The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 03 - Road of Shadows

by Jeffrey Quyle

  How much to reveal, he asked himself. Was this even the real Moorin, or was it some other fake, a replica that somehow an evil power had knowledge of, and was using to confound him once again.

  “She said I would need to rescue you,” he replied cautiously.

  Her eyes lit up, and she stared at him intently, then seemed to have second thoughts and sat far back in her chair. “Look at you, you’re a mess. You’re not here to rescue me; so far I’ve been here to save you.”

  “Did you ask the guards about the battle? What did they say?” Kestrel asked, reminded of his injury and the circumstances from the night before.

  “They didn’t say a lot, which tells me things didn’t go well from their perspective,” Moorin answered. “They agreed there was a battle, but ‘only a few’ got away, was all they said,” she told him.

  Kestrel hoped that Philip was one of the few.

  “How can I get out of the palace grounds?” he asked her.

  “Do you want to go out dead or alive?” she asked. “It will be easy if you’re dead. It would take some careful planning to get you out alive. You can’t run a lick on that leg, can you?” she asked the obvious.

  “I came in by passing from a tree outside the palace fence to one inside the fence. If I could get back to the trees, I think I could make it out,” he told her.

  “I doubt you could climb a tree,” she said candidly.

  “I have to try,” he said insistently. “There’s so much that depends on the tasks I have to carry out.”

  “You’re so important as all that, are you?” she asked mockingly.

  “I am,” he paused, “well, I’m not, but the mission I’ve been given is,” Kestrel replied. “Really, believe me. And you’re part of it; Kere told me that I must rescue you, then take you with me until I could save you.”

  “What were you drinking?” Moorin asked.

  “Why are you here, Moorin? Do you need to be rescued?” Kestrel asked.

  “Yes, I would appreciate some heroic action on my behalf. But I don’t think you’re the one to rescue me – or save me! – in your current physical conditions,” she answered.

  A cloud passed from in front of the sun at that moment, and the room brightened dramatically as newly liberated sunrays entered through the windows.

  “Your eyes! They’re purple!” Moorin said suddenly, seeing them clearly for the first time. “They’re gorgeous; I’ve never seen anything like them except on the gnome traders.

  “How did you get purple eyes? Were you born that way?” she asked, her face just inches from his as she examined him.

  Kestrel studied her face as well, intently noting the fine whorls of her semi-elven ears, and the flawless texture of her skin. Her hair curled into delicate ringlets behind her ears and along the nape of her neck.

  “Well, at least you’re not looking down my décolletage,” Moorin laughed as she backed away from him. “I was looking at your eyes you know,” she told him as he looked at her in confusion, “so I saw that you were studying me. How long has it been since you’ve seen a woman?”

  “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen one as elegantly beautiful as you,” Kestrel answered without thinking.

  She sat up straight, and Kestrel realized that he had voiced his thoughts.

  “Kestrel,” Moorin said after several seconds of awkward silence, “I’ve heard similar statements from many men in the past, but I don’t think I’ve ever believed it was meant as sincerely and innocently as it was said by you. You’re not even trying to undress me with your eyes at the moment.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kestrel said.

  “Sorry? You don’t need to be sorry. An elf as handsome as you, with eyes as striking as yours? What woman would object to hearing your sweet nothings?” she teased him.

  “So how do you come to have such eyes?” she asked again.

  “Last winter, or the winter before, I guess, I stayed with a village of gnomes in the Water Mountains, and they gave me a drink of water from a sacred spring. It turned my eyes purple,” he explained.

  “You lived with gnomes? I’ve never heard of such a thing! And what about that ring I took off of you, the one that changed your appearance? Where did it come from?” she asked.

  And so, bit by bit, Kestrel began to cautiously explain selected pieces of his background, fascinating Moorin with every new revelation, maintaining secrecy about many things in his most recent past, but finally even telling her some things he had never shared with any of his elven friends – Backsin, Cheryl, Arlen.

  “My mother moved from her home village soon after I was born. I was raised in Elmheng, but she was from farther north, a little place named Gretna Green. She said she had a sister, but they never made any contact that I know of,” he admitted among his other topics.

  “That’s so sad, to think that sisters would never see one another again,” Moorin replied. “And you never knew anything about your aunt?”

  “No, nothing at all,” Kestrel admitted. He’d never even really thought of his mother’s sister as an aunt, though she was truly such, he realized.

  “What was her name. Your mother?” Moorin gently probed.

  “Merepoule,” he said the name softly, “she used to wear a silver necklace with an opal pendant. I remember that – it was the only jewelry she had. When she was buried, she was wearing it, the finest possession she had,” he added.

  Moorin could tell he didn’t want to reveal any more of that topic. It was a name he had almost never actually pronounced, one that had been buried deep within his memories, rarely used, the mother who had been emotionally damaged, and had died at a far-too early age, leaving Kestrel to join the Guard at the youngest age possible. He would say no more on that topic, and he immediately proceeded to return to telling of the other chapters of his life, leaving no opening for Moorin to ask any further about his family.

  His story-telling continued going on, keeping Moorin sitting at the table, her chin resting in the palm of her hand as she listened in rapt attention until there was a knock at the door.

  “Oh Kere preserve us!” she said, scandalized. “Quick Kestrel, hide in the closet. I had no idea what time it was! Hide – hurry,” she urged as she stood and started to go in one direction and then another.

  Kestrel rose, flustered and confused by her sense of urgency, his head suddenly hurting badly, as he hobbled over to the closet. He saw Moorin rush to her bedroom door, and he pulled the closet door closed behind him, then sat on the floor and slid far to the back, pulling a gown down from the shelf above and using it to cover himself.

  “You majesty,” he heard Moorin’s voice faintly greet a visitor. “My apologies for my state of dress; I’ve been lounging in bed with a terrible headache all morning,” she said.

  “Lady Moorin, I’m so sorry to hear that my favorite countess is not well. I’d be most happy to join you in your bedroom, if you’d like,” Kestrel heard a voice he recognized and associated with terrible memories, the voice of the prince of Graylee.

  “I’m sure you would. However,” Moorin said, and then their voices faded as they left the front door and entered some distant room in Moorin’s house.

  Kestrel realized he was holding his breath. He exhaled, then tried to think about what he should do. He needed to escape, then he needed to heal, then he needed to come back and set Moorin free from her captivity here; at least, he presumed it was captivity.

  “Dewberry,” he called softly. “Dewberry, Dewberry,” he chanted the name three times, for the first time in a long time, relieved to remember that the sprites were once again available to answer his call.

  “Friend Kestrel? Where are you? This is no time to play games hiding in the dark, my beloved. I have something very serious to talk to you about,” Dewberry spoke.

  “Ssh, keep you voice down, lovely sprite,” Kestrel whispered. He felt Dewberry settle to the floor, then come clamber up onto him.

  “Ouch!” he yelped as she stepped on his broken ankle.


  “Are you alright, mighty lover?” Dewberry asked, concern in her voice.

  “I’m injured, my friend, and I’m trapped in this hostile place. I need the favor of a rescue, if you and others could take me to the healing spring, and then bring me back to Graylee,” Kestrel explained.

  “Sweet heart, dear heart, most beloved, I’m afraid I am not allowed to help you,” Dewberry shocked Kestrel by replying. “There has been a terrible misunderstanding at court, and Jonson’s father has forbidden us from transporting you until you come to his court in person and introduce yourself as his new neighbor,” she explained.

  “He is very old and easily upset, and somehow he has come to believe that the reason we were gone for so long must be your fault, and he believes that you have been rude to have become his neighbor among the elves and not come to visit him in the Morass,” Dewberry’s voice was very quiet, and Kestrel realized how embarrassed and pained she felt with her shameful news.

  “We know how very, very wrong his behavior is, but we must obey him, since he is the king of the imps,” she told him. “I am so sorry, Kestrel,” he heard the tears in her voice. “We have argued and battled over this since the moment we returned, but he will not listen.”

  He closed his eyes and bowed his head in dismay. He had counted on a simple and foolproof means of escape from the Graylee palace, thanks to the sprites; now, that obvious means of solving his problem was no longer available.

  “I know it’s not your fault,” Kestrel told Dewberry, hoping to reduce her evident distress.

  “Thank you dear. That’s kind of you to say,” Kestrel felt Dewberry climb up his body, and then her lips were pressed against his, in a kiss that was full of sweet affection and remorse.

  And at that moment the closet door opened and the closet was flooded with light.

  “Kestrel! You’re making out in my closet with a sprite!” Moorin shrieked.

  “Beloved? Who is this virago?” Dewberry asked, blinking in the light as she turned to face Moorin.

  “Dewberry, please excuse us. I’ll call you again soon and we can talk my dear,” Kestrel said.

  “You will be okay without my help, Kestrel-friend?” Dewberry asked.

  “I believe so,” Kestrel answered.

  “Farewell then,” Dewberry effortlessly floated up into the air, twirling slowly so that she faced Moorin. “Farewell, shrill one. Kestrel has had many lovers prettier than you, though none prettier than me,” she said, and then disappeared.

  “Oh my stars, Kestrel,” Moorin said, standing in the doorway looking down at him. “You really do know sprites! Were all those stories you told this morning true? I never would have believed it!” she said.

  “Moorin, could you bring another cup of willow bark tea, maybe a couple of cups?” Kestrel asked, his spirits dashed by Dewberry’s refusal to help him, and his hand and ankle throbbing with pain.

  “Oh, of course. Come out and have a seat at the table; the prince is gone and no one will be here until dinner,” she replied. “Since I am just a plain gallery serf compared to the great beauties your sprite friend knows, I am only too happy to humbly serve you,” she told him as she mockingly bowed, then disappeared from view, but there was no sting in her words.

  Kestrel dragged his injured leg behind him as he reached the small table, then closed his eyes. He couldn’t stay hidden in Moorin’s closet forever; he needed to figure out how to escape. He needed not only the healing water for himself, but he needed to retrieve the water given to him by Decimindion, so that he could start his crusade against the Viathins of Uniontown. It would only be a matter of time until he was caught if he remained in Moorin’s home, and then both of them would face dire consequences, he was sure.

  Moorin backed into the room, holding a tray that carried an entire pot of tea, as well as bread and fruit. “I thought that your greatness might want something to eat,” Moorin announced as she set the tray down upon the table and sat in her chair.

  “Moorin, don’t take Dewberry seriously when she says things like that. She’s a very passionate sprite, but her heart is in the right place. She’s a very loyal friend,” Kestrel said as he poured the tea. “And it wasn’t true, anyway.”

  “Which part wasn’t true – that you’ve had many lovers, or that they’re all prettier than me?” Moorin asked.

  “Neither part was true,” Kestrel hastily said. He started to sip his tea.

  “Why are you here?” he asked simply.

  “I was captured on my way from Kirevee to Seafare, and brought back to Graylee as a prisoner to be ransomed,” Moorin finally answered. “The prince of Graylee saw me, and fell in love with me. He keeps me here; he asked me to marry him, and he says he’ll keep me here until I say yes.

  “I cannot agree though, because I do not love him or respect him or trust him, and because I am engaged to be married to Ruelin, the prince of Seafare,” Moorin told him.

  Kestrel froze, a piece of bread held in mid-air on its way to his open mouth as he listened in astonishment to her story.

  “You’re going to be the princess of Seafare?” Kestrel asked.

  “I was; but since Uniontown conquered the county and since Namber is holding me here, it doesn’t look likely,” she replied, as she took a sip from the cup of tea that Kestrel had poured for her. “And that’s okay. I rushed into the engagement for the wrong reasons.

  “By the way, here’s your magic ring back,” she delicately poked a finger down into her cleavage and withdrew the ring, which she handed to Kestrel.

  He inadvertently blushed at the warmth of the metal, knowing that it was her body heat he held, then he placed the ring on his left hand.

  “Look at you! You look like a pure-bred elf now! Who are you, and what is the ring?” Moorin asked.

  Kestrel explained the ring, and then explained his own mixed heritage.

  “My mother was elven, and my father was a human nobleman, from North Harbor, but he came to live at my mother’s home among the elves. That’s why I’m a countess; my mother was the granddaughter of the king of the northern elves, and my father is the count of Grey Fjord,” she explained.

  Kestrel moved the ring to his right hand. “Kestrel, you’re three men in one!” Moorin teased him. “And you are handsome in each regard; no wonder you have that string of women your sprite mentioned.”

  “Dewberry has an active imagination on behalf of my romantic life, “Kestrel grinned. “I need to get out of here tonight, and I want you to go with me,” Kestrel said suddenly. “Do you have any rope I can use to help me climb the trees?” he asked.

  “Kestrel, I’m being held here in secret captivity as the love interest of the prince. No one has given me a coil of rope,” Moorin said with that same amused smile she had shown to Kestrel so often, one that enchanted him. “Why don’t you go back to the closet and get some rest this afternoon? I really need to get dressed, or someone will grow suspicious.”

  Kestrel obediently retreated to Moorin’s closet once again, his pain reduced as the tea worked its power upon him, and he fell into a drowsy state of slumber.

  “Wake up, Kestrel. Is this how a hero goes about his business, sleeping in the closet of the beauty he’s supposed to rescue?” Kestrel felt a tap on his shoulder as a voice pecked at his consciousness.

  “Here, take this,” he felt something bumped against his chest. He opened his eyes, but in the closet’s darkness he could only see the bare outline of someone standing very close to him.

  “Who are you?” he asked. He moved his good hand to grasp the small jar that he felt a delicate hand pressing upon him.

  “How quickly they forget,” the woman’s voice tragically exclaimed. “You’re dealing with so many gods and goddesses now that your own native land’s goddess is forgotten.”

  “My lady, Kere!” Kestrel exclaimed. “I honor you, my goddess,” he said as he sat up straight, fearful that the divine being might truly think he had ceased to worship her.

  “Of c
ourse you do Kestrel, I know that. The sincerity of your love is one of your charming strengths!” the goddess told him affectionately. “Now,” she used a more serious tone, “this vial contains enough of the invisibility serum so that you and Moorin will be able to escape from this palace. The serum is altered slightly from the item you had before; you must mix a few drops of the liquid in the palm of Moorin’s hand, and then add a drop of your own blood before she drinks it. And likewise, pour the remainder in your own palm, add a drop of her blood, and then swallow it to give you the same protection. Now, you need to stop shirking your duty by hiding in this closet. Get out there tonight and get on with your mission.”

  “I plan to go to Hydrotaz to add a drop of Yulia’s blood to the water from Decimindion,” Kestrel said. “Should I take Moorin with me?”

  “Yes,” Kere replied with a hint of exasperation. “Don’t you remember your instructions? From now on you are to take her with you until you have saved her, and then her destiny will be clear.”

  “I don’t understand, my goddess, but I will take her with me, everywhere I go from now on,” Kestrel said.

  “Exactly,” the goddess agreed.

  “Kere,” Kestrel used the familiarity of her name without realizing, as he decided to ask some of the questions that had arisen in his mind during his adventures in the distant lands, “in the land of the Parstoles, they said that one of their goddesses died, because the Viathins destroyed her temples and killed her priests. Could that happen here?”

  “It could,” the goddess acknowledged carefully. “It is a real worry. These invaders know what they need to do to weaken a society so that it is easier to take over and consume. The death of a deity is the greatest blow that can be struck.”

  Kestrel hesitated, then decided to ask the question that he feared. “Is Kai dying? Has she given too much of herself to help me? The goddess on Albanu took the force that Kai put into my body for the protective tattoo of the champion, and that energy helped her to live.”

  A light appeared above Kestrel in the closet. “Let me see,” Kere commanded, and she pulled Kestrel’s shirt away from his chest, examining the spot where the tattoo had been removed.