“I just arrived through a portal from another world. I’m lost, and I’ve trying to find a different portal that will take me back to my own world,” he said in a waspish tone.
“You came through the portal in the cave down there?” the creature nodded its head toward the very gully that Kestrel had come through. “Is the land still under the blue sun?”
“Yes, it is,” Kestrel faltered slightly. The creature was aware of what he was talking about, to his surprise.
“So you’re just passing through here? Why not use another portal from that land? It has several, I believe. We only have three, well, two and a fraction, really,” the creature was astonishing well informed.
“I just came through this one, and I want to go to the land of the Inner Seas,” Kestrel explained. The creature might be a good source of information after all.
The creature looked at him with eyes wide open once again.
“You are the traveler Decimindion spoke of,” the creature virtually purred the words.
Kestrel’s eye widened instantly. “Decimindion? God of the Parstoles?” he asked. “Is this his land?”
“No, it’s my land,” the creature said sharply. “He is only one of the gods here – not the only god.”
“He is the city god,” Kestrel recollected. “He told me. The god of the farmers was killed by the Viathins, and the god of the wilderness, was weakened. Is that you?” he asked the small creature.
“So he did mention me, did he? How nice of mighty Decimindion,” the animal said. “But I don’t match up to your vision of what a goddess should be? Should I look like this?” suddenly the small animal was gone, and in its place stood a female Parstole, with a creamy red skin color, small horns that were barely nubs on her forehead, and a voluptuous figure barely covered by a few strategically strewn tree leaves. She had a long, long tail that she whisked back and forth with a hypnotic rhythm.
“This is what you want to see, creature from beyond? Your name is Kestrel, is it not? You brought back many of the Parstoles that had been carried away as slaves, did you not?” the reshaped goddess took a step towards Kestrel, and he instinctively stepped back away from her advance.
She laughed, and shrunk back to her small creature form. “This is not so intimidating, is it?” she asked.
“No, it’s not,” Kestrel agreed as he swallowed hard.
“And you are who I think you are?” she asked.
“I am, my lady. And what is your name? How shall I address you?” he asked.
“You may call me Medeina, goddess of the wilderness,” she answered. “What do you think of the wilderness? Let me examine your heart,” she said calmly. She reverted to the Parstole form and stepped towards him, then lashed her long tail towards him and curled it around his wrist in a firm, unshakeable grip.
He felt her powers penetrate him and examine him, sorting through his feelings and his memories.
“How extraordinary!” she exclaimed as he felt the examination end. It had not been painful, but it had been intrusive. Her tail still held his wrist tightly, and she stepped closer yet to him.
“Your soul has been written upon as though it were a floodway next to a might river, covered with new layers every time the waters rise. I feel as though I could dig down through the layers that cover your soul and see the hints of a tale more extraordinary than any ever told before,” Medeina told Kestrel. “You are unique.” She walked around behind him, holding him in place, and circled around to the other side of him.
“I’ve been through the other portal of your world, the one that leads to the world of the Albanuns. If I go through it, and then go through the Albanuns’ world, I can reach my home!”
As he said it, he realized it was true. He knew now that he had a way to get home. It would take him weeks, but it was a path he had to follow. He started to cry, and then the goddess wrapped her arms around her, as her tail released his wrist and became a third appendage hugging him, giving him comfort.
“I told you that we have two and a half portals,” she said as she held him. “You’ve just come through one. The portal that goes to the Albanuns is far across our land; it would take you over a month to go there. The third portal, the one that is closed, is only two days away from here.
“It is closed, but it goes directly to your world,” she startled Kestrel by saying. “And I think you can open it up again.”
He pulled away from her, and looked into her bright red eyes. As he did, she suddenly transformed back into the small animal, and he found that he was holding her in his arms. Her wide-eyed look, sudden transformation, and news of the nearness of a portal made his sobs of joy suddenly evolve into laughter.
“You’re a goddess worth loving,” he said to the small animal.
“You might be a worshipper worth keeping; be careful,” the creature laughed. “Now, turn around; we need to go in the opposite direction.”
And so Kestrel carried his guide for the remainder of the day. At sunset she showed him which plants were edible, and told him to pick enough for the two of them, as she reverted to her Parstole form and sat with him in the darkness under the trees. They ate and talked.
“So you were a god, truly divine with powers?” Medeina asked. “And you gave them up? You must be angry!”
“I did not give them up the way I expected to,” Kestrel said, remembering the painful ordeal with Tullamore and the Kovell. “But I did not mind giving them up, in order to leave the land of the Skyes. I want to return to my own people,” he added softly. “I want to very much.”
“Ah, but which people?” the red goddess asked. Kestrel was glad there was not a fire burning, for he imagined the disquiet he would feel if he saw her figure by the wavering illumination of the flames. “I sense that you are of more than one race.”
“I no longer care,” Kestrel answered truthfully. “I don’t think I have to adjust to them; it’s the soul of the person that matters, not their skin texture, or the shape of their ears. They need to adjust to me, to learn to be open-minded.”
“Ah, how extraordinary your world must be for the gods,” Medeina sighed. “So many races, so many gods, so much activity and worship and dynamics! We have only one race and two gods here. Would you like for me to come with you so that I could sample your world’s frivolities?” she asked slyly.
Kestrel was sure she was teasing him, but not completely sure. “I do not want to take you away from your wilderness,” he answered. “You seem to be getting stronger since the Viathins were expelled, and I know your wilderness must need you. I found out how much a world needs a god,” he said, thinking of the chaos that had overtaken the Inner Seas kingdoms when the Viathins had weakened the native gods of the land.
“That’s a pretty speech, but not your real answer, as we both know. I think you’re just afraid of being seen with me! Don’t you think I am striking to look at?” she asked, as she raised her hands over her head and stretched her body.
“You are very striking,” Kestrel gulped. And yet he thought about Lark, the slender human girl, with a physique that was so much more lean and muscular, and then he was surprised to realize that he had paid such attention to her physique when he had seen her and Wren in the temporary bath tub he had created for them, as his memory lingered over the features of the girl.
Medeina laughed at Kestrel, then reverted to her small animal shape. “I will go inspect my wilderness now,” she told him. “You go to sleep, and perhaps by this time tomorrow, we will send you back to your own world.” And with that exciting tease, she waddled away out of his elven sight.
Kestrel slept soundly on the soft loamy soil of the forest, wrapped in his cloak. He had gone through a long day of stressful travel, and it astonished him to realize that just the night before he had been in the battle with the Kovell, and Tullamore had drained away his divine powers, luring the mist out of his soul.
The next day he awoke to find the small creature sitting upon a rotting log, waiting for him to ari
se. “Grab some of those for us to eat, and let’s get going,” Medeina commanded as she gestured at a bush with leafy foliage. Together the two of them left the campsite, Kestrel carrying Medeina and following her directions as the two of them ate their breakfast.
The terrain was easily passable, with rolling hills and shallow valleys. There were a few large streams in the land that still had not completely recovered from the assault of the Viathins, and Kestrel delighted Medeina by running atop the water in the largest of them. As nightfall approached and the sky overhead began to turn red, the small creature left Kestrel’s arms to become the alluring female Parstole once again. They stopped on the precipice of another stream bed, one with unusually steep and deep banks, and a bed that was mostly sandy soil and weeds.
“The stream here runs mostly underneath the surface, in caves,” Medeina explained. “When we have rains, as we used to have, the stream would have an abundance of water, and it would come up to the surface and run here for a few days, then sink and disappear into its cave once again.
“And right over here,” she led him down the bank, and around a protruding boulder, to show him a tunnel opening that was wide and broad enough to walk into, “is the entrance to the portal.
“I was afraid that the Viathins would discover it and use it, which would bring more of the filthy monsters into my land, so I closed it over early in the invasion. A group of them came and examined it, but went no further before Decimindion developed his remedy for the problem,” she explained.
“If you wish, we can open it long enough for you to squeeze through, and be back in your own world once again,” she told him, as they walked into the cave and stood before a wall of stone.
“I would like that very much,” Kestrel said with emotion. In truth, he found that he was already comfortable with the wilderness goddess, and leaving her would leave a small void; in the short time they had traveled together he had found her to be a delightful figure. It did not occur to him that simply her ability to shift her shape to virtually resemble an elf, simply by possessing two legs and two arms and facial features he recognized, had warmed his heart to her more than it would ever warm to Tullamore, despite all the good that the round god had done.
“Stand right here, and place your hand on the wall,” Medeina instructed Kestrel. She stood right behind him, her body pressed up against his, and placed her hand on top of his, sandwiching his hand between hers and the wall. “Now, when you feel my power rush through your hand, contribute your own energy to it,” she told him.
He felt her body pressed against him, and then he felt her divine energy flow into his hand, and through it, into the cold stones he pressed against. The energy made his hand feel the texture of the stone, and then he added his own power to it, to help the energy react with the stone. He felt the two powers, her greater energy and his lesser energy, mingle as they began to interact with structure of the stone wall. The stone seemed to welcome the energy, as though it were a dry sponge absorbing water; and just like the rehydrating sponge, Kestrel was astonished by how the stone became pliable.
“These are special stones; I treated them to behave this way,” Medeina seemed to read his thoughts and understand his surprise.
His hand began to sink into the stone, and then the wall began to peel open, creating an orifice that was rounded. “Go through, now, quickly!” Medeina urged, as the stone they touched slid to the side.
Kestrel raised a knee and stepped into the darkness on the other side of the wall. Medeina’s fingers were still interwoven with his, pressing firmly against the stone, as he stepped his other foot into the newly exposed chamber.
“There! You are home,” she smiled triumphantly. “Good luck, my almost-divine friend. You know the secret of the wall; come back and visit me some day,” she told him. “Now, step back,” she commanded.
“Good bye, Medeina, and thank you,” Kestrel answered. Her fingers squeezed his tightly for just a moment, then she pulled her hand away, and the orifice snapped shut, sliding beneath Kestrel’s unprepared hand. The last thing he saw was Medeina’s visage, giving him a smile and a broad wink, and then they were separated, and he was in a different world.
Chapter 22
He was in his own world!
Kestrel was so stunned by the hasty parting with Medeina that it took a moment for the fact to register. He was somewhere within reach of the Inner Seas!
Within a few days or weeks he could see people he knew once again. Possibly within hours he could eat a meal of food he recognized and enjoyed once again. He could pray to gods he knew once again!
He raised his hand and set it aglow, using the more efficient means of power consumption that Krusima had shown him in the prison where he had set Krusima and Morph free. He found that the place he had passed into was not a natural place. There were stone walls whose stones were cut and set in place, and the floor was level. He cautiously walked forward, away from the blocked portal, and saw a staircase. With eager but cautious steps, he climbed up the stairs, and found that there were more stone walls and flooring in the structure.
Kestrel saw a faint glimmer down a hallway, and he cautiously walked towards it, then through a door, and he stopped to look around. He knew exactly where he was. Precisely. He’d been there before, and felt glad to be back. He looked up at the familiar star patterns in the night sky overhead, and saw the crescent moon that he knew so well.
“Thank you Medeina! Thank you!” he said out loud.
“Hello Mother Kere! I’m home!” he said that aloud as well.
Kestrel was back home, back in the Eastern Forest. He was even back in his own domain, in the Marches where he was lord, and held sway. He was in the little hamlet of Cedar Gully, the remote village of elves he had once visited to treat the victims of a plague. He had arrived through a portal that came out in the basement of a house that was purported to be haunted.
Life was too good to be true. He was only a few short hours away from seeing Putienne. And of course he would see Whyte and Remy and all the others in Oaktown as well. He’d be able to sleep in his own bed by the next night at the latest, and eat all the foods he craved. Within a week he could be done with checking on accounts at the manor, could have passed through Hydrotaz, and boarded a ship to take him to Uniontown to help Lark’s father, and to see the girl herself!
Happy beyond expression, Kestrel stepped off the porch of the haunted house, and began his journey home.
Watch for the continuation of Kestrel’s adventures, as he returns home to the Eastern Forest and encounters trouble he never expected to see.
Kestrel wasn’t sure which way to go when he reached the river. He made the decision to go left, and was rewarded when he spotted a trio of imps slowly flying in the same direction, pulling ropes attached to a collection of crude floating rafts upon the river.
“Hello imps!” he called ecstatically
Two of the imps dropped their ropes immediately, and darted towards him, spacing themselves apart to approach him from different angles. They drew knives as they took positions and hovered on either side of him.
“Who are you? What elf dares trespass in our kingdom?” the imp on his right spoke.
“An elf who is a friend and neighbor,” he replied immediately. “I am the Warden of the Marches in the Eastern Forest. My name is Kestrel; perhaps you’ve heard of me?” he said with false modesty, certain that his name must be known to all imps after his spectacular series of adventures with and on behalf of the imps.
The two small beings looked at him suspiciously.
“I set up the mushroom market in Oaktown,” he added in exasperation a few moments later.
“You were the one who did that?” the left imp said excitedly. “Can you get more? I didn’t get any mushrooms!”
“I got some,” the right imp said smugly.
“You always get the good things!” the left imp complained loudly.
“I hope we can set the market up again next season,” Kestr
el interrupted the brewing battle. “l know the king and queen would be happy to talk about that, if I could reach the court. Can you direct me in the right direction?” he asked.
“Follow us,” both imps simultaneously responded.
“Gladly,” Kestrel replied. “Will it take long?” he asked.
“Another few hours; we should arrive around sunset,” one of the imps said. “Will you be able to keep up?” he asked.
“I saw how slowly you were going,” Kestrel laughed. “The question is really whether you can keep up with me?”
He saw a look of set determination cross the imp’s face. “You won’t find us being the laggards!” the imp declared. He turned and zipped back to the center of the river, where he dove to the surface and plucked his abandoned rope out of the water. “Can you believe the cheek of that elf?” Kestrel heard the imp say in a low voice to his companion who had remained with the small barges. “We’ll show him who can and can’t keep up!”
And so began the journey that was really a race. The imps pulled their boats with great vigor, creating a rippled wake upon the river as they vigorously headed upstream towards Blackfriars. They generally found, to their disgust that Kestrel could easily leap from tree limb to tree limb with no problems, letting him outpace the imps. But when his riverbank route was interrupted by the mouth of some tributary stream, he would have to divert away from the river, allowing the imps to catch up with or pass him.
Two hours later, a short pier came into view on the river bank, and a horn sounded loudly. The pier was on the opposite side of the river from Kestrel, and the imps angled their barges towards the pier, chortling triumphantly.
“What a race!” Kestrel heard one of them say. “I’m glad we won; can you imagine the shame of losing to an elf?
“Elf slow one,” he turned and shouted across the river as the barges pulled up next to the docks, where a crew of elves tied them fast to the piers. “We appreciate your sporting ways; you made things interesting, though of course we won, as an imp might be expected to.”
An Unexpected Deity (Book 7) Page 30