Episode 25: Wind and Rain
The weather was steadily getting worse, but Triana only exhausted enough magic to keep them standing and walking. She couldn't feel her hand, but she could see that Gregan was still holding onto it. After an eternity, they reached the place.
Triana and Gregan barely had the strength to stumble through the door. The actor collapsed on the floor in a puddle of water, and an old woman rushed to close the door behind them. She didn't speak, but put an arm around Triana and helped her walk towards the fire. Her head felt funny and light; when the woman let go, Triana sank to the floor. She felt a blanket drop around her shoulders but didn't even have the energy to snuggle into it. She let her body stretch out on the floor and her consciousness slowly faded. All she felt was the heat and light of the fire, and time fell away from her cold, soaked body.
Gregan crawled towards the fire, and the old woman provided him with a blanket as well. He sprawled on the floor, and now that he had come to rest he didn't think he could move again. Heat was so slow in getting through to his skin...his breathing slowed, and his muscles relaxed. At last he began to lose awareness.
Some time later a shape came between Triana and the light. "Can you sit?" this form asked--the old woman she vaguely remembered.
Triana pushed herself up. She was still damp, but at least she had her shivering under control. The woman put a hot mug into her hands. "Thank you," Triana said, and coughed. Her voice sounded strange.
"I have some dry clothes you can change into," the woman said. "They're Ceto's, so they'll be a little big, but at least you won't have to be damp."
The tea in her cup was still too hot to drink, but Triana held it close to her face, letting the steam warm her. "Thank you," she said again.
Gregan was still in a pathetic state--curled up on the floor, occasionally shivering but otherwise motionless. He had curled up on his side, now, and there were two blankets wrapped around him. The woman sat down beside him.
"You should really change clothes too, you know," she whispered. Gregan moaned. "Come on, otherwise I'm going to strip you down right here and let your friend watch."
Triana would have blushed, but her cheeks were already red. She sipped her tea and suspected there was magic in it to give her energy--but the feeling might have just been its warmth in her body. "Um, where should I go to change?"
The woman took her to an empty bedroom and provided Triana with a pile of clothes. She closed the door and exchanged her soggy outfit for a dry pair of pants and a shirt. The pants were too long and a little loose, but they stayed on her hips. She tied a belt around her waist and gathered her wet things, bringing them back to the room with the fire so she could lay them out to dry.
Gregan was gone when she returned. The woman helped her lay out the clothes, and Gregan returned to the room, wrapped in a blanket and barefoot. He plopped down on the floor, folding up his legs and pulling his blanket tight around his shoulders.
"How is Cetolyn?" Triana asked. The woman was looking pointedly at Gregan, who finally noticed and spoke up.
"Sorry, Triana, this is my great-aunt Amiya. Amiya, my friend Triana." He sounded somewhat sullen, and he was still shivering. Triana would have liked to have hugged him, but was rather embarrassed at the thought.
"Please, drink your tea, get your strength back," Amiya said. "Ceto's finally fallen asleep. She wants to keep writing, even though she needs her rest, poor thing."
"How long has she been sick?" Triana asked.
"She was already worn down and sickly when she came here two weeks ago," Amiya replied. "I thought it was from traveling, pushing herself too hard to right her story. After she came here, though, she couldn't keep any food down."
"Oh." Triana knew what that meant, and that there was no cure for the disease. No...it could still be something else, but...
"She's been living on liquids," Gregan said. "It's all she can keep down. But today she started shaking, and she's too weak to walk..."
Triana nodded. "I have to admit I don't know how much I can do," she said. "If it's what it sounds like, I can probably slow the disease, but I can't stop it. No one can--not that I know of." She hated the words she was saying, especially when she looked at Gregan's face. "I wish I could...I'll do everything that I can."
"That's all we could ask of you," Amiya replied.
Triana looked to Gregan again, but he just stared at the floor. She couldn't tell if he was crying or not, but for some reason his body shook occasionally.
"May I see her now?" she asked.
"If you think you're up to it," the old lady replied.
"I think so," Triana said. "I can't just sit here and do nothing."
Amiya took her back to another room where Cetolyn lay in bed. She looked so much thinner than when Triana had first met her, and her skin was dry. The sickness must have hit her hard and fast, while the healers of Thaliron were preoccupied treating the victims of the dralion attack.
The room was small and simple-there was only a small bed and a table beside it. On that table lay a pair of glasses, a stack of paper, and a pen. Triana looked at the papers; the writing on them seemed shaky and light, as if the writer could hardly control her pen. Why would anyone force herself to write in such a condition?
"Is there anything I can do?" Amiya whispered, so not to wake her grand-niece.
Triana shook her head. "No, look after Gregan, please," she said, and Amiya nodded and left. Triana stepped towards the sick young woman, touched her arm, and breathed in deeply.
I have to cure her, she thought, holding the breath in. Never mind that it's never been done before, there has to be a way. I'm not going to let her die. She let out the breath, and fell into a healer's trance.
Poor Cetolyn's body shook, and she wrapped her arms around herself. Triana wished she knew more of healing. She knew enough of what a healthy body should be like, but a disease like this was out of her scope. She didn't even know what to look for, so she just searched for anything that looked "wrong" inside her patient.
Triana was aware of every beat of Cetolyn's heart, the sound of her muscles contracting, the rush of blood through her veins and air through her lungs. She could feel every nerve impulse, each ache, the working of every tissue. Finally she found it.
The sickness looked like fluffy balls of yellow-green light that hid in the corners of her body. They felt vicious, and when she prodded one, it shocked her back, leaving her entire body stinging.
Frustrated, Triana wiped tears from her eyes and returned to her trance. This disease wasn't going to beat her that easily.
*
Amercy felt the storm getting stronger, but he did not fear for himself. He would hold the walls of the hospital; that was more important than his own life.
No one had expected a hurricane to follow so soon after the previous disaster, and the places that housed the sick were ill-equipped to handle the wind and rain. Magic was all that kept them standing, and this little hospital was depending on Amercy to defend it.
He wouldn't let them down. He couldn't help but blame himself for the dralions, since his power had gone into their creation, and felt like he could never completely atone for his part in this destruction.
All his attention went into the building and the storm--if his mind wavered, he could lose everything. He couldn't even afford to think of his own guilt. Everything was holding, supporting, strengthening--he couldn't afford to think of his own weakness when his duty was to be strong. He couldn't even cry.
Why did Re take it upon himself to instill some hope into this poor boy? Amercy was too young to be so sad, and needed someone to take care of him, to like him for who he was. With time, Amercy would grow up to forgive himself. The sadness that absorbed him now would be like the fading memory of a nightmare.
Without saying anything, Re took the boy's hand, allowing his strength to flow into him and hold the barrier around the building. Wordless but understanding, they waited out the storm.