The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 05 - Journey to Uniontown Read online

  Kestrel turned and saw that Probst was backed up by more than a squad of soldiers, and was stalking towards Kestrel.

  “As you can see, I am alive, and Seafare’s hopes for freedom are still alive as well. Uniontown’s days of power are waning, and the Viathins will be hunted down and killed everywhere in and around the Inner Seas, Probst,” Kestrel shouted.

  “Come no closer, or your life will end now, instead of soon,” Kestrel warned, “and you’ll be the one killed by me, not vice versa.”

  “Ruelin, this bluster and rebellion are coming a bit late, don’t you think?” Probst smirked “Do you think that you and a handful of guards and a couple of blue pets are going to change the course of history?

  “You could have been more concerned about your precious nation three years ago, and had a better chance of delaying our conquest. As it is, we’ll soon have forty ships of Uniontown forces on the way here to assure that poor Namber can hold the throne here better than he did in Graylee – I just dispatched a messenger ship to Uniontown to order the troops hurried here.”

  “That will be the last thing you do,” Kestrel said, and he hurled his knife at the ambassador.

  The knife sank into the chest of Probst, who looked down in surprise, then fell to the ground. “Lucretia, return,” Kestrel called.

  “What about the rest of you?” Kestrel asked. “Are you followers of Uniontown or of Seafare? If you are loyal to your prince, then kneel to me now,” he barked the impatient ultimatum. He hated to spend precious time attending to the guards, when he knew he was close to Moorin and assuring her safety.

  He watched intently as the guards behind the dead Uniontown ambassador remained standing, frozen by uncertainty.

  He looked at a man who appeared thuggish and obstinate, a man who had a scowl on his face. “You,” he pointed with his knife, “are you going to give your fealty to your prince?”

  The man swore a curse at Kestrel, who threw his knife at the man. “Killcen, get the imps ready to charge with your pikes,” he said to the imps in elvish.

  “Lucretia, return,” he called, holding his hand high to increase the visibility of the deadly weapon that flew back to its owner.

  “Now, who is ready to kneel and proclaim their loyalty?” he asked, and watched the remaining soldiers quickly drop.

  “Odare,” he spoke in elvish to his imp friend, “take that water skin over to them so that they each may drink from it.”

  “Everyone must drink,” he said loudly. “Take the water skin and take a drink, all of you, then return the skin to the imp.

  “You,” Kestrel turned and pointed to one of the guards who had been recruited at the pool house, “go with me to the Countess’s suite.

  “Captain, you stay here and take charge of the new supporters we’ve picked up, then bring them to the Countess’s suite,” Kestrel hastily directed, then turned and gave his new guide a shove and they began to run again.

  Within two minutes they reached the hallway where Moorin’s suite was located, a place that Kestrel recognized. He saw two slain guards outside her door, while another half dozen stood in their place guarding the room from any intruders, and Kestrel knew that Namber was inside the suite with Moorin. He reached out and threw his knife at one of the guards, then recalled the knife before the others were even aware their companion was down. He threw the knife a second time from around the corner, and called the knife back, then threw it a third time, as his escort watched in amazement.

  There were shouts coming from the three remaining guards, and Kestrel sent his knife one more time, then tapped his companion on the shoulder, motioned, and started running towards the doorway.

  The entrance to Moorin’s suite was surrounded by dead men, while the two living guards looked in fear at the approach of Kestrel and the other guard. Their spirits broke, and the men started running away.

  “You stay outside the suite and let me know if anyone comes to attack us,” Kestrel instructed as he called his knife back into his hand one more time, just as he reached the doorway and thrust it open, then stepped inside.

  Moorin was crying, sobbing, her voice soft but audible.

  “Close that door and stop all that racket out there!” Namber’s voice shouted in a tone that was petulant and hateful.

  “Moorin, my countess, are you alright? Is Namber the only one with you?” Kestrel called out in elvish.

  “Kestrel? Are you alive? Yes, just Namber in here, but he has a sword and a knife,” she replied in the same language.

  “What gutter talk is that? Who’s out there speaking that filth? No one will ever speak the language of the elves in this nation again, now that I’m in charge!” Namber screamed.

  “It turns out you’re not in charge, Namber,” Kestrel said as he stepped into sight, his knife in one hand and his staff in the other. He grimly threw the knife on the floor; he didn’t want to use it. He wanted to fight Namber personally – he wanted to strike the man with his staff, and score his flesh. Kestrel felt a raging hatred burning as he thought of all the pain and loss and suffering he and his friends had suffered because of the former prince of Graylee.

  He saw that Moorin was hurt. Her clothes were torn, and her hands and shoulders scored with bloody evidence that Namber had used a blade on her.

  “Ruelin? You’re dead!” Namber screamed. “How did you get in here? How did you get past the guards?”

  “If I’m dead, then I’m a ghost, and no mortal can stop me,” Kestrel replied grimly. “And if I’m alive then I’ve been able to beat multiple men at once. Either way, you’re going to suffer for all the pain you’ve caused.”

  Namber advanced towards Kestrel, his sword held low. “You’re using a peasant’s stick for your final battle, Ruelin? Such poor judgment, just as you’ve shown ever since you got back.

  “Of course, you never should have gotten back. Those pirates were supposed to kill you at sea and deliver this little elven delicacy to me, only somehow you managed to slip past them,” the Graylee exile said as he suddenly sprang his attack on Kestrel, bringing the sword sweeping up with his right hand while the knife in his left hand slashed wildly at Kestrel’s face.

  Kestrel pivoted the staff, first low, then high, blocking both attacks, then swinging the bladed end of the staff around so that it swept across the bridge of Namber’s nose, slicing the skin and opening up a flow of blood that astonished the victim of Kestrel’s prowess with the staff.

  As Namber stepped back in shock, Kestrel swept the low end of the staff at his knee, and hit it violently, causing the joint to buckle. Namber started to fall, and he stabbed his knife at Kestrel, pinking him in the leg while he went down, as Kestrel in turn administered a violent stab with the staff to the former prince’s chest.

  “Take that for what you did to Moorin!” Kestrel shouted at the man on the floor as he cracked the staff hard against Namber’s skull. “And take that for killing Philip’s parents!” he drove the end of the staff into his opponent’s stomach.

  “And this is for what your men did to me in your palace when you had me captive!” Kestrel’s rage was flowing, and he took the sword from Namber’s unconscious hand and stabbed the outcast from Graylee in the chest with his own blade. In the passion of the moment, even murder wasn’t enough; he had more anger he needed to take out on the evil prince, and he raised the sword again.

  “Kestrel! That’s enough! He’s dead,” Moorin cried.

  He looked up, triumphant and full of rage, and saw Moorin staring at him fearfully. He looked down at the body he had just attacked so viciously, and he dropped the sword. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you better,” he told her as he looked at her, and saw that vulnerable as she was, as abused as she was, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, more desirable than anyone else in his experience. He used his staff as a crutch to help him walk, his leg painful from Namber’s attack, and he crossed the room to reach her.

  “Dewberry!” he called as he reached Moorin, who st
ood by her bed. He bent and picked up a shawl from the ground, then carefully wrapped it around Moorin’s shoulders as she stood silently, and he drew her into a hug, a desperate hug that tried to protect her and reassure her, just as Dewberry arrived in the room.

  “Dewberry, thank the gods you’re here,” Kestrel told the sprite, “And thank you for all you’ve done tonight to help me! Can you do more favors for me?” he quickly asked.

  “Kestrel lover, bloody bedroom lover, do you wish to go to the healing spring?” the sprite immediately asked.

  “I cannot leave this palace. There’s a battle underway and I have to be here to lead it. But if you could take this piece of my heart to the spring and let her heal there, I will be grateful,” he answered. “Go and get Picco, or Alicia, or Lucretia to stay there with her while her body heals from the wounds she has.”

  “What are you planning Kestrel?” Moorin looked up at him.

  “I can’t believe you’re alive,” she said in a softer tone a moment later. “They told me you were already dead, that a squad was sent to kill you.”

  “It was,” Kestrel confirmed, “but they didn’t do the job.

  “I’ve got some loyal guards now, I’ve got allies, and I’ve killed all the Viathins, Probst, and now Namber. Things are happening rapidly, but the most important thing is to make sure that you are safe and comfortable,” he told her as he looked down into her face.

  A pair of sprites, silently summoned by Dewberry arrived in the room.

  “Where are you sending me?” Moorin asked.

  Kestrel stepped back from her. “There is a spring in the Eastern Forest where the water has healing properties. The sprites will take you there, and then they will bring you a companion to keep you company. Tomorrow morning, I will ask them to bring you back here, if the palace is safe. Otherwise, if Seafare is not safe, they will take you some place where you will be safe and fed and housed, until I can have you back by my side.”

  “And what if I chose not to want to be by your side?” she asked him quietly.

  He looked down at her in confusion. “But I have to be with you. The goddess told me.”

  “She told you that you had to rescue me and save me, I know,” Moorin answered. “I’ve heard you say that more than once. That’s how I knew who you were this evening at the banquet. But you have already rescued me and saved me, so perhaps there’s no more command from the goddess to keep us together.”

  Kestrel looked at her, stunned. “If you do not want to be with me, I will not force myself on you,” he answered passionately. “I’m not Namber,” he gestured towards the dead man on the floor behind him. “Go and be safe and heal at the spring. I want you to have that, and in the morning, if events allow, we will talk, or the imps and the sprites can take you to Kirevee or Center Trunk or wherever you chose to go to be safe.

  “Dewberry,” he spoke to the sprite who had watched and listened with unusual silence, “take her and protect her for me, please.”

  “It will be as you wish, Kestrel human face,” the sprite said softly. The other two sprites wrapped themselves around Moorin, but Dewberry paused first and gave Kestrel a momentary hug. “We will do all we can to protect your heart,” she said softly, then she too joined the circle around Moorin, who stood silently, staring at Kestrel, and then they all disappeared.

  Kestrel took a deep breath, his emotions in turmoil, then turned and stepped over Namber’s body and returned to the entry, where his sole guard companion stood. “What’s your name?” Kestrel asked.

  “Guardsman Sung, sir,” the man replied.

  “Sung, we need to move on; things are taken care of here. Let’s return to the rest of our men, and then we’ll all go to the tower.

  Sung led Kestrel back towards the others, who they met on the way. “Captain, are all these men committed to following us?” Kestrel asked his officer.

  “Yes sir, they are,” the man replied.

  “Odare, Namber of Graylee is dead, and there are several people who will want to know that. Will you send messengers to Philip of Graylee, and to Creata on his ship, and to Stillwater and Wren, and let them know we are on our way to join then at the tower?” Kestrel asked his imp companion.

  “We will send them out immediately,” the imp replied. She looked at a trio of her companions, who responded by disappearing from the hallway, leaving Kestrel with a score of guards and a trio of imps as his force.

  “Captain, lead us to the tower, and we’ll start to plot our next steps,” Kestrel ordered.

  Chapter 2 – Victory in the Palace

  Minutes later the forces were together at the base of the tower, and Wren shook Kestrel’s hand in congratulations. Other than the imps, only she had an inkling of how meaningful the victory was for Kestrel to have killed the former prince of Graylee. For the guards who had been converted, who did not know who Kestrel was, and who only saw him as Ruelin, the besieged ruler of Seafare, the death of Namber was only another problem solved, as well as evidence of a new-found assertiveness on the part of their prince.

  “We need to convert men as quickly as possible to our cause. By sunrise we need to have a sizable force that can hold the palace, and begin to take control of the city,” Kestrel told the group that gathered around him. “Where can we make quick conversions?” he asked out loud.

  “The junior officers, my lord,” said his highest ranking officer, the captain who had been converted as he stood next to the pool where the Viathins had died. “If we go to where my fellow captains live, we can give them all your magic water, and they’ll lead the rank and file guards on your behalf.”

  “That will work,” Wren agreed in elvish. “And you could ask the imps to start bringing others here from Graylee, or from the ship.”

  Kestrel looked at Jonson. “Your majesty, one of your subjects has already gone to Graylee to inform them of the death of Namber. Would you send more of your subjects to begin transporting Graylee’s soldiers here to help us? Would you take Wren with you to explain our needs?” he asked.

  “You need me here to help lead your battles!” Wren protested. “You can’t send me away!”

  “Philip needs to hear from someone he trusts,” Kestrel rebutted, as the two argued in elvish in front of the human guards.

  “Bring Creata and Picco and Ruelin here first, so that they can understand what is happening. Then one of them can go back to Philip and explain. He’ll trust Creata and Picco,” Wren replied.

  “Can I trust Ruelin if I bring him back?” Kestrel asked her. He took her by the arm and led her away from the others as he lowered his voice, even as they used their own language. “If Ruelin comes back, and tries to be the prince, we’ll have chaos. This place could fall right back into Uniontown’s hands.”

  “He’s changed Kestrel,” Wren said. “As soon as we gave him the water of Decimindion, his eyes were opened to what had happened; he’s told us he repented of the things he’s done here, and he wants to make it better. Picco has spent many hours with him, and I know that she believes he’s sincere.”

  Kestrel’s eyes widened. “It’s a gamble,” he insisted. He didn’t mention his other worry, that Ruelin and Moorin would be together again in the palace, and his hopes of winning the girl’s heart might be threatened by the presence of the soul of the man she was truly engaged to.

  “He will support you. He’ll want a better nation to rule when you two switch your bodies back,” Wren replied. “When will that be, anyway? How will you do that?”

  “I don’t know,” he shook his head slowly. “That’s an issue that has to wait for another time. Alright, we’ll try it your way.

  “Jonson, hold back on my request,” he said to the king of the imps. “Stillwater, can you return to the ship where you found Wren, and bring back the others from the ship, Creata and Picco and the one in my body?”

  And with that, a group of imps disappeared.

  “You stay here and explain to them what’s happening,” Kestrel told Wren. He heard t
he Seafare guards behind them shuffling as they grew curious and impatient with the lengthy conversation they were excluded from. “I’ll go with the guards and take the water skin, and we’ll start to build up our forces here tonight.” With that he turned before she could protest further, and went over to the captain, who led him and half the guards away from the tower.

  Kestrel’s mind wandered as he walked in the midst of his small force. He worried about the messenger ship the Uniontown ambassador had sent; he needed to cut it off before it could pass along the order for the dispatch of Uniontown forces to Seafare. He worried about Moorin – about her comfort at the spring, and about the state of her heart. He worried about the huge task of trying to set Seafare free from the evil influences that had dominated it. And beyond all that, he did worry about how to regain his own body, to transfer his soul back to the rightful place it belonged.

  But mostly he thought about Moorin, trying to decipher their last meeting in her suite, when she had pointed out that he had already met the terms of his prophesized duty to her. She had seemed to be warming to him during their time together, but perhaps it was really only Ruelin – Ruelin’s body – that she was ready and able to accept. Or conversely, maybe it was Ruelin’s body, the body of the man who seemed to have bought his betrothal to her, that she rejected.

  He bumped into the back of the guardsman walking in front of him, and realized the group had come to a stop while his mind had been wandering.

  “These are the officers’ quarters, your majesty,” Captain Ashby explained. Kestrel saw a pair of hallways branching off, each lined with numerous doors.

  “Let’s start going to each and every door, and give them the water,” Kestrel said, and he knocked on the first door himself. An hour later they had more than two dozen captains and lieutenants on their side, and the officers were going to the barracks, awakening the troops in the middle of the night and lining them up on the parade grounds to make then each drink the water that would wash away any allegiance or influence imposed on them by the Viathins.