he was blind.
“The kestrel helps him see,” a stranger said beside her.
Startled, she looked at the people around her and realized a taller, much younger man was waiting close by. By his unkempt red hair and paler skin, she knew without asking this boy was an outlander, a stranger like herself to the Plains.
“Who are you?” she asked, her astonishment making her question more abrupt than she meant.
He offered her a bashful grin. “My name is Tancred. I am not from around here. I am Danian’s apprentice.”
She gave him a smile back. “You sound as if you’ve had to repeat that a few times.”
“A few. I ended up here by accident a few weeks ago, and I am still trying to explain myself.”
Her brows lowered in confusion. “A few weeks ago? And you are an apprentice with a tribal healer? Already?”
“He is a healer and a shaman. And yes, I am his apprentice. It was all rather unexpected.”
Linsha looked back to watch Danian. “He knows animism, as well. Or does his bird talk?”
“His bird does not talk,” Varia replied in her ear with only the slightest hint of condescension in her tone.
They watched the healer talk to a tall, powerful looking man near the back of the crowd. The Plainsman nodded once and glanced Linsha’s way. She caught his eye and made a bow as best she could with a walking staff and an owl on her shoulder. She had not had a chance to talk to Wanderer that evening, but she hoped to sometime before the confrontation with the Tarmak.
Danian came back, as unerringly as before, and with Tancred by his side, he followed Linsha out of the feasting grounds to the militia’s camp. She could only hobble very slowly, even with the help the staff, but the two men made no complaint or comment. When they reached the camp, Linsha saw the site was empty at the moment, for everyone else was enjoying the food and the music on the distant side of the tree. The small fire had burned down to orange embers but was still hot enough to keep the pot of kefre warm for anyone who wanted some.
Danian obviously “saw” the camp, too. He steered Linsha to the fallen log seat and had her sit. “Tancred, stir up the fire so we can see.”
Varia fluttered from Linsha’s shoulder and perched beside her on the log, her round eyes fixed on the healer and his bird.
Linsha said nothing. She watched the healer carefully while he knelt in front of her, removed her boot, and examined her ankle with his fingers. He seemed to know what he was doing, in spite of his sightlessness. His long fingers stroked and prodded her joint, twisted it back and forth, and gently massaged her foot.
“It’s not broken,” he announced. “But I think you know that.” He twisted his neck to look up at her. “It is badly sprained, but I might be able to repair some of the damage with your help.”
“Mine?”
“Of course. You have a mystic talent, too. Not quite as good as Tancred’s for healing. Different.” He cocked his head as if pondering an unexpected discovery. “Still, I think it will be enough to help you get back on your feet.”
“But I haven’t been able to use mine for a while. Something is wrong.”
“It is the dead.”
Linsha stared hard at him “What did you say?”
“The spirits of the dead. They haven’t left this world. I think they are feeding off our magic.”
“How do you know? Have you seen them?”
“Yes. Some nights ago we were attacked by a raiding party. I had a vision and saw the souls of the dead rise from the bodies. But they didn’t leave as they are supposed to do, and when I tried to use my powers to heal the wounded, the dead gathered around me and my magic failed.” He paused and cocked his head again. “What is it? You are very quiet. Have you seen the dead?”
“Only one, and he came to warn me. But. I thought I was dreaming.” She clasped her hands together. “Until we were attacked by brigands.”
Her throat tightened and her head began to pound with a sudden and wrenching sense of sadness for the friends she had lost. Could Danian be right? Falaius had said something similar once, several months ago, about the spirits of the dead remaining behind. Is that all there was to look forward to after death? Wandering this world and devouring magic? What did the spirits do with the power? Why couldn’t they leave? Did her father know this?
“Is that how you got this injury?” asked Danian. “The brigands?”
Linsha started slightly and realized she had let her thoughts stray again. “Yes. I tripped over a dead draconian.”
“Then let’s see what we can do.” He leaned forward on his knees and clasped Linsha’s ankle in one hand. “Tancred, give me your hand. I want you to close your eyes and concentrate on what I am doing.”
The redheaded apprentice tried to stifle a look of apprehension on his face. “Are you sure I can help with this?” he asked.
“Yes, lad. Or I would’ve asked the sentry over there. Now, Lady,” he said to Linsha. “Just focus on your own power, and I will guide it to your ankle. With luck we’ll be able to repair this before our magic fails.”
Linsha glanced at Varia, who sat so quietly beside her. The owl bobbed her head once. Closing her eyes, Linsha let her body relax muscle by muscle from head to foot. She banished thoughts of death and spirits and turned her mind away from the outer world. Sounds from the feasting and the other camps around her went away beyond a wall of calm silence until all she could hear was the snap and crackle of the fire and the wind rustling the leaves of the Grandfather Tree overhead. Eventually even those fell to a profound silence that allowed her to listen to her own heartbeat. She reached deeper within her and concentrated on the magic power Goldmoon had taught her resided in her own heart. It lay there waiting, a warm, sparkling energy that infused her blood and needed only a gentle prod to go coursing through her body in a healing, energizing wave. She focused the energy down to her ankle and foot, and to her delight, found it was met by another magic far stronger and more assured than hers. It guided her power into the torn ligaments and broken blood vessels, sealing the leaks and repairing the damaged muscles. The pain of her ankle waned swiftly as the joint gently healed.
Then Linsha felt a faint tickle around her face and on her neck like the wings of insects or the light brush of fingers. Her concentration slipped. She recalled this tickling had happened every time she lost control of the magic. Immediately, the power she had drawn from her heart slipped out of her grasp and drained away, leaving nothing but a dull ache to thud in her ankle. Furiously, she wrenched herself out of the failed spell and jumped to her feet.
“Stop it!” she yelled at the darkness. “Why are you doing this?”
There was no answer. She hadn’t really expected one. But on the furthest edges of her vision, she saw faint wispy shapes draw back from her, their ghostly hands held out in supplication.
“You want magic?” she shouted at the figures. “Go bother the Tarmaks!” They have plenty of magic!”
The images vanished completely and Linsha found herself standing by the fire and feeling a little foolish.
Varia hooted at her.
She turned to see both birds and men staring at her. Tancred’s freckled face was grinning and even Danian’s weathered face had an uplifted expression. A sentry nearby and several people within earshot of her shouts also looked over to see what the yelling was about. Linsha felt her face grow hot.
“You’re standing without the walking stick,” Tancred pointed out.
Still annoyed, Linsha sat down again on the log.
“You saw them this time, didn’t you?” Danian asked as he gently manipulated her joint.
“I’m not sure,” she sighed. “I thought I saw… something. It was very faint.”
He wrapped her foot again and slipped her hoot back on for her. “Good! We did better than I hoped. Your ankle is not completely healed. You will have to be careful for a few days, but most of the damage was repaired. You have a strong spirit and a powerful will. That is probably why you saw the souls of the dead this time.”
Linsha drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was suddenly very tired. She could not fathom the mysteries of the dead at this time and didn’t have the mental strength to try. But maybe this shaman could help
