The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 08

The Chronicles of Harold the Healer, Chapter 8

The Northlands Traveling Fair was making its summertime visit to Svend which, having the best harbour in the Northlands, was a medium-sized city and the economic and transportation hub of the entire region. This made it their favourite stop because there was money to be made from not just the locals, but the occasional Kingdom transport ship here to collect another load of wool, timber, or especially stone for the incessant road-building projects. If they were really lucky, like they were today, a trader ship from the Argosy Federation would be in port with a load of exotic spices, cloth, and timber to trade for the highly-prized white marble shot through with green veins, and sometimes they ventured out this far from the harbour and brought their money with them.

Lydia Caron was manning one of the ten-by-ten-foot tents that lined both sides of a wide "street" of crushed stone, some of whose operators were locals, and the rest run by fair employees. The tents had shallow pyramidal tops that were supported by a six-foot wooden pole at each corner, all connected by stainless steel joints and designed to be quickly assembled and broken down. Since it was a warm day in the middle of the summer, only the rear panels were rolled down, allowing the salt-tinged breeze off the nearby ocean to keep everyone cool. Today, she'd wound up at one of the concession stands, selling paper bags of roasted nuts and individual candy sticks and pieces of toffee that they'd bought wholesale in the previous town, with a profitable markup. Every so often, someone would show up with another tray of bags of nuts from the kitchen to keep her supplies up, as they sold well.

The job was pleasant enough. There was a good crowd on this, the first day of operation, and the people were pleasant and enjoying themselves. The problem was that Lydia had an itch that only a hot, hard cock could scratch. There was no shortage of male coworkers who were happy to lend their cocks to this service, and had in the past, but this time she wanted someone new, with whom she would not have to work later. She knew from experience that patience was the key. Single men don't usually come to fairs, and many of those who do are perverts or pickpockets. She and her colleagues had helped the local cops nab many of the latter in the act, most of whom had had to be taken for medical care after being very roughly handled after being exposed.

Those whom she decided were worthy of a try were usually pretty easy to reel in. Like maybe this fellow, she mused as she spotted a man, just over six feet tall she judged, wearing a large, heavy-looking backpack festooned with four water canteens, a wide-brimmed, dust-coloured hat and a flap of similarly coloured cloth to cover the back of his neck. Despite the warmth of the day, he was wearing a light-coloured, long-sleeved pullover shirt and beige denim pants, both of which were loose-fitting and clearly made for outdoor use. The pants were tucked into the tops of boots that looked like they were military issue. Most unusual was the staff he was holding in his right hand, as walking staffs had gone out of fashion a long time ago. He was walking slowly, looking around to see the sights, and must have come in off the road that led to town. When he turned to look in her direction, she smiled invitingly and waved at him.

"You look like a man who needs some nourishment," she said as he approached and then stopped. His face was oval in shape, but otherwise would have fit in anywhere. Only his eyes, which were an unusual shade of blue with hints of green, just like the ocean on a sunny day, stood out. Despite his unremarkable appearance, she noted that he had an undefinable presence that made her feel warm and safe. Yes, this is the man who I will be taking to my bed tonight.

"Indeed, I do," he replied in a mellow baritone voice, his smile revealing clean, even teeth. His eyes took her in at a glance, showing him a five-foot-ten woman with the sturdy body build of a farmer. Unlike the majority of the people in the Northlands, her past shoulder-length hair was brown, with many streaks of gray, and her eyes were brown as well. Despite being in her early forties and having had two kids, she still had curves in all the right places that attracted attention. He dug out three pennies from a pocket and said, "I'd like a bag of nuts, please." She stood behind a six-foot folding table with a two-foot gap on either side, and a recently-replenished tray with bags of nuts was on a table to her right, and when she turned to get one, she made sure to give her ass a little shake. When she looked over her shoulder to see his reaction, he had a bemused expression.

"I'm Harold Moser, Healer at Large," he introduced himself with a polite bow, accepting the bag. "I came to the fair to see the sights, and in my sights is the fair."

"Well, that was a little awkward, but appreciated."

"Well, it's hard to think when my brain has been dazzled by the sun for a few hours, then gets even more so when I see you," he countered, crunching a few nuts. "Hmm, these are good!"

"Now that's more like it," she grinned back. "I'm Lydia Caron, originally from a small town in the Westlands that you've never heard of."

"I'm originally from a small town in the northern Eastlands that you've never heard of," he responded around another handful of nuts. "Its main export is an inexhaustible resource, rocks of various sizes, mostly for construction projects. Some of them may have found their way into my cranium." He gave his head a shake while rattling the nuts in the bag and made a silly face, getting a laugh from her. "Is there anything else worth checking out, aside from you?"

"Well, Mara will be taking on anyone who wants to wrestle with her on the stage just down there," she replied, leaning over the table and pointing to her right down the street, which ended three tents down at a large open area. On the left side of the open area was the base of a lighthouse that stood sentinel to warn the boat traffic of the rocky shallows that extended out from the shore. A number of horse hitching posts and troughs nearby seemed to serve the users of the stage, which was beyond them and partly decked out as a wrestling ring. A small crowd was beginning to gather in front of it. "Keep me company tonight?" she murmured into his ear as people continued to drift past them.

"Is there anyone who might need some Healing, massages, or other things to keep me busy?" he murmured back.

"I definitely need a massage," she replied, pulling back and giving him a hot stare, which he seemed to interpret correctly, judging from his smirk. "One of our draft horses went lame as we were coming in to the fairgrounds last night," she added, suddenly remembering. "Can you Heal horses? Carfax and I have had a special bond since he was a colt."

"As it happens, I am a fully-qualified Doctor of Magical Veterinary Medicine, as well as a Doctor of Magical Medicine for people, with many years of dealing with horses in all kinds of conditions. I'd love to be able to help Carfax." There was no doubting the sincerity in his voice, and Lydia's eyes shone.

"I don't get relieved for another hour. If you can hang around somewhere until then, I'll take you to him. The poor guy is really sore."

"I'll go down there to watch the wrestling show. It looks like it's getting started," he said, looking down towards the stage area, from which cheers, applause, and laughter could be heard. "It looks like Mara isn't having much trouble with her competitors, so far."

"She's really good. Ex-Army. She's really helped get the fair organized and more efficient." She gave him a hard look. "You aren't thinking of having a go, are you?"

"Hmm, maybe, maybe not." His look of innocence was so good that it was almost believable, and she snorted. "See you later. Damn, where did all the nuts go?" he complained cheerfully, moving away as more customers showed up. The last tent on the other side of the street was selling popcorn, of which Harold bought a bag from a significantly less friendly seller, then went to see what was going on.

Mara Kesh surveyed the somewhat subdued crowd of locals from her vantage point four feet above the ground in the wrestling ring that had been made from the stage. She wondered, not for the first time, why she had left a twenty-year career in the Army and how she had come to be one of the attractions at a traveling fair where patrons would pay six doubloons for a chance to wrestle with her for a prize of three Sovereigns. She always went topless to use her D-sized breasts as a distraction, and it seemed that most of the mainly male participants were more interested in groping them than in the actual wrestling. She had gained years of experience in hand-to-hand combat in her time in the Army, in which she'd risen to the rank of Staff Sergeant and Drill Instructor, and rarely lost.

People tended to be on the large side in the Northlands, as she knew since she was one of them, standing six feet tall and close to 200 pounds of mostly muscle. Her once blonde hair had now faded to mostly gray and was cut short in the Army way, since long hair provided an extra handle for an attacker to grab, and she had never felt the need to let it grow out. Her ice-blue eyes still had the power to intimidate, if not outright terrorize, anyone who tried to get too casual. This, and her ability to command, coordinate, and use her strength to help with the seemingly unending amount of heavy work that a traveling fair required, gained her the respect of everyone and had caused her to quickly rise to second-in-command of the organization.

The fair's owner and operator, Kelsey Ostend, served as the referee and occasionally as bouncer in rare cases when one of the patrons got a little too rambunctious after losing. She was also a similar size and disposition to Mara, but had grown up in the traveling fair business, and unlike Mara had resisted the Army recruiters' sweet talk, rising through the years to become the owner and operator. She had encountered Mara three years ago when the fair had stopped here in what turned out to be their hometown of Svend, dispirited and somewhat traumatized by what she had experienced in Carcosa. She hadn't regretted offering her a job in maintenance, and her skills had proven valuable on any number of occasions.

"So, are there any other challengers out there willing to test their skills against the Mighty Mara?" Kelsey's rich contralto voice boomed out over the crowd, some of whom were watching the previous contestant, a large farmer who'd used his skills at wrangling uncooperative livestock to give Mara a scare before she'd managed to throw him to a hard landing and knocked him out, get removed from the ring and carted over to the recuperation area under a shady tree. "You, sir, the gentleman under the tree. Yes, you, you look like a capable guy. Come on up and give it a try. Last dance of the day is half price," she offered invitingly. The tree shaded the ring's part of the stage from the hot summer afternoon sun, and the man, who had been leaning casually against it for the entire set of bouts, looked around. He wasn't from the area, as his body build and face were different from those of the locals, and the audience of both men and women made loud encouraging noises, hoping to see someone from the outside get thumped.

"OK, sure, why not," he responded, his voice carrying over the twenty feet to the ring. He removed nearly knee-high leather boots and socks from his feet, since the ring activity was all barefoot to reduce the chance of injury, and Mara noted that they were classic Army issue. He removed his dust-coloured, broad-brimmed hat and the headband underneath it that held a piece of cloth that covered the back of his neck, propped his walking staff against the tree next to the large dusty backpack, and approached the ring, looking nervous and uncertain.

"I don't know why, but he looks familiar for some reason," Mara murmured to Kelsey as the man offered three doubloons from his pants pocket to Arthur at the foot of the steps, went up them and got himself clumsily through the ropes, somehow almost getting tangled up in them, much to the enjoyment of the crowd, who were offering rude suggestions on what to do with Mara. He was a bit taller than her, with thinning brown hair that was going gray. His clothes were dusty and loose-fitting, meant for long walking trips, one of which he'd clearly finished here, and revealed little of his physique. His face, with about two days of mostly gray beard stubble, would not have stood out in any crowd, even here, but his eyes were its focus, being an odd shade of blue with hints of green. To their surprise, he offered Respectful Bow #2 to both Mara and Kelsey, followed by the filthiest leer they had ever seen, directed at Mara's breasts, as he positioned himself four feet from the stair corner of the twenty-foot-square ring and stood there awkwardly.

"I'll body-slam this asshole into the next county and we'll call it a day," Mara added, glaring back in her most ferocious Drill Instructor expression, which, surprisingly, had no effect on him at all. She felt surprised and somewhat ashamed that her body had actually responded to his leer, seeing for just a few moments the promise that he would leave her in her bed, breasts and nipples licked just the way she liked them to be, and her pussy eaten and fucked to utter ruin, and that she'd enjoy every minute of it.

"Let the match begin!" bellowed Kelsey over the hoots and yells of the rejuvenated crowd. Mara immediately crouched and charged, intending to throw the full force of her momentum against his wide-open chest, but he swiftly shifted his awkward-looking stance and performed the same grapple, pivot, and throw that she had on the farmer, but instead bouncing her off the ropes upside-down, catching her and tossing her over his head in a fall-away suplex that had her land hard on her back next to Kelsey, who had to quickly dodge to avoid being clobbered. He quickly scooted over and held her shoulders down and Kelsey was forced to count "One, two, three," rather more slowly than usual.

"It's going to take you a bit more work to body-slam me into the next county." Mara's glazed eyes saw him make an exaggerated wink to accompany a self-satisfied smirk. He stood up and waved at the crowd, whose expressions were the dictionary definition of gobsmacked. The silence was broken only by the salt-tinged breeze blowing off the nearby ocean that rustled the leaves in the trees. "That was easy," he gloated, showboating and strutting around, making sure that he was just within reach of the prone Mara. "Good sir," he addressed the mortified Arthur below him, "I believe that there is a prize waiting for me?" As he was expecting, a hand clamped a vise-like grip on his left ankle.

"Not so fast, bub," she growled, loud enough to be heard. "Best two out of three!" She yanked hard, sending him crashing to the mat, but not hurting him much because he blocked the fall and rolled with it. The audience roared its approval and the fight was on. Many of the other members of the fair's crew heard the ruckus coming from the ring area and reached for various blunt instruments they kept close at hand, as that level of noise was usually associated with Big Trouble. They and the other visitors to the fair quickly hustled over to see what was going on, only to see Mighty Mara in the ring, duking it out with some guy they'd never seen before, and for once it was an even fight.

"Come on, Mara," said the man after he'd broken free and they'd gotten on their feet. "Don't pull your punches. Give me all you've got!" She was more than happy to oblige, and it was apparent right from the start that whoever this asshole was, he was at least at her skill level, if not a bit better, and the toughest challenge she'd faced since her Army days. Fun at last, she thought, launching a punch that should have smashed his right shoulder, but which he somehow managed to deflect while launching a kick that would have taken out her left knee if she hadn't pivoted faster than she thought she could do to swat his foot aside. The audience of locals and fair staff yelled and cheered themselves hoarse as they watched a very rarely-seen show of two A-Class martial artists striking, dodging, blocking, and flying all over the ring. Kelsey quickly figured out that she was safer outside of the ring and rolled out under the bottom rope, and while the other staff of the fair cheered and yelled as loudly as the locals, they exchanged wondering glances with each other as they finally realized just how good Mara actually was.

About ten minutes into the bout, they were getting noticeably tired, but no less dangerous. Mara almost successfully deflected a blow that should have knocked her head off, but instead stunned her and she fell to the canvas. Instead of going in for the kill, he quickly checked to see if she was OK, then did a little showboating around the ring, blowing kisses to the crowd and getting them really riled up until she jumped to her feet and went after him again. She returned the favour a few minutes later when a crippling blow to his solar plexus got only mostly deflected, leaving him wheezing on the mat. She took the time to do a little showboating of her own, bending over and bopping his face with her breasts, then dancing just out of reach as he tried to grab them, getting wild cheers, until he finally leaped to his feet and nearly took her out with a chop block aimed at the back of her right knee, which she narrowly avoided. Twenty minutes after it started, they were both completely spent, battered, bruised, and bloody, holding on to the top ropes to keep themselves up.

"I propose a draw," the man wheezed, puffing and blowing like a racehorse after a long race. "On my honour, no tricks." Kelsey saw this as her cue to re-enter the ring.

"I accept your offer," Mara gasped in reply. "On my honour, no tricks." They made it to the centre of the ring and exchanged a fist bump that, even now, could have cracked a walnut, and they both winced.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Kelsey boomed, standing between them and raising an arm from each, "the contestants have agreed to a draw. The match is now over. Thank you very much for watching!" The contestants accepted two minutes of cheers and applause from the audience, which quickly broke up to resume their various activities in the fair.

"I am sure that I know you from somewhere," Mara croaked between swigs of much-needed water from a canteen supplied by Arthur, who was a tall, burly fellow with the darker complexion of a Southlander and graying black hair down to his shoulders. The man, who had drained his in one long draft, smiled crookedly. They were standing next to the ring in the shade, in full view of the man's things that he'd left under the tree. "That staff, those eyes..." Suddenly, she remembered and snapped her fingers. "You're one of the Healers from Carcosa, aren't you?" He nodded.

"Harold Moser, Healer at Large, at your service," he replied in a mellow baritone, rather stiffly offering Polite Bow #3 to each of them. Kelsey introduced herself, and Arthur himself as Arthur Sokoss, and he shook their hands rather gingerly. "Thank you for the fight, Mara. It's been a long time since I've had a real challenge."

"You are most welcome. But you suckered me in with that leer, you rotter," Mara replied with a scowl, then a wince as one of her scowling muscles complained. "I saw you at work with your staff in Carcosa during the fight outside the gates, but I had no idea that you were also a hand-to-hand fighter. And do not, under any circumstances, allow him to sucker you into a fight when he has his staff," she advised Kelsey and Arthur, who stared at the unremarkable-looking man with new respect.