He stopped at the top of a narrow, dark set of stairs. They were the servants’ stairs, built to be discreet and out of sight, with a door to close them off, and Kestrel used them to cautiously go down a floor, to where he heard voices speaking.
“You say there were imps attacking you?” a man’s voice asked contemptuously.
“Yes sir,” another voice dutifully answered.
“And you hadn’t killed the filthy half-breed by then?”
“We weren’t out of sight; we were waiting until we got inside the gardener’s shed, but the imps ambushed us before then,” the second voice answered.
“Did he follow you here?” the man in charge asked.
“No sir. I’m sure not,” came the answer, part of a conversation taking place somewhere very near Kestrel. He cautiously cracked the door open and saw that the two were standing just outside his door, alone on a stairwell landing.
Kestrel burst the door open, flung his knife at one of the men, then swung his staff and knocked the other unconscious. He quickly pulled the two bodies into the stairwell with him to hide them.
“Stillwell, you and Canyon go see if you can find out what room the girls are in, then come tell me when you locate them. When we all get there, then you can carry them back to safety with Odare,” Kestrel plotted. He opened the door and let the two imps float out and begin their scouting trip around the house.
There was a wave of shouts a second later, with running footsteps and shouting. “I think they’ve been noticed, Kestrel friend,” Killcen said drily.
A man went running past the partially open door, and Kestrel flicked his knife out. Seconds later they heard the man’s body tumble down the stairs.
“Lucretia, return,” Kestrel called.
“We found them, Kestrel rescuer,” Stillwater said breathlessly as he reappeared.
“Where are they?” Kestrel asked.
“Downstairs there is a long hallway, and they are in the third room on the right,” Stillwater said. “Canyon remains there.”
“The three of you go rescue the girls one at a time, and take them to where Odare is, and tell them I said to wait there,” Kestrel instructed.
“They do not understand us; they are afraid of us,” Stillwater said. “They shout at us.”
Kestrel grunted in frustration.
“I’ll go down there right now,” he said. “I’ll meet you there. Go with him Killcen.”
Kestrel burst the door open and started to run down the stairs to the ground floor. A man appeared at the foot of the stairs holding a knife, and Kestrel threw Lucretia. As he got to the bottom of the stairs an arrow hit him in the chest. He staggered backwards, called his knife, and sent the knife flying again.
He called it back as he started in search of the hallway, and two elves attacked him, but he wielded his staff and left them both behind him, incapacitated, as he found the hallway, then counted doors on the right. When he opened the door another elf attacked him from behind, and cut him in the back with a knife before Kestrel thrust his staff between his assailant’s legs and tripped the attacker up. He was gasping in pain from the searing cut as he slammed the door shut behind him, and turned to see the two women’s forms rolled up in tapestries, the material pulled down far enough to expose their eyes, while the three sprites waited in the air.
The door opened, and Kestrel threw his knife, then called it to return.
“These sprites are my friends. They will take you to safety. Wait there and I’ll join you,” Kestrel called. “Do you understand?” he asked.
They both nodded their heads, and Kestrel sent the imps to Lucretia first. The door opened again, and Kestrel swung his staff at the arm that thrust a sword within, then slammed the door shut.
He saw the door shudder as the attackers started to try to break it down. “We’ll take you now, Kestrel,” Stillwater called moments later, and suddenly he felt the small bodies surround him and then the noise of the room was gone as he entered the dimension of nothingness. The grey void seemed to swirl with shades of darkness, and the time they hung in it seemed grossly extended until they finally emerged not in the apartment but on the roof of the tower.
“Our pardon, Kestrel, but the strange energy in the sunlight has interfered with our travels once again,” Killcen apologized.
Kestrel took off stiffly running across the roof, and returned to his room a minute later.
“Now, let’s set you free,” he said as he pulled his knife out and began to slice the material away from the women, then cut the ropes around their hands.
He set Lucretia free first, and she reached up to hug him tearfully. “What in the world are you?” she whispered. “Go help Aurelia,” she said.
Kestrel started to cut the material away from his other rescued hostage, then stopped. The woman was older, several years older than Aurelia. He resumed sawing away at the cloth. “You’re the princess, aren’t you, the one who ages during the day?” he asked as he cut her bonds, then chaffed her wrists to help restore the circulation.
“I am,” she said simply, staring into his eyes as he knelt next to her, his hands and hers in contact. “Thank you for your bold rescue,” she said as the imps came floating in, drawing her eyes as she spoke to Kestrel
“Let me give you something,” he said as he rose. He stepped across the room to where Odare lay on his bed, blissfully asleep under the power of the healing water.
The princess had numerous streaks of gray in her hair, and crow’s feet wrinkles around her eyes. Her hands had light age spots, and Kestrel was astonished at how much the girl had aged in such a relatively short time.
"Your highness, please take a drink of this water," Kestrel offered the healing spring water bag to the aging woman. "It may help your condition."
"I've tried every possible cure," she stated matter-of-factly. "There is nothing that will help my condition except time, and that outcome is predetermined."
"Please, as a favor, take a sip," he implored gently, and held the bag out.
Without comment she took the bag and took a drink, then passed it back to him.
"Will you be safe if I leave you here?" Kestrel asked.
"Two days ago I thought I was safe anywhere on the palace grounds," Lucretia replied. "Now I'm not sure."
"I could stay here with you, or I could ask the imps to take you someplace safe," Kestrel pondered aloud what to do next.
"You shouldn't stay away from the competition on our account," the princess said. "Lord Ripken needs a champion who can win this tournament and dent Exmoor's invincible reputation. That might help derail my foolish brother's infatuation with Exmoor's power."
“Stillwater, could you take them all – Odare and the two elves – to the healing spring today, and keep them safe there? We might not be able to bring them back until tomorrow,” he turned to the imp to ask.
“The sun troubles are increasing,” the blue imp replied. “We should be able to make the trips today, but tomorrow it will become more difficult, especially the later in the day we wait. And there are likely to be no trips for several days after that, until the sun finally settles down.”
“If we keep them away from here for the night, and then bring them back tomorrow morning, would that work?” Kestrel tried to devise a gambit that would suit multiple needs.
“We can carry them away today, and if we do not wait until too late in the day tomorrow, I believe we can bring them back safely,” Stillwater agreed.
“I will call you tomorrow morning, and you can bring them to me,” Kestrel decided.
“Kestrel, I think I understand you two speaking to each other,” Lucretia interjected. “Do you think we will be in danger doing this traveling activity with the imps? I did not enjoy the experience we just had.”
“I know that traveling with the imps is not pleasant, but neither is it usually dangerous. From what Stillwater tells me, you will be safe to go away tonight, and then come back in the morning tomorrow. And the place I would have
them take you to, it is a magic spring whose waters heal all injuries and illnesses that I know of. I hope that if the princess soaks in the waters overnight, her disease might be cured,” he glanced over at the woman whose appearance had changed so much so quickly.
“For that, I would take the risk. Aurelia has been my truest friend since we were children, and she is the rock of steadiness in the royal family. If she were healthy, Exmoor’s plots would be cut off at the knees,” Lucretia told him.
“Let’s get some food and blankets for you to take with you tonight,” Kestrel suggested.
They cautiously left the apartment, Kestrel carrying the still-sleeping Odare, and went to Lucretia’s apartment in the tower, where they gathered goods and supplies, while Kestrel explained the imps’ enjoyment of the water. And then he stood and watched the imps carry their passengers away, one by one, leaving him alone once again, relieved to know the women were safe, but wondering where Tewks was as he hurried back down to the ground and started to jog towards the tournament grounds once again.
When he arrived back at Lord Ripken’s stand on the grounds he saw Tewks and Targus and Ripken all wearing concerned expressions, until Ripken spotted Kestrel and smiled warmly as he waved a welcome.
“I’ve lost my bow and arrows,” Kestrel told the trio as he stood in front of the stand and looked up at their grinning faces.
“We thought we had lost our archer; a bow and arrows can be replaced, but a competitor like you is one-of-a-kind,” Ripken told him. “And after Tewks was careless enough to lose you, he’s especially glad you’re back,” Ripken looked at the lad. “We told him he would have to replace you in the tournament,” he paused, “by being a target!”
The boy grimaced. “The Exmoor goons were chasing me all over the place!
“I’ll go get a new bow and arrows for you right now,” he volunteered, then disappeared from the stand as he ducked out the back.
“Be careful Kestrel, the atmosphere is very tense,” Targus bent low to speak so that only they plus Lord Ripken could hear. “The princess has disappeared, and the royal family is very upset. Exmoor had bands of men roaming the festival grounds menacing others. Tewks has told us you’ve had some run-ins with them already.”
“It’s been the most unusual tournament I’ve been to,” Kestrel replied. He thought of the assassin’s arrow in Graylee, and the harassing merchant in Center Trunk. “Yes, it’s been different,” he summed up as Tewks returned with a bow and arrows.
“Are you safe sitting here?” Kestrel asked Ripken.
“I’m in the open, and there are a number of men discreetly stationed in the area,” the nobleman answered. “Now you go to the competition and keep shooting the way you’ve done so far,” the nobleman said. He reached forward and clasped his hand on Kestrel’s shoulder with a smile. “Good luck, not that you need luck, not with all the abilities and allies you have,” he said, and sat back, as Tewks hastily returned with a battered-looking bow and a quiver of hastily-procured arrows.
Tewks led Kestrel to a different competition field, one that was larger than those he had shot at previously, a wide field with many more targets, able to hold two score or more archers it appeared. “Don’t worry; there will be ten winners from this round who will compete tomorrow in the rest of the competition. Not that it will matter since you will be the best archer anyway,” the boy explained. “Good luck,” he offered as he backed away from Kestrel and the competitors who milled around their stations awaiting instruction.
Kestrel stood alone, waiting and wool-gathering. He hoped that the two women and the imps had comfortably traveled through the troubled ways that the imps used. The late summer was moving on, and autumn would come soon, followed by the winter, when no travel by the imps or sprites would be possible, and Kestrel would be left to his own resources in his battle against the Viathins and Uniontown.
With that thought, for the first time, Kestrel wondered if the machinations and trouble that were roiling the court in the Northern Forest were part of the Viathin troubles that had caused so much destruction and grief in the Inner Seas. It amazed him that he had not ever thought to tie the two together, but the logic seemed unimpeachable. Exmoor could very well be an agent of the Viathins, working to cause turmoil and to bring down the ruling family of the kingdom.
Kestrel pondered the value of securing the skin of water of Decimindion to bring it north; he knew that spreading that liquor around the court would help him determine whether the Viathins’ evil was at the root of the problems afflicting the court. The Viathins and the comet, he corrected himself, convinced that the comet had in some way caused the princess’s illness.
“Contestants to your marks,” he heard the judge for the contest call. Kestrel made a promise to himself that at the next available opportunity, he would ask the imps to take him back to Graylee, and he would fetch the water skin of the protective water back to Kirevee, so that the protection could be administered. It would make a profound difference in the dynamics of the court, he was sure.
“Pull your strings,” the judge called, and Kestrel raised his bow. He hadn’t tested it at all, had no way to judge its effectiveness or strength. His first few shots would be adventures, tests of the bow that would allow him to judge its effectiveness and adjust to overcome its deficits.
He released the first shot upon the judge’s command and felt the weakness of the shot. The string was too soft, and the wood was not stiff enough. His shot started to drop in velocity and path early in its flight, and struck the bottom of the outermost ring.
Kestrel stood still, his shoulders drooping momentarily as he looked at the embarrassing result, then he picked out another arrow. He felt good that at least the arrow hadn’t drifted left or right; despite the slow velocity it carried, it hadn’t suffered any ill effects from the wind.
Slowly, Kestrel took aim, lifting his target several inches higher, and pulling the bow just a little farther, until he sensed that he was in danger of putting too much stress on the wood. “Please be with this shot Kai and Kere and Morph,” he mumbled a prayer to his goddesses and added the elven god of speed as well, then released his grip on the arrow, and watched it take the same virtually parabolic path on its way to the target, starting high, then cresting and falling as it decelerated and approached the target.
But it struck the center spot, and firmly held its place. Kestrel smiled in relief. “Thank you gods,” he mumbled again, then pulled out a third arrow, and took his time preparing that shot as well.
His results were sloppy. Even when he had the characteristics of the bow figured out, the irregular character of the arrows threw a new variable into his efforts. Halfway through the supply of arrows, Kestrel was below the minimum score to qualify, as every third or fourth arrow seemed to have an escape plan of its own that caused it to veer far from his expected target.
Kestrel slowed down his shooting even more, as he began to take more time inspecting his arrows, discarding the worst and trying to enhance the best. As he slowly made his way through his quiver, many others finished shooting, and a few started collecting their arrows, taking them down, so that Kestrel could not judge how close he was to the leaders, to know if he would qualify for the final round or not. He felt his shoulders grow tense, as he drew his last three arrows, unsure of how close his margin of error was.
He carefully fired each shot, and watched the first with satisfaction, the second with anguish, and the third and final shot with a satisfied whoop as the arrow landed in the center of his target.
He turned around, and saw the judge and three others standing behind him.
“You will go on to the next round; you’re the last qualifier,” the judge told him with a nod of approval. Kestrel pumped his fist and jogged to the end of the field, where he gathered up his arrows.
He was pleased. And he realized he was tired and hungry as well. The day had been a long series of continuous battles and challenges; despite his hasty dose of spring water his shoulder
still ached from his injury and his ongoing activity, and he wished he could just escape from it all, perhaps by returning to the healing spring as a place of refuge. But the imps were challenged by the strange conditions caused by the sun, the sun that was setting in the west, and Kestrel didn’t want to call upon them to make an extra trip. Instead he trudged through the emptying competition field, and found that Tewks was waiting for him at the otherwise empty stand of Lord Ripken.
“I’ll need a different bow tomorrow, and better arrows,” Kestrel told the boy wearily. “Can you get them?”
“Of course. I’ve got all night to find something better, don’t you worry. You go on to Lord Ripken’s home and I’ll see you there,” Tewks said.
Kestrel waved, and walked into the gloom, but without any intention of going to Lord Ripken’s, or of going back to his own apartment high in the eastern tower, at least not right away. Instead he walked in search of a quiet tavern where he could eat a meal, not be recognized, and sit back to watch people while he tried to figure out all that was going to happen tomorrow.
He left the palace, but received a pass from the guard to allow him to return through the gates to the palace grounds, and he wandered out into the city.
Chapter 14 – The Real Moorin
Kestrel went in search of a tavern where he could watch entertaining people, without having to worry about drunkards who might fall upon one another in violent fights at the less reputable establishments. He wanted a place that was neither the place of the nobles, nor the place where the dregs would drink, and he walked for half an hour until he saw a well-lit tavern within which he could hear a woman’s voice singing a ballad.
He went inside, and took an empty seat at the end of the public room farthest from the singer. She was a matronly woman who possessed an extraordinary voice, and the half of the room that was filled with customers was the half that was closest to her. The audience sat and listened and enjoyed the songs she sang.
The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 04 - A Foreign Heart Page 26
