“Good for you! How many were there?” Arlen asked.
“I hit two with arrows, beat three with the sword, and one with the staff. He was the biggest one,” Kestrel answered. Arlen and Casimo exchanged a look.
“You beat six thieves?” Arlen asked.
“They tried to ambush me, and they were split up, so I never fought more than three at a time,” Kestrel explained.
“They probably saw a solitary elf on the road and assumed you were just a merchant who couldn’t fight, who was returned from trading goods in Estone and would have money they could steal,” Casimo hypothesized.
“They didn’t know or care if I could fight,” Kestrel blurted out. “Their first shot was meant to kill me.” He thought of the arrow that had bounced off his chest.
“Sure,” Arlen agreed casually. “They’re not known as kind and gentle people.”
“I was lauded as a yeti-killer,” Kestrel began to approach his story. “When I took the goods to Castona to sell, he thought he could make the most money through an auction, so he spread the story about fighting the yeti to give the auction more publicity. So I got some recognition.” He wasn’t sure what else to say that wouldn’t sound completely unbelievable, although he knew he had the proof he needed for his story.
“Did the sale go well?” Arlen asked.
“Castona raised,” Kestrel added the amounts together, “one hundred and twenty golds. He kept fifty for himself, and Merilla got the rest.”
“She got seventy golds! How much did you get?” Casimo exclaimed, his voice rising.
“I didn’t get anything from the yeti sales,” Kestrel answered. “I told Merilla she could have everything. She has the boys after all.”
“So why are your ears back to normal?” Casimo repeated his earlier question.
“When we fought the yeti, we were all injured, so I used some of the healing water. I didn’t think about it healing my ears so completely back to their usual shape. And then on the trip to the city, one of the boys got hurt, and I rubbed more of the water into his scalp wound a couple of times,” Kestrel explained. “By the time we went to the palace to meet the Doge my ears already grew out enough that Castona had my head wrapped to hide them.”
“You met the Doge at the palace?” Arlen asked in surprise.
He had said a little too much, Kestrel realized, and he had taken a step closer to revealing the frightening part of what he had experienced.
“That was part of the plan for promoting the auction,” he replied.
“What’s the rest of this story?” the commander asked. “I sense you’re not telling us everything.”
Kestrel took another deep breath, then sighed. He wasn’t good at lying, and he was speaking to a commanding officer to boot.
“The Doge gave me titles; he named me as a Captain of the Fleet, and he named me as Champion of the People. Then the goddess Kai came to earth and named me her champion of the people too,” he spoke hurriedly, his words running together.
Casimo sat back. “Okay, now tell me what really happened.”
In response, Kestrel stood up. He untucked his shirt, then pulled it up over his head, revealing the new marks that had been added to his torso. “This is the one the Doge ordered for me,” he pointed, “and this is the one the goddess created,” his finger crossed his chest, then he twisted his back into their view and pointed over his shoulder. “This is the mark she left behind.”
Both the other elves at the table stood as well, looking at Kestrel, then at one another, then at Kestrel again.
“Put your shirt on,” Casimo snapped. “We’re going to my office right now.” He immediately left the armory, as others looked at the trio, examining Kestrel from a distance.
Arlen grabbed Kestrel’s arm. “What is this?” he asked.
Kestrel wretched his arm free. “Kai told me before that I would owe her a favor, because she had done something I asked her to. I just never knew it would be anything like this.
“Let’s go,” he said, heading to the door.
Arlen followed. “That mark on your back looks like it must have been painful.”
“It was,” Kestrel confirmed. “But the mark saved my life. The arrow the thieves shot at me? It hit me square on the mark and bounced off. A sword stabbed me there, but couldn’t penetrate it.”
They walked the short distance across the base to Casimo’s office, where Belinda had returned.
“Kestrel!” she said fondly. “It’s so good to see you, even with elven ears. Your healing water worked miracles for Ranor; I applied all of it to him, and so much is improving. His ears and his eyes have grown back!”
Kestrel walked to the corner and picked up another bag of healing water. “Here, take this one then and put it to use,” he handed it to her.
She hugged him tightly, and when they broke apart, there were tears in her eyes. “Kestrel, I dream that I’ll have the old Ranor back someday. Do you think I will?”
“The water does great things, Belinda. Just say your prayers and hope for the best,” he answered with a smile.
He left her as he started to walk towards Casimo’s office with Arlen. “He just went in there in quite a mood. You might want to come back later,” she advised.
“I’m the reason he’s in that mood,” Kestrel said bleakly, his hand on the door, and then it pushed it open and entered.
“Kestrel, take off your shirt again. Belinda, come in here,” Casimo called out loudly before Kestrel and Arlen had even entered his office.
Belinda followed the other two into the office, and pushed the door closed behind her.
“Both of you take a look at this and tell me what it means,” Casimo ordered Arlen and Belinda.
They both circled Kestrel as he stood self-consciously.
“Belinda, what do these things mean?” Casimo asked his assistant.
“I don’t know, but the crest is beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a work of art. What do the words at the bottom mean?” she asked.
“What words?” Kestrel questioned. He had never had a mirror with which to study the marks on his chest closely, and the details were a mystery.
Belinda leaned in close to his body. “Kai’s champion, Estone’s Champion, Humanity’s Champion,” she read.
“So you’re humanity’s champion now?” Casimo asked.
“So the goddess named me,” Kestrel replied. Belinda gasped audibly.
“Have you renounced your allegiance to the elven nation?” he asked.
“No,” Kestrel answered instantly, while thinking about the constant desire he felt to go back to Merilla and live with her in Estone.
“Arlen, what do you think of this?” the commander asked.
“I think I am a simple master-at-arms, and these are matters far beyond my knowledge. I know Kestrel is an elf, and I know he killed a yeti, and I know he would not betray our people,” the warrior replied.
Casimo sat silently for over a minute, as everyone else stood awkwardly. “Put your shirt on Kestrel,” he said at last. “Then go get whatever you want to take with you. I’m going to send you on your way to Center Trunk this afternoon; this is too deep for me.
Come back in an hour; I’m going to write a report for you to take to Silvan, explaining the situation as I understand it,” he decided out loud. “All of you are dismissed. Belinda, get a message tube prepared.
“No, wait,” he called as they headed to the door. “Kestrel, you might as well spend the night here after traveling all day to get here; get a little rest. You’re off duty, and I’ll have a message for you in the morning,” he changed his mind.
Kestrel gathered his pack and weapons, and started down the hall. “Kestrel,” Arlen called, “do you want to grab dinner?” he asked.
“That sounds good,” Kestrel replied with a grin, the first time he felt comfortable since beginning to tell his tale. “I’ll meet you at the dining hall in a couple of hours.” He left the offices to return to his old ro
oms for the first time since he had left on the yeti-hunting training mission.
“Belinda,” Casimo called as soon as Kestrel was gone. “Get the fastest messenger you can. I want to send a tube this afternoon with a message, and then I’ll send another tomorrow with Kestrel,” he ordered, then shut his door and began to write out his urgent report.
Chapter 25 — Hydrotaz Betrayal
Ferris was released from the prison the same day Kestrel arrived in Firheng. He had spent days crammed with two dozen other Hydrotaz officers in a small dungeon cell, next to other cells that likewise inhumanely held officers and noblemen who had been swept up by the forces of Graylee.
The joy Ferris had felt during the great victory over the elves had been a short-lived burst of satisfaction. He had felt uneasy before the battle, concerned about the presence of the Graylee forces and equipment on Hydrotaz soil. He had been confused by the sudden departure from the battlefield after the easy victory, and he felt uneasy when they had triumphantly marched back westward with their war machines and strings of captured elves who were destined to be enslaved.
And then horror had come. Officers of the Hydrotaz forces had been pulled aside for a series of briefings over the course of the journey, and had been chained up and bundled away from their forces. Then the siege weapons had been reassembled, and used to pummel the capital city, Hydrotaz, into surrender to the surrounding Graylee forces. The leaders of Hydrotaz’s own forces had been penned away, and only now were being released, now that their wives and children were being held as hostages, shipped to the distant city of Graylee to be held at a palace there, or to be punished there if the Hydrotaz officers objected to the conquest of their nation.
Ferris had stood for days in the crowded dungeon cell, a filthy cesspit that could not hold half as many prisoners in humane conditions. When his name had been called on the day of his release he had pressed and worked his way through the crowd to the dim light of a lantern that showed where the doorway was. His legs were like those of all the other prisoners, weak from the lack of exercise and movement, and when he left the cell and affirmed his identity, he was dragged by two Graylee guards out into the sunlight. He shaded his eyes and stumbled, blinded by the light, as he slowly followed his captors to a courtroom.
“Captain Ferris?” a military judge of Graylee had asked as he sat up at the bench looking down upon Ferris. Other men in tattered clothes were awaiting their turns for similar hearings.
“That’s me,” Ferris confirmed.
“Husband of Joane, father of Graysen?” the judge asked.
“I am,” Ferris answered.
“Resident of the blue brick manor on green water pond, and descendant of the Mylinde clan?” he was further asked to affirm his identity.
“Those things are all true,” he could only agree. There was no value in foolish opposition at this point, not when these men could easily reach out and harm his family.
“You are hereby freed upon parole, and released to live in society once again. You are hereby offered the opportunity to serve your nation as an officer in the infantry,” the judge read emotionlessly from a sheet of paper. “You are hereby notified that your wife and son have taken transport aboard the Graylee royal yacht Last Lake to take up residence at the Yellow Palace at Graylee, as a token of your commitment to obey the laws, rules, and regulations of the Graylee suzerainty now established in the lands formerly known as Hydrotaz.
“Do you accept the terms of your freedom and responsibility?” the judge asked, then stopped reading without bothering to look up from his paper to observe Ferris.
Ferris paused long enough that some of the bustle around the edges of the courtroom slowed as people paused to see if he would speak the wrong words.
“I accept the terms,” he mumbled at last.
“Take this loyal subject of Graylee to the quartermaster for uniform, supplies, and a copy of the rules of the Graylee army. Process all such paperwork as is necessary for him to assume his duties,” the judge said in a bored tone. He hammered on the podium. “Next case,” he called out, and Ferris was escorted away.
He learned later that day that he would be assigned as captain of a company of mixed Graylee and Hydrotaz membership, to be assigned to spend the upcoming winter out on the Eastern Forest frontier, near where the Battle of the Fire had been held, and then would be thrown into battle in the spring.
Chapter 26 — The Return to Center Trunk
Kestrel awoke in the morning, feeling more comfortable with his circumstances than he had at any time since killing the yeti. He and Arlen had eaten dinner, then drank ales, then returned to Kestrel’s apartment and continued to talk deep into the night. Kestrel had told Arlen the whole story of his doomed infatuation with Merilla, and the painful decision he had made to walk away from the human woman. He had confessed his self-doubt about his identity, whether he was elf or human.
Arlen had tapped Kestrel’s breast as he prepared to leave when the red stars rose above the horizon. “You may have a human badge and a human obligation here on your skin, but underneath it, you have an elven heart,” Arlen had told him. “You’ve got a good heart, and I know you will always chose to do the right thing.
“Let me know when you come back, and let me know if you need someone to go yeti hunting with you, now that I know how profitable it is!” he laughed, and descended the stairs into the darkness.
Arlen’s trust was reassuring. Kestrel’s return to the Elven community felt easier and more comfortable, knowing that someone who knew him could still have complete faith in him, and buoy his trust in himself.
He would be back through Firheng again, he felt confident, and so it seemed reasonable to leave his belongings in his room atop the housing unit. He stuffed minimal supplies in his pack, then gathered up his bow and arrow, typical of elven guards, and his sword and staff, atypical of elves, and went to see Belinda. She had a message tube sitting on her desk awaiting him, and a smile on her face when she saw him.
“I’ll tell you, Kestrel, that water you provide is a miracle. My eyes tear up just thinking about how much good it will do Ranor to use the new skin of water on him,” she told him earnestly. She rose and picked the tube off the desk, then handed it to him before giving him a long, tight hug.
“Travel safely, and come back to us soon, with or without those stylish ears!” she grinned as they broke their clinch and looked at each other. She was another good friend Kestrel could rely on to trust him and have faith in him, he knew. “And tell those goddesses to go easier on you next time!” she added impishly.
“I’ll tell them,” he smiled back, then was out the door and on his way to Center Trunk.
The trees were beginning to change. Autumn’s beginning was not far away. He had noticed leaves on the ground as he left Estone, but his attention had usually been diverted by his thoughts and worries, so he had paid little attention. Now, as he jogged along the southern road within the forest, he noticed the leaves on the ground, and the colors that were emerging among the green leaves still on the trees. His journey was a little noisier than it had been during the summer, as leaves crunched beneath his feet, but Kestrel appreciated the noise as a reminder of life in the forest, the life of an elf in the autumn, when the nuts were harvested and stored in a frenzy of preparation for the approaching winter.
That night he climbed up into a tree and slept, rather than use his blue-ribboned tube to secure a bed at an inn. He appreciated and preferred the solitude of the forest, until he awoke just before dawn to the arrival of a rain shower.
Kestrel hastily climbed down from his tree perch, almost slipping on the wet branches during his descent, then pulled a weatherproof cover from his pack, and began a slow stroll along the forest path. When daylight sullenly arrived through the heavy overcast, he picked up speed slightly, careful of the slick leaves that were being knocked from the trees along the entire course of his journey that day. Ditches filled with water, and streams rose as rain steadily soaked th
e forest all day long. Kestrel was chilled by late afternoon, and had no doubt about the advisability of stopping at a small village inn for the night. His message tube secured a room for his use, and he undressed and dried out before putting on dry clothes and heading down to the common room for dinner.
Few travelers were at the inn, but many locals had come to the tavern to socialize, and Kestrel was squeezed between two groups of the villagers as he ate his dinner quietly and listened to their talk. Despite the weeks that had passed since the fire and battle with the humans, the conflict was still a topic of conversation, and Kestrel listened gloomily to the elves speak angrily about the humans. A pair of guards from their own village were killed in the battle, and the neighbors mourned their loss
“You look kind of human yourself,” one of the larger elves at the table said to Kestrel, speaking over the rim of his tankard of ale.
“I’m a member of the guard, delivering a message,” Kestrel said quietly. He sensed that he needed to pick his words carefully to avoid any open hostility.
“But you look human,” the other elf insisted.
“I am an elf,” Kestrel replied.
“You are what you look like,” the large elf placed his tankard on the table, and the others around the brewing confrontation grew quiet as he rose from his seat.
There was an inevitability to the approaching fight, Kestrel concluded. He rose too.
“If that’s the case, you ought to be out in the woods snorting around searching for acorns, because you look like a pig. Oink, oink,” Kestrel replied.
The room was profoundly silent at that, and the drunken man’s face grew red, while his features distorted in anger, and he dove across the table at Kestrel.
The fight between the two lasted fifteen seconds. Kestrel was sober, and he was trained in hand-to-hand combat, and he was confident in his abilities. He evaded his opponent, then struck hard and repeatedly before he forced the drunkard to the floor and placed a foot on his back in a victory pose.
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