The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  He grunted.

  “So? What about a healing potion?”

  The mages all made a face. The male mage holding the sparking wand shook his head.

  “Oh, sure. If you want to fuse the bone back together that might work. But healing in that way is only good for quick fixes. I’ve seen fighters come back with bones attached the wrong way round, or off-center.”

  “Is it just a broken bone?”

  Ryoka shook her head and grimaced.

  “Bone’s shattered. Splinters are in the flesh.”

  All the people sitting at the table – and in earshot of the conversation – winced. Ceria however just nodded to herself and put a finger to her lips.

  “I thought so. If they were trying to hurt you, they had to injure you badly enough that you wouldn’t be able to recover so easily.”

  “Why don’t healing potions work? They fix people with stab wounds up in seconds. Why not bones?”

  Ceria shrugged.

  “Healing potions just accelerate the body’s natural healing. But this is far too complicated for a potion to fix. In situations like this, time or magic is the only solution.”

  Ceria looked at Ryoka.

  “What you need is a high-level [Healer]…no, better yet a [Cleric].”

  Garia looked confused. Ryoka was confused, but her expression didn’t change outwardly.

  “What’s the difference? I thought they were both the same.”

  Again, all the mages shook their heads. The female mage who owned the staff with the glowing orb whose name Ryoka had forgot answered.

  “[Healers] just use herbs and minor spells to treat injuries. That’s fine, but if you want to heal this leg within the year, you need a real magic practiced by a mage. And a high-level one at that.”

  “And how much would that cost?”

  The female mage hesitated. Ceria looked glum as she answered for her.

  “Something like that…that would cost at least a few hundred gold coins. And that’s only if you could find a high-level healer. And they’re very rare.”

  Deathly silence fell over the table. Calruz was grimacing darkly, and the vice-captain reluctantly shook his head at him.

  “Too bad.”

  Ryoka pushed her chair back and stood up. She paused and winced as her bad foot touched the ground, but then began limping towards the stairwell. Garia, distressed, called out.

  “Where are you going, Ryoka?”

  The other girl didn’t look around.

  “Sleep. I’m tired.”

  Instantly, the vice-captain stood up.

  “In that case allow me to help you up the stairs.”

  Ryoka eyed the stairwell and looked back at him.

  “I’ve got it.”

  “I insist. Please, let me—”

  “No.”

  The vice-captain hesitated. He was looking from the steep stairwell to Ryoka’s splinted and bandaged leg. She set her jaw stubbornly.

  “I don’t need help.”

  “But—”

  “Piss. Off.”

  Ryoka brushed off his hands and began dragging herself up the stairs. She had a method for it; she walked backwards up the stairs so she didn’t have to move her bad leg more than necessary. It was awkward and cumbersome, but the look in her eyes dared anyone to give her a hand.

  Crestfallen, the vice-captain returned to the table and sat down. The other warrior patted him on the back. Garia awkwardly apologized.

  “Sorry. She’s just—unfriendly.”

  “I like her.”

  Everyone looked at Calruz. The Minotaur was watching Ryoka with approval as she swung herself up the stairs.

  “She reminds me of females of my kind. Fiery. The ones who would stab any male that offends. Much better than the simpering human ones I keep meeting.”

  He stood up. The vice-captain eyed him worriedly. Ceria leaned forwards and poked Calruz hard in the back.

  “Calruz. I wouldn’t bother her. Human females aren’t like Minotaur females.”

  He snorted dismissively.

  “Bah. All that’s needed is courage and spirit to win her over.”

  He knocked his chair back and walked over to the stairwell. The vice-captain looked like he wanted to say something, but lost the initiative. Calruz called over his shoulder.

  “Don’t wait for me. I’ll find you at the Guild later.”

  The remaining adventurers watched Calruz ascending the stairs and muttered amongst themselves.

  “Should we stop him?”

  “If we do, it’ll be a fight. You know what happens when he loses his temper.”

  “Another destroyed inn? We’ll lose all the money we just earned!”

  The vice-captain’s eyes narrowed. He drained his mug and stood up.

  “This is unacceptable. I’m going up there.”

  Ceria grabbed him by the shoulder.

  “Calm down Gerial.”

  He glared at her.

  “You’re letting him go? Are you mad?”

  She shook her head.

  “Calruz isn’t an idiot. He knows the law. He’ll go if he isn’t wanted, but that’s not what I meant. Ryoka Griffin can take care of herself. Or don’t you remember why we’re here?”

  He hesitated, but then everyone downstairs heard Calruz’s unmistakable bass rumble. From downstairs, Garia could hear Ryoka’s annoyed voice. She hadn’t known Ryoka long, but Garia knew her well enough to guess what she was saying.

  Garia started biting at her nails as Calruz’s voice rose and he made what sounded like an attempted joke. Ryoka snapped something but he kept talking.

  Uncertainly, Garia stood up. None of the adventurers stopped her as she walked to the stairs and looked up. Both human and minotaur were standing outside her room, arguing. Well, Ryoka was arguing, while Calruz was…flirting.

  Which was a mistake, Garia knew. She heard Ryoka’s voice as she snapped at Calruz.

  “Get out.”

  He said something in reply, and she pushed at him. Since he was wearing armor and outweighed her by at least two hundred pounds he didn’t move. Calruz captured Ryoka’s hand in his own. Garia saw Ryoka’s eyes narrow.

  The patrons of the inn downstairs clearly heard the crack, and the bellow of pain from Calruz. From her position on the stairs, Garia saw and heard Ryoka punch the Minotaur in the face and then saw the Calruz’s form overbalance on the top of the stairs. She watched in slow motion as the massive figure of the Minotaur reeled back from the blow. He grabbed at the wall, but the wood splintered as it broke under his weight.

  If. If Calruz hadn’t insisted on wearing plate armor. If Ryoka hadn’t hit him quite as hard. If the inn was newer and wasn’t so old. But there were no ifs. Calruz toppled down the stairs in a terrific crash of metal on wood, splintering the stairwell, and smashing the floorboards on the ground where he landed.

  Everyone stared at the fallen Minotaur as he stared up at the ceiling. Half of the inn’s patrons were already making for the doors, while the other half waited for the ensuing bloodbath.

  At the top of the stairs Ryoka raised her middle finger, flipped the prone Minotaur off, and then limped into her room. The door slammed behind her.

  Calruz blinked up as the remaining pieces of the stairwell fell down around him and the innkeeper screamed in horror. He stared bemusedly up at Garia and the rest of his adventuring party. Then he grinned.

  “Strong. I like her quite a lot.”

  1.05 R

  As soon as she slammed the door shut, Ryoka collapsed against her bed. Static seemed to crawl over her eyes and roaring filled her ears.

  Pain. It was coming back.

  She would have lain there forever, but the pain made her move. There was only one relief.

  Ryoka staggered over to a chest at the foot of her bed. She fumbled at it and realized it was locked. Key. Where was the damn key?

  The static was everywhere and the pain was getting worse. Ryoka had just finished opening the lock when she g
agged and nearly threw up. It hurt.

  Inside the chest was a roll of odd bandages and several green potions. Ryoka instantly grabbed one and popped the cork.

  Sitting with her back against the bed, she stretched out her bad leg as far as she was able. The bandages were red with blood now, and the flesh was beginning to puff up. She’d pushed too far.

  Gingerly, blacking out with pain, Ryoka poured the green liquid over her leg and tried not to scream. But the effects were instantaneous.

  The pain—vanished. For an instant, a wonderful instant, all was well. Ryoka watched in blissful peace as the swelling around her leg faded, and below the bandages, the broken skin and torn flesh closed.

  But it didn’t last. After only a few seconds, pain started to return to the area. Dreadful, biting agony.

  The bones. The bits of shattered bones that couldn’t be healed. They cut into her flesh and stopped the healing. Ryoka stared down at her leg. It hurt, but far less now. At least, for the moment. She had a few hours to half a day, depending on what she did to her leg before her flesh would tear and—

  The bandages were now completely bloody, but Ryoka didn’t dare change them. They were the only things keeping the rest of her leg on her body.

  Magic. She sensed it in the cloth bindings. They’d been what—ten gold coins? More expensive than the healing potions, even. But they had magic in the stitching, or so the [Healer] had claimed. And she felt it. They were the only reason she could move about, let alone keep her leg…intact.

  The magic in the bandages provided stability, structure, and stasis. She could actually move about on a leg where she couldn’t feel anything below her knee due to the bindings holding her leg in place. And so long as she applied a healing potion every few hours, she could keep the damage from her leg at bay.

  But eventually, the magic always wore off. And then the swelling would begin, and if it kept on too long the leg would start to rot.

  Magic bandages and healing potions. Ryoka thumped her head back against the footrest of her bed. They could barely keep her injuries in check, but not heal them. What they were really doing was buying time. Time, until she could find a way to heal herself—

  Or lose the leg.

  She couldn’t feel it anymore. Rather, it was the broken stump just below her kneecap that screamed agony at her each time she agitated it. But her foot and lower leg?

  Nothing.

  The [Healer] had told her it was still attached, still living flesh so long as she kept healing it with a potion, but it wasn’t about to start healing on its own. It was too badly damaged.

  Maybe if there was a surgeon, one from her world. They could have realigned the bones and connected them with metal rods. If she’d been in a hospital she would have had a chance. But here?

  Ryoka put her face in her hands. Garia kept suggesting better [Healers], or treated her injuries as something that would heal given time. But Ryoka didn’t have any time left.

  “What do you think splintered bone means?”

  Garia didn’t get it. But then she hadn’t seen Ryoka’s leg in the moments afterwards. She hadn’t seen how it wasn’t attached, wasn’t solid anymore. The adventurers understood.

  Crushed bone. Splintered bone. Not a break or a fracture. It wasn’t like joining two pieces back together. Ryoka’s right leg was a mass of bone splinters without a chance of reattaching on their own.

  Medically, the answer was simple. Until the modern era, there would have been no chance any other way. And even then—her legs wouldn’t have ever been the same. Ryoka knew what had to be done. They’d told her as she sat in shock as the [Healer] poured potions on her leg and tried to save her flesh.

  Amputation. Either that or a spell that she couldn’t afford.

  For a while she’d hoped it was just her imagination. She’d bought the bandages from the [Healer], scraped together all the money she’d earned so far to buy enough healing potions to last until now, and prayed that her leg would start to heal. But each day passed with blood and pain and no relief.

  No one could help her. Ryoka knew that. Garia cared, and even the Horns of Hammerad had stopped by. But what could they do? A hundred—no, hundreds of gold coins. Why make them worry? Why waste energy reassuring them with useless words?

  So Ryoka pretended not to worry and did everything herself. Because of pride. Because she didn’t want to appear weak – because that in itself was weakness.

  Because there was nothing anyone could do to help her.

  Ryoka rested her head against her arm. Pain. Cut it away. They said it would be quick. No. But it was the only choice. She had—three healing potions left. Enough for a day or two. And then she’d be out of money and out of time. Unless she could pay. But she had no money.

  Well, she knew someone who had thousands, tens of thousands of gold coins, didn’t she? Of course. And it could be done. There was still a chance.

  But the cost—

  Ah, the cost.

  Ryoka closed her eyes. Damnation. That was the cost. And she still wasn’t sure if it was worth her leg. She’d thought about it long and hard. And she still wasn’t sure. But she wanted to know the cost. And to do that, she had to bargain.

  So what Ryoka was really doing, what she was really thinking as she sat in the wet puddle of the healing potion and blood was nothing. Nothing. She could worry, or fret, and she was afraid and in pain, but there was nothing she could really do. All she was doing, in truth, behind everything, was waiting.

  Waiting. Waiting for her to arrive. Waiting to make the choice.

  In her mind she could feel the wind on her face and feel the ground flying beneath her feet. In her mind she could see the consequences of her choice.

  A world burned by fire. The dead lying in piles. War, endless and putrid. That was the cost.

  Ryoka closed her eyes and tried not to cry.

  —-

  It was evening by the time Garia managed to excuse herself from the inn and make her way back to the Runner’s Guild. By that point she’d already imbibed quite a lot of liquid, most of it alcoholic.

  Garia had an extremely high tolerance for alcohol, so she only stumbled every now and then as she jogged towards the Runner’s Guild. She wasn’t intending on making a delivery of course; that would be dangerous in the fading light even without being drunk, but she wanted to pick up her payment for the week. She was running low on money after insisting she pay for her meal.

  She’d left the rest of the Horns of Hammerad in the semi-destroyed inn, still drinking and talking about how they could help Ryoka. It was strange. Garia had only heard of the Horns as one of the up-and-coming adventurer teams, but she hadn’t really believed the rumors about them being honor-bound like their leader.

  Well, everyone knew that Minotaurs were supposed to be honorable, but that was hard to believe when you saw one up close. A Minotaur’s word was as good as a Knight’s supposedly, but how did you square that with their cow heads and fierce tempers? But Calruz hadn’t been overly violent – he’d even paid for all the damage he’d caused.

  It was strange. The number of non-humans Garia had seen, let alone met she could probably count on both her hands. This far north you didn’t see any of the other races, not even Drakes or Gnolls. But Calruz had seemed so—so—human.

  And he liked Ryoka. And that was something Garia wasn’t going to think about. Instead, she was going to open the door to the Runner’s Guild without falling on her face and walk inside.

  Most of the Runners glanced up and then away, ignoring Garia as she entered. She wasn’t particularly powerful within the Runner’s Guild, but she was liked well enough that no one bothered her. That was what Garia preferred. Being unnoticed was safest.

  Garia noticed a commotion occurring around the receptionist’s counter, which made her heart sink. The unnoticed part of her reputation also meant she wouldn’t be helped until they sorted out what was going on. Glumly, Garia went to sit down at one of the tables when she heard some
one calling her name.

  “Garia! How’s my favorite City Runner?”

  Garia’s heart skipped a beat and then started going into overdrive as she recognized the voice. Fals. She turned around and gave him what she hoped was an annoyed look.

  “I bet you say that to every Runner, Fals.”

  “Only the ones I like.”

  Fals walked over and smiled at Garia. He was handsome and tall, and Garia could see several female Runners glaring at her as he approached. She tried not to smile back too quickly.

  “Are you finished with your deliveries for the day?”

  “Yup. Nothing too special; I did a few trips to Lindol and back, but that’s it. How about you? Taking a late-night request?”

  Garia shook her head.

  “I’m just collecting payment. What’s with all the panic, though?”

  She pointed to the group of Runners and staff of the Runner’s Guild who were standing around in a cluster at the counter, arguing and looking panicked. Fals made a face.

  “You won’t believe this, but for the last few days Lady Magnolia’s been asking for a delivery. Trouble is, she only wants one Runner to do it. Guess who?”

  Garia didn’t even need to think.

  “Ryoka. Oh. And what did the Guild tell her?”

  “Oh, I don’t know the details…”

  Fals waved a hand self-deprecatingly, but that was just an act. Garia had no doubt he knew exactly what had been said, and probably had a part in shaping the message. He was one of the most influential Runners in all the northern city-states and the local Guildmasters listened to him.

  “The Guild told her Ryoka was indisposed. We kept offering replacement Runners, but Magnolia kept insisting that she only wanted Ryoka. And now…well, it sounds like she came in person and demanded some answers just a few minutes ago. I was going to see what happened myself. Want to listen?”

  Garia hesitated. It probably wasn’t wise to put herself in the spotlight—but then again, Fals was the one in charge. So she nodded and followed him across the room.

  Fals whistled as he passed the board full of delivery requests. He stopped and pointed to one unmarked request Garia recognized.