by Indie Gantz
Kor gives us a wave before disappearing into his tent, leaving Avias and I alone by the fire. We’re silent for a while, but neither of us make a move to go to sleep like Kor suggested. I don’t know why Avias doesn’t, but I kind of like sitting out here in silence, looking at the fire and staring up at the stars from time to time. It calms the random waves of anxiety that pulse through me.
“Your brother,” Avias says eventually, breaking the silence. “He doesn’t say much.” The words come out strained, and Avias almost looks embarrassed for having said them. It’s hard to tell in the dark. He sits close enough to be considered on the same side of the fire, but too far away to touch.
“No.” I sigh. “More than he used to though. He actually didn’t talk at all for a long time.”
I’m not really sure why I felt compelled to tell him that, but I don’t worry I’ve said something to give us away. That aspect of Tirigan has nothing to do with being Anunnaki or Téssera; it’s entirely Tirigan. He was right about his mutism being something that would draw too much attention, but now that we’re with Kor and his family, I don’t think we have to worry so much about that. They don’t seem like the kind of people that would be put off by such things. Take away everything else, and Tirigan is just a boy whose brain works differently. I don’t think that’s something to hide away, especially considering how far he’s come.
Then again, maybe it really isn’t my place to give Avias the breakdown on Tirigan’s past.
“What do you mean, at all?” Avias asks.
I shrug. “Tirigan didn’t speak out loud until recently.”
I look around for something to change the subject, suddenly feeling guilty about our conversation, but Avias speaks again before I can find anything interesting.
“I suppose he didn’t have the need to,” he says slowly. “With your family situation and experiences... and he already had you.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Maybe so.”
“There’s more to it though, isn’t there?” Even through the darkness, I can see how soft his expression is.
“Why do you say that?”
“Just... little things,” Avias explains with a small shrug. “He isn’t fond of touching, whether it’s with other people or the food on his plate. His prosody was somewhat… off when we first met, but it’s improved remarkably over the last two days.”
“He’s a fast learner,” I defend. “It’s not like he’s incapable. Tirigan is smarter than-”
“Yes, I figured that out quickly,” Avias interrupts, looking down at his own shoes. Quietly, he adds, “There is knowledge in his eyes.”
The poetic line kind of makes me want to laugh, but I stifle it.
“Well, I can’t exactly speak to that, but I did catch him reading Proust a few months back. Now he tortures me by reciting Swann’s Way anytime I make him mad.”
Avias laughs, and I join in after a second. It feels nice, having someone else to talk to like this, someone who isn’t related to me. Even if I barely know them, talking to our new friends fills up a piece of me I didn’t recognize as empty.
“Proust, huh?” Avias chuckles. “I actually haven’t gotten my hands on anything of his. A few of the Aplos books I’ve read reference him and how extremely involved his writing is, but I haven’t had the pleasure myself.”
“I didn’t check the spines of the books he packed, but I doubt Tirigan left that one behind. I’m sure he would let you borrow it if you asked.”
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. I don’t know what Tirigan and I would do if you guys were against us coming home with you.” The words come out quickly, and I almost regret saying them, but Avias’ face is open and kind. He looks back to the fire before he responds.
“I have to admit, when you told my father who you were, I was glad it wasn’t me who had to make the decision.” His eyes dart over to me, an apology ready. “I hope you don’t take that the wrong way, it’s just… I am not quite as trusting as my mother. And typically, my father isn’t either. Something about your story, something about your mother, must have really affected him.”
This isn’t really what I want to hear, how much everyone trusts us. It’s another reminder of the lies we’ve told, and the lies we will continue to tell.
“Yeah,” I reply, trying my best to keep the regret out of my voice. “It sounds like they were really close when they were young.”
“Apparently so,” Avias says shortly. “I am pleased to have you both come home with us, though. It’ll be a nice change.”
“Are you sure?” I counter, raising one eyebrow. “Kor said you and Oleander would have to share now. I feel bad…”
“Don’t concern yourself with that.” Avias smiles. “Although, with Ollie’s snoring, I may send him back down to you.”
“That’s fair,” I laugh. “Tirigan is one of those people who barely moves when they sleep, so I doubt it would bother him much.”
“We may have to do some rearranging then,” Avias says almost absently, eyelids drooping slightly as he looks back into the fire. “Maybe we should let Tirigan and Oleander share the room downstairs, and you and I can split mine. Bo’s room is practically a tomb, the smallest one in the house. I doubt you’d both fit in there” Avias continues and then looks at me sharply out of the corner of his eye. “That is, of course, if you’d be comfortable with such an arrangement.”
“I don’t see why not,” I respond as confidently as I can, though I’m somewhat uneasy. “But I can’t guarantee I don’t snore.”
“I’d take my chances over Oleander. The man is insufferable.”
I laugh. I don’t want to make it obvious at how much I don’t want to be separated from Tirigan, especially at night when we are vulnerable and it’s possible that I’ll set my bed on fire, but now I’ve backed myself into a corner by agreeing to it. Maybe by the time we get back to Pacoa, I’ll come up with something to make sure Tirigan and I stick together.
Avias and I continue to chat by the fire for a little while longer as the night carries on. He does his best to try and get to know me, and I try my best not to let him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Wayward Son
When I wake up in the morning, it’s to the unmistakable sounds of steel slicing into a tree trunk, and not to an overwhelming, all-consuming cloud of ash and smoke. Years of practice throwing knives has made that sound almost comforting, but hearing it now, knowing where we are and who we are with, makes me a little uneasy. I’m grateful for my night of dreamless sleep and have woken up in a good mood, but the idea of sharing our knife skills with our new friends seems a little premature. My mood starts to sour.
I can hear Tirigan talking quietly just outside our tent and Avias responding softly. There is also the now familiar sound of Bo rambling on about something and Oleander kindly replying every fourth sentence or so.
I open my eyes and pull myself up and out of the rented sleeping bag. I dress quickly, pulling on faded, torn jeans and the black shirt with gold threading I bought yesterday. I’m sure my hair is a disaster, so I pull it up into a messy bun. When I finally climb out of the tent, I’m barefoot and hungry.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Oleander teases. He leans away from Bo to extend his hand in my direction, apparently wanting me to slap it. I do, smiling back at him.
“Good morning.”
Bo and Oleander are huddled to the side of our tent and Avias is standing on the other side. He has one of Tirigan’s throwing knives in his hand and is testing its weight by bouncing the handle in his palm. Tirigan stands nearby, close to a tree base that has a roughly drawn bull’s eye carved into the bark.
“What’s all this?” I ask, letting Tirigan see my disapproval.
“You didn’t tell us you two were some sort of ninja warriors,” Bo exclaims. “Been holdin' out on us!”
“Ninja warriors?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at Tirigan.
I was up early, and I got bored. Avias came ou
t of his tent and saw me throwing.
So, of course, an impromptu lesson was in order.
Tirigan shrugs. I didn’t see a problem with it. He was interested in learning. I can teach him. Why are-
“Fine, whatever.” I’m not in the mood to argue. I walk over to where a bowl of fruit and some bread has been laid out. I grab a pear and a piece of bread, and join Bo and Oleander as they watch Avias learn to throw knives. All of the tents but ours have already been disassembled, with no sign of them on the campsite.
“Tirigan said he would teach us too when we get back,” Oleander says to me, pulling a piece of my bread off for himself.
“He isn’t the only one that could teach you,” I reply sharply, before I remember I’m not anxious to teach a skill that might give us an edge in a fight. Hopefully that isn’t something I’ll ever have to worry about with this group, but I’m surprised Tirigan hadn’t thought of it.
“Oh, is that right?” Oleander challenges with a smile. “Apologies, then.”
I hide my dark thoughts behind a smirk. “Where is everyone else?”
“Kor and Vi took the kids down to the festival with them. They wanted to sell a bit more before we left. They should be back soon. Our train leaves in an hour or so.”
“Won’t be another one to Pacoa until tomorrow either, so they best not be late,” Bo adds.
I take a few bites of my pear and watch as Avias attempts to throw the knife. It goes wide, and he guides it to the tree with a flick of his wrist.
“That’s cheating!” Bo yells.
“I didn’t want a knife just flying off, Bo,” Avias defends, rolling his eyes. “I’m not shouting victory over here.”
Tirigan smiles at the exchange, but it falters when he catches my gaze.
What?
What, what?
You were looking at me strangely.
A chuckle escapes. Probably because I really don’t know how to have this conversation with Tirigan, and I was actually beginning to wonder if I’d ever have the opportunity. With his social anxieties and some of his other limitations, I’ve always feared Tirigan wouldn’t be able to relate to anyone other than me and our parents. The way he was just smiling at Avias though, I may have been wrong to worry.
You were smiling at Avias. It was cute.
Cute?
Yeah, that’s what I said.
It’s not... cute. Don’t do that.
Do what?
See things that aren’t really there.
I roll my eyes and look away. “Sure, okay, Tirigan.”
“What?” Bo says turning to look at me. “You two telling secrets?”
“Hmm?” I reply back, startled at first by the question. “Oh, I’m sorry. Habit. I bet our telepathy could get annoying.”
“Yeah, I’d say,” Bo confirms, looking between me and Tirigan.
Avias pulls the knife back towards himself then tries to throw it again, this time it bounces off the tree and slams into the ground, blade down.
“Ignore her,” Oleander jumps in, shaking his head at Bo. “You two speak as you like, you don’t owe us anything.”
Bo rolls her eyes, but nods. “Yeah, okay.”
“Avias told me that there may be some room shuffling when we get back,” Oleander says then, just as Avias makes another attempt on the tree. Tirigan moves closer to give him some more pointers. “Tirigan and I in the downstairs bedroom and you and Avias upstairs?”
A nervous knot forms in my stomach.
“That’s what we talked about last night, yeah,” I reply quickly, “But really, we don’t want to kick you out of your room. We can squeeze in anywhere.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but you can’t bunk with me,” Bo says shortly. “There’s barely enough room for my bed, let alone one for you too.”
“And would we be wrong to assume you would give me your room and make things a lot easier for everyone who claims I snore?” Oleander asks.
“You assume right,” Bo replies back. “It took me forever to get my room the way I like it. Besides, my charcoal paintings on the wall aren’t really your style.”
“Right,” Oleander replies, an unbelieving look in his eyes. “Well, I guess that means Tirigan is stuck with me, then.”
Instead of replying, I take another bite of my pear. We fall into silence as we watch Avias attempt to get the blade into the bull’s eye, leaving me to think about our sleeping arrangements for the foreseeable future.
Avias’ suggestion for Oleander and Tirigan to bunk up is a logical one, but I don’t feel comfortable letting Tirigan be alone with someone else for such a long period of time. I’m sure he would argue that he could take care of himself, but I’m worried he is pushing himself too hard and fast with all of these social interactions. I think he could use a place at night where he doesn’t have to pretend, a place he can escape to. I also don’t want to offend Avias or Oleander by insisting Tirigan and I share a room. They are opening their home to us. I shouldn’t put a caveat on that.
My eyes catch Avias as he adjusts his stance, readying himself to throw another knife at the target on the tree. He extends his arm backward.
I need to figure out a way to make it so Tirigan and I sharing a room would make the most sense. If I could just come up with a good enough reason…
The knife Avias has just released into the air turns sharply, as if kicked, and barrels straight into Tirigan’s stomach.
No one moves.
I can hear the birds in the trees above us and the beat of my own heart in my ears, but everything else is a blur. The food in my hand drops to the ground as my fingers lose their strength, but still I don’t move. Oleander and Bo are stock-still beside me, but I can’t see them.
What I see is a knife sticking out of what looks like my stomach before I realize I’m seeing through Tirigan’s eyes again. I don’t feel anything, but I can hear the agony of Tirigan’s pain. It looks like Avias is rushing towards me, but I know it’s Tirigan he is running to. He catches my brother as he falls. My own vision returns to me when Tirigan hits the ground.
Tirigan is still the only thing I see. My brother falling to his knees. My brother with a knife sticking out of his stomach.
“Tirigan!” I yell as I sprint towards him, running so fast it feels like I’m flying. When I reach him, I fall to the ground next to his body. Avias has Tirigan’s head in his lap, propping him up slightly.
“What… How... What happened?” I finally get out.
Tirigan’s eyes are open, but glassy. It looks like he might be going into shock.
“I-I don’t know,” Avias replies, his voice shaking. I hear Bo and Oleander running towards us. “The knife, it was headed for the tree and then it just... turned. I didn’t do it. I swear I didn’t.”
I take Tirigan’s hand in mine and feel for his pulse. It’s strong, a steady beat that reminds me I don’t have to panic. We are half Anunnaki. We heal very quickly.
“I know,” I reply for some reason. I look up at Avias. “I didn’t think you did.”
Tirigan stares up at the sky as his face contorts in agony. Are you all right?
His thoughts are clouded with pain. I can just barely make them out. There is a knife buried in my abdomen, Charlie. I’ve been better.
I let out a shaky laugh.
“I know, I know.” I look down at the knife and see his shirt is already stained red with blood. “We have to get the knife out.” We have to get it out now, so you can start healing.
Tirigan manages a nod, and then squeezes his eyes shut in preparation for more pain.
“Wait,” Oleander cautions, putting his hand over mine. “You shouldn’t pull it out until we find a healer. You could cause more damage if you do.”
I shake my head and push his hand away. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. You’re going to have to trust me on this.”
Oleander looks dumbfounded. He tries to gain support from Avias, but Avias just shrugs helplessly, and then takes his hands and carefully place
s them on either side of Tirigan’s head. However uncomfortable Tirigan might feel from the close contact must be diminished by the blade in his gut.
“Can you find something to clean and wrap the wound?” I request of Oleander, turning back to face a horror-stricken Bo. “And some water please?” Bo doesn’t move until Oleander literally pushes her backwards, forcing her to focus. I turn back to Tirigan to see tears falling out of the corners of his eyes. Hey, it’s all right. You’re going to be all right.
Just get it out, please.
I wait until Oleander is back with a few shirts to use as bandages and a couple bottles of water before I wrap my hands around the knife handle.
“Ready?” Tirigan nods. Without giving him too much time to think about it, I pull the blade out as hard and straight as I can.
Tirigan cries out, his eyes flying open, his limbs flailing. I replace the knife with a balled-up shirt and apply pressure to the wound.
Do you remember when we were at the river and I used the water to help me heal my wrists? Tirigan doesn’t answer. His mind is nothing but screams of pain. “Come on, focus. Answer me.” Do you remember?”
Yes, I remember.
You can do it too. Concentrate on the water helping you heal. Focus on repairing what is torn inside of you. You can do this. Tirigan nods, but says nothing.
I don’t know how we are going to explain this, but right now, all I can think about is helping Tirigan. I hand one of the shirts to Oleander.
“Soak this in water.”
“What?” He looks scared, but I don’t have time for that.
“Just do it,” I command calmly.
When the shirt is dripping with water, I replace the blood soaked one with it. Okay, concentrate. Pull the water out of the shirt and into your wound.
Charlie... it hurts... I can’t. Tirigan’s face is contorted in agony, and it takes everything I have not to break down in tears at the sight.
“You can!” I encourage forcefully. “Come on. You pull. I’ll push.” Ready? Tirigan nods and screws his eyes shut once more.
I can vaguely hear a commotion behind us, but I drown the sounds out and focus only on helping Tirigan pull the water into the hole the knife had made. With my eyes closed, I imagine a scene just like the one that played out by the river. I see the water rushing into the wound and repairing as it goes. Hydrogen bonds re-forming and oxygen atoms helping to heal injured tissue that is already beginning to heal thanks to our Anunnaki blood. My hands tingle with effort.