Gods Of Blood And Fire (Book 1)

by A. J. STRICKLER

  Raygan looked into his eyes almost pleading. “It was a riding accident.”

  “Of course, Highness.” Rhys asked no more questions. The healer was not about to argue with royalty. “I can mix some herbs that will help with the healing and the pain.”

  “What about my face when the swelling goes down, will it be like it was?”

  “The bones were broken in your nose and there was damage to your jaw. I don’t know that I can help your appearance Highness.”

  Raygan kept herself from crying in front of the young healer, but the disappointment was all over her face.

  “Thank you, healer Morgan, I was hoping there was something that could be done.”

  The healer just shook his head. Rhys could see the look of anguish on the young Princess’s face, he had crushed her last hope.

  “I would like to retain you as my physician anyway, if you are willing.”

  “Of course, Highness, whatever you wish. I will plan to check on you tomorrow and bring the medication I talked about.”

  “You’re not from Bandara are you, healer Morgan?”

  “No, Highness, I’m from Tara.”

  “The Tyroian colony south of Greyland?” the Princess said.

  The healer’s eyebrows rose in surprised. “You’ve heard of it, Highness?”

  “Oh yes, Bishop Lyfair has mentioned it in his sermons on many occasions saying how the great faith of the Taran’s have sustained them all these years against the dreaded black slayers of Larcasia, the savage Viborg, and the rest of the nasty’s of the Harsh Coast.”

  He nodded. “The Riders of the White help some too, Highness.”

  “Yes, the knight order in Tara. The Bishop has mentioned them as well. I think I will rest now, thank you again healer Morgan.”

  “I prefer Rhys, Highness.”

  “Very well then, thank you Rhys.”

  He patted Isabella as he passed her then stopped at the door. He wasn’t sure if what he was going to say next was a mistake, but he was going to take the chance. “I might be able to help you, Highness with your face, that is.”

  Raygan painfully pushed herself back up in bed. “I thought there was nothing that could be done.” She could barely contain the excitement in her voice.

  “You have to understand I was trained by the Church like all healers are and by their knowledge and traditions there is nothing I can do. However there are things I have learned that are not taught by the Church, things that are not even condoned by the Church. I didn’t know if you would even entertain the idea.”

  “I will try anything. I don’t care if the Church likes it or not.”

  “Then you will have to trust me, and we will have to keep it just between you, me, and Isabella of course,” he said glancing at the girl.

  “You have my word, Rhys. I will do whatever it takes.”

  Isabella pulled at the healer’s sleeve, “You have my word too, Rhys.”

  He smiled at the girl and the Princess. “Then I shall return tomorrow and see what I can do. I will make no promises, Highness, but I will do my best.”

  “It’s all I can ask I will leave word at the gate so the guards will let you pass.” He nodded to them both and left.

  “Isabella, come here,” Raygan commanded.

  The girl walked over to her mistress’s bed. “Yes, my lady?”

  Even though the pain was great Raygan put her arms around the girl and pulled her close. Isabella could feel the Princess’s tears on her neck. “Thank you so much, Bella.”

  Isabella returned the hug as gentle as she could. “Why are you thanking me, Highness?”

  The Princess pushed the girl back and looked into her eyes. “For bringing me hope.”

  Rhys couldn’t sleep, he was taking a big risk using what he had learned from the old woman to help the Princess. She said she didn’t care what the Church might say, but he did. It would be his neck on the block if anyone found out.

  The few times he had used his gift people hadn’t understood its function and he had been forced to flee the town. He was most likely being a fool trying to use it on a noble, a Princess at that, but there was just something about the young woman. He wanted to please her and he didn’t know why. The Princess’s injuries were severe enough for him to tell if his skills had improved. It would be a good test. He had been practicing on animals when he could but it was not like healing a human. Rhys tossed and turned for another hour. When sleep finally found him he dreamed of the old woman and the cave.

  The next morning Rhys arrived at the palace early and was let in without any trouble. Isabella met him at the main entrance and led him to the Princess’s room. Raygan was waiting when they came in. She had Isabella put her in one of her favorite silk robes before she had gone to meet the healer.

  “Good morning, Highness.” Rhys reached in his pocket “Here is the medicine I want you to take.” He sat a large glass vial down on the ornate nightstand near her bed. “Take a spoonful in the morning and one before bed.”

  Isabella took the medicine from the nightstand. “It will be done just as you say, Rhys.”

  “I want you to lie back on the bed and just relax, Highness while I prepare.”

  “Where is your bag? You have no instruments, how do you intend to fix my face?”

  “What I will do requires no instruments, Highness.”

  Raygan looked a little bit timid. “Will it hurt?”

  “No, Highness, there should be little or no pain,” Rhys said as he knelt down beside the bed. He closed his eyes. Raygan looked at Isabella, the girl only shrugged.

  Raygan was nervous; she hoped this young healer wasn’t going to try some peculiar technique he learned from some savage on the Harsh Coast. He seemed much too intelligent for that, but one never knew.

  Rhys was still for a few minutes then he opened his eyes and touched the Princess’s nose with two fingers. Isabella stood at the end of the bed trying to get a better look.

  Raygan’s nose grew warm it and felt like it had been stuffed full with mud. There was a brief snapping sound. The Princess’s eyes watered, but there was no pain.

  Raygan saw Isabella’s eyes widen. “Bloody fucking sorcery,” the girl mouthed.

  Rhys gasped and removed his fingers from her nose.

  “Isabella, get a mirror quickly, girl.” Isabella was just staring at Rhys, not moving.

  “Bella, did you hear me? Get me the mirror,” Raygan said again. The girl handed the Princess a mirror off the dressing table, her eyes never leaving the healer.

  The Princess looked at her refection. Her smashed and crooked nose was straighter and the swelling had gone down a great deal. Some of the bruising was even gone. She was speechless.

  Isabella started looking around the room for something to hit the healer with. “He’s a damn foul wizard, my lady. We should call someone to burn him.”

  Rhys slowly got to his feet. “I’m not a wizard, Isabella.”

  “Yes you are. I just saw you magic the Princess’s nose.”

  “It wasn’t magic, it is something else. Something I learned as a boy.”

  “Isabella, calm down. I don’t care what it was it worked,” Raygan said as she looked into the mirror.

  “I assure you both, it was not magic. May I have a cup of water please, Isabella?”

  The girl folded her arms and stared at Rhys. “No.”

  “Isabella, don’t be that way, get this wonderful man some water.” The girl reluctantly nodded and fetched a cup of water from the pitcher on the Princess’s dresser.

  “How did you do it Rhys? My nose, it’s so much better. It doesn’t even hurt.”

  “It’s a long story. I will tell you sometime, but I assure you it’s not magic. It’s more of a healing art, but now you understand why I have to keep this quiet. If the Church found out I was healing people like this, I would be burning at the stake before I ever got the chance to explain it.”

  “We will keep your secret won’t we, Bella.”


  Isabella pulled her hair behind her ears. “Yes, my lady, as long as it brings no harm to you or anyone else. I will remain silent.”

  “I give you my word, Isabella, I would never harm you or the Princess or anyone else for that matter.”

  The handmaiden took a deep breath. “You helped milady, for now I will believe you.”

  “Well I’m glad you’re satisfied, Bella,” Raygan said tartly. “When can you fix the rest of me, Rhys?”

  “I must rest a while, Highness, this kind of healing taxes me a great deal, and I have to be well rested to even attempt to perform the procedure.

  If I could practice it more it wouldn’t take some much out of me. In time I hope to learn to use it more effectively.” Rhys looked at her nose, it was by no means fully healed, but he could see he was getting better at what he had been taught. “I will start on your jaw tomorrow and your ribs as well, if I can manage it. Given time I should be able to heal everything and return your looks to their previous state.”

  “Splendid, Rhys, just splendid. I will see to it you’re paid handsomely for what you’re doing for me.”

  “Thank you, Highness but just having someone who is brave enough to allow me to use my gift is payment enough. What you have done will help many of my patients in the future.”

  “That’s not enough, you saved me, Rhys, I couldn’t have went through life looking like that. You are the answer to my prayers.”

  Rhys’s face turned red at all the praise. “Thank you, Highness, I have to go get some rest now so I can be ready for tomorrow’s treatment. Take the medicine I brought. It will take some time before you’re fully healed, and the medicine will help a great deal in between the treatments. Until tomorrow then, Your Highness.”

  “Until then, Rhys, rest well.” With that the young man walked out the door, leaving Isabella with her reservations and Raygan looking into her mirror.

  Rhys was exhausted as he walked down the hall, and the young healer didn’t take much note of the older man he passed in the hall on his way out.

  Finn Selmac watched the young man slowly walk down the hall. The royal physician wondered who the man could be and what he was doing in the Princess’s chambers.

  Chapter 8

  The night was dark, Kian stood with one hundred other men overlooking a village he didn’t even know the name of. Its name didn’t matter anymore anyway. The Birds of Prey were about to descend on the small hamlet and it would be gone. He had traveled all the way to Thieves Port only to wind up back in Trimenia. K’xarr had quickly found a mercenary company for them to join when they had arrived back on the middle continent. They had not been in the city of Janus more than an hour before he was a member of the Birds of Prey. A little over two weeks later he’d found himself back in Trimenia.

  Captain Alonso Barbeau was walking down the line appraising his mercenaries. The big white plume he wore in his hat swung back and forth like the neck of a goose. Cromwell gave the man a look that told Kian he did not approve of the Celonian captain. There were few men the Toran did approve of, but he had a special dislike for Barbeau. Kian thought it might be because the man was a drunk and dressed like a fop.

  Kian couldn’t say he like the captain much either. It didn’t matter though the captain and his men had made it clear they hated the Half Elf and the whole Elven race. The captain had said those with Elven blood were worthless cowards, and Half Elves’ were well known for their lack of intelligence.

  He had refused to take Kian on at first. If K’xarr and Cromwell hadn’t spoken for him the Celonian captain would have turned him away without a second thought. The truth was Barbeau needed extra men for the attack on the rebel village and was taking on anyone that asked to join his company. So Kian had become one of the Birds of Prey for a quarter of what the other men were to be paid. He didn’t care about the coin. He was pleased that K’xarr and Cromwell had spoken well of him. That was worth more to him than any paid Barbeau could offer.

  The portly captain stopped in front of Kian as he came down the line he twisted his thin mustache and smiled. Kian could smell the wine on his breath.

  “I should have left you back with the horses, half-breed, you shouldn’t be out here with real fighting men.” This kind of treatment was nothing new for the Half Elf, the captain had taunted and belittled him since he joined up. “You’re a poor excuse for a sell-sword as I have ever seen, maybe I’ll get lucky tonight and one of those village rebels will gut you.”

  Kian stared at the captain but said nothing. The man hated him and he could do nothing about it. If he did it would ruin things for Cromwell and K’xarr, so he held his tongue.

  “Cromwell your friend is dim. I insult him and he just stands there like a pointed-eared simpleton. I heard these half-breeds were born thick headed, but at least you would think a man could anger one. Is it possible to provoke one Cromwell or are they all that slow witted?”

  Cromwell leaned down close to the captain, “I don’t know about Half Elves, Captain, but Torans anger easily.” Cromwell gazed at the captain. His deep set eyes and fierce Toran brow caused the Celonian to take an unbalanced step backwards. Barbeau gave Kian a look filled with disgust and moved on down the line. Kian grinned; he thought the big barbarian might be able to stop a charging boar with that gaze.

  “You should kill him one day, Kian, that is what he needs you to do.” Kian shook his head. Cromwell always had the same solution for every problem. Kill it. Kian just could not see the need to kill a man because they didn’t like him.

  No, he would show the captain and the rest of the men his worth tonight when they attacked the rebel village. The Trimenian Baron who had hired them said he wanted an example made of this village. Kian was not sure what that meant, but this village had started the revolt that now swept through his Barony, and he wanted the Birds of Prey to make them answer for it.

  Barbeau said that Baron Serban had told him the villagers would be armed and to expect resistance, that’s why the captain had decided to attack at night to catch them off guard. Kian didn’t like the idea of fighting people who had done nothing to him and Baron Serban was the noble that Julian said had taken his mother. Helping the noble did not set well with the Half Elf either.

  He didn’t like the idea of fighting for a man who had stolen a woman, but he had little choice but to go through with it. K’xarr and Cromwell had both spoken for him and assured Barbeau he would do his part, and he had no intention of letting his friends down. Besides even if this Baron Serban was not a good man, stopping the rebels might bring peace to the Barony. At least that’s how he tried to justify his actions to himself. It had been easy to tell right from wrong in the valley with Gildor. It was hard to understand things now that he was outside the Blue Dagger Mountains. Now some decisions were much more complicated to make than any he had faced there.

  The order was given and the mercenaries began to advance toward the village. They moved slowly at first. The hill had little cover and the ground was rocky, a man could twist his ankle easily in the dark. That danger was why the captain had decided not to use horses in the attack.

  At fifty yards the men let out a great shout and charged. The buildings of the village were just shadows in the gloom. A man on Kian’s left went down with an arrow in his throat. The villagers had been ready, he could hear arrows as they streaked by in the dark. “Archers,” he heard Cromwell shout. The warrior’s shout was little help; no one could see the barrage of arrows in the night.

  The mercenaries hit the town at a full run. The village didn’t have enough bowmen to stop the advance. It was hard to see the enemy. Kian drew his sword, but was having a hard time telling who was who in the dark. It was chaos, the screams of dying men and angry shouts filled the air.

  Kian looked left and right not knowing what to do, this was not like the battles Gildor had told him about. He was sweating, he knew that indecision would get him kill. He had to do something. As he moved to his right someone jumped on his back. He saw a
hand come around with a knife. Kian bent at the waist and flipped the attacker to the ground before the knife could strike home. He saw the outline of the attacker in the dark and plunged his sword through his opponent before the man could rise off the ground.

  As Kian pulled the blade free, fire lit up the village. A small home nearby had been set ablaze. He looked down to find he had killed a young man no more than twenty. His sightless eyes stared up into Kian’s. There was no time for remorse, no time to think. He stuck to his right and a head flew through the air. An older man in chainmail charged him with a battle ax. He blocked the blow and countered taking the man under the arm, the Elven blade didn’t stop until it hit the villager’s sternum. Time seemed to slow down for Kian as man after man went down before his cunning blade. Blood covered his black leather armor, making it shine in the glow of the fire light. It had been hundreds of years since any human had faced an Elven warrior with Kian’s ability.

  He caught sight of Cromwell a few yards ahead fighting near one of the burning buildings. Bodies littered the ground all around the massive warrior. The Toran was so focused on the enemy in front of him that he did not see the man running up from behind with a spear held low.

  Kian covered the ground quickly. He reached out as far as he could and brought his sword down with all the force he could. He cut the shaft of the man’s spear in two just before it could plunge into Cromwell’s back.

  Kian’s momentum carried him passed the spearman. Cromwell turned in time to see Kian go passed, and the villager holding nothing but a spear shaft in his hands. The Toran smiled, realizing what had happened, then swung his two-handed sword over his head. There was a look of surprise on the villager’s face as the sword came down and split his skull down to the teeth.

  The big man grabbed Kian by the arm and pulled him over next to him. “Stay behind me.” The two men stood back to back, looking for the next attack, but none of the villagers would dare approach them. The bodies lying at their feet dissuaded them from testing the skill of the two warriors.