Now It Will Be Fine

       Onni sits on his bed, all energy spent to fight the anxiety. Tuuri chirps like a bird and dances around their home in Keuruu, and stuffs random items into her bag. How can she be so blind, so careless, so… so childish? He feels an urge to inform her that it’s all garbage, and instead of pillows or leaky pots she should take toothbrush, warm clothes, first aid kit, and so on. But it would mean he supports her decision to go. And he does not. What can he do, though? All his arguments have been falling on deaf ears after that cursed letter from Taru Hollola. So, Onni watches in silence as Tuuri picks some shabby rag, or a roll of ribbons, or a jar of pickles from the cellar. Its trapdoor claps and startles him. Soon the bag is ready to burst but Tuuri still is fussing around without visible purpose, and ends up jumping at her brother and hugging him really hard. He swallows. She did that a lot when… when they just moved to Keuruu, and less so over years as she grew more stubborn and bold, more of her own rather than his little sister. Children do grow, people say. There’s nothing you can do about it. But after that damned letter with a job offer Tuuri has been dealing enthusiastic hugs in abundance again. Lalli does not appreciate. Onni… not really. No matter how much he misses that closeness, he realizes it will turn into vast physical distance very soon. Or maybe even a metaphysical abyss—the world is a cruel place for anyone, the more so for an inexperienced, non-immune, non-military girl. Onni wants to hold her and never let her go, but she’d be off running and squeaking with excitement before he can do anything. There she goes, to the mudroom and back, flopping down at his side again, leaning to his shoulder, looking up at him with kitty eyes. Oh, that look. Onni knows it means just another request but can’t resist stroking her on the short-cropped nape. Without braids or ponytail, it feels like a whitecoat skin. “I’m so excited!” she beams at him. “Can’t sleep at all, and we should go to the pier in… in six hours already, but if I’m tired I’ll doze off tomorrow on the boat and would certainly miss all the cool things around! Must have some sleep now. Could you sing me a lullaby, like when I was little?” Something breaks inside Onni’s heart, jars his memory with ragged edges. Like when I was little… Like when she curled into a ball under his arm in a shelter on a tiny island and cried while he was gripping their grandma’s rifle, on the verge of tears himself, recollecting frantically any barrier spells. Or later, in a tiny cabin of the military housing, when she’d crawl onto his cot to hide from bad dreams, and he could just hold her and breathe more or less evenly, torn between fatigue from all work, training and piles of chores and terror that the kids would be taken away if he was not good enough. He’d sing a lullaby spell to bring her to sleep and give a sob or two without upsetting her. Memory washes over him. No, it never has been past, really. Desperate, scared and tired, over and over again—is it all he’s meant to be even now, when he is an adult, a mage, one of the strongest mages in Keuruu, actually. But in some hours Tuuri will go away, no matter how old or strong he is, and there’s nothing he can— Something snaps into place in Onni Hotakainen’s head, sends hot bolts through the brain and nerves. No. There is still something he can do. And so, he sings. *** He is not surprised to hear knocks on the door in the evening on the same day. He is not alarmed to see the secretary of defences department and the chief skald, Tuuri’s superior. He is not dismayed to hear that the morning boat to Pori has been attacked by a water giant near Tampere exclusion area, and patrol boats have gotten there in time just to confirm no one survived. Onni is just too damn tired. “I know” is all he musters strength to say but it’s enough. What else do they need to hear? They know he is very perceptive of spirits. They know how much he cares for his family and how hard he has tried to protect them. They know Tuuri has boarded that boat with Lalli—the ticket office has records of all passengers’ names. And Tuuri was telling about her future journey to everyone as soon as she knew the dates. The officers don’t need to tell or ask anything else for now. “Hotakainen,” the defence officer still has something to say. His tone is measured and void, face strained to keep composure. “You may take some shifts off, I’ll arrange for substitution. Would you…” he stumbles at last, and the skald interferes, her voice low with subsided tremble. “Would you guide their souls yourself, or—” Onni looks square at her, and she shuts up. “No need to,” he breathes out. This thread of conversation must be cut. “I’ve done all I can. They are safe now”. The messengers exchange glances and leave at last. Onni closes the door and presses his forehead to its cool wooden texture. Some shifts off will be great. He could’ve slept for two days in row, but he does not have that time. Five or six hours maybe, but he can do with it. There’s nothing he can’t do. Searching for a water giant through dreamspace from a hundred kilometres away or nudging it out into the path of ships is not a big deal. Making Vellamo look away from a boat under her divine protection while it’s attacked is harder by orders of magnitude. He was out cold all afternoon and barely made it awake when an alarm spell cast on the house porch tugged at his mind. But now no one of the boat crew or passengers, especially Taru Hollola, will tell that Hotakainens have not actually boarded it. And Hollola should have known better than to attempt taking his family away. …She refused to leave without his siblings and was ready to go and look for them, so Onni had to apply a confusion runo to stop her. By the third or fourth line she realized what was going on but managed just an indignant “What..?” before her eyes went blank, and her legs walked her onboard. And before that, Onni had to summon a low-key night blizzard to sweep up traces in the snow and hide his moves between his home, pier, scouts’ cabins, warehouses and salvage yard from any chance witnesses. No one should know he was coursing through the settlement alone. Mostly. Carrying a certain thin and lightweight person from scouts’ cabins over a shoulder does not really count for a company… Quite a taxing night and day it has been. All stationary spells anchored to him do not make things easier, too. Some old perimeter monitoring and repelling barriers around the settlement, some new ones. He must check them before collapsing back. Onni scans the outdoors to make sure the officers are really away, then staggers to the cellar trapdoor. Attention-diverting spell, check. Sound barrier, check. Trespassing alarm for entry and exit, check. Bolt bar and hinges, intact. Ladder down, fine. Metal bar partitions seem fine for something he has scrambled together on short notice last night. Tuuri is awake. Unlike Lalli, she is not a mage and is not accustomed to staying unconscious for days; Onni had to release her mind and temper when the containment was ready. Since then, she’s been through with angry shouting and shaking the bars; they withstand. She’s been through with accusing her brother of ruining her life; he withstands. He was used to her “I hate you!” since her childhood when he’d drag her away from boats and tell on her schemes to mom and dad. She is through with pleas and kitty eyes; he withstands, but barely. He reminds himself that she will never understand the danger. Tuuri is not a mage, she does not hear the voices of trolls threatening to kill everyone or pleading to kill them, an incessant reminder of what the Rash virus does to non-immunes! Tuuri is not a mage, she did not see the souls of her mom and dad leave this world by the Birds' Path, saying the last words of love to their son, asking him to take care of his sister. And he vowed he would. Even at twenty, Tuuri is still the same silly little girl to be dragged by the hand to safety. That’s something he can do. At least she has eaten the porridge, bread and cranberry drink left to her, and that’s good. Right now Onni does not have spare power to force-feed her. Later, if she resorts to a hunger strike, he will. Lalli is still asleep, exhausted after scouting, under effect of the same runo as used on Tuuri, and under sedatives. Synthetic Swedish sleeping pills are more effective than any herbs. Onni has some use of them recently for himself. Maybe it would not have been necessary to keep Lalli locked too. He is immune and not as eager to venture outside. He is not as much trouble as Tuuri. Usually he does what he’s said to do, and if Onni tells him to stay put and have rest, Lalli will obey. But Tuuri can influence her cousin just as well, and tell him to do any sort of stupidity like travelling to the Silent World. Or like breaking out. So, Lalli must stay sleeping while she’s awake. And Onni’s dream barrier around both their Havens will keep any dreamsea monsters at bay. Onni is tired of worrying stiff every time Lalli is out scouting, and can’t relax even when silent presence of his cousin brushes past settlement barriers back home. Only seeing Lalli sleeping safely in his Haven does the thing. There’s no immunity against claws and fangs and tons of hungry beast flesh, and each year the graveyard under outer wall of Keuruu gets new stones with scouts’ names. Sometimes Onni performs funeral rites for hunters and scouts with just a full name and something of the personal belongings instead of a body. He does the task properly but freezes with terror thinking it can be Lalli next time. Now there won’t be a next time. Sure, it is reasonable that any surviving humans shall contribute to survival of the others with skills and knowledge, and even life. But Onni does not not want to pay with his siblings, and public good may go to Hiisi’s den! Tuuri is sulking and not looking at her brother. That’s fine. With her legs pulled to the chest, she seems so small again that Onni can’t help but smile in endearment. He unlocks the other half of cellar to check on Lalli. The little cousin is sleeping deep, pulse barely felt. That’s fine. That’s just as it should be. For the first time Lalli does not squirm out of cousin’s touch, and Onni can keep him close for a minute, or two, or as long as he needs to make sure his siblings are by his side, safe and sound, now and forever. He sighs with relief. Fear and helplessness fade for the first time in many years since little Lalli has run to the boat house, clutching at Grandma’s rifle, and reported Code 0. Despite enormous weariness, it feels like wings — and Onni knows what it’s like to have wings. There is nothing he can’t do to save his family.