The Guided Journey (Book 6) (9 page)

“That’s why he is the Warden of the Marches of the Eastern Forest, after all,” Whyte said, using Kestrel’s official title.

That night, Kestrel spoke to Whyte before retiring.  “I’m going to go to Hydrotaz later this week,” he announced.

“Will you have the imps carry you there?” the steward asked.  “That’s a considerable journey, I believe.”

“We’re actually as close to Hydrotaz city as we are to Center Trunk from way down here,” Kestrel said.  “But I’m going to run.  I’ll take the boys and nurses out on a trip to visit villages in that direction, and then send them back here while I keep on going.  I’d like to visit friends, and find out what they make of these pebbles,” he explained his plans.

Two days later, he and the same entourage that had been to Little Wheel set out to the northwest.  It was planned to be only a short trip for Jacquie, Parisse, Remy and Pont – only three villages in two days before they turned around and headed back.  Kestrel would not head back; he would keep going, alone, and cross the border into Hydrotaz.

Kestrel had decided that he would run through the country to reach Hydrotaz City.  Once in the city he would visit his friends, Lucretia, the East Forest ambassador to the human of Hydrotaz, and her chief gu
ard, his friend Giardell.  He would also visit the human court if possible, to see Yulia, the ruling princess, and Ferris and Greysen and Mitchell, and the handful of other humans who were acquaintances and friends in Hydrotaz.

H
e would ask about the pebbles from the imps, to see if anyone could explain them.  That would be his stated reason for going to see the humans, and it would be true.  But he would also go to Hydrotaz to see friends, to leave behind the strangely oppressive awe and respect that he was subject to in Oaktown, where everyone saw him as a member of the nobility, and treated him as such.  And through Yulia, he could perhaps get news of Philip and Margo, perhaps even news of Picco and Creata and Wren.

He might even buy a horse; he longed for one.  The humans had them.  He wanted one.  Of course, he would have to
have stables built at the manor first, he realized, so perhaps he would only shop for horses on this trip, then start a building project to construct stables before he actually bought a steed.

The nurses began the trip with the same bickering attitude they had started the last trip, and Kestrel wondered if the bickering was simply their way of reacting to change and being unsettled.  The boys were rambunctious on the other hand, and Kestrel had to rein in their high spirits from time to time, usually by taking some small piece of cargo from one of the nurses and adding it to the loads carried by the boys.  After two hours and three additions, the boys settled into resorting to surreptitious whispering and laughter rather than scampering and bumping, but almost immediately afterwards the group reached the first village Kestrel wished to visit.

They unloaded everything at the local tavern, where few people – only a few – were gathered at mid-day.   Kestrel made his announcement, and then sent Pont and Remy out to knock on doors and to visit the local shops, while he moved tables out of the inn and helped the nurses set up.

The residents of the village came in slowly; many were out in the forest performing chores or traveling, but Kestrel and his troupe left at mid-afternoon with a promise to return again another day, and they walked further northwest to a small village known as Foggy Bottom, where they announced their arrival and spent the night before treating nearly the entire population the next morning.  Afterwards they went to the last village Kestrel planned to visit with his company, and they had the same mid-day, semi-successful amount of treatment delivered to the residents as they had experienced in the first village of the journey.

“You all should go back to Foggy Bottom and spend tonight at the inn there, then go home tomorrow.  I’m going on a journey to Hydrotaz, but I’ll return in a few days.  Thank you for helping me reach out to the people of the Eastern Marches,” he told the nurses and boys.

“You’ll go among those humans?  Will you be safe?” Jacquie asked.

“I’ve got my staff,” he held up the weapon that the Green Water blacksmith had made for him.  “And I’m faster than them,” he added with a smile.  “And there are always the imps as my allies if I need them,” he concluded his efforts to put the woman at ease.

“If you say so,” Jacquie replied doubtfully.

“You’ll be back in time to have the next market for the imps, won’t you?” Pont asked.

“Absolutely,” Kestrel said confidently.  And minutes later he was off and running.

He carried a pack that had supplies for five days, which he expected to be enough.  He had his staff and a knife on his hip, though it was not the wonderfully enchanted Lucretia, the knife that Kai had given him so long ago in Estone.  He had a skin of water from the healing spring, a pouch full of the shiny white pebbles, and he had a purse with copper and silver coins.  All in all, he felt reasonably confident that he would encounter few problems greater than disapproval of elves while he was among the humans of Hydrotaz, and for a short visit he could accept that.

He passed through another village without stopping, and spent the night in a tree.  He was approaching the region where the humans of Hydrotaz, the elves of the Eastern Forest (in the
Western Marches portion of the forest), and the imps of the Swampy Morass all held or claimed territory, so that the three nations came together at some point.  In fact, none of the races had very much population in the area, so there was seldom much interaction.  The elven guards of the Eastern Forest had watchers located along the periphery of the border with Hydrotaz, but there were few others Kestrel was likely to meet for the next day or two of travels.  He had been just such a watcher himself, stationed in the north at Elmheng, when he had spotted the fire started by the men of Hydrotaz, at the very beginning of his adventures.

The next morning rain started to fall as he climbed down from the tree.  The foliage of the tree was still leafing out, not thick enough to offer much protection from the rain as Kestrel started running, and he quickly grew thoroughly soaked as he slowed his pace and watched his footing along the slick wet way.  The path turned into a rivulet and patches of mud, reducing his speed dramatically, and he found no further villages or settlements to offer shelter.

Kestrel was only a mile from the beginning of the open lands of Hydrotaz, when an elf dropped down onto the trail in front of him, slipping from a lookout spot in a tree.

“Who are you and where are you going?” the guard asked.

“I am Kestrel, the Warden of the Marches, the lord of the manor at Oaktown, and I’m on my way to Hydrotaz,” Kestrel answered.

The guard appeared to relax.

“Why would an elf want to go there?” he asked.

“I have human friends there, and I know the elven ambassador.  I want to ask for some advice from the humans,” Kestrel told the guard.

“No elf can really have friends among the humans, can they?” the guard asked dismissively.  “You’re just headed towards trouble.”

“An elf can have friends if he makes the effort to be a friend,” Kestrel replied quietly.  “And I’m part human myself,” he pushed his hood back, letting the guard see his ears and eyebrows for several seconds before he pulled the hood back into place.

“I expect to return in a few days,” Kestrel told the elf.  “Will you still be on duty here?”

“My assignment just started last week.  I’ll be here for another two months,” the guard grunted, and started towards the tree trunk.  Kestrel stepped forward to resume his journey.

“Have a quiet tour of duty,” Kestrel offered.

“Safe travels.  I hope you make it back safely,” the guard replied, and then they parted ways.

Chapter 7 – Robbery in the Streets

Kestrel ran throughout the day.  He left the heavy forest and passed through a transitional mix of fields and forests, then followed the narrow trail that represented the only connection between Hydrotaz and Oaktown as it passed across an open plain.  In the evening he came to a village, while the sky was still gray and rain continued to drizzle down.

It was time to put his plan to its first test.  He decided he was going to walk into the human tavern and ask for a room and a meal.  In his planning and consideration of the trip, this moment had been a theoretical event, one he hoped would go well, but now it was real.

He opened the door as a gust of wind came through the village main street, and he had to pull vigorously to prevent the door from flying out of his grip.  He shut it firmly, then turned and faced the innkeeper, who stood in front of him.

Kestrel still had his hood up, and in the dim interior of the public room he was indistinguishable from a human.

“I’d like dinner and a room for the night,” he told the innkeeper, speaking in the human language for the first time in weeks.

“You’ve got an accent,” the man answered in a neutral voice.  “You’re not from Graylee, are you?”  Kestrel instantly understood that there were still bitter feelings towards the other human nation, Graylee, the nation that had invaded and disastrously occupied Hydrotaz for several months, while it was a proxy for Uniontown.

“No, not Graylee,” Kestrel answered slowly.  He put his hand up to his hood, paused, then pulled the wet cloth back, revealing his elven heritage.  “I’m from the Eastern Forest, on my way to see Princess Yulia in the palace,” he answered.

“I’m an elf.”

The innkeeper dropped the stein of ale he was carrying, and the tavern room grew quiet as all heads turned to look at the accident.  The moment of silence was shattered as a hubbub arose among the men and women who sat drinking and eating.

“Will you accept me as a customer or not?” Kestrel asked.

The innkeeper shook his head ever so slightly.

Men were arising from their seats and approaching the front desk.

“Should I go?” Kestrel asked quietly.

“You don’t have to go,” a man’s voice boomed out, and Kestrel breathed a sigh of relief.  He recognized the voice of Sergeant Mitchell of the Palace Guard, a member of the Hydrotaz forces who had been a firsthand witness to the appearance of the Goddess Kai, when the goddess had appeared in her desecrated temple in Hydrotaz, and personally named Kestrel as her champion.

“You’re a champion of Hydrotaz and an acolyte of the Goddess.  I’ve seen firsthand that we are honored to have you here as our guest.  Are you headed to the palace?” he shrewdly guessed.

Kestrel nodded yes, and Mitchell continued.  “I’ve got a squad of men who are headed that way too.  We’ll be headed out first thing in the morning; you’re welcome to travel with us.

“After you spend a comfortable night here in this inn as the guest of this fine landlord,” Mitchell pressed the issue as he placed his hand firmly on the innkeeper’s shoulder.  “You’ll give him your finest room, won’t you?” the soldier urged the man.

“Of course, sir,” the landlord answered.

“Go put your things up in your room, then come down and have a drink with us,” Mitchell told his long unseen elven friend.   “This squad’s pretty green, so they could stand to hear a few stories from a veteran like you.”

The innkeeper handed Kestrel a room key two minutes later, then ordered a maid to mop up the mess from the dropped tankard of ale.

Kestrel went up to his room and put his things away.  He stretched his wet clothes out to drip dry, while he changed into a relatively drier outfit that he had carried with him.  Once he was changed, he headed downstairs and saw Mitchell’s half dozen men sitting at a table in the corner, motioning to him to come join them.

Once he was seated, he ordered a small loaf of bread and a bowl of stew, and he was introduced around, then ate his food and listened as Mitchell told a colorful version of the events that had brought the two of them together back when they had fought to over-throw the evil dominion that the Viathins of Uniontown had held through their proxy control of Graylee.

“It’s too bad you don’t have a bow and arrow, or we’d let them watch you put on a display of that great elven archery you use so well,” Mitchell told Kestrel.  “He can shoot the tail off a squirrel from a hundred yards away, can’t you?” Mitchell asked, then plowed right ahead with more stories for his entranced audience.

Kestrel slept well that night, dry and warm and delighted at the happenstance of meeting a friendly human acquaintance as part of his very first encounter on his trip to Hydrotaz.  It was a portent of good things to come, he was sure.

The next day the sky was overcast, and the road was a muddy mess, but the rain had stopped, and Mitchell got his men moving.  Kestrel marched in the middle of the line, his hood up to disguise his appearance.  They moved at a pace far slower than Kestrel or any elf would have run at.  Kestrel tried to calculate how much further ahead he could have been at any particular time if he had run on his own, until he gave up the fruitless exercise and just decided to accept the speed his companions were traveling.

They reached Hydrotaz soon after sunset, and Kestrel parted ways with them as they approached the palace.  “I’ll go to the East Forest Embassy,” he told Mitchell.  “I’ll spend the night there, and come to the palace tomorrow.”

“I’ll tell Greysen to expect to hear from you,” the human guardsman said.

“It’s been good to see you again,” Kestrel answered.  “Thank you for soothing things over at the village last night,” he expressed his appreciation, and they parted ways.

Kestrel kept his hood up and avoided others in the street as he wended his way to the embassy.

“I’m here to see the ambassador,” he said in elvish to the guard at the door.  He pulled his hood back to reveal his features.

“We aren’t expecting a messenger this week,” the guard replied, though he nevertheless opened the door to admit Kestrel into the stoutly reinforced structure.

“I’m here as a visitor, not a messenger,” Kestrel replied as he stepped inside.  “Lucretia and Giardell aren’t expecting me.”

“Why would an elf come to a human city to visit?” the guard asked, perplexed.  “I can’t wait to be on my way back home.”

“I’ve got friends here,” Kestrel replied.  “And it feels good to travel,” he added.  As he said it, he realized it was true; he did actually look forward to traveling.  He’d done so many things during his long adventure against the Viathins that he had expected he would never want to travel again, once he reached home.  And he had relished being in Oaktown for the past several weeks, settling in and becoming acquainted with the people of the city.

But he felt good about traveling and visiting Hydrotaz, there was no doubt, even though he knew he would enjoy returning home too.

“Who shall I say is calling?” the guard asked.

“Tell them that Kestrel is here,” he answered.

“Kestrel?  The one they all talk about?  You’re him?  Of course you are; I can see that you’ve got human bloodlines,” the guard was excited.  “I’ll let them know right away.”  He left Kestrel in the small antechamber and disappeared through a doorway.

Only five minutes passed before the door opened again, and Lucretia burst into the room, and engulfed Kestrel in a passionate hug.

“Why are you here?  I’m so glad to see you!” she said.

“It’s so good to see you too,” Kestrel answered with just as much joy.  “Where’s Giardell?” he asked.

“The man has left me,” Lucretia’s voice was tragic, making Kestrel hold her at arm’s length to search her face intently.

“He’s just on a trip to Center Trunk,” she laughed.  “Don’t be so serious, Kestrel.  I was kidding.  The gods know we need to have a sense of humor here among all these humans.”

“Is it bad?” Kestrel asked.

Lucretia started to lead the way through the door, and then upstairs.  “No, it’s not really bad at all.  They’re making an effort, and we’re making an effort.  But there are still some things, like no archery competitions, or no one to eat crickets with, or no acorn bread – you know, the little things of home.”

They entered a parlor upstairs, just the two of them, and sat down.  Kestrel piled his belongings together.  “I suppose I better ask to make sure; may I spend the night here?”

“Of course!” Lucretia answered.  “Let me show you to your room.”  She helped him pick his belongings back up, and took him to a cozy room.

“Would you like something to eat?” she asked as they pulled the door shut when they had him unloaded.

“Absolutely,” Kestrel answered.

“Let’s go to a little local pub where they don’t mind having elves,” she said.  “Or they’ve decided they like our coins at least,” she grinned, as Kestrel picked up his staff.

“We’ll be back Forrester,” she told the guard, and they slipped out the front door moments later.

“We generally try to speak their language when we’re among them,” Lucretia said as they walked down the street.  “They seem to be more comfortable if they understand us.”

She led the way to a quiet side street, and they entered a bright yellow door.

“Well, there’s our lady elf!” a serving girl called cheerfully.  “But that’s not your regular beau,” the girl observed as she hustled over to the table they sat at.

“No, I’ve got a new one,” Lucretia winked at the girl.  “We women have to keep our options open, you know!”

“So I’ve thought,” the girl agreed with a sage tone.

“I’d like
ale and a plate of chops,” Lucretia ordered, “and bring the same for my friend.

“You’ll like these pork chops,” Lucretia told Kestrel.  “But I’m forgetting that I’m with the one elf who’s spent more time among humans than I have, so of course you know them.

“So, what brings you to Hydrotaz?” she asked a moment later.

In reply, Kestrel reached into his shirt and pulled out the pouch of pebbles.  “I desperately wanted to see you, of course,” he said.

“Of course,” Lucretia agreed with a smile.

“And I had this puzzle,” he told her.  He reached across the table and took her hand, flipped it palm up, then poured some of the pebbles from his pouch into her palm.  “These.”

“What are they?” Lucretia asked.  She poked at them with her finger.

“Those are beautiful!” the serving girl exclaimed as she brought two mugs of ale to their table.  “Your new elf gentleman’s one to keep!” she said.

“Do you know what they are?” Kestrel asked.

“They’re gems!  They’re pearls!” the girl told the pair at the t
able, looking at Kestrel keenly.  “They’re what the gentry wear, the ladies, that is, when they dress up to go to the palace.”

The girl departed, and Lucretia looked at Kestrel.  “So, what’s the story about how you showed up in Hydrotaz with an unknown cache of jewels?” she asked.

The serving girl returned with the plates of thin fried pork chops, and Kestrel placed a silver coin on the table.  “That’s for tonight,” he said.

“That’s far too much,” she protested.

“You take it,” he urged.  He scooped the pearls from Lucretia’s hand, and put his pouch away.  “Thanks for letting us know what these are.”

The girl picked up the coin.  “You can come back any night, my elven lord, with or without your lady,” she laughed.

“So?” Lucretia raised an eyebrow and looked at Kestrel as she picked up her mug of ale.

“Well,” Kestrel began, “it all started in Little Wheel,” he began, and over the course of the next hour he told the story of healing and mushroom
s and trading, making Lucretia laugh at the stories of Jacquie and Parisse, and the excitement of the imps.

“So now we’ve got all these,” he paused momentarily as the serving girl brought freshly filled mugs of ale, “what did you call those shiny pebbles?”

“Pearls, my lord,” she answered.

“Thank you,” he told her as she walked away.

“So we’ve got lots of pearls and don’t know what they’re worth.  So I came over here to ask some human friends about them, and to see you, of course.”

“Of course,” Lucretia agreed with a laugh.  “Shall we finish these and head back to the embassy?”

They quickly drained their ales, belched and laughed, then walked back towards the embassy.

“Elves! Wait!” a voice called behind them, and suddenly three men were around them.

“Just hand over those pearls and we’ll leave you alone,” one of the men said.

The three were holding short swords, and they were close.

“I’ll knock his sword loose, then take the one on the right,” Kestrel said in the elvish language.

“Agreed,” Lucretia answered.

Kestrel slashed his staff downward viciously, cracking the center robber on the wrist, and knocking the sword from his hand.  He immediately wheeled his staff sideways so that the bladed end of the weapon cut across the face of the second opponent, and then he flipped the staff around and drove the end into the man’s midriff.