“You are welcome to come see us any time you wish to return and enjoy the beauty of the life we live, or if you want to go out to hunt for any of the other yeti that haunt our lands,” the leading gnome grinned. He and his companion bowed to Kestrel, then bowed to Arlen, and turned, then trotted away.
“I’ll come with you,” Arlen told Kestrel. “I was going to part ways with them soon anyway. They were honorable enough to come and fight at the start of winter, and I couldn’t ask for more than that.”
The two of them turned and started walking back towards Firheng.
“What did you do for the gnomes to make them owe you such a favor?” Kestrel asked.
“There was a time when I was young, believe it or not,” Arlen gave Kestrel a twisted grin.
“I find it hard to believe,” Kestrel mocked him.
“Yet it was true. Even Silvan was young, or younger, back then, when you and Alicia were still babies wearing diapers in the forest,” Arlen assured him.
“I was sent out on my first solo mission, to try to travel through the mountains and be disguised enough in Green Water to spend the night among the humans there,” he explained. “I had my horse, and some make up, and a knit hat, and everything we could think of – short of surgery – to make me look human.”
Kestrel thought of Green Water with a shudder. It was a lawless border town – according to the maps it was part of Estone, but out on the mountain frontier, where miners shipped their products out to the world, there little contact with the government in Estone, there were few rules that were obeyed. Kestrel had gone there, and through the power of the gods, he’d set a pair of enslaved elves free – and he’d been hunted by Green Water criminals afterwards.
“On my way to Green Water I came across an ambush. A group of miners had found a group of gnomes who were sick while on a trading mission to Estone, and they pounced on the gnomes, attacking them savagely.
“When I heard the shouts and screams, I got off my horse and went by tree limbs to the site. It looked horrible, and unjust, so I started firing arrows at the miners, before one of them threw a knife that struck my leg and knocked me off the branch,” Arlen said.
“More than half the miners were dead, but a few were alive, and angry, and they started attacking me, leaving the gnomes alone in their drunkenness, so that one of the gnomes rose up and started stoning them all, driving the humans away. By that point, I was in worse shape than the gnomes, but they appreciated my efforts to help them. So they retrieved my horse, strapped me in the saddle, and carried me with them as they returned to their villages.
“I spent half a year with the gnomes, healing at first, then spending the winter with them. In the spring time I took their goods for them to Green Water, where I sold them, and I took the things I traded for back to the village for the gnomes. They made me a part of the village, and I was given the sacred water from the spring in the cave, same as you were.
“When I finally returned to Firheng the next summer, they had given up hope on me, so it was a real surprise. I was sent out again to make the solo mission to Green Water, and I went to the gnomes first, to help them with trading again, and journeyed back with them after the trading. I’ve gone to help my village every year now for twenty summers,” he finished his story.
“And it came in handy for my other home, with the elves,” Arlen said. “I was able to bring together the largest united army of gnomes in memory, and it seems to have helped, although now that you’re here, Firheng probably didn’t need us at all.”
“They certainly needed you,” Kestrel assured his friend.
“I’ve been gone for a few days,” he said.
“Gone?” Arlen asked in a puzzled tone. “You were here and then you left? What’s that mean?”
They were approaching the city walls of Firheng.
“Let’s go inside and talk it all over with everyone else, and decide what to do next,” Kestrel suggested, and so they did.
Chapter 11
The conference took place in Casimo’s office shortly after Kestrel and Arlen entered the city. There was no longer any danger to the city. The Center Trunk army was gone.
“You should see the scene of the explosion,” Hampus said. “There’s the tangle of damaged trees and debris that didn’t burn. That debris surrounds a ring of damaged, charred tree trunks that surrounded a vast open circle, blackened and with an awful, lingering odor. There’s a crater in the center, a, deep wide crater.”
Kestrel thought about the scene of the explosion, as it had been in the moments before he had lost consciousness. The forest had held numerous troops camping in the area, and it pained Kestrel to think of how many elves had died immediately when the blast had occurred.
“The city was shaken awake,” Belinda said.
“There was a tremendous explosion,” Casimo began. “It shattered most of the windows in the city. Everyone rushed to the walls to see what was happening, but between the darkness and the smoke there was no telling what the situation was, other than that we were not under attack.
“Several minutes later, most of the men from your raid managed to bring their booty into the city. We waited through the whole night for you or others to return, or for an attack, or for anything, but nothing happened.
“In the morning, when the smoke cleared away and the sun came up, we saw the Center Trunk forces running around in confusion. And still you never came back. We sent a delegation out under a white flag to ask about you, but there was no one who would meet with our emissary – they told him to go back in the city,” Casimo continued.
“Everyone saw the destruction, and they were sure the siege was over,” Putty told him.
“And then you brought your gnome army,” Lim spoke up, looking at Arlen. “And now folks think the whole war is over. Some people are already starting to leave Firheng this morning, to go back to wherever they came from originally.”
“But we’ve stayed here. I was waiting for you to return, and Remy was waiting for me,” Putienne told Kestrel with a mischievous smile.
“Kestrel, tell us what happened to you,” Medeina suddenly appeared in the room, relief evident on her face. “I was afraid I was going to be trapped here without you to help me return home.”
Kestrel proceeded to recite the story of the ignition and his awakening in the healing spring. He mentioned his brief conversation with Kere, though he did not reveal her warning that had faded away at the end.
“I plan to go to Center Trunk,” Kestrel said. “I want to find my friends who are there, and set them free, and I want to tell the princess to stop this tyranny.”
“We’ll send as many men as we can with you,” Casimo assured Kestrel.
“I won’t take many. We won’t need many. We’re not going to fight a battle or win with bows and arrows. This is going to be the imps and me and just a few others,” he looked over at Medeina, “using our abilities to go to the palace to put an end to this madness.”
“You’ll take Remy and me,” Putienne declared.
“Of course,” Kestrel agreed. “And Moorin, and Lim and Hampus,” he listed his chosen companions.
The next day, Kestrel directed his Oaktown forces back home, instructing them to march south through the Eastern Forest on their way home, instead of swinging into the human lands of Hydrotaz once again.
Once he saw them on their way, Kestrel and his company set off with a dozen guards to accompany them on the road towards Center Trunk. They passed through villages along the road, and learned a great deal about the effect of the great explosion on the Center Trunk army.
At every village along the way, they heard reports of desertions, of guards who slipped away from the army to return to their home villages and former ways of life. There were biers in the tree branches along the way, where the injured who had died were prepared for their final passage.
The reports of the villagers described an army who had lost a great many warriors in the explosion, including most of th
e senior officers. The few officers who were left had unilaterally gathered up their forces to take them back to Center Trunk after concluding they did not have the numbers – or the will – to continue the siege of Firheng, especially after the intervention of the gnomes.
Along the way, Medeina spoke to Kestrel.
“I saw the barrel that didn’t get destroyed in your great explosion,” she told him. “The contents were extremely dangerous, and extremely troubling. Those who created it took elements from the earth, and combined them in a way nature never intended. They made ordinary things very dangerous. It could happen again, over and over again, Kestrel. You must stop these mad creators, or your world will be blown apart.
“I am ready to return to my own world,” she told him. “I’ve seen enough now to know that there can be too much excitement, too much chaos. Your world is a challenging place for your gods to manage, especially at times like this, when they cannot intervene to protect it.”
“Will you wait until I finish my work in Center Trunk, before you leave?” Kestrel asked. He’d come to appreciate the lessons the disguised goddess had shared with him about how to use and apply his powers.
“I will go with you. I have to, you know. It will take both of us working together to reopen the door between our worlds so that I can go home,” she told him.
Five days after departing from Firheng, Kestrel and his friends spent the night in a village inn located just outside of Center Trunk. For Remy, the next day promised to bring the excitement of entering the great capitol of the elven kingdom for the first time.
“Will we see lots of people? Will we see the palace?” he asked Kestrel as the group sat at a table and ate dinner.
“If Kestrel wants us to see the palace, we’ll see the palace,” Captain Lim replied.
“We’ll see what type of opposition we face when we enter the city,” Kestrel explained. “And we’ll go to the guard base first, to find out if there are reasonable elves we can talk to there.”
“I have several in mind I think we should approach,” Lim told him. “Most of the ones I went through training with are reasonable.”
The next morning Kestrel left his escort of Firheng guards behind at the inn, and walked into the sullen and virtually empty city with Remy and Putienne, Hampus and Lim, and Medeina. The imps flew high overhead.
The streets of Center Trunk were familiar to Lim and Hampus, and to Kestrel as well.
“I want to see if Alicia is alright,” Kestrel announced as they approached the entrance to the guard base. He looked at the sentries who were positioned at the entrance. “How do we get in?” he asked.
“Find a quiet, lonely place, and we’ll get in,” Medeina assured him. They pivoted and walked away from the entrance, and along the side walls of the base until they came to an empty spot with no witnesses.
“Here,” she took Kestrel’s hand in hers and pressed them both against the stony wall. There was a blue glow, as Kestrel sensed her directions, and he responded. The wall dissolved away silently, into nothingness.
“That is extraordinary!” Hampus murmured. “You seem to have increased your powers tremendously since we traveled over the mountains.”
“I never would have forced you to run all the way from Oaktown to Center Trunk if I had known that you could do such things,” Lim commented, as they easily walked into the base.
“Lim, you take the group to some place safe,” he directed, as he motioned for the imps to join them.
“Odare,” he said when the small blue figure dropped down. “I want you to watch these friends and tell me where they are. I’m going to go check on someone else here to make sure they’re alright.”
“Is the someone else you plan to visit a pretty doctor, Kestrel friendly visitor?” the blue imp laughed. “Is it Alicia doctor friend?”
“Yes,” Kestrel admitted. “I will go see if the doctor friend is at her home and is okay.”
“There is someone you know on this base?” Hampus asked. “An old friend?”
“Yes,” Kestrel said, “an old friend,” he agreed softly. “Keep an eye on them Odare, and let me know where they are when I signal you.”
He left his friends, confident in his ability to protect himself with the powers that Medeina was teaching him to control and wield more effectively. He had few worries about being intercepted or prevented from doing what he intended while in Center Trunk. But first he wanted to see Alicia.
He was still drawn to her, he admitted to himself. She was so strongly embedded in his memories that he had to see her, to check on her, to make sure she was safe and whole. He took discreet shortcuts through the base, and arrived at the door to her building without notice.
There were no guards at the door, but there had been virtually no guards or others around the base as Kestrel strolled over to Alicia’s building, he realized. Or was it really Silvan’s building, he asked himself in an aside.
He stepped into the relative warmth of the building interior. The hallway was dismayingly shabby in appearance, with little evidence of care or habitation, he saw with alarm. Alicia’s rooms were abandoned. Most of her belongings and tools were still present, haphazardly spread around, but covered in dust.
Kestrel held his breath, as he considered the implications of Alicia’s disappearance.
She had either fled, or she had been taken captive. If she had fled, where would she have gone, he asked himself. She hadn’t been in Firheng; he would have found out if she was. Where else could she have fled – Oaktown, to see him, he wondered wistfully. It seemed unlikely, he told himself.
If that was the case, she was probably a captive.
Kestrel felt new anger welling up in his being. The thought of Alicia being a captive, along with Whyte and Miskel, and doubtless countless other innocent elves, kindled his distaste for injustice.
He was ready. He had come to Center Trunk to set his friends free, and to confront the princess.
The others who had come from Firheng with him were safe for the time being.
And on the spur of the moment, Kestrel decided he was going to go to the palace. He would go alone to the dungeon cells, to set his friends free. He would go confront the princess, and force her to stop her actions. He would order the two trouble-making strangers to leave the Eastern Forest, and never return.
He walked out of the building where his career as an elven spy had started. He wasn’t going to use disguises, or dissemble, or hide any actions in any way. He was going to be straightforward and open. He had learned that he had powers, and he had learned how to use them.
Chapter 12
Kestrel paused, and carefully called upon his powers to create his protective shield before he left the building. He did not want to be too evident in his approach to the palace. He delicately controlled the amount of energy he used, shrinking his shield, and reducing its bright blue glow to a subtle luminosity.
When he stepped out of the shadow of the building into the full daylight, the shield virtually ceased to be visible at all. Satisfied that he would arouse no attention prematurely, he pulled his hood up to cover his ears and shadow his face, then started walking towards the main gate of the base, on the quickest route towards the palace.
“Where are you going?” a guard at the gate asked. “Where’s your pass?” the elf called at Kestrel as he hurried past the guard shack.
“I’ve been called to the palace, to look at the prisoners in the dungeon,” Kestrel said. “I don’t like the sound of this.”
“I wouldn’t either,” the guard sympathized. “Good luck. The palace is a place I’m staying away from as much as I can, these days.”
“I don’t have any choice,” Kestrel said.
He kept on walking, with no further question from the guard at the gate. Kestrel noticed that the streets were only lightly traveled, and when he turned a corner around a tall building, he saw that the air near the palace was smoky, with a greasy, unpleasant smelling odor present.
Near
the palace gates he stopped; there was a battle taking place, as a group of elven soldiers were attacking the walls and closed gates of the palace grounds. The smoke he had seen earlier was climbing from a fire somewhere on the grounds of the palace.
The walls were only lightly defended, but the defenders had the advantage of the higher positions, and were wreaking terrible damage upon the attackers.
There was no explanation for the battle, no way to tell who was fighting for what, or why.
Kestrel approached the doorway of the only shop on the street that didn’t have shutters pulled closed. The storeowner stood in the doorway with a large knife, defending his property.
“Come no closer,” the elf told Kestrel. “What are you, a human?” he asked, pointing his knife towards Kestrel’s still cloaked head. “I see those ears and those eyes.”
“I’m an elf. What do you know about what’s going on here?” he demanded.
“Where are you from? Don’t you know?” the suspicious shopkeeper questioned him.
“I just got here from Firheng,” Kestrel answered.
“Firheng? That’s where all this started. Are you part of the army? This is the army from Firheng, fighting against the palace,” the shopkeeper waved his hand at the street battle.
“They apparently got beat pretty badly up there. Which side were you on? The army’s?” the elf asked Kestrel.
“No, I was inside the city, on the other side of the attack,” he explained.
“Well, after you and your friends beat the army so badly, they came back here to tell the princess what a bad idea it was to fight up there. Or at least the ones that stayed in the army and came back decided to do that – there wasn’t much of an army left when they got back to Center Trunk. The leaders went in to tell the princess what had happened,” the story teller explained.
“After hearing how her guards down in Oaktown got thrown out, she wasn’t in a mood to hear she lost another part of her kingdom, and she didn’t like the way the officers were talking,” he continued.
A Marriage of Friends Page 13
