The Healer's Legacy (7 page)

She bowed her head and gave thanks for the life she was taking, then eyed the fish hungrily. It was too small to feed all three of them. Her stomach grumbled as she pried the fish from the hook and tossed it up on the bank where it couldn’t flop back into the river. Her arms shook with fatigue by the time evening shadows stretched across the river, but five fat fish gleamed on the shore.

At the water’s edge, she cleaned her catch as Vaith watched. She wasted nothing, placing the guts onto a flat rock and nodding to the little wyvern, who leaped forward and ate greedily. All living things were sacred, every life a spoke on the wheel. From Heresta, she had learned to show the proper gratitude for every plant and animal that gave its life to sustain hers.  She cleaned three of the fish, saving the last two for Kelmir. The big cat would eat them whole.

She skewered her three cleaned fish between thin green branches, opening them up to expose their fleshy insides, and stuck the ends of the branches in the sandy soil. “Keep an eye on these for me, little one, and I’ll share some with you once they’re cooked,” she told Vaith, who hopped from one foot to the other as she worked. “I think we can chance another fire. It will be dusk shortly, and the smoke won’t be seen. If we build it just inside the cave, the flames will be hidden from view, as well.” Picking the driest pieces she could find, she gathered enough firewood to make a small blaze and keep it going long enough to cook their meager meal.

As the sun cast the last of the day’s long shadows across the river, Kira knelt beside a dancing blaze, holding the skewered fish close enough to roast without burning. When they finished eating, she sat back and watched the flames turn to coals, and the coals to ash as the fire died. Life is that way, she thought. Burning bright one moment, then fading into nothing the next. A black mood stole over her as she fell into a feverish sleep beside the cooling ash, and her dreams were filled with a deadly fire that fell from the sky, raining down on fields and villages. Burning people ran in every direction, trying to escape the destruction and death all around them. In the midst of all the heat and chaos stood Toril, and fire filled his eyes.

CHAPTER SIX

Early next morning they continued their journey, following the river toward its source. The skies cleared, but the nights grew colder as they trekked across the upward-sloping terrain. From what she remembered of the maps she had seen, she knew they would need to turn north again to make the main pass through the Zendel Mountains. Kira stared ahead. The ground continued to rise ever more steeply, and the rocky cliff towered above them. Worry gnawed at her. They wouldn’t be able to head north if the cliff didn’t recede.

There were other passes through the mountains besides the Kandurst Gap. But each potential option held its own dangers. The Gap traversed the mountains at a low elevation that allowed passage most of the year, which made it physically less dangerous than other paths. However, it was also heavily used. The trail that followed the river might take them to a pass less traveled because it led high up into the mountains, which could be treacherous. The pass, if it existed, might not even be open. A rock fall might have closed it, or it might already be covered in snow and ice. This wasn’t the way she would have chosen to travel to the Faersent Sea, but the rising cliff was leaving them no choice.

The river narrowed, splashing past in white torrents, while the ground grew rough and rocky. The trail followed the river’s zigzag path as the cliff rose up, leaning at a precarious angle overhead. They climbed steep inclines and threaded narrow rocky places where the trail became difficult and unsafe. Kira often dismounted, leading Trad instead of riding. His leg was still inflamed and she worried that the strenuous journey kept it from healing.

Every morning, Kira had to renew her resolve to go on, wavering between the worry that they would reach an impassable point and the fear that Toril’s men might have picked up their trail. At each turn they came to, she hoped they would find the water’s source and the narrow gap beyond, and that they would be over the mountains and on their way down to the western sea. But around each bend, there was still no sign of the pass.

On the morning of the tenth day after leaving the cave, the snow began. It started as a slow flurry of flakes, drifting out of the sky like a swarm of dying butterflies. Kira pulled the blanket closer. Above them were the cold gray clouds, ahead the endless narrow trail.
Vaith, can you fly further ahead and scout for us? If the snow gets worse, we’ll need a place to wait out the storm
.

He shot her a sleepy-eyed glance from his perch on the saddle horn, blinking his eyes open and shut, rousing himself from his chill-induced stupor. With a slow spread of his wings, he launched himself into the air and flapped off.

As Vaith took flight, Kelmir bounded forward and batted at a large flake of snow that drifted past his nose. The snowflake stuck to his foot and melted. Kira found herself laughing as he licked the wetness from his paw. She’d forgotten the joy that snow could bring. Snow had been rare in the vales where she’d grown up, but when it did fall the children would leave their chores to play in the white softness. Even some of the adults had joined in, building snow mounds and carving out cold sculptures that they would pour water over, turning them into icy statues. But there had always been a crackling fire to run to and something hot to drink when her hands and face turned rosy from the cold.

Vaith’s thoughts nudged her memories aside and she gazed through his eyes at the path ahead. The river continued, but there was no sign of a pass, and no place to shelter.
Come back,
Kira told him, trying to keep the worry from her thoughts. Darkness was falling and she knew they wouldn’t survive long if the snow flurry became a blizzard. The pass had to be near. Trad seemed reluctant as she urged him forward. “We’ll rest, soon. I promise.” She patted his warm neck. She had carefully tended his wounded leg each morning and night, but the swelling remained and the scratch had begun to fester. She no longer rode, but walked beside him, keeping a watch on his gait.

Trad blew out, his breath rising in steamy wisps, and she stroked his ears. Things could be worse, she kept reminding herself, repeating Heresta’s words over in her mind. But the words were only words and they did nothing to soothe her. Certainly things could be worse, she thought. I could be lying bruised and tortured in Toril’s tent. Or dead.

Snowflakes reeled in the air and she leaned against Trad’s warm flank, pulling the blanket over her head so it covered her face. Her fingers shook from the cold and she blew into them for warmth. “Come on, Trad.” She tugged gently at his reins.

Vaith returned and landed on her shoulder. His claws dug into the padding of her vest. Gladness flowed through her, even as they hurried into the unknown. It was good to have him on her shoulder again. She relaxed and watched the road ahead.

The snow continued to fall and the wind picked up as midday turned toward late afternoon. Kira began searching for a place to camp, but there seemed to be no place that would shelter Trad from the wind and cold.

They turned a corner and Kira pulled Trad up short. A distant rumbling filled the air. Ahead, a tall white streak sliced down the mountainside. A waterfall. They were near the summit at last.

Large flakes continued to fall and the snow drifted, filling in their footprints as they passed beneath the waterfall and on through the thick forest. The trail narrowed to a foot track, becoming overgrown with roots and bracken, but continued to wind through the trees. The path turned westward and before evening began to descend. Kira’s mind buzzed. After all they’d been through, it couldn’t be that easy, could it?

They emerged from the dense covering of woods to find themselves at the top of a steep cliff, with the only way down a narrow ledge that cut back and forth along the rock face. Kira peered into the shadows that filled the valley below. Through the heavy haze, she could make out a dense forest and, farther off, open land.

She leaned down to check Trad’s leg. His swollen ankle was hot to the touch and he stood still, keeping his weight off his foot. The poultice she had applied the day before had dried, and dark yellow pus oozed out from the edges. She rubbed his withers. His coat was wet with sweat and he shivered at her touch. “I’m sorry, Trad. What you need is a hot soak in a strong drawing fluid to pull out the toxin and then a long rest, but I can’t give you that here. Hopefully, we’ll find a cot or ’stead in the valley.”

She turned to Kelmir. The big cat sat on his haunches a few feet down the path, waiting. “It’s up to you, Kel,” she told him. “Scout the way down. We’ll follow behind.”

The trek down was woefully slow, but Kira took her time, making sure the ground was solid enough to hold Trad’s weight as he limped along behind her. The sky brightened as the morning sun rose toward its zenith, but the air refused to warm. Kira stared out toward the flat expanse that lay beyond the trees. It was hard to tell from this distance, but the ground seemed to have been cleared for planting. She hoped it meant they would find a farm or holding nearby. Preferably one with a warm fire, Kira thought, blowing on her fingers to warm them.

Trad’s limp had deteriorated to a hobble. The only possibility of finding help now lay in the valley below them.

They passed below the haze and finally the numbing chill abated and the air grew warmer as they made their way down toward the valley. Stretched out below them, deciduous trees dressed in brilliant colors grew among the tall evergreens. Fall had already come to this valley. She stopped to let Trad rest and admired the colorful display of red and gold. For a moment she let herself forget she was fleeing a gang of mercenaries bent on returning her to imprisonment and abuse. When she was young fall had been her favorite time of year. The warmth of summer had always lingered on the farm as she helped her father and mother tend the fall crops they would dry and preserve for the winter. But in fall the sun set early, and there were stories by a warm fire and hot mugs of mulled cider to hold between cold fingers after coming in from evening chores.

Her reverie was broken as Trad tried to put his weight down on his foreleg and stumbled toward the trail’s edge. “Whoa, Trad. Whoa.” The edge of the trail shifted and collapsed in a rattle of dirt and rocks that slid toward the valley below. With shaking hands, Kira eased Trad back toward the cliff wall. It was a good thing she hadn’t been able to ride. The treacherous path was barely able to hold Trad’s weight without her on his back.

“Okay, boy,” she said as he grew steady. His breathing was heavy as she rubbed his muzzle. “Let’s move on. The sooner we reach the valley, the sooner I can tend to that leg.” He snorted and stepped forward at her urging, but he was unable to put his weight on the foot. Kira walked backward down the trail, keeping her eyes on his progress as he hobbled toward her.

“Come on Trad,” she said, when he slowed. His coat was covered in foamy sweat that spattered her in small flecks as he shivered. A few hundred strides more would bring them to the valley floor. “We’re nearly there,” she whispered, but Trad stopped and leaned against the face of the cliff, refusing to move. His foreleg was swollen and dripping with pus. Kira knew how much it must hurt. “You can do it, boy. Just a little farther,” she urged.

She pulled at Trad’s bridle. “Come on,” she begged, her voice breaking. But Trad refused to budge. Kira clenched her jaw and pulled again, but a spattering of dirt and rocks rained down on them. She stopped and peered up through the gray mist. On the cliff far above them were the silhouettes of three men on horseback. And they were starting down the trail toward her. She heard a shout and more dirt showered down the cliff side. For one terrible moment, she thought she heard Toril’s angry voice, felt him battering her. The men had to be Toril’s soldiers. Who else would be following the trail through this pass? Trad started and whinnied as gravel and rocks pelted him. Vaith flapped up from the saddle with a terrified squawk. Kira tried to calm them, but her own fear and the dust from the cascading dirt choked her.

Trad broke free, yanking the reins out of her hands, and bolted down the trail. He careened along the path, dangerously close to the edge. The trail seemed to shift beneath Kira’s feet as she ran after Trad, calling for him to slow down. She watched in terror as he bore directly down on Kelmir. The big cat sprang out of the way, leaping down to the next level and running ahead as Trad turned the corner and continued headlong toward the bottom. As he neared the valley floor, an entire section of the cliff above them gave way in an angry roar. Horses screamed and men yelled as the shower of debris turned into a rushing fall of dirt and rocks that crashed down toward the valley floor.

More dirt fell on Kira and she yanked the blanket up over her head and pressed herself flat against the cliff as the rush of stones and debris poured past. The dirt slid down in a torrent that pelted her head and shoulders. Dust rose up and filled her nose and mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to breathe. Sliding debris tumbled over her, pushing her toward the edge of the trail. She dug her fingers into the rock wall. The trail gave out beneath her feet and she leaned back, bracing herself against the cliff, waiting as the dirt slid past her, slowed to a trickle, and stopped. She opened her eyes and peeled back the blanket. A thick brown haze obscured everything. She coughed and spit, clearing the dirt from her mouth. “Troka, please let Trad be all right,” she prayed.

She slid one foot back, testing for solid ground. Found nothing. Behind her, the trail had been shaved down to a narrow strip just wide enough for her to clutch with her toes. With tiny steps, she inched sideways along the cliff, gripping the wall as best she could. After a few feet, the trail widened out again. She stepped cautiously away from the cliff, testing first to see if the path would hold her, shook the dirt from her face and looked up. Through the haze she could make out a single man, peering down from the top of the cliff. Of the other two men, there was no sign. All the way down the side of the cliff, a gaping section of the trail had been obliterated. A wide swathe of the cliff wall had been shaved smooth. There was no way back up. But no way down from the top either. Fear gave way to relief. Toril’s men would have to go back empty handed. The man at the top of the cliff yelled something, but his voice was only an echo. Then the mist closed in and obscured him from view.

Kira shook dirt from her blanket. She needed to get off the ledge. The slide might not have been intentional, but that didn’t mean the men above her wouldn’t try to cause another one. They might be tired of chasing her and ready to return to Toril with news of her accidental death.

But the lower part of the trail was completely gone. Where before it had crossed the side of the cliff, there was now a long slide of dirt and rocks. It wouldn’t be a pleasant way to travel, but there was no other way to reach the valley floor. She wiped at her face, but her filthy hands and sleeves only ground more of the gritty dirt into her skin.

Putting one foot in front of the other to be sure the trail would hold her weight, she inched toward the pile of rubble. She stared across the debris to where a section of the trail was still intact. It might be possible to cross the slide and reach the trail again on the other side, but then she would still have to recross the mound of dirt farther down when the trail cut back again. Below her, Trad stood trembling on three legs. The quicker she reached him, the better. Besides, the mass of dirt and rocks didn’t appear stable. And she couldn’t possibly get past the debris at its widest points. She might just as well ride it down from here.