by Lena Austin
Unicorn Valley 3: Healer’s Heart
Lena Austin
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2004 by Lena Austin
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Chapter One
The arrow sang out of the bushes with no warning, giving Le-An no time to writhe out of its way. He went down, the arrow cutting into the thick muscle of his thigh. Dammit, he was only perhaps half an hour’s walk from home. It was the last truly coherent thought he had before his head connected with the small boulder he’d been skirting.
Three men stepped out of the bushes, the archer still unstringing his bow. Their knives held a silent threat. Dazed, and with his head throbbing in time with his thigh, Le-An tried desperately to clear his head. The greasiest of the three bent over and removed Le-An’s belt pouch, containing a few worthless coins. The youngest of the bandits fingered his knife. “Should we slit this foreigner’s throat?”
The greasy one waved a hand. “Nah! He’ll die out here anyway. Save the edge of your knife.”
The French language barely registered in Le-An’s mind. They could have the silly little disks of metal. They were unimportant.
The archer reached for his arrow embedded in Le-An’s thigh and twisted. Le-An’s cry of pain was enough to have the first two turning back. “Leave it, Egon,” ordered the younger. The sound of snapping wood was barely audible compared to the agony. The roaring in his ears drowned out all sound.
“Gaah! Damn. I broke the arrow anyway.” Egon threw down the broken shaft and stomped off after his friends.
Le-An lay where he’d fallen. The boulder made an uncomfortable pillow, but he would live yet another day. Dammit. He didn’t want to live anymore. He was tired. Couldn’t he just lie there and bleed away his life force?
The tingle of magic on his skin told him he would live, like it or not. He was too close to home. “Dammit, V! Can’t you just let me go?”
You were an innocent victim, Le-An. Now we are tied, you and I. Is life so unbearable?
Le-An sighed and began the long crawl toward home. “I’m lonely, V. So very lonely.”
Bored, too. I’m sorry about that. I can’t be more to you than a friend.
Le-An got to the top of the next small hillock before he had to stop and rest again. His temple was bleeding freely, and he was dizzy. He threw up the remains of a perfectly good breakfast.
Come on, Le-An. Just a bit further.
“You always say that.”
You always insist on leaving my protections. Did you at least get laid?
Busybody, he thought. “No. The one human female who sells sex for coin in that village had her moon time. But she was nice to me anyway, and fed me a meal.”
Which you just lost on the hill. Come home, Le-An. I’m calling the healers.
Le-An forced his body back to crawling. The magic grew stronger every few feet. His leg stung abominably when he inadvertently used it.
He passed out from the pain three times before he finally crawled up the top of the last rocky hill. The walk that normally took him a short time had taken him nearly all morning. Even the sweet scent of the grass didn’t ease the agony of his head.
You’re a mess.
“Thanks. Should I go find a stream and drown myself to get cleaned up before the healers find me?”
Sarcasm will get you nowhere. Roll down the hill, Le-An. My protections start there.
Aw, harpy shit. Le-An could barely crawl, and V wanted him to roll? “I know. But if I roll, I’ll hurt this leg more.”
I’m hoping so. If we’re lucky, you’ll pass out again.
“That sounds like a lovely plan. Cause me enough pain to go unconscious?” Despite his words, Le-An took a deep breath and began to roll, screaming in pain.
Inside his head, the cool, unchanging voice continued. I’ll see to it that you remain unconscious while Brolly gets that arrowhead out.
“Brolly? No!” Le-An hit the bottom, and kept rolling, passing out when he made it through the shields into the Valley of the Unicorns.
* * *
“Brolly!” The slam of the trapdoor opening followed the sweet voice of one of his sisters.
He ignored her clattering descent down the ladder to the stillroom. He was in the middle of a task he couldn’t cut short. The sharp smell of vinegar filled his sensitive nose and made him want to sneeze desperately, but he didn’t dare waste one drop of the precious bruise potion as he poured it into the special bottle. It took an entire moon for the vinegar to steep the wormwood into the nasty brown liquid that eased a sore bruise so effectively.
Juel stuck her head in the door, her lavender eyes wide. “It’s Le-An again. Arrow in the left thigh. They’re cleaning him up. Gilly is keeping him asleep.”
Brolly blew out an exasperated breath. “Still in male human form, is he?” He corked the bottle of potion.
Juel flipped her purple hair over her shoulder, her horn button flashing in the mage lights. She began to dump the used wormwood out of the cheesecloth as if she’d been the one using the stillroom all along.
“Yes.” She frowned. “Brolly, is Le-An suicidal? Lately he spends all his time in male form, and goes outside the Valley often. I’m getting tired of patching him up.”
Brolly grinned. “So maybe we should just assign him a room and a healer permanently?” He washed his hands carefully at the fountain. Wormwood was poisonous if swallowed or applied to open wounds.
“Might be worthwhile. You Werewolves and Vampires have to be tired of sewing up his wounds, and the constant surgeries to remove foreign objects. Now go! They’ve probably got him ready by now. Go make a bloody mess.” She shuddered delicately.
Brolly laughed and went upstairs to the room kept especially for blood and bone work. Le-An’s naked form, shining clean, waited on the polished stone slab. One of his Vampire helpers brought him a large bowl of redwort to wash his hands again. Another helper stained Le-An’s leg with the infusion. The sharp, acrid odor of redwort filled the air.
Brolly himself covered Le-An’s naked body with linen, and then nodded to Gilly to set the warming spell on the stone a bit higher. “His skin is still chilly,” he explained when Gilly raised an eyebrow.
As Brolly inspected his knives and dipped one in redwort, he flushed as red as the solution. For any other being in the Valley, Brolly was like a statue when it came to noticing the naked state of his patients. However, Le-An’s nude body, even unconscious, heated Brolly’s desire like no other could. Covering that well-muscled form was pure self-defense.
Gilly placed a delicate finger on Le-An’s forehead. “He’s still out cold, but I put on a strong sleep spell just in case.”
“Thank you, sis. What I would do without my Unicorn aide, I don’t know.” Brolly put on an overcoat to protect his clo
thes from blood. Gilly tied a cloth around his forehead, to keep sweat from dripping into his eyes or into the patient.
“You’d make a poppy potion. Now get to work. He’s still bleeding there.” She gave him a small shove and went back to sit near Le-An’s head to monitor the sleep spell.
Quickly and efficiently, Brolly and his helpers removed the arrow with as little damage to the muscle as possible. Brolly dropped the arrowhead into a bowl. For some morbid reason, Le-An liked to keep the things. It would be washed and saved for the collection.
While the Vampires stitched the wound closed, Brolly examined Le-An’s head wound. It was already closing, now that it was cleaned. The redwort stain made it look worse than it was. He bandaged the wound and the helpers took Le-An to a room to sleep off the spell Gilly had laid.
Brolly kept his head high as he walked out of the room. It wasn’t his turn to clean, for which he was grateful. Gilly had disappeared as soon as she was no longer needed. He didn’t blame her. All the Unicorns and Elves who worked at the healing facility hated the sight of blood, but their abilities with magic came in handy enough that they tried to overcome their dislike.
Brolly trudged down the hall, turning down the darkened corridor until he came to his private workroom. There, he removed the bloody overcoat and threw it in the basket kept just outside the door. He sat at his desk and pulled his journal from the bookshelf. When his notations were done on Le-An’s latest surgery, he sprinkled a little sand on the ink and blew it dry.
Now he could rest. He laid his head down on his desk. He really should go up to the kitchen and beg for a bite or two to eat, but he was so tired. He just needed a minute.
“Just as I thought! Here!”
The brisk feminine voice jolted Brolly upright. His sister Sella plopped a tray down on his desk. The savory scent of boar made Brolly’s mouth water.
Sella smiled as Brolly reached for the bread and meat. She’d always mothered him in place of having colts of her own. “Don’t think I’m being altruistic. I’m feeding you here because there’s a delegation from your Pack upstairs. They are fidgeting but silent. And…”
“The day Werewolves are silent, they want something. I wonder what?”
Shrugging, Sella manifested two mugs of tea and shoved one toward Brolly. “Got me, Furface. It must be something big for them to come seek out a lone wolf like you. You aren’t even the only Werewolf healer, just the most skilled.”
He wanted to laugh. When was the last time he got such a backwards compliment? Brolly sipped his honey-laced tea to hide his grin. “Well, thank you, Sella. That puts a pin in my ego.”
“Cutting your phenomenal ego down to size is just one of the many services I provide.” Sella smirked. “I haven’t seen Shadow or Lionel in ages, not since the last time Lionel brought in the cubs when they had colds.”
The sandwich gone, Brolly wiped his mouth with the cloth provided. He stood and grimaced. “There’s only one way to find out what the Pack wants. Was old Aahz with them?”
“No, and that’s the strangest part of all. Why isn’t the Pack Leader handling this?”
Sella sailed out of the room with the tray before he could answer, even if he had an answer.
Brolly shrugged and put on his best healer smile, as serene as he could make it, considering he was tired and wanted nothing more than the cool peace of the stillroom. He walked with calm deliberation to the main cavern, where five wolves lounged in the out of the way corner reserved for visitors.
As soon as they saw him, all stood and loped outside, checking over their shoulders to make sure he followed.
“Oh, like that, is it?” Brolly grumbled a moment, and then changed to lupine form.
His Pack Mates waited in the meadow, tails wagging. Brolly was shocked when he got a good look and realized one of his visitors was the Alpha Bitch, Grisa. From her swollen belly, she was pregnant again. He made the proper obeisance, sniffing noses with her before romping briefly with the others to establish the pecking order.
Grisa waited patiently, tongue lolling out. When all was settled, Brolly sat and waited. The others took positions in a friendly fashion all around him. Grisa wasted no time in coming to the point. “Brolly, we have a population problem in Pack Lands.”
That was stating the obvious. Brolly looked pointedly at her round belly, and commented, “The Pack Leaders must stop covering all the bitches. The danger is not so great, right now, but any further births will soon cause hunger and territory fights.” Brolly got up to pace back and forth before Grisa. He needed to move. This wasn’t gossip. What did they want?
Grisa nodded, but her ears pinned back slightly. “I know, Brolly. It seems such a simple solution, doesn’t it? Most of the Pack Leaders have agreed to this. We bitches have agreed to seek matings outside the Pack when heat is upon us.” She seemed almost resigned. Well, no one had to like the solution.
Brolly tilted his head to one side. “Most Pack Leaders? All must agree, if the situation is to stop. And why are you coming to me with this? I don’t cover any bitches, nor am I mated.”
One of the younger members lifted his head. “That’s precisely why we came to you, Brolly. You don’t cover bitches.”
Grisa shot him a look, and he subsided. Then she sighed. “As you well know, Brolly, it is no crime to prefer your own gender. In times like these, it is helpful that some don’t mate at all.” She looked down at the grass for a moment. “We need you, Brolly. Aahz is the holdout that will not agree. He fears, I think, living alone.”
Brolly was so stunned, he couldn’t move. He heard all that Grisa did not say, and didn’t have to. If Aahz would not step down, he would have to be killed or driven out. Brolly closed his eyes in horror. They were asking him to do this, and become Pack Leader. Because they thought he didn’t care for covering a bitch.
It wasn’t true. Rather than get into his personal life, though, he had other objections. Gods, he had a thousand.
He cleared his throat, and opened his eyes to see the sadness in Grisa’s eyes.
“I’ve howled to the Moon Goddess for weeks now, Brolly. I don’t make this request lightly.” Grisa quelled a whine from one of those in the group with a soft growl. “I’ll go into exile with Aahz, if you can manage it. You and your brother Kenalf are the only two who prefer males, and Kenalf hasn’t been seen in many moons.”
Kenalf would be better suited to the task. Large, strong, and a natural leader, Kenalf had left the Pack rather than fight Aahz. “I assume you’ve left word you are looking for him?” Brolly cleared his throat, and dared bring up his family shame. “Our father…”
Grisa’s eyes turned stern. “Was a good Pack Leader, before he went mad. Don’t try to use him as an excuse to get out of doing your duty, Brolly.” She looked at the others who watched attentively. “We represent a cross-section of all the Pack, from young to old, so you would know all are in agreement. We want you, or Kenalf.”
Brolly turned as the others nodded their heads. His jaw dropped, and he felt his tail droop. “I… I need time to think. You’re asking me to give up everything.” He’d never be able to heal again if he managed the Pack. He’d never be able to go find a happy roll with another male. There’d be only duty.
Grisa heaved herself to her feet. “I understand, Brolly. I know what we ask of you is nothing less than destroying your life as you know it now. We have no choice. None of us. If you can figure out a way to prevent internecine warfare between the Packs over choice prey and hunting, I’d be glad to hear of it.”
She took herself off to the woods, with the rest of the wolves following, and left Brolly standing in the meadow, torn between love and duty.
Brolly turned and walked slowly back to his beloved healing hospice. How could he destroy his whole life? Who would understand what he was? One face floated to the surface of his churning mind, and it was the one person he feared to be alone with.
Chapter Two
Brolly was hit with several conflicting emoti
ons as he hesitated in the doorway. Le-An sat in his bed, propped up by several cushions, reading the old herbal journal.
Le-An was a handsome male, even with a bandage on his head that made him look like some sort of barbaric human. Brolly felt the tightening in his groin and knew it was futile to tell it to behave. Rather than show his unreasoning lust for his mother’s friend, Brolly moved away from the door and leaned against the wall.
Le-An was an enigma wrapped in a mystery that no one knew the full answers to. Le-An remained fully in the prime of life, despite a history in the Valley that went back hundreds of years. By all rights, Le-An should be a grizzled and bent old fellow, not a strong, muscular, and -- may the Gods forgive me! -- extremely desirable male.
Le-An was in truth neither male nor female, but both. That made things worse for Brolly. Brolly desired both sexes, with a small preference for males. Le-An blithely changed forms, going from male to female on a whim, or as needed for any task. Brolly had watched Le-An perform that shift with envy, curiosity, and a certain lust, a thousand times as Le-An-the-female played with Brolly’s many foster brothers and sisters, then turned to male for swordplay lessons the next hour. The desire Brolly felt was equal for both Le-An’s human forms.
It’s obscene to lust after one who helped raise you.
No matter how many times he admonished himself, nothing changed. Now, Le-An might be the only being in the Valley that could help him. Brolly sagged against the wall and prayed to the Goddess for strength.
“Brolly, I can smell you out there. Come on in and stop lurking around the corner. You act as if you’ve done something wrong.”
Gods, did Le-An have to have a voice as smooth as fine Elven wine? Brolly sighed and straightened his tunic. You are the senior healer here, you idiot. Act like a Werewolf jack, not like a man. He threw his shoulders back, and strode in the door like he was Pack Leader instead of a lone Werewolf.
“Sorry, old friend. I was using the wall outside your room to rest my weary body for a few moments. The cool stone felt good.” Brolly lifted Le-An’s wrist and felt the steady pulse.
