The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 01 - The Healing Spring

by Jeffrey Quyle

  Arlen’s trust was reassuring. Kestrel’s return to the Elven community felt easier and more comfortable, knowing that someone who knew him could still have complete faith in him, and buoy his trust in himself.

  He would be back through Firheng again, he felt confident, and so it seemed reasonable to leave his belongings in his room atop the housing unit. He stuffed minimal supplies in his pack, then gathered up his bow and arrow, typical of elven guards, and his sword and staff, atypical of elves, and went to see Belinda. She had a message tube sitting on her desk awaiting him, and a smile on her face when she saw him.

  “I’ll tell you, Kestrel, that water you provide is a miracle. My eyes tear up just thinking about how much good it will do Ranor to use the new skin of water on him,” she told him earnestly. She rose and picked the tube off the desk, then handed it to him before giving him a long, tight hug.

  “Travel safely, and come back to us soon, with or without those stylish ears!” she grinned as they broke their clinch and looked at each other. She was another good friend Kestrel could rely on to trust him and have faith in him, he knew. “And tell those goddesses to go easier on you next time!” she added impishly.

  “I’ll tell them,” he smiled back, then was out the door and on his way to Center Trunk.

  The trees were beginning to change. Autumn’s beginning was not far away. He had noticed leaves on the ground as he left Estone, but his attention had usually been diverted by his thoughts and worries, so he had paid little attention. Now, as he jogged along the southern road within the forest, he noticed the leaves on the ground, and the colors that were emerging among the green leaves still on the trees. His journey was a little noisier than it had been during the summer, as leaves crunched beneath his feet, but Kestrel appreciated the noise as a reminder of life in the forest, the life of an elf in the autumn, when the nuts were harvested and stored in a frenzy of preparation for the approaching winter.

  That night he climbed up into a tree and slept, rather than use his blue-ribboned tube to secure a bed at an inn. He appreciated and preferred the solitude of the forest, until he awoke just before dawn to the arrival of a rain shower.

  Kestrel hastily climbed down from his tree perch, almost slipping on the wet branches during his descent, then pulled a weatherproof cover from his pack, and began a slow stroll along the forest path. When daylight sullenly arrived through the heavy overcast, he picked up speed slightly, careful of the slick leaves that were being knocked from the trees along the entire course of his journey that day. Ditches filled with water, and streams rose as rain steadily soaked the forest all day long. Kestrel was chilled by late afternoon, and had no doubt about the advisability of stopping at a small village inn for the night. His message tube secured a room for his use, and he undressed and dried out before putting on dry clothes and heading down to the common room for dinner.

  Few travelers were at the inn, but many locals had come to the tavern to socialize, and Kestrel was squeezed between two groups of the villagers as he ate his dinner quietly and listened to their talk. Despite the weeks that had passed since the fire and battle with the humans, the conflict was still a topic of conversation, and Kestrel listened gloomily to the elves speak angrily about the humans. A pair of guards from their own village were killed in the battle, and the neighbors mourned their loss

  “You look kind of human yourself,” one of the larger elves at the table said to Kestrel, speaking over the rim of his tankard of ale.

  “I’m a member of the guard, delivering a message,” Kestrel said quietly. He sensed that he needed to pick his words carefully to avoid any open hostility.

  “But you look human,” the other elf insisted.

  “I am an elf,” Kestrel replied.

  “You are what you look like,” the large elf placed his tankard on the table, and the others around the brewing confrontation grew quiet as he rose from his seat.

  There was an inevitability to the approaching fight, Kestrel concluded. He rose too.

  “If that’s the case, you ought to be out in the woods snorting around searching for acorns, because you look like a pig. Oink, oink,” Kestrel replied.

  The room was profoundly silent at that, and the drunken man’s face grew red, while his features distorted in anger, and he dove across the table at Kestrel.

  The fight between the two lasted fifteen seconds. Kestrel was sober, and he was trained in hand-to-hand combat, and he was confident in his abilities. He evaded his opponent, then struck hard and repeatedly before he forced the drunkard to the floor and placed a foot on his back in a victory pose.

  “Does anyone else doubt I’m an elf?” he asked.

  In reply an arrow flew across the small room, and struck him on his chest, bouncing off the hidden mark Kai had placed in his chest. The arrow bounced off him and deflected to the table spot he had previously sat in, striking the wood with enough force to stick, as Kestrel was forced backward a step by the energy the shaft pressed against him.

  Kestrel looked up at an elf who held an empty bow, his jaw hanging slackly. Kestrel raised his finger and pointed. “You’ll regret that,” he told the shooter, then drove at him, punching him and breaking his bow.

  The tavern emptied out rapidly, and Kestrel looked at the dismayed proprietor. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

  “Lad, I’m likely to have twice as many here tomorrow talking about tonight,” the older elf said philosophically. “They shouldn’t have treated you that way.”

  Kestrel left the empty room and went upstairs, where he bolted his door and lay down on his cot to contemplate the foolishness of the evening. Twice he had been attacked by elves for looking like a human, as well as taunted endlessly while growing up. He’d never been attacked among the humans, but he’d only been in a rare city where elves were accepted, or at least tolerated, among humans, and he’d not been there long, and he’d not been associated with elves by the humans he came in contact with.

  But the people he trusted and cared about most, Merilla, Arlen, Belinda, Cheryl – were a mix of both humans and elves, and their friendship wasn’t diminished by his mixed identity. And deities from both races had offered him aid and blessings.

  Kestrel fell asleep and slept uneasily. He awoke after dawn, with the rain ended, the sun shining, and the road a leaf-strewn mess. Kestrel appropriated a roll from the tavern kitchen, then left the inn behind and began his travels for the day.

  He ran and he thought, and he reached a decision before he reached the gates of Center Trunk. He would do what he thought was in the best interest of elves and humans. He would listen to Colonel Silvan and he would listen to the Doge of Estone. He would listen to Kai and to Kere. But when action was needed, he would think of his friends, human and elven and even sprite and imp, and do what his own judgment told him was the right thing to do.

  Chapter 27 – Center Trunk Surgery

  Kestrel reached Center Trunk after sunset, and went to the barracks where he had stayed before. He remembered that Silvan might work late, might be in his office, watched over by Giardell, as he had on the occasion of Kestrel’s first visit to the capital, but he didn’t feel he wanted to face the spymaster in the darkened room at night, after a long day of travel. Better to sleep until daylight he reasoned, and visit Silvan in the morning.

  He used the blue messenger tube to justify a room at the guest barracks building, and selected the same room he had held his first time in Center Trunk. He lay on the bed and listened to the gentled sound of the city around him, and fell asleep.

  He sat up abruptly soon after dawn, awoken by the sound of a sharp knocking on his door. “Who’s there?” he asked as he scrambled out of bed.

  “It’s me, Kestrel, Giardell. Colonel Silvan received a report that you arrived last night, and sent me over to fetch you to the office. He’s anxious to read your report and listen to your comments,” the voice outside the door answered.

  Kestrel pulled on c
lothes, grabbed his message tube, and opened the door. Giardell stood across the hall, as polished and prepared as ever. Kestrel was glad to see him; Giardell was solid and reliable, seemingly incorruptible in his devotion to his duty, which was guarding Colonel Silvan.

  Kestrel made one needed stop, and then the two of them crossed the military base to the office building that raised Kestrel’s hackles.

  “Messenger Kestrel has arrived,” Giardell announced as he leaned in the doorway of Silvan’s office, then opened the door wide in response to an unintelligible comment from within, and Kestrel entered the office. Silvan stood behind his desk, looking as grandfatherly as before, a gentle smile on his face.

  The window shades allowed narrow slates of light to fall in slices across the floor; for just a second, Kestrel had an irrational feeling that they were jail bars, and he was about to be trapped in a cell.

  Silvan came around his desk and walked out to greet Kestrel. He shook his hand, then held out his other for the messenger tube. “Kestrel, it’s quite a surprise to see you back like this,” he examined Kestrel’s ears and eyebrows carefully, then looked into his eyes. “I hope you’re at peace,” he said, “and if you’re not, I’d like to help you find your peace.

  “Have a seat,” he motioned, towards the chairs at the desk, then walked around the desk and opened the tube. He began to read the message within before he had even sat down, leaving Kestrel to fidget as he absorbed the contents.

  “Have you had anything to eat this morning?” he asked as he looked up suddenly.

  “No sir,” Kestrel replied.

  “Why don’t you and Giardell go to the commissary and grab a bite of food, and please bring a jelly cracker back for me,” he gave a slight grin as Kestrel rose and left the room.

  “Let me guess, we’re supposed to get a jelly cracker for Silvan?” Giardell asked as Kestrel reemerged.

  “I can get some breakfast for myself too,” Kestrel grinned. “You could too.”

  The commissary food was basic but filling, and Kestrel found that he was too nervous to eat heartily, so after a few minutes at a table with a partially filled plate, they returned to the office building. When Kestrel walked into Silvan’s office to deliver the pastry and resume the interview, he found that Alicia was waiting for him as well.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath at the sight of the elven maid who had deceived him and operated on him.

  “I’m sorry to see such a reaction, Kestrel,” she said, lowering the hand she had raised to shake with. “I really like you. No one else has ever fought for me the way you did, and no one else will ever introduce me to sprites and imps the way you have!

  “May I approach and examine you?” she asked as he slowly stepped over to give Silvan his jelly cracker.

  “Yes,” Kestrel said in a quiet voice.

  “Will you attack her or harm her if she approaches?” Silvan asked.

  Kestrel sat in a chair. No,” he replied. She started to walk towards him. “Probably not,” he qualified his answer, and she stopped in her tracks, a flicker of fear on her lovely face.

  “No,” Kestrel, clarified, pleased to see she took his anger seriously. She was so beautiful, so exotic in appearance, but she had so grossly violated his trust that he looked upon her with all the wariness of a wounded animal watching a hunter approach.

  Carefully she approached him, and knelt down beside him looking at his ear, then gently touching it. “Can you feel my touch?” she asked calmly.

  “Like a stinging wasp,” Kestrel answered.

  She circled around behind him and looked at his other ear, then touched his eyebrow. “Do you feel this touch?” her finger gently massaged his forehead.

  “Yes,” he told her. She stood up and walked back over to Silvan’s side. “Everything is as if nothing had ever been done. There’s complete nerve regeneration, and not a sign of scar material anywhere.

  “How often did you apply the healing water?” she asked.

  “Just three or four times when my ears started to regrow, and those times I didn’t even put in on my ears. A couple of times I just got it on my hands while I was applying the water to someone else,” he told the two of them. “And then after that I used it to heal the things the goddess did.”

  “May I, may we, see that, please?” Alicia asked.

  Kestrel stood with a stolid expression on his face, and wordlessly removed his shirt. They both came around the desk this time, looking him over with the most meticulous attention, as he stared at a spot on the distant wall.

  “This is where the goddess touched you?” Alicia asked, her hand settled into the scarred handprint on his back.

  “No, she touched me here,” he motioned towards his chest. “But her powers went all the way through me to my back.”

  They both bent and tried to decipher the writing on his chest. “It’s written in human,” Alicia commented. “I can’t read it.”

  “Kai’s champion, Estone’s Champion, Humanity’s Champion,” Kestrel told her, remembering the words Belinda had spoken.

  “Are you?” Silvan asked.

  “I am who I am. That is what a goddess has named me,” Kestrel replied.

  “If we offer to return your ears to human form, will you go off on the mission we assign you to, or will you go off to live life among the humans as one of them because that’s what you want to do?” the colonel asked shrewdly, coming around to face Kestrel, as Alicia continued to look closely at his chest mark.

  “I’d try to carry out the mission,” Kestrel answered.

  “It looks like there’s a little bit of a scratch along it right here,” her finger drew a line on his chest.

  “I was hit by an arrow a couple of nights ago. That’s probably from the spot where the arrow bounced off,” Kestrel said.

  “It protects you from arrows?” Silvan asked in astonishment.

  “It cannot be penetrated,” Kestrel confirmed.

  “Astonishing,” Alicia murmured.

  “Do you want to go on this mission, the one we had planned for you, to go to the human nations and learn about their war plans against the elves?” Silvan asked.

  “But not to do any harm to Estone’s people?” Kestrel clarified.

  “Estone has done us no harm, so we have no intention for you to fight against them,” Silvan agreed.

  “I accept the assignment,” Kestrel answered.

  “Alicia, go prepare yourself,” Silvan said.

  “Do you have any more of your healing water?” she asked Kestrel.

  “No, not here with me,” he thought of the skin of water he had given to Belinda for her husband. “But I can go to the spring and get some more,” he added.

  “How long will it take?” Silvan asked.

  Kestrel wasn’t sure whether Dewberry would interrupt her honeymoon for him, although she had come to him once already when it suited her. “Possibly a couple of hours, possibly a couple of days,” he answered cautiously. “Give me some water skins and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Ah yes,” Silvan said as he realized Kestrel’s intent. “You do have some extraordinary resources to call upon, don’t you?

  “Go get some skins and return here when you have the water. We’ll carry on from there,” Silvan decided. “You’re both dismissed,” he addressed both Kestrel and Alicia.

  Stiffly, Kestrel left the office and went down the stairs, heading to the quartermaster’s depot to get his skins. “Kestrel, wait, please,” he heard Alicia’s voice behind him. He reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped without turning around.

  “Will you ever forgive me?” she asked as she hurried down the stairs to catch up with him.

  “No,” he said flatly.

  “Kestrel, please try. Please find it in your heart. I really admire you. I want to be friends,” she told him.

  “There can’t be friendship where there isn’t trust,” he answered. “Is that all?”

  “Yes,” she conceded defeat. “Just let m
e know when you’re ready for the operation.”

  He walked out the door without further comment, and went down the way to a large building that held the supplies the guardsmen needed. He walked out five minutes later with a half dozen empty water skins, and carried them up to his room.

  Once the door was closed, he sat down on the mattress. “Dewberry?” he called. He reached out with his heart and mind, and repeated the call three times, then waited.

  “Kestrel? What are you doing back here?” the sprite emerged from nothingness and promptly questioned him.

  “I’m going to have my ears changed again, and I need more water from the healing spring. Would you and Jonson be willing to take me there?” he asked. The sprite was dressed in a bright red dress, one that was very short, and she was the most colorful being Kestrel had ever imagined seeing.

  “Jonson can’t come. He’s busy working today on some project his father gave him,” Dewberry pouted. “But maybe I could take you myself!” she said brightly.

  Kestrel looked at her doubtfully. “I don’t understand what you do or how you do it, but I have the impression I’m too big for one sprite to carry,” he said.

  “Let me go see if my brother wants to help,” Dewberry said, and she disappeared. Kestrel waited patiently, and moments later two sprites appeared.

  “He’s willing to go if we get to enjoy the water,” Dewberry told Kestrel.

  “I have such wonderful dreams while I sleep there,” her brother explained brightly.

  And within moments they were gone, away from the dull sleeping room and returned to the warm waters of the healing spring. The air was appreciably cooler than the air in Center Trunk, and tendrils of gentle steam rose from the surface of the water. Kestrel looked at the pool, mesmerized by the beauty of the sight, then turned to discover that both the sprites were sitting beside the water awaiting his attention.

  In took little time to lay them on the shallow beach of the water that Kestrel relied on for resting sprites, and then he turned his attention to industriously dipping each of his skins into the pool, filling them methodically, until he had a pile of finished products and no more skins left to fill. He felt obligated to let the sprites have more time to soak in the warm waters and enjoy whatever dreamlike effects the water had on them, so he sat with his own feet dangling in the water while the rest of him remained in the cool air, and he thought about Cheryl, living in Elmheng without her father.