He turned and walked over to where Hierodule and Hiram were part of a cluster of elves, both male and female, who looked at the child Hierodule held.
“I didn’t know if we would ever live long enough for this little boy to be born,” Hierodule looked up at Kestrel with a smile. “I’m going to name him after you, Kestrel.”
“My friend, Canyon, the imp, died in the battle out there. I would be honored if you would keep Canyon’s name alive by granting his name to your son,” Kestrel suggested, speaking the human language once again. “It would mean a lot to me.”
“That would be a great heritage for him to possess,” Hierodule said. “I remember Canyon; he was a quiet imp compared to the others who travel with you.”
“Travelled,” Kestrel corrected. “The others have left us to carry Canyon home. We won’t see them again for a long time.”
“I’m sorry Kestrel,” Hiram spoke up for the first time.
“I’m going to go stand watch outside the cave. Is there anything you need before I go? Can you speak with them?” he indicated the watching elves. “Do they speak the human language?”
“I do speak their language,” the woman healer among the elves said. “We can communicate with the mother.”
Kestrel bent low, and gently brushed his fingertips across the cheek and the shoulder of the infant as it continued to suckle. “Welcome to the world, young Canyon,” he spoke in elvish. “I look forward to watching you grow up in a world that is safe for all babies, human, elven, imp, and gnome,” he said. He bobbed his head and kissed the top of Hierodule’s head, feeling a sudden rush of compassion for the new mother, then he turned and walked back to the entrance of the cave, and stepped outside.
After a long glance up at the bright stars in the now-cloudless sky overhead, Kestrel scrambled up the rocks on the hillside above the entrance and took a seat atop a stone that jutted out. He tried to relax, to release the tension that the evening had created, from the ambush to his use of the alien energy in such a destructive manner, to Hierodule’s labor and birth, to Canyon’s death and the shelter with the elves. It was a cycle of such profound mood changes that Kestrel felt exhausted by all that had happened in a matter of just a few short hours.
He looked into the darkness and thought of the imps, carrying their tragic burden home through the night, over such a long journey. “Please watch over them Kai,” he breathed the words of a prayer.
“They are not my children, but I will watch over them. They have been good friends for you and countless others,” Kai said softly beside him.
Her appearance was soft, and vulnerable, making Kestrel want to reach out and hug her protectively. But her substance was a translucence that showed there was no material presence beyond the image of the goddess.
“Are you feeling well, my goddess?” Kestrel asked, worried by the vulnerability he saw in the eyes of the goddess. She looked like a human woman who had suffered, rather than a divine being.
“Oh Kestrel, that is so rich!” the goddess gave a throaty laugh. “I’ve come to comfort you, and you are here worried about me, your immortal protector. You are such a good boy.
“But you are in such mortal danger too. You’re walking along the edge of a precipice. The evil power that is living within you is a danger to you. If I could do anything, I would exorcise that power from you, but it is strong, and has integrated itself too completely within you for me to be able to safely remove it,” the goddess said.
“I know that many elements of your life seem dark now, but the prospect of brighter times may not be far away,” Kai said. “Be careful of the anger. Do not let it burn in your soul. There will only be one more great challenge in the use of the energy, I foresee, and then we all will rise or fall on your actions, my champion.”
“Why is there so much riding on me?” Kestrel asked. “I do not feel strong enough to carry this load.”
“You are strong enough Kestrel,” Kai assured him. “I have seen it, Kere has seen it, Corrant has seen it. We all have faith in you. Continue on this journey, and soon it will be over.”
And with that the shadow of the goddess disappeared, leaving Kestrel alone in wonder under the canopy of stars. He sat there for a long time, watching the darkness and finding hope in the things Kai had told him, then went back down into the quiet cavern. No one appeared to be awake, and only the embers of the cooking fire provided illumination. He saw Moorin sleeping in the same spot she had been treated in; Lake was lying on the ground to her right. Kestrel walked over through the dim cavern to lay down to her left, where he quickly fell asleep.
When he awoke, Moorin had cast her cloak over him and rolled towards him, so that their bodies were only inches apart. A vague redness indicated the location of the doorway to the cavern, and foretold the arrival of dawn.
Kestrel opened his eyes, still sleepy, from his short night of rest, and studied the flawless beauty of Moorin’s face. Even after weeks of difficult captivity and flight, she showed no signs of strain among the features that he examined. He saw her eyelashes tremble.
“What are you looking at?” she whispered breathlessly.
“The most extraordinary view I’ll ever see,” he answered softly. “There couldn’t be any better way to begin a morning than to wake up and see your face beside mine.” And as he said it, his heart told him that she would never be his.
Her eyes were open. “Poor, silly Kestrel,” she reached out a hand and stroked the hair on his head gently. “Are you feeling better? I know yesterday was a difficult day for you.”
He wondered at the certainty of his heart’s conviction, and yet – even as he accepted that it was true – he felt only a vague sorry, not a wrenching sense of loss, even after all the months and miles of pursuit, the injuries and pain and conflict that his efforts to reach Moorin had produced.
“I’m better,” Kestrel agreed. He sat up. “I’m hungry,” he announced.
He saw Lake raise his head on the other side of Moorin, his eyes barely open. “If you would have eaten last night you wouldn’t be so hungry.
“I told them to leave a plate out for you by the fire,” Lake told Kestrel. “Go take a look and see if there’s anything you like. I’m going to get everyone up so that we can start the journey today. With a good day’s march we can reach the rest of the elves in the mountains by nightfall.”
Kestrel looked over at where Hierodule slept with her infant on her chest. “I don’t think she’ll be ready to travel so soon,” he protested.
“We’ll have a litter to carry her and her son. We’ve got lots of strong backs and arms and legs to share the work now,” Lake answered.
With nothing further to protest, Kestrel stood up.
“Oh, and we’ll get one of the spare shirts for you to wear too, unless you want to keep showing off your artwork,” Lake added.
“I’ll take it,” Kestrel answered, as he started to walk over to the fire. He saw a dried out heap of food upon a flat stone next to the fire, and squatted down as he sorted through it, picking out the bits he wanted. Within minutes he stood up, no longer hungry, and saw that all around him elves were standing, stretching, packing, all in anticipation of their hasty departure.
A male elf saw that Kestrel was finished eating, and approached him with a shirt in his outstretched hand. He made no comment as Kestrel took the shirt and pulled it on.
With the garment on, Kestrel walked over to see Hierodule, who was protesting the plan to carry her out on a litter. Hiram stood next to her, tenderly holding the baby boy, Canyon. As Kestrel saw the boy and thought of his name, he wondered how his imp friends were doing on their long journey back home.
“Kestrel,” Hiram spoke to him, “please tell Hierodule to accept that we have to carry her. She’s not going to be able to walk all day.”
“Why is she protesting?” Kestrel asked.
“She’s just not being sensible,” Hiram commented. “Would you go talk to her?”
Kestrel did talk to the
new mother, and persuaded her to accept the ride. Minutes later the whole group emerged from the opening in the hillside and began to walk around to the southside of the hill, then descended and began their journey.
“Maybe it’s just my imagination, but you’re starting to look a little like an elf, Kestrel,” Hierodule told him as they walked through the open lands. “Perhaps it’s just because we’re surrounded by so many elves,” she mused.
They walked all that day. The rain had cleared to the east, leaving sunshine and warm breezes that felt good, like a promise that spring would come again. When they stopped at midday to take a break and eat, the terrain was growing hillier, and low mountains were visible on the near horizon.
“I’ll take a turn,” Kestrel told one of the bearers who had carried Hierodule’s litter for half the morning, so that when they resumed their trip in the afternoon, Kestrel was with the new mother, who was nursing her child once again.
“Lake tells us that you are an elf,” one of the other walking elves in the back of the procession said to Kestrel. “You do not look like an elf.”
“I am mostly elven, but a doctor cut my ears and eyebrows to change my appearance, so that I could walk among the men of Uniontown,” Kestrel explained.
“I do not know why anyone would want to do that,” the other man said with a grimace. “But I am glad that you did, so that our Tyndell Span has returned to us, and we can hope that there is a better future ahead.
“You are a fearsome warrior,” the man added. “Lake tells us that you have used the same great powers we saw other times.
“I think that most of us are afraid of you, after what we saw you do to our friends, and especially when we see those dark eyes of yours,” he finished.
Kestrel was silent, contemplating the fact that elves feared him because he had been used by the temple energy, and contemplating the comment on the color of his eyes. He had forgotten that Moorin had told him that the color had changed after the great unleashing of the powers in Uniontown.
“Is there something shiny I could look at?” he asked another elf nearby.
“What do you mean? What do you need?” the elf asked in confusion.
“I want a mirror, or something reflective,” Kestrel explained.
The elf trotted ahead, and returned in seconds, holding a wide, polished bracelet.
“Hold it up in front of my face please,” Kestrel requested, his hands carrying the litter. “I want to see my eyes.”
The elf wordlessly did as asked, and Kestrel sucked in breath between his teeth is dismay as he saw that his eyes were totally dark. There was no white, no purple iris, no distinguishable pupil – only an expanse of black from the upper lid to the lower.
“Thank you, that’s all,” Kestrel said to the elf, who trotted away to return the ornament to its owner.
“You didn’t know?” Hierodule asked, looking back at him.
He shook his head, and they traveled on for several seconds of silence. “It’s gotten bigger after every time you’ve used those powers,” Hierodule told him. “At first just the purple changed to black, but it’s grown outwards.”
By late afternoon they were following a well-defined path that followed the west and south sides of the growing hills, as they entered the beginnings of the mountains. The slopes were gentler and the heights were lower than those the Water Mountains had intimidated Kestrel with. The landscape was no longer burnt out, but the trees that grew were relatively small and scrubby, adapted to a drier climate than Kestrel was accustomed to.
A pair of elves exchanged places with Kestrel and the other litter bearer, freeing him to walk ahead to the front of the file of travelers, where Moorin was behind Lake.
“What’s up ahead?” Kestrel asked. “What are your plans for tonight?”
“At the rate we’re going, we should reach a gnome village before sunset,” Lake answered. “We’ll spend the night there, then tomorrow we’ll head further into the mountains to where our villages are located. We have a wide valley of our own, where there’s a stream and running water. We can rest there a few days, and see how everyone feels at that point before we move on.”
“On to the coast, to catch a ship north?” Kestrel confirmed.
“If that is what everyone wants to do, that is what we will arrange,” Lake agreed.
Kestrel moved past him and went out in front of the group, walking ahead of the others, seeking more solitude. He was clearly an object of fear for the elves of Lake’s patrol, as they shied away from him whenever they saw him coming; he had no wish to impose his unwanted company upon the travelers.
As he moved ahead, the sun set lower in the sky, and when he rounded a bend in the path he lost sight of the others behind him. He had just made the decision to stop and wait for them when a dozen gnomes suddenly appeared, seeming to rise from the ground all around him. Each held a spear or a large heavy rock, their arms cocked and ready to let their weapons fly.
Kestrel’s mind raced to remember what Corrant had told him, when last the gnomish god had visited him. There was a ceremony Kestrel could request, one that could help him to find the path to great victory, he recollected. He had been visited by the deity when he had ruminated on the apparent portal the Viathins held on the mountains, the way they used to enter the world of the Inner Seas.
“I greet you, children of Corrant,” Kestrel spoke loudly and formally. He felt a sudden spark of hope. He had grown focused on simply finding a way back north with Moorin and the water skin; he had shoved Corrant’s vague promise off to the side, but now suddenly – with the gnomes around him – he had a rekindling of hope.
“I greet you, and ask for your help,” he told the gnomes.
Their arms dropped as they lowered their weapons. “How do you come to know our language, evil-eyed man?” one of the gnomes stepped forth and asked.
“I lived among the gnomes of the Water Mountains one winter,” Kestrel replied. “They took me into their village and taught me the language. I learned of their beautiful music, and I learned to make the pipes they used as instruments.”
There were looks of skeptical disbelief exchanged among the gnomes, as Kestrel sought to prove his peaceful intent.
“But I am here now, for other reasons,” he hastily added. “Corrant has told me that you can help me in my battle to lift the great darkness from our land.”
There were more wondering glances, and a few murmurs.
“You may know our god’s name, but it seems unlikely that the great protector would speak to one such as you,” the gnome responded. “We have been watching you for some time, since you left the elves behind and walked alone to reach us. Why are you shunned by your companions?”
“I come to you and request the Garrant Spark,” Kestrel answered.
The gnomes were silent, though a few took a step back in surprise.
“What are you talking about? These are nonsense words,” the spokesman replied.
“Corrant spoke to me on this journey. He told me there was a way to defeat the Viathins, the evil monsters who swim in the waters and control the minds of others. He told me that the Garrant Spark would help me in a quest to find a way to defeat them, and lift the darkness from our hearts and minds.”
“You use a name that you cannot possibly know, and even if you do, you cannot possibly understand the meaning of the word. There has been no Garrant Spark performed in hundreds of years,” the gnome told him.
“And you have no partner, no one who would undergo the agony with you,” he added.
Kestrel stood in confusion, wondering what the Garrant Spark was; what could it be, how awful was it that it was ancient and unpracticed, required a partner, and involved agony.
“But Corrant directed me to carry it out with his people here, and so I must,” he answered after a moment of long consideration. “And so you must carry it out.”
Just then Lake and Moorin appeared around the bend behind the confrontation.
“You’ve f
ound our allies, I see,” Lake shouted as he approached. The rest of the group trailed behind.
“Are they allies?” Moorin asked as she and Lake reached Kestrel, and she felt the tension in the meeting.
“Yes, certainly,” Lake answered.
“I hope you’re right,” Kestrel said in elvish.
“So you speak their language and our language; do you know your own language at all, human?” the gnome asked Kestrel.
“I do,” Kestrel said. “Even though I am an elf, and was raised as an elf, I have learned the human language.”
“We will move on to our village, and discuss this in a conclave,” the gnome told Kestrel, as the rest of the elves, plus Hiram and Hierodule, came to a stop upon reaching the spot where Kestrel and the gnomes conversed.
With that the gnomes converged on the trail, and began to move forward. Kestrel stood aside as Lake led his group of elves after them, while Moorin stood by Kestrel. “Is everything okay?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Kestrel answered. The energy from the temple was uneasy, he could tell. The mention of the Garrant Spark had caused it to cease its motions within his soul. Kestrel took comfort in the fact that the ceremony seemed to be something adverse to the interests of the alien. “I am not in control of my destiny, or even less so than I thought I was in the past.”
“I don’t think anyone who is around you is in control of their own destiny Kestrel. You’re like a whirlpool pulling upon the fates of everyone who comes in contact with you,” she told him. She placed a hand on his arm to let him know she meant no harm by the comment, then separated from him to begin to walk forward with Hierodule, as her litter went past.
Kestrel took his own spot in line behind the last elf, and walked silently for the next half hour, until the group descended into a small dell hidden among the hills, where a gnomish village was lit by a bonfire burning in the center of the community. The gnomes went to the left, while the elves all entered a pair of buildings on the right. Kestrel and Hiram helped Hierodule to her feet, so that she could walk about the building, and then they accompanied her outside, where they saw several gnomes sitting cross-legged near the fire.
The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 05 - Journey to Uniontown Page 25
