He stopped talking, as Alicia examined his appearance. Already he seemed to look a little better, not so ground up and destroyed as he had first appeared.
“I think you’re getting better already, Kestrel,” she whispered. “Just rest; I’ll see if I can undress you now,” her hands slid down and unbuckled his belt, and unbuttoned his pants, and she carefully removed them, then bit-bybit she pulled his shirt off of him. “Oh Kestrel,” she sobbed momentarily, as she saw the wounds across his torso, as bad as the pounded flesh of his face, as bad as the crushed digits on his hands.
“The world does change us all,” she said after a while. “And some changes are permanent, some are even good, but we all change Kestrel. You’ll become an elf again, and you’ll love the trees again, I know you will.
“Lucretia will always have more gravity than she did before, but she’ll come to look forward to new adventures and wonderful changes, even little ones,” Alicia tried to reassure him.
Kestrel lay silently, listening to her words, feeling the pain slowly diminish, as the water of the spring washed it away. And what about you? he thought, without voicing his questions to Alicia. Will you become faithful to your husband again? Would I be so upset if I was the one who you had welcomed to your bed? Would I have declined? He shook his head gently at the recognition of his own weakness, then breathed deeply and fell asleep, immersed in the healthy waters.
When he awoke in the morning, the sun was shining, and Alicia was lying against him in the water. He felt healthy and strong, only lingering pain in a few spots left as evidence of his near-death experience. The sprites were gone, he realized, and he gently prodded Alicia awake.
“Where are our friends?” he asked after she had blinked herself into consciousness. She was suddenly very aware of their naked bodies resting against one another in the bright daylight, and she selfconsciously sat up, arms folded across her chest.
“I pulled them out of the water before sunrise, and awoke them. They’ve left to go for breakfast. I told them to come back around sunset,” she answered.
“Sunset? You think we’ll be here all day?” Kestrel asked.
“Don’t you remember how this works?” Alicia asked. “I brought a wineskin so that you could get drunk enough to pass out. That’s going to take a little while,” she reminded him, “even though you’re not a heavy drinker apparently, or has that changed?” Kestrel shook his head. “Then I need to actually operate, and that will take a little while, kneeling here on the grass. And then you need to awaken and sober up and we need to see what shape your ears are in.
“So I don’t think one day is asking too much,” she finished her lecture and climbed up out of the water.
“Here, your stomach is nice and empty now, so go ahead and start drinking the wine,” she picked up the wine skin and tossed it to him. He caught it and stood up, then took a drink as he waded out of the pool and stepped back on to dry land.
Kestrel sat down and took another long drink of the wine, then coughed momentarily. He lay down with his head on the skins of spring water that Alicia had filled during the evening, and he took another drink, feeling the effects of the wine already. He looked over at Alicia, who had put a shirt on, and had her back to him, unrolling and inspecting her instruments.
“How long?” he asked.
She knew what he was asking. “I would say that it’s none of your business, but in a way, it is,” she answered, without turning to face him. “It began after Lucretia arrived. After I treated her and calmed her down, got her cleaned up and put to bed, I was so upset by what I saw that I had some of that,” she mentioned, “the wine you’re drinking, and I was still upset. Giardell was there; he had helped me with Lucretia, when she was hysterical, and he comforted me, and we just happened to find ourselves too far gone before we knew it,” she said.
“You should stay here and be safe; help keep us safe. There’s something sinister in Center Trunk these days. The red robes don’t do anything, but I feel a menace from them,” she suggested.
“I’d feel safer for you and safer for us if you stayed in Center Trunk. Do you have to go back, Kestrel?” she asked. “Won’t they just take you back to the palace and destroy you again?”
He took another drink of the wine; the skin was already half empty. “I want to make sure my friends get away safely,” he answered. “Philip and Creata are good men, and their sisters are two of the best women I ever met. They have good hearts – good souls.”
“Better than your human girl up in Estone? Better than Lucretia?” Alicia asked.
“They’re all good girls,” Kestrel said expansively. “Every one of them has a good heart. I’d trust my life in any of their hands, and yours too, for that matter.”
“You are, literally,” Alicia held two sharp knives up above her head. “Here we are, alone in the woods, you drunk and about to pass out, me with these blades. You better say nice things about me,” she laughed, and Kestrel laughed with her, then took another swig of the wine, and laid the skin down.
“These new gods from the south, they’re vicious,” he murmured, as Alicia came and sat beside him. “They believe in slavery, in human sacrifice,” he thought of the evidence uncovered in Estone. “They scare the old gods. Tell Silvan that we have to take serious steps to fight them,” Kestrel said.
“Yes, my drunk warrior,” Alicia said fondly, looking down at him. She picked up the wine skin and squirted a stream into his mouth. “And what would you have Silvan do?” she asked.
“We may have to send an army of elves to help the humans from the Inner Seas fight against the invaders,” Kestrel said drowsily. “We may have to get the gnomes and the sprites and the imps and the elves to all fight together against them, helping the humans we’ve always fought against before. If we don’t, we’re all going to be beaten one by one,” he warned, as he eyes closed and he fell asleep.
“Quite the strategist now, Kestrel my dear,” she said softly. “I don’t think anyone else has the vision you have to see these things.” And with that, she began to trim the flesh of his ears.
Chapter 11– Rescue from the Palace
When Kestrel awoke, the sky was still light above, and three sprites were lying in the water, asleep, as Alicia sat and softly hummed a tune to herself at the water’s bank. She noticed Kestrel’s movement, and turned to see him.
“Don’t try to touch them,” she peremptorily ordered, as she saw his hands creeping to the sides of his head.
“They hurt,” Kestrel complained. “More than last time.”
Alicia rose and knelt next to him. “I tried to cut them back a little more this time, because I imagine that with an all-day soaking in the spring, your body will continue to try to heal itself vigorously for a day or two. And I also put very little water directly on them for the same reason.
“I wouldn’t go around trying to show them off for the next day or two,” she advised.
“Why start now?” he agreed. “How are my eyebrows?”
“They’re a thing of beauty,” she assured him.
“Are we ready to go?” he asked.
“Let the sprites have a few more minutes,” Alicia told him, wrapping her tools into their cloth.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you Kestrel? I’d like to see you like this next time, not like you were yesterday,” she urged. “It was sickening to see your body so badly mistreated.”
“I will be careful,” he promised. “And please take care of two people for me while I’m gone,” he asked.
She sighed, sensing what was coming. “Lucretia and Silvan?” she guessed.
“Half right,” he answered. “Lucretia and yourself. Take care of yourself too, Alicia,” he urged her as he stood up. “I know what Lucretia suffered, and what she needs to be healed from. I don’t really understand it with you though.”
“Nicely put,” Alicia patted him on the shoulder. “No, I don’t think you do understand many things about me. Now, let’s go get your blue friends
out of their rapture.”
Minutes later Alicia stood with multiple waterskins strung around her neck, when Kestrel came and removed one to take with him. “I may need this for my friends,” he explained, as the sprites swarmed around her.
They looked at one another, both uncertain about how to say farewell, and then the sprites were in place, and she was gone.
“Now young man, here’s my advice,” Kestrel whirled to see a short, stout grandmotherly figure standing behind him in the clearing.
“My goddess!” he exclaimed, bending one knee and bowing before her.
“One of your goddesses, at least,” Kere said in a factual tone, without dismay or concern. “When you return to Graylee, you must immediately go to the palace where the Hydrotaz hostages are kept. There are two hostages there, a boy named Graysen, and a girl named Yulia. You must set them free, and make sure they return to Hydrotaz safely– take them there yourself.”
“As you command, my goddess,” Kestrel answered. “What will I do with them in Hydrotaz? Where should I take them?” he asked.
“Go where your heart tells you, and it will be right,” the goddess replied.
“And then shall I return to Graylee?” Kestrel asked.
“You’ll go where your heart tells you, where you think is right,” Kere repeated enigmatically. “You’ll need a tool at some point in your adventure, I’m sure,” she told him. “Here is a liquid that if you take a sip, will make you invisible for an hour. Take it,” she handed him a small vial, “And use it when you know you need it. There is little here, so use it prudently.
“Now your sprites approach, and I must be gone. Farewell Kestrel,” she said, and disappeared, as Kestrel looked at the small tube.
Reasion and the other two sprites appeared once again. “We feel most fortunate to have twice been in the magic waters of the healing springs,” the spokesman for the group said. “And we are pleased that our friend is so much restored. We are ready to take you on your journey.”
“I wish to return to the room you removed me from a day ago,” Kestrel explained. “The room with the little bathroom you hid in while I talked to my friends.”
“We will do as you wish,” the sprite replied, and the blue beings circled around Kestrel, as he stood with his staff and his knife and his water skin ready, and they transported him back to the room in Graylee City.
The room was a shambles, and Kestrel’s heart sank in despair. “Thank you friends,” he said politely, as he surveyed the room. “Your help has truly saved my life this time. Reasion, thank you,” he singled out the silent sprite who had organized the others on his behalf.
“Perhaps we can help you again in the future after all, if we know we will be taken to the magic waters, and be able to dream there,” the spokesman said shyly. “Do not discount such a possibility.” And then the blue bodies were gone, and Kestrel stood alone amid the wreckage. The furniture was overturned and broken, the mattress was ripped apart, its stuffing spread about the room, and the window was shattered.
“This room was my home,” Kestrel said softly, “and we’ll have revenge for this.”
He cautiously stepped across the floor and opened the door. There was no one in the hallway, but a faint sound of movement somewhere downstairs. Cautiously, Kestrel crept down the stairs, and listened again. The sound was a rhythmic clatter of broken glass and debris, not the sound of random destruction, he realized, so he went down to the ground floor and found the source of the noise – a maid sweeping up broken glass.
She shrieked when she saw him, then ran to him and hugged him. “Oh master Kestrel! You’re alive and you’re back! Are you going to save them?” she wept, as she removed her arms from around him. “I was told you were dead and gone,” she added, “It’s so good to see you again.”
“I’ve been gone to a healer,” he answered. “Tell me what’s happened.”
“Yesterday afternoon guards from the palace came and took all our young nobles away, then they ransacked the house, searching for something,” she answered. “Half the staff fled, and the rest of us are trying to fix the place up now.”
“Is there a basement to this house, a place where folks could hide?” he asked.
“There is a back room beneath the basement; that’s where three of us hid yesterday when the guards came, but none of the nobles hid,” she answered.
“Stay here, and keep cleaning,” Kestrel told her. “I’ll go try to set some things right. Don’t give up hope.”
“We won’t my lord, now that we know you’re going to help. I’ve heard there’s no one who fights better than you!” the maid smiled for the first time.
Kestrel went back upstairs to find a pair of boots, then left the house and went to the armory.
“Mills,” he called as he entered the building, and saw several heads turn to stare at him.
“We were told you were dead,” Mills said quietly, stepping out of his office behind Kestrel.
“I’m not,” Kestrel replied, bringing a grin to the trainer’s face. “I won’t trouble you for long. I need a stout bow and a quiver of arrows.”
“Help yourself,” Mills told him. “You know where the weapons are.”
Kestrel plundered the supply room, selecting the arrows carefully to make sure he had shafts that would fly true, then left the armory and began to journey towards the palace. He had no plan fully crafted, and his mind raced through possible ideas as he walked through the alleys and cut through shrubberies and courtyards to stay out of sight on his way.
He reached a location within sight of the back wall of the palace, and settled into a tree where he could watch the delivery gate as it handled the flow of carts and couriers carrying goods into the palace and bundling the waste away. The security was loose, he noted, as he strung an arrow, then let it fly at one of the two guards standing at the momentarily empty gate. He fired another arrow immediately, and within seconds he dropped out of the tree and reached the gate, then dragged the two bodies inside the walls and behind a screen of ornamental bushes.
Kestrel stripped each of the two bodies as quickly as he could, then garbed himself in the uniform of the palace, and strolled at an unconcerned pace through the grounds, and towards the front of the palace, towards the path he had been escorted on during his own journey towards imprisonment. He was stopped once by an officer. “Where’s your assigned post?” the man asked Kestrel.
“I’ve been told to go to the prison cells to replace a man who got sick,” Kestrel replied. “I don’t completely know the way there.”
“Straight ahead to the yellow door on the right, then go left and down and left again,” the man snapped. “And put some hustle in your step,” he added curtly, then continued on his way.
Kestrel followed his directions, and soon found himself stepping down the stairs he had traveled as a prisoner three days earlier. He had no idea how many guards were on duty or how tight security would be, and before he opened the last door, he prepared his bow and strung an arrow loosely, then kicked the door open, and stayed back in the shadows of the stairwell, waiting to see what the response would be.
“What was that?” a man’s voice asked.
“Is someone there? Marchie, is that you?” another voice asked.
After a silent pause, footsteps began to ponderously walk towards the door. Kestrel put his bow down, and picked up his staff, and raised it above his head.
“What the?” a man asked in a startled voice as he reached the doorway and looked around the corner to see Kestrel swing the staff down over his head, knocking him unconscious. Kestrel pulled his knife free from his belt, looked into the hallway, and saw one other guard watching the mysterious events at the stairwell door. He threw Lucretia at the guard, then cautiously stepped into the open square of the prison area as the knife penetrated his target’s chest.
There were no other guards present, and there was no other exit from the area. Kestrel dragged the unconscious guard into the room, picked up his bow,
and swung the door shut. He retrieved his knife from the dead guard’s body as he picked a lantern up from the desk, and turned the wick up to increase the illumination in the chamber, then went to the first cell door on his left, held the lantern up, and looked into the room.
A man he did not know was looking at the light in the opening. “What’s your name?” Kestrel asked.
“Carson,” the man answered. He didn’t appear to have been brutalized by the guards in any way.
Kestrel left the door without comment and went to the next one. Inside the cell was Creata, also watching the door. His face was bruised on his cheek, but no other injuries were apparent.
Kestrel returned to the guards and rifled their clothes until he found a set of keys. With the keys in hand, he returned to Creata’s cell and fumbled through three efforts before the right key swung the door open.
“Creata,” Kestrel whispered, then realized he had no reason to lower his voice, “come out and help me find the others.”
“Who is it? Who are you?” Creata asked as he cautiously approached the door.
Kestrel stepped back and held the lamp at arm’s length to illuminate himself, bringing Creata bounding out with joy. “How can this be? You looked dead two days ago! And those sprites! What have they done for you? Are they going to take all of us away?” he looked around the room, expecting to see blue bodies floating in the air.
“No, the sprites are not a part of this,” Kestrel said. “We have to get out of here the typical way, with our feet and our brains.
“Now tell me, is Philip around here? Where are the girls?” he asked.
“Philip’s here somewhere. Philip, where are you?” he called loudly.
“Creata?” they heard Philip’s voice come from a cell on the far side of the chamber.
“Here,” Kestrel gave the keys to Creata. “Go set Philip free. I need to get the guards intoyour cell,” he explained.
The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 02 - The Yellow Palace Page 18