To Race the Wild Wind Chapter 2

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To Race the Wild Wind Ch. 2

Templer floated in pain laced darkness. Occasionally he would rise towards the surface and awareness would try to worm its way through his brain. One time the sound of a soft curse and strong hands rolling him over brought him up to the brink. The agony of broken bones grinding together dropped him back into the abyss. In another instance he awoke to a warm, spicy smelling hide against his cheek along with hoof beats drumming in rhythm with the pain pulsing through his body. The priest tried to straighten up. This made his outrider sit on him... hard. A rather nasty curse rumbled through his aching head.

** “Be still Host! I am having a hard enough time keeping your foolish brains where they belong as it is!”**

Heh... that just didn't sound good. The gunman decided it would be much easier to let himself slip back into the comfortable darkness.

“How's he doing?” Grant's rough voice penetrated the darkness, sending a wave of nausea through the priest's aching body. Still, the need to know where he was and who was with him drove Templer towards awareness.

“He is a lot better than I expected.”

This voice sounded vaguely familiar. His muddled brain struggled to put a name or face with it. The words accompanied a pair of cool, calloused hands carefully probing over his sore ribcage and abdomen.

“I have seen self-healing like this once...” The woman's soft voice hesitated, not finishing this interesting statement. A gentle finger gave a light tap on a spot just under his heart.

“All that is left is bruising where there were broken bones. I can only assume that whatever internal injuries he might have had healed just as fast. The head injuries are all I am concerned about now.”

Cool fingers traced a very tender spot just over his right eye. Templer could not control the twitch of his eyebrow in nervous reaction to the gentle touch.

The priest lay quiet, keeping his eyes closed. He stretched out his other enhanced senses to take stock of his surroundings. He was laying on a comfortable bed, covered with a soft quilt. Another quick check confirmed that ALL that covered his body was that nice... thick... quilt. The room held a confusing scent of flowers mixed with medical supplies. It was all underlain by the odd spicy smell he had noticed earlier.

The soft touch on his head withdrew. Templer opened his eyes to find himself staring into the concerned gaze of the woman who had been in the bar earlier that day. She sat in a high backed chair placed close to the bed in which he rested. Her eyes, he noticed, were a deep green rimmed in golden brown. Tiny laugh lines radiated out from their corners. These disappeared as her chestnut eyebrows arched in surprise.

“I hope that is your natural eye color. If not... we may have a problem.”

The husky voice held a note of concern. Grant leaned forward into the priest's limited field of vision. Templer again wanted to squirm under the other's intent scrutiny. The big man's face relaxed in a slight smile.

“It's okay Chrysta. The glow means his outrider is doing its job.”

For a moment, Templer did not know what was more interesting, the thoughtful but unsurprised expression on his caregiver's face... or Azra's (not to mention, HIS) unadulterated astonishment. The Order held its secrets tight. The Talons even more so. Few outsiders ever got close enough to learn the intimate details of the Priest/Elemental relationship that gave the rank its unearthly abilities. For good reason. It was the official position that the ability to call and control a demon was a gift or a curse. Any soul not Sanctified by the Order, who was Tainted enough to SUMMON an Elemental was an abomination. The Inquisition burnt these poor souls as witches. If the public ever found out that the Talons did not SUMMON their demonic counterparts but instead carried them around in a form of controlled possession... the backlash would be extreme. How the HELL did a small town bartender have that kind of intimate knowledge about Outriders?

Feeling very vulnerable, the gunman tried to push himself up. A pair of strong hands pressed into his sore chest, pushing him back down into the pillows.

“WHOA there... let’s not be too hasty. How you did not leave half of your brains splattered all over that ridge, young man, is beyond me.”

Those capable hands slid up through his blood matted hair as gentle fingers mapped out his skull. Templer could not help but wince when they lightly pressed on one particularly painful spot.

“I'll bet that is uncomfortable.” Chrysta's soft voice was thoughtful. “You had an open depressed skull fracture there when I first got down to you... I swear there were brains and blood everywhere with that and all of your other injuries. All I feel now is a slight ridge where the edges have not finished healing. Do you have a head ache?”

Templer gave a slight nod. Head ache was an understatement. He was certain he could hear his brain swooshing around in his skull with every little movement! The woman's sympathetic smile made him feel a little better. It should have worried him instead.

“Grant, put that tray over there and give him a hand sitting up.”

Before the Templer could object the barkeep set his tray on the nightstand. His strong but gentle blunt fingered hands, eased the priest up while Chrysta positioned some pillows to support his back. Constantine, was too busy checking his skull for leaks to be of much help. The priest did not want to spill any brains out onto the pretty flowered quilt. The woman took one look at his pale face and her deft hands plucked a basin off the night stand to set in his lap.

“Are you experiencing any dizziness or nausea?”

Templer swallowed and relaxed a little when it seemed like his stomach was going to stay where it belonged. He gave a slight shake of his head in answer to her question and lifted a shaky hand, trying to ease her concern

“I am fine...” He had to stop to clear his throat as his mouth felt as dry as the Western Waste.
Chrysta handed him the glass of water that sat on the tray the barkeep had put down.

“Why....yes... That you are.”

These words were so quiet that it took the Talon's enhanced ears to hear them. His caregiver would not look him in the face as she tucked the quilt tighter about his hips. The man had a sudden, awful suspicion it had not been Grant who had undressed him. Glad he rarely blushed the priest sipped his water, then asked.

“Are you the town healer?”

Those odd eyes flashed up to meet his and Chrysta's tanned face creased in a wicked smile.

“Nooo... although I do fill in for him occasionally. I am more along the lines of the town... vet.”

Templer choked on the mouthful of water he had been in the process of swallowing. The woman's eyes were laughing as she gently thumped him on the back to help clear his airway.

“Really, I fill in for the Doc when he needs some extra hands. I HAVE had some medical training so I had no problem assessing your physical condition. Once I got down to you, it did not take long to figure out that the general medical rules just did not apply. With some of the injuries you had, you should have been quite... dead! By the time I wrestled you out of the ravine it was obvious that a lot of the damage was disappearing. I was planning on taking you straight to the Doc's office but by the time we hit town the worst of the damage seemed to have healed up. Grant and I figured that the fewer people in town who know of your ...modifications... the better.” The woman patted the back of his blade-hand drawing his attention to the cybernetic limb.

“I hope it was the right decision. Flesh I can deal with. This is a little beyond my abilities.”

Damn, whether sharp metal or punishing rock, something had done a good job of chewing through the tough armor like nano-skin that protected his bio-engineered limb. The woman had wrapped it but the blue and black staining the bandage did not bode well. The Talon hoped the damage was something that his limited skills in field repair and the constructs auto-heal mode could handle.

The woman paused and looked to Grant as if for confirmation. The big man just nodded. She slanted an odd look back at the man on the bed.

“Let's face it, your particular rank is one that does not inspire love and devotion amongst the masses. This town has factions that would have good reason to make sure you did not take another breath. Leaving you where you might be helpless to defend yourself just did not sit well with either of us. We decided to keep you here.”

The trained assassin in him noted that Grant had moved a little closer to Chrysta. He held himself with that peculiar stillness that Templer knew would explode into violence if the big man felt the woman needed protecting. The Innkeeper need not have worried. Kindness in this hard and violent world was rare. The priest was not one to repay it with death. One side of his mouth lifted in a slight smile as he nodded at them.

“You were wise in this and I thank you for your care.”

He did NOT tell them that if he had been placed in the situation they feared and he had not been well enough to control his outrider, things in this little town would have gotten very ugly... very fast!
Chrysta gave his damaged hand a final little pat as she looked toward the window. Templer realized that it was dark outside. He had been out of it almost an entire day.

“Well it looks as though you are well on your way to recovery, I had better be getting my butt back to the ranch.” She levered herself out of the chair and walked to the door. Templer noted that the mild limp she had that morning was more pronounced. The woman stopped in the doorway, balancing herself against its frame.

“Grant and I are very aware of some of the "situations" out in the Borderlands that the Talons and those who serve in the Fist are called in to deal with. Most do not realize that along with some of your more unsavory duties there are a few of you out there who put your bodies and your souls on the line to keep the realm safe. That cloak and your weapon...”

She nodded toward where the Trinity hung in its holster from the bedpost, “...are a dead giveaway to who and what you are. Grant told me you were here looking for a room this morning. You could have taken what you wanted, and you did not. That tells us more about who and what you are.” The woman shifted, wincing a little as she rubbed her thigh. “You are welcome to your share of my room as long as you need it. Be aware that I come and go at some very odd hours. I usually sleep on the duvet.” That rubbing hand stopped to pat her bad leg. “It's easier for me to get in and out of then the bed.”

Her eyes took on a sudden wicked gleam... “Standing rule is that if YOU can run around nude... then so can I! Grant will run a tab for your meals or anything else you might need. Don Ricardo has agreed to cover it.”

Chrysta pushed herself away from the frame, not giving him the option to protest. “Grant, I will be here in the morning with the team and the week's supplies. Talon Constantine, if you are up to it. I can take you out to the accident site as soon as we have the wagon unloaded. I am sure there are things there that you will want to retrieve.”
Not waiting for either man to answer, the woman slipped out and shut the door behind her. Templer glanced over at the silent innkeeper.

“Is she always that bossy?”

The gunman's voice was dryly amused. For longer than he cared to remember HE gave the orders. It was odd to have the tables turned. Grant's bushy eyebrows shot up.

“Well no...” The man's voice was deadly serious..."For Chrysta that was pretty tame. You might as well resign yourself to being our guest while you are in Edgewater. It seems that she has adopted you. As you witnessed this morning it does not do you a bit of good to get into a pissing contest with her. That woman inevitably wins!"

Grant ambled over to the door.

“I'll be downstairs closing up. If you need anything, just holler.” With that, the bartender opened the door and stepped out.

Templer listened until the man's heavy tread on the stairs signaled he was heading down to the common room. Then the Talon took stock of the room. It, like the bar earlier, was very clean. There was the bed he currently occupied, plus the duvet Chrysta had mentioned. It was pushed over by a large window that was cracked open to let in the night air. A soft breeze made the curtains rustle as it entered the room. Large glass fronted cases lined the far wall, all of which were filled with what looked like medical supplies. Two high backed chairs and a small table occupied the center of the space. These finished out the rest of the room's furnishings. He noticed another door and wondered where it led.

The priest slid his legs over the edge of the bed. In doing so he noticed the impressive bruising patterned over his chest and stomach. It was slowly fading. Just the fact it had taken so long for the injuries to heal even this much told him that his outrider had earned its keep that day. His clothing he found folded on one of the chairs. It was clean, and small stitches marked where several tears had been neatly mended. Getting dressed, the gunman went over to the other door and turned the knob. To his considerable surprise (and Azra's utter delight) this opened up into a tidy little bathroom. Most of the tastefully decorated space was occupied by a huge claw foot tub complete with hot and cold water tabs. Templer lightly tapped the containment sphere encircling the hot water pipe. The small fire salamander held captive within swirled around and eyed him expectantly. The Priest withdrew his fingers and the elemental settled back down to a spelled sleep. Well, well, well... this was an unlooked for extravagance in a small town inn!

Strolling back over to the window, Templer picked up the Trinity as he passed the bed. It seemed to have survived the fall without a terrible amount of damage. The view from the window opened into a good sized courtyard surrounded by several large holding pens and a stables.

The priest stood at the window, fingers lightly tapping on the high barrel of his gun as he tried to find a reason that these strangers were being so kind. He was uncomfortable with taking advantage of their charity. Because of this, the paranoid assassin that resided within could not help but look for some nefarious purpose behind the generous offer. His tapping fingers froze. This was ridiculous. If the pair had wanted to harm him, they had passed up the perfect opportunity to do so. Besides, Azra notwithstanding, he did not relish the thought of roughing it for the next week. His outrider stayed silent as its host slowly came to a decision. Templer nodded to himself. He rather liked Grant and maybe it would not be half bad sharing a room with Chrysta. He would give it a couple of days. After all, they were on vacation. Still... and this was directed internally.

“One bit of trouble Azra, and I promise by all that is Holy. I will yank our asses out of here and we will spend the next week sand surfing out in the Waste!”

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I apologize for any editing errors in advance. As a self published author I cannot afford a professional editor. I am also having problems with my writing system and Steemits system being compatible.
I had truly hoped to get more of a response from this than what chapter one has shown. Please leave feedback and up-vote if you enjoy what you have read so far. It makes my feel goods all warm and fuzzy!