“Your great sacrifice will take a toll on you, but it will also save you,” the voice echoed hollowly, as the last of the glow faded away, and the small group stood in solemn shock at the bottom of the canyon. There was a splash and a ripple across the surface of the dark water, and no other sound.
“What do we do?” Putienne whispered.
“We go back up out of this canyon,” Kestrel answered just a decibel more loudly. He revealed the words of the gnomes’ god to those in the group who did not speak the language, then, after the loose translation he led his party back to the surface above. He wanted time to walk and to think and to overcome the sense of fearful dread that the god’s warning had planted within his soul. Everything the god had said had been vague, useless for trying to avoid any specific threat or trouble; yet it all was troubling, a prophetic statement that challenging and threatening times were ahead, and that Kestrel would have to make some unhappy choice – sacrifice something that would be painful.
He shuddered involuntarily as he reached the top of the canyon trail, and he turned to look back down, as Wren and Putty came up beside him.
“We’ll be with you,” Wren said comfortingly, as Putty wrapped her arm around his back and laid her head on his shoulder; the two close friends comforted him, and he smiled gently.
“A god of the gnomes may be a god, but he is still only of the gnomes,” Killcen spoke up. “There cannot be anything that your great abilities and ours cannot overcome,” the imp said.
The ground rattled and quaked, and the elves held onto one another for support as they swayed from the tremor.
“Perhaps we shall not say such things in the god’s own lands,” Stillwater said mildly once the movement had ended.
Kestrel led the troubled group back to the village, and when they arrived, they found a dozen gnomish maidens waiting for Kestrel, all holding their pipes.
“Will you teach us the music you played?” one of them, bolder than the others, asked. “We ask for music only,” she clarified firmly. Kestrel stifled a smile as he recollected the subtle meaning that a maiden’s pipe music implied in a courting relationship.
“Let’s go down to the cabin and we can play music there. I left my pipes there,” Kestrel reported.
The gnomish girls began to giggle.
“You want to take all of us to the honeymoon cabin?” one of them laughed.
Kestrel blushed. “I will go get my pipes and bring them back. You wait here for me,” he changed his plan, then led his friends back to the cabin, as Wren translated the exchange for the others.
“So you’re going to go socialize with all the gnome girls, Kestrel-rogue?” Mulberry asked as they walked down to the cabin and he explained his plan.
“I’m only going to play music with them,” Kestrel replied firmly, as he picked up his musical instrument. “The rest of you can wait here and relax, or come up to the village and listen to the beautiful music,” he told them, then opened the door, stood at the threshold, and saw no one move to join him.
“I’ll go up on my own,” he said in as dignified a voice as he could, then left the cabin and returned to the village.
He and the gnome musicians played their music for the next few hours, until the sun started to set. Kestrel played the two tunes he could remember from the Water Mountain gnomes, songs that the southern gnomes enjoyed for their similarity of style and taste to the music they played in their southern homes. Kestrel managed to slowly convert a few human and elven musical pieces to the pipes as well, but the gnomes only found them to be mildly interesting in an academic way.
The smell of savory cooking meat began to pervade the village, and Kestrel finally stopped the musical gathering to follow his nose. He and a pair of gnome maidens who followed him found a whole deer being roasted over a deep stone basin full of glowing embers, as men and women prepared various other dishes for the evening feast.
Pleased to see the generous meal, Kestrel returned to the cabin, where only a pair of imps were present with Putienne and Wren.
“The others went home to visit,” Stillwater said abashedly, not anticipating Kestrel’s return.
“There’s no problem with that,” Kestrel said. In the excitement of the arrival at the familiar village, he hadn’t considered the possibility of traveling away from the gnomes through the expedience of the imps’ abilities. He could return to his own home at Oaktown later that night, he realized, and wondered if there were any issues he should address there.
“The food for the meal here is almost ready,” he added. “We can go up soon and eat with our hosts.”
Putienne immediately rose from where she lay on the bed, and Wren put down the bow whose strings she had been tightening.
The imps who were away returned moments later, so that Kestrel led his full contingent back to the village. Upon their arrival they were greeted with a rousing fanfare played on a dozen sets of maidens’ pipes.
“You arranged this, didn’t you?” Wren asked Kestrel in a low voice as they stood and listened to the pipes drone through the music.
“I wish that I did,” he grinned, and then the flourish ended, and they joined with the village inhabitants as they all went to the site of the roasted meat, and enjoyed a great community feast.
“In the morning,” the leader of the village elders addressed Kestrel as the last bites of food were consumed, “we will send a guide with you to make your way to the village of Proetec. You will need to leave early, so I cannot advise you to spend the night with the maidens, practicing music,” he smiled indulgently at Kestrel.
“The maidens would wear me out with all their music, and my own friends would be tired of our efforts,” Kestrel agreed. “We will make plans to make music some other time.”
“Perhaps when you return,” the elder said.
“Perhaps then,” Kestrel agreed with a smile, though he did not know if he would ever return to that village.
“Thank you all for your hospitality. The imps and the elves are here as your friends and guests, and we appreciate the great kindness you have shown, especially for sharing your beautiful young maidens,” he spoke to the group. “We hope that the things we do will make you proud,” he added to polite applause and nodding heads.
“Let us go back to our cabin,” he turned to his friends and spoke. They looked at him with puzzled expressions, all but Wren, making him realize that he had forgotten to switch languages. He gave a rueful laugh, then changed back to his elven language, letting the others know that it was time to return to the cabin.
“Friends,” he spoke to them all, “I know we just got here, but since the imps have demonstrated that they can flit home and back here so easily,” there was a stirring among the imps, “I wonder if we all might go to our homes for this night, and then come back here early in the morning to resume our trip?”
“Kestrel-surprise? Do you jest?” Mulberry asked.
“I do not. There are enough beds in my home at Oaktown for all of us to sleep there, while all of you may return to your own homes in Blackfriars, and our hosts the gnomes need never know that we were gone,” he answered.
“We’ll go to your home?” Putienne asked. “Where I was before?”
“You’ve taken the girl to your home before?” Wren asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Stop it!” Kestrel said. “She was a yeti when we went there before.”
The imps began to close in around them.
“Away we go, Kestrel-friend,” Acanthus said, and then the entire group left the gnome honeymoon cabin empty and dark for the night.
Chapter 4
It was late in the evening when they arrived at the manor in Oaktown.
“Thank you friends,” Kestrel told the imps. “I’ll call you when we’re ready to return in the morning,” he told them. There was a flurry of farewells spoken as the imps flickered away, and then the three elven adventurers were left alone, in Kestrel’s own chambers, he realized.
“Let’s go to the
kitchen. There’s always someone awake there,” he suggested to Wren and Putienne. He opened the door and led them through the dim hallways to the kitchen, where Remy and a chamber maid were sitting close together, sharing a piece of cake at a small table.
“My lord!” Remy stuttered, surprised by Kestrel’s unexpected entrance. “Cook said I could have this,” he added quickly as he gestured towards the cake.
“Remy, it’s good to see you and your friend,” Kestrel replied. “We’ve just arrived for the night, and I don’t doubt your right to share the cake with your pretty friend,” he made the silent girl blush. “Are there rooms where my friends can spend the night? We just want to get a good night’s sleep, and then we’ll be gone in the morning.”
“Right down the hall from your own room, my lord,” Remy replied, as he belated rose to his feet and stood at attention. “Would you or your friends like anything to eat? I know where cook hid the rest of the cake.”
“No, we just had a big meal with the gnomes,” Putty spoke up.
“Gnomes? Did you say gnomes?” Remy asked. “Have we met before? You seem familiar, sort of, but not exactly,” he turned his attention to Putty, studying the half-elven girl closely.
“This is Putienne. The last time she was here, she was a yeti,” Kestrel answered. “So you’ve met her before.”
“She’s not a yeti now!” Remy said, speaking with wide eyes.
“Ouch!” he barked a second later as the chambermaid kicked his shin.
“Let us show you the way to your rooms,” he said. He lit a candle and placed it in a lantern, then led the way back down the hall they had walked along from Kestrel’s room.
“This room and this room are the best for the guests,” he opened two doors across the hall from Kestrel’s room.
“They have fresh linens,” the girl beside him spoke up for the first time. “I just cleaned them myself yesterday.”
“Thank you,” Kestrel told the pair of youngsters. “You go back to your cake and have a good time.
“Ladies, you each get a good night’s sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning,” Kestrel told Wren and Putty, as he hugged them both and watch them gratefully go into their respective rooms.
“Did you come with imps? Were you really with gnomes?” Remy asked Kestrel quietly as the two of them stood in his own doorway a moment later.
“Yes and yes. We were with the gnomes for dinner, and we’ll go back to see them again tomorrow,” Kestrel answered. “But we may be back here again some night soon,” he added.
“Now, good night Remy,” Kestrel told his companion. As he closed his door, he heard Remy and the chamber maid walking down the hall.
“He told me they were with gnomes. Of course they used our imps to travel. I’ve done that myself – traveled with the imps – a time or two when I been helping his lordship. It’s quite an experience, let me tell you,” Remy spoke in a worldly tone to impress his young friend as they went on their own way, and Kestrel smiled as the door closed.
He pulled off his boots laid back in his bed, and felt happy to spend a night back in his Oaktown manor, even if it was only a few short hours stolen from his journey.
He awoke with a start as a gentle tapping on his shoulder ended his sound sleep.
“Kestrel, a man wanted to come in your room, but I scared him away,” Putienne told him, as she sat down beside him.
“What man?” Kestrel asked.
“An elf, with hair that sticks out,” she motioned with her hands to indicate a man with bushy hair. “It was white hair. I heard him in the hall, and I saw him at your door, but I turned back into a yeti and scared him away.”
Presumably Whyte had intended to see Kestrel, only to be interrupted by a yeti, he grinned as he visualized the scene.
“Thank you for protecting me,” he straightened his smile and thanked his friend. He sat up and yawned as he stretched.
“You go wake Wren up and then go to the kitchen and eat some breakfast. I’ll go try to find out who wanted in here,” he said to the girl, then pushed himself up out of bed.
“You were looking for me?” he said to the steward a few minutes later, when he found the man in his office.
“That is a formidable protector you have,” Whyte told Kestrel in a calm voice. The two of them shook hands warmly, then sat and went over several pages of notes and questions Whyte had written down concerning a number of topics of estate management.
“And send a bag of pearls to Commander Casimo in Firheng,” Kestrel instructed. “Tell him to send them to Castona, the trader in Estone, and have two necklaces made with the pearls,” he instructed. “Then have Castona ship the pearls to the palace in Kirevee in the Northern Forest, to the attention of the Princess Aurelia, with a note directing one necklace to be a wedding gift to her, and the other as a gift to her friend Lucretia.”
“Lucretia, the worldly friend who visited here with you during one of your recent jaunts?” Whyte asked with a raised eyebrow.
“The very same,” Kestrel replied.
“I better go find the ladies and return to the southern mountains,” he said after several minutes of further conversation about other matters at Oaktown. “I don’t want to be late for today’s activities.”
“You’re a remarkable individual sir,” Whyte commented. He began to walk with Kestrel back towards the kitchen. “I hope you’ll be able to spend some time here in the Eastern Forest helping with our own governance someday soon.”
“I hope that better times are on their way without me,” Kestrel told him, thinking of Hampus, who was likely to have reached Center Trunk already with his treaty and report about the Northern Elves.
“Let us hope so,” Whyte said as they entered the kitchen. Wren and Putienne sat at a small table, eating breakfast, as Wren picked out the roasted crickets from her meal and laid them at the side of the plate.
“I insisted they should eat in the dining room, being your lordship’s guests and all, but they wouldn’t listen to me,” the cook complained. “So here they are, sitting where they shouldn’t.”
Kestrel picked one of Wren’s discarded crickets from the edge of her plate and ate it. “You’ll have to forgive them this time. I am constantly trying to teach them to be better,” he sympathized with the servant, then quickly stepped out of Wren’s reach.
“Let me grab some breakfast as well, and then we’ll call the imps. Are there any supplies you think we need to take back with us?” Kestrel spoke to the two women at the table.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Putty said to Whyte. “I just wanted Kestrel to have more sleep,” she explained.
“That was very considerate of you,” the steward answered graciously.
“I don’t know of anything,” Wren answered Kestrel’s question. “We’re going to be climbing higher mountains?” she asked.
“That’s what the gnomes say,” Kestrel agreed, as he began to eat a piece of toast, then grabbed a loaf of bread and stuffed it in his pack.
“But the imps can just bring us back here at any time if we need anything?” she asked further.
“I don’t see why not,” Kestrel affirmed. “It’s going to be traveling in a style I’ve never considered before.
“Stillwater, Stillwater, Stillwater,” he called the commander of his impish squad.
A pair of seconds passed, and then the entire group of imps appeared in the space near the kitchen ceiling.
“Kestrel-friend, you should have the grease cleaned from the top of these shelves,” Odare commented, making the cook’s face turn bright red.
“All in good time, imp inspector,” Kestrel nonchalantly replied. “Are all of you in good spirits this morning?”
“We are indeed, lord Kestrel,” Killcen replied. “But we expected you to call us much earlier, at sunrise.”
“We are in the east, and the sun rises earlier here than it does in the southern mountains,” Kestrel answered.
“How can that be?” the cook asked. “The sun
rises in the morning everywhere, doesn’t it?”
Kestrel started to answer, then paused. “Perhaps,” he decided the point wasn’t one worth explaining.
“At any rate, we’re all ready to go, if your squad will do us the honors,” Kestrel spoke to Stillwater as he hastily grabbed a pair of carrots from the counter, while the cook watched with lips pursed in silent disapproval.
“I won’t take anything else this morning, I promise,” Kestrel grinned at the man, as the imps descended, and then the whole group departed from the Eastern Forest, passed through the suspended grayness of the nether regions, and returned to the cabin in the land of the gnomes, where a faint pink light shone through the windows.
“Sunrise is just happening,” Wren said with satisfaction.
There was a quiet knock on the door.
“Come in,” Kestrel called in gnomish, and a trio of gnomes entered the small room.
“It’s good to see everyone up and ready so early,” the village leader commented. “This young gnome is going to be your trail master. His name is Bradstree.”
“Good morning Bradstree, and thank you for your service,” Kestrel said politely, bowing to the newly introduced gnome. He appeared to be slender by the standards of the gnomes, but was so covered in layers of clothing that his real shape was impossible to determine.
“Will they go dressed like that?” Bradstree asked the village elder.
“They will start out that way. It will be your duty to know when to turn them back,” the elder gnome said.
“Let’s get going,” Wren spoke up, using the gnomes’ own language, impatient to be moving.
“We did not know that you spoke the words of our people!” the second elder said in surprise.
“I’ve only learned it recently,” Wren replied.
And with that, the group trailed out of the cabin, into the darkness of the forest, where the light from the sunrise was only beginning to penetrate. They strolled up the path to the village, and in the center of the village, where a few men and women were already beginning to carry out chores, the elders bid them farewell.
An Unexpected Deity (Book 7) Page 4
