The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 04 - A Foreign Heart

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “Raise your arrows,” he called loudly, having explained the rules.

  There was a rustling of sleeves as arms came into position, and then silently locked into readiness.

  ‘Release,” the judge spoke the one word, making it seem anticlimactic, while there was a sudden whisking of the dozens of arrows that left the bows of their shooters and flew towards the targets set fifty yards away.

  Kestrel’s arrow flew through the air along with the rest of the swarm of shafts. He pulled put his second arrow and shot it before the first had even struck the target, then pulled out another, and as he looked at the target and fired the third, he saw that the first two arrows were already quivering in their spots inside the center of the target.

  He grinned. The bow seemed to bring out some inexplicable confidence that caused him to fire every arrow with a cavalier expectation of success, and the expectations were being borne out. He fired the third arrow then pulled out the fourth, and fired and pulled the fifth and fired.

  Every arrow was in the center of the target. He was halfway done with the first round of the contest, and he felt that he could hit any target he wanted. He looked up at the comet and momentarily imagined knocking it from the sky, and then he looked at the grim-faced Exmoor sitting in his box on the side, and he considered sending an arrow towards the ruthless miner. He looked at Ripken’s stand and saw Tewks grinning with delight.

  Princess Aurelia waved at him as his gaze shifted, then he saw Ruelin scowl at him, and he turned back to the contest at hand. He felt reckless now, and fired two more arrows to nearly fill his center spot. Other competitors were struggling to keep pace; none had shot six arrows yet, let along seven, and only one other competitor had placed four arrows in the center of her own target.

  Kestrel pulled out two arrows at once, curious if he could hit the center with both. As a boy and a young member of the guard, he had competed with others in shooting trick shots, and Kestrel felt that his two-arrows shot was usually the best trick he could achieve, but he’d never placed both arrows in the center – or even close – before. Always in earlier efforts, he’d been satisfied to make both arrows hit the target itself. Today though, he was so sure of the way the bow and he meshed that he felt a better outcome was possible.

  He had time, and he took it. He carefully aimed, then minutely adjusted the arrows, and twitched his fingers to hold them against the string just right, working with exact precision to distribute the weight of each arrow that he held in place awkwardly, and when he was confident that he could do nothing more to improve his chances, he released his fingers, then stood as still as a statute and watched the two arrows fly away. They seemed to be flying at half speed; they remained one atop the other, their fletching almost rubbing against each other as they sped through the air, while Kestrel remained focused on them, observing them shrink in size as they moved away from him, until they came to a sudden stop, and he realized that they had reached the target.

  One was in the center, while the other was a finger’s breadth below it. A murmur ran through the crowd that was watching, a rolling soft noise that grew louder, and then evolved into small, separate smatterings of applause that merged with each other to become a round of ovation. Even some of the other competitors were speaking softly to each other, pointing at Kestrel or clapping.

  He had one last arrow left, and Kestrel held it to his bow string, then fired another bullseye to finish his first ten arrows and complete the first phase of the competition. He rested his bow on the ground and watched placidly as the other contestants fired their final shots.

  “We’ll take a brief pause to allow those who are going to remain to go fetch their arrows, and to allow those who are leaving to clear the field,” the judge shouted. Kestrel walked forward and pulled his arrows out, listening and nodding appreciatively to those on either side who spoke to him.

  When he returned to his spot at the line he looked left and right and saw the gaping holes where so many competitors had been withdrawn from the contest. He looked over and saw that Exmoor had already vacated his place among the stands. Aurelia and Tewks both waved to him, while Moorin and her father were engaged in a conversation when he looked in their box.

  “Contestants, prepare for the second round,” the judge announced.

  Kestrel took up an arrow. He would not show off in this round, he told himself; he’d simply fire his arrows and await the next round, the finals of the two days of competition. Upon the signal, he fired his first arrow, then calmly picked up a second arrow. He proceeded to shoot each arrow methodically, slowing down the pace he had used in the first round, without suffering any adverse effects. Each of his ten arrows found the bullseye again, and he stood to wait patiently until the last arrow was fired by the other contestants.

  “We will take a half hour break to allow the contestants to refresh themselves,” the judge announced, as the archers went to their targets to pull their arrows free.

  “Kestrel!” he heard his name called, and turned to see Tewks calling him over to Lord Ripken’s stand.

  As he walked over towards the stands, he saw Aurelia and Moorin talking with one another, leaning over the railing between their stands as they intently discussed some matter, then Aurelia pointed towards Kestrel, and he saw Moorin’s head jerk back in reaction.

  “You honor us greatly by wearing our colors,” Lord Ripken said as Kestrel arrived at his stand.

  “You deserve to be honored, my lord,” Kestrel replied. “I’ve heard many good things said about you and your influence on the kingdom.

  “Tewks,” Kestrel turned to the boy, “this bow feels better than any other bow I’ve ever held. It makes me think I could make any shot I needed to. Thank you for delivering it to me. Where did it come from?”

  “I found it,” the boy said with embarrassment. “Last night I was walking past the temple of Kere, and it was just lying on the walk. There was no one around to claim it, so I stood there, and no one came to get it, and I decided to bring it for you.

  “And it’s worked pretty well, hasn’t it?” the boy confidently asked.

  “It has worked extremely well,” Kestrel agreed.

  “Kestrel!” the princess called from nearby.

  “We’ll see you after you win the championship,” Ripken said. “You better go see what your royal friend desires.”

  “Kestrel, Moorin tells me that you were at her party last night and were quite a fighter there!” Aurelia spoke to him as soon as he arrived.

  “I didn’t hurt anyone,” Kestrel immediately interjected, as the two women faced him.

  “Not physically,” Moorin calmly agreed.

  “We’ll be seeing Lady Moorin and her fiancé off after this competition ends,” Aurelia said. “Would you care to join us in bidding the happy couple a safe journey on their way to their marriage at Seafare?”

  Kestrel looked from Aurelia to Moorin. “You are certain that you’ll do this, Moorin?”

  “Kestrel! What kind of a question is that?” Aurelia asked.

  “You are no gentleman,” Moorin spoke in a low voice. “You draw my attention in a way that I cannot explain, and you seek to insinuate yourself into my life and destroy this relationship I am pledged to enter.”

  “Is something wrong?” Ruelin re-entered Count Stelten’s stand and came over to stand next Moorin.

  “No, nothing,” she answered curtly.

  “Contestants, return to the line for the final round,” the judge called. Kestrel’s eyes flickered from Moorin to Aurelia to Moorin, then he turned without another word and walked over to his spot on the line.

  There were twelve finalists left. They had closed up the ranks, so that there were fewer gaps between the archers who stood at attention. Kestrel stood impatiently, distracted by the comments Moorin had made.

  “Raise your bows,” the judge called, and Kestrel prepared his arrow then raised his bow.

  “Release,” the judge said again, and the arrows began to fly.


  Kestrel felt the connection with the bow, the bow that also seemed to have some implied relationship with Kere. Kere’s bow was custom-made for him, enhancing and fulfilling the utmost degree of ability he had, making him an unbeatable champion with the bow.

  And in the same way, he sensed, Kere’s prophecy for him, the prophecy that he must rescue Moorin, must also be specifically made for him, a forecast of his future that was directly created to point his life in a direction he would have to go.

  He released his first arrow, and glanced over at the stand, where he saw Moorin and Ruelin and Stelten being escorted from their stand by their servants. They were leaving already, and seeing their exit gave Kestrel pause. He might have to give up on rescuing Moorin in Kirevee; his destined rescue of her might be an event that would happen later, perhaps at Seafare, perhaps somewhere else. Maybe he was still destined to fight against Uniontown and win that campaign. It might have been a mistake to come to the Northern Forest, he began to realize; in making the northern journey he might have acted on his own volition and not according to the timing that fate had predetermined for him.

  He focused his eyes on the end of the field where the targets stood, and saw that those around him had fired several arrows while he had been contemplating Moorin. He gave a grunt and grabbed an arrow, then fired it, and another, and another. All his shots were smooth, and in the center of the target again. Despite his distraction, despite his hurry, the bow made every shot good, and he realized that it was truly a gift from Kere; the goddess herself must have placed the bow in front of her temple, where Tewks would find it and deliver it to him.

  Thank you, my goddess, he silently prayed, then shot another arrow, and another. He had fired six arrows, and was back on pace with the other contestants. No one else had placed every shot in the center as he had, and he redoubled his focus on the target to ensure that his last four shots were perfect. He stopped after the last shot, and slung the bow over his shoulder, then waited for the other competitors to finish their last arrows.

  Kestrel was soon presented to the royal box as the grand champion of the tournament. The king and queen looked upon him with kindly gazes, while Princess Aurelia grinned at him. He was surprised to see that Prince York was absent from the box, but had no time to ask any questions as the King lauded his victory and called upon him to attend the victory banquet that evening in the palace.

  When he was dismissed he went over to Ripken’s stand. “Where have Count Stelten and his group gone?” Kestrel asked. “Where did Exmoor go?” Although no one knew, they promised to find out.

  Dissatisfied, and with time to spare before the banquet began in one of the grand halls of the palace, Kestrel walked back to the tower where he nominally had a room, and he rode a lift upwards to the eleventh floor, there he found the imps idling away their time in the late afternoon, but he found Lucretia socializing with them as well.

  “Congratulations on your victory,” Stillwater saluted Kestrel when he arrived at the apartment. “The Lady Lucretia tells us that you were unbeatable in the competition.”

  “Were you there?” Kestrel asked in surprise.

  “I was, but I wasn’t a guest in any of the privileged boxes that you stared at so often,” she replied. “I sat with the minor nobility, and listened to the gossip about you, and the hero-worship.”

  “Several folks left early. Do you know why?” Kestrel chose to ignore her invitation to ask questions about the gossip he had generated.

  “Exmoor left early, probably because he came to realize that the appearance of the princess meant that his actions yesterday were going to be made known to the king, who would be most displeased about an attack on his daughter,” Lucretia answered. “He’s probably running for his life right about now.

  “And Count Stelten left so that he and his daughter and future son-in-law, presumably,” she paused, and watched for Kestrel’s reaction, then continued on when he said nothing, “might begin their journey to their port on the west coast, where Ruelin’s ship is waiting to carry them away to Seafare tomorrow. They’ll ride quite a ways today, and further tomorrow, then Moorin and Ruelin will board the ship and sail away to their wedded bliss.” She stopped and waited for Kestrel to say more.

  “Friend Kestrel, may we leave this place now that your competition is over?” Odare asked. “We would like to see more and do more.”

  “Take them to the banquet with you!” Lucretia sat up straight, excited at the thought. “Think about the impact you would make and the stir you’d cause. And since they’re the ones who carried Aurelia to the spring to be healed, she’ll recognize them and vouch for them and the king will love them! Oh do it Kestrel!”

  “If you’ll go as my escort, then the imps can come too,” Kestrel replied. He realized that he would actually appreciate having Lucretia by his side for a ceremonial occasion like the banquet, where she would know what to do and what to say. And Aurelia would be grateful to the imps, he knew, and they did deserve something better than sitting caged in a small apartment. They were warriors; they had been assigned to accompany him and assist him through battles, and few of their actions in recent weeks had actually been battles.

  “Why, how gallant!” Lucretia answered. “Of course I’ll be your companion for the banquet tonight. Just let me go upstairs and put on something decent. I’ll be right back. Odare,” she called to the female imp, “would you like to help me pick something out?”

  Soon after, Kestrel and Lucretia and their bodyguard of imps strolled across the palace grounds, drawing stares and shouts all along their route. And by the end of the evening’s festivities, after the imps were recognized by Aurelia and introduced to the full crowd at the banquet, while Kestrel was honored as the champion of the tournament, and awarded a large purse of gold coins, they were all invited to join the royal party for the following day’s trip to the coast to bid farewell to their departing cousin, Moorin.

  That evening, as they strolled back to their tower in the moonlight, Kestrel asked Lucretia why Prince York had been absent from the banquet. “He is believed to have slipped out with Exmoor,” she told him. “If that proves to be true, then the king will be furious. He’s already sent several guards up to Exmoor’s castle to find out where the miner is.”

  “Good night Lucretia,” Kestrel told the elf maiden as they stood at the lifts, ready to ride up to their apartments above. “Thank you for helping me through this evening,” he said sincerely, for she had cued him on when to stand and when to bow and when to do numerous other things.

  “You be good tomorrow on the trip to the port. Do you need for me to come watch over you?” she asked.

  “No, I should be able to manage the trip,” he said.

  “Are you going to stir up more trouble? Will you try to break up Moorin from her fiancé again?” she pressed him firmly.

  “I don’t know,” he hung his head. “I’m at a loss. I know the goddess told me I’d rescue Moorin, but there doesn’t seem to be anything she wants to be rescued from.”

  “So you’re going to quietly ride there, see her off, then ride back here with the royals? And then what will you do?” Lucretia asked.

  “I’ve been asking myself the same question,” Kestrel said softly. “I think I’ll go back to Graylee. I have friends and a purpose there, I think.”

  “Oh Kestrel, I’ll miss you if you go. You’ve only been here among us for what, three days now, and look at all you’ve stirred up!” Lucretia told him. She pressed him onto one of the rising platforms, then stepped on with him as it climbed towards the ceiling. “Shall I come visit you in Graylee someday?”

  “Wait until Graylee’s war is settled down, and then just come back to the Eastern Forest to see me. That way I can translate your accent for the elves there!” he laughed.

  “We’ll work on that idea,” she agreed. “Here’s your floor; come see me when you return from the coast. Good night, Kestrel,” she told him as she gave him a quick kiss, then a soft prod to hop
off the platform. He skipped onto his floor, watched her rise out of sight, and then he and the imps returned to the apartment set aside for him, and he slept soundly through the night.

  Chapter 17 – Saying Farewell to Moorin

  Kestrel rose early in the morning and was accompanied by the imps as he strolled to the stables. He found Tewks there waiting for him. “Lord Ripken thought you should have a squire with you to run your errands, so I volunteered,” the boy explained.

  They rode with the other elves from the palace, an experience that reminded Kestrel anew of the difference between the nations of elves. No other elves that Kestrel knew in the Eastern Forest, except for those at the spy training facility at Firheng, ever rode horses. The paths were not pocked with hoof prints, and the stables were not to be found in the east either.

  The imps were the highlight of the trip, floating near Kestrel usually, occasionally straying forward or backward and relishing the attention they drew. After the first few hours of their novelty wore off, and they no longer were applauded and called by the various members of the cavalcade to come be seen, they settled into prolonged visits with Kestrel and Tewks, and with Princess Aurelia, who invited them into the carriage she shared with her mother.

  “Kestrel friend, it seems that Aurelia has provided a suitable means for our travel. Could you not arrange something similar on a regular basis?” Canyon asked him when they were stopped for the midday meal, more than halfway to their destination.

  “You would think so, wouldn’t you, my friend?” Kestrel replied. “But you wouldn’t want to be spoiled, or lose the warrior mentality that you have, so as a favor to you I’ll refrain from any future carriages.”

  With a dumbfounded look on his face, the imp turned and floated away to where servants were spreading out a banquet table of food. As everyone sat and partook of their feast, a messenger came galloping up on a fast horse, and delivered a message to Lord Ripken, who listened gravely, then went to the king and whispered in his ear. The two of then conversed at length, before standing and urging the others to finish their meals. “The servants will clean up after us, but we ought to hasten on to meet the travelers at the docks,” Ripken said.