The Dragon Healer: The Eldrasian Chronicles, #1

Chapter one

Elinta woke to the fierce howling of wind and heavy patter of rain slamming into the roof above her and pulled her blankets close against the cool night air. A noise had woken her from a deep sleep, a different sound sitting under the wind, just low enough that she couldn’t quite place it. She lay listening for a moment, wondering what it could be. Then, when the wind died down between gusts, the sound rose above the storm. Low, nervous whinnies, and, above them, a squeal she recognised instantly as belonging to the new stallion. Throwing back her blankets, Elinta rifled around in the dark for her clothes, stumbling over her bed and the neat rows of bandages that she’d folded for Galen earlier. A clap of thunder like the rumble of a large beast shook the house. Elinta laughed at the thought. There once was a day when it could have belonged to a monster. But that was a long time ago.

Elinta! Blaine’s voice rose above the rain, along with a series of loud knocks on her door.

I’m coming! she yelled, slipping out of her nightdress and into a pair of pants and a shirt. Pulling on an old jacket, she opened the door to find her brother soaked to the bone and windswept, hair flattened against his face, standing in the doorway. Water dripped down his large overcoat and onto the wooden floor. His brow was crinkled in worry.

What’s happened? she asked.

The stallion got into the front paddock and bit one of the mares near the shoulder. He’s torn a large chunk from her. And the older bay has hurt her leg. Blaine pushed a hand through his dripping blond hair. I’ve got to get back down there. Father’s having trouble with the new stallion. He doesn’t like the storm.

As if to emphasise his point, another squeal echoed up from the stables.

Elinta ran back into her room, grabbed her satchel of herbs and cloths and tugged on her work boots. Let’s go.

They hurried from her room, the sound of their steps on the wooden flooring lost under the renewed gusts of wind and rain. Stopping by the front door, Blaine turned to her.

Ready? He reached for the handle.

The wind howled once again, louder than before, and rain hammered against the door. Elinta nodded, pulling her jacket tightly around her, the satchel hanging from her shoulder. Blaine shoved the door open, and they dashed out into the night. Freezing drops of water instantly soaked through her hair, and a burst of wind chilled her to the bone. Tucking her head down, Elinta followed her brother’s strong figure in a run towards the stables, sloshing through deep, muddy puddles and fighting to keep her feet under her. Through the heavy haze of rain, she could see the dim light of a lantern shining through the open door of the stables. She pulled her jacket even more tightly around her, but it did little to block the chill. Blaine picked up the pace as the stables loomed over them and they burst inside.

What took so long?

Turning, Elinta found her father firmly gripping the halter of the chestnut stallion who tugged away from his arm, ears back and eyes wide in terror. The animal snorted and kicked at the ground. Blaine hurried to take the halter and lead rope from their father, who stood an inch shorter than him but was just as muscled.

This way, their father said gruffly to Elinta, grabbing a lantern from a hook on the wall.

Elinta followed him, wringing the water out from her hair. Passing several rows of closed stalls and earning themselves nervous whinnies and a nicker of greeting, Elinta’s father led her to the back of the stables.

How long since they were hurt? Elinta called over the wind, tying her sodden blonde hair back from her face.

Her father shrugged. Looks only recent but could be up to an hour. I knew I should have brought those three in for the night. He pointed to the two end stalls on the right and handed her the lantern. They’re in there.

Stepping lightly up to the door, she found the palomino mare turned into the back corner, water still dripping from her coat. The bite Blaine had mentioned wasn’t in sight.

Hey girl, Elinta called, watching as the mare’s ears twisted towards her voice.

Slipping inside, she placed her hand on the horse’s rump and pushed her around and away from the wall. The flickering light of the lantern slid over the bite as it came into view. The stallion had left a wound about half the size of her fist, but it wasn’t as bad as Blaine had thought. Blood trickled down the mare’s shoulder before mingling with the water in her coat and turning the hair a pale reddish-pink.

Do you need Galen? Her father called over the storm, referring to Elinta’s master.

She studied the wound. The stallion’s teeth had cut into the shoulder, but the damage seemed limited to the soft flesh. She shook her head, rubbed the mare’s neck, and hurried back to her father.

It looks worse than it is. It won’t take long to treat. She hung the lantern off a hook on the back wall above head height and started rifling around in her satchel.

Are you sure you can handle it? her father said.

When will he stop questioning me?

Elinta bit her lip. Rather than responding straight away, she started pulling out cloths and jars of salve. She’d been an apprentice to Galen, the best healer in the village, since she was thirteen. That made it three years now.

Choosing her words carefully, Elinta said, Yes. I’ve dealt with a lot worse.

With Galen.

There was no room for arguing, even though he was wrong. She had dealt with much worse, without Galen and even with the horses before. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that he just wanted the best for the animals.

Is the bay in the next stall? Elinta asked.

Her father grunted in response, which Elinta took to mean yes. Retrieving the lantern and leaving her supplies by the door, Elinta stuck her head into the next stall. The other mare was waiting expectantly for her as the soft light of the lantern chased away the shadows. She nickered softly, ears flicking to listen to the storm, Elinta, and her father, but she appeared entirely relaxed. Elinta smiled at the old horse’s docile nature. Nothing seemed to worry her.

Stepping inside the stall and absently rubbing the mare’s muzzle, Elinta searched for any sign of a wound, but her left legs were fine. She ducked under the mare’s neck and scanned her other legs.

Ah, she said softly, finding a nick on the bay’s lower back leg just above the fetlock. About the length of her little finger, the cut was shallow but continued to weep a small stream of blood.

I don’t see any inflammation, she said, checking the rest of the leg. Twisting, she placed the lantern on another hook, then ran both hands along the mare’s leg to feel the muscles and tendons. Or feel anything.

No, the leg’s moving fine.

That lined up with what Elinta was feeling, or rather, wasn’t feeling. The cut hadn’t damaged anything internally.

She looks like she’ll be fine. Elinta patted the horse’s neck. I’ll see to her after the palomino and check on them both again tomorrow.

Her father nodded. I’ve got to finish checking on the others, he said, then abruptly turned on his heel and disappeared. Elinta watched her father stride back to the front of the stables and sighed. If only he was as good with people as he was with horses. She shook her head and turned back to the bay, wrapping a piece of cloth around her leg.

I’ll be back, she said and left the stall. The wind had finally started to abate, though the rain continued to pound on the roof. Elinta fetched a halter and lead rope and went into the other stall.

The palomino had turned to watch Elinta working in the neighbouring stall and softly blew as Elinta entered with all her supplies.

Hi girl, she said, replacing the lantern on the hook. You gonna talk to me now?

The mare shifted in place, ears twitching.

Elinta sidled up beside the mare and slipped the halter over her muzzle and into place before tying the lead rope near the door.

Are you going to be nice for me, girl? Elinta asked softly, fetching the supplies she’d left out. The mare didn’t move, so she took that as a good sign. Elinta set to cleaning the wound, stopping regularly to reassure the mare, who shifted and tossed her head uneasily with each attempt to flush it. She covered the bite in one of Galen’s special salves for infection and inflammation. Orange-yellow in colour, the salve came from flowers in the north that Galen bought. Rubbing the remaining salve from her hands onto her pants, she bent to pick up her supplies.

Do you need any help?

Elinta jolted in surprise and twisted towards the voice. Blaine!

The rain must have hidden his footsteps because she hadn’t heard him approach. Her brother leant on his arms against the waist-high stall door, a grin spreading across his wet face. Sorry.

Elinta rolled her eyes and gestured to the mare. I’m finished with her, but you can hold the bay still for me, if you want?

Come on. He pulled the door open and stood aside for her.

Elinta took the halter and rope off the palomino, slung it over her shoulder, grabbed the last jar from the floor, the lantern from the hook, and followed her brother into the next stall.

Blaine slipped the tack from her hand and had the bay in position within seconds. She’s a good old girl. He gently patted the mare’s neck.

She is, Elinta agreed.

She set about flushing the cut while Blaine talked to the docile mare. The mare was naturally so calm that Blaine’s presence wasn’t needed, but he stayed anyway while Elinta worked. When the bleeding had stopped, Elinta opened the jar of orange-yellow salve, but their father reappeared by the stall before she could apply it.

How’s it coming? he grunted. The light of the lantern hardly reached him, hiding his features almost completely from view. She could just make out the soft glow of his green eyes and the shadow of his salt and pepper beard.

Fine. Elinta turned her back to him and bent to cover the wound in the salve.

She’s doing great, Blaine said.

And the mare?

She’ll be fine. Elinta kept her face turned away to hide her irritation. Both of them.

Check over the stallion when you’re done, will you?

Sure.

Their father left without another word. After covering the cut with a thin, breathable cloth, Elinta straightened, wiping her hands on her pants.

All done, she said, patting the mare.

Blaine slipped the tack from the mare’s head and hung it outside the stall. Rubbing the mare’s neck on her way out, Elinta smiled gratefully. If only all the horses were as calm as her.

The mare nickered softly as they walked away from the stall, taking the light with them.

She’s a good one. Good mother too, Blaine agreed. I’ll hold the stallion for you. He’ll have settled now the wind has died down. Her brother picked up his pace and turned into another stall. Elinta left the lantern on another hook to the side of the stall where the stallion couldn’t kick it. It cast just enough light to see the horse.

Come on in, Blaine called softly, just loud enough to be heard over the rain.

Elinta slipped through the door. The stallion’s ear twisted to follow her as she moved around him, checking over his body for any bruising or cuts, but he stood perfectly still, at ease by Blaine’s presence. Running her hands along the horse’s legs, chest, and back, Elinta had a moment to be thankful for her brother’s talent with the horses, because the stallion wouldn’t have been as calm for her, or even their father.

Well, she said, stepping back. He’s fine.

Blaine rubbed the animal’s muzzle. He was pretty riled up by the storm when we got down here.

Leaving the stall with her gear and taking down the lantern, Elinta smiled at her brother. He obviously calmed right down when you took over from father.

Blaine hesitated, then nodded, following her out of the stall.

Have you said anything about Culmar to him yet? Elinta asked, instinctively lowering her voice even though their father had left. Blaine wanted to set up his own business in Culmar, doing the same breeding, training, and farrier work as their father did, but in the port city instead.

No, Blaine said, scuffing his shoe as he walked. I don’t know how he’ll take it, since I’d be moving the business there once he hands it over.

You know it’s a better place to be, Elinta said encouragingly. And so does he. Even if he’s never made the move, he’s still had to travel to Culmar for better stock.

Blaine grinned. Maybe you can make the argument for me, eh?

Her eyes widened. I don’t think so.

They continued towards the main door in silence. Elinta watched Blaine from the corner of her eye. Even though he was four years older than her, he was her closest friend in the village, and she believed in him as much as he believed in her. If he wanted to go to Culmar, she’d support him even if it meant he’d be far away.

Pausing in front of the door, Blaine turned to her. I am going to go. Just once I know where he stands on it, and if he needs me here, I can always make the move once he retires.

Elinta nodded at the familiar argument, then cocked her head, listening to the rain outside. It hadn’t eased since they’d run down from the house.

Let’s go, Blaine said before they could change their minds.

Oh, wait! She was still carrying the lantern. Elinta blew out the flame, casting them into shadow, and hung the lantern on the hook by the door. Ready.

Blaine threw open the door and ran into the night.

Following her brother, Elinta gasped as the cold water slammed into her body, plastering her hair against her face and trickling under the collar of her jacket within seconds. They sprinted back towards the house, kicking up even more mud than before and splashing through deep puddles of water. Firelight radiated through the front windows of the house. Elinta smiled gratefully at the thought of her father lighting a fire to heat the three of them up. She tucked her head down against the rain and ran harder.

Blaine reached the house first and ran inside, closing the door behind her when she joined him. They stood in the entryway, dripping onto the floor as a wave of heat and the smell of burning wood hit them from the living room. Peeling off her jacket and boots and leaving them in a pile by the door, Elinta hurried over to the fire. Their father was nowhere to be seen. Elinta looked around the house as Blaine, also out of his overcoat and boots, joined her by the fire. Their father’s bedroom door was closed. He'd gone back to bed.

Elinta wrung out her hair, freely letting it drip onto the floor. Despite the coat she’d worn, her shirt was wet, as were her pants, so she stood as close to the flames as she dared to stop the shivering that had crept up on her. Beside her, Blaine stripped off his wet shirt and laid it on the floor.

Cold, he grumbled.

Elinta murmured in agreement, her teeth chattering. I’ll be back.

Hurrying to her bedroom, she stripped out of her wet clothes, pulled on her dry nightdress, and slung a blanket over her shoulders, careful not to trap her wet hair under it. Now, much dryer and much warmer, she went back to the fire. Blaine eyed her blanket.

Oh no, she said, looking at his wet form. You’re not sharing my nice, dry blanket.

Please, Lin? he asked, shivering.

Go put a shirt on! That’s why you’re cold. She pulled her blanket tighter around herself.

He frowned. It’s too cold to leave the fire.

Then run, she said stubbornly.

You’re horrible, he said, but he smiled anyway and ran off to find a fresh shirt.

Moments later, Blaine returned in dry clothes and Elinta let him huddle under the blanket with her. His blond hair was now starting to dry, though Elinta’s own still hung in wet clumps past her shoulders.

You smell like wet hay, she said, inhaling the smell of the wood-smoke from the fire and Blaine’s own scent of hay underlined by leather and the tang of horse.

So do you. He bumped her shoulder. After a pause, he spoke again, Mum would be proud of you, you know.

You think? Elinta asked, trying to summon a picture of their mother in her mind. But most of her memories were second-hand, given to her by Blaine, who’d been seven when she died.

I do. You’re good at what you do, Lin, he said softly.

So are you.

When the fire finally began to die down, the two went their separate ways and were back in their own beds just as the rain died back to a light shower. Tucked up in her blankets, Elinta rolled over and drifted back to sleep.

The light of the morning revealed the damage caused by the storm. As she walked through the village to Galen’s hut, apron in hand, Elinta lifted the hem of her blue, ankle-length dress dodging puddles of water and trenches of mud. The people around her picked up knocked over signs and cleared away litter and branches that had blown through the wide streets in the storm. There didn’t seem to be any major damage to the buildings she passed by, which likely meant there would be very few injuries, if any.

Elinta nodded greetings to those she passed on the street; some she had treated before, others she passed every day on her way to the healer’s place. It was a bright, warm morning already, at odds with the cold of the night before, and Elinta was already thinking of the patch of sun waiting for her by the herb garden, which would warm up her bones. She turned off the main street and walked down a pathway weaving through the wooden houses and was cast into shadow. Just as she drew level with a small building with four cramped windows facing out onto the street, a tiny frame burst out in front of her.

Tully! Elinta caught the girl just before they collided.

Sorry, Elinta! Tully grinned up at her from under a mess of dark hair, fingering the satchel slung across her shoulder and chest.

Brynne’s got you running around pretty early today. Elinta dropped her hands from the girl’s shoulders and nodded to the bag Tully still fiddled with. More deliveries?

Brynne was the only other healer in the village and had enlisted Tully to run errands for her while she started training her new apprentice. Tully was hopeful she’d be picked once she was old enough. The girl nodded. Mr. Ivors needed something for a toothache. He was very insistent.

Elinta smiled. Can you tell me what Brynne would have prescribed? she quizzed, knowing the girl’s enthusiasm to learn.

Tully scrunched up her face. Flowers from the evening vine, she said triumphantly.

Nodding, Elinta asked her how Mr. Ivors would have taken it.

He just has to chew it. She grinned toothily at Elinta.

That’s right. I better watch out for my job! You’re getting good. Elinta laughed. You better get going before you get in trouble.

Tully gave her another big smile, then ran off down the path in the direction Elinta had come from. Elinta watched the little girl as she disappeared around the corner. All arms and legs and a huge amount of enthusiasm. If she kept absorbing knowledge the way she was, Brynne would pick her up as soon as she finished with her new apprentice.

Elinta continued down the path to the outskirts of the village where Galen’s hut sat. The forest loomed behind it, just a short walk through the grasslands. Knowing Galen probably hadn’t risen yet, Elinta slipped around the back of the hut and to the herb garden. Bursting with as many medicinal herbs as would grow in a village garden, it contained a large percentage of the herbs that they needed to treat most common, and a large portion of uncommon, sicknesses and injuries. The rest of the herbs and plants could be found in the forest or ordered through the traders who worked their way through the villages, towns, and cities of Eldras. Kethmere wasn’t a huge village, but it was a common stop for traders moving through the south of the continent.

Tying the apron around her waist and pulling up the hem of her work dress, she knelt on the ground before the nearest garden bed and set to work. The storm had knocked some of the plants over, so she retied them to their stakes and tidied any damage. There wasn’t much to be done after that, as she did a little work on the beds each day, but she let her mind wander as she soaked up the warm sun while weeding the bed and trimming the plants. It was her love of gardening that had singled her out to Galen from among the applicants for the apprentice position. Galen said that her already having a good knowledge of plants and a little sketchbook full of drawings of ones she’d discovered had done half the work for him, so he’d taken her on earlier than most apprentices. He’s a good teacher, she mused, running her hands over the leaves of the young evening vine growing along a trellis. And a good healer.

Elinta! Galen’s harsh voice sounded from inside, causing her head to snap up. Always one to skip formalities. No doubt he already had a job for her.

Yes, Master Galen? she called over her shoulder, continuing to work in the garden bed.

We’re out of black disc fungi. Go get some once you’re finished in the garden, his voice returned, much closer than before. Elinta sat back on her heels and twisted, finding his thin frame in the entryway of his hut.

OK. She paused, picturing the jars along the shelves lining the hut. She’d checked over them before finishing yesterday. I think we’re nearly out of weeping bark as well, sir? Should I get some more?

Galen waved his hand. No. It was a good thought, but I would have told you to get some if we needed it.

Elinta nodded and turned back to the garden. He’d probably send her to get some of the bark in a few days anyway. She finished by tugging out the last of the weeds sprouting up around the calendula, careful not to disturb its delicate roots. She brushed her finger against one of its soft petals and smiled. It was a sweet little flower, useful too.

She pushed off from the ground, dusted her hands on her apron and hurried back inside, ducking under the herbs hanging from the roof to dry. She paused at the entrance to let her eyes adjust and, slowly, the simple interior came into view. Galen sat at his desk in the corner, his grey hair hiding his face as he poured a thick paste into one of the many empty jars sprawled across the surface in front of him. A basket waited for her beside the front entry. Elinta crossed the room, picked it up, and hesitated. She quickly scanned the various jars of herbs, pastes, salves, and tonics, certain the weeping bark needed filling.

Elinta … Galen said softly, but there was a warning in his voice.

Just going now, sir. Without a backwards glance, Elinta stepped out into the morning sun and waded into the grasslands behind the house.

She pushed her way through the thick tussocks, grasses tickling at her elbows as she passed. Elinta beelined for the small path carved into the grassland by the rare traffic of the odd villager looking for wood and food. Elinta was the main contributor since she regularly walked to the forest for Galen. She emerged onto the path and flicked away some stray pieces of grass caught in the skirt of her dress and clinging to her apron. The path was, unsurprisingly, deserted. It was rare to come across anyone on her trips to collect herbs. Just the way she liked it.

Elinta followed the path, idly swinging the basket in her hand and enjoying being outside with no one looking over her shoulder. Herbs and healing were the one thing she was good at. She didn’t need supervision so much anymore, especially since she was nearly ready to be on her own permanently. As in, full time. An actual healer. A flutter of nerves hit her stomach, but she pushed them away as she stopped in the long thin shadows cast by the forest. A soft gust of wind blew the sweet, yet sickly, smell of decaying leaves across her face. She inhaled deeply. Smelling the freshness of the dirt and the leaves after the storm.

Smiling, she stepped under the thin canopy of the outer trees and carefully picked her way further in, weaving around trunks, strangles of bushes, clumps of saplings and the odd branch knocked down from the wind overnight. Her eyes scanned the forest floor, locking onto each and every herb and weed that she found. She named each as she went, a habit she’d developed long ago.

Galen was after black disc fungi which would be deeper in the forest, in the darker, thicker parts of the woods, where the water clung to the earth. There’d been a patch near the lake only a week ago, about a twenty-minute walk away. Plenty of time to study the plants around her and listen to the birdsong as she went. Elinta passed trees whose bark could treat stomach cramps, flowers that when ground into a paste treated skin rashes, and leaves of a bush that made a tea excellent for the health of pregnant women. It was amazing what could be found in nature.

The temperature shifted the further into the forest she travelled. Goosebumps tingled up her bare arms. No matter the temperature outside in the grasslands, here, deep in the forest, was always cool. Head tucked down, rubbing a hand up and down her arm in an effort to reduce her chills, she didn’t realise how far she’d travelled until she stumbled out of the trees and found the lake directly in front of her. No longer contending with the trees, warm sunshine beamed down onto the lake and reflected onto Elinta. She closed her eyes and soaked up the heat, finally dispelling the goosebumps, but when she opened her eyes, a shock of chills coursed through her again. And not because she was cold.

The trees at the far left of the lake were … flattened? They were broken, splintered, and knocked over in a wide line that appeared out of nowhere. It wasn’t, couldn’t be, storm damage. The odd branch here and there was normal. She’d seen enough of it on her way here. But this. This looked like some kind of … of trail. Into the air. Elinta stared at the destruction. What could cause something like this?

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Elinta hesitantly took a step towards the ruined trees, still holding her basket in one hand. She took another step. Then another and finally found herself in front of the trail, feet in the lake, the water gently lapping at her heels. Now she was closer, Elinta could see the height of the damage changed as it went further into the forest. The trees at the back appeared more whole, some only missing their very tops. As the damage grew closer to the lake, more and more of the trees appeared to have been knocked down or snapped until, by the edge, a whole patch of saplings had been demolished and huge branches had snapped off the larger trees. But that wasn’t the strangest thing. At her feet was proof that it was indeed a trail. Deep ruts had been carved into the earth, spreading loose dirt across the ground, and disappearing at the edge of the lake as though whatever had flown off into the sky had come from the water.

All thought of the fungi forgotten, Elinta twisted her body, eyes following the path of the ruts to the water’s edge. Her heart pounded in her throat and her skin crawled as she studied the calm water of the lake. What had come out of there? As if in answer, a low keen came from across the water. Elinta’s blood froze. Her body froze. Jammed up. The noise sounded again. The cry of a hurt or scared animal, but it was like nothing she’d heard before. It sounded big. As though the noise reverberated in a large chest. She closed her eyes, all too aware of the damage behind her, steadied herself, then raised her gaze to look across the lake. What she saw there, barely twenty-five metres away, made her heart stutter. The basket dropped from her limp hands. What she was seeing— what she was looking at … it wasn’t possible. They hadn’t been seen in Eldras in over a hundred and seventy years. But she knew what it was. Its name came out of her in