King Of Souls (Book 2) by Matthew Ballard Page B

wound, it’ll fester. Make no mistake about that. I’ve seen folks linger for months from an atter attack. The atter poison scrambles their mind, and they never quite recover.”
    “I can remedy that.” Danielle searched her pouch for the right seeds.
    “Excuse me for being so forward, but you don’t look like any shaman I’ve ever seen,” Fizzle said. “You’re much prettier.” He cleared his throat, and a crimson blush spread across his cheeks.
    “A shaman? What’s that?”
    Fizzle stared at Danielle as if she’d declared the sky green. “Are you sure that atter didn’t hit you too?”
    “I’m quite sure Mister Fizzle.”
    “Not Mister Fizzle.” He smiled. “Just Fizzle, and a shaman fixes atter wounds and many other ailments besides.”
    “I should be able to mend her wounds.” Danielle shuffled through the thick ground cover and knelt beside Keely.
    Keely’s breathing sounded strong and steady, but, as Fizzle said, she appeared lost in a deep sleep.
    Danielle placed her hand near the blackened wound on Keely’s hip and sent green weaves of magic over the atter strike.
    Keely didn’t move, and the wound’s ghastly appearance remained unchanged.
    Danielle’s brow furrowed, and she reached for the healing salve stashed in her belt pouch. She palmed a glass vial and pulled loose its cork stopper before spreading glowing green gel near the edges of Keely’s wound.
    Keely’s skin glowed soaking in Danielle’s healing salve. As the salve sank deeper into Keely’s skin, the glow faded like a candle drained of wax, but the blackened wound persisted.
    “I don’t know anything about that fancy green lotion of yours, but, unless you’re a shaman, I doubt it’ll help her.”
    Danielle sighed, stood, and faced Fizzle. “Do you know where I might find one of these shaman? I don’t want to watch my friend die.”
    Fizzle directed his gaze upward toward the fading storm and scratched his white bearded face. “There’s Zen, of course, but I don’t think your friend is in any condition to travel so far.” His gaze flickered toward Danielle in an appraising manner. “Besides, I’m not sure you’d find a friendly face in Zen.” He tapped his foot and rubbed his chin. “There’s a shaman that travels to the villages surrounding Zen on a regular schedule. Last I heard he was at Arossa, but he’d probably be to Misho by now.”
    “How far away is Misho?”
    Fizzle barked out a short laugh. “Are you just out here wandering around? The desert is a dangerous place. You’ve no Paka and, from what I can see, little water. Where are you from exactly?”
    “I’ve traveled far from the north.”
    “You’re from Calag? Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” He lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder as if someone might overhear. “But, I’d be careful mentioning that around here. Most folks in Alar don’t care much for Calagians,” his voice a whisper.
    “I don’t think you understand… Fizzle. I’m from much further north.”
    “North of Calag?” He stared at Danielle as if orange feathers sprouted from her head. “Miss, the only place further north than Calag is the forbidden desert and …” Fizzle’s jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. “I best be on my way miss.” He lifted his dusty cap off his head, revealing a shiny bald scalp and bowed. “I’m sorry about your friend. Be careful where you step, and you’ll be fine.” Fizzle turned from Danielle and started back the way he came.
    Danielle’s stomach sank. “Wait! Please wait! She’ll die unless you help me.”
    Fizzle paused, and his shoulders sagged. “Should’ve minded my own business….” He muttered under his breath as he turned and faced Danielle.
    His face fell in defeat. “I don’t know where you’re from, and I don’t want to know. Okay?”
    Danielle nodded wringing her hands.
    “This is going to land me in trouble isn’t it?”
    “No. It won’t I promise. Just lead me as far as Misho,