Tree Singer by Jacci Turner (best novels for beginners TXT) 📕

The world fell away until she was completely focused on the tree and heard . . . nothing.

Frustrated, she tried again, forcing her body to relax, breathing so that her mind could listen better. A memory popped into her mind, completely unrelated to her current situation. Her family stood in a circle with their bare feet touching the ground during thanks-giving. It wasn’t a new memory, there were no pregnant sisters or brothers-in-law in the circle, just her small family.

Why would her mother send her this memory? Was she, once again, reminding Mayten that she was loved and missed?

Mayten sighed. Although she enjoyed the memory, she’d been hoping for something more practical, something that could help her figure out what to do.

She stood and brushed dirt and needles from her pants. There was one more person left to talk to—the woodsman. He seemed skittish around her, ducking away whenever she came near. She’d thought perhaps he held the same aversion toward singers as Adven did. Was it possible the woodsman was the evil singer?

Fear tingled up her spine. She clenched her jaws and refused to panic. If that was the case, she had others around. She would tell Adven and he’d . . .

He’d what? Adven hated her.

The prince then, and the count—

A commotion from camp caught her attention. The prince, Count Monroe, and Anatolian were all watching two figures Mayten could not identify. Someone appeared to be hurt, leaning heavily on Adven who was struggling with the other’s weight.

Rafe, Mayten realized with a jolt. It was the woodsman.

She raced toward the camp, urging her legs to move faster.

When she reached the others, the woodsman was stretched out on the ground, a blanket covering him and a rolled blanket under his head.

Pain washed over Mayten followed rapidly by sorrow. The scene was too much like one she’d experienced not that long ago.

Adven and Nan leaned over the woodsman while the others hovered nearby. Anatolian ran to her side, shaking water from his coat and whining anxiously.

She held the dog away from the woodsman. “What happened?”

Adven looked at her, panic in his one good eye. He felt the same way she did.

The shock sent Mayten back a step. Then she squared her shoulders and met Adven’s eyes.

“Someone’s been trapping here,” Adven said with a look of disgust. “One of those imported metal traps. It got his leg. It was almost impossible to get the thing off.”

Mayten’s stomach lurched. She hated blood. Her stomach felt queasy even thinking about it. She studied Rafe’s pain-twisted face.

How long would it take to run back down to the castle and bring back a healer? The thought was followed quickly by another—what if he was the evil singer?

Then she remembered her conversation with Cather, how similar their experiences with energy had seemed.

Could Mayten heal him?

She’d never thought of such a thing before. In her clan, roles were clearly defined. In an emergency, however, it would be okay to try, wouldn’t it?

Another look at Rafe’s clenched eyes, at the pain contorting his face, convinced her. She had to try. No matter who he was, he didn’t deserve to suffer. Not if she could help.

She kneeled next to the woodsman.

“What are you doing?” Adven demanded.

Mayten hunched her shoulders at the fear and anger in Adven’s voice. Would he try to pull her away? Strike her?

She placed her hands on Rafe’s chest as she’d seen Cather do so many times before. His eyes rolled and he started to thrash. Adven moved to his shoulders and held him down. He gave her a quick nod when she glanced at him in surprise.

“Prince Thomas, hold his legs,” she directed.

Thomas moved in and grabbed Rafe’s legs without questioning her command. The woodsman shrieked in pain but Tom held on.

“I’ve never done this before, but I have to try to help him. Please hold him still and don’t ask questions. I need to focus.”

Mayten blocked out the noise and commotion around her. She searched for his energy as though he were a tree. It was not hard to find, yet felt completely different from tree energy. The woodsman’s energy was warm, pulsing, rich, almost . . . tasty—

Revulsion roiled through her, tightening her gut so she almost vomited. She kept a gentle connection with his energy and refocused on Rafe’s physical body.

Starting at his head, she traced the flow of energy down. Again she felt the pulse, regular and . . . when she reached his injured leg, the energy amplified, becoming loud and angry, hurting Mayten’s ears.

Cather had explained how she sent her own energy into the wound.

Mayten breathed deeply and pictured energy flowing through her hands, down into the man’s leg. She began to hum, sending her vocal vibrations through her hands along his spine to his leg.

Rafe stopped squirming and became still. He began to breathe more evenly.

When Mayten again reached the injury, there was so much noise, so much confusion . . . she wasn’t sure what to do next. She lifted her hands, sat back on her heels and thought.

“Well?” Adven kept his hands on Rafe’s shoulders. “Why did you stop?”

She raised a hand. “Give me a moment.”

She placed her hands on Rafe’s chest and tried to visualize the leg like the branch of a tree. As she sent the energy down the branch, she found the branch twisted, broken.

“Let me see his foot.” She nodded at the prince. Tom lifted the bottom of the blanket.

Rafe’s boot was bent at a strange angle.

“We have to straighten his leg,” she said to Adven. “Sorry Rafe, this is going to hurt.”

She turned to the prince. “Tom, trade places with Adven. Hold down his shoulders.”

According to Tray, setting bones was part of a traveler’s training. Adven knew how to handle this type of injury—she hoped.

Mayten sat back on her heels while Adven moved into place. Without warning, he yanked on Rafe’s leg. The woodsman screamed and the forest fell silent. He bucked and tried to sit up, but Tom held him tight to the ground.

A quick glance at Nan showed