The Last Guardian by Isabo Kelly Page A

something or someone had driven her to this state enraged him.
    He pushed through the cabin door and carried her to his bed. He collected fresh water from the well and pulled one of his less-noxious ointments out of the cupboard. He bathed her face, wetted her dry lips. Then he did a cursory exam and sighed in relief when he discovered the worst of her injuries was the gash on her knee.
    He debated with himself for several minutes before he decided against removing her clothing to get a better look at the wounds he could see through her torn shirt and trousers. He could treat the wounds well enough for now. Later, if she wanted, he’d make her a warm bath and give her the privacy she needed to further tend the cuts herself.
    He couldn’t imagine what had driven her here in such desperation, but the thought that she’d come to him when she needed help made his heart clench.
    She came awake suddenly, sitting up in bed while he was mixing a vegetable broth over the hearth. She gasped, looked frantically around the room, and her gaze fell on him. For a breathless moment, he wondered if she’d run, if she’d fear him the way so many others did.
    But her shoulders relaxed, and her body dropped back onto the bed.
    “Gehan,” she breathed his name and ran a hand over her forehead. “How long have I been unconscious?”
    “Not long. An hour, maybe.”
    Her eyes widened. “An hour?” She glanced at the door. “It wasn’t an hour behind me. Nothing’s happened?”
    “Should something have?”
    She rubbed a spot on her chest under her torn tunic. “It was so close when I started up….” She trailed off, shaking her head. She focused on the door, and her brow crinkled in concentration. “It’s still out there,” she murmured, more to herself than him. “So far away still. Not getting closer.” She looked back at him. “You have protection spells on the cabin?”
    “I have wards over the entire mountainside. This place is one of the most heavily protected.”
    She nodded as if something now made sense to her.
    “Here.” He brought her a bowl of broth. “You need something to eat. Then you can explain what you’re running from.”
    She took the bowl and slurped down the broth in greedy gulps.
    “When was the last time you ate?” he asked, watching her closely.
    She shrugged. “Can’t remember. Had to keep moving.”
    She swallowed the rest of the broth and handed the bowl back to him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He almost smiled. If the gesture had been a sign of her comfort with him and not her agitation and hunger he would have. He got her a second bowl of soup and sat beside her to hear her story.
    She started while she ate, sipping the broth slower now.
    “You know something of our tribe, of the guardians,” she stated, not asking. But she looked up and met his gaze with an intense stare so he felt the need to nod in agreement. “You’ve trained them in many of the old magics. Me. You’ve taught us a lot, but…we’ve forgotten some important things.”
    She glanced down at the bowl. When she looked up again, the pain and desperation in her eyes tore at him.
    “I need your help. I can’t fight it alone. The other guardians, they’re all dead. I’m the only one left. And I’m not strong enough alone.”
    “Dead? How?”
    “The Soul Eater.”
    He sucked in a sharp breath and leaned back from her. The Soul Eater. It hadn’t been seen or heard of in centuries. He was only newly exiled the last time the Soul Eater walked the earth.
    When he didn’t say anything, she rushed to fill the silence.
    “It’s stronger now. It was able to fight off the magics that should have worked. And it’s relentless. It won’t stop this time.” Her voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “I have to protect it.”
    The last “it” was something neither the K’ali nor the god who’d enlisted Gehan’s services in the name of the K’ali had ever explained to him. Gehan knew the K’ali