Page 5 of Leila’s Legacy

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Leila fought to keep her easy stride as she walked away, a feat difficult to do when her knees were soft with fear. She turned around the corner of a nearby hut and leaned her back on the wall while her heart galloped in great slamming beats.

The Lion.

That man had been the Lion. She gasped around the tightness in her chest. Remembering the contagion all around her, she hastily brought up the kerchief around her face to filter the air through the herbs. Her breath blew hot and humid behind the dry, prickling leaves and stems, but she scarcely noticed.

He had seen her. Talked to her. She pressed her hand to her chest, but the thrumming continued with wild abandon.

Was he there still?

Her body tensed with what she must do. The villager on the bench was most likely not dead as she had claimed, but he would be soon if she did not hurry to his side. Steeling herself beyond her fear, she carefully peeked around the building. No one remained, save the man still laying where he fell. Her legs almost buckled with relief.

The Lion was gone.

She slid her daggers free and cautiously made her way to the villager.

“They’re gone?” he asked from his prone position, his words muffled.

Leila glanced around the surrounding area and saw no movement save for the billows of smoke and floating ash. The stink of it all hung in the foul air despite the mask she wore.

“Aye.” She slipped her daggers into her belt and helped the man sit upright.

“They were asking about ye.” The man wobbled and righted himself, the flagon still locked in his hands.

She’d seen the Lion give it to him. But why? No doubt to put the man at ease, to get him to talk. Leila assessed the man in front of her, his back hunched, his grizzled face lined in pain. “Let’s get you to the hut where you can be properly cared for.”

Leila was able to assist the older man to the pestilence hut, where Isla rushed about distributing teas to aid cool fevers and poultices to help with the pain of the swollen contagion. The woman they’d found earlier, Rose, refused to lay still and instead hovered over the children, whose names Leila had learned were Joan and John.

Once the man was settled into an unoccupied bed, Leila set to work assisting Isla and showing Rose how to care for the children.

It was late afternoon by the time Leila and Isla began the walk back to the castle. They changed in a spare room in the guard house, scrubbed their exposed skin and put their dirty clothes in boiling water to prevent bringing illness into the castle.

“’Tis getting worse,” Isla said as they walked through the bailey. “Can ye see if it will get better soon?”

“My visions don’t tell me.” Leila scratched at an itchy red welt on her wrist. There were two more on the back of her hand and several on her forearm.

“Aye, I know. I just hoped…” Isla drew back Leila’s sleeve and tsked. “Ye’re covered in flea bites. Come, I’ll give ye an ointment to take out the itch.”

“Nettle juice and calendula.” Leila pulled her sleeve over the itchy bumps on her arm. “I have some in my room that I made the other day for this very reason.”

“Ye’ll be taking my position at the castle as healer soon, my lady.” But the rebuke was given with a gleam of pride in the older woman’s eyes.

“You’re as much as a part of this castle as the stone. We would never get rid of you.”

“I’m almost as old too.” Isla’s good-natured expression faded to one of concern. “I dinna like ye going to the village.”

“You put yourself at risk too,” Leila said, playing her part of their usual conversation.

Isla stopped and took Leila’s hand in her cool, dry one. “Ye’re a lady and ye’re covered in flea bites, venturing into a village that has scores of dead lying about underfoot as ye tend to the dying.”

“I’ll be fine,” Leila protested.

The healer narrowed her eyes and shook her head, saying nothing further.

“I’ll be fine,” Leila repeated the words again with certainty in an effort to offer reassurance.

And she was fine.