Spero's Arc

Chapter 4 of 10

By the second day south, Valeria's leg gave out. The old wound had reopened on the road. Now the skin around it burned red and swollen. She leaned on a broken fence post and tried to walk anyway. She made it three steps before her knee buckled. Spero caught her before she hit the dirt. "I'm fine," she said. Her voice was tight. Sweat ran down her jaw. "You're not." He eased her down against the post. The wound smelled wrong. He had no salve, no clean cloth, no coin for a healer. They were half a day from anywhere. "We can't move you like this." "Then leave me. Go get the report." "No." He knelt beside her leg. His hands shook. He had a power he almost never used. Making things drew eyes, and eyes drew people like Ramiro. But there was no one here to see. Only Valeria, who knew everything now. He pressed his palms together and pictured what he needed. Clean linen. A jar of salve. A needle threaded with silk. His hands grew warm. The air between them thickened. A strip of white cloth formed in his fingers, then frayed apart. He tried again. His breath came fast. "Spero." Valeria watched him. "You don't have to." "Yes I do." He focused harder. This time the cloth held. Then a small clay jar. Then the needle. Each thing cost him. His vision swam. He cleaned the wound, spread the salve, and stitched the torn edge shut with hands that would barely obey. Valeria hissed but held still. She trusted him now. She let him work. When the last stitch closed, the world tilted. Spero slumped sideways into the grass. His arms felt like water. He could not lift his head. "Idiot." Valeria's hand found his shoulder. Her voice cracked halfway between anger and something softer. "You gave it all away for me." "Worth it," he mumbled. She tested her leg. The swelling had eased. She could stand. She could walk. She stared at the boy who had spent himself to make it so. By dusk her strength was back. Spero still could not rise. So Valeria crouched, hauled him onto her back, and stood without a grunt. "You carried the fawn," she said. "I can carry you." She walked through the night. His cheek rested against her shoulder. He drifted in and out. Near dawn she stopped. Ahead, a tower of gray stone rose from the weeds. Its top had crumbled. Broken timbers stuck out like snapped bones. This was the place from the sealed report. The abandoned watchtower. Valeria set him down against the cold wall. "We made it," she whispered. "Both of us." Spero opened his eyes. Inside those broken walls waited the answer about his sister. He was too weak to climb the stairs. But for the first time, he was not too weak to trust someone else to help him up.