Page 17 of The Lost Guard's Healer

The conversation shifts to the duties in the village tomorrow, and the current state of their community. It’s almost like a town hall meeting. My head begins to feel hot and I think I’ve had too much of the wine. I’m surprised to see my cup is empty now.

Eventually, we decide to withdraw for the night. I have my bedding still in the hut in which I had awoken, which has become my temporary home. The hut that Galene has stayed clear from for days now.

The man with the bushy mustache, whom I learn is named Yovin, walks beside me as we leave the dwindling campfire. A chill has developed in the night air that makes me shiver.

“You are an interesting one, young man,” Yovin says. He stands almost two feet shorter than me, though he has a large and commanding presence. I judge him to be around his seventieth year, but his bright eyes gleam with youthful mischief.

“I’ve been called many things in my day,” I tell him. “Interesting is not near the top of the list.”

“I can see that you are,” the old man says with a knowing look. “I sense a grand purpose within you. You are destined for great things. I know it. And you were brought to us for a reason. I know that, also.”

I’m not quite sure what he means, but I accept his words and thank him. I catch him stopping and watching me as I walk away to my hut. Every now and then, I get a feeling that I’m missing something, and that I should not be trusting these people as much as I have been. A feeling that tells me I should plan to leave as soon as my legs can carry me enough away. And this evening, that feeling is very strong.

It takes me a long while to fall asleep, and it isn’t until nearby sounds stir me awake that I realize I have drifted to sleep. A woman screams in the night. Heavy footsteps and grunts mix with the growing panic spreading through the village.

I know the sounds, and my heart pumps with adrenaline. I rush out to see my fears are real. Dark figures in heavy coats are rushing through the village, waving clubs and spears and chasing people down. A fire has begun to burn through a tent.

The Shanti Tribe is under attack.

Chapter seven

Rourk

Irun out into the night in my loose vest, with no time to find my crutches. Adrenaline is shooting through me and my fight senses are up enough to push me along. The village is in absolute chaos as the attackers throw lanterns that crash into the tents and huts. A fierce wall of fire has spread on one side. People run about in a panic, falling over themselves in their hysteria. Screams and tortured cries fill the smoke-filled air.

A young boy trips in front of me and I help him up. “Find cover,” I yell at him over the chaos. His eyes are wide and fearful and I’m not sure if he understands me when he runs away.

I need a sword or a weapon of some kind. I think I see Leila and her boys running along the tents, highlighted against the growing flames, but I can’t be sure it’s them. I head in that direction when one attacker starts charging at me.

The figure is shrouded in layers of ragged, stained clothing, like a monstrous form of a beggar on the street. He waves a short spear in the air as he growls like an animal, bearing pointed teeth.

I step to the side and grab the spear when he thrusts it at me, and spin it out of his hands. I know instantly he isn’t a trained soldier. I shove the spear into his chest and, as he drops limply to the ground, I throw the spear into another attacker’s back. The motion almost trips me off my feet, but I manage to regain my balance, only irritating my ankle a little.

A familiar face comes to me, sweating and panting heavily. The long-haired young hunter, Freddick, grabs my arms.

“He’s dead. He’s dead,” he says shakily, almost incoherent.

“Who’s dead?” I ask.

Freddick shakes his head as tears stream down his face, which crumples into a pained grimace. “My father. They came out of nowhere. They’re everywhere. They’re…”

I grip his shoulders and urge him to meet my eyes to focus on him. I know he’s in shock, and that he just lost someone he loves, but I need him to explain if I’m going to have a chance at saving others from the same fate. “Who are they?”

“B-bandits,” he says. “Wildmen.”

It hits me in an instant and a cold shiver ripples through me. These are the feral savages we heard of in the Oathlands. The uncivilized cannibals who roamed the Wildlands. The crazed men who are more animals than people.

I shake Freddick firmly to snap him out of his whimpering. “You’re a hunter. They’re animals. Find a weapon and take them down.”

He looks lost and shaken, so I shake him again and lock eyes with him. My fierce glare thankfully sobers him. “Find a weapon. Take them down. Protect the people. You can do this.”

He gives me a shaky nod. I let him run away, hoping he’s heading for a stash of hunting weapons.

Some villagers have bows and are firing arrows at the bandits. And only some of them look like they know how to use them effectively.

My head snaps around at the sound of a woman’s scream. A howling bandit is chasing down a young woman holding a babe in her arms. I run as fast as my legs can carry me and pick up a rock as I go, knowing I will not reach the Wildman in time. The rock soars from my hand and hits the bandit on his back. It’s enough to distract him for a moment and give me time to reach him. The woman with the babe runs away into the chaotic night.

The bandit growls and roars at me, sounding like a feral animal. His knuckles bulge with a wrapping. Likely filled with rocks for more damage. This one has matted long hair and his face is covered with enough dirt to hide his true complexion.

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