The House of Yeel

Chapter 7: Aftermath





Jymoor found herself lying on cold stone in near darkness.

Is this what it’s like to be a statue?

She blinked. No…statues can’t blink, she told herself.

She lifted her head and turned this way and that, looking for light. She saw some illumination coming from directly above, through a screen of leaves and roots.

“I must have fallen through that hole,” she said. She felt her limbs, checking if her bones were intact. She felt something warm and sticky…blood…in her hair. She didn’t seem to be seriously injured.

“How will I get out?” Jymoor considered the monster Slevander. Did she want to get out? Maybe she would be safe, here. Until she starved.

Jymoor heard something. A familiar voice came to her in broken pieces of conversation. She struggled to catch the words.

“I tell you that she is invaluable…my guide and personal aide…drew me from my fortress…so many of us…comb the flora…the serpent has consumed her…search for her corpse…”

“Yeel!” Jymoor called out. Her voice reverberated loudly in the tunnel. “Yeel, can you hear me?”

“What…that I heard…listen! listen!”

“Yeel, I’m down here! Help me!” Jymoor yelled at the top of her lungs.

The voice grew louder.

“Ah, of course, such a simple explanation! She’s fallen through that gap in the earth’s surface! A natural cavern of some sort, and thank gravity for the rest. It has greedily sucked her into the bowels of the planet. It occurs to me that such a fall may have inflicted injury on my friend—”

“Yeel, I’m fine! Please get me out of here.”

“Ah, she awaits rescue! We must immediately devise a means by which we could—”

“Drop me a rope…or a vine!”

“Now that’s an interesting plan. A long flexible cord of some sort of…wait a second! Wait, that’s giving me an idea. Jymoor, close your eyes. I think I can effect your escape from there. Halt your visual reconnoiter for but a moment!”

“What?”

“Just stand still and close your eyes, my friend. Close your eyes for a second and I shall use a…a rope, as you say, please just do as I say and I will take care of the rest. Release your anxiety and trust in me.”

Jymoor felt confused, but she trusted the tall, wordy mage. She closed her eyes, standing uncertainly in the dark.

“I have my eyes closed.”

The barest whisper of a scraping…or slithering…noise came from above. Suddenly a cordon of taut material encircled her waist and rocketed her upward through the nest of roots above.

“Ack! What!” Jymoor spat. She couldn’t open her eyes as the roots whipped over her face. Then she felt warm sunlight and her feet found the ground again. Jymoor took a peek and found herself next to Yeel, in the garden. All about them people stood looking as confused as Jymoor felt.

“A most dangerous opening in the earth, my friend. I shall have to make an effort to remember it, lest others fall victim to the pit.”

“What kind of a rope was that? It felt almost…alive!”

“Ridiculous! The fall has scattered your mind, my friend. It’s good to see you alive! I thought you consumed by the beast. Gone forever, as it were, well not gone in the sense of removal of your substance, but of course in the sense of your mental faculties, your intellectual essence, the operation of your bodily functions in the manner intended as—”

“What happened to the black serpent? All the people, they’re free now?”

Avorn stepped forward. “We have Jymoor now. We should continue as soon as possible. Now that we have a larger group, we’ll have to organize ourselves to hunt and gather food more efficiently.”

“Slevander is dead thanks to the Crescent Knight,” Yeel said. “It was a close battle, but…”

“It was not me,” the knight interrupted. “It was that monster that you summoned. I thank you for my life, wizard. I doubted you before, I admit, but I’m glad to have you on our side.”

“Well, I should hope that I’m no longer considered facinorous by Your Knightship. This is a most welcome advance in the state of our relationship. I’d like to be accepted as one of your most valued allies against these barbarous hordes that plan to desecrate your knowledge storage centers.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched as Jymoor struggled to absorb this speech.

The knight grunted rudely and said, “We’ll camp here tonight and leave first thing in the morning. There are over four score of us altogether, soldiers, knights, princes, and priests.” Then Avorn turned and walked away toward another group of men and women who were milling about in confusion.

“Amazing, to find such a varied selection of your population that crosses both social strata as well as time boundaries. I think you may find it difficult to reassimilate all of these citizens back into your society unless there already exists some sort of framework for absorbing these sort of temporal castaways.”

Jymoor tried to understand again. She tried to form questions in her mind, seeking some way to ask for explanation. Her thought was interrupted when she noticed Master Kasil striding confidently toward them.

“Yeel!” Jymoor hissed. “That is…” then she stopped, realizing she was about to share her wonder with another figure of legend. She shook her head.

“Let me thank you personally for saving me, beautiful,” Kasil said, extending her hand to Jymoor.

“Beau-beautiful?” Jymoor croaked. Had the words been directed at her? Yet Master Kasil’s hand remained extended, awaiting her own. Jymoor started and thrust forward her own hand to shake Master Kasil’s vigorously.

“It was Yeel that saved you,” she said. “Or the Crescent Knight…”

“Oh, I’ll be sure and thank him later,” Kasil remarked and winked at her. Jymoor struggled to deal with the sudden familiarity exhibited by the famous sword master.

“So you’re the mighty Yeel?” Kasil said, turning to Yeel.

“Well, I am stronger than the typical…oh, um, mighty is perhaps an overstatement. Perhaps capable, or, oh, maybe clever. And inquisitive. Oh, I like that one. Yes, I rather prefer perhaps Yeel the Clever and Inquisitive.”

“Modesty. Good. I like that in wizards. Now in my knights, I prefer a bit of egotism.”

“Your knights? Are you a queen of some sort?” Yeel asked.

“Master Kasil is a sword master,” Jymoor inserted, deflecting the question. “She’s renowned for her skill. Well, she was renowned…”

“It’s been a while, I understand,” Master Kasil said. For the first time, her bubbly personality submerged. “Well, I’ll let you have your rest. You must be exhausted after such a harrowing fight! Of course those of us who were statues want nothing but to move around and enjoy our freedom a bit first.”

Master Kasil walked away toward the other survivors. Jymoor bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to send Kasil away so quickly. Still, she’d now spoken to no less than three legendary figures in the span of a week.

“There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Remember when we fought that one named Faverhind? I saw some sort of shadow in the green flame that danced in the air,” Jymoor said. “Like something alive.”

“I don’t recall the most recent incident, but it sounds like his art. Yakinzin-rali, it’s called in his language. I don’t know if the common tongue has such a word. The magic he summoned would create for him a powerful fighting construct, seemingly alive as you said. I do remember that in the end I neutralized him, so presumably I got him before the process was complete.”

“You’ve mentioned that you have certain memory issues. How is it that you know so much about some things and can’t remember anything about others?”

“Ah, well, I remembered that long and hard. It will be many seasons before it could pass through my awareness. But I have only so much energy, after all. Surely sometimes you find yourself too tired to remember? Or is it truly as effortless for your kind as it seems?”

“Well, I have to pay attention to remember something. I guess it gets tiring after a long lesson, like if I have been learning things for hours.”

“Learning for hours? I’d say that you are quite my superior in that regard. I would be exhausted in a matter of minutes if required to remember new material for a long time. Of course, handling something in the short term is quite a different matter.”

Jymoor nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps that explained some of Yeel’s odd behavior. Jymoor had been thinking of Yeel as an icon of wonder who left all mortals far behind in every way. But it seemed that even the mighty wizard had certain disadvantages. It made the man seem more human to her. Somewhere in her mind, a part of her dared to think that she might have a closer relationship with him than she ever dreamed possible.

“I must find my rest,” Jymoor said. “It’s been a long and very scary day.” She took a step closer to Yeel.

“Then I bid you good night,” he said. “I hope that your rest is long and restorative. With luck you may—”

The sound of shouting interrupted Yeel’s farewell. Yeel moved toward the noise with a speed that Jymoor found surprising. The man’s tall frame didn’t reduce his agility.

Jymoor followed Yeel toward the disturbance. She saw that two groups of soldiers were squaring off against each other in a nearby clearing of the garden. One group had three men with halberds, the other had four sword-armed soldiers.

“These men are in support of the usurper Kalandrus! We are sworn to kill their kind!” said a sword-armed man.

“Stop!” Jymoor said. “Kalandrus, did you say? Please lend me your ear. This revolution ran its course many years past! Kalandrus is dead and gone, and for that matter so are those who resisted his rule.”

“Disorientation is common in situations of temporal dislocation,” Yeel added. “Your best hope is to forget your previous timeframe and learn the details of your current one. Try to assimilate yourselves into the current culture. Set aside your differences and strive for a more homogeneous structure.”

“Who’re you?” one of the men demanded heatedly.

“This is the great Yeel!” Jymoor burst out.

“Yeel of the night of flames? Who saved the city from destruction?”

“Ah, I remember that,” Yeel said.

“Yes, this is he,” Jymoor said. “And he will brook no dissension! We are all on the same side now, us against the invaders who threaten the kingdom. It is, in many ways, the same civilization that you remember. Don’t you all wish to defend it?”

The leader of the larger group opened his mouth, but stood for a moment as if he lost his train of thought. Jymoor noticed a strong scent rise on the air, a pleasant fragrance. She thought it must originate from one of the nearby groups of flowered plants.

Finally the leader seemed to recover. He smiled. “Of course you’re right. They’re of the same glorious nation as we! I respect them for that…in fact, I love them for it!”

The man threw down his sword and staggered forward to embrace the nearest soldier in the other group. Jymoor’s mouth fell open in shock.

“I had no idea that my skills as a negotiator were so highly developed,” Jymoor said quietly, hoping that only Yeel would hear. She took a deep breath and smelled the wonderful aroma again, and a contagious smile found her own lips.

“But on the other hand, this proud kingdom is a part of all of us…I can’t help but feel anything but deep caring for all of our citizens! And for you, my lord!”

Jymoor wavered slightly, catching herself before falling to the ground. She experienced the feeling of motion and she giggled as euphoria overcame her. Vaguely she became aware of Yeel standing next to her, holding a bunch of bright red flowers. For a moment the image wavered, as if it were a mirage. Jymoor saw an image of the tentacled helper beast she had encountered back in Yeel’s palace. She blinked rapidly.

“Ah, Yeel, our beloved protector Yeel!” swooned Jymoor. “Tell me, is that unbelievable smell coming from those tiny flowers? It is such a…peaceful, wonderful smell.”

“Very perceptive, my friend. That is exactly what you smell…these vapors are quite calming, are they not? I distinctly remember that they sometimes have that effect on your kind. I have always found tribal squabbles to be fascinating, but I didn’t have the desire to learn more from a vantage point of such extreme proximity.”

“Huh?” Jymoor smiled and tilted her head. She reached out and grabbed Yeel’s arm, holding herself up. She knew that everything would be fine.

“Well the complex interactions between—”

“No, I meant, why do you keep saying, ‘your kind’? I know you’re a recluse, a powerful wizard, but in a way we are all the same, are we not?” Jymoor decided it would be fun to sit, so she plopped down on the plush grass. “Setting aside a few memory oddities, of course,” she added.

Yeel cleared his throat. “Of course. I’m sorry, I meant to say, those of your kingdom.”

“Of course you did, Great Yeel,” Jymoor giggled, and collapsed back onto the ground, sound asleep.





***





Yeel regarded the would-be combatants and decided that they would fare better without their weapons, at least in the short term. There were enough other armed refugees about, including the Crescent Knight, to ward off any attack by wild animals that might materialize overnight. Yeel collected the weapons and placed them in a pile obscured by some bushes.

Next Yeel considered the value of the garden. The red flowers would be much more useful if properly processed from their raw form.

“In fact, it may be that there are other valuable herbs in this place,” Yeel told himself.

As night had fallen the humans had separated into several groups, each centered around a large fire. Avorn had organized a system of watches among the old soldiers who had been revived, and occasionally one of these patrols would walk nearby, although they always gave Yeel a wide berth.

“Hmm, I’ll collect what I can here, and then head back to my laboratory later. I assume I have my roveport here somewhere?”

Yeel felt about his packs and found the roveport at his belt.

“Ah yes, there it is. Now, which of these plants might be valuable? They don’t seem to be marked…I may have to take samples of all of them!”

Yeel worked his way through the grounds by the light of the moon. He collected cuttings from flowers here and there, also adding some berries and roots to his bags. At some point much later he looked up and saw Avorn facing him from across a bed of plants. The knight wore his pearly armor, gleaming in the moonlight.

“Hello, Avorn. I’m surprised to see you up this late. Surely you aren’t harboring some interest in these roots and herbs yourself?”

“I’ve come to finish my quest to the Far Coast,” Avorn said, tromping around the intervening foliage.

“Ah, no more negotiation is necessary, I assure you my friend. I’ve already resolved to help your people against the invaders. A daunting task to be sure, but I believe that through the application of—”

“You don’t understand, Yeel. I didn’t come to the Far Coast to ask for your help. I came there to slay you.”

“Is it a common human trait to interrupt the speaker? I have noticed a tendency in many of you to do that. And now you say you want to do me harm? Is there some connection between the interruptions and some kind of animosity that you—”

“I am the fifth generation to wear this armor. And your meddling in our affairs has been described from father to son the whole time. You ruined my ancestor’s plan to become king. You saved a part of the city that had been purposefully sacrificed, for the better of all.” Avorn drew his sword and advanced on Yeel.

“Ah, perhaps you could briefly smell these,” Yeel said, offering a bunch of red flowers.

“That won’t work again, sorcerer. Your magic cannot affect me under the light of the moon,” the Crescent Knight growled. “Tonight you die!”

The knight stepped forward and thrust with his longsword. Yeel retreated rapidly out of range of the blade. Avorn charged but then slipped on the slime of Yeel’s track.

“What trickery is this? Come back here and fight!”

“Oh, I shall fight I assure you. I’ll meet you in combat most fierce but momentarily,” Yeel said. He backed away rapidly, fishing out his malinthander and placing the idea of a sword in hand to his aggressor.

“I didn’t even know you possessed a sword,” said Avorn. “This will be more pleasant than I thought.”

“One moment, I ask of you, my fine opponent. I must simply remember one thing, then we may resume our adversarial activities,” Yeel said.

Avorn growled and thrust again, but Yeel dodged to one side and leaped over a bunch of flowers with surprising grace. The Crescent Knight was not far behind, his augmented strength allowing him to keep up with Yeel’s retreat.

“Patience, please. I tell you that I will be ready in but a moment,” Yeel urged. Avorn ignored him and pressed on.

Yeel ran across an open area of grass, angling to one side. Avorn swiped at a foot with his sword, barely missing.

“I’m sorry to delay, but I must remember…”

Avorn burst forward again, his blade back to strike. Then he plummeted downward through a hole in the ground. He grunted as he struck a wall and then slammed down onto a stony dirt floor.

Yeel slid forward and positioned some of his eye pods over the opening to see through it.

“…where that hole is!” Yeel finished.

Yeel peered down through the roots into the cavern. Avorn had rebounded from the walls of the hole and landed in a different spot than Jymoor. By a stroke of bad luck, the man had fallen onto a sharp boulder, hitting his unprotected head and killing him instantly.

Yeel replaced his malinthander at his belt and peered down at Avorn’s body.

“Most curious,” Yeel commented. “One can’t even save innocent lives without incurring animosity from others. I suppose that now I shall have to find another to take up the role of the Crescent Knight. Someone of upstanding moral fiber and with respect for science and knowledge. I know just the one for the job.”