Rise of the Blade - Charles Moffat [36]
Thus when Pierce stepped forward and gave the first thug a few practice kicks, trying to recall his knowledge of kickboxing, he really had nothing stopping him from continuing to kick the boy, and he was scarcely more than a boy, to death. After the kid was down, he was tempted to continue and vent his rage on the kid everytime he moved. Thankfully his conscience stepped in, and Pierce backed away from the boy.
The other two thugs had disappeared but that wasn't what concerned the man that fell to the cobbles now, a sob racking his lungs. "I could have killed him," he whispered aloud, and he knew this to be the truth, for his farsight indeed said it had been a huge possibility.
Pushing the tears away from his eyes with the back of his hand, Pierce knelt over the injured boy who shied away in fear. "I'm not going to hurt you," the Doctor said slowly. He ripped the arm off his sleeve and inspected the boy's wounds.
They totalled, as the price for Pierce's anger, four broken ribs, one broken leg, a twisted wrist and a bloody lump for a shoulder. It was that shoulder most of all that concerned the Doctor as he bound it tightly to stop the bleeding. If he had any of his healing poultices, he would have used those to clean the wound but one couldn't foresee everything.
At his side, he knew there was Martinez and Nicole, both of which were unsure of what to do but both wanting to do something. It was amazing that the bald Harper was sober enough to have heard the fight at this time of night. Lifting the boy slightly, they lay him down on Pierce's cloak and used it as a makeshift stretcher as they carried him inside of Martinez's townhouse.
Nicole blanched when she saw the interior of the Harper's house, covered with scrolls, old liquor bottles and a basic array of junk. Where there should have been walls, there was only space as the walls had either rotted down years ago or Martinez had simply removed them. Only the staircase, a few supports and a large iron pole coming through the ceiling showed any sign that the place wouldn't collapse any second.
The fat rats scurried into the darkness as they entered, retreating into a corner that appeared to be a kitchen turned carpentry shop judging from all the wood shavings and carvings. No doubt, Nicole thought with an inner laugh, that Martinez had to be at least somewhat good at carpentry to keep this place from becoming condemned.
Up the stairs they went, past a shelf stacked with rows upon rows of Martinez's bottle collection, all empty of course. They foraged through the filth, trying to reach a hammock in the corner. They paused by the iron pole, making sure to keep their footing so near to such a drop. Finally, the trio lay the boy down in a hammock.
Looking over the boy carefully, Pierce noted that he had long ago fallen unconscious but would soon awake in a lot of pain. "What do you have for healing potions?"
"Just my own special brew," Martinez replied and handed Pierce a bottle filled with a yellow liquid. "And if that doesn't ease the pain, there's a bottle of drow vodka at your feet that should go down well." The bald Harper smiled and winked at Nicole. "I'll be back with a cleric of healing!" he said as he wrapped his legs around the iron pole and slipped through the hole in the floor to the filth below.
Pierce forced the boy to drink as much of the potion he could get down and ignored Martinez's offer of vodka. He was almost tempted to lift the bottle to his own lips, but the gods knew he felt awful enough already. Instead he slumped down beside Nicole on a clean patch of floor.
"How you feeling?" he asked, sensing her thoughts to be in a similar state of haze.
"Awful yet kinda giddy," Nicole replied and leaned on him gently. "I'm going to have the biggest hangover in the morning," she mumbled as she fell asleep.
Pierce sat alone with his thoughts as he waited for the return of Martinez. There were times he envied the rarely sober fighter. He was a good man, who led