The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 01 - The Healing Spring

by Jeffrey Quyle

  Crozanna giggled. “Would you like to see Cheryl?” she asked mischievously.

  “If she has time,” Kestrel tried to answer politely.

  “Let’s go see. Come on in,” the young sister spoke, throwing the door wide open, and ushering Kestrel into the house. He’d been a visitor on numerous occasions before, enough that Crozanna felt comfortable casually providing entry to him. She led him right, along a hall, towards a parlor he had shared with Cheryl many time before on visits.

  When he rounded the corner, he saw Cheryl sitting in her usual easy chair, looking placid and beautiful as ever, then his vision encompassed the rest of the room, and he saw Malsten, the son of the dry goods store owner, sitting on the opposite chair where he had expected to sit.

  “Kestrel’s here to see you Cheryl,” Crozanna chirped brightly, apparently enjoying the opportunity to be an agent of chaos by bringing two suitors together to visit with her sister at the same time.

  Malsten scowled deeply as Cheryl popped up from her chair, a look of concern and pleasure on her face. “Oh Kestrel, it’s so good to see you,” she spoke warmly. “Are you going to be okay? What did the doctor say? How were you injured?”

  “He fell in the mud,” Crozanna volunteered brightly.

  Malsten let out a muffled laugh. “You can go now Crozanna,” Cheryl directed, with a hint of steel in her meaningful glance.

  “Please come in and sit down,” Cheryl told Kestrel, who remained standing in the doorway, wishing there was a way to escape from the uncomfortable scene. “Tell us what happened,” she added, as her fingers gently brushed his hand when he passed her to take the proffered seat.

  He smiled a warm smile to her, touched by the kind gesture

  “What happened yesterday Kestrel?” Cheryl asked again.

  “There was a big fire in the forest, but the rains came along and put it out,” the elf guard replied. He was not going to make any mention of the human deities involved, not in front of Malsten.

  “Those rains must have been something; we had flooding so bad the water got up into a couple of dozen homes. My dad was selling every mop and bucket he had, plus a whole bunch of other stuff to folks who have to clean up their homes,” Malsten announced, proud of the business success his family had enjoyed as a result of the misfortune of others.

  “How is your arm? What did the doctor say?” Cheryl pretended not to hear Malsten.

  “It’s broken. He reset the bones last night. Everything should be fine in just a few days,” Kestrel answered. “I reported the fire to your father this morning. He said there’s a patrol looking at the fire location this morning, so there may be more news about it this afternoon,” he told the girl, even though he knew the topic would be of little interest to her. He wanted to talk to her about the human goddess, about Kai, and the direct communication he had with the omnipotent being; he wanted to hear her thoughts, but Malsten’s presence stifled any such conversation.

  Just then Cheryl’s mother appeared in the doorway. “Well, hello Kestrel,” she said in a kindly voice. “We’re just about to have lunch. Let me add a plate for you,” she told him.

  “No, I can’t stay. I just wanted to stop by to let Cheryl know my arm will be fine. I need to go,” he said as he stood, unwilling to spend time sharing Cheryl’s company with another suitor. “I thought I’d go see if I could help any of the flood victims clean up their homes,” he shot a deadly glance at Malsten as he spoke, but the merchant seemed oblivious to any sense of shame.

  “Well, that’s a very nice idea! Don’t strain your arm now. You need to heal,” Cheryl’s mom sounded just like a mom as she counseled him. “Malsten, let me walk you to the meal table, and Cheryl you can see Kestrel to the door,” she directed, giving Kestrel the satisfaction of seeing Malsten shoot a deadly glance back at him.

  Cheryl and he walked silently to the door, and stepped out onto the porch. “Mother’s right, you need to be careful with that arm,” Cheryl instructed him as she shut the door behind him. She stood very close, and her hand reached out shyly to hold his. “Malsten just arrived a few minutes before you did,” she apologized. “I didn’t know you were going to come over this morning.”

  “It’s not a problem. I just wanted to see you,” he fibbed, “so I got what I wanted. I’ll be around town for a few days while I heal, so I’ll see you soon. I want to talk,” he told her earnestly, squeezing her hand, then releasing it. “Go enjoy your lunch, and maybe Malsten will sell you something for a discount,” he kidded.

  “Be nice,” Cheryl chided him, but the sparkle in her eyes was one of laughter, and Kestrel remembered her smile as he turned and walked down the steps to return to the street.

  Chapter 6 – Confirmation

  Kestrel did go to try to help a family that had been flooded out by his rainstorms, but everyone soon agreed that his one-armed status limited his utility. After a couple of hours carrying small items around as needed, Kestrel left the flood victims, and went back into town to the military base, where he waited for the return of the patrol from the red stag woods sector.

  During the mid-afternoon the two elf patrol entered the gates of the base, and Kestrel followed them into the commander’s building and office without interference.

  Mastrin had a different aide accompanying him, Kestrel noticed as he entered a small conference room, one that was adjacent to the office he had spoken in earlier in the day. “Welcome back, guardsman,” Mastrin acknowledged him, then turned to the patrol members, two senior and reliable members of the guard based in Elmheng. “Tell us what you found, if anything,” the commander ordered.

  “Well, we found quite a mess,” one of the two elves offered. “The rain up there must have been extraordinary, as if we didn’t know that from the way the streams ran. The mud was something to trek through. There was a fire, and it burnt a good size opening in the forest. It must have been pretty hot; even the biggest trees don’t have any standing trunks left except around the edges of the fire. Things must have been burning along pretty dangerously until those rains put the fire out, thanks be to the spirits.”

  Mastrin looked at Kestrel, but said nothing.

  “Was there any clue as to how it started?” he asked.

  The second guard spoke up. “Not direct evidence, maybe, but we found three metal rods, and a large metal kettle, all made from the blood metal, iron. They’d gotten so hot in the fire they were all deformed – bent and curled. That had to be man work,” he asserted.

  Mastrin nodded his head. “That seems right.”

  “And we saw some movements in the fringe of the woods on the far side when we first stepped into the opening,” the guard added. “It may have been men. We shouldn’t have shown ourselves so openly, I realize, but we just weren’t expecting men to be inside the forest that far.”

  Mastrin nodded again, thoughtfully.

  Kestrel,” he looked at the young guard, “I’d say your suspicion was right. The battle down south was just a diversion, designed to empty all of our forces out of the northern border so that the humans could sneak in and start the fire. If it hadn’t been for those rains, we might have lost a fairly big chunk of woodlands.

  “Alright men, thank you for the report. You’re dismissed. Kestrel, stay for a moment,” the commander set folks in motion, and waited until the door was closed before he spoke again.

  “So you called the human goddess to help you foil a plan of the humans; is that how it seems to you?” he asked quizzically, studying Kestrel closely.

  The young elf sat silently for several seconds, trying to find some alternative, some explanation that didn’t sound so preposterous. Nothing came to mind.

  “Yes sir,” he said reluctantly.

  “Whatever that goddess intends to get from you is going to be a memorable repayment for a favor like that. I hope you’re ready when the bill comes,” the commander said softly. “You’re dismissed. Come back and report to me tomorrow after lunch.” He set Kestrel free, and left the room hims
elf, his aide trailing behind him, leaving the small conference room empty in the afternoon sunlight that filtered into the room through the tree leaves outside the window.

  Chapter 7 – Ferris’s Report

  Ferris was rehearsing the report he was going to deliver to his commander, and focused on steeling himself for the abusive response he was sure to suffer. His squad had done everything perfectly to set fire in the forest; they’d known their assignments, and had carried them out flawlessly, without the loss of or injury to a single man – something he was especially proud of.

  They’d exited the forest safely, and marched rapidly away from the woodlands for over an hour; Ferris didn’t feel easy being near the forest, and the presence of the fire only heightened his nagging sense of discomfort. Then they had stopped and turned to watch the results of their handiwork.

  And they’d seen a deluge materialize from an empty sky shortly after they’d begun to celebrate the ominous pillar of smoke that began to rise from forest. The rainstorm had been unnatural. It had been very specific in its location – as close as they were, Ferris and his men had only felt a few stray drops of the rain. The storm had been uncanny in its character – the water that had fallen had been so dense and heavy in the air that from a distance, the area beneath the clouds had appeared to be a solid column. Steam had risen in copious amounts as the waters had struck the flames and the embers beneath.

  The squad stood and watched the half hour of furious down-pouring, and then the abrupt dissipation of the storm; in a matter of moments the rains ceased and the clouds dissipated. “Who made the goddess so mad?” someone in the squad has asked of no one, using a stage whisper that rattled everyone as they all acknowledged the obvious supernatural origin of the phenomena they had witnessed.

  Ferris had debated what to do, and decided to stay the night as he pondered his course of action – a return to the forest, a return to the capital, or a return to the Forest Wardens. The next morning he detailed two men to go back into the forest, to follow the tree blazes back to the site of the fire, and to bring back a report on what they found.

  The men were gone less than three hours, and came running out of the woods like a yeti was in pursuit. Their report was deflating; the fire was out, extinguished thoroughly by the deluge from the sky before it did more than burn a small hole in the forest, and the elves were already at the site as well. It was the sight of the elves exploring the charred ruins of the trees that had sent the two scouts fleeing in panic, running at full throttle the entire distance back to the squad.

  Ferris had idly entertained the thought of trying to restart the fire, if the iron bars and kettle could be found among the ashes, hopeful that perhaps some success could have been attained, but the presence of elves dashed those hopes thoroughly. The elves would be more than angry at the attempt to burn their forest; Ferris was thankful that his two scouts had returned alive and uninjured. He made his decision – to take his squad back to the capital city and report to his commanders there, as a way to avoid letting the Forest Wardens potentially order him to immediately return and commit suicide by attempting to start another fire.

  So his men ambled south along dusty country lanes, and Ferris fretted over the consequences of the failed assignment when they reached the gates of Hydrotaz, the capital city, early two evenings later. “You’re dismissed to quarters. Report to the practice yard at third bugle call tomorrow morning, and don’t get thrown in jail,” he had released his men from their labors, then gone on to the office tower where he wrote out his report carefully, and submitted it to the evening watchman, with a pledge to return first thing the following morning for a report in person.

  Chapter 8 – Messenger Duty

  Kestrel reported to his commander early the next afternoon.

  “Here is a report,” Mastrin told him, handing him a sealed wooden tube that presumably held papers. “You are going to be the courier for this; I’d like you to take it to Center Trunk,” he told Kestrel, referring to the far-off capital of the eastern elves. Kestrel had never ventured more than a few miles from Elmheng in his life, making the prospect of such a journey seem filled with potential excitement.

  “It’s a report on your fire and your rain,” Mastrin explained, dimming some of the adventure Kestrel had imagined. “I haven’t put anything in writing about your brush with the deities, but I want to make sure you speak about that with Colonel Silvan. It doesn’t need to be in writing at this point, but the colonel will be interested in your story. When you reach the receipts desk at the Center Trunk department of the headquarters building, make sure you tell them you are to hand it over directly to Silvan yourself. Wait as long as it takes,” Mastrin emphasized. “This blue ribbon on the end of the tube shows that it’s meant for direct delivery, so they can’t argue with you.”

  He felt guilty for sending the boy on this mission. His conscious weighed heavy, but he had concluded that Kestrel’s uniqueness – unique in multiple ways – had to be shared with someone in command of the elf defenses against humanity. He trusted Silvan to have the judgment and scruples to use the knowledge and the boy fairly. Kestrel’s story had set Mastrin’s mind adrift in speculation about all the implications of what the boy might face in the future.

  “How long will the journey be?” Kestrel asked cautiously. “I’ve never been there before.”

  “Never been to the big city before?” Mastrin asked with forced jocularity. Now that he had handed the report to Kestrel to take to Center Trunk, he had a foreboding sense that he had sealed the boy’s fate. “You’ll think it’s a wonderful place. It’s big – the trees are big, and it’s spread out from morning to night. There’re more elves than you thought lived in all the land, all gathered in one place.

  “It’s about a two day trip, maybe three, if that arm slows you down. You don’t have to hurry,” Mastrin said reassuringly.

  “It’s okay if I stop to say goodbye to Cheryl?” Kestrel asked.

  “Certainly, certainly,” Mastrin affirmed.

  “On your way, you can stay in any inn you want to. Just show them the ribbon on the tube; it entitles you to shelter. The innkeepers know they have to give you a spot – it’s the law, so don’t let them give you some sad story about how full they already are.

  “Take care, Kestrel,” Mastrin stood and walked around the desk to shake the boy’s hand firmly. “Safe travels in your journey. May all the gods, ours and theirs, look upon you kindly.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Kestrel replied, uncertain about his commander’s surprisingly friendly expressions, out of character from his usual military mien. He left the office and walked over to see Cheryl, carrying the message tube carefully in his unencumbered hand.

  She greeted him at the door. “Kestrel? Again in the middle of the day? Please come in,” she ushered him into the parlor. I’m sorry that Malsten isn’t here to enjoy your company,” she laughed as they were seated. She sat on the divan with him, he noted exuberantly, though she kept an appropriate distance by sitting at the far end of the piece of furniture.

  “Your father has sent me to Center Trunk,” Kestrel blurted out. “I wanted to see you before I go.”

  “That’s such a long way!” Cheryl exclaimed. “Have you ever gone there before?”

  “No, never. I’ve never gone nearly so far away,” Kestrel admitted.

  “How long will it take?” she asked.

  “Your dad said to take two or three days to get there, so I’ll need a couple of days to get back too, plus whatever time I spend there,” Kestrel estimated. “About a week all told.”

  “It will be such an adventure!” Cheryl told him, her eyes shining.

  “Have you ever gone there?” Kestrel asked.

  “No. We were up in Firheng when I was a baby, but I don’t remember. Elmheng is the only town I’ve known,” she replied. “They say the trees are so large in Center Trunk.”

  There was a silent pause, as Kestrel desperately tried to think of some topic to discuss
.

  “I better go. I don’t want your father to think I’ve been dawdling,” he at last said awkwardly. “I’ll miss you,” he told her as he stood. He hesitated just a moment more, then leaned towards her to kiss her, only to find that she was rising from her seat as he was lowering his head, and their foreheads knocked sharply.

  “Ouch!” each exclaimed as they stood rubbing their foreheads, Kestrel blushing with embarrassment, until Cheryl removed her hands from her forehead and placed them on his cheeks. They looked into one another’s eyes, then Cheryl stood up on her toes, and their lips touched each other’s firmly, in a warm kiss.

  “There, that was better,” Cheryl spoke first.

  “I’ll miss you,” Kestrel answered breathlessly.

  “You better! Don’t you get distracted by all the girls in Center Trunk!” Cheryl scolded him.

  “They have girls in Center Trunk?” Kestrel asked, his eyes growing wide in mock surprise.

  “Bad, bad boy!” Cheryl shrieked with a grin as she pushed him.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Kestrel said at last, after a long hug, and then he was out the door.

  “What do you have for a traveler?” he asked the cooks in the commissary ten minutes later, and five minutes after that he had a sack of supplies and was on his way on the eastern road towards the capital city. He only had to trot along the lightly traveled road for three hours to be beyond the farthest distance he had ever traveled towards the east. Three hours more beyond that the sky was nearly dark, and Kestrel roused himself from his speculation about the meaning of his kiss with Cheryl as he was passing through a small village, one that he concluded was the logical choice for spending the night.

  “I’d like a room for the night,” Kestrel told the innkeeper after he entered a dinghy clapboard building with a green shingle hung outside, displaying a crude painting of an oak tree, the universal sign of hospitality. Inside, the atmosphere seemed less than hospitable, as a local militia group occupied the tavern room, asserting its dominance in a drunken and noisy manner. Alec watched a serving girl hesitate and take a deep breath as she stood in the kitchen doorway with a wooden pitcher of ale. She plunged into the public room with a determined look on her face, shifting her hips to avoid groping hands from certain tables as she poured more drink for the customers and collected their coins.