53. Recovery

  Mai Mai was woken by the screaming. She clenched, waiting for it to stop, as she knew that it would. And it did, a moment later.

  Her husband—they had had a quiet ceremony a few days ago presided over by Di Phon, with only family and the Peach Blossoms attending—was still tormented by the injuries he had suffered during the battle for Atla. Little Bug had not been physically wounded, but whatever he had done to bring the sun back, and whatever he had done to turn back time, both of those actions had had a profound cost.

  Atla was less affected, thankfully, and the boy-eidolon appeared next to her as she sat up and began preparing for the tea ritual. He hadn’t asked, but whenever he woke screaming she had decided that she would serve him tea. It was the one thing that she was good at, and the one thing that she could do for him during this time of trial. So it was what she would do.

  “He’s not getting better,” Atla complained.

  “Yes he is,” Mai Mai assured the nervous world. “The corruption is receding day by day.”

  “It is, but it’s also not,” Atla said, shaking his head. “It’s receding, but his body is concentrating it into one place, above his heart. I don’t think he’ll actually be able to get rid of it, just—”

  The boy stopped talking. Mai Mai patted him on the shoulder and continued her ritual of making tea.

  “He knows what he’s about, Atla. If he says that he can purify it then he can purify it,” she assured him. She had perfect confidence in her voice. She did not have perfect confidence in her words.

  She found him in the bed where they had consummated the marriage. They did not sleep together afterwards because he had confessed that it was a strain to contain his power, presence, and the corruption in his body while he slept, so she had volunteered to sleep in another room on the small plantation.

  But close enough to hear when he woke up screaming.

  He was not the only one injured by the battle that never happened, and he was healing. But perhaps his decision to remain on the plantation was for the best, for now.

  She found him sitting in his bed, his hair, which he was growing out for her, was streaming about his face. She walked in, sat the tray with her instruments on the ground, and kowtowed to him.

  “I wish that wasn’t part of the ritual,” he muttered.

  “It is so shut up,” she said stubbornly, as they’ve had this conversation before.

  He sighed and allowed her to proceed with the intricate ceremony. When she put the cup in his hands, he quaffed it quickly rather than savoring it.

  “Another please,” he said, and she poured him another.

  He drank that one more slowly. He stood, his nightclothes sticking to his sweaty body, and walked over to the window to look at the stars. “Atla, what are they saying about me now? Do they know I’m alive, or is the rumor that I died taking hold?”

  “Why?” Atla asked.

  “Because I’m debating whether or not to go back,” Little Bug confessed. “Whether it wouldn’t be better if the Worldfather died protecting his people. If I let the legend of Little Bug end like that.”

  “You can’t!” he protested.

  “Why not? Why can’t I? I have given everything and you still ask for more?” Little Bug shouted, throwing his cup. The power radiated off of him, and Mai Mai took a hasty step back, her hand covering her belly.

  Little Bug abruptly reeled himself in, taking himself in control in under a second. “Sorry,” he said.

  “No harm?” she asked, turning to Atla.

  “The baby is fine,” Atla assured him. “She’s tough. It will take more than that to hurt her.”

  “I’m sorry,” Little Bug repeated. Then he sat on the bed and began to cry.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Atla looked terrified, but Mai Mai just sat down next to him and gave him her shoulder. They sat like that until the sun came up, and then Little Bug went back to sleep.

  It had been six days since the battle.

  ~~~~~~~

  “That’s an old blade,” Little Bug said when Di Ram came to visit. The man nodded.

  “They found it. I don’t know how it survived the … whatever you did,” Di Ram said as he sat at the table. “It killed the man whose daughter found it.”

  “And yet you wear it,” Little Bug said. “You know what it costs to draw it?”

  “Do you?”

  “All too well. I was there when it was forged,” Little Bug answered. “I would see it unmade.”

  “I will not discard a tool like this when it could be used for good in the future,” Di Ram argued.

  “Even knowing that it holds in torment a soul of an innocent? That is where it’s power comes from, and why it demands such a high price to draw,” Little Bug said.

  “What would it cost me to draw? My arm? My leg? My life?” Di Ram demanded.

  “Perhaps it would cost you what ever it was you were trying to save,” Little Bug answered. “Would it be worth it then? To destroy your enemy but lose your humanity?”

  Di Ram was silent for a moment. Mai Mai was preparing tea, and nobody spoke as she quietly worked.

  “I will only draw it in the hour of no hope,” He declared. “When all other light fades, when there are no other options, when the darkness is complete and the situation can grow no worse.”

  “There is one rule I wish you to understand, Di Ram,” Little Bug said. “Things can always get worse.”

  Di Ram nodded. “Then I shall never draw the blade. But I will still wear it at my side.”

  “I have warned you,” Little bug said.

  And they sat in silence for a moment, drinking Tea.

  “The tournament,” Di Ram said at last. “It has been on hold. Tonilla asks if you—”

  “Cancel it. Send the people home. Maybe in ten years we can try again,” Little Bug declared. “But not this year. The wards are shattered beyond repair, and we’ll have to build a new coliseum to recreate them. And I do not have it in me to do that right now.”

  Di Ram nodded. “I will pass on the message,” He promised.

  “How are you doing, Di Ram? Coming back from the dead is never easy,” Little Bug asked.

  “I had accepted my death. I had felt as things had begun to be stripped away from me, one by one. My memories fading … I do not know. I cannot think of that time clearly, nor see what lies on the other side of the river,” Di Ram admitted.

  “I encourage you not to spend too much time worrying about it,” Little Bug said. “It’s not worth the effort. You’ll see it again, one day, and have your questions answered then. Until then, enjoy this brief summer before the snows return.”

  Di Ram nodded. “I suppose you’re correct,” he said. He sighed. “When will you return? The people are anxious, even after we made the announcement that you had only exhausted your strength with your latest miracle and were recuperating.”

  “I apologize for vanishing without telling anyone,” Little Bug said. He sighed. “I believe the visible signs of my corruption will fade in a week. Given the way people view me, I think that it’s best to wait at least that long. It might take me years, or decades, to completely purify the curse of that dagger. But once these black veins have faded, I’ll make a public appearance to put to bed the rumors that I sacrificed my life in the battle.”

  “Are you confident that you’re up to it?” Di Ram asked. “Tonilla will want to schedule it as soon as you are.”

  “Yes,” Little Bug said. “Next week. And there is something else I need from Tonilla.”

  “What is that?”

  “I need her to visit Duke Valan for me, and to secure his help in the defense of this dimension, if she can,” Little Bug said.

  Di Ram nodded. “Okay,” He said, and they spoke of other matters for a while.

  Then, when the consequential matters had been resolved and the inconsequential matters had been addressed, they sat in companionable silence for a while before finally parting ways.

  Mai Mai cleaned up the tea, gave him a kiss, and stepped out to make her rounds through the plantation.

  Once he was alone, Little bug grasped his heart and coughed up blood. Atla appeared swiftly, but there was nothing for him to do but help his father into bed, where he slept restlessly for three hours.

  Sixteen days had passed since the battle.

  ?