The Dragon Healer (2 page)

The moment she applied the ointment, Phelan began to breathe easier. As did Brodie.

“This cream has an anesthetic in it, so the pain should ease,” the healer said in a gentle voice.

“Whatever you are doing, keep doing it,”
came Phelan’s voice, filled with relief, in Brodie’s mind.

“It’s working,” Brodie reported to the healer. “He says to keep going.”

She continued to work, talking quietly as she ministered to the dragon. “So you really speak to your dragon partner. I had heard tales, but I have never seen a dragon up close before, much less talked to a knight. I have wondered how such different beings managed to work together so well.”

“Only men who can hear the silent speech of dragons are eligible to be chosen as knights,” he answered offhandedly, watching her treatment of his best friend carefully.

“I see.” She examined the wound more closely now that the pain had been masked. “This burn is severe, but I believe we can make him more comfortable while it heals.” She turned to address the innkeeper who had returned without Brodie realizing it. “Can you get six burnjelly plants from my cart, please? The biggest ones,” she clarified.

The innkeeper scurried off to do her bidding. Brodie recognized the name of an uncommon plant that was highly prized for its ability to heal burns. In the southern part of the country, he knew many housewives and innkeepers liked to keep a burnjelly plant potted and growing on a sunny windowsill if they could get their hands on one. It was a rare thing and something of a miracle that this healer had a supply in the back of her wagon.

She hummed softly while she worked and the sound seemed to calm Phelan. It calmed Brodie too, if truth be told. Between the humming and the confident way she worked to clean and inspect all of his dragon partner’s wounds, Brodie felt he was in good hands. Thanks be to the Mother of All.

Phelan had fallen into a light doze, Brodie realized. The prolonged battle, the injury and the pain had wiped him out. The cessation of the worst of his agony had probably allowed the dragon to shut down for a little while and recover some of his strength. Phelan, Brodie had learned over the years they’d been together, had cultivated the ability to take what he called
battle naps
.

He could deliberately sleep, at will, for short amounts of time that would allow him to stay on duty much longer than most of the other dragons. Phelan had developed the skill while he’d been recovering from the loss of his first knight. Phelan was a dragon in the prime of his life, and even though partnering with a dragon extended the knight’s lifetime two or three times over, eventually they still died. When the knight died, the dragon usually went into a period of deep mourning.

Phelan’s first knight, Sir Anarik, had died in battle after only a hundred years or so together. He had been one of those defending the old king and his wife when they had been murdered. Phelan and Sir Anarik had gone after the assassins and Anarik had died, leaving Phelan riderless and heartbroken.

Rather than sink into deeper despair, Phelan had set himself the task of safeguarding the remainder of the royal family, in particular the princes, the eldest of whom had become king on his father’s death. Roland had been very young when he took the throne, but he had done a masterful job. Attempts had been made on his and his brothers’ lives, but Phelan had usually be there to skewer or fry any who tried to kill any more of the royal family.

Which is why Phelan had learned to do without much sleep while on duty. He and another partnerless dragon had devised the scheme and shared the duty of guarding the princes all on their own. They hadn’t told anyone, but after they’d conveniently defeated a few would-be assassins, people began to realize what the dragons had done.

King Roland had elevated Phelan, thanking him for his tireless service by making him a member of the Dragon Council and one of the king’s most trusted advisors on military matters. When the time had come to build the Border Lair, Phelan had been on top of the list of seasoned warriors who could put the place together.

Brodie had the military and engineering experience to handle such a task. Even before he’d been chosen by Phelan, he’d had the beginnings of a successful career with the specialized group of Guardsmen who assessed the safety of bridges and other public structures. He’d studied building and architecture in some detail as a young man and put that, along with his penchant for warfare, to good use as a military engineer.

His partnership with Phelan had come along quite by accident. A river had spilled violently over its banks, taking out a key bridge during a particularly bad storm. Brodie had been sent to repair the bridge. Phelan had been there to help with the rescue, plucking people and livestock out of the raging torrent and flying them to shore. When Phelan realized Brodie was one of the rare men who could hear him speak, they began to work together to help during the crisis.

After the emergency was over, Phelan hadn’t wasted much time in speaking the words of Claim to Brodie and they had been partners ever since. Brodie moved from Guard post to Lair and had begun training in the ways of knights. His earlier fighting experience came in more than handy and his logical mind helped him move up the ranks in record time. He was a strategist and highly trained engineer, which was something the king could well use in his ranks of Dragon Knights and top advisors.

The only thing preventing Phelan from being appointed leader of the new Lair was his knight’s lack of a mate. Mated pairs were considered more stable for leading Lairs, so Phelan and by extension, Brodie, were given the role of seconds-in-command of the new Lair.

The innkeeper returned rolling a wheelbarrow filled with potted plants. Sure enough, Brodie recognized the distinctive, puffy stalks of the burnjelly plant from his travels in the south. He took one of the plants as the healer did the same and began snapping off some of the outer stalks and preparing the jelly inside for use.

“You’ve done this before?” the healer asked in her quiet way.

“I have seen it done,” Brodie confirmed. “I can help. I realize you’re going to need to use a lot of your supply on Phelan, but I can pay you.”

“When there is need, there is no charge,” the healer repeated the oft-heard motto of her Temple. Still, Brodie knew many healers made small amounts of money selling medicines in the towns they visited. It was never much, but it probably provided for the occasional creature comfort.

“A noble sentiment. Nevertheless, I will compensate you for the plants. I know how rare they are in these climes.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she whispered with a mischievous expression, leaning toward him.

She smelled of lavender and lilies and warm woman. A heady combination that made him want to lean closer and breathe deeply. She was a gorgeous creature and now that Phelan was resting more comfortably, Brodie saw again what he’d seen when he first beheld her. This healer was a beauty with a gentle touch and an attractive scent. He wanted to kiss her, but he knew that would be entirely inappropriate at the moment. Still, if the opportunity presented itself later, he wouldn’t be shy. He wanted to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

“If we only use the outer stalks,” she went on, oblivious to his carnal thoughts, “the plant will survive to grow more in time. Even trimmed as these will be when we are done, I can earn a few pennies with them from the villagers to pay for my room and board.” She smiled and leaned back, snapping another of the outer stalks off her plant and cutting it open. “So you see, I will not be out much from helping your friend. To be honest, I am honored to assist a dragon and knight of the realm.”

“You honor us with your skill and willingness to help, healer,” Brodie replied politely. “I’m Sir Broderick, but my friends call me Brodie. What’s your name?”

“Silla,” she replied softly, almost shyly.

He wondered how a lovely, attractive and obviously skilled woman had ended up in such a lonely occupation, but he would not pry. Not yet. Soon though, he vowed to know all her secrets.

“You are lovely, Silla.” Brodie wondered where the restraint he usually practiced in his words had suddenly gone. He hadn’t meant to blurt out his thoughts like that, but she seemed to be blushing in the dim light of the torch-lit courtyard.

No coy court games for this beauty. No, she was more genuine and unpracticed in her responses. Shy. Beautiful, soft-spoken and shy. Brodie never would have expected it of an obviously successful journeyman healer. To be on the road by one’s self took a strong character and usually meant the traveling healers were much surer of themselves and somehow…brasher. But this woman could still blush.

Brodie found himself enchanted by the puzzle of her.

Chapter Two

Silla was flattered and somewhat uncomfortable with the knight’s attention. She didn’t know how to reply to his words. Few men had ever made such dramatic statements to her. Most saw her as a healer first, woman second. If at all.

She busied herself with preparing the plant stalks she would need to treat the dragon. Reaching into her satchel, she retrieved one of a set of small bowls she often used to mix herbs. It would do as a vessel to hold the jelly as she worked. She began scraping the jelly out of the cut stalks into the bowl. The knight followed suit, bending close to her as she worked.

He was so tall. And younger than she was, if she didn’t miss her guess. His dark curls made her fingers itch to touch them and see if they were as soft as they looked. He had brown hair kissed with streaks of gold, cut short in the warrior fashion, but curly in the most attractive way. It was windblown from his flight here, no doubt, and soot covered his clothes and made a stripe across one cheek.

He smiled at her, a question in his eyes. “Is there something on my face?”

Drat. She’d been caught staring.

“Yes.” She was forced to explain her fascination with his handsome features. “Soot, I believe,” she answered quietly.

“A hazard of working with dragons.” He chuckled and surprised her by leaning closer, offering his cheek. “Could you?” he asked with seeming innocence, but he had a devilish smile on his face.

Silla decided to take up his challenge. Daring greatly, she took a clean cloth from her satchel and wiped at the gray mark along his cheek. The rasp of his beard stubble made her insides quiver and she damned the layer of cloth between her fingers and his skin. She wanted to feel the heat of his body, the bristles on his cheek.

It was irrational. She hadn’t ever wanted another man since the dissolution of her disastrous marriage. She thought she’d been forever cured of the yearnings she’d once known as a younger woman. Yearnings that had been demolished and replaced by the repulsion she’d learned in her painful marriage bed.

But this knight…he was different. He made her feel things she hadn’t dreamed of in too many years to count. He reawakened something in her that wanted to know more. Other women seemed to enjoy bedding their mates. Many talked to her, in the course of her duties as a healer, about the intimacies of the bedroom. She’d come to realize that not all husbands were oafish brutes. Some were tender and loving with their wives. Some lovers were also overly playful and got into mischief that required her services to heal.

She knew all this with an academic sort of viewpoint, but she’d never imagined she would want to know the touch of a man again. Not until meeting this amazing, alarming, disarming knight.

The soot on his cheek was long gone, but the moment held. Their gazes locked and his head dipped lower, closer to hers.

A clang out in the yard made her jump and the moment was broken. She looked over to see the innkeeper ushering the last of the townsfolk into his common room. There were many who had joined in the bucket brigade to help the dragon. They were all now enjoying a drink. She had heard Brodie—Sir Broderick, she reminded herself sternly—make the offer of a round of drinks on him by way of thanks as the last of the buckets was emptied.

Silla looked down at her hands and saw there was enough jelly in the bowl to at least begin treating the dragon’s burns. The sooner they got the jelly on the wound, the sooner the burns would start to heal.

She moved away from the disturbing knight and closer, once again, to the dragon.

“There is another bowl like this one, in the first pocket of my satchel,” she said without meeting Brodie’s eyes. Blast! She had to remember to think of him as Sir Broderick. Brodie was much too familiar for a knight of the realm. “If you could continue preparing the jelly, sir, I will begin treatment.”

She heard a sigh and then movement behind her as the knight reached into her pack, which was lying on the ground. She observed him finding the second bowl out of the corner of her eye as she scooped a handful of the jelly out of her bowl and began dabbing it gently on the dragon’s wounds.

She began to hum a healing chant as she worked, using light strokes on the dragon’s raw flesh, making certain every last inch of the damaged areas were covered. She ran out of jelly quickly, but Brodie—Sir Broderick—proved an excellent assistant, handing her a full bowl when hers emptied. They repeated the dance quite a few times before all the dragon’s burns were treated.

When she turned back to the area he’d been working in, she found all her potted plants well pruned with the growing centers intact. The plants would live to grow new stalks. He had been listening. She smiled in satisfaction. A man who really listened was a rare and wondrous thing in her experience.