Unicorn Valley 3: Healer's Heart

by Lena Austin

  “I don’t want to run Aahz off. I’m bisexual, so it would be lying to the Pack for me to take the position. Kenalf is better for that. He only prefers other males. If they find him, he’ll be a damn good Pack Leader, assuming the madness that plagued our father isn’t hereditary.”

  Time. They needed time to find Kenalf, who often wandered outside the Valley, returning when it pleased him. Brolly was just the expedient answer for the impatient, because he was available. If Brolly weren’t available, they’d learn patience.

  That was the answer to both his dilemmas. He needed time away. He needed to go where he didn’t have to be tempted by Le-An’s face and form. Faces and forms, more accurately. Would he still love Le-An then?

  Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

  Brolly told his conscience to shut up and hopped out of bed with renewed energy. He threw a towel over his shoulder and strode toward the private bathing room he’d asked for and been granted by his father. “I’m going to go search for Kenalf and get away for a while. Maybe I’ll be able to arrive at a decision while alone.” Brolly fished his pack out from under the bed. He threw it on the mattress, and made his way to the bath. “And that means going outside the Valley.”

  * * *

  Le-An lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Oaf! What do you think you are, a satyr? Not one shred of thought for Brolly’s feelings did you have.”

  Brolly was smarter than most of Le-An’s partners. He’d remember Le-An’s age, and work it out that Le-An was immortal.

  He shut his eyes and wallowed in guilt. “I’ve robbed the cradle. Worse, I robbed my best friends’ cradle. Their son. Well, that’s not honoring the memory of departed friends.” He didn’t know if there was an afterlife, but he begged Kella and Tanne’s forgiveness for daring to love their foster son. They’d been dead less than a year, but oh, how he missed them.

  You are not exactly in the winter of your years. You are quite healthy, for one who is well over a thousand years old.

  “All those years weigh on me like some great stone, V. How do you explain that to a kid of only 300?”

  You can’t. He couldn’t comprehend it.

  “Hell, I can’t. The memories blur. I can’t tell him about my mates because I can’t remember most of them.”

  Liar. You remember the ones that really mattered, and your heart aches with loss.

  “Who’s telling this lie? I am. Leave Jon out of this.” Le-An refused to shed one more tear. The river was probably composed of most of those he’d shed over the millennia.

  Why should I? You won’t. You loved him with all your feminine heart.

  “Jon has been dead over 700 years. I should let him rest in whatever awaits on the other side of death.”

  Maybe we’ll find out someday. I’m not going to actively seek it. May I point out you have a new reason to live, in Brolly?

  Le-An stirred restlessly. “Yes. I’m going to have a long talk with Brolly as soon as possible. He needs to know. V, I’m going to tell him.”

  Silence.

  Are you sure, Le-An? You’ve never told anyone since Jon.

  “I’m sure. Hell, I’ve known him all his life. He’s unique, all that Jon was, and perhaps a bit more.” Comforted, Le-An snuggled down in the bed and breathed in air rife with the scent of what he and Brolly had done earlier. “Maybe I’ll even go back to being female once in a while. Brolly won’t mind.”

  No, he won’t object to that.

  “Good. Then we agree. Now shut up and let me sleep.”

  I’ll be here, as always.

  “I know. G’night.” Le-An fell asleep, content.

  * * *

  It was nearly dawn by his estimate when Brolly threw good, sturdy clothing into his best pack and tried to remember his one trip outside the Valley. Le-An had told him stories. Stories of how the weather had turned into something less than pleasant, like the old legends of rain and thunder. Tanne had produced a small, localized storm once, just in the meadow, and with great preparations to warn the surrounding creatures that the Great Flood was not returning.

  What a sight it had been! Hundreds of creatures, young and old, gathered to see water fall from the sky and mage lightning come not from a mage’s hand. Brolly remembered how cold and wet he’d felt. He laid a cloak beside the pack.

  “What in the name of all the gods are you doing?”

  Brolly jumped, his feet leaving the ground before he recognized Sella’s voice. She stood in the doorway, her mouth hanging open, holding a tray of his usual breakfast.

  “You look like a stranded fish, sis.”

  She closed her mouth with a snap. “Where are you going?” Her tone was carefully controlled. “What did the Pack say to you?” Sella put the tray down on the bed.

  Brolly breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know about Le-An. “They want me to fight Aahz and become Pack Leader.” He shrugged, deliberately casual. “They won’t wait until they find Kenalf.”

  Sella was a smart filly. She put things together in a flash. “Kenalf was outside. You’re going to find him.” She reached for his cloak and snatched it off the bed.

  Brolly made a grab for his cloak, but Sella whipped it out of reach. Her eyes were tender and soft. “Hang on, Brolly. I’m not stopping you. Let me put a spell on it to make it warmer and waterproof. I’ll bring it back with some food I can pack for a journey. Mother taught me. Let me help you, please?”

  He was touched by her offer, and picked up a slice of toasted bread with melted cheese to nibble on. “Will your magic work outside the Valley, Sella?”

  “I don’t know, Brolly. You know I won’t leave here. But what can it hurt to try?” She turned and carted off his cloak, returning just as Brolly put his favorite knife into a belt sheath. The cloth sack stuffed with bread and dried meat would last him a few days, but it was all he could reasonably carry.

  Sella threw the cloak over his shoulders and helped him clasp it. She whispered softly, knowing his Werewolf hearing could pick up the merest trace of sound. “I know there’s more to this journey than what you’re saying, little brother. I hope you find whatever it is you seek.”

  Brolly turned and gave her a fierce hug. “Or it finds me. I need peace and time, Sella.”

  She nodded, her eyes glistening. “You won’t find that here, if it’s not inside you already. Come on, I’ll walk you to the entrance.”

  Brolly trudged, his depression growing. He looked longingly at Le-An’s closed door as they passed. His heart ached and wished he could just run in to claim a kiss goodbye, at least.

  Sella’s soft eyes missed nothing. “I’ll take good care of your patients, Brolly. There’s no one that can’t be handled by one of the other bone and knife specialists. I’ll tell everyone you consider it your duty to go seek your brother, for the sake of the Pack.”

  Sella kissed his cheek and patted his shoulder. “Beware of humans, Brolly. You don’t understand them, other than Uncle Joshua. Remember what he told you.”

  Brolly nodded and turned to walk the short distance to the place where he’d left the Valley once before. He threw back his shoulders, and stepped forward through the veil.

  Sella watched until Brolly was out of sight. Her chin jerked once. “I don’t think so, little brother. That story about the Pack is flimsier than a butterfly’s wings. Something else happened, and I’m going to find out what. Your last patient was Le-An. I’ll start there when I bring Le-An his breakfast.”

  She marched into the kitchen and prepared a small meal. Then she brewed a mug of tea from a special jar on the shelf.

  “Why are you making a strong sleeping draught, Sella?” Mejju asked, her eyes still half-closed.

  “Because there’s a possibility what I have to say may upset one of Brolly’s patients. Le-An isn’t going to like being cooped up in that room for the next few days.”

  A sleepy chuckle followed that understatement. “You’re right. Better drug him to his eyeballs.”

  * * *

/>   Sella watched as Le-An put down his drained mug with a satisfied smack. “A fine breakfast, Sella. Much appreciated. Will Brolly be by to check on my leg later? Or is he cutting on someone else this morning?”

  “Brolly left the Valley at dawn, Le-An. I’ll be handling your care. Not that you need much more than rest until that muscle heals itself.”

  “Whaaat?”

  Sella winced at Le-An’s shout, even while her eyes glowed with satisfaction. “Now, now, Le-An. I’ve changed your bandages a thousand times. Surely you’ve not turned shy on me?” She flipped the sheet back and verified what she thought she’d smelled. “Phaugh! You need a bath too.”

  “Why? Why did he leave?”

  The anguish in Le-An’s voice broke her heart, but the best way to gain information was to pretend innocence. She pulled scissors from her apron and snipped away the stained bandage. “To look for his brother Kenalf. I understand the Pack needs him.”

  Le-An yanked at the sheet, trying to get out of bed with a desperation she’d never seen before. It took all her Unicorn magic to anchor him to the bed. She put her hands on Le-An’s shoulders and forced him to look into her eyes. The potion was beginning to work. Le-An’s eyes could barely focus.

  “You are the only one capable of going outside and living to tell the tale. But you can’t do that on a gimp leg, Le-An.”

  Le-An’s eyes were glazing, but he managed to nod. With a day’s growth of beard, and his skin white from blood loss, he looked terrible, but the heartbreak in his eyes was worse. She had to give him hope.

  “I have watched you for years, Le-An. You do something to heal yourself faster than you should. Do it, whatever it is.” She released his shoulders. “When you can walk on your own, I’ll make you the best pack I can. Then you are going on a rescue mission. Can you do that?”

  “Yes.” The slurred response was followed by a snore.

  Sella nodded, put fresh bandages on Le-An’s leg, and picked up the bucket of warm water. “Fine then. You do that. In the meantime, I’m washing the stench of sex with my little brother off you. Welcome to the family.”

  Chapter Four

  Brolly was getting used to the strange landscape. Instead of green trees, grass and flowers, he saw trees of gold and orange, little grass, and only the rare flower. The cold chilled him to the bone. Thank the Goddess the sun was rising.

  He felt his belt pouch, knowing all the food Sella had given him was gone save for a biscuit showing signs of mold. He’d tried to be sparing in the three days he’d traveled, but now he needed shelter and sustenance. He didn’t dare change to wolf and hunt. This land was occupied.

  The town below in this pocket valley was fair-sized, with many outlying farms. Perhaps someone needed healing and would exchange a meal for it. He patted his pack with satisfaction. It bulged with the herbs he’d collected.

  “I’ll be happy to hear the sound of a voice besides my own. Mayhap I’ll even try out the Latin Uncle Joshua taught me.” He shrugged his pack more firmly onto his shoulders and walked down the wide path the humans used.

  Farms, Brolly understood. Some of the Vampires had farms. A farmer waved a friendly greeting, and then ran forward, when Brolly came striding past his farm. His babbling held only a measure of Latin. Brolly sighed. At least the fellow was smiling. “Hello, good farmer. I am a healer. Would anyone need healing in exchange for a meal?”

  The farmer was much taken aback, judging by the way his eyes widened. He replied cautiously in Latin, “Brother?”

  Brother? Could this man know of his brother Kenalf? “I am Brolly.” He thumped his chest to make it clear. “I’m looking for my brother Kenalf.”

  The man was smiling again. Brolly must have said something right. He pointed to a huge building perched on the mountainside on the western side of the town. “Brothers!” He babbled some more in that pretty tongue that reminded Brolly vaguely of the Vampire immigrants’ liquid speech.

  Ah! Brolly understood two words. “Food and healers.” The man gestured again to the big edifice.

  “Thank you so much, good sir!” With a goal firmly in mind, Brolly bowed to the man and got one in return. The farmer went back to whatever work Brolly had interrupted. Brolly took the hint and started walking toward the big building. Maybe humans weren’t so bad, after all.

  His nose disabused him of that notion quickly enough. Pointing to the building and saying, “Brother!” got him past the humans guarding the entrance. The stench of the guards’ bodies was enough to wrinkle his nose, but the foul air of the path through the town made him want to gag. He soon saw why, as he narrowly avoided a pot full of excrement tossed from an upper window to the area directly in front of him. It seemed to be nothing personal, because others jumped out of the way too.

  “Hallo! Brother!”

  Brolly turned at the sound of words he understood. Hurrying toward him was a thin fellow in a brown robe. A carved silver ornament hung from his rope belt. He reminded Brolly of one of the busybodies found in any race, determined to know every detail and be involved.

  The human bowed as soon as he was reasonably in range. “Your pardon for interrupting your meditations, Brother, but I heard from the guards you were going to the abbey and couldn’t speak the local tongue. Allow me to guide you. My name is Brother Jacques.”

  Brolly breathed a sigh of relief, and bowed in return. “I am most grateful, Brother Jacques. I am Brolly, and a healer.” He patted his pack to emphasize his profession.

  Brother Jacques gave a wide smile. “Ah! You are well come, then! There is illness, and we are an ascetic order.” With that, he yanked Brolly out of danger of another pot’s contents. “Come! You’ll have a meal and we’ll see you get started.”

  That suited Brolly, as did the hearty clap on his shoulder. He went with Brother Jacques willingly. “I’m also looking for my brother Kenalf. Might he be there?”

  Jacques smiled. “It’s a big place. But we can ask, can’t we?”

  * * *

  Le-An saddled the horse he’d gotten for a small number of coins in his favorite human village. He’d travel a lot faster and hurt a lot less with this great beast. The occasional job as a mercenary had come in handy, for he knew how to ride and take care of a horse.

  Sella had made him a fine pack and included two bedrolls. She’d even taken all his leftover coins and made piles of each kind to replace what he’d lost. The small pouch on his belt contained a few of each, but the rest were stowed in clever pockets Sella made in his bedroll, clothes, and pack.

  “Merci! Merci beaucoup!” The fellow sprinted off as if he were afraid Le-An might take some coins back. No matter. Le-An had the horse, and the information that Brolly had passed by some three days ago.

  Le-An climbed awkwardly into the saddle and turned the reluctant beast toward the direction indicated by his informer.

  He grimly remembered the words of the stableman. “Oui! The curly-haired fellow took off toward Claire Veaux. Insulted, my wife was, to learn he would not stay in our inn. He ate a little food from his pack and walked by our village without a word. My daughter was disappointed, let me tell you!”

  Le-An had laughed, but not for the reason the father of the disappointed girl might think. There had been a small spurt of jealousy, and then the amusement followed. Brolly would not notice a human female, no matter how pretty of form or face. “A tragedy, to be sure. I’ll go find my cousin and see to it he returns to his mother’s bedside before she dies.”

  A small lie, but safer than to say, “I’m following my lover. I want him back!” Sweet, innocent Brolly had no knowledge of how much danger he was in if he was heading toward the Abbey of Claire Veaux.

  He spurred the horse onward.

  * * *

  Brolly nearly lost his excellent lunch at the appalling conditions the ill were forced to endure. The room was darker than he ever allowed the cavern to get. The foul stench of unwashed bodies and death completed a horrific picture.

  Hard on the heels of
the nausea came anger. He couldn’t stop the growl that rose in his throat. “Where are the healers?”

  Brother Jacques recoiled slightly from the snarl, and looked offended, but recovered his equanimity quickly. “There are none. Our brothers serve as best they can.”

  Brolly took a deep, calming breath. “Then I am the only healer? Does this make me in charge, Brother Jacques?”

  Eyeing Brolly speculatively, Brother Jacques seemed to come to a decision. “Yes. Yes, I believe that makes you in charge. Are you familiar with this plague?”

  Brolly marched to a bed near a window and threw open the shutters, nearly breaking them. He examined the very ill man carefully, noting the swollen nodes in the neck and under the arms. The fever. His sensitive ears heard the rattling in the throat that told him of danger to the lungs. “I have heard of it. I have never seen it this bad. Does it seem to start with a cough, sneezing, and a fever?”

  One of the other brothers in the room looked up and answered before Jacques could. “Yes, Brother. It does.”

  Brolly nodded, and patted the sick man’s arm. “I know you can’t understand me, but I think I can help.” He turned to the brother who had answered. “Your name, please?”

  The brother straightened from where he spooned broth into another patient’s mouth. “Andrew.”

  “Andrew, we have much to do. Gather the brothers who are brave enough to risk direct contact with the sick. I want no one who is not willing to work very hard.”

  Andrew nodded and spooned the last of the broth into his patient’s mouth. “What tasks shall we be set to, Brother uh…” His large blue eyes were eager to please.

  “I am Brolly. Some will be set to washing this room. Floor to ceiling. I want the foul straw removed, and not replaced. I want the bravest and strongest to give each of these people a bath, in the largest and warmest tubs that can be arranged.” Brolly paused. “I did not bring enough feverfew for this many. Is more available?”

  Jacques jumped in. “There is a small convent of Sisters here. I will ask for all the feverfew they have.” He sniffed in derision. “I’ll handle that. I don’t want the sisters in this place.”