“It was originally a gift from Kai,” Kestrel said. “She invested her energy into it, to make it a shield that protects me. Then another goddess, Robaske, took it away because she needed the energy in it. Then Kai gave some of her energy to me, and I used the energy to recreate the shield, and make it a little bigger.”
Hiram looked at him with a skeptical expression. “Is that Moorin’s face in there?” he ignored the fantastic story and peered at the elements of the tattoo.
“Yes,” Kestrel confirmed.
“She’s that important to you, that you have her image on your chest?” Hiram asked, looking over at where Moorin herself was sitting up as well, as the others in the party began to awaken in the sunlight.
“I thought she was,” Kestrel replied. “Maybe she isn’t; maybe she’s just a mission for me.” He looked away from Hiram, then over at Moorin, then walked back into the center of the small camp.
Hierodule and Lake came over to inspect the colorful shield on Kestrel’s chest, joined shortly thereafter by Moorin, before Kestrel suggested they each eat a quick bite and resume their journey.
He carried Hierodule again during the morning, and then let Lake take a turn carrying her in the afternoon, between their lunch and the mid-afternoon break.
“How much farther do you think it is to the place we can find shelter?” Kestrel asked the other elf.
“It’s so hard to tell out here, without any landmarks,” Lake replied.
“Stillwater, would you go scout ahead and see if you can find a large rocky hill or pile of stones?” Kestrel asked the commander of the imps. “We’d like to get there tonight if possible.”
Stillwater and Killcen flew away to explore the road farther ahead, while the rest of them sipped water from their skins and rested in the relative warmth of the sunshine. They were in a shallow valley, sheltered enough to avoid any breeze, so that the air felt good, and they lingered for several minutes before Kestrel suggested they ought to begin to move on. He gave his belongings to Moorin to carry, then lifted Hierodule in his arms once again, and they started the journey.
“I’m sorry to be such a bother,” she apologized as she rode in his arms.
“You are a part of our crew, and we won’t leave anyone behind,” Kestrel reassured her. “We’re in unguarded territory, so there’s no danger of the Viathins or their Uniontown guards catching us out here, and hopefully we’ll be in Lake’s land of safety in another day or two,” he reiterated all the positive items he could think of.
“I imagine I’ll be able to walk by tomorrow,” Hierodule said hopefully.
“I would think so too,” Kestrel agreed.
“Kestrel friend,” Stillwater came gliding down to see him, “we found the stony hill ahead. I think that you should be able to reach it just before nightfall.”
Kestrel thanked the imp, and informed the others.
They continued to trudge along on their way, resting occasionally and watching the sun advance towards the west. Small clouds began to drift overhead, and then the overcast in the sky grew heavier, and shortly before sunset a light sprinkle of rain began to fall, and to grow into a steady downpour that left them all slopping through slippery, muddy ashes.
“There it is!” Lake shouted. He pointed ahead, and in the dim light they saw the tor that was their destination, not far ahead. “We’ll be there in five minutes.”
Hierodule gave a sudden grunt, and Kestrel felt her body twitch. “Kestrel, I think my water just broke!” she said loudly.
“We need to hurry to the hill,” Kestrel shouted. “Is there a dry place we can get to quickly? A cave or sheltered spot under a ledge?”
At that moment, a volley of arrows flew at the group from the stones overhead.
“What’s happening? Is it Uniontown ambushing us?” Kestrel shouted. He hurriedly placed Hierodule on the ground and knelt in front of her, trying to use his chest as a shield to protect the woman.
He heard her give a groan. “Kestrel, I’m having a contraction,” she wailed.
Kestrel awkwardly pulled his bow from under the cloak he wore, and looked up at the hill that rose above them. He saw a figure running from one stone to another, and he released his first arrow.
Moorin cried as more arrows flew down at them, and one struck her leg.
Kestrel felt his anger ignite, and he pulled Lucretia from his hip, then looked in the direction of where he thought the arrow had come that had struck Moorin. As soon as he saw movement he released the knife.
He tried to aim an arrow, and saw a pair of imps dive down at a short stone wall, apparently trying to help Kestrel and his friends in the open. When a figure stood up from behind the stone wall and shot an arrow at the imps, Kestrel released his own arrow, then called for Lucretia to return.
Just as the knife handle struck his hand, an arrow from the hillside struck his chest and knocked him backwards, so that he had to awkwardly step back over Hierodule with one foot to maintain his balance.
At the same time he heard a high-pitched scream, and he caught a momentary glimpse of a small blue body falling from the sky.
He heard Lake’s voice screaming with an impressive volume, speaking words he didn’t understand.
And then his anger exploded.
Chapter 17 – Mourning
Kestrel felt the powerful emotions in his own soul well up, the anger at the ambush, the fear about Hierodule’s labor, the shock at seeing an imp injured in battle.
Kestrel’s anger erupted beyond his control, and his sense of reason raced after it, trying to bring it under control. With a wordless scream, Kestrel pointed his finger at the stone wall that he assumed had sheltered those who attacked the imps. A thin stream of reddish energy erupted from his hand, and as it shot at the stone wall, it made the material of the wall vaporize, revealing the half dozen figures crouched down behind it.
Kestrel reached for his bow, and pulled out an arrow, that he calmly shot at one of the figures, as the suddenly-revealed warriors froze in astonishment at the disappearance of their shelter. He pulled out a second arrow and shot, then pulled out a third and shot it as well.
The remaining figures began to run for new protection. Kestrel flicked Lucretia out of his sheath and let the blade fly towards one of the sliding figures that was exposed in the open.
“No, Kestrel, stop,” he heard Moorin shout, as he raised another arrow and aimed at a different running figure, then released the arrow.
“Kestrel, stop, stop!” he heard Hierodule shout behind him.
He pulled out another arrow and shot at the last of the half dozen he blamed for the imp’s descent.
“Kestrel, stop, it’s a mistake! Stop, they are our friends!” he heard Lake shouting as the elf came running towards him.
Kestrel raised his hand again, the anger within him still seeking to achieve a complete release, a complete victory, and he searched for another target. There was a spur on the hillside and he released a stream of energy that cut the roots out from beneath the spur, sending a landslide of stone and mud and rain and a pair of bodies hurdling down the hillside.
“Kestrel, don’t attack anymore!” Hiram was grabbing at his arm, trying to end the murderous use of the power. They’re not fighting back!”
Kestrel swung his arm forcefully and flung the man down into the dark mud, then swiveled and pointed his hand down at Hiram’s chest, ready to release another bolt of energy. He looked at Hiram’s face, and saw the fear there, as well as sadness and regret, and the look of woe in his companion’s eyes broke through his anger.
He stopped, and took a deep breath, then slowly lowered his hand and looked around.
All his companions were clustered around him, except the imps, who were tightly wedged together not many yards distant, surrounding their fallen comrade on the ground. On the hillside not a single figure moved, and no arrows were flying towards them.
With a series of deep breaths Kestrel labored to bottle up the anger and banish it below the surfa
ce. “What’s happening? Why have they stopped attacking us?” he asked loudly.
“These are my people,” Lake said. “These are the guards of the southern elves. They saw us wearing these Uniontown cloaks, and thought we were enemies.”
Hierodule gave another cry of pain, as a new labor contraction rippled through her body.
“Is there some place we can take her immediately?” Kestrel asked. “She’s having a baby. And Moorin needs attention too.” He bent down and extended his hand to Hiram, to help the man regain his feet.
“There is a chamber in the hill,” Lake replied. “Let me go ahead and let them know what we have happening. Can you carry her up?”
“I will,” Kestrel shouted. “And then I’ll bring Moorin. Take Hiram up with you and tell him to direct me on where to follow.”
Kestrel turned back to where Hierodule was groaning. “It’s going to be okay,” he tried to calm her, even as he felt his own unsteady reaction to the energy he had been using and its sudden cessation. He bent and began to pick her up, only to feel her body convulse as she whimpered and bit her lip so hard he saw a drop of blood momentarily emerge before a raindrop splashed it away.
He heaved upward and felt his back twinge as he raised Hierodule. “I’ll be back to help you in a moment,” he spoke to Moorin, then began to plod through the rain and the mud towards the hill, and followed the path of footsteps that lead upwards. He stopped once when Hierodule had another contraction, and then he spotted Hiram standing not far away, waving his arms.
“It’s this way,” Hiram offered, as he took hold of Hierodule’s hand and began to lead Kestrel along a distinct path. A moment later they passed behind a large boulder, and came to a patch of dim light; they turned in through the opening in the stone behind the boulder, and found a large cavern opening within, bright with lantern light.
All eyes were turned towards Kestrel, more than two dozen pairs of elven eyes. He stopped as Hierodule cried out from the pain of another contraction. “She in labor? Is there a medic here who can help?” Hiram shouted.
“I’m a medic,” a slender elven maid spoke up, pronouncing the human words with care. “Bring her over here by the fire,” the woman directed, and Kestrel hurried over to gently place Hierodule down, as the other elves around the cavern skittered nervously away from his presence.
“I’ll go back and get Moorin,” Kestrel told Hiram as he stood up, after releasing Hierodule.
“Thank you, Kestrel,” the pregnant woman moaned as she stared up at him, then she shut her eyes in pain.
Kestrel turned and left the cave. He skidded down the hill and ran to Moorin, who he picked up in his arms.
“What is this place?” she asked him.
“There’s a large cavern, with more than a score of elves. There’s a woman who says she’s a medic, and she’s tending to Hierodule already. She should be able to take care of you,” he told her as she grimaced from the jostling of her leg.
“What were you doing in that battle?” Moorin asked Kestrel. “I haven’t seen you do anything like that before.”
“I was angry at the ambush, and I let my anger call upon the other power within me,” he answered.
“It’s frightening, Kestrel,” she said simply.
“It was the best way to fight back at the time,” he told her in a tone that indicated he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, as they reached the trail halfway up the hillside, and he carried Moorin into the cavern.
“Where shall I put this one?” he spoke in elvish as he asked the medic, when he carried Moorin over by the spot where Hierodule was being tended. The air in the cave was smoky, but not as badly as Kestrel would have expected, telling him that there was some means for the rising smoke to escape.
“Lay her down over here,” a male elf said, indicating a pallet of furs that was prepared just a few yards away. “I’m a healer as well. I’ll tend to her ladyship’s wound.”
“I’ll be back,” Kestrel told Moorin as he placed her down, then stood again. “I need to go visit the imps.”
Without another word he turned and left the cave again. The rain was diminishing outside, and he saw the imps with greater clarity as he approached them.
“What is the situation?” he asked gently as he joined the small people.
“It is Canyon; he is dead,” Odare said mournfully.
“It was a lucky shot,” Kestrel tried to be supportive. “No mortal elf could have knowingly have hit an imp with an arrow.”
“He was trying to protect you,” Stillwater said simply. “It was what he was assigned to do, and he died doing what he knew was the right thing to do to protect not just you, Kestrel-hope, but to protect our nation through your efforts.”
“I will try my best to carry out the mission; I will not let him down for lack of effort,” Kestrel pledged solemnly, tearfully.
Rays of red sunlight from the setting sun began to shine upon the battlefield as the clouds from the rain shower began to disperse, and the rain ceased to fall upon them.
“We must go now,” Stillwater said.
“Where are you going?” Kestrel asked in surprise.
“We must take his body home, so that his spirit may join the ancestors,” Odare answered.
“May we use your cloak to wrap him in for the journey? He will feel warmer knowing that he has something of yours with him,” Stillwater requested.
Kestrel stood and removed his cloak. “But you cannot yet use the fast ways to travel, can you?” he asked.
Killcen responded. “We will fly over the land and over the sea. We will travel the same way we have since the winter began and we chose to follow you.”
“That is a long journey. There are sure to be many challenges,” Kestrel warned, unable to imagine how distant the Swampy Morass truly was from the present location.
“We have had much practice during these recent weeks, following you. We are strong and will find our way,” Stillwater assured Kestrel as they finished their preparations.
“Here,” Kestrel handed them his pack of supplies, dwindling though it was. It would provide some nourishment for them, better than nothing at all. “Take this with you.
“I will miss you all, both as partners and as friends,” Kestrel told them, with real feeling in his heart. The imp squad had been with him for many months, through adventures in Graylee, the North Forest, Seafare, and Uniontown. The imps represented the last tangible ties he had to the old life he had known in the East Forest, and losing their company would leave him even more isolated and cut off from his past as he struggled through the challenges he faced in the western world.
He bent down and opened his arms wide, and the three imps came into his embrace, wrapping their own arms tightly around him for a long, comforting farewell.
“Be very careful. When the spring time comes and all of this is over, I want to see all of you again at the Healing Spring,” Kestrel told them as they slipped reluctantly away from his embrace.
He watched as they positioned themselves and began to lift Canyon’s body up into the dim red sky overhead, then dwindled slowly away until they were invisible to his elven vision. Kestrel remembered when he had last promised Canyon a long visit to the Healing Spring, and he felt a fresh flood of regret over the imp’s death, and his unmet promise.
He wiped the tears from his eyes, then turned and walked through the darkness that was now complete, and climbed up the hillside to reach the path that led to the cave where the elves and his friends were waiting.
As he approached the entrance he could hear multiple conversations, and he found no guard posted at the opening. He stepped to the threshold of the cavern and took two steps inside, then stood silently and looked out over the activities taking place. Hierodule was holding a baby to her breast, nursing the child as Hiram knelt next to the pair. The medic was tending to Moorin’s leg, as Lake stood next to them, holding the arrow that had apparently been withdrawn from the wound. Both groups were surrounded by small clus
ters of lookers-on; Lake seeming to draw a contingent all by himself.
Other elves were preparing a meal by a cooking fire on the other side of the cavern, while a small group was sitting together cleaning and fixing weapons, and socially chatting with one another. None paid any attention to him standing at the doorway watching them, and he shook his head at the loose discipline that was an invitation for disaster.
Someone spotted him at that moment, and the group by the fire looked at him, growing silent. Their silence drew the attention of the weapon menders, who also grew silent, and moments later, all eyes were fixed on Kestrel. He stood for a moment more, drawing their attention, then stepped down into the cavern and approached Lake’s group.
“There should be a guard posted at the door, and one out on the hill to warn the one at the door,” he spoke in elvish, noting that everyone else spoke elvish, except those by Hierodule.
“The troop wanted to hold a feast to celebrate our arrival,” Lake told Kestrel, though Kestrel noted a certain guardedness in his tone.
“Let me tell them that you are the one who rescued me from the Monsters,” Lake said excitedly, trying to improve Kestrel’s humor.
“They killed Canyon,” Kestrel responded. “One of the imps is dead, and the others have left to carry his body home.”
“Oh Kestrel, I’m sorry,” Moorin spoke up, looking up at the pair as she sat on the ground while the medic tended to her wound.
“I’m sorry too,” Lake added. “It is difficult to lose a friend and a companion. I hope you understand, that is why our arrival is so special. I am the Tyndell Span, and I have returned. Our people have lost so much in the past few years, friends, lives, the forest, independence and our entire way of life. My return from captivity is the best thing to happen in a long time.
“It gives them hope again,” Lake said plaintively, “and I know I need to let them have this celebration tonight. Tomorrow we’ll make the journey to the Western Mountains and join the gnomes, but tonight we can be the Southern Elves again.”
“I’ll go stand guard tonight so that all of you can enjoy yourselves,” Kestrel said gruffly.
The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 05 - Journey to Uniontown Page 24