Soron's Quest by Robyn Wideman Page B

enemy, filled with monsters and predators, eager to eat him. Perhaps he should find a new home, one not so filled with violence. But that was a thought for another day. First he had to make sure he survived this one. Soron stopped his overthinking and concentrated on his current situation. Gently taking his tunic off, he assessed his wounds. Lightly, he ran his fingers over his ribs. The bruised area was large and at least one rib was broken. As long as the broken ribs didn’t cause any other injuries he would live. He would have to return to Amradin to see a healer, but that was a small price to pay for good health. With a small smile he consoled himself, at least he would not be returning empty handed. He had a whole yeti to carve up for meat and more importantly had found a source of hexin. Just thinking of the beautiful items he could create with the rare mineral made Soron happy. Yes, returning to Amradin would be okay.
     

2
    Home Again
    THE JOURNEY BACK to Amradin was slow and challenging. His wounded ribs made travel difficult. His determination to bring back the yeti meat and his small supply of hexin made travel even harder. He made a travois, two long poles lashed together with his supplies and cargo between them. It helped, but between the extra weight and his wounds, travel was still difficult. Normally, he would have made it back from the mountains in less than a week. As he was now, the journey had taken a full twelve days. Dropping his gear off at his room in the great lodge, Soron headed to the healer. The sooner he got his ribs looked at the better.
    Holti Skalkson was an a’kil healer. The a’kil were a magical race, their bloodlines thick with magical abilities. Holti used his magical abilities to augment his healing skills. He was without doubt the best healer in the north to Soron’s knowledge.
    Solotine was a rare land. Centuries ago, the land had been home to many races and breeds. A’kil, giants and other exotic magical beings from the far western lands called the harsh land home. But as the causians became more powerful, the magical beings and breeds faded out. Giants were almost never seen, most of the a’kil were gone and those who were left often hid their nature. Now most of the people of Solotine feared magic. Even in Amradin, where their leader was a descendant of giants, and a’kil as his father liked to remind him, the people had a healthy distrust for magic. Holti was one of the few magic users who was accepted, simply because his gifts were so valuable and more importantly the fact he was exceptionally discreet about when he used magic to heal.
    Today he was using magic.
    “What the hell did you do Soron? These ribs are a mess. It looks like a tree fell on you.” Holti might be considered discreet about using magic, but he was a loud and gruff man. Harassing Soron over his wounds was a favorite pastime. With the colorful and long history of battle that Soron possessed, Holti had plenty of practice teasing Soron about wounds as he fixed them.
    “No trees, just a hungry yeti,” replied Soron.
    Holti was impressed. Even for Soron, an accomplished warrior, a yeti was a ferocious monster and rare was one who survived a yeti attack. Holti did not show his admiration for the young warrior. Instead he scolded him, “Well next time try to get here a little quicker. These wounds are weeks old. Setting bones should be done right away. Even with my magic, this is not easy.” Holti gave Soron a potion, “Drink this. It will help with the pain. I am going to have to re-break your ribs to set them in the proper place.”
    Soron swore. The honey mead tasted good, but did little to dull the sharp pain Holti was inflicting on him. Sometimes Soron swore Holti hurt him more than any opponent. Soon the pain diminished as Holti used his magic to set the bones in their proper place.
    “There, all done. You will be good as new by morning,” said Holti, as he finished dealing with the ribs. Holti