyes dramatically at him before following Hasan to the door. Valkyra stayed behind, perched on the windowsill. “Don’t worry, dear,” she said to Tyrus. “We can share our own secrets here, once they’re gone.”
The sound of his laughter followed them outside. They walked around to the back of the house and down a short path to a large garden full of vegetables, herbs, and flowers. The plants were all green and healthy, so vibrant they looked more like a painting than real life. Hasan could make anything grow and would coax even the most lifeless plants back to vitality.
Of course, it helped that he was a Tarja. He’d spent years training in the skills needed to help living things heal. It was part of what made him such a good caretaker for Tyrus. Aleida watched the man fondly as he knelt to examine some flowers. The day Hasan had taken a pair of Visan orphans under his wing had been the best thing that had happened to them since the invasion.
She knelt in the dirt beside him and began to select the herbs that were ready for picking, the same way he’d taught her years ago. “How is he really?” she asked while they worked.
“You saw for yourself. He’s not doing as well as he tells you in his letters.”
She’d guessed as much. “How bad?”
“His toes and feet have already darkened. It won’t be long before the same thing happens to his hands.”
Aleida frowned. Poor circulation was one of the hallmarks of Storm Withering Syndrome. The storm part of the name came from the grayish-purple tint a person’s extremities took on in the later stages of the disease, like storm clouds. It meant Tyrus’ heart was already starting to fail.
“He was doing so well,” she said. “I thought he’d have more time.”
Hasan gave her a grim look. “Honestly, I’m surprised he’s survived this long.”
“I’m sure that’s only because of your care and attention. I can’t even begin to express how much it means to me.”
He shook his head. “There’s no need for that. Tyrus is like a son to me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”
“I know, but still, thank you.”
Hasan nodded and placed gentle fingers at the base of a plant that was starting to droop. It perked up a little as he channeled altma into its roots, and the leaves brightened to a more vibrant shade of green.
“Aleida,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I’ve done all I can, but I don’t think he’s going to live much longer.”
She bit down on her bottom lip to stop the tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t want Hasan to see her cry or know how terrified she was.
“This illness is devastating,” he went on. “There is no cure. I don’t know what you think you’re looking for out there, but your brother is only getting weaker.”
“I know.”
“Do you? His pain worsens every day. Today has been a good day for him. Most days are not so good. His time in this world is coming to an end, and you should be here to see him through that.”
“No.” Aleida dug her fingers into the soil. “I’m so close, Hasan. You have to trust me. I know of a way to cure him. It’s his only chance.”
He sighed. “I understand why you want to keep chasing after this. He and I have waited every day, hoping you’d come back with some miracle for him. But we’re past that now. You did your best, and he needs you here.”
“I can’t just sit here and wait for him to die.”
“Don’t think of it that way. He puts on a brave face, but he’s scared. You can help him find courage. You’d be giving him some comfort and helping him pass on to the afterlife with dignity.”
“No!” Aleida choked out the word through the knot in her throat. “Don’t say that. He’s strong. Don’t you dare give up on him.”
Hasan put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You know I would never do that.”
She pulled away from him, clenching her jaw and rapidly blinking back tears. “How much time does he have?”
“It’s impossible to say exactly.”
“You must have some idea. A few days, a few months, a year?”
“I don’t know.”
“I just need a little more time,” Aleida said quietly. “He can hold on a little longer. I know he can.”
“Maybe. But is it really fair for you to ask that of him?” He fixed her with a sad, piercing stare. “Who are you really doing this for, Aleida? You, or him?”
She wanted to slap him. How dare he ask her that? Of course, she wanted to keep Tyrus alive. She couldn’t bear the idea of losing the last of her family. But he wanted to live, too. He was only fourteen years old. He still had so much life ahead of him.
“For him,” she hissed. “Everything I do is for him.”
“Then please, I beg you to reconsider. Stay with him. Do this one last thing for him. It’s the best you can give him now.”
Aleida returned his gaze with a glare, picked up the herbs she’d gathered, and walked back to the house with all the heat of an erupting volcano burning inside her chest.
That night, after eating a delicious supper and hearing Tyrus recount some of the local gossip, Aleida lay awake on the bed Hasan had made for her on the floor. She stared up at the ceiling, listening to her brother’s snores. They’d talked late into the night, until Hasan finally insisted that they settle down and get some sleep. Tyrus had protested the suggestion at first, but when Aleida admitted she was feeling rather tired, he’d fallen asleep in minutes.
She h
adn’t found sleep so easily. Her mind was a torrent of worries—things she had no control over but still couldn’t seem to let go of. She kept hearing Hasan’s voice in her head, reminding her of how little time Tyrus had left. A cold sense of dread had been weighing her down all day, and no matter how many times she told herself she wouldn’t let her brother die, that fear would not release her.
Giving up on sleep, she pushed herself up to sit with her back against the wall. Valkyra fluttered down from her perch on the windowsill and settled onto her knee. The dragon’s white fur gleamed a bright silver in the moonlight. “What’s troubling you, child?” she asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper.
“Tyrus,” Aleida said. “He’s not doing as well as he seems. Hasan thinks the end is near.” She almost managed to get the words out smoothly, but her voice cracked a little at the end.
“And what do you think?”
“I don’t know. Hasan said I should stay here so I can be with him when—” Her eyes started to burn again, and she took a few breaths before continuing. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to give up on saving him, but I can’t stand the idea of him being alone if it really is too late.”
“He’s still alive, Aleida. There’s still hope.”
“You don’t know that.”
Valkyra brushed her silky tail against Aleida’s hand. “What I know is that you won’t be able to find peace if you give up on him. You vowed to do everything in your power to save him.”
“But what if I can’t? What if this is all for nothing, and he…dies alone?”
“That would be truly awful,” Valkyra said. “But how much worse do you think you would feel living with the knowledge that there might have been a way to save his life, and you didn’t pursue it to the end?”
Tears slid from Aleida’s eyes and landed on her shirt in little dark spots. She wiped them from her cheeks quickly, but they kept coming. “I don’t want this to be the last time I see him.”
“It won’t be.” Valkyra’s voice was as sure and as solid as stone. “We’ll find the immortal man and his friends, and we’ll use his secret to save Tyrus before it’s too late. You have to believe that.”
Tethered Spirits Page 20
