A Marriage of Friends

by Jeffrey Quyle

  The room suddenly erupted with the explosion of another cache of the barrels of powder. Fragments of stone and wood hurtled through the air, striking the blue dome around Kestrel’s group, and bounding off without causing harm. The floor on which they stood buckled, and they all fell to their knees, then fell downward as the floor beneath them collapsed, and sent them teetering onto the rubble below.

  Smoke and dust filled the air and dimmed their view, while the walls and the ceiling overhead collapsed down upon Kestrel’s shield.

  Kestrel felt the strain upon his shield, and he felt the dangerous instability of his reach for Medeina’s power. He felt his ankle badly twisted by the fall onto the debris. The shield started to shift from blue to green as the stress of the debris overhead mounted, and further debris fell.

  “You fool!” Medeina gasped aloud.

  You cannot handle my energy without my guidance. Here, change your orientation, the goddess directed. Become active with the energy, not passive. Treat it as if you are generating it by your own will, she directed.

  Do it now! She told him urgently, as the shield shifted further from green to yellow, and began to grow orange.

  You must accept that you create the energy – it is yours to control and master. Now, control it, take this energy from me and add it to your own, she said. He felt her manipulate her own energy strength, reducing what he received from her, but feeling it come in a smoother flow.

  He did as she told him. He looked upon the energy as something that he had to master, not something that mastered him in its unpredictable appearance. He seized it with his strongest willpower, then blended Medeina’s energy in, and spread the newly constituted effort evenly across the tenuous dome that was protecting them from being crushed.

  The orange shifted immediately to yellow, then green, then blue, then became a glowing purple brilliance, that pressed upwards, and dislodged the debris overhead, allowing light to shine down upon the small band once again.

  Kestrel focused on the rise of the shield, and pressed it higher, making more of the debris tumble away, creating a wide access to the crumbled floor above.

  Nicely done, Medeina praised him gently.

  “How is everyone?” Kestrel asked.

  Putty roared with anger, while she held Remy shielded within her shaggy hug.

  “I’m okay, thanks to Putienne,” the boy said.

  “Just scrapes, amazingly,” Miskel said.

  “We are okay, Kestrel shielder – we are ready to get revenge for this attack!” Mulberry spoke for the imps.

  “Putty, put Remy up topside, then help the rest of us up,” Kestrel spoke to the yeti, as he released his hold on the power. The shield evaporated away, and portions of the debris around them tumbled into gaps as the stones and bricks and timbers resettled once again.

  “Mulberry, would your people go see what’s around us – threats or opportunities?” Kestrel called up as Putty hoisted Remy up, then turned to help him return to the remnant of the floor of the room they had been attacked in.

  Remy helped pull Kestrel up onto a large, flat slab of flooring, then the boy helped the others up as well, while Kestrel hobbled out of the way on his painful ankle.

  “They’re destroying the palace just to kill us!” Miskel said angrily.

  “That is just the mentality of Castor and Pollux,” Hampus said. “They have no qualms about destroying anything in order to get something they want; they brainwashed Elwean into thinking as they do.”

  “Where would they be likely to be now?” Kestrel asked.

  “It depends. They obviously know the palace is under attack if they’ve prepared these explosions to fight against invaders,” Hampus mused. “If they think they’ve beaten us and held on to power, they’ll be in the small throne room, probably plotting their revenge against survivors of the uprising. But,” he paused for a moment, “if they still think they’re going to lose, they may head to the gates to try to escape to their secure place.”

  “Where’s their secure place?” Kestrel began to ask. “Never mind,” he cut off his own question. “Let’s just find them and put an end to this. That explosion was meant to kill, so they must think we’re dead now. We’ll head to the small throne room,” he decided.

  Miskel gave directions to the imps on the new destination, and how to get there, allowing the flyers to go out in a new direction. The rest of the group, bound to travel across the unsteady ruins of the floor of the palace room, slowly picked their way out, Kestrel coming last as his sprained ankle hobbled him.

  “We did not enter, but we heard much shouting going on in the room you told us to check,” Odare returned to report.

  “It’s this way,” Miskel pointed down a hall, and the small band walked at Kestrel’s restrained gait, until they faced an ornate pair of doors, outside of which several of the imps hovered anxiously. Numerous shouts and cries could be heard in the room.

  “We’ll go in. Stay close to the door,” Kestrel instructed. Medeina reached out and took his hand. “Thank you,” he said gratefully. He meant to thank her both for the gesture, one which they both knew meant that he would be able to share her power, but he also meant to thank her for her advice while they had been buried in the rubble. She had given him the insight into the power that he needed to begin to truly control it, to understand it, and to call it forth.

  Kestrel pressed a door open with a firm shove, then immediately caused his protective shield to blossom forth as he and the others entered the room.

  The ballroom was a shambles. Several bodies of dead elves lay scattered about on the floor, while Princess Elwean, and two elves Kestrel had never seen before stood on a small balcony that looked down upon the scene. There were a number of guards who held prisoners firmly, captives who were apparently about to be executed.

  “You said they were dead!” Elwean screamed at her two companions on the balcony. “You meddler! I despise you!” she turned to Kestrel as she screamed further. “If you had come to the palace as consort, I would have made you happy. Now, you’ve ruined our nation with your human sympathies. We know you plan to bring humans here to kill us all!

  “I’m lucky Castor and Pollux made me realize the evil you had planned. We have the weapons to defeat your filthy human friends,” her voice rose to a shrill scream, out of control, as her face grew red with emotion.

  “We will kill them now,” one of the two replied. “Leave at once,” he ordered, and his partner ushered Elwean out of the door, the princess screaming as she was pulled through a door and out of sight.

  “This rich land will not fall under the control of the likes of you,” the remaining of the two identical elves said, “you with your monsters,” he indicated Medeina and Putienne with a dismissive wave of his hands.

  “We have plans,” he continued calmly. All of those on the floor of the ballroom, the captives and their guards, as well as Kestrel’s band of rescuers, all looked up at him.

  “And the first of those plans is to finally rid the Eastern Forest of you,” he said. He raised a candle that had been hidden behind the balcony railing, then tilted it to touch something else behind the railing, and quickly fled.

  “It’s another explosive!” Medeina warned. “Protect us, Kestrel!” she urged, as she slipped her hand into his and opened her abilities to him.

  He created his glowing shield once again, then inverted it, making it a large, shallow cup that was open on one side, the side facing away from the ballroom. The elves in the room – captors and prisoners alike – started scrambling futilely away from the balcony site.

  Kestrel closed his eyes as he tried to create more of his own energy, as well as relying upon Medeina’s power. He transferred it all into his shield, just as the explosion began with a flash and a loud clap. The curves of Kestrel’s shield directed the force of the blast away from the ballroom. As everyone in the space fell to the ground from the tremendous vibrations, the wall behind the balcony disappeared, as did the ceiling overhead, a
nother portion of the palace destroyed by the princess’s willingness to listen to the outsiders’ promptings to use force to hold onto power.

  “Is everyone okay?” Kestrel asked as he held onto Medeina’s hand tightly. He needed her support to hold himself up as he felt drained by the effort to divert the blast away. The blue shield flicked out of existence as he released his power.

  “Kill him!” one of the guards in the room shouted, and a trio of guards released their prisoners to focus on attacking Kestrel, while others fled from the room, and yet others stood frozen indecisively in place.

  Putty gave a loud roar, calling herself to the attention of the oncoming attackers. She ran out at them, her yeti fur standing on end, her eyes blazing with fury, and she launched her own strike against the first two attackers who were within her reach; one great paw swiped across the chests of both elves, deflecting their knives and hurtling them backwards forcefully.

  They fell to the ground, and the third attacker instantly ducked away from Putienne as she turned to face him.

  Remy picked up an abandoned bow, and notched an arrow on the string, then pointed it out at the crowd.

  “All of you in the uniform of the palace, lie down at once!” Miskel commanded.

  The guards still in the room froze, then many lay down, while a few bolted out of nearby doors.

  “Remy, go cut the bonds of those who were prisoners,” Miskel told the boy, who put down his bow and pulled out his knife, then went around among the newly-saved elves, who disarmed their former captors, while expressing gratitude to Remy.

  “Miskel, take a group of our new friends, and take Putty, to go see if you can catch up to the princess and her friends,” Kestrel suggested. He felt too weary to take up an immediate pursuit himself.

  “Be careful,” Medeina said. “They have a great deal of this terrible powder, it seems.”

  “Not too much more, my lady,” one of the former prisoners hesitantly spoke to Medeina. “They sent most of what they had up to the fight with Firheng. They may have just used up the last of what they kept here.” He looked at her closely, watching to see if his words had offended the strange red being that stood amid the ruins of the palace.

  Miskel and Putienne departed with a half dozen elves escorting them, and several imps, as Kestrel and Medeina watched them go. Remy timidly took command of the other freed prisoners, who put the newly-captive palace guards to work, respectfully moving all the bodies of the dead into a tidy arrangement in one corner of the room.

  “Are there other prisoners we should go set free?” Kestrel asked one of the overseers.

  “There are many still down in the dungeon below the palace,” the elf answered.

  One of the imps who had gone with Miskel returned with news.

  “The twin who lit the barrels of explosive didn’t get far enough away before Kestrel directed the power of the explosion directly at him – we found his dead body,” the blue being reported. “But the princess and the other elf escaped from the palace and disappeared.”

  “We’ll send patrols around the city to find them,” Kestrel said. “Go bring Putienne and Miskel and the others back here,” he directed. “Mulberry, you go back to where we left Alicia and the wounded ones, and tell them it’s safe to come here to join us as well – we think the battle is over for now.”

  Chapter 13

  The next day, Kestrel and Hampus and Miskel were in charge of organizing the palace and the city. The princess was nowhere to be found, while rumor reported that she and the surviving twin from the east had fled from Center Trunk, disappearing into the forest wilderness east of the city.

  Large swathes of the palace were in ruins, the guard was split between those who tried to maintain loyalty to the princess, and those who were relieved that the princess was no longer ruling in such a cruel and erratic manner. Kestrel sparingly used his powers to demonstrate that everyone needed to submit to a new order in the palace. He and his allies slowly used his energy, and the frightening appearances of Putienne as a yeti and Medeina as a Parstole to intimidate the opposition, until it became clear that an overwhelming majority of those in the palace and the city were happy to see the princess removed from the throne.

  Lim gathered together those guards who he knew were trustworthy and reliable, forming the core of a force that brought stability to the city. Messengers went forth to the outer regions of the Eastern Forest to report the change in regime. Giardell went on his way, back to Hydrotaz, to inform Lucretia of all that had happened; Kestrel knew that the ambassador would inform the palace of the appropriate news, once she finished celebrating Giardell’s return.

  They could not find the king in captivity anywhere, and his location was a mystery. The princess had sent him into exile, but no one knew or was saying where, so Hampus remained in charge in his absence.

  Several days later, the situation in Center Trunk was calm enough that Kestrel and the rest of the Oaktown contingent were ready to return to their southern home. The winter was nearly halfway passed, and the sunshine was relatively warm, making the journey through the forest a pleasant proposition.

  They left the palace in the hands of Hampus as the regent responsible for the nation, with Miskel strongly supporting him. It was ironic, Kestrel reflected, that the elf who had only recently married the princess, and then fled from her, was the one who now sat on the throne bringing stability.

  One element of their time in Center Trunk both amazed and troubled Kestrel, so much so that his mind dwelt upon it while they trotted along the southbound forest ways.

  Upon gaining control of the palace and the city, Miskel and Hampus had questioned every elf who was reported to have followed Elwean and her twin guides in their descent into tyranny. They had asked questions about three issues in particular – where did Elwean flee to; where was the king held hostage, and who knew how to create the explosive powder that had wrought so much horrific destruction throughout the palace and the Eastern Forest.

  They had found no clues to lead them to Elwean, though she and the surviving eastern twin were reported to have fled the city entirely, and gone into the forest to the east.

  Nor had they found any trace of where the king had been spirited away to. His whereabouts were a mystery, thus leading to Hampus’s service as Lord Protector until the king could be found.

  But they had traced down a dozen elves who had been put in charge of acquiring the elements of the explosive powder, and had blended them together to produce the quantities that were used so horrifically.

  “What do we do with them?” Hampus had asked. “We don’t want to allow them to produce more of it, to destroy more of the kingdom.”

  “Kill them. Kill them all,” Miskel said grimly. “Kill their knowledge and end this plague before it spreads.”

  “No,” Hampus had replied. “That feels like murder.”

  “It’s protection against more explosions,” Miskel had replied.

  “There is another way,” Medeina had interjected. “Kestrel and I can take care of this problem for you.”

  And they had.

  Which had troubled Kestrel.

  “You mean we can make them forget?” Kestrel had asked, after Medeina had pulled him aside and explained her proposition. “How do we do that?”

  Like this, Medeina had replied silently, communicating with him by holding his hand and projecting her thoughts into his mind. We go in to them and erase the memories.

  How do we pick out the things we want them to forget? Kestrel had asked.

  We cannot be so precise. But we can wipe away all their memories from the past few months, she had replied.

  Will they forget everything from the time we pick? Kestrel had asked.

  Yes, everything, both the good and the bad, the red goddess had answered.

  But they won’t be the same people without the same memories, Kestrel had protested. What if they had some good memories?

  They’ll still be alive. If we don’t do this, the
only way to rid the land of this horrible infection, this knowledge of evil power, is to kill them, she replied.

  And that had convinced him, ultimately. Having gods and goddesses who used extraordinary powers was disturbing and disruptive in the world, but there were only a few divinities – or semi-divinities, such as himself – to use their powers. But if elves – and humans or imps or gnomes – could indiscriminately use the destructive power of the explosive powder, the whole world would be thrown into chaos and turmoil. Destruction would become far more common that construction, and the quality of life would diminish. It was better to do away with the introduction of such a power, even if a few individuals were changed, possibly harmed.

  Subsequently, he had gone with the Parstole goddess, whose appearance so unnerved the elves who met her, and together the two of them had laid hands upon their victims, and wiped away all their memories of the past several months. With that accomplished, the dazed elves had been allowed to live on.

  But Kestrel had been troubled. If he had been the ruler in Hampus’s place, what would he have done, he asked himself. Would he have exiled the elves, kept them locked up in a special prison somewhere, captives for the rest of their lives? Execution would have been more humane, he thought. But to turn them into someone they would not have been troubled him. He wondered if any of them had had new lovers, or children born, or lost a loved one in the year that had been wiped away.

  He decided that he was glad that he had not been the one to make the final decision to allow them to live with altered memories. He hoped that Hampus rested more easily with the decision than he did.

  “You chose not to be the new king,” Medeina spoke to him as they left the city on the morning of their departure, Kestrel’s fellow elves around them and the imps flying overhead.