An Unexpected Deity (Book 7) (29 page)

“I want to go home,” Kestrel replied slowly.  “I want to see a yellow sun and see Putienne, and my other friends too,” he added.  “I want to see my own home again; and I don’t need to be a god to be happy.”

“I understand,” Tullamore answered in words that were spoken just as slowly and thoughtfully.  “You are already a hero here for helping to lead this mighty expedition that has ended the Viathin occupation in our land.

“Without your help, we will die out slowly, but we will be free when we pass into history.  I thank you for giving my people their freedom back,” Tullamore said in a voice filled with dignity and sadness.  The god turned, and strolled away from Kestrel, heading back down the sloping path that Kestrel had climbed to reach the top of the hill.

Kestrel felt his eyes begin to tear up.  He had admired the bravery of the Skyes who had been partners in the quest to battle the Viathins, and he wanted them to enjoy and flourish during their regained freedom.  He wanted to help them, but he also wanted to return home.  He had been gone from Oaktown for months, and he missed the place that was growing to be home.  Even more, he missed Putienne; the enchantment-driven bond of friendship he shared with the yeti-turned-girl continued to reside in his soul, making him restless, with a longing to be close to the girl once again. 

He would even consider going to Uniontown eventually to help Lark’s father, as the girl had asked him to.  If Stuart and the forces of Duke Listay needed help in their civil war, Kestrel felt a debt of kinship to assist them too, once he saw his own home.

The last traces of the blue sun dropped away from the night time sky, and Kestrel began to walk down the trail, back to camp, still glowing without even realizing it.  He heard voices as he turned around a corner of the trail, and he came upon Lark and Wren, both sitting by the pothole pool of water that was fed by the waterskin he had propped above it.  The pool was already full, and water was trickling out, running down the bed of the stream that had existed when the land had enjoyed a wetter climate.

The two girls were undressed, sitting on the edge of the pool with their feet dangling in the water.  At Kestrel’s approach they had raised their shirts in front of themselves.

“Kestrel!” Wren called cheerfully.  “This is very nice, thank you.”

“But it’s also cold,” Lark added.  “Can you be a kind and gentle god, and warm this for us?”

Kestrel grinned at his two companions, then looked at the stony surroundings.  He focused his attention on the rocks across from the girls, and made the stones start to glow red.  The water closest to the stones began to steam.  Pleased with his success, Kestrel closed his eyes and focused on stirring the water, mixing it thoroughly so that his friends would be able to indulge in a bath with uniform temperatures throughout.

“Ah!  That feels wonderful,” Wren murmured as the newly warmed water began to flow around her feet.

Kestrel stood and smiled at the girls, pleased that he had been able to provide the small luxury of a warm bath for them.  The burbling sound of the water skin’s flow falling into the pool continued to provide a relaxing background sound, and the situation seemed as relaxing as possible.

“Well?” Wren asked, one elven eyebrow arched.

Kestrel looked at her inquisitively.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch us and wait for us to slip naked into the pool, or are you going to be a gentleman god and turn your back?” she asked.

Kestrel blushed, and turned around.  He heard the water ripple as the girls slid into the small pool.

“Thank you, my lord,” Lark said with a tone that conveyed formality, and with that, the night seemed different to him.

“I’ll leave you two to enjoy yourselves,” Kestrel said, and he walked on down the path.  The others were at the site where they had eaten, and he sat, diminished his glow, and spoke softly with his companions until the two bathers returned sometime later.

“The water was starting to get cold,” Wren explained why they had left the pool.

“And our fingers were all wrinkled,” Lark added with a laugh.  “That felt so wonderful, my lord,” she said to Kestrel, again speaking in a formal tone.

They went to sleep that night, exhausted after the long days of journey and battle, no watch set to guard them, for there were no predators to fear any longer.

As he lay drowsing in the darkness, curled up in his cloak, Kestrel heard a faint voice speaking to him. 
My lord Kestrel, please keep my father and brother safe, and protect them.  We thank you for your kindness.  Guard us all and bring us safe travels, amen
.

She was praying to him, and he was hearing it!  He sat up abruptly and looked around.

“No!” he spoke aloud.

The heads of the others who were laying down rose in alarm.

“What is it my lord?  Is there a problem?” Stuart asked.

“Kestrel, what troubles you?” Morph asked from his spot.

“It’s Lark.  She’s praying to me,” Kestrel said.  “I’m not that kind of god; she shouldn’t pray to me!”

“You heard my prayer?” Lark asked as she sat up.  “I only prayed in my own heart!  You are truly a god to hear such a prayer, Kestrel.  Won’t you please help us, help my father?  Come back with us and use your powers for him?”  She rose to her feet and walked over to him, then knelt next to him as she spoke.

Kestrel saw the plea that was writ large across her face, the desperation she felt to help her father.  A part of him wanted to help her, but a part also wanted to help Tullamore, and most of all, the greatest part wanted to go home and restart his own life.  There were so many requests for his time and efforts, and so little time for himself.

He started to reply, to tell her no, when he saw Tullamore not far behind her, the girl and the god, the two comrades who had asked him to help.  They both had worthy causes, and lives that seemed to depend on his engagement.  He realized that despite all he had given already – from taking Hampus on his journey, to exterminating the Viathins around the Inner Seas, to setting Krusima and Morph free – he still could not find it in his heart to say ‘no’ to his companions.

“I will not go back to the Inner Seas with you,” Kestrel told Lark.  Her hand shot out and smacked the side of his face viciously, rocking his head back.

“I hate you!” she screamed.

“I will stay here to help Tullamore,” Kestrel said evenly, wanting to rub his cheek, but refusing to give Lark the satisfaction of seeing his pain.  “And when that is done, I will come to Uniontown to help your father.”

Lark looked at him with a wide-eyed stare.  “Do you mean it?  Really?” she asked.   She clutched her hands together in front of her, in a gesture of pleading.

“If you promise not to pray to me anymore,” Kestrel replied.

“I won’t!” she answered fervently.

“And if you promise not to slap me anymore,” Kestrel added.

“Oh Kestrel, I’m so sorry,” she tentatively reached a hand out towards his cheek, then stopped before she touched him.

“This is all delightful, I’m sure,” Krusima said.  “A new god learning how to handle his worshippers.  It’s a refreshing approach to take, to forbid them to worship you.”

“She’s not a worshipper; she a girl, just a girl,” Kestrel said in exasperation.  He looked from Krusima to Lark, and saw the hurt in her eyes from being described as ‘just a girl’.  She rose from his side, and hurried back to her sleeping spot.

After moments of silence that were free of drama, the others in the camp laid their heads back down and tried to return to sleep.

I’m sorry
, Kestrel carefully directed his thoughts towards Lark, hoping to diminish the girl’s hurt feelings.  It was an experiment on his part to see if he could make his thoughts be heard by another
.  I didn’t mean for that to sound the way it came out.  You’re more than ‘just a girl’
, he said. 
You’re brave and loyal and reliable.

Are you talking to a puppy or a girl?
He heard the tart retort, but was shocked that it came from Wren’s voice. 
Those are hardly the words a man should use to woo a girl – try words like loving and kind and pretty, especially pretty,
his cousin told him, the tones of a wicked grin embedded in her thoughts.

I’m sorry, my mistake
, he replied silently, embarrassed.  Wren would remember his mistake, and he would hear about it again in the future, he was sure.

Kestrel waited several seconds while he tried to figure out his mistake in projecting his thoughts.  He focused again on Lark, and the memory he had of the feel of her prayer, then he cautiously redirected a comment.

Lark, can you hear me?
He asked

Go away
, the girl’s voice sounded petulantly.

That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it,
he told her accusingly. 
I’ve seen you go through all the challenges of this journey, and I know you’re more than just any girl.  You’re brave and faithful,
he told her, and he thought of Wren’s sarcastic comments,
and you’re pretty as well
, he added.  He could say it with a straight face; she was a pretty girl, he admitted, and if anything, the rigors of their long trip seemed to have given her face more character and strength as some of the youthful fullness was replaced with sharper features.  He held his breath, waiting to hear any response she might make, any reaction to his awkward and spontaneous effort to compliment her appropriately.

There was no answer from Lark, and after several long seconds, Kestrel gave up and finally fell asleep, wondering if he had mishandled the exchange.

The next day the group traveled across the countryside to reach the gate that would provide access to the lands of the Inner Seas.

“You really plan for us to stay here to help the god of the Skyes?” Wren asked Kestrel as they trudged down a hill in a large valley where two dry river beds came together.

“No, just me.  I want you and everyone else to go back home.  I’ll need for you to make sure Woven and Stillwater can get back to their own homes; the humans can hopefully take care of themselves without a great deal of help,” Kestrel told the girl.  “There will be no more fighting here, so you wouldn’t have any fun staying behind any longer,” he told her with a grin.

“I could give you a fight, god or no god,” she growled in mock anger.  “But it would be nice to see Creata again.  I’m sure he misses me!”

“We’ll come back to this place,” Tullamore told Kestrel as they crossed the bottom of the wide valley an hour later, “after your friends are all safely on their way.  Thank you for agreeing to stay here longer; you’ll make it possible for the race of my followers to live on into the future.”  The god’s voice carried a profound sense of gratitude.

A short time later, Gates suddenly slapped the middle of his back.

“Kinst!” Tullamore said instantly, causing the Skyes to begin clacking to one another rapidly.

“The Kinst are attacking!  Cover or die!” they said as they all stopped walking and pulled their legs in tightly against their bodies, reducing the amount of vulnerable tissue they exposed.

“No,” Tullamore said calmly, “this is not going to happen.  We will remove this pestilence from the land once again.”  The god reached out one of its legs towards Gates, as the man pulled his bloody hand away from the wound in his back.

As soon as Tullamore touched Gates, his body glowed with a yellow color.  He looked at the god in surprise, then screamed loudly once.  There was a fearful fleshy, retching-like noise, and a mass of white, twisting and turning, slimy material floated out of Gates’s back.  The mass was contained within the same yellow glow that Gates had been surrounded by, and Tullamore’s glow left the man, surrounding only the infection as the god moved it through the air, the others in the party hastily moving away from it in terror, while Gates knelt in pain.

“This nest shall be a threat no more,” the god calmly said, and then he sent the glowing mass rocketing upwards into the sky, so high that it disappeared from the sight of even Kestrel’s vision.  There was a sudden bright flare of light, and a few seconds later a distant clap of thunder reached them.

“Please tend to you man,” Tullamore addressed Krusima.  “My apologies for the small harm I caused, but time was of the essence, and there was no time to explain.”

“Stillwater,” Kestrel called, “bring the water skin to treat Gates,” he conveyed.

“The man is a human.  He is mine to tend to,” Krusima immediately challenged Kestrel.  “Why do you think you’re the one to treat him?”  Stillwater, who had started to respond, froze in place, looking inquiringly at Kestrel

“I think he won’t care who treats him, he just needs to be treated,” Kestrel answered.  He was torn between wondering whether he had truly breached some godly protocol or whether Krusima’s fragile ego had simply over-reacted.

“Heal him quickly, to reduce his pain,” Kestrel urged.  “If you don’t, I will,” he said bluntly, deciding to risk a confrontation.  He shook his head slightly at Stillwater, preventing the imp from getting too close to Gates too quickly

“I shall heal him as I choose.  Even in this weakened state, I can do this much for a loyal follower,” Krusima spoke in an abrupt manner, but he nonetheless strolled over to Gates and laid a hand on the man, held it there for a second, then released him.