The Healing Spring tisk-1

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “I’m one of the best human speakers in Firheng,” she answered. “My husband was a human. Is a human,” she corrected herself. “You didn’t know that?” she asked.

  “No,” Kestrel replied. “How did you marry a human?”

  “My father was a trader when I was growing up, and I went with him to Estone on several trips. I met a human, we fell in love, and we parted, because both our families disapproved,” she said. “But Ranor was determined. He came to Firheng, found me, and took me back to Estone with him.

  “We were married as soon as we got there, and then he brought me back here, and settled in to live among the elves here, working as my father’s trading partner.

  “After a while, the guards decided they could trust him not to be a human spy, and a while later they decided they could trust him to become a spy for the elves,” she continued her story. “And he agreed, because he wanted to do anything to help the elves, because he loved our race.

  “He went out for several months on a long mission, and he learned a great deal of useful information. Then he went out on another mission the following year, and brought back more information, and the spymasters were delighted.

  “So he went out on his third mission; he missed our fifth wedding anniversary, and when he came back, he was delivered on the back of a horse. The humans had figured out what he was doing. They cut off his ears, and they blinded him. They cut off his hands, poisoned him, and bashed in the back of his head, then sent him back as a warning,” she spoke in a husky voice, and Kestrel knew she was crying.

  “And he’s been a vegetable ever since. I take care of him at our home, and we have aides who help watch him. One of them is with him tonight,” she finished her tragic tale, and let silence envelope the room for a long time.

  “You look so much like the way he used to look,” she said at last. “I get chills when I see you now, now that you’re humanized.

  “I want to help you. I want you to speak the human language perfectly, so that nothing happens to you like happened to Ranor. So tonight, I am your new instructor to help you work on your language skills,” she told him.

  “I’m so sorry,” Kestrel said at last, horrified by the story he had heard.

  “Don’t be sorry, be smart,” she answered. “I want you to learn to do this right. Work hard at it.”

  “I will,” Kestrel pledged solemnly.

  He heard her rise from her chair and climb into her cot. “Now, in human, tell me about the girl who came to see you last month, the one who brought the message for you to return to Center Trunk.”

  And so they lay in the darkness in their separate beds, conversing in the human language. Belinda gently corrected his pronunciation from time to time, until at last she said “good night, Kestrel,” and their conversation was over.

  That night, Kestrel dreamed in human languages for the first time. He dreamed he was caught and was being tortured by the humans. He called upon Dewberry to help him, but she told him she was on her honeymoon and couldn’t be interrupted. He screamed from the pain, until Belinda woke him up. She was on his bed, shaking his shoulders. “Wake up, Kestrel, please. It’s only a dream, dear,” she told him. When he awoke at last he sat upright, and she hugged him tightly.

  They slept together the rest of the night, Belinda in his bed, her body pressed against his, and he had no further dreams.

  When he awoke in the morning, Kestrel knew he was late for the start of his training. He sat up and looked at Belinda, her head still on his pillow, her eyes blinking sleepily.

  “I have to go to training,” he told her, standing up and hastily pulling on clothes. “Belinda,” he said seriously, picking up one of the skins of water from the healing spring.

  “This water has healing powers. It comes from a special spring. Give a little of it to your husband today; give him some every day, and see if it helps. I don’t know if it will, but it might. It can’t hurt anything,” he said awkwardly.

  Belinda looked at him skeptically. “Just try it,” he urged. “I know the water helped me, but I soaked in it. I don’t know for sure that just drinking it will be as powerful, but I think it will help.”

  “I’ll try it, as you suggest,” she replied, reaching for the skin with one hand as the other hand modestly pulled the blanket up to cover her.

  Then he was gone to practice for the day, thinking about her story about her husband. His language instructor was able to teach him in the afternoon and was back in his quarters that evening. Kestrel didn’t see Belinda again until the following week.

  Chapter 16 — The Yeti Battle

  After more days of further training, Kestrel was called to Cosima’s office, and when he arrived, Belinda was working at her desk. “Good morning,” she said demurely. “You’re to go on into the commander’s office.”

  He gave a perfunctory knock, then opened the door and entered.

  “Kestrel, today is the start of your first assignment away from Firheng,” Cosima said as soon as Kestrel was settled into a chair. “You and Arlen and Artur are going to ride horses to the edge of the Water Mountains. We’ve had reports of a yeti that is coming down out of the mountains and terrorizing the elves that are settled in the area.

  “Check into the matter, then come back here and make a report,” he finished the explanation.

  “Just check a Yeti? No human activity?” Kestrel asked in surprise.

  “There may be some human interaction. You’ll be near the Estone border, but it’s not a heavily populated area, so you might or might not see humans; for that matter, you might or might not see elves. Just see how you handle traveling and using your weapons and language on the road, away from the comforts of Firheng,” Casimo told him. “Go pack anything you need, then report to the stables.”

  An hour later the three soldiers were atop horses and riding away from the city; Kestrel had grabbed a change of clothes, his weapons, and one of the bags of healing water. “You’ll speak to me only in human languages, and translate our conversations to Arlen so he knows what we say,” Artur explained to Kestrel as they rode along the empty trail.

  Although he knew that according to elven traditions he wasn’t supposed to, Kestrel enjoyed riding atop a horse. The trio made good time thanks to the horses, and the animals were intelligent companions. Within three days they were in rugged foothills, the outcroppings of the Water Mountains, and trying to decide how to find a yeti.

  They found a cabin in a clearing, and stopped to watch for signs of life. There was no smoke rising from the chimney, and the doors were shut, but there were chickens running in the yard, and after several minutes of observation, they were rewarded when they saw a figure leave the cabin and walk across the yard to the shed.

  “He’s a human,” Kestrel stated the obvious. “Are we too far north?”

  “Maybe, or he may have settled a little south of usual. There’s no real border out here,” Artur commented.

  “Alright Kestrel. You go approach the shed, talk to the man. Let him know you’ve heard there’s a yeti, and find out if he’s heard anything about it in this area. Then come back and tell us what you’ve heard,” Artur instructed.

  Kestrel dismounted, and approached the shed, leading his horse. “Settler! Hello! I’m a visitor,” he called loudly.

  A man’s head popped out of the shed, and he heard a noise as a bolt was thrown on the door to the cabin. The man had a bow and arrow already sighted on Kestrel. “Come no closer!” he called out.

  “I’m not here to harm anyone!” Kestrel protested hastily. “I’m here with a couple of companions. We were sent out here to check on reports of a yeti in the area, bothering settlers. We’ll be on our way after we talk to you. Do you know of any yeti problems in this area?” he asked.

  The man remained behind the shed door, and kept his bow pointed at Kestrel. “About ten miles north of here, across the river. They’ve talked about the yeti up there. Now if that’s all, I’ll ask you to peacefully leave us alone.”
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  Kestrel turned his horse and walked away, back to Arlen and Artur. “He says there’s talk of a yeti a few miles north of here,” Kestrel explained to both of them, in both languages. Translation skills came relatively easy for him now, and Artur was pleased with his progress.

  They rode north until they reached a river. The faint trail they followed reached a bluff that looked out over the river, and they followed the trail as it followed the river bank, moving west towards the mountains. The trail descended to a spot that plausibly provided an opportunity to ford the river, and they rode their horses through the wide, rippling spot in the river. It was a larger stream than Kestrel had ever seen before, and neither Artur nor Arlen knew what river it was.

  “Can’t we just run across?” Kestrel asked, referring to the elven ability to run atop water for short distances. Sprinting at their highest running speeds, and with their light frames, agile elves could cross over a hundred yards of water surface before they sank. It was an ability they delighted in, and was often a fiercely competitive sport to see who could reach furthest across a lake or pond before going under.

  “We can. The horses can’t,” Arlen pointed out the obvious to the sheepish Kestrel, and so they forded slowly through the cold water that flowed from the mountains.

  That night they settled into a camp spot, but made no fire. Kestrel was assigned first watch. Two hours into his shift he heard an unearthly scream, and the horses nickered uneasily. The scream came from some distance away, and Kestrel stood up, unsure of what to do. The scream seemed too far away to be in their immediate vicinity, yet it was close enough to hear.

  He decided to awaken Arlen, the armsman who knew something about the yeti. Arlen had described the monsters to Kestrel during their ride. “The creatures are immensely tall, incredibly strong, cunning and deceitful, and full of hatred. You seldom manage to avoid a fight with one if it knows you’re around. They don’t like to let any challengers survive in their territory, and they each claim a very large territory,” the elf had told Kestrel, who had translated for Artur.

  Arlen sat up in the darkness in response to Kestrel’s prod, but before Kestrel could even explain the reason for the untimely awakening, there was another scream, and then immediately a third scream, a different voice, one that sounded full of fear, not anger. “It sounds like you’ve found our yeti, Kestrel,” Arlen said softly. “And it sounds like he’s on the attack. Can you tell what direction the screams came from?”

  “Yes, over there, away from the moonrise,” Kestrel pointed west.

  “Awaken Artur, and get your weapons. We’ll see if we can do something tonight,” Arlen directed him as he rose from his bedroll.

  Kestrel awoke the linguist, then gathered up his bow and arrows, his staff, and his sword, then went to wait by the horses.

  “Come over here, Kestrel. We’re going to go on foot,” Arlen said, standing next to Artur, and holding a small lantern. “The horses won’t be able to travel quickly in the forest at night, and it’s not far anyway if we can hear the screams. We’ll use the lantern to try to find the path. I’ll take the lead, Artur will follow, and you bring up the rear. Let’s go,” he commanded as they started heading west, relying on the lantern to show them a narrow forest path that went in that direction.

  Five minutes later there was another yeti scream, much closer now, as well as the sound of breaking timbers. They redoubled their pace for three more minutes, then stopped suddenly when a woman’s scream came from their left, very nearby. Kestrel looked and saw a light visible less than a hundred yards away, and Arlen started leading them through the brush and the forest, crashing through the undergrowth on a pathless charge towards the yeti’s apparent location.

  Within a minute the trees abruptly halted on the edge of a small opening in the forest. A small shed was on fire on one side. Its blaze illuminated three things that stood out in Kestrel’s mind: a body lay still in the ground nearby, a cabin had suffered such a violent assault one wall had been virtually torn away, and a huge creature, a dark malevolent entity, was entering the cabin, threatening a woman who pitifully attempted to protect a pair of small children using only a stick.

  Kestrel pulled his bow and strung an arrow, then released a shaft that hit the yeti in the back. He’d pulled his string taut, and the force of one of his shots, at such close range, should have been enough to deeply penetrate the flesh of any living creature. The yeti roared its displeasure and turned away from the small family, then plucked out the arrow that had barely penetrated its fur near its kidney, as it spotted the three elves on the edge of the clearing.

  “Okay, you’ve made it mad. Now what do we do?” Artur asked.

  “Yeti’s have the toughest hide I know of,” Arlen answered quickly. “They’re vulnerable in the groin, the eyes, the mouth, and not much anywhere else.

  “Spread out. I’ll try to attract him towards me,” Arlen said as the yeti began to leave the cabin and approach them. “Kestrel, you try to put an arrow in him wherever you can. Artur,” he added as he started to go right, “see if you can go help that woman get her kids somewhere safe, out of that cabin, so they’re not trapped in there.”

  Kestrel strung another arrow, and took aim at the yeti’s groin, then released the arrow and immediately pulled another arrow from his quiver, and let it fly too.

  The yeti screamed in pain as the first shaft hit it. The arrow was close to the target, hitting the inside of the upper thigh, while the second arrow arrived a second later only to bounce off the monster’s hip. The yeti paused as it reached down and pulled the successful first arrow free from its flesh, screaming its outrage upon the removal. It looked up at Kestrel, and started limping towards him.

  The monster demonstrated that despite its injury it could cover ground quickly. Kestrel had time for only one more arrow shot he realized, and he strung a new shaft, took aim at the open mouth that was screaming furiously, and let the arrow go.

  Just as he released the shot, Arlen jumped at the beast, cracking his staff against its head, trying to distract it from Kestrel. The yeti’s head jerked in response to the strike, and Kestrel’s arrow feebly scratched its cheek before dropping to the ground.

  Arlen backed up quickly, as the yeti turned towards him, but in the process he somehow tangled his feet, and fell backwards. The yeti kicked at the fallen elf, punting him several yards away, but was diverted from further attack when Artur threw a rock that hit the back of the monster’s head.

  It turned and ran towards Artur, but stopped when Kestrel fired another shot that penetrated its cheek. Confused by the multiple sources of attacks, enraged, and in pain, the yeti abruptly changed direction to run at Kestrel, who panicked and climbed a tree to escape the charge, rising above the monster that stood at the base of the trunk, In response, the yeti grabbed the trunk of the tree and began to shake it wildly, causing Kestrel to hang on fearfully, sure that he was going to be dislodged.

  Arlen arose from his prone position on the ground, and flicked two knives simultaneously at the yeti. One bounced off the monster’s back, while the other weakly penetrated the skin of its buttocks, doing no great harm, but causing pain that distracted the creature from its pursuit of Kestrel, and motivated it to lumber back towards Arlen once again.

  Kestrel jumped down from his tree haven, dropped his bow and pulled his sword free, running to help Arlen, but not as quickly as Artur did, who emerged from the darkness with his staff, and thrust it between the running monster’s legs, tripping it up and causing it to fall.

  The force of the yeti’s fall snapped Artur’s staff as easily as if it were a toothpick, and when the monster rose again, the linguist was defenseless as it pounced upon him with a blow to the chest that made him crumple to the ground with a pitiful moan.

  Arlen jumped on the monster’s back at that moment, and Kestrel reached it as well. The yeti screamed triumphantly at the defeat of one of its feisty opponents, and reached back over its shoulders to rip the second one away, when
Kestrel placed both hands on the hilt of his sword and ran at the creature, thrusting his blade deeply into its groin. The yeti gave a scream, and swung its arms forward, backhanding Kestrel with a powerful blow as it tried to reach the weapon that had dealt it a mortal wound.

  Kestrel flew several feet through the air and hit the ground hard. His head flew back and hit a stone, stunning him for seconds, as the flames from the shed fire luridly lit the scene, and the yeti screamed in agony. Kestrel finally looked up to see the monster down on its knees, then he watched as it fell on its side and moaned with decreasing volume. Arlen was off the monster’s back, kneeling over Artur, and Kestrel braced himself to rise and walk over to his companions.

  “Get your blade out of the yeti and go check on the family,” Arlen said as Kestrel approached him.

  “How’s Artur?” Kestrel asked.

  “He’s gone on to the next realm,” Arlen answered, keeping his head down as he held his dead companion’s hand.

  Kestrel walked over to the nearly dead yeti, which moaned periodically while his limbs quivered randomly. Cautiously, Kestrel stepped in and placed both hands on the handle of the sword, then pulled the blade, giving a mighty heave to draw it free of the monster’s body. He skipped back a step as the yeti’s arms flailed weakly, then looked up, away from the immediate scene and took in the rest of the vicinity.

  The woman was kneeling over the inert figure on the ground near the burning shed, and the two children were clinging to her skirts. He walked over to her, feeling pain in several spots on his body, and light-headed from the contact with the stony ground. He reached the small family tableau and dropped his sword, then crouched down by the woman. Her hands were holding the hands of the man on the ground, and one look at the gaping rip in his torso showed Kestrel that the man had died.

  The woman looked up, her face tear-streaked, and she said something to Kestrel, something he couldn’t translate. “Say that again, and speak slowly. I didn’t understand you,” Kestrel told the woman.