Dark Healer (An Empire Falls Book 1)

by Harry Leighton

  “Hello,” came the belated reply. “How are you?”

  “Good thanks, very good. A fine day to travel.”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to return.”

  “What were you expecting from me?”

  “I’m a healer. You’re a healer. I’m hoping you’d like an apprentice.”

  *****

  In the end Jonas led the way, making swift time through a trail of destruction with half his attention on spotting the target and half on not tripping over the roots or knocking himself out on a branch. He had the advantage that whatever was ahead had been snapping and hitting things, so was slower and clearing the route, that and Jonas was also trained to do it. On the rare occasion he looked behind him he could see Daeholf keeping up, evidently just as trained, and Trimas a little further back. Exactly what you’d expect of a scout and a normal soldier. Had he been any less busy that might have calmed his questions on the newcomers.

  Then he saw it, ahead of him, a male, with no armour but a sword being used to slash at the flora, moving in a huge arc which was bringing it slowly back to the road. Would it be better to engage it now, in the wood, where experienced and tight movement might help, or on the road, where they could move more easily? Jonas was gaining quickly.

  But while Jonas had the spaces and distances tied together in his mind and knew where he was in relation to the road, that map couldn’t predict things he hadn’t seen, and suddenly he saw the altered man burst through into a cart track. The altered turned to its left in an attempt to return to the road and began a stumbling run. Jonas was there a second later, but they’d have to sprint now.

  The first arrow hit the altered in the chest, making it halt, and then three more followed in quick succession, hitting in the hips and legs. The creature staggered, stayed upright, but was greatly slowed by the metal now grinding on its bones. This let Daeholf and Jonas catch up from behind, and allowed the latter to sink a sword deep into the altered’s skull. It sank to the floor, where they cut the head off to make sure.

  Jonas spotted something which alarmed him, as Zedek now stepped out of the wood in the direction the arrows had come from, which was expected. It was Alia stepping out much further down the trail which worried him. She’d been their last line of stopping the chase, but it meant Zedek had shot all those arrows, and Jonas had never seen so many fired so quickly and so accurately. These were not the usual skills of a quartermaster. So who were these people really?

  He was soon focusing on more pressing issues, as Daeholf was looking at the head.

  “Well, we know why it was panicked; the bandits had managed to smash one of its eyes. Only one good for seeing. Maybe it’s not used to being injured?”

  “Could be.”

  “Did you save them?” Alia asked, calling ahead.

  “You better explain that,” Daeholf added to Jonas.

  Who are you? he wondered in reply.

  *****

  Marlen wasn’t immune to surprise, but he managed to stop himself looking shocked at this stranger’s approach. Instead he raised an eyebrow, took a breath, and said, “Why were you looking for me? There are plenty of local healers.”

  “Local healers?” he laughed.

  Marlen concluded this man spoke too much, which was also useful and not in the way the man intended. “So, you picked me out. Why?”

  “Do I need to say?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re a remarkable man, remarkable. You possess such skill and ability, such a level of knowledge,” and as the stranger continued Marlen refused to get flattered. He knew it was all true, but it wouldn’t do to get side-tracked. Soon the conversation turned to where Marlen was checking it went. “And more importantly, you know how to use that knowledge.”

  “And that appeals?” Don’t admit, don’t feed, but make sure.

  “Of course. The mortal body is weak, prone to disease, injury, even just failing from fighting itself. God could have made us unstoppable, but he made us weak. Well, we can stop that, change that, can’t we, you and I, we can create the perfect body and the perfect life.”

  So somehow he knew, and that should have been enough for Marlen to reach out and kill him, end the threat, stop the danger. And yet he stayed his hand, because he agreed with everything that had been said. The body was weak, he could fix it, there was a plan that would be easier with two people. And there had been a friend once, hadn’t there, two friends in fact, neither of them healers, but companions, friends, who had made his life warmer. Both long in the past. Could he trust another once more?

  Marlen decided to let the man ride with him for a while as he decided.

  “You have a clear vision, and you have commitment. Both of which I like. But tell me, tell me about healing? What, for you, is the first rule?”

  “Don’t heal anyone powerful.”

  Marlen smiled. “Why?”

  “Healing isn’t a foolproof skill. People can and do die, and relatives tend to get angry, point the finger. Your average farm labourer isn’t going to get far with the local healer, but someone with power could have you deemed a mage and burned.” Well, Marlen concluded, he was pragmatic.

  “Your healing isn’t foolproof?” He only partly meant it as a joke.

  “Not yet, I still have a little to learn, which you can teach me. But I know to heat knives and boil water, keep wounds clean. I know good herbs and bad herbs. You’d be surprised how many people lack this.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Too many healers are grubs half praying and working blind, doing as much harm as good. No one ever got better from a goose’s liver being bound to a wound.”

  While Marlen had to acknowledge the truth in that, there was something about the tone he disliked.

  “Why should I take you on as an apprentice?”

  “Because I can more than halve your workload. I can help you achieve the creation of a new race. I can help you rule them all.”

  Marlen didn’t raise an eyebrow, instead he turned to the road. A new race. Governed by him. It sounded crass to hear someone else say it, to see someone’s naked hunger for forced change and power. It struck Marlen as arrogant, and that made Marlen wonder if he was arrogant too. The more he considered this man, the more he saw a mirror of what he either was or would become, and he wanted to smash that mirror rather than look at it. Maybe the sundering of his friendship, of that trio, had freed him from looking at himself, maybe he had to continue alone, maybe that was his destiny.

  Marlen turned, looked at the wannabe, and decided. There would be no apprentice. Which left the important question of what to do with this young man. He could be taken into service as one of the improved, operated on and brought into line, but maybe that was just as arrogant as the youth himself. There was no guarantee Marlen’s ideas would ever work, but was there some comfort in knowing someone with a similar mindset was out working in the world? Maybe it would be better to scare him off, scare him to the other side of the empire, and let him forge his own path.

  Marlen smiled. “I think you would make an interesting apprentice, but there would have to be a few … changes.” He made his voice deliberately lower, drew the words out.

  “How so?”

  “How about a third arm?”

  “I don’t think…”

  “And, of course, we can tweak your hands.”

  “My hands?”

  “Yes, yes, I think you’ll make a fine apprentice once we’ve done some work on you.”

  “No!”

  “Sorry?”

  “No, I don’t want to be operated on!”

  “Then, my new friend, we’ll have to alter your mind as well,” and at this the stranger turned his horse, kicked it and charged off the way he had originally come. Marlen allowed himself a chuckle at the arrogance of it all, and then felt a pang inside him. Yes, he’d definitely made the right choice, rejecting unwanted reminders of it all. Perhaps a little bit of lunch.

/>   *****

  Daeholf stood and brushed his hands on his trousers. “Well he wasn’t carrying anything to give us a clue as to where the healer is at the moment.”

  “I suppose a map would have been too much to hope for,” Trimas sighed.

  “A map? Do you want a signed invitation too?”

  Trimas laughed at Daeholf. “I think we got one of those when the arrow didn’t kill that first one.”

  “Agreed. At least we know we can handle them okay when the odds are in our favour. We can work to make that happen.”

  “Standard army conclusion?” Alia asked.

  “Yes. You always try and avoid meeting people head on. Unless you’re our Klasnak, and they have to be insane before they’re allowed in.”

  “Pain in the arse they are,” Trimas sighed again.

  “I wonder what they eat?” All eyes turned to Zedek and his question.

  “What?”

  “Do they eat what we do, are they sustained by different foodstuffs, are they immune to alcohol, lots of questions.”

  “No idea.”

  “I could cut its stomach open and take a look.”

  “No Zedek,” was Jonas’ impulse reply, “that’s not … needed.”

  “Besides, you could have looked in the last one you cut up,” Trimas pointed out.

  “Wait,” and Daeholf raised a finger in the air.

  “What?”

  “It’s not carrying anything on it, but it was riding. There was a saddlebag…”

  He began to march down the track and the others followed. “Let’s hope it killed all the thieves.”

  “Harsh. But useful.”

  Soon they were at the junction of the track and the road, where Alia and Zedek had tied their horses, and headed to the point where the other animals had been secured. Jonas was impressed with the calm and ease with which Daeholf went to the horse’s corpse laying in its own offal, and examined the bag.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” he said, sighing.

  “What is it?” Trimas asked.

  “It’s a fucking map.”

  “I am the emperor, bow before me.” Trimas saw Alia and Jonas look askance. “There’s no guard round now, I can blaspheme him.”

  “Don’t get too excited, it doesn’t mark the healer’s position or anything. But at least it gives us an idea of what is where around here,” Daeholf said.

  “Balls,” Trimas said. He looked guiltily at Alia. “Ah, sorry.” She shrugged.

  “What food is it carrying?” Zedek asked.

  “We’re really being obsessed with its food.”

  “They might be carrying something that explains their healing,” Zedek protested.

  “Magic food?” Alia asked skeptically.

  “Well, why not. A potion of something maybe…”

  “We’re getting off track here,” Daeholf said.

  “Speaking of which, there is another of the altered out there, running. Tracking it seems like a good idea,” Jonas said.

  “Will there be bounties on the thieves?” Alia asked.

  “Might be,” Jonas said.

  “Why, what are you thinking?” Trimas asked.

  “We take them with us?” Alia suggested.

  “You’ve got a solid business head,” Jonas said, “but they might slow us down a bit.”

  “Maybe their heads then?” Alia asked.

  “You want to stay here and saw them off?” Daeholf asked.

  “Um … not really,” Alia admitted.

  “The trail then,” Jonas said.

  “And this time we have the advantage,” Trimas said. “We’re on horseback and it is on foot.”

  *****

  Brig looked down at his reflection in the pool. The eyes that looked back might have been his but they weren’t him. He’d changed — and been changed so much over the last few months.

  In many ways he was grateful. He looked at his right arm, flexing it gently. Being whole was a wonder and how did you thank the man that could do that for you? The arm was unquestionably a change for the better. The rest? That was frightening.

  Oh, being able to see better in the dark was useful, there was no doubt about that. But he couldn’t see in quite the same detail that he used to be able to, as if the world was in some way clouded from him. Marlen never did tell him where his new sight had come from. It wasn’t something he’d asked for but merely a price he’d had to pay. One that he’d been happy to at the time before he’d understood the real costs.

  He wasn’t sure quite what else had been done to him, but he’d some idea. He’d seen the scars on his chest and his heart felt odd, almost as if it was beating in two places at the same time. Nothing had been explained to him other than that he was now to follow orders. And he’d seen what happened to someone when you didn’t.

  That was when he’d really first started to have doubts. Not that he dared say anything. Marlen seemed to have some sort of presence, an authority you just didn’t question. And, of course, powers. Terrifying powers. All the men were in either fear or awe of him. Perhaps both.

  For Brig it was fear. He’d been a God-fearing man all his life and what Marlen could do was unnatural. He’d not known at the time when they met — he’d just claimed to be a surgeon with new techniques. New techniques about covered it. And now, looking at himself, Brig felt cursed. Cursed by association and by what had been done to him.

  Oh, he’d done as he was told. How could he not. He’d suffered through the kidnappings and the killings but each time it felt like a bit of himself died. And more so when he’d been actively involved. He’d never been a violent man but when in danger something uncontrolled seemed to come over him and he fought like a man with little fear. He wondered if that was how the berserkers of old had felt. Maybe Marlen had done something to his mind as well. He certainly wouldn’t have put it beyond him.

  It was the last two fights that had settled him on running. The first of the two, he’d been part of a group of four of his kind that had attacked a pair of travellers that had strayed too close. From nowhere three more men had intervened and resulted in two of his comrades being killed. That was a shock. He’d come to believe that they were nearly indestructible with the sorts of injuries he’d seen them overcome. How wrong he’d been.

  His companion had not been of the same mind as him though, rage growing by the day at their defeat, they had become almost wild, getting into a fight with some bandits. The had been enough for Brig and he ran.

  He ran but he wasn’t sure where he was going. He’d spent a day roaming the woods hiding from the world, seeking inspiration for what to do next. He wanted to go home but that was impossible now. Not now he had been changed like this. And he couldn’t endanger the family, Marlen may find him and exact revenge, make an example of him.

  So he’d found himself by a still pool in the woods. Serene and calm, it was just what he needed to centre himself and focus. He’d always had an affinity with the water and though he was a long way from the sea, the pool calmed him a little.

  He remembered that there was a town not too far to the east. One that had been founded by mariners many years before. Perhaps there was a shrine there where he could pray for guidance. Maybe that’s where he’d been heading on and off for the last day without really thinking about it?

  He washed his face and sighed. This wasn’t how he had expected his life to go. He’d been onto a good thing with the fishing now that he looked back on it. Still, couldn’t be helped now, time to go.

  Standing up, he stretched. He looked up through the branches at the sun. Used to navigating by the sky, based on the time of day he took his bearings. East. That way he thought to himself. He made to move off but stopped when he thought he heard something. Was that a horse? It was a shame Ronan wasn’t here — Marlen had done something to his ears and he would have known for sure…

  There was a whistling noise and a sudden stinging pain in his hip. He looked down and saw the arrow … oh no…
/>
  A sudden calm settled on him and he set himself. Two more arrows came out of the trees, striking his knees. His left leg gave slightly though he was still upright but moving far was now not much of an option. That left fighting. A slim man emerged from the trees, holding a bow and keeping his distance. Brig drew his sword and turned to face him. Another sting, this one in the back of his left shoulder. He looked around and saw a woman standing at the edge of the trees, spent bow in hand. He spun back to the first man just in time to see the arrow enter his right wrist. Hand now numb, the sword fell to the floor. The calm started to be washed away by anger. Perhaps this was what happened to Ronan?

  A big heavy-set man walked calmly out of the trees, holding a nasty looking mace. Brig shouted angrily at him.

  “Still some fight in you then,” the man said, approaching. Brig took a swing at him but hampered by arrows it was crude and easily avoided. The man swung the mace and the world went black.

  He came to what felt like seconds later. He was lying on the ground, bound tightly. His head throbbed but the arrows had been pulled and the wounds dressed. The rage had receded and he tried to assess the situation. What had happened? In the back of his mind there was a hint of panic.

  Brig looked around. There were five people around him. Two more men had joined his first three attackers, one medium height and one tall and black, both soldiers.

  “Who…?” he said.

  “We have some questions for you,” the medium-height man said, walking over and squatting at his side to join the big man with the mace.

  Brig’s eyes focussed on them. Wait, he was familiar. The wave of panic rose. No, it couldn’t be. The panic grew and his breath came in gasps.

  “What’s he doing?” the woman said. The tall black man walked over.