The Guided Journey (Book 6) (2 page)

Prologue

              Kestrel had saved the world.  A young elf, he had been plucked from obscurity, and sent on a mission.  At first, he had ostensibly been an elven spy, watching the intrigues of the humans, but his greater role had been to act as the agent of the gods. 

              Goddesses from the humans and the elves, with cooperation from others, selected and assisted Kestrel in a greater challenge – the battle to defeat the invading race of reptilian Viathins, and their god, Ashcrayss.

             
Kestrel had gone through a grueling series of adventures in his battles, and his travels had taken him across more nations than any other elf of the Eastern Forest had ever traveled.  He was able to make the journeys in part because he was part-human himself, and able to be made to look human, unlike the typical full-blooded elves of the forest, who looked down upon his racial ambivalence.

             
He also succeeded because of his fortunate friendship with the sprites and imps.  Both races had been reclusive to the point of seeming mythical, but a chance occurrence caused Kestrel to perform a favor for the royal family, and a rare and deep friendship developed, placing the particular talents of the imps at the call of Kestrel.

             
Kestrel fell in love over and over again as he visited the many nations of the Inner Seas, but he never found love in return, because of numerous challenges.  His greatest lost love was Moorin, a part human/part elf noble beauty of the Northern Forest, who he rescued from trouble, only to watch her seek a life far away from him.

             
When his battles against the Viathins finally ended, Kestrel made a long journey home to the Eastern Forest, and retired, he hoped, to live a peaceful life as a nobleman, the Warden of the Marches, a title and an estate granted to him by the king of the Eastern Forest elves.

             
But it turned out that a quiet life was not his destiny.

Chapter 1 – Night Time Ritual

Kestrel sat in the wood-paneled study of the large mansion he had been given by the king, in the dim illumination provided by a single candle that burned in a wall scone on the opposite side of the room.  He was sipping from a cup that held water and whiskey.  The local men of the village had given him a bottle of the golden liquid, thinking that Kestrel would use it the way that every other elf used whiskey, as a painkiller.  They hadn’t realized that his human heritage caused whiskey to do more than deaden pain for him; Kestrel had discovered the surprising effect of whiskey the first time he’d tasted the drink.  He’d been at Elmheng, the small provincial city in the northern part of the Eastern Forest; he’d badly hurt his arm, and a doctor had used whiskey as a painkiller.

Kestrel reflected that perhaps he was using the whiskey as a painkiller in a different sense, as he sat alone and sipped from his cup, and reflected on all the adventures he had endured over the course of the past few years.  He’d accepted a bargain with a goddess, and the price of the bargain had been very, very high.  He felt satisfied that he had achieved the extermination of the Viathins from all the lands of the world.  He was hopeful that he had also opened the door to better relations between the elven and human nations that were clustered around the Inner Seas.  And he knew that he had been given titles, accolades and rewards that were far beyond anything he had ever expected to achieve.  In the days since he’d returned, he’d lived with more luxury and comfort than he ever pictured for himself when he was a simple guard watching the border.

But he felt a deep restlessness nonetheless, a dissatisfaction that was welling up from his heart, and he mourned for whatever it was that he had lost – innocence, love, or perhaps even the capacity to be satisfied.  The people of Oaktown had welcomed him warmly, glad to have a ruler back in the mansion.  They knew Kestrel only a little, for he’d spent little time In Oaktown since the day when the King had granted the Western Marches, former domain of Sir Chandel
, to Kestrel.  Chandel had been the warden of the western portion of the Eastern Forest kingdom; he’d been responsible for safety and security for elves in the region, a responsibility he had sadistically interpreted to mean, among other things, hunting and harming the imps who lived in the Swampy Morass to the south.

Kestrel believed that the responsibility of his role was based more on him providing service to the people, instead of him expecting to receive service – and taxes and tribute of all sorts – from the people of the region.  Kestrel had learned that the people of Oaktown had been beaten down by Chandel’s avaricious ways, and were still astonished that Kestrel did not seek to take as much from them as the former lord had.  Thus, the gifts that were being given to him, such as the bottle of whiskey, presented to him when he went to visit the patients of the local doctor
, were tokens of appreciation.

As he sat in the study, he knew that he needed to send a message to the king at Center Trunk, to let the sovereign know that Kestrel was back, that the Viathins had been exterminated, and to urge that efforts be made to reach out to the other kingdoms of the Inner Seas, both elven and human.  Kestrel had come to conclude that the Eastern Forest was too isolated, t
oo insular, for its own good.  In his travels, he’d found no other strong nation that had managed to be successful without greater interactions with its neighbors than the elves of the Eastern Forest practiced. It was a message he knew Center Trunk would ignore.

He promised himself once again that he would sit down and write the message to the palace, just as he had so promised himself for several days.  He realized that the more proper expectation would be that he would journey to Center Trunk and deliver his report in person.  The king would rightfully expect his vassal to deliver such an astonishing report as Kestrel had to offer.   But Kestrel had no wish to go to Center Trunk in person.  Chief among his objections, he did not want to face Princess Elwean, who had been very direct in her last conversation with Kestrel, when she had told him that she had an obligation to marry and to produce an heir to the throne, and had let Kestrel know that his rise to prominence had made him a suitable candidate for such a role.  Kestrel felt no desire to play such a role.

Nor was Kestrel ready to face a meeting with Alicia, who he presumed was living in Center Trunk as well.  He and the widowed doctor had a deep and intimate relationship, but one that carried a great deal of baggage, too much for Kestrel to feel comfortable in facing yet.  She had been an unshakeable friend and ally for Kestrel, but she had also been the unfaithful wife of his mentor, Colonel Silvan, the head of the elves’ spying and espionage system, and he still resented the pain and turmoil that her infidelity had caused.

What’s more, Kestrel knew that whenever he did finally send his report off to Center Trunk for delivery, it would be sure to be answered with a demand that he travel to the capital to report in person.  And so he waivered in his determination to send the report, and continued to delay.

He took the last sip of the whiskey and water, then listened to footsteps in the hallway.

“You should be getting your rest, young master,” Whyte, his steward told him as he peered in through the door that was ajar.

“And so should you, Whyte,” Kestrel answered in just as kindly a tone.  He stood up and walked over to the candle, then snuffed it out.

“I’m ready,” he said.  His eyes and the steward’s adjusted rapidly to the darkness, taking advantage of the wonderful vision that the elven race possessed.   He walked to the doorway, and shook hands with the servant, then walked to the residential wing of the manor, where he slept alone, while Whyte finished making his final inspection of the mansion before turning in for the night.

Kestrel thought about what lay ahead.  He’d sleep through the nightmares that he was sure to have – he had nightmares every night, nightmares with Viathins and terrifying situations in which he or some friend always faced an unescapable situation.  Or he’d face some desperate need to call upon the power of the gods, the power that Kere had told him was lying untouched within him, but he would be unable to summon the power to provide his relief as the unknown terror drew closer.  And then he would wake up when the sun rose, and he’d face a tomorrow beyond the terrible dream, a relief from the torture that sleep had become.  Even better, he had something to look forward to when the sun rose.  It was a day that promised to be one of the best days he’d known in months.  Tomorrow would be the first day of spring.  The imps and sprites would be able to travel once again, and he intended to call them to come see him.

Chapter 2 – Return of the Imps

Kestrel awoke after the sun was above the horizon.  He was sweating with terror, for the nightmare he had awoken from had been more gruesome than usual.  He’d been frozen in place, unable to move, and watched as a horrific version of a Viathin had been eating a prisoner alive.  He knew that the prisoner in the dream was a very good friend, though he did not know who it was.  Kestrel had been unable to exercise his powers, unable to flip Lucretia at the monster, unable to help in any way.  The powerlessness had been horrifying.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to shake away the feeling of helplessness, then suddenly remembered that spring was beginning, the sprites and imps would be able to travel once again, and he had a reason to feel more cheerful.  He smelled the aroma of fresh-baked rolls, and realized there was a covered tray of breakfast goods sitting on a table near the door to his room.  He ambled over to the tray and grabbed a roll, one baked using the coarse acorn flour that all elves enjoyed, still warm and fresh as he bit into it.

He went to clean himself up once the roll was gone from his hand, then went downstairs and opened the windows of his study, including the glass doors that opened onto a patio.  He wanted to give the imps plenty of space to fly in when they came to see him.

Satisfied that space was available, Kestrel took the additional precaution of stepping out onto the patio.  He walked to the center of the patio, standing on the smooth slate floor, then grinned as he looked up into the sky and whispered.

“Dewberry, Dewberry, Dewberry!” he said softly.  He didn’t know how well the imps and sprites actually heard him when he called; he imagined that a whispered request would be like a ghostly, soft voice heard just beyond the range of certainty, making his sprite friend doubt what she heard, then decide to follow the uncertain sound.

His mind was just finishing its speculation on the appearance of a perplexed sprite, when the sky was filled with a half dozen blue bodies all around him, a circle that blotted out the blue sky as they arrived, circled, then plummeted upon him, driving him to the ground under the weight of their grasping hugs.

“I told you I heard him!  Is this not worth leaving the celebration?” Dewberry crowed to the others.

She was the one who had claimed, or wrestled her way into, the prime position, atop his chest, her face directly in front of his.

“You are alive!  Kestrel-friend, we are so excited!  You are alive!” she repeated twice in her excitement, before she pressed her cheek against his and hummed with happiness.

He looked over Dewberry’s shoulder, and saw that Stillwater, Killcen, Odare,
and two others unknown to him, were also part of the pile that weighed him down.

“You all made it home,” he said, glad that the warriors who had accompanied him deep into Uniontown had completed the very long trip all the way across the length of the Inner Seas to return to the Swampy Morass.  They had carried the body of Canyon, the fourth imp who had been
in Kestrel’s bodyguard unit – physically carried it by flying across the countless miles – back to his home in the Swampy Morass to bury him with his ancestors.  When Kestrel had watched them fly away he had worried about their chances of successfully reaching their goal.

“When we flew away from you, we feared that you would not prevail,” Odare spoke the very thought he had, in reverse.  “Then, just as we were halfway h
ome, we all felt our hearts lift with a strange happiness.

“I told them it meant that you had won!” Killcen crowed.

“We all thought the same thing,” Odare insisted.

“You have a great story to tell, I am sure,” Stillwater said.

“It is mostly a tale of the many hearts of human and elven women who have suffered unrequited love with you, while your own heart has pined for me, I am confident,” Dewberry said.

“He’s been enchanted, enthralled, with me since the first time he saw me at the healing spring,” she told the others.  They began to climb off of him, floating a few inches upward, and making room for him to raise himself up and dust himself off.

“In fact, he tried to take me to his bed on that very first meeting,” she spoke confidentially to Odare.  “I imagine he tried similar tricks with you?”

“I saw the temptation in his eyes, even when they were black eyes,” Odare answered, her fingers stroking her chin.  “But he had other women, larger women with him
, usually.  He had both a human and an elf maiden.  The human was very pregnant, though I do not believe the child was his.”

“Her child was born.  He was born the very night you carried Canyon away.  She named her son Canyon to honor him,” Kestrel told them.

“Aaah,” the small companions all said in unison, touched by the gesture.

“And there was another female with us,” Kestrel told them, making his three companions stare at him in confusion.

“There was not, unless you kept a secret, invisible woman with you.  Did you hide someone from us?” Odare asked in mock indignation.

“She actually hid herself.  Hiram was a woman, dressed as a man,” Kestrel revealed.

“Your reputation preceded you?” Dewberry asked tartly.

“Tell us about your adventure.  Tell everything that happened,” Stillwater spoke up, and was supported by a chorus of agreement.

“Though there’s not a lot to tell,” Kestrel had decided he didn’t want to relive all the details of the entire adventure, “I thought that we might travel someplace to go over the story.”  He longed for a journey to a spot that was filled with memories, someplace he hadn’t visited in a long time, and felt a spiritual need to visit.

There was silence on the part of the imps.  Kestrel sensed that something had made them uneasy.

“My husband,” Dewberry said.

“The king,” Odare needlessly clarified.

“Was unhappy one day not long after our friends had brought Canyon home,” Dewberry continued.

“I don’t think he liked his supper,” Killcen explained.

“And so, in a fit of foolish anger, he forbade any of us to carry humans or elves or gnomes, until such time as he chose to lift his commandment,” Dewberry finished.

“It’s stupid,” Stillwater affirmed.

“Stupid, but it is his rule,” Dewberry suffered the pain of supporting her husband.

“I understand,” Kestrel said patiently.  “I was going to suggest that we go to the healing spring, but I know that none of you would want to disobey your king.”

The faces in the air all turned to look at one another.

“I’ll go,” Stillwater volunteered immediately.

“Me too,” Odare added.

“I will tell the king where he can find us if he wishes to forgive us for breaking the rule,” Dewberry said.  “I’m sure he’ll forgive us.  I expect he’ll come join us as soon as he finishes his ceremonies.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked Kestrel, as the imps began to close in upon him.  They were as eager as he was to revisit the waters where they experienced such pleasant times.

“No, not yet,” Kestrel told them.  “Let me go get some water skins so I can bring the water back for my people to enjoy.”

“You are being a tease, Kestrel- tormentor!  First you promise, then you refuse to carry out!” Dewberry scolded him.

“Come with me and we’ll go get the skins,” Kestrel told them.  He entered his room, passed through it, then walked down the hall to the kitchens, and startled the staff when he brought his entourage of
flying blue friends with him.  One assistant baker fled the room, while the others stood slack-jawed, staring in amazement.

“I need a great many skins to fill with water, Bernie,” he told the head cook casually, setting off a scramble by the kitchen staff to gather together empty skins for their lord.

“We’re ready to go now,” Kestrel said once he held a dozen skins in his hand a minute later.

“Jonson will meet us at the spring,” Dewberry reported as the imps gathered around Kestrel.  “I hope he’ll be gracious when he sees you, his former rival for my affections.”

Kestrel waved to the human observers, and then he disappeared with his blue huddle, leaving a babble of startled exclamations in the kitchen.

He felt the numb isolation of the traveling mode the imps and sprites used to make their miraculous journeys, and he realized
that on this rare occasion he enjoyed the feeling.  It was the first time to journey in such a manner since prior to the climax of his long campaign against the Viathins, and the discomfort of traveling outside of the world was oddly comforting, a reminder of when he thought the world was simpler and easier to understand.

And then the travels ended within moments, and Kestrel found himself standing on the green grass beside the spring waters.  The bushes around the opening were blooming with fragrant flowers, and the setting was delightfully relaxing.  The imps and Dewberry immediately shed their clothes, and stood expectantly on the edge of the shallow sandy shelf that Kestrel had come to use as the expected spot for his resting companions.

              “Odare, now ladies first,” Kestrel said as he walked over and stepped into the water, then lifted the first imp down into the clean, warm spring.  Her feet touched the water and she flashed a momentary smile, then closed her eyes and fell into a sleeping reverie of delightful dreams in the unfathomable fashion that all sprites and imps did upon contact with the waters of the spring.  He then politely immersed the unknown other female imp.

“And now Stillwater,” Kestrel said.

“Did you not say ladies first, Kestrel-unmannered?” Dewberry squawked as she found herself jostled out of her position in the front of the line.

“I knew that as the gracious sovereign of these good imps, you would want them to go before you, oh queen of the imps,” Kestrel spoke in an extravagant fashion, while he laid Stillwater in the water.

He grabbed hold of Killcen.  “I think you presume too much of me, Kestrel-fool,” Dewberry replied, as Kestrel laid Killcen down, and the other unknown companion as well.

“And, I just wanted a moment alone with you to tell you how glad I am to see you, my friend,” Kestrel told Dewberry, as he picked her up last, and momentarily dangled her over the water.  “My heart is lightened by being in your presence once again.”

“I love you too, Kestrel-dearly beloved,” Dewberry spoke in a tender voice, and she reached one small hand out to caress his cheek.

“What am I witness to here?  What frolicsome game is my naked wife engaged in with this giant paramour?” Jonson asked as he arrived at the spring just then.

“You have arrived too quickly, kingly husband,” Dewberry laughed.  “Come join us,” she urged. 

Jonson disrobed as Kestrel lowered Dewberry into the spring water.

“It is good to see you, and to know that you were victorious and are well,” Jonson courteously said.

“I only was able to succeed because you sent four such valiant warriors to assist me.   I am very sorry for the death of Canyon,” Kestrel answered.

“His companions said that he died honorably, and that you demonstrated courage and power greater than they had ever seen before,” Jonson replied, as Kestrel lifted him.  “I know that we are in your debt for the great victory you achieved.”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I awaken you all from your dreams,” Kestrel told him, then laid the king of the imps down into the water of the enchanted spring.  He stepped over to the shore, and shed his own clothes, then took several minutes to fill his collection of water bags, and pile them on the shore.

Kestrel swam across the pool of spring water in the morning sunlight, and found a cranny among the rocks in the warm waters, where he was able to sit back and relax.  He could feel the warm water caressing his body, and he could see the imps sleeping in the water.   He could remember and imagine so many things that had happened at the spring, the times he had come there with the imps and sprites, the times he had come there with Alicia.  He thought about the princess of the Northern Elves, Aurelia, who had been healed of a devastating disease after spending a night in the spring water.

His nightmares and concerns melted away.  He listened to the water flow, and the birds sing, and he felt contentment.  The Viathins were dead.  That was the thing he had to remember.  All his adventures, good and bad, had come about because of the Viathins.  He had seen the men of Hydrotaz try to set the edge of the forest ablaze because the influence of the Viathins had sent them into action.  The goddess Kai had answered his prayer and caused the mighty, fire-fighting rains because she sensed she was going to use him to fight the Viathins.  The goddess Kere had taken an interest in him and sent him to the very healing spring he occupied because she too expected to see him battle the Viathins.

And now the Viathins were dead and gone.  And Kestrel had managed to visit most of the nations of the Inner Seas in the process of fighting them.  And he had made friends with folks in all those lands, and perhaps helped to reduce some of the potential for distrust and misunderstanding among the peoples of the nations.

He relaxed in the warm water, and imagined that Wren was there with him.  His pugnacious cousin -  who he had not known until his adventures were well underway  - would be sympathetic to his sense of malaise, he thought.  She had fought with him and distrusted him in the beginning of their battles together, and he had felt little respect for her when they first met.  But the two of them had come to rely on one another and understand one another as their adventures progressed.  If Wren were with him he’d be able to speak to her and grope towards some release of the dissatisfaction that troubled him.