Read Online Hidden Power by Tracy Lane - Free Book Online Page B

more than to track the wounded animal into the brush where it had disappeared, not only to put it out of its misery but also to have that black, silken hide adorn the floor of his humble cabin.
    But mortals came first, and the man in front of him looked gravely ill… if not already dying. He was an odd sort, and even as Lutheran approached him he felt wary, almost more wary than if he were approaching the panther! 
    The man was tall and thin beneath his shredded cloak of foreign finery, but clearly possessing a strength far beyond his physical stature to have survived such a savage attack.
    His face was lean and severe, perhaps aided by the wiry black goatee that covered his thin, gray lips. His eyes were closed but they fluttered behind the waxen lids, as if the man was struggling to stay conscious, or already deep asleep.
    Lutheran surveyed the landscape carefully before lowering his gun, listening closely for another black panther charge as he bent to feel the man’s pulse. It was soft and weak, although the man’s skin was almost inhumanly warm. 
    Lutheran slid his rifle over his shoulder awkwardly before lifting the man into his arms. He was surprisingly light for a man so tall, and his whole body vibrated as if he were fueled by a furnace instead of a heart and lungs.
    Lutheran’s cabin wasn’t much to look at from the outside – or from the inside either, for that matter – but it was warm and hearty and safe from giant black panthers. 
    He knew that much at least!
    He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen an animal so wild in the Wandering Woods, but stranger things had happened and when beasts were hungry, he figured they’d hunt most anywhere.
    Lutheran’s bed was soft and warm as he laid the injured man inside. His patient was unconscious, mouth slack, eyes no longer moving rapidly beneath their lids. Even his shimmering silver hair, which had seemed to have a life of its own during the attack, now lay limp and flat against Lutheran’s pillow.
    Lutheran set about studying his herb cabinet, selecting various natural remedies and crushing or bending or flaking or pouring them into a large copper pot. He added water and set it over the fire to boil while he tended to his patient’s wounds.
    The man’s gorgeous cloak was torn and tattered and his patient roused momentarily as Lutheran slipped it off his muscular frame. Beneath it the man wore a simple tunic of white and more gold thread. There were tears here, too, and fresh blood but when Lutheran unbuttoned the tunic to tend the man’s wounds, the blood had already dried.
    He ground a fresh mixture of sulfur swamp mud and loganberry root to aid the healing, and dabbed it onto the scratches left behind by the giant, vicious panther. 
    “What are you doing?” the man asked, weakly, eyes fluttering open and then closed.
    “You’ve been attacked,” said Lutheran gently, covering the home remedy with fresh camaroon leaves to keep the air and other irritants off of it. “This will help you heal.”
    The man’s eyelids fluttered open and flashed impatience. “I need none of your barbaric home treatments,” he sputtered before his eyelids closed again. 
    “Magic,” he sighed, “is all I need.”
    Lutheran chuckled to himself and shook his head. He left his patient to his incoherent mumblings and turned his attention to the simmering pot instead, using a metal ladle to spoon the steaming mixture into an earthen bowl. 
    It smelled ripe of healing and goodness as Lutheran sat back down next to the man. His nostrils rippled and his patient opened his eyes. 
    “What is that hideous smell?” the man asked, trying to stir but too weak to make much of an effort before crumpling back into the bed linens with a grunt.
    Lutheran ignored him and filled a wooden spoon with a helping of the cloudy brown broth. “Your body needs rest,” he instructed the man as he slid the spoon into his mouth and forced him to drink. “This recipe will help you