The Healer's Gift

The Healer’s Gift

Book 1 of The Gift Series

Barbara Cutrera

To Budge. Yes, that is my husband’s given name.  He’s highly intelligent, resourceful, self-assured, and unfailingly logical. Love is a journey, and we continue to work towards our HEA. This book is dedicated to him in thanks for all that he does as my husband and as my business partner.

Copyright © 2009 by Barbara J. Cutrera

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the photocopying, scanning, uploading and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property.

Published by On My Way Up, LLC at Smashwords

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the result of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

eISBN 978-1-3108742-8-4

Second ebook edition: January 2016

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

About the Author

Other Books by Barbara Cutrera

Chapter One

As Ainsland pushed the stray brown strands of hair away from her face, she shivered in the cold April night air and questioned her decision to rush headlong into the unknown. In all of her eighteen years, she had never been so completely lost. Perhaps because she was such a small woman, the enormous trees and muddy waters that surrounded her made her feel even more vulnerable and afraid. However, she reminded herself that she was in mortal danger and could not risk returning to the road lest her kidnapper happen to chance by on horseback or in a wagon.

She gathered the hem of the oversized nightdress she’d stolen out of necessity in one hand, lifted her foot then lowered it in order to search for a solid patch of ground with her toes. The only thing she encountered was thick mud and something unidentifiable that slithered along her ankle. Unable to contain a small shriek, Ainsland tumbled and fell to her hands and knees in the bog. The wispy threads of a spider web tickled her face and neck, and she pulled her filthy fingers free of the murky water and wiped frantically at the filmy mess.

Once she was as certain as she could be that the webbing was gone and that no wicked spider was crawling in her hair or on her skin, Ainsland rose carefully and tried unsuccessfully to once again locate any recognizable landmark or dwelling. She knew that this was an exercise in futility since it was dark and she was unfamiliar with her surroundings.

Most of the branches of the old trees were high and thick, and Ainsland was way too small to reach many of them. Because of the canopy of branches, there was little visible moonlight from the two moons that hovered in Etherea’s night sky that might help to guide her in any direction. Shadowy forms and the white clouds of her breath were all she could see in the near-darkness.

She stretched out her arms and took first one tentative step then another. Gaining confidence, she took two more. A tree root hidden in the mud caught her on the third, and she felt something jagged and unforgiving tear through her clothing and the flesh of her thigh as she scrambled for purchase.

Gritting her teeth against this new pain, Ainsland plunged her hands into the depths beneath her and groped for the tree root. She latched onto it and used it to lead her through the slippery marsh. It grew larger and larger as she moved forward. Eventually, she felt the part of the tree that rose above the water’s edge. In a moment of irrational relief, Ainsland threw her arms against the side of the massive trunk as if to hug it in gratitude. She edged around the tree and sagged into the natural seat provided by the intertwined roots before lowering her face into her mud-encrusted hands and giving in to tears.

I want to go home, she said to no one in particular.

If her mother were in the same situation, she would get up. Her father would already be on his feet. Neither of them would waste precious time wallowing in self-pity.

Ainsland wiped at her tears and squared her shoulders. She must go on. She must survive. Her parents would expect no less of her.

Sliding her hands over the rough bark of the tree trunk, Ainsland managed to stand precariously on the network of roots. As she strained to reach for a branch to steady herself, she experienced a sharp pain at her left wrist. She let out a cry and slipped from her perch. In the blackness of the gloom, she toppled onto her back. Her head struck a root of the tree, and she lost consciousness.

Ainsland woke to the feel of a man’s hand on her shoulder. She wanted to push the hand away, but she quickly discovered that she couldn’t move or speak. Even opening her eyes proved to be too much for her.

The hand went first to her neck and then to her head. Ainsland heard the stranger moving away and fought to call out for him not to leave her. She must have made some small sound, because the man returned to where she lay and said, Quiet now, little one. I’m Collum, a healer. Let me remove my cloak and make you warm; then I’ll take you to a place where I can truly help you.

Strong arms lifted her, and Ainsland whimpered at the various pains that came with the movement.

It will be better soon, Collum assured her, as he tucked the cloak around her. He called over his shoulder, Thank you, Mighty Oak, for shielding this one.

The healer carried her for some distance. Eventually, he halted and laid her on the ground. There came the sound of a heavy door being pushed back and then Ainsland was lifted once more. The chill of the night gave way to the coolness of a room. A short time later, a fire crackled close by. The smell of herbs hung heavy in the air.

I apologize for the hardness of the table, Collum began. I won’t keep you on it long, but it’s where I cleanse wounds. Once I’ve treated you, you’ll be put in a proper bed.

He raised her right wrist and brushed the tips of his fingers across the two small puncture wounds. Ainsland listened as Collum filled a bowl with water and brought it and other articles to the table.

You’ve been bitten by a snake, he informed her, as he washed the wounds. The skin around the marks is raised and red. You’ve two pink lines extending from there to your elbow. I’m going to have to open the wounds in order to withdraw the venom.

Without hesitation, he made two small x’s over each wound with a knife. Ainsland drew in her breath at the pain but had no choice except to lie unmoving while the healer placed his mouth to her wrist and began to suck at it. She heard him spit into something several times. Still unable to open her eyes, she felt the healer spread a sweet-smelling salve over the x’s. He rinsed his mouth with something he sipped from what sounded like a bottle he’d uncorked, spit out the contents, and then went for more water.

When he returned, Collum checked her wrist and said, The cuts I made have ceased to bleed, but the fluid is leaking from the wounds, which is a good thing. The pink lines remain but have spread no further towards your shoulder. The salve should draw any remaining traces of venom out in due time.

With practiced ease, the healer wiped her face and throat free of dirt. He produced another knife and quickly cut the nightdress down the front and away from her arms. Ainsland was mortified but was still unable to move or speak and, therefore, couldn’t protest. Her heart raced as she wondered whether or not this stranger might rape her. She was a small woman with large breasts and feared for her safety, but she was completely powerless. If he wanted to harm her, she wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Within minutes, the excess mud was gone from her exposed flesh. Once her long hair had undergone similar treatment, Collum laid down the rags and placed both hands on the top of her head. His fingers slowly moved downward.

The blow to your head won’t kill you, he declared. Now let me see to the rest of you.

His hands rested on her neck for a moment before moving across her shoulders and her arms. He felt along her collarbone before moving past her breasts, examining her ribs and belly.

You have many cuts and scrapes and a severe rope burn on the wrist that wasn’t bitten. Odd.

As he ran his hands along the side of her right thigh, Ainsland gasped at the searing pain and opened her eyes. She fought to hold back her tears and attempted to mouth the word wait, but the healer was studying her leg and didn’t seem to notice.

Ainsland watched Collum, wishing that she could scream as he probed the injured area with his fingers. She could feel him examining the wound closely, and she found it difficult to stay conscious.

Tall and broad-shouldered, it was no wonder the healer had lifted her so effortlessly. His blonde hair, which fell past his shoulders, was tied back with a leather cord, and his eyes were golden brown. He wore dark pants and a serviceable white shirt. Ainsland supposed he was perhaps twenty-five.

Ah, you can open your eyes now. Brown like your hair, eh? Soon, you’ll be able to speak again. Nodding towards her injured thigh, Collum said, This is a bad wound. It’ll have to be sewn up, he muttered, peering down at the soles of her feet. Shaking his head, he added, Those, too.

He gingerly slid his arm under her shoulders and turned her towards him. Reaching behind her, he pulled at the remnants of the nightdress as he rolled her onto her belly. Ainsland wished she could be anywhere else as he stared at her back. His eyes narrowed, and he set his jaw in a fierce grimace. Then, he washed the lash marks as gently as he could. He counted five on her back and one on her hip.

Once the torn flesh had been thoroughly cleaned, Collum mixed a paste and proceeded to smear it along each welt. He covered the area with a fresh dressing and returned the girl to her back.

The healer examined the wounds on the wrist that had been bitten. They continued to leak a trickle of clear fluid, but the pink streaks on her arm had receded to points close to the incisions. He applied more salve and then covered her, leaving only her right leg and both feet exposed.

I’ll put something on the wounds so they don’t hurt so badly, Collum told her, as he retrieved a needle and a strange type of thread. It may be uncomfortable, but it should be bearable. Since you hit your head, I don’t want to give you a great amount of opiates, yet.

The cleansing and stitching of her thigh and the soles of her feet took some time. When he’d finished, Collum rubbed tiredly at his stiff neck. His ministrations had been completed, but his work was not yet done. He spread a soft blanket on a nearby bed and lowered Ainsland on top of it. Then, he re-covered her with the other blanket and a coverlet made of soft fabric that had been stuffed with feathers. After scrubbing the table, he threw out the last bowl of dirt-filled water, refilled it with fresh water and oils, and washed out the muddy and blood-soaked rags. He hung them on a cord near the fireplace to dry, placed another log on the fire, and then left the cottage, saying, Sleep now. I’ll return shortly. You’re safe here.

Ainsland woke when Collum re-entered the house. A hard rain was falling, and Collum, dripping wet, hurried into another room to don dry clothes. When he moved to her bed, he deftly examined the wounds on her wrist, leg, and feet. Then, he turned his attention to the rope marks on her other arm, and she suddenly became enraged and tried to wrench out of his grip.

Let me go! she cried. You can’t keep me here!

I’m not here to hurt you, he said patiently. I’ve only just saved your life. Stop fighting and lie back. You’ll undo all of my good work.

"You’re working for him," she insisted, but the protest was weak and her strength was waning.

I work for no one but myself, Collum replied calmly, as he wrapped his arms around her small body and held her immobile. Now, stop before you make yourself worse. You’re running a fever as it is.

I want my mother.

Tell me your name, and maybe I can find her for you.

My name is Ainsland.

What were you doing in the forest, Ainsland? Were you looking for your mother?

Mother and Father are dead, she said matter-of-factly. "Everyone is dead. Kendall is dead. He took me away. He wanted…he wanted…."

She began to shake violently in his arms, and Collum gently forced her to lie back.

Who took you away? What did he want?

He said I was perfect, she whispered. I don’t understand. I want to go home.

Where is your home?

It’s gone, she said with a small hiccupping sob. It’s all burnt to nothing.

Who burnt it?

Ainsland couldn’t stop crying long enough to explain further. Collum left her to rummage through his jars and returned to the bed with a small cup filled with herbs and an opiate. He forced her to drink tiny swallows of the bitter liquid until the cup had been drained. She soon went limp and sank back onto the bed.

Her fever mounted throughout the day and peaked during the night. Ainsland mumbled in her delirium but said nothing Collum could decipher. He managed to coax her into drinking another cup of the herbal mixture during the night, and she had instantly sagged against him as the concoction took effect. When he was certain that the fever was gone, Collum fell into his own bed and slept until dawn.

A knock on the door brought Ainsland out of a dream. The dream involving herself and the healer had been undeniably pleasing to her, but she was glad to be waked out of it.

Better not to desire too much, she thought. I’ve been disappointed before.

She pretended to sleep and looked around through slitted eyelids.

Who’s there? Collum asked as he went to the door.

Maggie from the village. My baby is sick.

Collum lifted the wooden bolt and opened the door. A young, red-haired woman wearing a thin, brown cloak and long, blue skirts stood shivering