Free The Choosing by Jeremy Laszlo, Ronnell Porter Page A

broke the tension in the room.  Across from them, at the bar, stood one of the drunken men, holding one of the Inn’s stools in his hand.  Next to him on the ground lay another one of the drunks writhing in pain clutching his face as blood spilled out between his fingers.  Several men in the inn stood up.  The barkeep, large as he was, ducked behind the counter as if to hide.  The large burly drunk scanned the crowd measuring up those who had stood to intervene.  Still holding the stool raised above him in one hand he turned back to the bar as the barkeep returned from behind the counter.  The barkeep was now holding a small crossbow, drawn and loaded.  If the drunk persisted he would drop where he stood.
    “It time to call it a night John.”  Stated the barkeep coolly.  “Why don’t you go home, we can square up your tab tomorrow?”
    The drunk, apparently named John, looked the barkeep in the face, and then glanced down at the crossbow.  Hesitating momentarily, John lowered his stool then let it drop to the stone floor with a clatter.  He looked at the man at his feet, turned and walked to the door muttering something about not gonna fight for Valdadore anymore, and how someone was gonna answer for his ruined night, then he strode, somewhat unevenly out the door slamming it behind him.  Everyone in the room watched him go, everyone but Ashton.  The gangly blonde bounced out of his chair and weaved himself between the stunned patrons towards the injured man.  Coming to the man’s side Ashton dropped to his knees and closed his eyes, looking to the sky.  His childish features relaxed and he spoke soft words then in Prayer to his Goddess, and opening his eyes looked down to the man who lay before him.  Lightly grabbing the man’s protective hands, he peeled them back to assess the damage.  Several people who had gathered around him, including the twins, gasped at the sight.  The man's jaw was broken and ripped wide open spurting blood, his nose almost completely detached from his face.  Ashton composed his face to one of un-terrified concern.  He lowered his own hands above the man's face leaving a breath of a hair between himself and the man's mangled features.  Chanting something nearly inaudible Ashton’s features seemed strained with some unseen exertion.  Yellow and white light began to glow at his fingertips slowly, steadily encompassing his entire hands.  With each repetition of his chant the light increased in intensity.  Sweat beaded on Ashton’s forehead, and his body began to tremble lightly.  He chanted louder and louder though his words were incoherent, something foreign.  The light from his hands now encompassed the face of the injured man, and Ashton’s body shook more violently.  Almost as if a cold wind blew down the young healer’s spine his body shuddered as the magic took him over racing through his blood.  Ashton’s body was consumed in light for a moment as he regained control over the power that coursed through him.  As if struck with an arrow he suddenly stopped chanting, his eyes popping wide open, he grinned in the direction of the twins then went limp falling to the floor.  Ashton lay, eyes wide, breathing shallowly, still grinning at the amazing sensation coursing through his blood.  The injured man lay next to Ashton, lying in a pool of his own blood.  The man looked up at the faces around him, mouths wide open in wonder or horror, and he couldn’t be sure which.  All the man knew was that most of the pain in his face had abated and the ringing in his ears had vanished completely.  Not knowing how to react, he put his hands back up to shield his face, try to stop the blood.  There was no blood, not now.  Reaching up to touch his face he found with his blood stained fingers that his face had been completely and utterly restored.  The guests all stared at the man on the floor and the boy beside him speechless.  Only Garret and Seth reacted.  They