Chapter 2 Phaea
“As certain as stone” - Galaean Proverb.
Phaea blinked once, twice, and then rubbed her eyes followed by a few more blinks for good measure. She had never seen purple eyes before. They suited him–felt right on him… which only made the whole situation tug at her mind more. Maybe she was imagining it? Maybe she was still dreaming? No. She was awake. The sharp pain from pinching the skin of her left thigh confirmed that much.
Aster had purple eyes now.
Phaea’s eyes narrowed in further confusion. Purple eyes weren’t the only change to her brother. Aster was leaning into the doorframe with one shaking arm. His face was pale and for a fleeting moment she worried he was about to throw up.
“I just finished cleaning the courtyard,” she thought. “If he’s going to throw up he better do it in his own forsaken room.”
Yesterday, she teased him about needing to bulk up. Now, as she looked at him more carefully, her mouth fell open even wider than before. There was muscle on his unsteady frame. It wasn’t much, and he was still about as lean as a malnourished dog, but he had some actual muscle. It was impossible to develop that overnight. At least, it should have been.
Phaea slowly closed her mouth before half formed thoughts escaped it. Waiting for Aster to actually answer her question, she took a deep calming breath while she rubbed her temples. As her head spun from trying to understand what she was seeing, Aster spun toward the floor like a freshly felled tree.
“Oh!” Phaea rushed to him without hesitation. She was fast, but her bounding sprint couldn’t make it to him in time to catch him.
She bit at her lip. Was he unconscious? Or… was he dead? Her heart pounded; her body moving at only fractions of the speed her mind was racing at. Oh, she would kill him five more times if he was dead.
“Broken cycles, Aster! Aster, wake up!” Shaking him didn’t seem to work.
“Please? You’re scaring me…” Fear crept into her voice like the traitor that it was. She felt for a pulse like her mother had taught her, sighing in relief when the beating rhythm of life danced on her fingertips. Combing her fingers through his hair where his head had thudded against the floor, she let out a breath she hadn’t noticed holding when she found no blood. That was a pleasant surprise; he had done exactly the opposite of breaking his fall like she’d taught him to.
She carried Aster back into his room and dropped him somewhat unceremoniously back onto his bed.
“Heavens only know what Mother and Father will make of this,” she muttered under her breath. She paced anxiously around the small central courtyard of the family home. The calming scent of the daisies and orchids her mother kept did little to alleviate her concern. She gazed at Aster’s room for a long moment, chewing on her lip as brows knit themselves together.
“You better be okay…” she muttered under her breath in impotent frustration before she rushed out the door to find Nysa and Haemon.
Phaea’s feet sent clouds of dirt into the air as she ran fast enough down the hill from their home that it was more like a controlled fall.
“Phaea? What’s the matter, girl?” The neighborly concern from Terod, one of the oldest men in Karipos and a member of the village council, was all but deafened by the rhythmic pounding that circulated her head as her heart raced her feet.
Phaea ignored him, unspoken words dying on her tongue as she sprinted past. Terod meant well, certainly, but any time spent explaining the situation to him was time not spent finding her mother, who just so happened to be one of the most talented healers in Karipos.
There were two small hills within the palisade perimeter of the village, and Phaea’s family lived in a position of honor near the base of the old temple, the crowning jewel of the northern hill and taller of the two. At the base of the hills, as if cradled between two hands of Galae himself, was the house of healing.
“Mother?” Phaea shouted as she entered, disturbing its usual quiet serenity. “Mother! Something is wrong with Aster!”
“Woah there, what’s the matter?” Caireus asked. He was the other healer of the village, and turned from the shelf he was about to place a basket on top of, lowering it back to chest level instead. Uncle Caireus, as she and Aster called him despite not being true kin, was a kind man with deep set smile lines around tired brown eyes despite only being thirty nine.
“Aster’s hurt, I think. He fainted, and …” Phaea bit at her lip, looking for the right words. “Where’s my Mother?”
“She just stepped out to find the perfect present for him to celebrate his Poroneía, so she’ll be somewhere in the mark–”
“Okay, thanks!” Phaea dipped back through the doorway nearly as fast as she had burst in. Caireus would not have hesitated to run up the hill and check on Aster himself, but her parents had always been … protective of Aster.
Her father’s words tickled at her mind as she scanned the market stalls. “Your mother has always seen something in Aster that I haven’t been able to,” he had once confided, “but if I’ve managed to get any lesson to stick in this skull of mine, it is to always trust her.”
Her mother would know what to do. She would be able to make sense of what had happened to him. Phaea ran through the market, frustration etching itself across her face as each stall revealed no sign of Nysa. Phaea’s fingers were laced atop her head as she recovered the air in her lungs she’d need to ask around.
Moments before she stormed up to Dureos, a vendor of the sort of baubles that Aster would probably enjoy, she spotted her mother walking out of the blacksmith’s building. “Mother!”
Phaea closed the distance quickly, while Nysa adjusted her grip on a large bronze shield that weighed down both of her arms. “What is wrong, my little moon?” Nysa’s accented voice flowed over Phaea like water smoothing even the most stubborn stone.
“I don’t know. Aster fainted. His eyes are purple now. He—”
“His eyes changed? You are certain?”
“As certain as stone!”
Nysa held the shield out to Phaea, looking to the blue sky as her brows knit in thought. “Hold this for me, and find your father. I’ll go straight to the house.” At Phaea’s look of concern, she added, “Aster will be just fine, love.”
Phaea slid the shield onto one muscled arm as she leaned down to allow her mother a brief kiss to her forehead. Without any further need for words, Nysa hurried towards Temple Hill while Phaea turned toward the main gate of the village.
She no longer needed to run through the village, but her purposeful stride still warded off casual inquiry. Her father was most likely either at the training yard, or in the watchtower he spent so much time in that the other wardens had come to jokingly refer to it as Haemon’s Vigil.
Utterly shocking to all who knew him, Haemon’s favorite watchtower just so happened to be the one that overlooked both the main village gate and the training yard that unfolded below it like fields beneath a scarecrow.
As Phaea crossed back between the twin hills and approached the eastern gate, she squinted at the watchtower, silhouetted against rays of morning light. She could see two men standing in it, but couldn’t make out details even with a hand raised to shield against the sunlight. She heard the training yard before it came into view.
The dull thwacking of wood clashing with wood was interspersed with enthusiastic instruction from a chorus of voices.
“That’s it, Yuthios!”
“Keep your distance!”
“Don’t let him close!”
Phaea rounded the final house in between her and the training yard, one cheek tugging into an empathetic smile when Yuthios had his legs swept out from under him by a well placed swipe from Leron’s training spear.
“Oooh!”
The collective wince from the small crowd accompanied Yuthios struggling to refill his lungs with air as he lay sprawled in the dirt.
“You alright there, Yuthy?” Phaea’s warm voice held the hint of a laugh in it as she called out to the defeated man. Yuthios was one of the newest wardens, and was around Aster’s age.
Leron, a middle aged warden with long hair that he kept tied out of his face, leaned on his spear like a walking stick while reaching out his free hand to help the young warden back to his feet. Six other wardens were relaxing against the fence of the training yard, some sporting their own bruises.
“Phaea! Have you come to batter around my recruits again?” Amrios, the oldest among the wardens, stepped forward to greet her eagerly.
They clasped wrists as Phaea nodded toward Yuthios with a raised eyebrow. “It looks like dear Yuthy is getting plenty of lessons in without me getting involved.”
Yuthios dusted himself off after having been helped back to his feet and chimed in, “I could go another couple rounds!” After a questioning look from Phaea he gulped and added, “Probably.”
Amrios chuckled heartily and said, “perhaps little Phaea is here for some real instruction by more experienced hands?”
“No time for fun, I’m afraid. I’m here for my father.” She gave a quick wave to the other wardens as she continued to walk toward the watchtower. “Carry on, boys!”
“Will we see you at the tavern tonight?” Leron called out.
Phaea spun without breaking her stride. “Not tonight, it’s Aster’s Poroneía!” She didn’t miss several sets of rolling eyes at the mention. She turned again, looking up at the watchtower. Her father seemed to be deep in conversation with another of the younger wardens, Tokites.
She approached and leaned the shield against the tower before climbing the well worn ladder, rungs polished from years of use. As her head crested the platform of the watchtower, she was met with a curious look from her father and impatience from Tokites.
“Phaea, what is it?” Haemon asked.
Phaea’s eyes darted to Tokites before settling back on Haemon. “It’s … uh, Aster. He passed out.”
Tokites stifled a laugh, while Haemon released a heavy sigh. He met her eyes, and prompted, “Nysa?”
“Mother is on her way to see him already, she sent me to let you know.”
“Very well, I’m sure everything will be fine, then.” Haemon turned back to Tokites. Haemon was a large man, and stood nearly two heads taller than the younger warden who, himself, was of fairly average height.
Phaea took after her father, standing taller than most men in Karipos. She shared his broad shoulders and muscled frame. She’d have a place in the wardens in a heartbeat if she wanted it. Aster, however, would not.
Her mind briefly flashed back to a memory of playing a dumb children’s game. She had always been picked right away for a team, while Aster would stand there, staring at his feet as he’d kick pebbles around in the dirt. Small and scrawny for his age, he’d wait with wet eyes, often only being picked for a team at her insistence.
“I want patrols doubled until we can make contact with them,” Haemon said, clearly addressing Tokites. The other warden nodded, a troubled look shadowing his face. Haemon glanced back at Phaea. “I’m suspending hunts until further notice, as well. You and your brother will have to postpone your next trip into the valley.”
“What? Why?” Phaea stammered.
Haemon rubbed one hand across his forehead, his thumb pressed into his temple. “We have reports of strangers in the valley, but haven’t been able to confirm them, or make contact. We have to assume it isn’t safe until we get this figured out.”
“I’ll make sure to pass along the orders then, sir.”
Haemon nodded his dismissal, and Tokites went for the ladder, eyes lingering on Phaea as he left the watchtower.
“Is there something else, girl?”
Phaea continued in a hushed voice. “Whatever happened to Aster isn’t normal, father. He suddenly has more muscle, but looked like he could barely stand. His eyes turned purple, and—”
Haemon put one of his large and heavy hands on her shoulder. “Purple?”
“Yeah, I don’t–”
“Blight it all, now of all times … come, we’re going home.” Haemon climbed onto the ladder and slid down it. Phaea scrambled to keep up.
Amrios threw her father a questioning look as she and Haemon departed at a brisk pace. Haemon waved to him, calling out “you’re going to have to be in charge of the watch for the rest of the day, too!”
“But–” Amrios began.
“It is time for my son’s Path Day!” Haemon called over his shoulder without looking back.