Path of the Psion Chapter 2 WIP

Chapter Two

　　“Papers, sir.” The guard at one of the many gates into the city of Haemfistead said. The scruffy blond half-elf sighed as he dug into the saddlebag on his horse- always the same with these guards. He pulled out a folded bit of parchment, stamped half a dozen times on the outside. The guard opened it up, matching the paper’s picture with the man’s face- oddly broad for someone with elvish heritage, hazel eyes set in bronzed skin, with a pair of scars on the left cheek.
　　“Alright, everything seems in order, Roark. You may proceed.”
　　The guard handed Roark back his papers, and he stuffed them haphazardly back into his pack. With a flick of the reigns, his horse clopped onto the road leading out.
　　Roark Ironbolt was fairly certain he was on a wild goose-chase. As the apprentice to Rolaf, a highly sought out blacksmith in the city of Haemfistead, it was his job to run most of the errands. Which would’ve been fine if Roark wasn’t convinced the aged dwarf was half senile. And so now Roark was off, sent outside the city to meet up with the merchant that was supposed to be delivering the shipment of ore and other materials for the month.
　　“So what if he’s late?” Roark griped, his horse knickering in what he took to be a response, “Old coot’s probably mixed the dates up again- bet the merchant isn’t due until next week.”
　　Still, at least I got to use the horse this time, Roark thought, shuddering at what would usually be an hours long walk from the city to the forest line. At least the horse didn’t complain about walking.
　　The sun dipped ever closer to the horizon, and the forest grew closer by the minute. Roark spied on the road two figures approaching from out of the woods.
　　Probably just some travelers, Roark mused- couldn’t be the merchant, they didn’t have a cart.
　　At least that’s what Roark thought until he noticed them collapse.
　　Roark spurred the horse on faster, from a trot to a gallop, skidding to a stop when he got close to the two travelers- a dwarf doing his best impression of a pincushion, and a cat attempting to carry him. Roark hopped off the back of the horse.
　　“Gods above- what happened to you two?” He said, rushing over and helping Swift carry the injured dwarf. Swift had a rough time focusing, the blow to his head still wreaking havoc on his brain.
　　“We, uh- were ambushed. Bunch of bandits. I tried to fight them but...”	“Bandits?” Roark said, and hoisted Tarish belly-first onto the back of his steed. Years of apprenticeship had toned his body much more visibly than the scrawny cat, “But so close to the city- surely the patrol would’ve caught bandits before they could set up.”
　　Swift opened his mouth to counter, but winced again, pressing a hand to his injured temple. Roark waved a hand dismissively at him, “Save your breath and help me tied down the dwarf. Don’t want him falling off,” he said, tossing one end of a line of rope to Swift and with his help securing Tarish to the horse. Roark hopped back up on the horse, and helped Swift up behind him.
　　“Alright, hold on tight- it’s going to get a bit bumpy,” He said, then snapped the reigns with a “Hyah!”
　　The three of them took off, galloping back towards the city with great speed. Roark glanced back once to check if the dwarf was slipping- thankfully his knots were holding.
　　“What’s your name, kid?” Roark called out behind, keeping Swift conscious.
　　“My- it’s Swift.”
　　“And the dwarf?”
　　“He’s uh... Tarish. Tarish Degrut.”
　　Roark cursed, recognizing Tarish’s clan name as that of Rolaf’s usual supplier. Oh he was not going to be happy about this.
　　The hard gallop got them to the city considerably quicker than Roark had left it. The same guard still stood at the gate.
　　“Sirs, your papers- oh sweet gods above what happened?” He exclaimed.
　　“Bandits in the woods. This man needs to get to a doctor, quickly!” Roark replied. The guard nodded, blowing a whistle. Another guard in the tower above popped out of a parapet.
　　“Bandits in the forest! Gather a group of riders and head out!” The gate-guard called up to him.
　　“Aye, sir!”
　　The guard turned back to Roark and his company, “Fastest route to a healer is directly through the main road and turn right down that alley between the Bread n’ Basket and the florist next to it.”
　　Roark nodded once, and barreled forward once again. The streets were quieting down, but there were still enough people about to be a nuisance. More than a few times a pedestrian had to dive out of Roark’s path as he cut down the cobbled road through Haemfistead. Archways and hanging gardens blurred past their vision as they raced through town, and the horse’s hooves scrabbled on the road as Roark took a hard turn down the aforementioned alleyway.
　　Not wide enough to be a road itself, but still wide enough to ride through, Roark and his passengers galloped down the darkened street, hidden from view by the tall inn on one side. Fortunately the slim path was devoid of any squatters or muggers- a problem Roark had encountered once or twice taking shortcuts through town before.
　　They burst out the other end onto a minor road, the healer’s shop practically in front of them. Roark dismounted.
　　“Get him untied,” He told Swift, and ran to the front door, fist pounding on the dark wood, “Come on, come on- open up!”
　　The door eventually swung open- on the other side stood a bespectacled woman in a leather apron.
　　“With all this damned knocking there better be an emergency!” She growled. Roark’s serious expression didn’t falter.
　　“Well unless you don’t count a few crossbow bolts in the spine as an emergency, then I’d say yes.” Roark said, gesturing behind him. The healer’s face quickly went from peeved to gaunt as she saw the extent of the now untied Tarish’s wounds.
　　“Oh gods above- quickly! Get him in here!” She said, beckoning. Roark bounded back to the horse and quickly undid the knots Swift was faltering with. The two of them wrapped an arm under one of Tarish’s, and Roark grabbed the horse’s reigns, hobbling to the front door. The healer took Roark’s place as Roark tied up the horse to a fence post, and then headed inside. He shut the door behind them.
　　Inside, the healer and Swift carried Tarish to a cleared off table in the center of the room. Shelves of bottles, vials, flasks, and all sorts of labeled ingredients and tools lined the walls. The healer interlaced her fingers and cracked the joints, before pointing at Swift.
　　“You go sit down, you seem ready to collapse,” she then turned to Roark, “And you- fetch me a roll of cloth. Once I pull these out it’s going to get a lot more bloody.”
　　Roark nodded, “Oh- sure miss-”
　　“It’s doctor- doctor Aineswroot. I didn’t study the healing arts for eight years to be miss and misses’d at,” the doctor replied, and Roark quickly started scanning the shelves while Swift let himself slump into a particularly enticing corner of the room, exhausted. The healer poked around one of the shafts sticking out of Tarish’s back.
　　“He’s lucky he’s a dwarf- shot like that would kill a man. Much denser bones- comes from living with all that rock, I imagine,” she rambled as she scalpelled Tarish’s shirt open, and Roark finally managed to find the cloth, “Ah- there we are. Now all I have to do now is-” She started, gripping the first bolt firmly before abruptly pulling it out. Blood immediately flowed from the wound, the bolt having blocked it’s flow for the time.
　　“Now quickly- put it on the wound, plenty of pressure.” Aineswroot said as Roark pressed the cloth in the wound. She pulled out a vial of some white chalky substance, quickly powdering her hands before removing Roark’s from on top of the bandages. Pressing her hands firmly onto the cloth, she muttered an incantation- white runes drawing themselves on top of her fists before oozing down from her hands, through the cloth, and into the wound.
　　Aineswroot carefully removed the cloth, a congealed white substance coagulating the wound, “Ground peppermint- perfect reagent for a quick coagulant. Onto the next one, then?”
　　The two of them repeated the process on the rest of the grouped bolts, one at a time before finally sealing the last wound.
　　“Alright, I’m going to need to keep him here for fluid transfusion, plus his face is going to need some finer care,” Aineswroot said, walking around the table and grabbing a dark maroon bottle from off a shelf. She knelt in front of Swift and dabbed a bit of the viscous fluid inside on her finger, tracing a sigil on the crack in his head. He hissed a little as the mixture popped and fizzled, before disappearing.
　　Swift blinked a couple of times, the pain in his head fading quickly. The doctor stood back up and pointed at a door, “Washroom’s that way, best clean that face of yours up,” she then turned to Roark, “Now I understand an emergency as well as any, but I ain’t a charity case, love.”
　　Roark grimaced, patting his pockets, “I... Listen, I’m Rolaf’s apprentice- just send a bill there and we’ll figure it out, yeah?”
　　Aineswroot pursed her lips, before finally responding, “Alright then. I’m feeling particularly nice today. I’ll let you off the hook,” She glanced through the open door Swift went through, the cat puzzled by the sink.
　　“You turn the little knobby thing and water comes out- pretty wizard, ain’t it?” She called out. Swift jumped a little at her voice, then slowly reached out and turned on the faucet. Aineswroot grinned as Swift discovered the marvels of indoor plumbing. Stretching, she took a seat at the desk behind the front counter.
　　“I’ll send a page tomorrow with the bill. Got a week before I start adding interest, you understand?”
　　Roark nodded, and Swift stepped out of the washroom. This was the first time he was able to actually see the extent of the damage Tarish took- the small repeating crossbow must have emptied it’s whole clip into him. Goblin certainly had a heavy trigger finger. And his face was mostly scab at this point, but his nose crooked at a wrong angle.
　　“Is he going to be alright?” Swift ask, genuinely concerned for the for the dwarf he had just met earlier that day.
　　“Don’t worry yourself, sweetie- I’m a professional.” Aineswroot said with a smile and a wink. Swift furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at the wink, but decided not to ask.
　　“Alright... Um, thank you for fixing my head, how much do I owe?”
　　Aineswroot waved her hand dismissively, “I’ll just put it on his tab, alright?” she said, gesturing over to Roark, who put on a most pained expression.
　　“Great... I think we’ll be leaving now. Swerve, come with me.”
　　“Um, actually it’s Swift-” the cat started, but Roark cut him off.
　　“Yeah, that- now come on.” the young man insisted, grabbing the cat by the wrist. He let out a yelp as Roark dragged him out the door, and started unhitching his horse.
　　“Listen, that dwarf in there?” Roark started, “He was supposed to deliver a shipment of materials to the blacksmith I’m apprenticing under.”
　　Swift nodded as Roark continued, “And since you’re the only one who actually knows what happened, you’re going to explain it to him.”
　　Swift blinked, “I... Guess that makes sense?”
　　Roark grunted, and started leading the horse. Swift bounded after him.
　　“We’re not riding there?”
　　Roark shook his head, “I’m going to need the extra time to figure out how I’m going to break the news to master Rolaf about tomorrow’s mail.”
　　Swift grimaced, “I really was going to pay her for-”
　　Roark waved a hand, “Nothing doing, it’s in the past now,” he said with a heavy sigh, looking towards the sky. Bright oranges and yellows painted the eastern half, and the stars were starting to pop to life in the west. The two moons hung in the sky, waxing asymmetrically towards a new cycle. It was getting dark, and Roark prayed this talk would go as beautifully as the night seemed to be.