Too late

It had been a quite a while since Brenan had been in this particular establishment, but he had been in a hundred other bars just like it over the past few years. As he walked into the inn he sensed something was wrong imediately. A broken chair lay near the door and a sword was lying discarded on the floor near the bar.

Three sailors (drunk already) were whispering excitedly in barely coherent words; but most of the activity came from the second floor. Three or four women in various stages of undress were visible through the railing crying and angry voices could be heard coming from one of the rooms through an open door.

Standing at the head of the stairs was an armored man with a drawn sword bleeding from a cut across his brow, the wound did not appear to be life threatening, but like all head wounds the amount of blood dripping across the man’s face was startling. Julien was sitting near the bar, but no-one appeared to have waited on him yet.

“Where the hell is the surgeon?” bellowed a man’s voice from upstairs. Immediately several of the scantily clad women looked at Brenan expectantly. "What the hell" thought Brenan.

“Can I help?” Brenan volunteered adding truthfully “I have some skill with battlefield medicine.” The bleeding guard looked him over and recognizing him as a veteran, he motioned for Brenan to climb the stairs. As Brenan approached the guard he was waved off.

“Not me” he said, “the boss.” With that Brenan followed him into the room with the open door. A man was lying on the bed thrashing and moaning incoherently while another armored man held him gently by the shoulders to keep the man from falling off the bed. Immediately Brenan saw that the injured man’s arm was protruding in an unnatural angle and his nose was broken and swelling.

“I’ll need hot water, and clean bandages. Also something that can be used as a splint, maybe some slats off that broken chair?” Brenan told one of the women that had followed him in. “What happened here?” He asked as he knelt by the moaning man.

“This boy came in and kicked the shit out of the place.” Brenan gently ran his hands over the ribs of the man lying on the bed who promptly groaned and coughed weakly, spitting bloody drool from the side of his mouth. Broken ribs. "You said a boy did this?” Brenan asked in amazement, two armored guards and this man taken out by a boy, something wasn’t right.

“Yeah, some kid with long red hair and an eye patch. Probably that freak’s younger brother.” Refering to Sasha Brenan guessed. "He went through Jake and I like we were a couple of the girls, then started pounding the hell out of Mr. Winters there.” As he spoke two of the girls came back carrying a pewter bowl of water, a pile of rags that once may have been a sheet as well as two of the slats from the broken chair were placed by his side.

“You’ll have to hold him.” Brenan told the man as he reached for the arm that curved unnaturally. This was not the first bone that Brenan had set, but the break on the forearm was worse than any he had ever dealt with. Both of the bones had been snapped and the man’s moans turned to a sharp scream as Brenan pulled his wrist firmly and straightened the forearm with a grinding twist. “Place the splints” Brenan grunted at one of the girls. As soon as the splints were in place Brenan wrapped the wooden slats with the strips of the bandages until the arm was locked into place.

“Ribs next.” Brenan said and noticed with some relief that the tavern owner had passed out from the pain. The guard held his boss in an upright sitting position while Brenan and the girls wrapped the ribs until his labored breathing eased noticeably. “Broken ribs hurt like hell, I know, I’ve had em.” Brenan told the guard before asking more questions. “So Winters here refused to tell the one-eyed kid where his sister was and the young man had to rough him up until he broke?”

“No that’s just it!” Exclaimed one of the girls “The boss told him right away. The whoreson just kept hitting him and kicking him and breaking things just for fun.” Brenan had known men like this one-eyed teen, but it took a particularly cold heart to casually **** a man in the middle of the day for no reason other than sick pleasure. “Then he took Sasha with him and was gone. I hope he never comes back here. He scared the shit out of me.”

Brenan had done most of what he could do easily, he still worried a little about the blood when the man coughed, but as he lay the **** Mr. Winters back onto the pillow he heard the sound of someone else stitching up the guard with the bloody face.

“I have to go.” He said as he straightened from the floor. “I’d have the surgeon check Mr. Winter's forearm before he leaves. I think I got it, but I’m not sure.” The whole procedure took a little over five minutes and having heard about what the strange youth did to the tavern owner just for fun, Brenan didn’t want to wait around any longer than he had to.

As he walked downstairs he waved to Julien and the two walked out where they were met by Julien.

“Ever heard of a one-eyed, red haired, teenaged martial artist who is a sadistic bastard?” When both brothers shook their heads he added “Me neither, but whoever it is, he has Sasha and I don’t think we have much time.”