Jeffrey Quyle - The Healing Spring

There was a murmur from people behind him, and he realized that he was once again the last contestant left to finish. A number of targets had already been taken down from archers who were out of the running, leaving only four targets standing. Kestrel looked at them, and realized that he needed to get one more arrow in the center to tie, and both of his last two in the center to win outright.

The yellow shaft came out of the bag next. He had anticipated its drop in flight correctly in the last round of the competition, and he was sure it was still the right way to aim the arrow. He corrected slightly, moving his aim just slightly lower, and a hair to the right, then released the shot. It flew in virtually the same path it had used before, and stuck securely in the center of the target.

He was at least in a tie! There was a slight stirring behind him, but no applause, suggesting that his audience was primarily the other participants he was competing with.

He pulled out another slightly bent shaft, the one that had flown to the left last time. He gently rubbed the wood, then gave it a slight bend, hoping to improve it. He held it up for inspection, and felt the eyes of the other archers examining it closely. He placed in on his string, then gave it one more adjustment. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, then opened them and aimed at the right edge of the center, and calmly released his hold on the string and the arrow, and let his hopes fly through the air.

The arrow started straight, then began to drift left, as he had expected. He watched the ongoing sideways motion as the bolt flew towards the target, and by the time it arrived it was only slightly left of the center of the center portion of the target, scoring a victory for him, and first eliciting a sound of groans, and then a slight smattering of polite applause, except for one enthusiastic pair of hands clapping loudly.

“That’s my partner!” Vinetia told anyone who was listening. “What are you doing here in the consolation flight when you’re shooting like that?” she pointed at the thick cluster of arrows in the center of his target.

“Not that you even needed to be here, since I qualified cleanly in my flight,” she told him, walking with him to the target to retrieve his arrows. “Let’s get to the linden tree and meet the rest of the squad; we’ve got time before the next round.” Together they walked away from the field where the green-striped flag was being taken down from the pole.

“Did you hear about the failure who got kicked out of the field?” one of the other squad members was saying as they walked up to the small group minutes later. “Some arrow seller said a sprite was stealing arrows from her and giving them to a human!” There was a moment of uneasy silence, and then heads turned to look at Kestrel.

“For my next trick, I’ll have the sprite steal some jewels!” he said hurriedly, hoping to deflect scrutiny with laughter.

Vinetia slapped his back hard, and the squad laughed.

“There were a couple of witnesses who claimed they saw a sprite too,” someone else added.

“I’ll make my sprite wear a mask so she can’t be identified,” Kestrel responded, and the group laughed loudly.

“My partner may be ugly, but he’s funny,” Vinetia said. “And he’s good with his bow! He’ll shoot us through the next round easily.” Together they all walked back to their post where they ate a late lunch in the commissary hall.

“I’d like to go find a couple of better arrows,” Kestrel told Vinetia as they pushed away from the table after their meal.

“Lucretia, I’ve got to go run an errand. Will you take Kestrel to the armory so he can restock his quiver?” his partner asked another elf guard.

Lucretia looked at Kestrel coolly. “Of course,” she agreed. “Let’s go this way,” she spoke and began to walk out the rear door of the hall, leaving Kestrel to catch up.

Kestrel remembered that Cheryl had warned him not to look at the girls of Center Trunk. Lucretia was undoubtedly exactly the type of girl Cheryl had warned him not to look at, he was sure. He snuck glances at her as they began their journey, evaluating her, trying to guess whether she was the steady mate of some fortunate elf.

They walked without speaking until they reached the armory, where Lucretia, a slender, classically beautiful woman, suddenly spoke to Kestrel at last. “Are you good with a sword?” she nodded towards the rack of blades on one side of the practice room.

“I had a little training, not much. Just the same as everyone else, I guess,” Kestrel answered.

“It’s a human weapon; I just thought you might be naturally good,” she said. “The arrows are in there,” Lucretia pointed to an adjacent hall, where Kestrel went and found a large assortment of shafts. He carefully selected a half dozen more, and was trying to decide whether to add one more when the blue sprite suddenly appeared in front of him, standing on a bench so that she was nearly looking at him eye-to-eye.

“Dewberry!” Kestrel felt his voice rise an octave in excitement. “What are you doing here?”

“Did those arrows help?” the sprite asked.

Kestrel took a deep breath, trying to overcome the shock of the sprite’s arrival. “They helped a lot. I won the competition thanks to having them.

“Why did you give them to me?” he asked.

“I’ve been watching you,” the sprite’s attractive face showed a faint sign of embarrassment. “My fiance said that I hadn’t been gracious in how I treated you, considering you saved my life, healed me, and took care of me without ever taking advantage of me in any way.

“And,” she spoke slowly, “I decided he was right. So I decided to watch you, to see if I could do something to help you, as an apology.”

Kestrel thought back to their last exchange, when Dewberry had been so combative and unpleasant. “Thank you Dewberry,” he decided not to upset her by agreeing that she had been disagreeable. Her procurement of the arrows apparently amounted to a peace offering, and he was appreciative that it had been such a practical gesture.

With her elevated height on the bench, he could closely study the perfect features of her face, and marvel again at how beautiful she was. “You’re engaged to be married? And you said last time your father is the king of sprites? Will you be the queen someday?”

“No, my older sister will be. I’m going to marry a prince of the water imps. It will be a great alliance for our peoples, and he is a good mate for me — he says I’m beautiful!” she gave a little self-conscious laugh.

“You are beautiful,” Kestrel said enthusiastically.

“Kestrel!” a voice called loudly from the doorway. Both he and Dewberry turned to see Lucretia staring at them.

“I have to go. I still owe you the three favors I promised,” she said, and then vanished.

“You do have sprites!” Lucretia shouted excitedly. “I saw one with you! You are their master! By Morph and Tamson and Kere! That’s incredible! I’ve never seen a sprite before!”

“Sshhh,” Kestrel held his hands out in front of him, waving them rapidly back and forth. “Lucretia, it’s not like that at all. She was just being friendly. I am not the master of any sprites!” he spoke loudly, hoping to alleviate any harm Lucretia’s comment might have caused if Dewberry had overheard and felt sensitive.

“I saw what I saw,” she said as they came together.

“There’s an explanation for this,” Kestrel said.

“Well make it speedy, because we need to get back to the next round of competition,” Lucretia replied. They began to walk out of the armory. And so Kestrel began to tell his story, as Lucretia listened, fully absorbed, neither of them paying any attention to anything around them until they found themselves at the competition fields once again, though the story was only halfway finished.