The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 02 - The Yellow Palace

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “Kestrel, it looks much better,” she said as she observed the new, pink flesh that was growing.

  “Go see how Yulia’s head looks,” Kestrel told Picco, uncomfortable with the attention she was paying to him as he sat in the tub. “When she first got injured she was invisible, so I couldn’t even see the wound to tell you how bad it looked then.

  “I think I’m ready to get out of the water,” he said, reaching for the pull string to lower his curtains. “How about you?” he asked Margo.

  “Yes, I suppose,” Margo agreed, and she lowered her curtains as well.

  “That leaves all the hot water for you to bathe in, Greysen. I’m sure you’d like to appeal to your monarch by smelling and looking fresh and clean for at least one day,” Kestrel spoke through the curtain, as he pulled his robe on, then raised the curtain.

  “You will feel much better,” Yulia agreed, talking to the boy. “I appreciate you doing this,” she added, leaving him no choice.

  “And then later today, perhaps we can practice some weapons training,” Kestrel offered an olive branch that made the boy’s eyes light up.

  “And we can go look through the wardrobes upstairs and find some suitable clothes for you,” Margo told Yulia, “since you say Kestrel ruined your favorite blouse!”

  A forlorn Greysen stayed behind as the others left the bathhouse, and the day proved to be a relaxing one. Kestrel twice applied the spring water to his and Yulia’s wounds, and Aunt Ressel took great joy in sharing the old fashioned clothes of her youth with Yulia, as a seamstress made quick adjustments to the garments.

  When Greysen and Kestrel got together in the stableyard after lunch, Greysen wanted to practice swords, the glamorous weapon, which he had already begun to practice in Hydrotaz, before being sent to the Yellow Mansion. But Kestrel made him begin to learn the more practical weapon, the staff, and demonstrated that even a lame person with a staff could fight effectively using the sturdy weapon. The challenge of getting beaten by the hobbled Kestrel in their first practice round provoked the competitor in Greysen, and he insisted on battling until Kestrel insisted they end the lesson three hours later.

  And so the next morning came and they left immediately after breakfast. Thanks to the healing spring water, Kestrel’s leg was sound enough for him to trot alongside the others on horseback, as Yulia and Greysen doubled up on a horse.

  “Aunt Ressel had the best time yesterday sharing her clothes and telling stories,” Margo said as they crested the knoll and left the estate behind. “She’ll be smiling for days!”

  I’m glad we left her with some happiness,” Kestrel said. “She was very generous in the provisions she provided,” he referred to the saddlebags they carried full of food and clean clothes.

  They rode throughout the day, and at Kestrel’s insistence they spent the night camped in woods, sitting around a fire and eating the food Aunt Ressel had provided, while Kestrel enchanted them all by testing his gnomish pipes, cutting and adjusting them until he achieved the pitch he wanted, and he played a lively elfish tune. Kestrel further surprised them by setting up a watch for the night, and assigned Yulia to first watch, himself to second watch, and Greysen to the last watch. He anticipated that he needed to begin to train his Hydrotaz companions in the art of traveling through hostile territory. Greysen grumbled at first, but quieted after Yulia acknowledged the value of a watch rotation.

  Thereafter they rode through rain, which was made a less unpleasant task thanks to slickers that Ressel had also packed for them, and they stayed in a small village inn that night, the girls in one room and the boys in the other. Kestrel and Greysen practiced their skills with the staff after dinner in the stables, then went to bed for the night.

  The next day was the day they rode into Margo’s home manor, and found a scene of horror.

  Chapter 15– Finding the Horror

  The low, gray rain clouds remained in the sky, scudding overhead, though showers were only intermittent on the third day of their ride.

  By noon, as they stopped for a bite of lunch, Margo reckoned they were only a couple of hours away from the manor house.

  “Should there usually be a lot of traffic on this road?” Greysen asked.

  “Not a lot, not this time of year,” Margo replied. “It’s too early for the harvest to be coming in.”

  “There’ve been a lot of horses’ hoof prints in the mud,” the boy mentioned.

  “Let’s go out to the road and take a look,” Kestrel suggested, pleased by the boy’s power of observation, as he berated himself for not noticing the same, and the two went out to look closely at the stone and mud surface of the road.

  “Here’s a fresh hoof print that doesn’t even have a puddle in it,” Greysen pointed out.

  Kestrel stood and looked down the road ahead, seeing nothing ominous among the rolling hills that were in view.

  “Let’s keep our eyes open Greysen. I was expecting one friend to possibly be on his way up here, but this looks to be at least a dozen horses, maybe many more. They’re probably friendly, but maybe not,” he said.

  They went back to the women and told them what they’d seen. “Maybe Philip has brought some others with him to help protect the manor,” Margo suggested.

  “I think that’s a possibility, and it’s why I’m not too worried yet,” Kestrel replied. “I’m going to go travel in front of you to scout around a little, and then I’ll come back to report,” he said as they all reached the road. “If you see anything that troubles you while I’m gone, I want you all to ride back to the closest village, and wait out of sight. I’ll come looking for you.”

  Kestrel pushed his speed upward, and accelerated from a trot to a brisk run that soon put him out of sight of the rest of his group, as he looked along the road for signs of who else might be traveling north on horseback. When he figured he had been away for half an hour from the others he went roving back to check on them, then departed again to scout further. He repeated the process until his fourth time out, when he discovered that the tracks split up at the base of a hill, three groups spreading out, appearing to be fifteen to twenty horses in all. There was a smell of smoke in the air, he noticed as he walked into the woods to look at the tracks and follow them a short distance in either direction.

  He heard a hail from behind him, and saw that his companions were in sight, causing him to hurriedly sprint back to them.

  “Is that how fast you ran when you ran across the water?” Yulia asked.

  “Almost,” Kestrel answered as he came to a stop.

  “We’re almost home, Kestrel,” Margo said. “The manor is just beyond that rise.”

  “Listen,” Kestrel told them all. “The tracks we’ve seen split up just this side of the hill, and I smell smoke. All of you stay here, and if anything looks bad or suspicious, ride back to the village– same plan as before.”

  With that he departed from them and ran forward, then drifted off the road into the trees on the left and climbed the hill to look down on the manor house and determine the status there.

  Kestrel quickly reached the crown of the hill, from which he could observe the manor. Smoke was rolling out of the upper windows, and several bodies hung loosely from tree limbs, as soldiers in blue walked about the grounds, entering and leaving the buildings without concern.

  He felt tears start to roll down his cheeks as he thought of the distinguished Paul, the Baron who lived and ruled over the lands all around, now hanging dead outside his home, next to his wife. Sisbeen, Margo's childhood nurse, was there as well, along with others he did not know.

  It was awful, a violent, senseless slaughter. Only the lack of Philip's body was something Kestrel could find some morsel of satisfaction in. He didn't see Philip at all, perhaps indicating that Margo's brother hadn't arrived yet– which meant that Kestrel needed to get back to the road to turn his companions around as well as prevent Philip from riding into the death trap below.

  Then, just as he prepared to depart, Kestrel s
aw something that ignited his rage, creating an anger and heart-stopping hatred that burned intensely within his soul. Emerging from the front of the manor was the leader of the deadly raid, a man who was saluted by the soldiers who snapped to attention upon his appearance. Kestrel's sharp elven eyes saw Clarce, friend and presumed supporter of the rebellion. Clarce, the man Margo was in love with, had betrayed her, and killed her family.

  Kestrel pulled his bow over his shoulder, and heard a voice call from nearby. "Kestrel, what's taking so long? What do you see?" Picco asked from below– the girl was already halfway up the hill behind him and walking closer.

  Kestrel pulled his boots off without answering, his fury continuing to build within him, then took off his shirt.

  "Kestrel, what are you doing?" The girl was approaching him.

  His anger was consuming him so violently that his brain could not even formulate words to answer her question. His mind wanted to confront and attack the workers of the betrayal below, and he was committing himself to carrying out remorseless revenge.

  Picco reached him, then looked over the hill and saw the horror below. "Oh stones, Kestrel," she wailed, "how could this be?"

  Kestrel removed his pants. "Picco," he said looking at her shocked face, "Clarce is down there; he's the leader of those butchers he's a traitor.

  "I'm going to go repay death with death. If I don't come back, take everyone back to Ressel's estateand hide," he said. “And watch for Philip on the way,” he added.

  “There’s a terrible scene down there that needs to be settled in an equally terrible way,” he said before he picked up his knife, his bow and arrows, and the vial the goddess had given him, then ran down the hill towards the manor.

  Chapter 16– Wreaking Revenge

  Kestrel took up a position close to the manor, hidden among evergreen bushes and undetected by the guards, then selected his targets. There were seven soldiers in sight, including Clarce. Kestrel chose Clarce as his first target; he shot an arrow that struck Clarce's right thigh, and then the second arrow a moment later struck his left leg, dropping him to the ground with both legs incapacitated as the man cried in pain, immobilized where Kestrel intended to visit and deal with him later.

  The nearby guards looked at Clarce, uncertain why he was on the ground screaming, then they began to fall, one by one, as arrows rapidly struck each of them. Those who saw what was happening to their comrades began to shout and flee. Their cries attracted the attention of others inside the house, who looked out the window to see what was happening, only to fall victim to Kestrel's arrows, as they presented themselves to him as opportune targets.

  There were more guards on the mission than he had realized, Kestrel concluded as he pulled his last arrow free. Men were still moving below, taking positions to defend themselves and beginning to fire back. Kestrel put his bow down, took a sip of the vial from the goddess, then put the vial on the ground next to the bow and began to run, invisible, down to mingle among the palace guards and spread death to every man he could find.

  He sprinted down to the closest pair of men, crouching behind a tree. He pulled the sword from the scabbard on the hip of one man and sliced the blade through his neck, then stabbed it into the startled guard who turned to see what was happening to his partner. Kestrel left the sword in the man's chest, then stalked unseen toward the next set of victims. He picked up a sword from a dead man's body, one with an arrow in his heart, and stabbed the blade into the stomach of a man transfixed by the sight of the sword that was self-propelled. Kestrel circled behind the next man he encountered and wrenched his head violently, snapping his victim’s neck.

  A guardsman screamed incoherently at the sight of men falling to death without reason. All the members of the squad on the mission had been told to expect no resistance. They were cowardly bullies who never knowingly allowed themselves to enter a situation where they faced danger, yet somehow death and danger had found them and was unexpectedly stalking them now.

  Kestrel sprinted to the stables, where he intercepted a handful of cowards who intended to flee. He caught a man halfway in his saddle and pulled the man to the ground, then landed a hard knee on his throat, crushing it and leaving the man to gurgle to a painful death, as Kestrel took the man's knife and threw it at the next closest man, frightening the others away.

  With the stables and horses secure, Kestrel walked towards the house. There was smoke within, but he heard voices too, shouting in confusion. He entered the servants’ door, and found a guardsman in a smoke-filled room gathering silver plate hurriedly, a man who dropped dead when Kestrel broke his neck. There were footsteps behind him, and another voice shouted, "Look– there where the smoke swirled– I saw a man-shape."

  Three arrows flew at him, and one of them struck his chest, bouncing off, while one missed completely, but the third one hit and sank into his right shoulder. He fell backward from the force of the arrow’s impact, and he laid still, stunned momentarily. Kestrel looked down at himself and saw the arrow protruding from his flesh, but he felt absent from the scene, as though he were somewhere outside his body observing what took place from a distance, as his rage at Clarce’s betrayal of Margo still drove him to act with a berserk disregard for possible consequences. He reached over with his left hand and snapped the shaft off, then rose to his knees and crawled toward the three fearful men, who were in the smoky room with him, all fearfully looking around in every directions. He pulled one man's legs hard, knocking him down, then snatched the man’s knife and planted it in the kidney of the second man. The third man stood screaming, frozen in fear of the unseen enemy, his soul seemingly already resigned to be killed by the unseen agent, and Kestrel easily snapped his neck, then stabbed the first fallen man who was trying to crawl away.

  The room grew silent, and Kestrel listened to the sound of a fire burning somewhere, but heard no other sounds that indicated any of the rest of the invaders were still alive in the home. He crouched low beneath the smoke and carefully moved to the front of the house.

  Clarce lay on the ground, moaning, but no one else moved or made a sound. Kestrel counted fifteen guardsmen he had killed or wounded. He looked down at himself, and saw that between smoky soot, blood, and dirt, his invisible body betrayed most of a visible shape– a dismal, multi-colored shadow of a man. He walked over to Clarce, and pulled the man's knife from his belt.

  “Mercy, please ha ve mercy!" Clarce pleaded.

  “How many men did you have here?" Kestrel asked. Sixteen guards and one prisoner," Clarce sobbed. Kestrel heard

  the sound of hooves galloping behind the house; apparently one survivor had snuck into the stables and was attempting to escape. Kestrel hurriedly went to a dead guardsman’s body and took his bow, then strung an arrow, and as an escaping horseman came into view, Kestrel's shaft cut him down. He threw the bow down and returned to Clarce.

  "Who is the prisoner? Where is he?" Kestrel bowed down very close and asked quietly.

  Clarce suddenly threw his arms up and caught Kestrel, his hands wrapped around Kestrel’s neck, trying to choke him, and pulling him down onto the ground.

  “You're mine now, unseen man," the traitor crowed.

  While his right hand tried to pull the choking fingers away from his throat, Kestrel reached over with his left hand and began to grab and stab the arrows that remained planted in Clarce's legs from Kestrel’s initial, disabling shots, making Clarce release his hold on Kestrel and scream in agony again.

  “Who is the prisoner, and where is he?” Kestrel asked again.

  “Kestrel? Kestrel! You meddling intruder!” Clarce spat out. “I recognize your voice!”

  Kestrel grabbed an arrow again, and jabbed it further into the leg, until he felt it hit the bone, as Clarce screamed. He saw his own hand’s motion, the flesh visible beneath the grime, and realized that he was visible now, his invisibility serum worn off.

  “Tell me about the prisoner,” Kestrel shouted, as he rose and picked up another bow and arrow. He s
tood over Clarce and aimed downward. “We can do this long and slow, or fast and painless. Your friends at the palace taught me a lot about slow and painful, believe me.”

  “It’s Philip; he’s chained in the basement,” Clarce shouted.

  “Kestrel!” he heard a voice call, and saw Margo looking down at him.

  “Oh gods!” he said softly, appalled at the prospect that she might see the sickening devastation around the manor.

  “That’s Margo up there Clarce,” he said through gritted teeth. “What will she think when she finds out you murdered her parents?”

  “Kill me now, please,” Clarce spoke in an anguished tone that Kestrel sensed was heartfelt.

  “Stay here,” Kestrel ordered unnecessarily, then dropped his bow and ran to meet Margo.

  “Kestrel!” she said. “Tell me, is it bad down there?” she looked only in his eyes, even though he was still unclothed.

  “Kestrel! You’re wounded!” she looked at the broken shaft that protruded from his shoulder.

  “Margo. It’s very bad down there right now. I don’t want you to see the things down there. You shouldn’t have such nightmares the rest of your life,” he told her, thankful for her weak human eyesight. “Go back down to the foot of the hill and wait. I think Philip may be there, and he may bealive,” he took her by the arm and led her away from the crest of the hill, to the spot where his clothes lay just as he had left them.

  His shoulder was starting to ache, as his berserker exhilaration began to seep away. “Help me pull my pants on please, and I’ll go see if Philip is alive. My arm is starting to ache, and I can’t move it to reach down,” he told her.

  “Oh Kestrel,” she looked up at him through teary eyes as she pulled the belt tight around his hips, “how bad is it?”

  “I hope Philip is alive, but he’ll be the only one, my sweet friend,” Kestrel said, then enveloped her carefully in a hug as she started to cry hysterically.

  “Picco!” he called, and waited for the blond girl. “Here,” he motioned to Margo when Picco arrived. “Take her away. Don’t let her go down there and see what they’ve done. Send Greysen to meet me in front of the house,” he told her, “and set up camp in the woods. We can’t go to the manortonight.” Margo gave another heartfelt scream of anguish, as Picco encircled the traumatized girl’s shoulders in her own gentle arms, and the blond girl looked over Margo’s bent head with tears in her own eyes, as she watched Kestrel go running down the hill again.