Page 14 of The Lost Guard's Healer

Chapter six

Rourk

Galene spends the next three days making my life a miserable hell.

She does everything she can to make me uncomfortable, but won’t affect my health. It seems she’s petty enough to, just as her father promised, overspice my tea, but never to go far enough to ensure I might have to stay a day longer than necessary. From tea to serving me cold dinners to wrapping my bandages extra tight to “accidentally” dumping an entire bottle of stinging antiseptic all over my wounds, Galene seems intent on torturing me.

Besides fending off as much of Galene’s torment as possible, those days are mostly spent recovering and learning how to walk again. My strength is slowly returning and I’ve been able to get to know some people in the Shanti Tribe. I’m still getting used to not calling them Wildmen. Everyone has been nice and welcoming to me so far. Everyone but Galene, who seems intent on forcing me out with vicious glares and sighs. Although many others are either distantly mistrustful or forcibly polite, likely not wanting to anger the foreigner.

While I still sleep and rest in the small hut I’d awoken in, she no longer comes to check on me or make me a healing tea. Which suits me fine, as it’s too exhausting to be around someone who hates me so much.

It was a shock to learn that an Oathlander had killed her mother and unborn brother. That was over ten years ago, just beyond the Oathlands border, but I don’t recall ever hearing of such a thing happening. Aldus told me they had been dressed as bandits in weathered cloaks, like some of the feral savages known to traverse the Wildlands. The savages whom we Oathlanders had called Wildmen. We hadn’t known there was also a large community out in the Wildlands. Good people who had villages all around the wilderness. I wonder if The Kingdom folk know of the Shanti People.

During one of my trips to bathe in the riverbank beyond the woods, I notice how heavy my stubble is when I look into the water’s reflection. It’s practically a full beard at this point, but I don’t mind the look. I do mind how much weight I’ve lost, however, and how weak I still am. But I’ve been making progress and only need one crutch now, and can mostly walk unaided on even ground, if I take it slow and steady. I feel like a child learning to walk for the first time.

Aldus has proved to be a gracious host and has been happy to show me around and introduce me to more people, and share insights into the ways of his people. Now, knowing that an Oathlander had killed his wife and unborn child, I have to wonder if he is putting on a false front. There could be an ulterior motive for his hospitality. But I don’t sense any ill intention from him. I tell myself that isn’t reason enough to fully trust anyone.

Leila finds me coming out of the woods after bathing. My shirt is in my hands and my baggy pants are partially wet from the water dripping off my bare torso. Her eyes roam my chest as she pauses, likely noting the history of scars on my upper body. She gives me a small wave.

She has a strong build for a woman of thirty years, with broad shoulders and strong-looking arms. Her dark hair is similar to Galene’s but cut shorter to brush against her shoulders. Her vibrant blue eyes have some green in them, which is easier to see in the bright sunlight.

“I was just coming to look for you,” she says. “We have a great amount of fruit that needs separating. Have you ever de-seeded an orangeberry?”

“Not professionally,” I say. That earns me a smirk.

“How about picking green beans?” she says. “If you’re available, I figure we’d put you to some work.”

“Let me check my schedule.” I stop before her and take a moment to look around. Birds chirp in a nearby tree. A warm breeze blows over us. “Would you look at that? I’m free right now.”

She smiles and nods, and I follow her down a path. She walks slowly for me to keep up with her, using my crutch on the gravelly, uneven ground. We make small talk until a question comes to my mind.

“Your boys are wonderful,” I begin. “Their father is away from the village? I don’t think I’ve met him yet.”

“My Geralt was struck by the crops disease,” she tells me, so casually she could be speaking about the weather. “It’s been… almost five years now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t think I know about this crops disease.”

“It has nothing to do with crops. They just thought it did back in the olden days, and the name stuck. It’s an airborne sickness that some of us are susceptible to. A deficiency in our blood, or something we’re simply born with. Anyway, it was a brief illness, mercifully.”

“That must have been hard, raising the boys on your own.”

She shrugs and nods. “I’ve had help from everyone. Here, we all look out for each other. We all want to better ourselves by bettering others. That’s our way of life.”

“I… lost my wife to an illness,” I say.

She turns to me with raised brows. “I didn’t know you were married.”

“A lifetime ago. She caught the flu and couldn’t recover. We did everything we could, but the illness worked through her swiftly.” The memories still sting, but I’m no longer gutted by them. I can now remember her fondly instead of the heart shattering grief that swallowed me for years.

Leila is frowning. “I’m so sorry.”

I leave out the part about me having a daughter. I wouldn’t want them to trace me back to my real self, or risk May’s safety by telling these people of her existence. I don’t even know why I told Leila of my late wife.

“I applaud your way of helping each other,” I say, breaking the silence. “That is the opposite way to those in the Kingdom. There, they are all out for themselves, stepping over each other to be in the highest tower. To have the most coin.”

Leila gives me a sideways look. “Are you sure about that? I mean, you had your preconceptions about us. Maybe you just need to look closer at the Kingdom folk to see them better.”

“They launched an attack on our land just a few weeks ago. We’ve been at war for centuries. We’ve come too far for any peace.”

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