“Wait here,” Kestrel ended the whispered conversation with that command, then pressed the door open and stepped into the room.
“Lark? It’s me, Kestrel. I’ve come to Uniontown for you,” he said gently. He could see her sitting on a small mattress, looking towards the door.
“Who? Kestrel? Kestrel!” the girl leapt out of her bed and ran to him, then embraced him and kissed him soundly.
“Kestrel! I heard you were in Uniontown! A girl named Gail told me!” Lark told him as the two of them squeezed one another tightly.
“We have to go,” Kestrel said urgently. “Get ready; we’re going to sneak out of here and return to your father,” he told her.
“Oh Kestrel!” he heard the emotion in her voice. “Just a moment,” her arms slipped away from him, and she began to slip clothes over her sleeping apparel.
She stood and gave him another hug, before the three of them crept back up to the roof and had a silent, happy reunion with Stuart.
“You two go across the bridge and go back home,” Kestrel told Stuart and Lark. “We’re going to go find Stillwater.”
“We’ll all go find him,” Stuart proposed.
“No, I’ll have trouble protecting all of us, especially if the Triplets are here,” Kestrel answered. “Hopefully, Wren and I can sneak most of the way through the building to find him, then rejoin you at the Duke’s place,” Kestrel directed.
“I hated crossing that bridge,” Lark said impulsively. She looked from the dark object back to Kestrel. “Thank you!” and she gave him another impulsive hug, making him grin.
“Let’s take you home, my duchess,” Stuart said. He shook Kestrel’s hand, then began walking across the passage to freedom, with Lark following behind.
“Okay,” Wren said, as soon as the two escapees reached the far roof, “what’s your plan from here?”
“I don’t have a plan. I just came to set everyone free,” Kestrel answered as they descended back to the sleeping rooms. “Do you know your way around this place?”
“A little. They haven’t let us walk around on our own, but we’ve been escorted around most of it. The staircase is this way,” she pointed. They walked to a door, and opened it to reveal a dimly lit stairway.
“This goes down to the main floor. The stairs to the basement cells are in a separate place,” Wren explained.
“How many men does Fields have in here?” Kestrel asked.
“There are usually scores of them,” Wren answered.
“I remember one time I had an invisibility potion that Kere gave me,” Kestrel said, thinking hard about how to pass undetected through the building below. “I wish I had that.”
“Darkness!” Wren said suddenly. “It’ll be like being invisible.”
“What are you talking about?” Kestrel asked.
“You’ve got close to elven vision, and my vision is better than the humans’,” she explained. “If we can put out the torches as we pass them, and walk in darkness, the humans won’t be able to see us,” she answered.
“We’ll do better than that,” Kestrel said with satisfaction. He took a moment to gather his energy, and to shape it to carry out his wish, then released it, sending feathery threads of power before him, to hunt through the air of the building, seeking out each and every flame that existed, and dousing them.
“Let’s go,” he said.
They started to descend, and saw the various flickering spots of light below them disappear, as men expressed surprise and dismay at each lit position in the building.
“We have to hurry,” Kestrel said. “They’ll figure this out quickly, and know something is happening.”
They threw caution away and ran clattering down the stairs in the darkness, brushing past surprised guards along the way. They reached the main floor, and Wren careened to the right, Kestrel immediately behind her.
“Here,” she barely breathed the words in Kestrel’s ear so that he could hardly hear her over the sounds of confusion that surrounded them, “these are the stairs down to the basement.”
She opened the door slightly, then slid through the opening and started down.
“I can’t see at all. You take the lead, or provide a little light,” she told him, in the pitch black stairwell.
Kestrel agreed that the absolute lack of any source of light, indirect, direct, reflected, or otherwise, foiled even his vision. He paused a few moments and created a tiny spark of blue light that jumped downward, and he sent it down until it reached the floor below, then he moved it sideways around a corner and stopped it, so that it lit the basement beyond, without revealing their own arrival directly.
The sounds of scuffling and soft voices rose from the basement space as the blue light hovered in the air. “Are there guards down here?” Kestrel asked as they reached the bottom of the steps.
“There should be,” his cousin said noncommittally.
“We’ll find out,” Kestrel said softly. He pulled his knife free and stepped into the hall.
There was no sign of a guard, only a long, narrow passage with doors on either side.
“Stillwater is down this way,” Wren tugged on his sleeve, pointing to the right.
“Stillwater?” Kestrel asked. “Friend Stillwater? Do you have any mushrooms?” he called softly after they passed the first few doors.
“I feel like a mushroom down here in this darkness. Who calls?” Kestrel recognized the clear, high voice of the imp.
Kestrel stood in front of the cell the voice had come from, then reached with his hand and opened it, using his power to cause the bolt to dissolve.
“Who calls indeed?” Kestrel replied. “Two of your favorite elves, that’s who.”
“Kestrel friend!” the imp screamed the name loudly and launched himself at Kestrel, embracing him with a death grip. “You are alive and well! The world is a better place,” he pronounced. “We are all lucky to have you as our friend.”
“Stillwater,” Wren said in a sad tone, “don’t go too far overboard.”
“Let’s get out of here quickly,” Kestrel said.
“What about us?” a voice called from another cell nearby.
Kestrel looked at Stillwater, and the imp shrugged. “I shouldn’t be held captive, so perhaps neither should they.”
“You two go up to the top of the staircase and wait for me,” Kestrel told Wren and Stillwater. “I’ll open the doors of the others.” He watched them obey immediately, as he walked down the hall, and began to open doors, placing his hand and releasing powers upon each door latch.
“We’re going to escape. It will be dangerous, so you can stay or go as you wish,” he told them as a half dozen men fell in line behind him. He led them up the stairs.
“There’s a light up here Kestrel. We can see something,” Wren told Kestrel as he reached the top of the stairs.
“How close are we to the front door?” he asked. He wasn’t sure if his fire suppression powers had faded away, or if the power of the Triplets was in play. In either event, he was starting to feel tired. Though he had expended no great amount of power, except when he had created the bridge, he had done enough other things to begin to feel weary. He didn’t want to use his energy for many more actions, if he could avoid it.
“Thirty yards?” she guessed.
“That should be easier than trying to reach the roof,” he said. “We’ll go straight to the door, out the door, and then everyone goes where they want to go,” he told the freed prisoners behind him. He watched and saw their heads nod uncertainly in the dim stairwell. He lowered the brightness of his floating illumination to make it even dimmer, less conspicuous to Fields’s men, and he lowered it to the floor level, then proceeded to tap Wren’s shoulder in an unspoken signal to advance.
She went first, followed by Kestrel, with Stillwater flying over his head, and the other prisoners trailing along.
Wren turned a corner, turned another, and began to trot. There was reflected light ahead, but she moved on with suren
ess, as the passageway they were in gave way to a large lobby, in which Kestrel saw a half dozen men. He raised his hand and fired a bolt of bright blue energy at the main door, then another at the frame on the right, and one more to demolish the debris hanging above the new opening, all in a matter of moments.
The guardsmen in the lobby swore and screamed as they were knocked to the ground by the explosion, but Wren trotted on, her hands and arms in front of her head for protection as debris showered outward upon her.
“Stop right there!” a woman’s voice screamed.
Kestrel instinctively threw a blue shield around his followers. He stopped and turned, then saw a glowing red figure standing on the second floor landing of the stairs that climbed the wall along the side of the lobby.
“Everyone move slowly towards the door,” Kestrel told his people. “Wren, take my sword,” he instructed his cousin, his eyes not looking as he watched the Triplet above. He felt Wren’s hands on his hip momentarily, then she pulled the sword free, as he backed towards the door and the rest of the escapees clustered around him.
“Stop! I said stop!” the Triplet said, and she fired a bolt of her energy at Kestrel’s shield, striking it and splattering away, but weakening it nonetheless.
“We’re done here, and we’ve done no one any harm,” Kestrel replied. “We’ll be gone and you can live in peace.”
“Peace!? After what you did to my brother and my sister?” the girl shrieked. She fired three bolts of power at Kestrel, each weakening his shield slightly more, but none breaking through.
The rest of Kestrel’s group was running, but he heard the sound of swords clashing, and turned to see that Fields’s guards were closing in on Wren and the others as they ran away from him and left the protective power of his shield.
He looked up at the female Triplet, dropped his shield, and fired a bolt of his own energy at her, causing her to duck away as he made the landing beneath her feet crumble and fall.
He turned then and fired shots of Fields’s guards, striking three of them and knocking them to the ground, while causing the rest of them to flee for safety. He turned back and saw that the Triplet girl was rising to her feet, and he threw his shield back up to protect himself, but felt it flicker and wink into and out of effectiveness as he reached the end of his powers momentarily.
The girl fired a bolt of energy that struck his thin protection, lost some of its venom, but carried on through and struck him fully in the chest and head, instilling terrible pain and making him stumble backwards then fall.
“Kestrel!” he heard Wren call as he began to lapse into unconsciousness.
“Die now you pig!” he heard the Triplet scream with almost incoherent rage. His fingers groped for his knife, found the handle, then tossed the weapon up in the air, as he hoped that it carried out its mission.
The pain was overwhelming; he beat futilely at the flames on his flesh, then he heard the Triplet scream in pain. “This isn’t over yet! I’ll find you, and I’ll use you!” she screamed.
And then he passed out.
Chapter 25
Kestrel awoke in a subdued room, where he slept alone in a comfortable bed. He felt terrible pain on his face and chest. He looked down and saw thick layers of gauze across his chest, then realized that he felt them on his face as well, covering his chin and mouth and cheeks.
He reached up with his hands, though the skin on his arms exploded it pain, to the point that he ceased trying to bend the arms, and returned them to their straight, prone positions atop the bed covers.
“Hello?” He hoarsely called.
“Kestrel?” he heard a voice, then Gates entered the room and walked quietly over to the side of his bed.
“It’s good to see you awake, my friend,” Gates said. “You take it easy and rest and heal now.
“What can I do for you?” the guard asked.
“I’m thirsty,” Kestrel said.
“Here, open your mouth,” Gates told him. He raised a straw to Kestrel’s lips, and poured a dribble of water from a glass into the other end of the straw, moistening Kestrel’s mouth.
“What’s happened to me?” Kestrel asked after he swallowed the drink.
“You rescued the young duchess and those friends of yours, and you made a mess of Fields’s fortress, and you defeated the last of the Triplets,” Gates told him. “There’s plenty to be proud of there.
“And you got burned pretty badly doing it. You’ve been here three days sleeping, partly because the apothecary gave you some syrups to keep you sleeping,” he explained. “You need to rest up and heal. The Duke hopes you’ll be better in time to attend his coronation,” the guard said.
“Coronation?” Kestrel asked. He felt dreadful pain starting to overtake his awareness, focusing his attention on his discomfort.
“Fields has fled the city. Grilt has been placed in custody by Duke Listay. The other nobles and merchants are all asking him to accept the crown and become the king. He’s going to call a convocation of the nobles and priests to make an official declaration of his ascension to the throne next month, after spring time officially arrives,” Gates explained.
He stopped, as there was a sound at the door.
“Is he awake?” a woman’s voice asked. Gail came into Kestrel’s field of vision, her hair still thick and black.
“We’ve just been talking for a couple of minutes. He just woke up,” Gates explained.
“He needs to sleep,” she said. She expertly picked up the straw Gates had put down, and placed the end in Kestrel’s mouth, then picked up a dark green glass bottle, and tilted it carefully to deliver a stream of thick, sticky sweet liquid that Kestrel almost gagged on as he swallowed it.
“I’m sorry, Kestrel,” she said. “I should have dosed you before I left the room,” she apologized.
Kestrel felt the pain dissipate, as a wooly sense of disengagement overtook him.
“You look nice, Gail,” he said with a dreamy smile, and then he fell asleep.
Kestrel awoke again a week later, to find Stillwater floating near a window.
“His eyes are open,” the imp announced. “Welcome to the world of the living, friend warrior,” the blue figure said as he floated over to a position above Kestrel.
There seemed to be less pain than he had felt before, Kestrel decided.
“Stillwater, how are you, my friend?” he asked.
“I am free from the prison. I am able to fly about in the open air and sunlight every day. I get to visit you as much as I like, and the people of this place prepare good food for me, Kestrel friend, so I am as good as an imp can be who is waiting for the end of the Rishiare Estelle,” the imp chatted.
“Are we close to the end of the red sun?” Kestrel asked, closing his eyes and relaxing as his head sunk back into the pillows. The pain was still extreme after all, he realized.
“Every day is a little closer,” Stillwater said philosophically. “And when that last day comes and goes, and we can come and go as we please, do you know where you and I shall go?” Stillwater asked.
“The healing spring,” they said simultaneously, and grinned at one another.
“I thought I heard voices in here,” Gail appeared suddenly. “You shouldn’t be awake,” she said as she glided over to Kestrel’s bedside. Her hair was still black, and worn untied or restrained, a luxuriant spread across her shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” Kestrel asked, puzzled.
“Watching you, though not very well, apparently,” she said as she sat in a chair. She picked up the straw Kestrel had seen before, and placed it on his lips, then poured a gentle stream of the liquid in the green bottle into his mouth.
“Do you come here often?” Kestrel asked. The medicine began to make his tongue feel thick, and slow.
“Whenever I can, to see the great hero,” she smiled at him. “My great hero, who has made my life so much better,” she told him, then leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Now go to sleep,” she said, and
he did.
When he awoke again, there was a man he did not know, who had a pair of scissors, and was cutting away the bandages across his chest. Leaning over the physician’s shoulder, Kestrel saw Duke Listay, Lark, Wren and Gail, while Stillwater hovered overhead.
“Welcome back, young warrior,” the man with the scissors said abstractly, as he began to peel away bandages. Kestrel lay silently, looking up at the expressions on the faces of his friends. There were grimaces, he noted.
“It has healed very well, considering how badly burned his flesh was,” the doctor said, satisfied that his medicine had done its duty. “There is no sign of infection.”
“Those scars, will they heal?” Lark asked.
“They will fade quite a bit,” the doctor said. “They’ll never go away, but they will improve somewhat.” He picked up the scissors again. “Let’s see the rest of our progress,” he said, and he began to snip the cotton that wrapped around Kestrel’s jaws.
The man snipped away the gauze, then placed his scissors down, and Kestrel saw the anticipation on the faces of those above. He felt their anticipation, their tension, seeping into his own psyche, as he wondered what had happened, how long he had laid unconscious, and whether he had healed from his injuries at all.
He remembered the girl, the Triplet who had been left and had attacked. She had shot her energy at him and hit him, just before he had unleashed Lucretia against her. The attack was the last thing he remembered.
And now he was discovering the consequences, such as they were. They were injuries to his body, but his body would heal. He was in pain, but the pain would fade as he healed.
The doctor stopped his delicate snipping, then lifted first one piece of gauze away, then another and another.
“It’s as good as medicine can provide,” the doctor said, but the look Kestrel saw in the eyes of the observers told him that it wasn’t pretty. Lark’s eyes were cringing with disturbance, while Listay’s eyes looked thoughtful, and Gail’s eyes looked sympathetic.
“What changes will there be from here?” Listay asked.
A Marriage of Friends Page 29
