Barbarian King

2. The Quest

ISABELLA

"There are rumors, Isabella," She finally whispered, her voice barely audible above the howling wind.

"Rumors that you possess a gift, a power that has long been forgotten."

My heart skipped a beat, the blood rushing through my veins like a raging river. My mind raced to comprehend her words, to grasp the implications of what she was insinuating.

How could she know? How could anyone know? The walls of secrecy I had so carefully constructed threatened to crumble, leaving me exposed to a vicious world.

"You're a healer," she continued, her voice barely above a breath. "Maybe your entire family is."

She was right. And wrong. I was a healer, but no one else in my family was. There was still a chance the younger ones could be, like Travis, Lily or Ilyas. But for now, it was only me.

I felt the world pause. My heart dropped, a heavy weight settling in the pit of my stomach. All 19 years of peace, secrecy, and solace seemed to fade away in an instant, replaced by a daunting reality that I had fought so hard to keep hidden.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I hissed, the words escaping my lips with a venomous fervor.

Panic coursed through my veins, urging me to flee, to protect myself. "Come on, Lily, we don't need anything from her," I said, gripping Lily's wrist tightly, turning away swiftly and stomping away.

But the seamstress's desperate plea echoed in my ears, refusing to be silenced. "Please," she bellowed behind me, her voice laced with a mix of desperation and determination.

I stopped in my tracks, my body frozen in place, my mind warring with conflicting emotions. A part of me yearned to run, to retreat to the safety of secrecy, to protect myself from the potential dangers that lay ahead. But another part of me, that flicker of compassion buried deep within my heart, compelled me to reconsider.

"My husband, he's a butcher," the seamstress's voice trembled, her words laden with a plea. "We'll give you meat. And as much fur as you need to get you through the winter. But, please, I need your help."

My cheeks burned with heat, and I was too consumed by worry to distinguish whether it was the cold slapping against my face or the anger bubbling inside. I turned back, my eyes analyzing her own, searching for the truth hidden within her desperate plea.

"You know what accusations like that could do to me," I whispered, my voice a mere breath carried by the wind. "I don't know what rumors you've heard, but I'm telling you, they're not true."

She ignored me, her eyes filled with a determined resolve, as if she had already made up her mind. She carried on with her pleading, her voice laced with a raw desperation that tugged at my heartstrings.

"My sister's in the Northern tribes," she revealed, her voice cracking with emotion. "She's sick, real sick. She won't make it through the frost. You can save her. You have sisters, don't you? Please," she implored, her words melting into a plea that resonated deep within my soul.

I shook my head, torn between the desire to help and the overwhelming weight of the task at hand. Leaning closer to the seamstress, I whispered cautiously, my voice barely audible. "The frost is in three days. Even if I was a healer, it would take me days to get to the Northern tribes, and she'd be dead by then. I'm sorry," I uttered, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air.

"We have a horse," the seamstress pleaded, her voice filled with desperation, her eyes brimming with tears. "It can carry you swiftly to the Northern tribes. You'd be there in half a day and back in another half."

My heart tightened in my chest as I took in her words, the weight of the situation settling heavily upon me. I swallowed hard, my throat constricting with a mix of fear and determination. I turned my face to the side, unable to meet her gaze, and muttered, my voice barely audible, "Fur and meat?"

The air around us grew still, the gravity of my question hanging in the air like a thick fog. The seamstress's eyes widened, filled with both understanding and sorrow. She knew what I meant. I'd confirmed her suspicions.

Silence stretched between us, broken only by the distant sound of the horse's hooves against the ground, a reminder of the urgency that pressed upon me. I could feel the weight of the decision bearing down upon me, threatening to crush my resolve.

But then, a flicker of determination ignited within me, pushing aside the doubts and fears that threatened to consume me.

"Lily, go home. When Maria returns, tell her I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Izzy," Lily whispered, her voice trembling with concern, tears welling up in her small blue eyes as she gazed at me. The flickering firelight danced across her worried face, casting shadows that accentuated her fragile features. "What are you doing?"

I swallowed hard. Determined to keep a brave face, I mustered a weak smile, my lips quivering slightly. "I'll be okay, Lily, I swear it," I replied softly, my voice laced with a mixture of determination and uncertainty. "I'll be back by tomorrow, and we'll have all the furs and meat we need. Isn't that great?"

As the bitter wind howled outside, I reached out and gently pulled Lily's hat tighter over her forehead, the warmth of my touch contrasting with the frosty air. I hoped the gesture would shield her delicate frame from the harshness of the impending journey, an attempt to protect her from the cold, both physically and emotionally.

I straightened my back, my eyes meeting the seamstress's with a newfound resolve.

The wind howled, carrying with it a bitter chill that cut through my cloak. When I was 15, we'd endured the coldest winter of our lives. No meat, no fur, and no where to hunt. Many of of those in the Southern tribe were desperate, including my parents. They ventured beyond the walls to hunt for us, and never returned.  Maria went after them and when she'd returned alone, I knew. They were gone, forever.

That left me and Maria, to take care of our four other siblings, with Travis still being a baby — only 6 months — Lily, only 2, Ilyas, 6, and Jonah, 10.

My and thoughts were interrupted as the seamstress brought her horse to the front of her hut, the sounds of its hooves echoing in the silence.

"Lead the way," I said, my voice steady, as I took a step forward.

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a/n: next chapter they meet ;)))