The Chronicles of Harold the Healer

Harold the Healer, Chapter 9

Late this past November, Harold Moser, Doctor of Magical Medicine and Doctor of Magical Veterinary Medicine, had walked from Provis, the town before Magwitch on his circuit, toward home as the first winter storm of the season had been getting underway. He'd stopped for rest and lunch in an abandoned barn and found a very pregnant dog, which he just couldn't leave behind. The only option for transporting her was a spell called Air Sled, which created a horizontal platform on which he could put her, as well as his pack and staff. The spell had a long-standing notoriety because it was unstable and could only be maintained for a certain length of time before it injured the caster.

During the second leg of the journey, he had fallen into a walking daydream in which he'd remembered an encounter with the local Goddess shortly after he'd started his job, during which he'd massaged all the knots and kinks out of her muscles, turned her pussy into a raging furnace of need, then put it out with several squirts of cum after she demanded that he do so. It was his favourite mode of seduction, and very effective. When he'd snapped back to the real world, he was practically at Leila's doorstep and the Air Sled had become stable, glowing gently in the Goddess' golden colour.

The storm had kept them in the house for two days, during which both he and Leila had worked on how to efficiently apply erotic thoughts and energy to the spell. This was much more easily said than done, since Marcie was there and needed to be amused because she couldn't go out to play with her friends due to the weather. They'd had to retreat to the basement where there was enough room to cast the spell and they could do what was necessary away from their daughter's prying eyes.

"We're working on a new spell downstairs, dear," Leila had explained as they were eating lunch on the first day while watching the snow fall and blow around outside the windows. "Remember when Papa brought Cleo home on the Air Sled?" She had nodded while taking another bite from her sandwich. "He accidentally did something entirely new to make the spell better, and now we are trying some experiments to figure out what he did so that we can tell our friends."

"Experimenting with Magic can be dangerous, so we don't want you down there in case something goes wrong," Harold had added seriously, while simultaneously rubbing a sock-clad foot up and down one of Leila's legs. She had given him a hot stare, to which he'd responded with a bland, innocent look. "We'll take turns working on the spell and keeping you occupied. Maybe you'll take a nap this afternoon?" he had asked hopefully. Marcie had shaken her head, far too gleefully.

"I'm too old for naps!" she had declared.

"Or too young for naps," Leila had added, rubbing a sock-clad foot up Harold's leg. "Us old folks can always do with an afternoon snooze. Maybe you can pretend to be a grown-up and take a nap?"

"Nope! I want to play cribbage with Papa!"

"I think I need to spend more time working on that spell! Mama doesn't want to be in that dark, chilly basement! I'll take her turn!" It wasn't all that chilly, since the contraption that heated the water that went through pipes to heat the floor also heated the basement, but it was beside the point.

"Nope!" mother and daughter had chorused, making him cringe and pout.

"But first, I must discuss with Papa what he was doing so that I don't waste time repeating it. That's what teamwork is all about." They had gotten up from the kitchen table, put their dishes in the sink, and Leila had hit them with the Clean spell, creating the usual loud clatter. Harold had put them away. "Go get your cards so you'll be ready when Papa comes back."

"I have to use the privy, first," Marcie had replied, looking glumly out the window.

"A good idea," Harold had agreed and they all got dressed. Harold then cast the Ward around them that deflected the cold wind and Leila cast Banish Water to clear the path to the tastefully painted privy with great whooshes of snow. After they had done what was necessary, they had stood in the yard as the storm as the snow swirled around them.

"The wind is strong enough to power my Ward," Harold had said. "We could walk around the town and enjoy the storm. Stretch our legs, get some exercise, fun for all!"

"It's cold out here and warm in the house where my cribbage board is," Marcie had declared.

"We can stretch our legs all the way to the kitchen door," Leila had added unsympathetically, giving him a guiding push.

"I'll take the long way! On the other hand, it is a bit chilly out here," he had continued, cowering in partly mock fear at Leila's and Marcie's basilisk stares. He had been herded to the door, which they went through and swiftly closed, returning them to the comfortable warmth of the kitchen. The Ward had shimmered away as Harold released it. They hung up their coats and put their boots on the tray.

"Go get the cribbage things. I'll talk to your Papa in the basement for a few minutes."

"OK, Mama," Marcie had shrieked gleefully as she dodged his grasping hands. Leila had cast a Mage Light and they went down the stairs. By the time they'd made it to the bottom, they had been eating each other up with long, passionate kisses.

"I could feel your arousal all morning while you were at work," Leila had whispered with her lips just brushing his. "What were you thinking about to get you going?"

"I was thinking about the last time I came home, when I'd managed to get a ride for a good part of the way and got in early, before Marcie had come back from school," he had said. "I remembered how you pulled me through the front door, slammed it shut, and how we left a trail of clothes to the bedroom. I remembered how you pushed me onto the bed and how hot you were when you got my cock all the way into your pussy." She had hiked up her heavy wool dress that went halfway down her shins and there was nothing underneath to obstruct his hand and probing middle finger that pushed its way into her needy depths with no resistance. "What will you be thinking of?"

"This!" she hissed as she had used both hands to quickly unbutton his seriously tented pants, revealing his hard cock, glowing in his colours of turquoise and forest green. "Get that into me, right now!" She had laid herself down on the floor, which someone had paved with flagstones long ago. "Gah, this is cold! I'm bringing down a blanket for the next time!" she had added as he shoved his cock into her in one thrust. Its thickness stretched her just enough, as it always did, to get a barely stifled moan. It only took a few frantic thrusts and bucks before she had clamped down on him and he'd hosed her cervix with high-pressure squirts of cum, leaving them breathing heavily and staring into each other's eyes.

"Having done that, let me show you what I was trying this morning," he had wheezed as he rolled off. Leila had had to hastily Clean the mess from both of them before they could stagger to their feet and rearrange their clothes. He had drawn upon his very recent experience for the erotic energy portion and showed her how he had been trying to weave it into the rest of the Air Sled spell to tame the functions that wanted to wander all over the place, with limited success so far.

"I have an idea on what to try," she had said loudly for the benefit of listening ears upstairs. "You go upstairs and play with your daughter." He had moaned theatrically as said daughter had giggled and he clumped up the stairs. He had paused at the door, which opened suddenly.

"The cribbage board is ready, Papa!" Marcie had said, grabbing his hand and pulling him through. He had closed the door with an only slightly ominous thud. "Please shuffle the cards. My hands aren't big enough to shuffle them the way you do." They had sat down on the long sides of the kitchen table and with a moan of complaint from him and an eye roll from her, he had shuffled the cards and dealt them.

By the time that the storm had let up, the two Healers had been exhausted, having needed to have sex four or five times a day, but they had a working spell. Marcie had exploded out of the house at the first moment that it had been safe to do so, as had all of the other kids in town. Harold had written the paper in the two remaining days before he'd had to leave for Havisham, between in-town visits of his own, giving Leila credit for her 'invaluable assistance with the perfection of the spell'. She'd rather forcefully insisted that she not get half-authorship, not wanting her name to be associated with anything erotic for the sake of her standing in the community. He, of course, was a Known Rascal and it would not tarnish his image in the least. He'd put it in the mail to the Journal of Applied Magical Sciences, known as JAMS, once he'd gotten there, and forgotten about it.

Havisham is a small city that is only about half a day's coach ride from Magwitch and serves as the unofficial capital of the Westlands. It is the headquarters of the local Order of St. Thrimble, among other things, and his duty upon arrival was to officially write up what he had done during his round. In late April, after arriving in Havisham after another one of his circuits, he made his way to the Order's building. It was a nondescript storefront in a less-than-fashionable part of the city whose unremarkable sign had a picture of a saintly-looking woman that somehow had never faded, despite having been there for longer than anyone could remember. To his great surprise, Harold had managed to get on the coach from Magwitch, and so had shown up earlier than usual.

"Harold, what a pleasant surprise to see you," said Jenn Binns, the secretary, as he walked in through the door. She was not a Mage, but since she essentially ran the place, he always greeted her with Respectful Bow #2. She was five-foot-seven, had the sturdy farmer's body build that was so prevalent in the Westlands, steely gray hair tied back in a bun today, and gray eyes with a no-nonsense stare that demanded and got good behaviour from anyone who walked in the door, even the tax collectors.

"I was able to catch the coach today, so I didn't have to hike up to the Highway and hitch a ride," he replied with his mellow baritone and a friendly smile. "I thought that I'd get an early start on my writeup so that I could enjoy what Havisham has to offer, such as it is."

"Hello, Harold," said Lakash Moto, poking his head out his office door, which was to the right of the entrance and nearly always open. He was a Healer in his mid-sixties, too old for the circuit as he liked to say, and was a small, swarthy, slightly built man with warm brown eyes and a shiny domed head surrounded by a long fringe of gray hair. "Welcome back. Another successful tour?"

"Yes, it was all nice and routine. I helped with some difficult deliveries of lambs and calves, which kept things interesting, but the rest was just the usual injuries and illnesses. I'll just grab the desk in the corner, write everything out, and get going." He eased his heavy pack off of his back to rest it gently on the floor, rather than letting it fall with the usual thump, because Jenn Did Not Approve of Thumps. "Oh, that feels better," he sighed, flexing his shoulders.

"You might want to have a look at this," Jenn replied, opening a drawer on the left side of the large wooden desk, extracting an envelope, and handing it to him.

"Oh, nice paper," he said. It was quality enough to have a bit of heft to it. "From the Awards and Bursaries Department of the Capital School of Magic," he read the return address. "What would they be sending me?" he wondered aloud. "Oh well, I'll look at it later." Two throats cleared loudly and two pairs of eyes pinned him to where he stood. "Uh, how long has this been here?"

"About two weeks," Jenn replied. "Inquiring minds want to know."

"Hmm, maybe I should open it now," he said nervously, laying his staff on the floor, carefully opening the envelope and unfolding the equally pricey paper within it. "Dear Healer Moser, your recent paper in the Journal of Applied Magical Sciences, 'On the Use of Erotic Energy to Stabilize the Air Sled Spell', has proven to contain the long sought-after solution to the Air Sled Problem. As such, this novel and unexpected approach wins the Grand Prize, which is the sum of forty (40) Sovereigns." The eyebrows on all three of their faces rose. "We invite you to come to the Magic School at your earliest convenience to collect your prize."

"That would take about a week," said Lakash. "Three days to get there, one day to collect the prize and for general mischief." Harold looked innocent, but would not meet either of their gazes. "And three days to get back. We can get you on the regular coach to Portnoy when you get back so you won't be too late getting on your usual rounds."

"There's nobody to substitute for you," Jenn added, forestalling Harold's question. "Which is unfortunate, but help is always hard to find." He nodded. Not many Healers, or anyone else for that matter, were keen on spending a lot of time traveling from one place to another in any and all kinds of weather. Portnoy was about fifty miles away and he always took a coach or mooched rides when he could. "So, either I go now or wait for after my next round in six weeks or so. And, since Leila had to have a leak in her roof fixed, then get the home heating contraption fixed after it had broken down, perhaps sooner would be better than later."

"You have a couple of hours before the next coach to the Capital," suggested Lakash helpfully. "And one advantage of being in this part of town is that we're only three blocks from the terminal. Would that be enough time to do your writeup before you leave?"

"If I get started now, probably," he replied. "Though I can't help the feeling that you're giving me the bum's rush." He grinned as they wouldn't meet his gaze. He moved over to the desk that was in the far corner on the right, found a stack of paper, a pen, and an inkpot already there, which earned them another stare, extracted his journal from his large and heavy pack, and began the transcription process. An hour and a half later, he was finished, which was only possible because it had been a routine trip with nothing unusual to report. People with appointments to see Lakash came and went as he worked and Jenn kept busy with a seemingly endless supply of paperwork.

"Now, shoo," said Jenn. "Go have fun in the big city."

"Thanks for holding the letter for me," Harold replied as Lakash stepped out of his office again, yawned and stretched. Jenn gathered his papers and pulled out some of her own, which were billing forms to be filled out and sent to the Health Department.

"It's a nice, quiet day, with only paperwork and appointments," he said cheerfully.

"Don't say that!" Harold said nervously. "That's just inviting the Gods to send us a stampede!" He rapidly repacked his pack, grabbed his staff and was out the door with a hasty bow to each of them.

"I like to discourage lingering," said Lakash with a wink and Jenn snickered. A hasty check over his shoulder revealed no stampede heading for the office, which may have resulted in his hasty recall to help deal with it, so he slowed his pace to the more reasonable one that he used when traveling. He walked past shops that sold cannabis, mirrors, and furniture of uncertain vintage, a pawn shop, a grocery store, a bar, and a seedy-looking hotel, among other things. It was an eclectic neighbourhood, and a lot of its citizens were out and about on the sidewalks and on the road. Harold nodded in recognition to several as he passed hastily through and he managed to make it to the terminal in less than ten minutes.

"I wish to book passage to the Capital," he told the ticket seller, a middle-aged man who was sitting behind the counter in the terminal building. Three coaches, each with a four-horse team to pull them, had assembled in the large yard. They were all the same classic design, perfected over the years, that minimized weight while allowing six people to sit on two padded bench seats. The door on each side had a window that could be slid up and down to allow for ventilation. They were up because although it was sunny and pleasant, it was still chilly. A collection of people with their traveling bags was waiting in the waiting room for permission to board.

"Three Sovereigns, please," the man replied. Harold's eyes widened, but he reached into his right pocket, extracted the coins, and handed them over in exchange for a nicely printed ticket. It was a hefty price, but it was also a long way to travel, and you couldn't feed coach horses on air, nor care for them by waving one's hands and hoping for the best, let alone pay their drivers and caretakers with smiles.

"Just for the record, I am a Healer and also a veterinarian," he said. "Not that I expect a discount," he added hastily, cutting off the ticket seller's retort, "Please inform your drivers that I'm here in case of any problems on the way."

"Thanks for letting me know," Tony, as his name tag read, replied. "The Highway is paved and in good shape, but you never know what will happen on a run. Boarding is in ten minutes or so." Harold offered Polite Bow #3 and moved off to join the thirteen others who were waiting to board. They were a mixed lot, about half women and half men, dressed in traveling clothes and looking forward with varying degrees of unenthusiasm to the trip. They were watching out the large picture window as the station's crew were finalizing hooking up the horses to the coaches. A large canvas bag of what was probably mail was tossed on the top of each, where the drivers lifted the seats of the benches on which they sat and put them inside. A cargo net was flipped from the top to the back of the coach to ready the top for the storage of people's luggage.

"That's my cue to tell you that the coaches are ready for boarding," said Tony from behind them. "On behalf of Royal Coach Lines, I wish you a safe and uneventful trip." He offered Polite Bow #3, which they returned, then gathered their bags and trooped out the door toward the coaches.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Marvin Lachance, and I will be the lead driver for the first leg of the trip. As there are fourteen of you, we will put five in two coaches and four in the other." Marvin was only five-foot-seven, but seemed to be just about as wide, and not much of it appeared to be fat. His shoulder-length brown hair was liberally streaked with gray and was largely covered by a shapeless, broad-brimmed hat that looked like it had been there for a long time. Sharp brown eyes perched over a beaky nose and a wide, thin-lipped mouth that was surrounded by a closely-trimmed goatee. "I've also been informed that we will be accompanied by a Healer." Harold raised his left hand and smiled. "It is always our hope that your services will not be required." His voice was deep and confident.

"Three days of boredom is all that I can ask for," he replied with his mellow baritone, looking around at the other passengers. One of the horses hitched to the middle coach farted loudly, making the others shift around and causing the coach's driver to call out gently to soothe them while the passengers chuckled. "That is a common reaction to my speeches," he added dryly, getting snickers from everyone, including Marvin.

"Those of you who are familiar with long-distance travel, please forgive me," Marvin continued, "but I'm required to give this spiel at the start of each trip. Stages on the road to the Capital are between ten and twelve miles apart, and take about an hour and a quarter to an hour and a half to get to. Layovers are about fifteen minutes, where you can get out, stretch your legs, visit a privy, and get something to eat and drink if you need to. You'll also get mixed up into different coaches so that it will take longer to get sick of each other." They all nodded in understanding and acceptance. Loading the luggage took ten minutes, with Harold keeping his staff in hand until the last, when he put it next to the side rail on the right side of the roof of the middle coach, to which he'd been assigned, and cast Mage Glue to keep it in place. He had tried in the past to Glue it to the ceiling inside the coach, but it had made the others inside nervous, so he'd reluctantly been putting it up top with the rest of the cargo.