How could an Alisian be so noble, so kind? How could he pluck the words from her deepest fantasies and lay them at her feet? When she forced herself to hate the general now, it felt empty and hollow, like a feeling she was trying to force. True, he was power-hungry, but he wasn’t heartless. He saw the error of his ways. He gave up pursuing goals that would hurt another. He didn’t let his pride prevent him from admitting defeat when practical.
Rea felt a tear at the edge of her eyes. She wiped it away immediately. What was wrong with her? Was she actually admiring the general?
“Ugh…” The general coughed. It would be the first of many coughs that night. His eyes jerked open and drew closed, again and again. He was in pain. She could sense that. But she couldn’t do a thing to help him.
Bright color bled into the ink blue sky. Morning came after the long torturous night, but general didn’t open his eyes. If anything, he looked sicker. And for one precarious, terrifying moment Rea feared she would lose him.
Crua Valley was one large carpet of yellow grass during the summer though at that very moment, Rea wasn’t in the frame of mind to admire the grass growing on the hills.
Her clothes and the heels of her palms were smeared with dirt from all the times she fell or slipped while trekking up the hill. Her stomach growled and tension stabbed the inside of her head.
She’d set out early in the morning and labored her way to the hills. Once there, she descended into the valley where the herbs she needed to make the general’s medicine grew. Despite doing her best, driving herself at a punishing pace without even caring for the sweat that soaked her clothes or the harsh sun beating on her head, Rea knew she wouldn’t make it back to the general until afternoon.
Ferosia was a long way on foot from Crua Valley. Who knew how much closer to death the general would’ve slipped by then? She’d left him all alone in her furnace of a room with only her prayers to keep him company. Every delay and every detour she took shortened his life. Without the medicine, she didn’t peg his chances of survival very high.
She skipped down a ledge to a patch where red flowers bobbed their shiny heads amidst stalks of dried grass. Hidden under the flowers were bunches of white flowers the size of needle heads. White seed flowers. Rea roughly yanked a few bunches from the ground, caring little when blades of grass cut her hand.
Her lower back began to complain. Stretching a little, she chanced a backward glance hoping to see the reconstruction of her home that the general had promised. Instead she saw tents. An entire bunch of them. Green tents. Suveri tents.
Her family was there. Tears welled in her eyes. She could return home. She didn’t have to linger in this unfamiliar place alone for another season. Like a bird freed from its cage, she dashed to the encampment, her legs negotiating the distance at a frantic speed. Hope brimmed in her heart.
Her time had come. She was going home. She was going away. As she neared the tents, she saw smoke rising, heard jolly chatter in a familiar language. A child peeked out from behind the tent, and on seeing her waved at her enthusiastically.
Rea stepped over the threshold. Some of the Suveri were dismantling their tents, collecting their belongings and stuffing them into colorful hand-woven satchels.
It was as though someone had dropped a boulder on her heart, popped all her joy with a sharp needle. The group was leaving. Likely, today would be their last day in the valley. How long had they stayed there? How had she not known about it? How could she have been so stupid to shutter herself away in a pathetic little box in the capital without bothering to return to the valley? How could she have missed them?
“Rea?” An old lady doddered toward her.
“Mama Yurel.” Rea forgot herself completely. Dropping her basket, she leapt into the older woman’s arms. The arms lovingly embraced her. Family. Tribe. They were always there for her. Many years ago, as a young girl, she’d traveled with Mama Yurel. The old lady was a mentor to her, a grandmother in all but name.
“You’ve become so beautiful. Such nice hair,” said the woman stroking her hair. “It’s a miracle to meet you again. Tell me, how is your baba?”
“He…has returned to the gods.”
“Ah. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s been over a year.”
“And all this time, you’ve lived alone?”
“I had no other choice. No mitma visited the valley during that time.”
“This land has become hostile to us,” said Mama Yurel, serious. “I doubt we’ll visit Crua Valley as regularly as we used to in the past.”
“I’m overjoyed to be reunited with you,” said Rea.
“And so am I.” The old woman caressed Rea’s hair once again. “Though your eyes look heavy, shadowed by great sadness. It worries me to see you so deeply unhappy.”
“The winter was harsh,” said Rea.
“But it’s summer now and there’s no reason to hold onto the sorrow of a season gone. Will you travel with us from today onward? We’d be glad to have you.”
“It would be a joy—” Reality intruded. “But I must decline.”
She couldn’t go. Sebestyén was ill. If she deserted him, he’d die. She didn’t need his death on her conscience. But even if he lived, she’d still be alone. Once he awoke, he’d forget her, and they’d drift apart as they were fated to. Nothing could ever exist between them. She’d return to her newly built home in the valley. He’d return to his duties and battles. And then what?
Another winter of solitude? How many of those would it take before another group came along? How would she endure that long? Rea wanted to weep.
“How long will you stay?” she asked. “Will you come back next year?”
“We depart tonight. And no, we don’t plan to return next year.”
Disappointment stung. She’d been so close to freedom, so close to reuniting. But it appeared that the gods had other plans for her. “I wish you well on your journey, then. I pray you remain safe and protected from any calamities.”
Mama Yurel squinted at Rea. “Pardon me for asking, but is there any reason you must stay here? There’s no other Suveri in the valley.”
“I owe a debt to someone,” she replied.
“One you can’t pay by today?”
She shook her head.
“Promises must be honored,” Mama Yurel agreed. “And though it’s a difficult decision, rest easy in the knowledge that you make the right choice. Your ancestors would be proud.”
“Thank you. I hope we meet again someday.”
“We will,” said the older woman. “And when we do, I hope to find you happier than you are now.”
Sebestyén
The bitter taste was still stuck to his tongue when Sebestyén opened his eyes. He was vaguely aware of a juice sliding down his throat for the past few hours at regular intervals, but in his sleep, he’d neglected to take note of its taste. Now he wanted to cleanse his mouth badly.
“Water,” he demanded.
The bundle of clothes beside him twitched.
“Thank goodness.” Red-eyed and smeared with dirt, Rea shot up.
Tears—he was sure they were tears—stagnated in her eyes, which disturbed him, especially since he didn’t have the foggiest idea why she would be crying. Was it his fault? He surveyed his surroundings. Cracked, chipped walls boxed in him on four sides, crowned by a ceiling covered with thick cobwebs. Fire burned in a lantern at his side and the hardness under him signaled that it was no luxurious mattress he was lying on. Still in her room, then.