Page 2 of Secrets of the Lore Keepers
“Now!” I shouted as soon as it dissipated.
We leaped forward as one, spots of lightning still danced in my eyes as we capped lids on the jars and replaced them. I held mine up, a smile splitting my face, as always, awed at being able to capture lightning in a jar.
Maraini shielded her face and pointed across the meadow. “Rae?” her voice was low with concern. “What’s that?”
I followed her finger. In the shadows a shape lay on the ground, a shape I was sure hadn’t been there before.
Without waiting for a response, I took off running toward it, for there was something odd about the way it sprawled in a helpless heap.
“Careful!” Maraini shouted.
“It’s okay,” I tossed back over my shoulder, holding up the jar of lightning. “If it’s a wild beast, I have this and if it’s something else. . .”
Maraini caught up with me. “Don’t be foolish,” she cautioned. “You know that trouble comes with the storm.”
It was an old superstition, but that was not why I slowed my pace. My stomach clenched and my thoughts flew back to the woman, Sasha, who’d appeared in the market months ago. She’d touched my arm, her words shadowed with an omen:A storm is coming. And with the storm will come a change. Make sure your heart is open to it. . .
A shiver went down my spine at the memory, although there had been many storms since there. Still, it was an admonition to let go of my impulsiveness, slow down, use my head more and my mouth less. My fingers itched to return to the lightning rods as another boom of thunder rocked the meadow. The black storm clouds did nothing to further display the hump that lay in the grass, but when another burst of lightning broke across the sky, eerily lighting it up for mere seconds, I saw the hump clearly.
My hand flew to my throat, and I gasped. It was a man, or at least what looked like a man. He lay headlong on his stomach, as though he’d been crawling and his strength finally gave out. In the quick blink of an instance I saw one of his hands was curled around grass, and the other was under him, pressed against his stomach where a patch of darkness spread. Blood? I swallowed hard.
“Maraini, we have to help him!”
“But—” came Maraini’s budding protest.
“I know, I know,” I interrupted and stepped closer to him. “We know nothing about this stranger and he could be dangerous. But I don’t think he’s dead, just wounded, and with our potions we always help those with wounds and ailments. Besides, I have the lightning jar.” I held it up, casting a thin light over her face.
Maraini’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll go for the wagon, but, Rae, be careful and stand back. If he wakes, he might not be kind.”
I nodded, and she ran toward the barn. Although now the trip across the meadow back to our farm seemed so far. Despite her warning, I turned my attention back to the man and my heartbeat quickened. Sure, there were plenty of unmarried men in the village and surrounding farmlands. During market days I enjoyed flirting with them. But none had caught my eye, or made me want to leave my cozy home and have babies. Something inside me longed for more, much more, and I still wondered who or what had killed my parents. Part of me hoped it was all a big mistake, and they’d come striding through the door, laughing and smiling. Honestly, I knew better. An unsettling fear kept me at home, because my parents had left the land, and leaving the land brought about their death. Besides, it was easy to lose myself in the farm’s work and bury my grief with responsibilities, no matter how haphazardly I carried them out.
Slowly, I knelt in the dry grass and placed the jar of lightning by my side. It gave off a tiny halo of light, just enough to allow me to scrutinize the man. He wore his hair long, past his shoulders, and it was a tangled mess of snarls and bramble. A slight smile came to my lips. Often how my hair looked at the end of a busy day. Some of it had slipped over his cheek, although his arm, which had come up to grasp the grass, covered most of his face.
I frowned as I studied his clothes. Leather, well made. A long-sleeved shirt covered his arms, and over it was a leather jerkin. The arm I could see had a gauntlet on it, embedded with swirling designs. I studied them, questions rising. His pants were dark and his boots black and muddy. Studying his clothing led me to assume he was a well-to-do man. And if he was, why was he here? Wounded?
Another glint of lightning lit up the meadow. I saw a glimmer, just underneath him and swallowed hard as I stood up and backed away. A knife. He had a knife. The handle lay under him, but the blade was partly exposed. As I looked at it a deep foreboding came over me, like a black shadow of night. I twisted to face the farm, hoping Maraini was on her way with the horse and wagon.
Soft and steady drops of rain pitter-pattered down upon the carpeted grass, determined to soak it through and feed the hungry plants. I lifted my face to it, relishing the drops on my lips. My body stilled, for nature had a way of soothing my need to rush everywhere and accomplish task after task as fast as possible. The shadow disappeared, taking my fear with it. I knelt again and placed my hand on the man’s shoulder. He was still warm, and I felt his chest rise and fall. I wanted to turn him over, to study his face, but I recognized the need to wait for my sister.
“Hello, stranger,” I whispered. “My name is Rae, and you’ve stumbled across the farm which belongs to my sister, Maraini, and I. We are Lore Keepers and we will use our knowledge to heal you and send you on our way again. You have come to a house of faith and fortune; all we ask in return is for your silence.”
Chapter Two
Once Maraini returned,it took both of us to drag the man into the wagon. He was dead weight the entire time and didn’t so much as grunt. By the time we finished, the rain was pouring down in blinding sheets.
“I’ll lead the horse,” Maraini said, while I gathered the jars and climbed into the back to ride with the man. I’d remembered to snatch his silver blade out of the grass, but something about it made me wrap it in my skirts and hide it from my sister. I didn’t know why.
I tried to shield the man from the rain as we traveled the short distance back to the barn while my mind went wild with speculation. The occasional light only left me more curious about the stranger. His skin was bronze, a lighter shade than mine. His face was narrow, angular with deep-set eyes, long eyelashes, and a sharp nose. Who was he? A hunter who’d gotten lost? A warrior who lost his comrades? A noble in disguise?
Maraini could craft a story for him out of thin air. She’d write him into her storybooks where she cataloged tall tales from legends past, of great wars, runaway princesses, hidden princes, noble kings, and a spiraling, dangerous forest kept in the grasp of the goddesses. Stories I loved to listen to late at night, sitting in front of the fire when sleep became hard to come by. The man looked as though he had stepped out of those tales and come to enchant us. Or make our lives complex.
I shivered. Even though it was midsummer, the rain was cold against my skin, especially since the sun had gone down. Soon my hair was drenched through and through. My thoughts flitted back to the scolding I usually got from Mama after playing in the rain. She’d drag me indoors by my ear and give me a tongue lashing about how I’d catch my death out in the cold rain. Then she’d hang my clothes in front of the fire to dry, wrap a blanket around me and stow me by the hearth with a cup of peppermint tea. Often, Maraini came to snuggle up and whisper stories in my ear. I’d give anything for a tongue lashing now, if it meant seeing my mother’s face again.
The mare needed no encouragement and trotted into the barn, blowing and stamping. Maraini hopped off the front of the wagon, unhitched her and started rubbing her down. “That’s a good girl,” she cooed, leading the horse back to her warm stall.
I glanced at the man in the wagon. Moving him would be a pain. Maraini returned and together, as gently as we were able, we rolled him off the wagon and dragged him into a stall filled with hay. The dampness of his clothes made the hay stick to him, and Maraini looked over at me. “Do you have the lightning jars?”
“Of course.” I dashed back to the wagon to grab them and hung up the lantern which cast a soft pool of yellow over the stall.
