I’ve been talking about Healer’s Bane for some time now. I’ve been thinking about it for much longer.
The idea grew from watching friends who cared about others so much they would willingly bear the suffering of the world so everyone else could be ‘free’. Luckily, they don’t get a choice in the matter, otherwise there would be a select few who would suffer constantly and everyone else would walk around without the growth that comes through pain.
But what if there were a character who could take on the pain of others?
Healer’s Bane was the result of that idea. It rambled about in the back of my brain for over a year. Or two years. I lose count. But now, finally, it’s written and about to see the light of day.
You can preorder it here. Or you can keep on scrolling to meet Kynet and see a snippet of her life.
The door slammed open.
Kynet jerked, her hip crashing into the counter as she spun. One hand slipped to a dagger hidden beneath her blouse.
A young lad sagged against the door, clinging to the latch to keep himself upright. Rain dripped from a dark mop of tangled hair and streamed from his clothing. “N-Netta.” His head slumped forward.
“Ean?” Kynet sprang toward him, almost tripping over a bench. She shoved it out of her way. “What is it? Nayn?” He couldn’t have got himself in trouble this quickly, could he? Of course he could. What was she thinking? This was Nayn after all.
Ean shook his head. “There’s someone…someone out there. He’s killing people.” The lad raised his head, brown eyes larger than normal as Kynet crouched before him. A pallor swept his cheeks. He trembled. “I saw ’im. He has smoke and poison.” He lurched forward and buried his face in Kynet’s shoulder.
She hugged him tight. The dampness of his clothing bit through her own blouse. “You’re safe. You just fell asleep on watch is all. No harm done.” That was the other thing she needed to talk to Nayn about. Spying for the cause gave the homeless waifs something to do besides steal, but there was no need to run them to exhaustion, especially the younger ones. Ean was what? Nine?
Ean pulled away. A flush touched his cheeks. “I dinnae dream it.” He dashed the hair from his face. “He tried to touch ’em, ’e did. He ’ad a mask and staff and every’ing. Smoke came out of ’is fingers. He touched me.” He pulled out his other arm from beneath his cloak.
Black traced the veins beneath his skin. His hand had turned gray as ash, the fingers constricted over themselves.
By Governor Aleron’s authority itself. Kynet stiffened, then reached out.
Ean jerked back. “Don’t! What if it gets you too?”
“It’s not going to hurt me.” Wounds couldn’t reach from person to person. Even the rumored superstitions didn’t allow for…But no. It couldn’t be true. The Poisoner was only a legend, if the whispers deserved even that glorified of a name. She grasped Ean’s wrist firmly. The skin burned beneath her touch, and Ean stifled a cry. Gray skin crept along his palm toward his wrist.
Only two more weeks until release! Are you ready?