Page 15 of The Lost Guard's Healer

Leila’s eyes flash with humor. “This is a new world. Full of magic and unknown wonder. Who knows? That’s all I’m saying, anyway.”

I nod. “You have a point.”

She has is good height, not too short and not too tall. And I find myself drawn to her amiable air. In my experience, it’s rare to find an easy conversationalist like Leila. But I don’t tell her that.

“Your walking is getting better,” she says, pointing with her chin.

It’s then I realize I haven’t been using my crutch. I don’t know how long I’ve been walking without it, but the moment I see I’m not using it, my balance tilts and I sway. Leila catches me in her arms before I fully go off balance.

We pause in each other’s arms for a moment, our faces close together. Her hair smells like flowers and freshly cut grass. She smiles and steps away as I regain the support of the crutch.

We keep going to the workbenches where a few people are busy preparing fruits and vegetables. I’ve heard that the fish recently caught is at risk of going bad, and so tonight they have decided to have a large feast for the entire village.

I get to work, happy to have something useful to do.

I’m finding that the Shanti People are a very hard-working bunch. They pride themselves on being productive members of their village. Speaking to some of the others preparing the fruits and vegetables, I learn that there is another tribe of Shanti People on the coastline of the northern continent, though the two have not communicated for years now.

“We are all Shanti,” an elderly woman says. I think her age is close to a hundred.

“What does that mean?”

She studies me for a long moment, pondering. “It means that the Shanti are the oldest tribe, the oldest society in the world. The oldest that still remains, anyway.”

“That’s not what the history books say,” I reply, confused.

“Do you know what is so fun about books?” She asks me. “Any old fool can write whatever they’d like, and in a few generations, everyone will think it is so.” She gives me a sad smile. “Not everything we learn is truth.”

“But I’m supposed to believe this is?”

“Think for a moment. What do I have to gain from lying to an Oathlander who will be gone in a few days? And what was to gain from an entire population of people believing otherwise?”

I don’t know the answer, but her words settle into my bones, nevertheless.

Movement from the pathway between the tents catches my eye. Three young girls are peeking out from around a corner, watching me. They look to be barely out of their teens, if that. They giggle when I notice them and hurry away, shoving each other and laughing.

I shake my head.

That night, I sit by the campfire and enjoy a meal with a dozen or so of the villagers. They have prepared a rabbit and potato stew with green beans and fresh herbs. Their herbs also include some crushed flowers for flavor. They seem to eat flowers with almost every meal. I’m surprised at how flavorsome the simple ingredients of the stew are.

Aldus is sitting beside me and has been telling me about his day tending to the garden behind his tent. He had taken his grandsons out to a nearby field to catch firebugs earlier, so he’s more than happy to be resting and eating now.

A bottle of wine is being passed around and we’ve been filling our clay cups as it reaches us. The first sip of the red wine hits me like a punch in the face, which makes a few of them laugh. I soon find that the homemade wine of the Shanti People is fragrant and considerably stronger than I am used to.

“I’ve never seen the stars like this before,” I tell them.

It is a clear night and with little light beyond the campfire, the heavens are clear for us to witness. A sheet of glowing stars is overhead, more than I’ve ever seen. Some even have a shade of red, blue, or green to their light. The more I look, the more my eyes adjust and the more faint stars and clusters I can make out. I’m overwhelmed at how vast the star field is.

“Your buildings are too close together and block out much of the sky,” a robust man around my age says from across the fire.

“Not as bad as in the Kingdom,” I say, “but yes, we have enough to hide this expansive view each night.”

Magdalena, the daughter of an elder, cocks her head. “You compare yourself favorably to the Kingdom many times. Are you aware of this?”

I think about that. “Old habits,” I admit.

Gazing at the stars, I spot a familiar constellation. “Do you know the names of the constellations?” I ask, pointing up. “That one is the Shield.”

Aldus nods. “We call it the Shovel.”

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