An Unexpected Deity (Book 7)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  He would even consider going to Uniontown eventually to help Lark’s father, as the girl had asked him to. If Stuart and the forces of Duke Listay needed help in their civil war, Kestrel felt a debt of kinship to assist them too, once he saw his own home.

  The last traces of the blue sun dropped away from the night time sky, and Kestrel began to walk down the trail, back to camp, still glowing without even realizing it. He heard voices as he turned around a corner of the trail, and he came upon Lark and Wren, both sitting by the pothole pool of water that was fed by the waterskin he had propped above it. The pool was already full, and water was trickling out, running down the bed of the stream that had existed when the land had enjoyed a wetter climate.

  The two girls were undressed, sitting on the edge of the pool with their feet dangling in the water. At Kestrel’s approach they had raised their shirts in front of themselves.

  “Kestrel!” Wren called cheerfully. “This is very nice, thank you.”

  “But it’s also cold,” Lark added. “Can you be a kind and gentle god, and warm this for us?”

  Kestrel grinned at his two companions, then looked at the stony surroundings. He focused his attention on the rocks across from the girls, and made the stones start to glow red. The water closest to the stones began to steam. Pleased with his success, Kestrel closed his eyes and focused on stirring the water, mixing it thoroughly so that his friends would be able to indulge in a bath with uniform temperatures throughout.

  “Ah! That feels wonderful,” Wren murmured as the newly warmed water began to flow around her feet.

  Kestrel stood and smiled at the girls, pleased that he had been able to provide the small luxury of a warm bath for them. The burbling sound of the water skin’s flow falling into the pool continued to provide a relaxing background sound, and the situation seemed as relaxing as possible.

  “Well?” Wren asked, one elven eyebrow arched.

  Kestrel looked at her inquisitively.

  “Are you just going to stand there and watch us and wait for us to slip naked into the pool, or are you going to be a gentleman god and turn your back?” she asked.

  Kestrel blushed, and turned around. He heard the water ripple as the girls slid into the small pool.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Lark said with a tone that conveyed formality, and with that, the night seemed different to him.

  “I’ll leave you two to enjoy yourselves,” Kestrel said, and he walked on down the path. The others were at the site where they had eaten, and he sat, diminished his glow, and spoke softly with his companions until the two bathers returned sometime later.

  “The water was starting to get cold,” Wren explained why they had left the pool.

  “And our fingers were all wrinkled,” Lark added with a laugh. “That felt so wonderful, my lord,” she said to Kestrel, again speaking in a formal tone.

  They went to sleep that night, exhausted after the long days of journey and battle, no watch set to guard them, for there were no predators to fear any longer.

  As he lay drowsing in the darkness, curled up in his cloak, Kestrel heard a faint voice speaking to him. My lord Kestrel, please keep my father and brother safe, and protect them. We thank you for your kindness. Guard us all and bring us safe travels, amen.

  She was praying to him, and he was hearing it! He sat up abruptly and looked around.

  “No!” he spoke aloud.

  The heads of the others who were laying down rose in alarm.

  “What is it my lord? Is there a problem?” Stuart asked.

  “Kestrel, what troubles you?” Morph asked from his spot.

  “It’s Lark. She’s praying to me,” Kestrel said. “I’m not that kind of god; she shouldn’t pray to me!”

  “You heard my prayer?” Lark asked as she sat up. “I only prayed in my own heart! You are truly a god to hear such a prayer, Kestrel. Won’t you please help us, help my father? Come back with us and use your powers for him?” She rose to her feet and walked over to him, then knelt next to him as she spoke.

  Kestrel saw the plea that was writ large across her face, the desperation she felt to help her father. A part of him wanted to help her, but a part also wanted to help Tullamore, and most of all, the greatest part wanted to go home and restart his own life. There were so many requests for his time and efforts, and so little time for himself.

  He started to reply, to tell her no, when he saw Tullamore not far behind her, the girl and the god, the two comrades who had asked him to help. They both had worthy causes, and lives that seemed to depend on his engagement. He realized that despite all he had given already – from taking Hampus on his journey, to exterminating the Viathins around the Inner Seas, to setting Krusima and Morph free – he still could not find it in his heart to say ‘no’ to his companions.

  “I will not go back to the Inner Seas with you,” Kestrel told Lark. Her hand shot out and smacked the side of his face viciously, rocking his head back.

  “I hate you!” she screamed.

  “I will stay here to help Tullamore,” Kestrel said evenly, wanting to rub his cheek, but refusing to give Lark the satisfaction of seeing his pain. “And when that is done, I will come to Uniontown to help your father.”

  Lark looked at him with a wide-eyed stare. “Do you mean it? Really?” she asked. She clutched her hands together in front of her, in a gesture of pleading.

  “If you promise not to pray to me anymore,” Kestrel replied.

  “I won’t!” she answered fervently.

  “And if you promise not to slap me anymore,” Kestrel added.

  “Oh Kestrel, I’m so sorry,” she tentatively reached a hand out towards his cheek, then stopped before she touched him.

  “This is all delightful, I’m sure,” Krusima said. “A new god learning how to handle his worshippers. It’s a refreshing approach to take, to forbid them to worship you.”

  “She’s not a worshipper; she a girl, just a girl,” Kestrel said in exasperation. He looked from Krusima to Lark, and saw the hurt in her eyes from being described as ‘just a girl’. She rose from his side, and hurried back to her sleeping spot.

  After moments of silence that were free of drama, the others in the camp laid their heads back down and tried to return to sleep.

  I’m sorry, Kestrel carefully directed his thoughts towards Lark, hoping to diminish the girl’s hurt feelings. It was an experiment on his part to see if he could make his thoughts be heard by another. I didn’t mean for that to sound the way it came out. You’re more than ‘just a girl’, he said. You’re brave and loyal and reliable.

  Are you talking to a puppy or a girl? He heard the tart retort, but was shocked that it came from Wren’s voice. Those are hardly the words a man should use to woo a girl – try words like loving and kind and pretty, especially pretty, his cousin told him, the tones of a wicked grin embedded in her thoughts.

  I’m sorry, my mistake, he replied silently, embarrassed. Wren would remember his mistake, and he would hear about it again in the future, he was sure.

  Kestrel waited several seconds while he tried to figure out his mistake in projecting his thoughts. He focused again on Lark, and the memory he had of the feel of her prayer, then he cautiously redirected a comment.

  Lark, can you hear me? He asked

  Go away, the girl’s voice sounded petulantly.

  That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it, he told her accusingly. I’ve seen you go through all the challenges of this journey, and I know you’re more than just any girl. You’re brave and faithful, he told her, and he thought of Wren’s sarcastic comments, and you’re pretty as well, he added. He could say it with a straight face; she was a pretty girl, he admitted, and if anything, the rigors of their long trip seemed to have given her face more character and strength as some of the youthful fullness was replaced with sharper features. He held his breath, waiting to hear any response she might make, any reaction to his awkward and spontaneous effort to compliment her appropriately.


  There was no answer from Lark, and after several long seconds, Kestrel gave up and finally fell asleep, wondering if he had mishandled the exchange.

  The next day the group traveled across the countryside to reach the gate that would provide access to the lands of the Inner Seas.

  “You really plan for us to stay here to help the god of the Skyes?” Wren asked Kestrel as they trudged down a hill in a large valley where two dry river beds came together.

  “No, just me. I want you and everyone else to go back home. I’ll need for you to make sure Woven and Stillwater can get back to their own homes; the humans can hopefully take care of themselves without a great deal of help,” Kestrel told the girl. “There will be no more fighting here, so you wouldn’t have any fun staying behind any longer,” he told her with a grin.

  “I could give you a fight, god or no god,” she growled in mock anger. “But it would be nice to see Creata again. I’m sure he misses me!”

  “We’ll come back to this place,” Tullamore told Kestrel as they crossed the bottom of the wide valley an hour later, “after your friends are all safely on their way. Thank you for agreeing to stay here longer; you’ll make it possible for the race of my followers to live on into the future.” The god’s voice carried a profound sense of gratitude.

  A short time later, Gates suddenly slapped the middle of his back.

  “Kinst!” Tullamore said instantly, causing the Skyes to begin clacking to one another rapidly.

  “The Kinst are attacking! Cover or die!” they said as they all stopped walking and pulled their legs in tightly against their bodies, reducing the amount of vulnerable tissue they exposed.

  “No,” Tullamore said calmly, “this is not going to happen. We will remove this pestilence from the land once again.” The god reached out one of its legs towards Gates, as the man pulled his bloody hand away from the wound in his back.

  As soon as Tullamore touched Gates, his body glowed with a yellow color. He looked at the god in surprise, then screamed loudly once. There was a fearful fleshy, retching-like noise, and a mass of white, twisting and turning, slimy material floated out of Gates’s back. The mass was contained within the same yellow glow that Gates had been surrounded by, and Tullamore’s glow left the man, surrounding only the infection as the god moved it through the air, the others in the party hastily moving away from it in terror, while Gates knelt in pain.

  “This nest shall be a threat no more,” the god calmly said, and then he sent the glowing mass rocketing upwards into the sky, so high that it disappeared from the sight of even Kestrel’s vision. There was a sudden bright flare of light, and a few seconds later a distant clap of thunder reached them.

  “Please tend to you man,” Tullamore addressed Krusima. “My apologies for the small harm I caused, but time was of the essence, and there was no time to explain.”

  “Stillwater,” Kestrel called, “bring the water skin to treat Gates,” he conveyed.

  “The man is a human. He is mine to tend to,” Krusima immediately challenged Kestrel. “Why do you think you’re the one to treat him?” Stillwater, who had started to respond, froze in place, looking inquiringly at Kestrel

  “I think he won’t care who treats him, he just needs to be treated,” Kestrel answered. He was torn between wondering whether he had truly breached some godly protocol or whether Krusima’s fragile ego had simply over-reacted.

  “Heal him quickly, to reduce his pain,” Kestrel urged. “If you don’t, I will,” he said bluntly, deciding to risk a confrontation. He shook his head slightly at Stillwater, preventing the imp from getting too close to Gates too quickly

  “I shall heal him as I choose. Even in this weakened state, I can do this much for a loyal follower,” Krusima spoke in an abrupt manner, but he nonetheless strolled over to Gates and laid a hand on the man, held it there for a second, then released him.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Gates said to Krusima.

  Thank you, my lord, Lark prayed silently to Kestrel, for your good intentions.

  The journey resumed without further comment.

  After a continued walk up the hills on the far side of the valley, the Skyes led them up a path to a low cave entrance.

  “This is where you must go,” Tullamore said.

  “Down there? Are we going to have to crawl forever again?” Lark asked.

  “The cave is larger inside,” Krusima answered. “I’ll meet you in there,” he said, and then disappeared.

  “That’s how a god works!” Wren told Kestrel, digging her elbow into his ribs as they stood side by side. “No self-respecting god will get down on his knees and crawl around!”

  Kestrel shrugged off her jibe, and when his turn came, he ducked down to crawl behind the others. He noted that Morph also inconspicuously disappeared from the group as they began to crawl. The cave was dark, and Kestrel instinctively began to glow. After twenty yards the ceiling rose dramatically, and he saw his companions rising to their feet, as the height of the chamber was revealed by his illumination.

  “Having a glowing god is so useful,” Woven spoke. The gnome had been unusually quiet since the events in the Viathin temple had unfolded, and Kestrel was glad to hear him speak.

  “Perhaps you should suggest that to Corrant, the next time you pray to him,” Kestrel answered. The gnomish god was one with a gentle core, despite the rough exterior he projected, and Kestrel thought the divinity would find humor in a suggestion for such an improvement from one of his followers. The two both grinned at the thought, then turned to follow, as Tullamore and the Skyes led the way deeper into the interior of the cavern.

  Morph and Krusima suddenly appeared.

  “Where will this take us in our own land?” Morph asked.

  “It is a place near an ocean,” Tullamore replied. “I remember smelling scents of salt water that sometimes wafted through the air of the passage. It was back in the days when our own land had oceans and flowing water as well.

  “But I do not know enough about your land to tell you where the water is,” he added.

  “Once we’re back, we’re back!” Krusima crowed. “My worshippers will be pleased! I’ll reward them with gifts and blessings throughout the day and night, so that they know they can count on me and worship me.”

  Will you make sure all my friends get to where they need to go, safely? Kestrel silently asked Morph.

  I will, of course. What assistance do you imagine they need? his father asked.

  Woven comes from the southern gnomes, and knows no other languages to speak to the peoples he might encounter, Kestrel explained. Stillwater and all the imps cannot travel between places, because there is a Rishiare Estelle, a bloody sun in the sky.

  “A bloody sun?” Morph asked aloud. “We’ve not had one of those in a few years. They’re a dratted nuisance.”

  “A bloody sun?” Krusima asked, hearing the comment. “Who says there’s a bloody sun?”

  “We all saw it before we left,” Kestrel replied. “It limits some of the abilities of the imps,” he nodded towards Stillwater.

  “And of the gods as well, even,” Morph added.

  “And if you don’t know where you’ll come out in the Inner Seas, the duchess and her men are in a hurry to return to Uniontown to fight for her father,” Kestrel completed his list of concerns. “Wren will take care of herself, of course,” he added with a straight face. He watched the surprise that was the first expression she showed, followed by outrage, and then humor.

  “When we come out of this cave back home, we’ll be sure to tell everyone nearby that the next one they see coming through is a Viathin in disguise, to be hunted down immediately,” she warned him.

  They walked on, and after a long stretch of a stony passage, the floor titled abruptly upward, like a ramp rising to a different floor. The cave turned sharply to the left as well, and as the leaders of the group went through the curve, Krusima gave a triumphant shout.

  “I feel it! I feel the threshold! We’ve reache
d the edge of our own land at last! I’ll never go anywhere else looking for followers!” he crowed.

  “You must stop here, if you are truly committed to holding onto your powers to help my people,” Tullamore told Kestrel. “Beyond this you will return to the sphere of your own land, and your divine power will disappear.”

  Kestrel halted in his position near the end of the procession. He hadn’t expected such an abrupt ending to the journey together with his friends. He had tried to prepare for it with his conversations, but he hadn’t thought that it would strike so quickly.

  “Wren!” he called ahead.

  His cousin stopped and turned to look at him inquiringly.

  “I have to stop here,” he said.

  The others in the group ceased to move forward as well, all except Krusima.

  “He’ll be fine. We’ll see him all too soon, back on his own schedule, making hay with Kai all over again,” the human god spoke in a belittling tone.

  “Kestrel, right now?” Wren asked. She walked back towards him.

  “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do before we part?” he asked.

  She shook her head helplessly. “I wouldn’t know what to say. You’re sure you’ll be back soon?” she asked. “The duchess is counting on seeing you.”

  “Shall I stay here with you, Kestrel lord?” Stillwater asked.

  “You, more than anyone, deserve a chance to finally be on the road back to your home,” Kestrel told the imp fondly. “You’ve been on this entire journey with me, from the days when we traveled through the Water Mountains to the visit to Kiravee, to all of this. Go home my friend, and tell the imps I’ll be back someday to share some mushrooms with them!”

  “But leave the water skin behind, please,” Tullamore spoke up. Stillwater held up the skin uncertainly. Kestrel had not thought of the skin since Stillwater had retrieved it from the impromptu bath tub the night before.