The Healer's Legacy

by Sharon Skinner

  “Can you not see that I love you? That I would never hurt you the way that he did?”

  Strong emotions tore at her, buffeting her back and forth. It took all her strength not to fall into his arms. But her path lay elsewhere. “You don’t understand. As much as I wish for it, as much as I would that it were otherwise, I cannot stay.”

  “Cannot or will not?”

  “I must know who I am,” Kira said.

  “I can tell you that. You are Kira. Hunter, healer, and the woman who holds my heart.” The yearning in his voice was a caressing wind, but Kira still stung with guilt and sorrow.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “but—”

  “But you will not stay.” He spat the words as if they tasted of bitterroot.

  “I need to know who my mother’s people are. Why she never told me about them.”

  “And then?” he asked, a hopeful timbre in his words.

  “And then . . .” Kira paused. There was nothing she would not promise him, if only she knew she could keep her word. But she did not have Heresta’s gift of sight, and she had no idea what the future held. “I don’t know,” she said finally.

  Milos turned away from her. He looked out over the fields, his gaze locked on something far away. Suddenly he rounded on her. “Then go, if you must,” he said, his voice deep and harsh. “The sooner, the better,” he added before storming off.

  Kira watched him march away, his shoulders rigid. Then he climbed down the ladder and disappeared from view. She waited as he reappeared and strode across the yard, his boots beating against the ground. As he vanished into the hold, she clutched at the medallion, squeezing it in her fist, as if she could wring the sorrow out of it. She had a powerful urge to rip it from its chain and heave it into the gloom. But she held on, leaning against the wall and letting the sadness drain out of her in aching billows.

  By the time she felt the familiar pull of Kelmir’s mind, she was spent. The gate watch had grown used to opening the gate for her and allowing Kelmir to enter the hold after his nightly forays into the woods. The watch usually greeted Kira and spoke with her for a few moments, but tonight he watched in silence as the big cat stepped lightly in through the gate. Kira was grateful. She knew the man must have heard her argument with Milos, but he acted as if he had heard nothing.

  Kelmir’s mind nudged hers, seeking to understand her mood. Kira placed a hand on the big cat’s head and rubbed his ears. She searched for thoughts that could convey the nature of her uncertainty and pain to him. If she could find a way to communicate her feelings to Kelmir, she might come to understand them herself. But she could find no words to explain the confusion of whirling emotions that swept across her heart.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  The kitchen door hung open to let in the cool spring breeze and with it the chattering of birdsong. Kira sat at the table as Brilissa fussed. “I don’t know why you have to leave so soon,” Brilissa told her, as she selected and wrapped a large quantity of food. “I could use a good hunter this spring. What with all the changes and everyone going off to make their own way, it will be quite lonely here. The only time I’ll get to see them all is at the meetings here in the main holding.” Brilissa wiped her hands on her apron.

  Kira smiled up at the cook. “You know I never intended to stay. Now that the seas are calm, I’ll be crossing the Faersent Sea to the western lands.” She rubbed her medallion between thumb and forefinger. “Besides, you have Tratine,” she said, unable to keep the sadness from her voice. “It seems he spends all of his waking time in the woods now. And he is a fair hunter. He’ll keep the kitchen well-supplied.” Kira couldn’t help but think that Tratine’s endless hours of hunting were in part a way to avoid her.

  “Oh, that poor boy,” Brilissa said. “I just wish he could find some comfort. Seeing his mother murdered by that devil. May Troka’s wheel crush him endlessly.”

  Guilt and anger warred within Kira. Her hands twitched with the urge to make the sign of the circle for Toril’s departed spirit. But what blessing could she give him? Toril’s death was on her hands. She knew without doubt that he would not have gone away peacefully, that he would have haunted her steps, hunted her down. Had Tratine’s arrow not distracted him, Toril, a veteran swordsman, would have bested her in short order. And then he would have made them all suffer. But Kira could not escape from the thought that she had struck him down at that instant of distraction, and in that moment had killed him as much out of hatred as fear.

  Kira raised her eyes and Brilissa put a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to upset you. It’s only that the poor boy is so lost without his mother, such that she was.”

  “It’s all right, Brilissa.” Sadness welled up in Kira when she thought about Tratine. She understood his pain and anger. He had lost his mother horribly, and he’d wrapped himself inside his resentment, blaming Kira and Milos for Mayet’s death. In the months that had passed since the battle, he had been even more unfriendly than before, blaming her and avoiding her as much as possible. Kira couldn’t help feeling that he was right. It was she who had brought Toril’s wrath down upon Tem Hold and its people.

  “I’m sure Tratine will find his way. Such a deep pain can take a long time to heal,” Kira found herself quoting Heresta once more. She hoped her words would help convince herself.

  She hugged Brilissa and hefted the heavily laden pack and grunted. “I think you’ve packed the entire kitchen’s stores in here.”

  Brilissa blushed bright crimson. “It’s my job to—”

  “Ensure the hold is well-fed.” Kira smiled again. “Thank you, Brilissa. I’ll miss our morning tea.”

  Brilissa clutched her apron as Kira left the kitchen.

  Trad stood in the yard, patiently nibbling at a shoots of early grass. Kelmir lay nearby, sleeping in the sun, his eyes closed to mere slits.

  As Kira heaved the pack onto Trad’s back, Vaith flapped his gilded wings and landed on the saddle. He tilted his head to one side and trilled softly.

  Harl and Milvari emerged from the stable, deep in conversation. “I quite agree,” Milvari said. “And the new stable will have to be large enough to contain a proper drying room for herbs, as well.”

  They came up beside Kira as she tied the pack down with strong leather laces. “I wish you weren’t leaving,” Milvari told her. “There’s so much more for me to learn.”

  Kira smiled. Milvari had grown so much in the past few months. She would miss the girl’s bright eagerness and quick ability with plants. She hugged her tightly. “You’ll have to find other teachers, Milvari. I have taught you all I can.”

  Harl held out his hand to Kira. In his palm lay a shiny black sliver. “It’s the Troll’s claw,” he said. “I kept it, but I thought you might like it back now.”

  Kira pressed her lips together. Tears forced themselves into her eyes and she blinked to keep them at bay. “Hold onto it,” she told him, her voice thick. “You may find it useful one day.”

  Harl closed his hand around the shard, a brilliant smile on his face. She gave him a quick hug and looked around. Milos was nowhere in sight. He was clearly still angry with her. Last night she had warred with herself. Part of her wanting to stay with him, the other part knowing she couldn’t. She doubted herself, but could not choose otherwise. Her path lay westward, on a journey to find her other’s people, to discover the secret of her lineage.

  Kira placed her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself into the saddle. She needed to be off. Ragnar’s dwelling lay many hours away, and she had promised to spend the night with the gnomes before traveling on to the coast harbor where she would board a ship and sail across the sea to the land of her mother’s kin.

  Kelmir yawned and stood, stretching his legs. She clicked her tongue and gave Trad a gentle nudge and the big horse set off across the yard. At the main gate she paused to look back. The midmorning sun shone brightly on the rooftops, casting the place in a warm glow. She would miss Tem Hold and its people.


  When she turned back toward the gate, a black and white dappled horse stepped into view. “I bid you good morn, Hunter,” Milos said.

  Kira sat up straight. Her scalp tingled as she eyed him with suspicion. Zharik was laden with heavy saddlebags and the holder carried a full array of weapons. He was prepared for a lengthy journey.

  “Are you traveling today, Holder?” she asked.

  “A short distance, perhaps.” He gave her a questioning nod.

  Kira sat still, considering the tall man before her. She knew he longed to be free of the burden of ruling Tem Hold, knew also that he had been setting things in place for the time when he could pass his duties and responsibilities on to others. But could he truly be willing to leave his home to go with her? Or would he one day change his mind? Change the way that Toril had?

  No. Milos was a very different man from what Toril had been. And, she realized with a start, she too had changed. She had been drawn to Toril by her need to feel safe and had stayed with him out of fear. What had grown between her and Milos was something else. It was the drawing together of two people with similar hearts and minds. But would it last?

  Another of Heresta’s sayings came to her unbidden, and she heard the old healer’s voice as the words rose in her mind. Each and every path in life has its own risks and rewards, but to refuse to make a choice brings nothing but regret.

  Kira nodded once and urged Trad out through the open gate. Milos reined Zharik in beside her. The wind freshened, blowing from the west, as the rest of Heresta’s words played out.

  And some risks are well worth taking.