The Guided Journey (Book 6) (5 page)

“The king will be astonished by our news,” she told Kestrel.   “We are ready to return home now, and we will tell him that you are fostering friendship with the people of this village.”

Kestrel reached out and gently pulled the little imp into his range, then made the crowd whoop and holler as he gave her a quick kiss.

She looked at him archly.  “I shall not tell the queen about this, for she will think that I am your favorite imp to pine for.  I know that it’s true, mind you, but I do not wish for her to know!”

The imps all grinned, then disappeared from the village, causing an increase in the amplitude of the chatter among the elves in the open space. 

Kestrel and the others from Oaktown were shown to rooms in various houses that night; Kestrel spent the night with Jereed and his mother.  The next morning, after a round of visits convinced Kestrel that Cedar Gully was back on its feet, he and his companions gathered in the undefined center of the village, as many of the residents thanked them and threw flowers upon them.

In high spirits, Kestrel led his group back to Oaktown, where they arrived in the mid-afternoon.  Kestrel let each of the three nurses keep a water skin that contained some remainder of the water from the healing spring, and he thanked everyone who had provided assistance, then he returned to his manor.

Chapter 4 The Twins Visit the Spring

Whyte, the steward of the manor greeted Kestrel soon after he returned to his home.

“Whyte, how many villages are under the domain of this manor?” Kestrel asked the man as they entered his office.

“Perhaps two dozen sir; perhaps a little more,” the steward estimated thoughtfully as Kestrel took his seat at his desk.

“Can you draw up a map of all of them?” Kestrel asked.

Whyte looked at him in surprise.  “I suppose I can talk to the traders and find out where they go.  No one’s ever asked for anything like that.”

“I’d like to visit every village I’m responsible for,” Kestrel explained.  “If I’m lord of the manor for this portion of the Eastern Forest, I want the people of our region to know who I am, and know that I’ll look out for them.”  He went on to explain the introduction of the imps to the elves of the village of Cedar Gully, and his hopes that he could improve the relations between the two communities.

“I suppose it will be good,” his steward said doubtfully.  “I’ll work on putting together your map for you, sir,” Whyte said as he excused himself from the office, and left Kestrel to sit and contemplate what he should expect to do as the lord of the manor and Warden of the Marches.

The next day Kestrel called Dewberry in the middle of the morning, and spent the day until dinner time at the healing spring, soaking imps and sprites in the waters until there were no suitable spots available for the blue races to slumber in the water, while Kestrel filled several water skins that he took back to his manor house with him.

He repeated his efforts to repay his debt to the imps and sprites two more times in the next week, until Whyte came to his office one day with a rolled up parchment, which he spread out on the desk top as they both looked over it.

“There are nearly three score villages that are considered attached to Oaktown Manor!” the steward told his lord in astonishment.  “No one had any idea there were so many.”

“I imagine that means no lord of the manor has ever gone to visit them all?” Kestrel asked.

“Sir Chandel certainly never did any such thing; he only visited those villages that he thought owed him greater remittances.  His predecessor Lord Chebert ruled for a very long time in the manor, and he never went very far from the manor – he was a homebody, unlike you, my lord,” Whyte said with a smile.

“I’d like to take Remy, and Parisse and Jacquie to go with me,” he referred to two of the nurses who had visited Cedar Gully.  “Would you see if they’ll be available next week for a trip of about five days?” he asked.

“N
urses, sir?” Whyte asked.

“I’d like to check on the health of the elves we visit,” Kestrel replied.  “That plague at Cedar Gully killed several of our elves.  I think we should check to make sure there aren’t any other problems like that in the area the manor is responsible for.”

“Which days will you be gone?” Whyte asked.  “Next week is the due date for sending your remittance to the king.”

“Can you send the remittance without me going to Center Trunk?” Kestrel asked hopefully.

“We could,” Whyte said doubtfully.  “Presenting the remittances is traditionally an opportunity for the lord of the manor to appear at court and call the king’s attention to his faithful service.”

Calling the king – and princess’s – attention to himself was not something Kestrel wished to do.  “Who would be a good proxy to send in my place?  Would you like to present the remittance to the king, Whyte?” he asked.

“Heavens no!” the steward said fervently.  “We can just send the money with guards and a note, I presume, if you wish, my lord.”

“Let’s do so,” Kestrel agreed.

The next day he called upon his imp friends.  “Stillwater,” he summoned.

“I’d like to go to get a new staff before I take a journey next week.  Could you take me up to a blacksmith’s forge outside of Green Water?  No elf could make a proper staff the way the humans make them, and the blacksmith at Green Water’s made more than one
to my liking,” he explained.

“And would there be a stop along the way?” Stillwater asked.

Kestrel considered.  “There could be.  It could work out very conveniently if we could go to the healing spring for instance, while waiting for the staff to be constructed.”

“Let me summon some helpers,” Stillwater asked.

“And let me go collect some water skins,” Kestrel proposed.

Minutes later, Kestrel and a collection of water skins met Stillwater and two other imps on the patio outside his office.

“This is Acanthus and this is Mulberry,” Stillwater introduced two imps who Kestrel had never met before.

“Are Odare and Killcen in good health?” Kestrel asked after making introductions.

“They have taken time off to be with one another,” Stillwater answered, his cheeks darkening.

“They’re a couple?” Kestrel asked in surprise.  “I never had a clue!”

“Neither did Killcen!” Acanthus spoke up with a jolly laugh.  “I think he was as surprised as anyone.”

“Odare may have decided that our queen’s forthrightness was not such a bad personality trait,” Mulberry responded.  “She seems to have caught Killcen unprepared.”

The three imps grinned at one another.

“We look forward to working with the pre-eminent friend of imps and sprites,” Acanthus said, taking a midair bow, as Mulberry curtsied.

“I hope your time with me will be incomparably boring compared to what your predecessors have experienced, eh Stillwater?” Kestrel asked.

“I hope they’ll not have to go through such events,” the
lead imp agreed, “but I would never give up the experience of helping you be the most heroic person I’ve ever met!”

The imps gathered around Kestrel.  “Take me back to the blacksmith,” Kestrel urged, and then he was engulfed in the gray chill of the dimension that he could not comprehend, except to know that the imps and sprites used it to travel in a way no mortal could.

I wonder if this is how the gods and goddesses get from place to place?
He just managed to form the question in his mind when the gray numbness ended, and he found himself in the familiar spot behind the stables of the blacksmith.

He dropped his pile of water skins.  “Thank you.  Please wait and I’ll be back in a few minutes, I hope,” he told the three imps, then he walked around the corner and went back to the doorway of the forge where the smith worked at his tools.

“An elf?” the smith observed out loud after he finished hammering a piece and looked up from his anvil.  “I don’t see elves here.  You look familiar though.  Do you speak the language?” he asked.

Kestrel’s mind whirled, as he realized that he had fully adapted to the elvish language of the Eastern Forest once again, even feeling at home with the slight drawl that was characteristic to the elves of the Oaktown region.

He stood silently as he translated the smith’s words, then replied after his pause.  “I do speak the language, and I’ve been here before, so I might look familiar, though my ears weren’t quite what they are now.

“You sold me a staff, a wonderful piece of equipment, with hooks on one end and blades on the other.  I wonder if you could prepare another for me?” Kestrel asked.

“Elves don’t use staffs,” the smith dismissed the request.

“I do,” Kestrel said.  “It’s a lot better in close fighting than a bow and arrows.”

“Let me see,” the smith motioned over to a cluster of raw staffs that leaned against the wall in a corner of the room.

Kestrel took one of the staffs, then went through his dimly-remembered training motions, feeling rusty – and silly – but demonstrating that he could handle a staff.  The staff he held was an uncapped piece of wood, a light color, possibly oak, judging by the yellow tint of the timber.  It felt good.

“Is this oak?  Is this staff for sale?” he asked as he stopped swinging the staff and walked over to the smith.

“You’ll not get in trouble for serving me; no one from the city will see me come or go,” Kestrel assured the smith after the man stood without answering.

“I did sell you a staff before!  You brought a woman – she was part elf too, wasn’t she?” the smith asked, his memory finally recollecting Kestrel’s second visit to the forge.

“Alright, I’ll put the staff together for you.  I’ve got another job to finish here first,” he indicated the blade he had been working on.  Can you come back around nightfall?”

“I’ll be back,” Kestrel agreed.  “Here’s a down payment,” he placed two silvers in the man’s hand as a sign of good faith, then nodded and left the building.

He was vulnerable, he realized.  He didn’t have Lucretia, his enchanted knife; he didn’t have a shield plastered across his chest that resisted attack, and he didn’t have the great power of the gods within him, despite the strange tale Kere had told him weeks earlier.  He was simply an elf on the edge of a hostile human city, an elf whose only comfort came from having three imps waiting for him.

The thought caused him to hurry his step, and he returned to Stillwater, Mulberry, and Acanthus, then traveled with them to the healing spring.  He placed the imps in the water, then undressed, filled his skins with the enchanted fluid, and went to relax among the stones where the water was warm and he could drowsily keep an eye on the imps.

Kestrel fell asleep and awoke with a start twice during the afternoon, noting the movement of the sun as the daylight grew brighter, then dimmer, and the shadows of the surrounding trees swung from one side of the pool of spring water to the other.

At last he roused himself from his relaxation and waded back to the imps.  He pulled them out of the water and laid them on the grass, then dressed himself before he awoke them from the unmatchable dreams that the water inspired within the souls of the small blue beings.

“Let us sleep more!” Mulberry pleaded.  “Those were such dreams – the dancing among the stars, the lights that followed me!”

“Now I know why the members of the court want to come here so desperately,” Acanthus agreed.  “This is truly spectacular. 

“You’ll count us as permanent members of Lord Kestrel-hero’s guard, won’t you?” he asked Stillwater.

“If the assignment were mine to make, of course,” Stillwater said.  “I’m not sure there’s really still a squad specifically and permanently assigned to our friend.  But I haven’t been reassigned to do anything else yet, so I am treating our friend as my assignment still, and you are here on temporary assignment.  I’m afraid to ask for you to be assigned, until I know what Killcen and Odare decide about their future, and I’m afraid that if I call attention to myself I might be assigned elsewhere!” he gave a rambling answer.

“Let’s return to the smithy and pick up my staff,” Kestrel broke into the conversation.

“As you wish, Kestrel work-duty maker,” Stillwater replied.

They traveled through the unknown once again, and then Kestrel stepped around corner of the smithy and returned to make the rest of the payment for his new staff.  “Thank you, again,” Kestrel told the smith as he grabbed his staff with both hands, enjoying the weight and feel of the wood.

“Whatever happened to that elf lady you were with last time?  She was attractive,” the smith commented.

“She’s engaged to a nobleman in Graylee,” Kestrel replied.  “She’s my cousin, actually.”

“A human from Graylee engaged to an elf?  I never would have thought I’d live to hear that!” the smith said.

“Better days are upon u
s,” Kestrel said reassuringly.  He saluted the smith, then returned to the imps, who spirited him and his cargo of water skins back to the patio of the manor in Oaktown.

“Thank you all,” Kestrel expressed his appreciation to his imp friends.  “I do not plan any other trips that will trouble you for a few days.”

“Trouble us all that you need to go to the healing spring,” Mulberry urged him.

The imps left, and Kestrel carried his new staff and water skins into his office, then closed the patio doors and went out in search of food and Whyte.  He found both in the kitchen.

“My lord!” the head cook exclaimed.  “Gone all day and misses dinner, but manages to find the kitchen eventually.”  The man smiled as he dished out a bowl of stew in anticipation of Kestrel’s appetite.

“What news for the day?” Kestrel asked Whyte.

“Remarkably little.  Your two nurses agreed to go on your first tour of the villages.  I didn’t know how to pick which you would take and which you would leave,” the steward advised.

The next days were relaxed, as Kestrel wrote a letter to the king to announce the delivery of his remittance of revenues for the throne, and he prepared for his trip through several villages of his domain.  The day after he watched a squad of guards depart from Oaktown carrying the remittance funds to the capitol of Center Trunk, he and his three companions set out as a smaller contingent.

Each of them carried a set of skins of water from the healing spring, as well as food and other supplies.  After seeing how much they had to carry, Kestrel told Remy to pick a friend to bring along as a bearer, while he longed for a good horse to carry their goods, and promised himself he’d break the elven tradition by bringing a steed to his home someday.