The Healing Spring tisk-1

by Jeffrey Quyle

  What would he do if Kai tried to compel him to fight against the Elves? Would he argue the reasons not to? Would he refuse, and be struck down? Would he ask for a different champion to be chosen? He had no idea what choice he would make, even up to deciding to fight for the humans.

  As he turned the corner, he saw the bright sign above the door to Merilla’s family business, and he knew that he was only minutes away from parting ways with her. It would be the hardest moment of the whole adventure, even harder than saying farewell to Artur, for Kestrel had no choice in that matter, whereas now he was setting his own path away from this special human woman, compelled only by his own internal confusion and need to find answers.

  At the door to the shop he paused to unload one of his skins of healing water, then carried it in his hand as he entered the shop.

  “Is Merilla at hand?” he asked a man at the counter.

  “She’s not here at the moment,” the slender, stooped man replied pleasantly.

  “Are you her father?” Kestrel asked.

  “I am. Daley is my name; and who are you?” he asked.

  “My name is Kestrel. I traveled through the wilderness with your daughter,” Kestrel explained.

  “Of course, of course,” Daley replied. “We appreciate your kindness towards our daughter and grandsons. We thought we lost her years ago, and never knew we had them until you brought them back to civilization.

  “They’re over at the other home, the one that Merilla thinks will be hers, with a few friends,” he told Kestrel. “I’ve got to stay here and mind the store, of course, and I’m not sure that I don’t mind missing all the hens talking among themselves,” he winked. “You go on over and see Merilla; she’s be so happy to see you again,” he directed, as the shop door opened with the arrival of a customer.

  Kestrel left the shop and stepped around the corner, then entered the empty leather shop and let himself upstairs. He opened the door, and found himself under the scrutiny of Merilla and her mother, as well as Hammon the leather monger, and five other women as well.

  The room was silent as Kestrel stood in the doorway, confused by the crowd, when he only wanted a private conversation with Merilla.

  “Well young man, weren’t you somewhere around the palace yesterday? What do you think of these preposterous stories about what happened there?” Merilla’s mother broke the ice.

  Kestel looked around at the faces that seemed closed in universal disapproval, except for Merilla’s own, which looked at him with a sad and sympathetic smile.

  “Rumor rarely gets the story right,” Kestrel answered after a moment to consider. He didn’t want to get into an argument, and he certainly didn’t want to try to convince anyone that a powerful deity had materialized on earth and touched him.

  “That’s the truth!” Durille exclaimed. “I told you there was only a simple little storm, all blown out of proportion,” she turned to her daughter in triumph.

  Kestrel felt a surge of sympathy for Merilla, who appeared to be bound to live a life of constant bombardment by her overbearing mother.

  “Merilla’s entitled to believe whatever she wants though,” he spoke up. “Any woman who lives through the wilderness and survives a yeti attack has earned the right to more respect than those who sit safely inside the city,” he impulsively started speaking before he knew what he would end up saying, wanting to defend his friend.

  The room was silent once again. “Thank you Kestrel,” Merilla said after the silence stretched out. “It’s good to see you. This is my aunt,” she introduced one older woman, “and this is Hammon’s mother, Mourene, my mother’s special friend.

  “There are my cousins, and this is Hammon’s sister,” she gestured to a cluster of younger women on the other side of the room.

  “Nice to meet you all,” Kestrel said to the room at large. “Merilla, may I speak with you for a moment?” he asked. “Apart?”

  “Let’s go upstairs,” she suggested. “Excuse us, we’ll be right back,” she moved apart from the others and Kestrel followed, as they left the room to climb the steps up to the top floor.

  “And so this is it?” she asked.

  “Here,” he handed her the five golds. “I put the rest of your money in your bank; you earned fifty more golds altogether from the auction.”

  “Fifty? Oh Kestrel, I can’t spend that much in a lifetime! You have to take some of it, I insist,” she said.

  “And here’s a skin of the healing water from the spring in the Eastern Forest. Use it for yourself and the boys. I want to imagine that you’re always healthy and without pain,” he pressed the skin into her hands, letting his fingers grasp and hold hers as she accepted the gift.

  “Merilla, if I knew anything about my future, I’d take you with me right now, regardless of what Kai wants,” he told her.

  “I’ll go with you whether you know where you’re going or not, if you want me to Kestrel,” she answered as they looked at each other.

  He bent his head down and kissed her, their lips parted and the kiss a deep one, filled with the longing they felt for each other. Kestrel heard a heavy tread on the stairs, and reluctantly raised his head. Hammon bashfully entered the room. “Durille sent me upstairs to make sure you’re okay. I’ll go back down and let them know you are,” he said as he turned and departed quickly.

  “I don’t mind being human because of you,” Kestrel told her. “I think I’ll be back someday; I don’t know if it will be sooner or later.

  “But I’ll come see you when I return, I swear,” he told her.

  “Unless it’s soon, I’ll be engaged, Kestrel, maybe even married. The mothers have it plotted,” she answered.

  He kissed her again, a chaste kiss this time. “I’ll see you every time I pass through Estone, if I ever return,” he vowed.

  “Let’s go downstairs,” Merilla said, releasing one hand, but still holding his with her other as they walked back down to join the others, who ceased their whispering upon the couple’s arrival.

  “Kestrel has to leave Estone, he’s told me,” Merilla said. “And I’ve told him that if he ever comes back, I’ll have a place for him to stay. Good bye, Kestrel,” she told him directly, then embraced him in a hug that encompassed all the gear on his back, and inadvertently pressed against his burnt skin.

  “I’m sorry!” she exclaimed as he sharply sucked in his breath.

  Kestrel looked around at the others, then looked at Merilla and gave a wistful smile. He felt his eyes starting to well up, and turned. Moments later he had rushed down the stairs and out onto the street. He tore the dirty white bandage off of his head, and stood outside the leather shop frozen in place by a welter of confusing emotions.

  He had to leave her behind. He knew it, though he hated the knowledge. He was going to start on a journey back towards Firheng, and he didn’t know if he would reach the city, or turn aside somewhere in confusion, but he wasn’t going anywhere he felt certain he could take Merilla, let alone her two boys. Pulling the bandage off not only felt good, but it showed the world of Estone that his ears were elven ears, and it reminded him as well.

  Kestrel turned and looked at his reflection in the window of the leather shop, and he saw that his ears were unmistakably growing their pointed shapes again, and his eyebrows were beginning to climb back to the home nature had made for them. Despite all the humanity that had been thrust upon him, he still had traces of Elfishness in his blood and body. With that blunt reminder, he threw the bandage into a nearby trash receptacle, and began to walk back to the Eastern Forest.

  Chapter 23 — The Road to Elfdom

  Three days later, he nearly lost his life. Estone was closer to Firheng than it was to the wilderness where Kestrel had encountered the yeti. Despite the fact that Kestrel dawdled along the way, in no hurry to face decisions within and about Elven culture, the journey from Estone to Firheng was less than a week in length. After two days of walking along the southern road from the capital, Kestrel had entered an unset
tled land, where few farms or ranches existed, but occasional bands of thieves preyed upon travelers who journeyed without sufficient security.

  He traveled slowly as he thought and rethought the question of leaving Merilla in his past. He considered turning around to go back and fetch her with him, and he considered going back to move in with her in Estone. His restless spirit would settle on neither approach as best for her though, so he continued to head back to his elven roots.

  Then an arrow struck him in the chest. The arrow was shot with the strength of a human and it hit his left breast with considerable force. The impact of the shot was tremendous, causing him to abruptly stagger backwards two steps, creating enormous pain. He was stunned by the pain he felt, and uncertain what had happened until he looked down and saw the shaft lying on the dusty road before him, and he saw a small tear in the fabric of his shirt, where the arrow had struck him. The goddess’s crest upon his chest had stopped the arrow from penetrating his skin. He had suffered all the force of the blow, but had not received the intended fatal injury.

  There was movement in the forest ahead of him, and whispered comments from whoever had intended to slay him. Recovering himself, Kestrel ran to the side of the road and stood behind a tree, as a second arrow shot forth and narrowly missed him.

  Kestrel shrugged off his pack and pulled his own bow loose as he scanned the area before him. He drew an arrow of his own, looked in the direction he thought the two arrows had come from, and saw two figures lurking behind a bush. There was the sound of others crashing through the woods nearby as well, but he wanted first to return the injury that had been intended for him. He released one arrow, counting on the bush to provide no useful protection, reached for a second arrow, and took aim again. There was a scream, as his first arrow reached its target, and he released the second arrow. He dropped the bow and slid over to the next tree, switching positions to move slightly further from the road, as he drew his sword and concentrated on the sounds of others in the forest approaching him, at least three, he judged.

  He caught sight of a trio coming through the bushes, spreading out as they approached, then he whirled and raised his sword in desperate defense as another of his unknown assailants surprised him with a stealthy approach. He blocked the first murderous swing of his opponent’s blade, then stepped away from the tree that he had been fruitlessly hiding behind.

  “Over here!” the small man fighting him shouted. “Help!”

  Kestrel went on the attack, trying to defeat the thief who had apparently only planned to ambush and kill him. The man wasn’t handy with a blade, and the failure of his first attack now left him vulnerable to Kestrel’s counter attack. Kestrel swung his sword low and nearly cut his opponent’s leg, then swung high, but fouled his blade in a low-hanging tree branch just before he could deliver a deadly blow.

  The sounds of the other members of the band grew closer, and Kestrel knew he only had moments to win before he would be terribly outnumbered.

  “Why did you attack me?” he asked as he thrust his blade hard at the man’s midsection. His attack was successful, so strongly pressed that the other fighter could not deflect it away, and Kestrel’s blade sank into his stomach. It was the first time Kestrel had every actually stabbed another person in the anger of battle, other than in the battle with the yeti, and the feel of his blade entering flesh repulsed him.

  He pulled the sword free as he saw a kind of pleading expression in his opponent’s eyes, just before the man folded and fell to the ground. Kestrel quickly turned and judged that his next battle would begin in a few seconds, so he angled back towards the road, trying to isolate one of the three remaining attackers for his next battle.

  The man at that end of the line was a large man, one who was taller and heavier and stronger than Kestrel, and just as good a swordsman too. Kestrel blocked and swung and blocked and stabbed while gaining no advantage, as the other two fighters came circling around to adjust to his new location. One was a woman, and one was another man, of about Kestrel’s own size, but he had no chance against the three of them, he knew.

  The other two swords began to enter the fray and Kestrel stepped next to a tree to use it as an impromptu shield for a moment, then managed to land a slicing blow on the woman’s arm before he blocked a wild swing the largest man aimed at his head. Just blocking the force of the powerful shot pushed Kestrel against the tree he was utilizing, and momentarily disabled him. The smaller of the two men took advantage of his vulnerability and thrust a stab directly at Kestrel’s unprotected chest.

  Just as it had protected him from the first arrow, the divine insignia on Kestrel’s chest blunted the stab, preventing the blade from penetrating. Kestrel grunted loudly, then swung his sword upward, slicing deeply into the man’s arm, causing him to cry aloud in pain as he dropped his sword.

  The second man was disabled, the woman was lightly wounded and skittish about taking further injury, but the large man was unhurt and undeterred. “How do you do that? Do you have some special armor beneath your shirt?” he asked, just as he tried to slice at Kestrel’s thigh.

  Kestrel danced around the tree to protect himself, and poked his sword from the other side, almost striking flesh. “The goddess protects me,” he grunted in reply. He broke off the engagement and ran back to where he had left his pack and bow on the ground. With only seconds of a lead over the man behind him, he knelt and grabbed his staff off of the pack, then raised one end to block a sword blow from his arriving opponent. He pivoted the staff and poked its end into the knee of the large man, then stood.

  With the staff securely held in both hands, Kestrel went on the attack, using both ends to land blows on the big man, while blocking every swing of the sword with ease, his staff becoming nicked and hacked but remaining sturdy. Kestrel whacked the wooden staff hard on the other man’s knee, striking a nerve that made him involuntarily bow, and bringing his temple into range of a telling blow that knocked the man dizzy. Kestrel followed with a blow to the top of the head, a stiff prod to the midsection, and then a strike to the throat that left the man on the ground.

  Kestrel stood wearily, looking about. The woman was the only one standing, watching him warily from behind a tree. “Are we done here?” Kestrel shouted at her.

  She ducked behind the tree. “Go on,” she shouted. “Go on and leave us be.”

  Kestrel sheathed his sword, then strapped his staff to his pack again, and swung the pack over his shoulder. He picked up his bow, and placed it over his left shoulder, where the goddess’s hand print had healed after days of treatment with the water from the healing spring. Satisfied that he had all his belongings, but shaken by the suddenness and pointlessness of the fruitless violence, he returned to the road and began raising a dusty cloud as he hurried south, seeking to put space between himself and the scene of the deadly encounter.

  It was probably the next day that he crossed the unmarked border between the humans of Estone and the elves of the Eastern Forest. He slept in trees in the elven manner for the next two nights, and around noon, on the fifth day of his journey from Estone, he re-entered the gates of Firheng.

  Chapter 24 — Return to Firheng

  Belinda was not behind her desk when Kestrel walked into her office. “Gion, is the commander in?” Kestrel stuck his head out into the hall to ask the guard on duty.

  “He’s down at the armory,” Gion answered. “Go on down and give him a challenge, why don’t you?” the guard grinned. “Welcome back, yeti-killer.”

  “I’m going to leave my things here,” Kestrel replied, piling his goods in a corner.

  “What, don’t you think you want to stay with us a while? Go ahead up to your room and put your things away,” Gion replied.

  “I’m pretty sure they’re going to send me back to Center Trunk. I just don’t know if it will be immediately or delayed,” Kestrel protested. “If I get to stay here, I’ll go to my room.”

  With that he wandered back to the armory where Arlen and Casimo
were both engaged in matches, along with a half dozen others. Kestrel stood in the doorway and watched the activity as guards practiced swords along with as staffs and hand-to-hand techniques as well. He hoped he’d have a chance to stay at Firheng for a few days and practice his skills, living simply for the engagements without worries about surgeries or assignments or loyalties or deities.

  “All welcome the great combatant!” Arlen shouted, and heads turned to look at Kestrel. Both Arlen and Casimo dismissed their opponents, and walked over to shake his hand and heartily welcome him back to Firheng.

  “You took your time returning, it seems,” Casimo commented. “Did anything interesting happen?”

  “He had a long journey from where we were all the way to Estone city, especially considering he had to play papa to a widow and at least a couple of babies,” Arlen spoke up defensively. “Did everything go well? Did you find Castona? Was he a help?”

  “I did find Castona, and he was a big help. There were complications at times, but Castona knew how to deal with everything,” Kestrel answered. “I owe him thanks for his help.”

  “And did you get the widow settled in? Were the kids a handful?” Arlen asked.

  “They’re great kids. They handled the journey well; they handled the city pretty well. Merilla’s from Estone, she has returned to her parents, and with the money Castona got for the yeti items, I think she’ll be set,” Kestrel sighed.

  “How did you feel in the city, around all those humans? How was your accent?” Casimo jumped in. “Your ears look like they never were treated? What did you do to them?”

  “I think my accent is fine; Castona said I sounded like I came from some of the southern cities. He said I wouldn’t have any problems, and no one else said anything at all,” Kestrel answered. He paused, as he wondered how much more to say about all that had taken place, the things that were unbelievable and the things that were intensely personal.

  “On the way back to Firheng I was ambushed by thieves; at least I assume they meant to be thieves. I used my bow, my sword, and my staff to escape,” he began with the easiest matter.