The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 04 - A Foreign Heart

by Jeffrey Quyle

  He’d just have to come back someday to visit. It was another on the long list of somedays that he was amassing, the many things that he would do someday, when all his duties were done.

  “I like your people, Corrant,” he spoke in a whisper. “I hope they stay out of harm’s way.”

  “So do I, Kestrel. So do I,” he heard the god’s voice rumble from the stony ground beneath him, and then the darkness was silent.

  Chapter 11 – Through the Water Mountains

  Three weeks later Kestrel was floating down a broad river in the foothills that occupied the north side of the Water Mountains. His raft was crude; he had built it with vines and logs. It floated, but water flowed freely through it, and there was nothing about Kestrel or his belongings that was dry, to his dismay.

  He’d gotten over the spine of the Water Mountains. The journey had been a struggle – cold and thin-aired. His supplies were very low, and only a very stubborn streak of pride had prevented him from calling upon the imps to deliver food to him. He was determined to complete the journey in a totally independent manner, foraging off the land and fending off danger.

  There had been only one encounter that presented real danger, just a week before. He’d seen, and been spotted by a yeti while he’d been descending a spur of a mountain. He’d thought about battling the monster, which upon seeing him had snarled a challenge and started to stalk towards him. But the meat of the yeti was inedible, and he was too far from any city of men to be able to successfully sell the fruits of a yeti hunt, so he had simply turned to his elven foot speed and run to safety.

  Now he only had to listen to the sound of the river, and be prepared to avoid waterfalls and rapids while the river carried him towards the North Sea, hopefully towards someplace close to Narrow Bay.

  That city was the seat of a small republic of humans who lived mostly through fishing and trade, near the rough waters where the North Sea and the Great Sea collided. Regardless of anything else that might be in Narrow Bay, there was only one thing Kestrel hoped to find in the city, and that was a ride aboard a vessel bound for North Harbor, the human city that sat upon the same wide northern peninsula as the North Forest.

  At some point in his journey Kestrel knew he would have to think about how he was going to go about the task of finding out if there was a Moorin in the northern kingdom, a woman who was his destiny. He doubted that he would be able to just invite himself into the palace of the elven king and proclaim the reason for his visit. For that matter, he had only the false stories of the Viathin impostor to give him any reason to think that Moorin might be in the court. He might have just as much luck visiting the various farms of the nation, or the taverns even, he thought to himself despondently.

  In the meantime he had enough to keep him busy, as he sat on his raft and watched the water ahead. The raft was approaching a set of rapids, another set of rapids. He’d ridden the raft into four rocky, plunging, rough sets of rapids already during his time on the river. He’d learned how to best negotiate each encounter. There was no way to control the raft, no navigation possible to steer the crude collection of floating pieces. Kestrel had learned through trial and error how best to survive the rapids with a minimal loss of comfort and goods.

  He moved to the front of the raft, and precariously stood up to see what was ahead. The water seemed to pick up speed as the raft was naturally channeled toward the center of a long vee of smooth water, where the main channel of the river sought to extend its flow as smoothly and as far as possible. The vee reached a point where it grew rapidly narrower, as the rocks on either side of the raft drew closer, narrowing the vee of water and increasing the volume of the crashing noise around them.

  When the free flow of the water came to an end, and the raft approached its last few feet of unimpeded float, as a large rock reared directly ahead, so close that Kestrel could see the individual spots of lichen that grew in its crannies, and the water veered off to the side of the rock in a foaming fountain of violence, Kestrel leapt upward and forward. He departed from the raft; his right foot hit the top of the stone, and he propelled himself forward, landing on the water on the other side of the stone, and he began to run on top of the water. He saw a short chute of calm water, and he deviated to his right to reach it, then ran along its length, and came to a sandy bar. He ran atop the sand, startled a kingfisher, and then ran atop the water further.

  He looked back once and saw the raft was behind him, slowly making its way through the torturous, bruising water channels. After that glance he looked forward again as he picked out his own path. He worked his way along, through the snagged tree trunks, across the water, over the rocks and sand, and finally reached the pool at the end of the rapid, the place where the river felt satisfied with the drop in elevation it had achieved, and smoothed its path into a floatable channel once again. Kestrel headed to the shore, his legs tired from the journey, glad to have the opportunity to rest and wait for the raft to catch up.

  I’ve never seen anyone running on the water to come down through the rapids, but then I’ve never seen anyone come down the river from the mountains at all,” a voice laconically spoke behind him, and Kestrel whirled to see an old man, a human, holding a fishing pole, a net, and a tackle box, standing atop a very small sandy bluff just behind him, shaded by the overhanging trees.

  “So what are you?” the man asked.

  Kestrel studied the man’s face for a moment. His eyes were surrounded by wrinkles and creases, and on his forehead there was a dark age spot just visible under the straw hat he wore. His arms were thin; he wore a shirt without sleeves, and the flesh hung loosely from his thin arms. But his mouth and his eyes both displayed a warmth that Kestrel could sense was genuine.

  “I’m glad to be alive,” Kestrel said.

  “You’re pretty wise for such a young fellow,” the man on the bank told him.

  “I’m an elf, or mostly elf,” Kestrel gave a fuller answer.

  “I’ve never seen an elf before; I didn’t know whether you were an elf or a gnome. I thought gnomes lived in the mountains, not elves, but I’ve never seen either,” the man said. He lowered the fishing pole down the bank, then gingerly lowered his foot to take the long step down. “Can all elves do that, run on top of the water?” the man asked.

  Kestrel stuck out a hand to steady the man as he appeared to lose his balance momentarily, but the fellow caught himself without assistance.

  “Thanks anyway,” the man told Kestrel.

  “All elves can run on top of the water. We’ve got lighter bones than humans, and we run pretty fast,” Kestrel finally answered his question.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” the man asked.

  “I’ve been traveling through the mountains on my way to Narrow Bay,” Kestrel explained.

  “You’re not too far. It’s about two days to get to the city,” the man said as he opened his tackle box and began to prepare his line. He tied a hook on the line and put a piece of bacon on it. “Well, about two days for me. If you run as fast as I saw, you’ll be there in a day or so.

  “There goes your raft,” the man motioned to the river, where Kestrel’s vessel shot out of the rapids and slowed as it entered the calmer waters.

  “Are there roads to get to Narrow Bay?” Kestrel asked, looking at the raft and thinking about the prospect of staying dry.

  “Sure there are; did you think we flew there?” his new acquaintance asked as he cast his line into the water. He seemed to have picked the perfect spot. Kestrel saw the fishing pole give a small jerk immediately, and the man pulled in on the line with a quick snap of his wrist, then started to pull the line in hand over fist, and brought a nice plump trout to the shore line. Within seconds he had the trout in his net in the river, and was baiting his hook again.

  “You know, I’ve been wet for days now on that raft. I may just walk the rest of the way into the city and get dry for a happy change,” Kestrel said. “Which way is it to th
e road?”

  The man cast his line into the water again. “If you can hold your horses for a couple of minutes, I’ll lead you back to the road. I’m going to head home soon.”

  “You don’t have to stop fishing on my account,” Kestrel protested. “Just give me directions and I’ll be on my way.

  The fisherman snapped his wrists to set the hook in the mouth of his next victim, then started to pull the string into shore. “I’m done fishing,” he said as he lifted the second trout in to his net. He removed the hook and put it in the tackle box, then handed the box to Kestrel and picked up his catch and his pole.

  “Come along this way,” the man said as he turned and started to walk away from the river bank.

  “Do you like fish?” he asked Kestrel as they walked through the forest.

  “Sure,” Kestrel answered.

  “Good. I caught this second fish for you. You can stay and have dinner with us. My son’s family is going to eat pork tonight. I don’t like it, so I came to catch a fish for my own dinner. My daughter-in-law can cook two fish just as easily as one,” the man told Kestrel.

  They stepped onto a wide game path, and the man turned to the left. Kestrel followed him as they walked in single file silence for several minutes, Kestrel wondering whether he should accept the man’s offer of hospitality or simply continue on his way. The sun was halfway down in the western sky; there would still be hours of travel time available in the waning summer evening if he decided to move on.

  Just then Kestrel saw bright sunlight falling unimpeded to the ground up ahead, and he saw that the game trail was going to brush past an opening in the forest. When they reached the opening the old man turned in, and Kestrel saw that there was a large wooden cabin, and a handful of outbuildings standing around the clearing.

  “Welcome home,” the man turned and spoke to Kestrel. “You wait out here while I go tell Kristen we’ll have a guest for dinner,” he advised.

  The man left Kestrel and carried the two fish inside. Kestrel waited politely for moments, then heard the indistinct words of a loud and animated conversation taking place. Moments later the door of the home burst open, and a haggard-looking woman looked out defiantly into the yard, staring hard at Kestrel. The door slammed shut, and Kestrel heard the woman’s voice speak loudly.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that before. How do we know it’s safe to eat with him? I don’t want him in my house!” the woman’s voice sounded clearly.

  The setting reminded Kestrel of the first humans he had seen, the night he had fought a yeti at Merilla’s pioneer homestead in the forest wilderness outside of Estone. The attitude was different though; he couldn’t imagine that Merilla would have been so ungracious to a stranger who came to visit, though he hadn’t truly known her in those times.

  “Hey! Hello the house,” he called loudly.

  After a moment the door swung open, and the old man looked out. “I’m going to move on,” Kestrel wanted an end to the painful scene. “Do I just go north on this trail?” he motioned.

  The man left the house, and left the door wide open, as he came walking towards Kestrel as fast as he could manage. “This isn’t right! You should have some hospitality. That woman: what my son sees in her I’ll never understand,” he said.

  “Here,” Kestrel felt moved by the man’s efforts to be kind. He removed his skin of healing water, and opened the cork. “Have a drink of this; it’s good for whatever ails you; it’ll cure anything.”

  The man looked at the water skin, then took a drink. “I ought to give some to my granddaughter, if it’s what you say it is,” he said as he handed the skin back to Kestrel.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” Kestrel asked.

  “She’s got a wasting sickness. Been getting weaker and weaker for about a month now. She’s only nine. That’s why Kristen’s so prickly; she wanted to have a daughter after having two boys, and now the girl’s dying a little every day,” the grandfather explained. “It’s eating her soul right out.”

  “Let me see the girl,” Kestrel spoke authoritatively.

  “Why? Are you a doctor?” the man’s eyes explored Kestrel face with a mixed expression of doubt and hope.

  “No, but maybe I can help her anyway,” Kestrel answered. He started to walk towards the open door.

  “What’s going on here?” Kristen suddenly stood in the doorway as Kestrel approached. “I thought I made myself clear.”

  “I’m here to see your daughter,” Kestrel said. “Please stand aside.”

  “What? Why? Who are you? Are you the dark one’s retriever? Have you come to take her already?” the woman’s spirit suddenly collapsed, but Kestrel paid no attention as he strode past her into the dim interior of the cabin. He paused momentarily to let his eyes adjust, and spotted a crude rack of bunks against the back wall, where a huddled mass of blankets and flesh quivered slightly with signs of life.

  Kestrel walked over to the girl and pulled back a blanket to look at her. Her limbs were curled in uncomfortable poses, rigid and unmovable, it seemed, while her jaw drooped slackly open, and he heard the labored breathing that her chest struggled to achieve.

  Kestrel bent and picked the girl up. She was incredibly thin, so sadly light in weight that he almost wept as he felt her in his arms. “Stillwater, Stillwater, Stillwater,” he called quietly.

  “I’ll take her tonight and bring her back tomorrow,” Kestrel told the mother and grandfather. “We’re going to a spring with healing water, and you’ll be pleased when she’s back,” he told them.

  Stillwater, Killcen, Canyon, and Odare suddenly appeared, and the mother screamed loudly.

  “Kestrel friend! We had heard naught from you in so long; it’s good to see you again,” Stillwater greeted the elf.

  “Hello my friends,” Kestrel spoke affectionately. “This young one needs to visit the healing spring. Would you take us there?”

  The imps immediately circled around Kestrel, and the small group disappeared from the cabin. After the short, transitory unpleasantness, they arrived at the spring. The girl’s eyes were open now, and staring at Kestrel. He gently laid her on the grass and undressed her, then laid her in the water in the same shallow bay that he rested the imps in.

  “Would you go fetch some food so that we can have a bite to eat?” Kestrel asked. “Then I’ll put you all in the water for the night,” he promised. Odare and Canyon both immediately disappeared.

  “What have you been doing friend Kestrel?” Stillwater asked.

  “I’ve been traveling, and thinking,” Kestrel answered. “I’ve had some time to just let my heart and my soul work out who I am and who I belong with.”

  “What did your heart decide?” Killcen asked curiously.

  “There is no decision yet,” Kestrel said. “But there are some things I know I don’t have to think about,” he told the pair of imps.

  The other two returned, their arms full of fruits, which they unloaded onto the grass. All four sprites immediately began to undress, and Kestrel swung each one into the water and watched them each pass out. The girl’s eyes were following him, he realized as he started to remove his own clothes, and he stopped momentarily, caught in indecision.

  “These are imps,” Kestrel realized he needed to explain to the girl what was happening. “My name is Kestrel, and I’m an elf. This is a spring where the water is magical; it makes people feel better.

  “Can you feel the water around your body?” he asked, but saw no answer or sign of recognition. “I asked the imps to carry us here so that we could put you in this spring water. I think it will make you healthier,” he told her. While he was confident that the spring water would help, he didn’t want to over-promise. “We’ll see how well it does for you; I’d like for you to soak in it overnight.

  “The imps are different,” he told her, as he motioned to the small bodies around her. “The water makes them fall asleep, and then they have lots of lovely dreams, they say.

  “So we’ll all spend
the night here, we’ll see how you feel in the morning, and then the imps will take us back to your home,” He finished his explanation. He looked at the fruit the imps had brought, and wondered if there was a way to feed any to the girl. He decided that he would wait a little while, to let the water start to produce some improvement in her condition, then try to at least squeeze some juice into her mouth, if not give her small pieces he could cut off the pears and apples.

  He ate an apple as he sat with his pants still on and his feet dangling in the water, and he noted that the sun was considerably lower in the sky. He thought about the times he had come to the spring with others, and had talked, so often with Alicia, and the other times he had come with only the imps and sprites, and let them sleep in the water while he served as guardian. Now he was guardian to the imps and to a girl who was not asleep, but not able to talk. Kestrel waded into the water and started to ladle water upon the girl’s head, cupping his hands to lift the liquid and then letting it run into her hair, soaking her scalp that remained out of the water. She smiled slightly he noted, her mouth drawing closed and her lips making a momentary curve.

  “You liked that, didn’t you?” he asked. “It feels good, and you’re starting to feel better perhaps. Good – now you just rest, just rest and go to sleep.”

  He returned to the shore and dangled his feet some more and sat silently. After the sun went down he waded back into the water and looked at the girl. Her eyes were closed, and she silently breathed in a way that seemed restful.

  Satisfied that the situation was calm, Kestrel removed the rest of his clothes then dove into the deeper water and swam up to the end of the spring pool, where the water temperature was almost too warm to withstand. He flipped and returned to his usual spot among the rocks at the side of the pool, a spot where the water was warm but bearable, and leaned back into the nook he thought of as his own special spot in the water. And he fell asleep. When he awoke in the morning the sun was halfway above the horizon, and the trees around the spring seemed to glow with a vibrant yellow-colored light.