The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 01

The life of the wandering Healer wasn't such a bad one. As one of a team that makes a circuit of the villages in this backwater, mostly agricultural corner of the Kingdom, he got to enjoy the benefits of plenty of fresh air and exercise as he traveled from one community to the next. The Order of St. Thrimble, his employer, didn't have the money to support giving its employees horses, which were notoriously expensive beasts. He knew because he, like all of the students, had been forced to select a minor in Magic School, said minor being from a long list of useful non-magical skills. He had chosen Accounting because it was at the top of the list, and fortunately he'd turned out to be nearly as good at it as he was in the Healing Arts. He earned a few silver bits on the side doing the books for the villages on the circuit, as well as the Order, but it was never enough to get him a horse. He could have gotten a mule, but they tended to be temperamental and could give you a nasty kick or bite if you weren't careful. Plus they still had to be fed and put somewhere when you weren't traveling.

He stood just over six feet tall and was wearing his usual traveling attire: a medium-weight cotton shirt with its sleeves rolled up, exposing sun-browned skin and well-muscled arms, and light-coloured trousers made from a heavy cotton fabric that were tucked into the top of sturdy knee-high leather boots. A pale yellow, wide-brimmed straw hat covered an "enhanced forehead" (as he called it) surrounded by short hair that was partly its original brown and mostly gray. His eyes were the colour of the ocean on a sunny day and the lines on his clean-shaven face were much less than one would expect of a man of 55 who spent a lot of time outdoors. After travelling the circuit between the villages, he returned to the much larger market town of Havisham to file his reports, catch up on the news and publications, and generally take care of business before heading out for another round.

He muttered something best not repeated as he skirted around a puddle left by last night's rain, knowing from experience how clingy and sticky the mud is around here. At least it had cooled off after the warmth of the past week, he thought as he used his six-foot staff to steady his footing as he slid past the innocuous-looking puddle. The large, heavy pack on his back didn't help. He, and pretty well everyone else who lived and visited in the area, hoped that the Havisham Road's paving project would lead to some badly-needed repair and restoration of the local roads and lanes. Otherwise, the Royal Revenue Service's fancy horses and coach would get stuck again, and wouldn't that be too bad. He smirked at the thought as he squished through some more damp spots. Earth magic helped to make and fix roads, but he didn't know the spells and was no engineer to be able to apply them properly anyway.

Fed up with his slow progress, he finally decided that it would be worth the cost in energy to banish the water from the path ahead of him as he walked, figuring he was using more energy slogging through the glutinous mud than he would sending the water to the sides of the path. He'd had a bit more than ten years to practise this spell, and could clear out a strip a yard wide by ten long with only some effort. Most of his pay from the Order of St. Thrimble was in the form of room and board at the villages, where he was always able to get good meals and a comfortable bed, but there were a few perks, the best being that the comfortable bed occasionally had someone else in it.

The someone in Provis had packed him a delicious lunch of bread, meat, and cheese, along with filling up his canteens with the local beer, the combined effect of which was making him want to have a nap instead of walking. He burped loudly and smiled as he remembered the somewhat indignant letter that she had included with it.

"Dear Harold. You are the best of the many, many lovers I have had. Your kisses are soft and gentle, and I have never had anyone brush my lips with his fingertips the way you do to stoke my fire. The way you lick my nipples and stroke and massage my saggy tits inflames my pussy long before you even reach it. You find a way to make massaging my feet and legs so sexy that it gets my juices flowing and my clitoris so hard that those soft squeezes and probes by your fingers set my whole body on fire. The deep probing of your tongue and gentle sucking on my labia and clitoris never fail to make me orgasm so hard that I have to put a pillow over my mouth to keep from waking the neighbours." She lived in a house on the eastern outskirts of the village, well away from anyone else, but the noise she sometimes made when he really got her going did need a bit of muffling. "Only then, when I am weak and helpless," Harold snorted at the thought, as they were the last words one would use to describe her, "you lick and kiss your way up my body, inflame my tits with more attention, and then finally fill my hot, needy pussy with your delightful thick cock. You play with me, sometimes thrusting hard to blow my mind, then gently to keep me on the edge, until I finally flip you over and ride on you. Even then you always lick and suck my nipples until finally I come again and then you fill me with your hot cum."

"But last night, you CHEATED! I had planned to lick you clean and keep after you until you were hard again so that you could take me from behind and keep pounding me the way you know how, until at long last we would come again and finally fall asleep in each other's arms. But instead, you used your Mage's Touch to send those little sparks into my nipples and breasts, and your Mage's Cock to fill my womanhood and zap my clitoris with more! You set my whole body on fire and played it like a fiddle until my orgasm tore through it and left me unable to do anything but sleep it off. That smug little smirk on your face this morning when I found I didn't even need a quickie nearly made me put something nasty into your beer, you awful, loving man!"

"Oh, and the men say thanks for the clockwork buzzing toys you gave me. You've reduced wear and tear on their fleshy delights quite a bit. But when you come back, I will be waiting, and you will not cheat me again, mister! Love always, and all ways, Martha." Martha was 65, only five-foot-five, with long, gray hair, expressive brown eyes over a somewhat fleshy nose and a wide smile. She also had a nearly lifelong sex addiction "problem" that had drawn nearly all the local men and many of the women (sometimes even husband and wife together) into her boudoir. Harold enjoyed making love to the women who wanted it, and with his deep knowledge of physiology in general, he knew how to leave them exhausted and satisfied. Martha took a lot more work than some of the others, so he had to resort to the Mage's Touch when he needed a good night's sleep for the following day's trip. He would have to remember to send a couple of the village's young studs to keep her occupied the next time he visited.

At this time in late May, his favourite time of the year, the world was exploding in green. The air was filled with the smells of flowers, the earth in the fields, growing things, and the faint salty tang of the distant sea. The route from Provis to Magwitch followed well-marked, arrow-straight country roads of varying quality bordered by fields green with newly-sprouted crops. They were usually corn, wheat, or hay, but he noted where a farmer was rotating with something different, like beans, turnips, carrots, or beets. He paused every so often to cast a Blessing on the fields that he could see. It didn't help the plants grow, which would take way too much Magic, but instead made the various bugs that liked to munch on the crops far more visible to the birds that eat them, and was very effective. The landscape was flat or gently rolling hills, which made walking much easier than in some circuits in other parts of the Kingdom. The long views were often interrupted by large patches of woodland that were carefully maintained by their owners as homes for the birds and other animals.

Another perk of his job was that when the locals were expecting the Healer to show up, there was often someone waiting in the road bordering the farthest field ready to give him a lift in the back of a wagon. Said wagon often happened to need some sort of minor repair, or maybe the horse pulling it needed some sort of minor repair, or sometimes there were one or more people in need of somewhat more urgent repairs. Either way, he would gladly do what was necessary for the person who went out of his or her way to be there for him. He had a long-standing suspicion that there was some sort of selection process involved, but nobody would give him a straight answer when he asked. He had also noted that the likelihood of getting a ride was proportional to how nice the weather was, which made sense since nobody alive wanted to sit out in the rain or cold. Fortunately, his Ward spell served to repel rain and snow (and bugs) and he could keep himself warm with good clothes and boots.

Harold arrived at the usual pickup point for Magwitch on time just after noon and an hour after his meal and found a familiar person waiting for him, perched on the driver's seat of an empty hay wagon. She and the horse were resting in the shade of a large tree, through which a northerly breeze was rustling. When she saw him, she dismounted from the wagon and ran up to meet him, all but throwing herself into his arms, much to his surprise. His heavy pack made him lose his balance and he abruptly sat down hard.

"Oops! Sorry!" she apologized hastily in her war, mellow voice, grabbing his extended right hand and hauling him to his feet, nearly wrenching his arm from its socket. She was a farm girl through and through, five-foot-nine, with shoulder-length honey-blonde hair, a smile to rival the sunshine, a straight, medium-sized nose and eyes that were his favourite shade of green. Her nicely filled-out, plain white blouse had short sleeves that exposed her well-toned muscles, and her dark brown skirt that went down to mid-shin, along with her practical farmer's boots that reached the skirt's bottom, concealed those in her legs. On her left ring finger were a hand-carved wooden engagement ring and a gold wedding band. "Let me get that off you," she continued, deftly removing his pack and casually tossing it onto the back of the wagon, where it landed with a heavy thud. He hastily retrieved his fallen staff as she did so.

"Helen, good Heavens, what happened to you?" he asked with concern, now finally able to see that her attractive round face was marred by several scratches and a blooming black eye, her arms also had some scratches and bruises and the skirt on her wide hips was looking the worse for the wear.

"Brenda and I had a disagreement on which of us was to pick you up," she replied, moving a little stiffly. "but I managed to, uh, persuade her that if I got you, you would see her first when we got into the village." She obediently held still as Harold Healed the scratches and black eye with gentle brushings from glowing fingers, and blew the dirt from her skirt with his Cleaning spell.

"I see," he replied, shaking his head and smiling as she returned to the front of the cart to retrieve her lost wide-brimmed straw hat, whose similarity to his was because they came from the same shop. He checked the brown and white gelding and the wagon and found both in good working order. "I suppose that I'll have to Heal some similar damage to her?" Brenda was her sister, older than her twenty years by a year and a half, but she lived in the village and was in fact its mayor. She nodded, grinning.

"She's gotten soft with her desk job. But she's been doing good work there."

"She has certainly picked up the basics of accounting and administration quickly," he replied, getting up on the right side of the driver's bench as she mounted the left and picked up the reins.

"Get along, you," she said, flicking the reins. The horse turned its head to look at them, lifted its tail and let fly with a thunderous fart and voluminous release of turds before starting forward with a lurch that nearly unseated them. "Gods-damned nag! I'll send you to the glue factory! What's the world coming to when you get disrespected by your horse?" Maybe not having a horse wasn't such a bad thing after all, though this one was having no trouble pulling them through the wet laneway.

"So, what was so important that you had to beat up your sister to be here to collect me?" Harold asked as the wagon rattled and occasionally lurched. After a rather long pause, Helen turned to look him in the eye and placed her right hand on his crotch.

"I, I want to have your baby," she finally blurted out, with a stressed expression on her face.

"So, Hendrix wasn't able to restore Tom's fertility?" he inquired gently, holding her hand in his. "I did the follow-up exam on his testicles after the surgery. He did an amazing job, given how badly the mule's kick damaged them. I have no idea how he even survived it. The kick, I mean," he added with a smile, coaxing one from her in return. "He thought there was a chance that some sperm could get through, and maybe some are, but not enough."

"It's not from a want of trying, believe me," she responded, blushing slightly. "We have sex at practically every opportunity, and he pumps load after load into me, but every month like clockwork my period comes, and ... and ..." Harold could see the pain in her face from the year of disappointment and despair as she struggled to regain her composure. "I know you have done it before. Healer Leila's girl came from you, she told me," she added a bit defiantly, "and boy, is she a handful," she added wryly.

"I always make a point of checking in on them," he replied.

"You have to. She's the village Healer and it's part of your job." He smiled at her. "And you two are totally besotted with each other, so of course you do." His smile became an impish grin and she gave him a playful jab with her elbow that made him wheeze.

"But did Leila warn you about the potential problem?" Helen nodded sadly.

"The odds are good that Marcie will be a mage as well, and will have to go off to Magic School after her powers start to manifest themselves. I wouldn't be able to keep our child on the farm, just when he'd be really needed, for the same reason." Harold nodded.

"Leila and I can help with Marcie's basic training at first, and could with a child you and I made, but eventually we all have to go to the Capital to learn what we need to learn. You and Tom won't be able to go with yours, unless you want to give up the farm." Her expression left no doubt as to how popular that thought was. "You have talked to Tom about this?"

"Yes. We've talked about the idea of a surrogate father for a couple of months now. You were actually his idea. Don't look so surprised, Harold," Helen added with a slightly teary smile. "You are held in very high esteem in the whole area. You're the longest-serving Healer we've had in a long time."

"I've watched you, Tom, and the others grow up. Leila and I had the honour of marrying you, and that was one of the best weddings we've ever officiated," he replied. "Being a Healer is kind of like being a teacher. You have to be a people person, and if you're not, you'll hate it. The newbies all have to serve a two-year stint on the rural circuit, and we all learn much more on the job than we did in school. Only a very few stay on afterwards. I've found that this life suits me much more than city life."

"Plus, you get to have no-strings-attached sex with all sorts of women," she added with a slightly gentler dig in the ribs from her elbow. He tried to look innocent.

"Despite rumours to the contrary, I am not a randy old goat," he replied with a mock scowl. Her giggle made it clear that she wasn't buying it, as he had expected. "Seriously though, if both you and Tom really want me to be a surrogate father, I am honoured beyond measure." She looked nervous again. "But it may not be necessary. When I was in Havisham after the accident, I sent a request for anything on reconstructive surgery to the Mages Library in the Capital. It took them a while to track something down, but it turns out that someone named Gargery has been doing research and work in just that field. Apparently, he had suffered a similar injury to Tom's, and he was motivated. Last month, his paper was waiting for me when I got back. There are long, small tubes involved in the male reproductive system, but he outlined a way to rebuild them with a surprisingly simple procedure. It's in that heavy pack that you slung so casually into the wagon, and based on what I remember, Tom has an excellent chance of making a full recovery." Helen's expression had changed from apprehension to hope to joy as he talked, and when he finished, she burst into tears, grabbed him in a rib-creaking hug and cried on his shoulder for five minutes before letting him go and drying her face with her skirt. The horse knew the way home and carried on, despite the lack of guidance.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized, sniffing loudly. "I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders! Thank you!"

"I love giving people good news," he responded breathlessly. "Now we've got about an hour to catch up on the local gossip."

"An hour? Are you kidding me? There is no way I'm waiting that long! Gee up you horse! Time to see how fast you can actually move, you overfed lump!" She flicked the reins hard and the surprised beast took off like a shot. Harold fell over backwards into the wagon and held on for dear life to it, his staff, and to his pack as they tore down the laneway at full speed. It only took them half an hour to get into town, by which time they'd slowed down to a more respectable speed because the horse had gotten tired. He was a farm horse, born to pull stuff and not to race. "See you soon!" she shouted over her shoulder after he had hastily dismounted outside of Leila's house as they took off in a great rattling.

"Oh, there you are," said Leila after she'd come around from the right side of the house to see what the commotion was all about. "Dear Goddess, what happened to you?" she asked, hastening down the flagstone path and opening the gate in the attractive white picket fence around the front of the property. The house was one storey, with brown and red stone walls and slate shingles. A picture window to the left of the door had light-coloured gauzy curtains that obscured the view into the room where she saw patients. The smaller window on the right had blue curtains that were opened and looked into her living room. The corner lot had a large shady tree in front of the house and another between the left side and the town's Main Street.

Leila was in her late forties, a bit shorter than Harold, but big-boned with the typical farmer's large hands and feet. Her long copper-coloured hair was starting to fade to silver, but her carefully trimmed eyebrows were still that colour. Under said brows were a thin nose with flared nostrils, a small thin-lipped mouth, and strong chin that made her look somewhat unattractive, but it was her bright blue eyes that always got his attention. She'd clearly been working in the large garden behind her house, as she was wearing a straw hat with her hair tied back under it, a loose-fitting beige pull-over blouse and pants, work boots and well-used canvas gloves.

"Hi, Leila," he replied with a grin as he dusted some hay from his clothes and pack and checked to make sure he was still in one piece. "Let's just say that we should get ready for a visit from Helen and Tom in about half an hour." She perked up noticeably.

"You got something for Tom?" When he nodded, a huge smile lit up her face and he suddenly found himself in the grip of another powerful hug, quickly followed by a hot kiss that had their tongues playing tonsil hockey.