Kara (5 page)

Kara quickly covered her face to hide her
tears.

“I’m sorry…Whatever I….”

“How can I get back over to the human side?”
She stared at the creature before her, tears running down her face.
Somehow, she had to find out what happened to her family.

Hambone stuttered. “Um, I don’t think you
can.”

“What?”

“The river is pretty fast and then there’s
the wall.”

“I need to save my father!”

A loud crash sounded from outside and a voice
boomed, “We know you are in there! Come out!”

Kara jumped to her feet. “The Witch Guard!”
Her voice was hoarse with fear. “They’ve found me!” She didn’t
bother to look at Hambone. She ran in circles looking for an escape
route.

“Out here now, dwarc!” The voice sounded
closer. Kara looked around wildly. Surely there would be somewhere
to hide.

“Kara….”

“I need to get out of here!” Kara bolted for
the back door.

“Kara!” Hambone screamed at her, which
sounded louder than the voice from outside. It made her freeze in
her tracks. A new fear descended upon her. Was this monster now
going to eat her?

“Kara. It’s okay.” Hambone said calmly.

“The Witch Guard…it’s here!”

“No. It isn’t.” He nodded toward the door.
“Come, I’ll show you.” He walked toward the door.

She stood stationary as if the slightest
motion would expose her location. How did he know that it wasn’t
the Witch Guard? Should she trust him?

“Kara, get out here.” The command came out
gruff but held a humorous note to it. She obeyed, but cautiously.
The first sight of silver and violet, she was out of there.

She made her way outside and the afternoon
sun felt good on her still damp clothes. The greenery sparkled.
Everything held a new vivid color. This forest felt so alive.

Talk and laughter rose up from around a large
shrub on the far side of the willow. Kara kept her guard up.

She saw Hambone first. But then things
started to look strange. The dwarc was talking and laughing with a
fox and a green glow floating in the air.

“Hambone has company?” The fox met eyes with
Kara who stood frozen to the spot, clutching the branch of a shrub.
The animal pranced over, followed by the green speck.

Kara’s paralysis broke and she stepped a few
feet back as the creature and glow approached.

“It’s okay, Kara. They’re friends.” Hambone
said, as he approached her too.

She still couldn’t believe it. The word
friends had a different meaning to her. Sure, Birch was her friend,
but he didn’t talk. He just barked.

“Madam, let me introduce myself. I am Dante,
at your service.” The fox bowed and then extended a paw toward
Kara. It stayed there until she tentatively shook it. The green
ball of light came forward. It made a twittering sound as if tiny
bells were ringing and crickets singing.

“That’s Grace. She’s a sprite.” Hambone said.
Grace twittered some more. “Oh, and she is pleased to make your
acquaintance.”

Kara’s eyes still felt the size of saucers.
This was too much for one day. Heck, it was too much for her whole
life. She longed to be back on the normal side of the river.

“I think she is still a little scared from
the prank you guys pulled.” Hambone said.

“That was harmless. It was only meant to
scare the big guy.” Dante said, swishing his cedar-red tail in
front of him. Grace twittered something too. As she talked, her
aura flashed a little greener.

Hambone looked again toward Kara and then
slowly made his way over to her. He poked her in the shoulder.
“Earth to Kara. Are you still in there?”

“I’m…I’m sorry. It’s just that…this all has
been…I don’t know.” She struggled to control the wave of emotion
that rolled over her. She closed her eyes and started to count.
Maybe this weirdness would all go away, if she just shut them
out.

Schunk!

The sound came from in front of her. An arm
suddenly snaked around her shoulders, but the arm felt too small to
be Hambone’s.

“We didn’t mean to scare you that much. Come
on now, you’re making me feel bad.” Dante’s voice whispered in her
ear. How did a fox put an arm around someone? And where was the
fur?

Kara willed her eyes to open, not sure of
what they would see. She turned her head and looked into a pair of
gorgeous, golden-brown eyes.

What? Dante is a man?

Chapter Four

The castle felt cold to him these days, even
though torches and fireplaces blazed nightly. Things felt foul
since the happening. La’ard hated to even think about the event. It
made his heart ice up while his mind screamed with rage. But most
of all, it caused him pain.

Very few people roamed the corridors at
night. Maybe a stray servant or guard, but no one important other
than the monarch. Had they seen the king’s anguish or even his
tears, La’ard would have had them executed immediately. It was
weakness to be in such a state, but it was not a state he could
prevent at night.

Before knocking upon the heavy oak door, he
composed himself mentally. Every evening he went through this
ritual, but he never knew what to expect. Ruler in his own castle,
and fear, despair, and insanity always found him. Even his fist
hesitated before it struck.

Almost immediately, a voice commanded.
Come.

Even though he had heard it before, the voice
still sent chills creeping down his spine. The sound was like an
unearthly snake hiss, yet deeper and hauntingly charming.

The door swung open, admitting him. And then
it swung shut as soon as he was in. La’ard’s terror surfaced to
meet his rage.

His daughter Euphoria’s room looked very
inviting—a room every noble girl dreamed of having. A massive,
four-poster bed sat as the centerpiece. The living canopy blossomed
with flowers, some from the farthest reaches of the known lands.
Violet and silver hues appeared in all aspects of the space—from
the fabric at the windows, to the rugs on the floor, to the hanging
wall tapestries.

Only one object seemed out of place in the
princess’ paradise, an ancient oval mirror. Out of place, but not
because it wasn’t fit for a princess. One look at the marvelous
crystal frame and the deep blue murk of the mirror’s surface told
otherwise. The mirror didn’t belong, because it was broken. A foot
long shard, jagged like a bolt from the heavens, was missing from
the lower half. On closer inspection, the rest of the surface
showed cracks as well—a giant jigsaw puzzle, missing one fatal
shard.

La’ard stood at the door, gazing into the
fractured looking glass. His eyes delved deep, lost in its
darkness. Unlike a regular mirror, it did not reflect images
back.

Pity
.

The voice came from a fireplace chair. La’ard
turned from the mirror, emotions tucked away. He approached the
fire. It lit the room casting shadows that danced upon the stone
hearth with joy and merriment. But for the king, these dancing
spirits screamed in terror, fought to escape. Warmth was not what
he felt, but freezing, icy cold, like a heart that had died.

In the chair sat his daughter, Princess
Euphoria, a lovely young woman of twenty-one. Tonight she wore an
elegant violet dress made for her by the royal seamstress on her
twentieth birthday. It had only been worn once since that eve.

Chocolate-colored hair fell upon her
shoulders in thick curls and gave contrast to her light skin. A
silver ribbon tied her hair back, away from her face. La’ard had
once claimed his daughter fairest in the land, but not anymore. No
one but Master Kreitan and a few spooks knew about his daughter’s
condition. Of course there were a few servants who had learned her
secret, but they never lasted long after finding out.

The woman turned to look at her father. He
jumped back stunned. La’ard never got used to the eyes. Instead of
the soft azure eyes Euphoria had been born with, black coal pits
looked back at him. They were windows to a tainted soul. They
resonated evil that invited him into a hell that haunted his
dreams.

I see that my eyes still frighten you,
Father
. Euphoria ended with a chuckle. La’ard scowled, shaking
away his terror.

“I am not your father, you beast!” Anger
soared through him, urging him to strike out—but the king resisted,
fearful of the consequences.

Tsk, tsk. But I have grown fond of you
since my arrival. Do I not look like sweet Euphoria
. She waved
a hand in front of her face.

“You know why I have come here, so stop these
foolish games!” La’ard paced, not wanting to look at the creature
that possessed his daughter.

Ahh, but you bring no gift for me. No shard
to complete the mirror. Not even sustenance for these weary
bones.

La’ard dared to stand with his back to her.
Grief and anger rolled together as his skin chilled. A sob rose in
his throat, which he quickly tried to contain. “I will bring you
‘food’ later. I was…closer today. Soon I’ll have the shard…I
think.”

The defeated man took a deep breath. Slowly
he turned, trying not to look at the thing in the chair. La’ard
steeled himself and then commanded. “Now, show me my daughter.”

He focused on the fire, waiting for the
thing’s hateful reply, but La’ard’s defenses shattered when he
heard the next word.

“Daddy?”

The sound came not from the thing in the
chair, but from behind him, from the mirror. La’ard turned quickly,
tears cresting his eyes.

The mirror’s surface now glowed, and a form
took shape. An exact copy of the woman who sat in the chair, but
the eyes were not evil black things. The real Euphoria looked out
at her father with cobalt eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek.

La’ard stumbled, running to the mirror,
hungry eyes ready to drink in the vision of his daughter.

He so wanted to reach out, hug his child,
even grasp the mirror, but he knew the wraith would not allow it.
If he touched the surface, even a simple caress, the vision would
disappear, be lost among the dark surface’s swirling mist.

“When can I come home?” A question she often
asked him, and every time it was a stone upon his heart.

“Soon, dear, really soon.” His head sank
down. He didn’t want to see her disappointment. “Euphoria…soon.”
When he looked up, she was gone. He realized his hand had
accidentally touched the side of the mirror.

“Bring her back! I didn’t mean to touch it!”
La’ard shouted. His head swiveled, hoping the creature in the chair
would grant his request, but the mirror remained its normal shade.
“I told you I would get what you needed! Now bring her back!
Please…” His cries died off. His heart gave up hope. Defeat
swallowed the royal man.

Tut, tut. No touching. Maybe tomorrow I
will let her be just a little longer…if you behave yourself.
The figure in the chair cackled this time and his sadness spiked
with agitation. The thing held all the cards and all he could do
was play the game as it dictated.

He glanced back at the mirror one more time,
longing, willing an image to come. Eventually, his hope
disappeared.

Slowly, he made his way to the door, opened
it, and stepped into the corridor. A female servant came down the
hall toward him. The king stopped her and gestured at the door.
“Tend to Princess Euphoria,” he said to the lady-in-waiting. The
door closed behind her.

La’ard had no idea what the creature did with
each servant, and he really did not want to know. He knew he’d find
only a pile of clothes in the morning. Nothing else.

The king retreated into the darkness for a
long lonely night.

***

The low mournful chime of bells rang through
the morning air. A slow, sad mournful cry echoed in the sky,
tolling for the dead. No one he knew had died, or at least no one
important enough to announce it to the world.

Kreitan walked briskly through the street,
not catching anyone’s eye. Those who knew the man, all looked away
from him, scurrying in the opposite direction. Well-known
throughout the land were the terrors Kreitan’s men could bring upon
people. The captain held an even darker reputation.

Mourning bells continued to ring as he
entered the cathedral. This massive church was a sanctuary, a safe
haven—despite the tourists and pilgrims flocked there hoping for
some kind of resolve, clue, or blessing. Kreitan couldn’t care less
what others thought of the place. For him, it was just a meeting
place for his ‘business associate.’

His boots hissed and clicked on the stone
floor. Echoes of the noise quickly reached all the pious gathered
there. Most scuttled into dark corners. Kreitan sniggered. He loved
it when the fearful fled, the nobodies cowered, and the bravest
bowed as he passed. Kreitan did not concern himself with any of the
riff raff. He had a mission.

The confessional sat off to the side of the
main row of pews. Two doors opened outward in the front of the
square, closet-like box. He chose the right one, and swung it
open.

A trembling priest sat there in a chair.
Master Kreitan reached in, plucked the holy man up, and threw him
into the nearest pew. “Time’s up, padre. This box is reserved. Come
back later.” Inside, the captain seated himself and pulled the door
closed.

It was a dimly lit confessional, Kreitan
thought, to purposely impart a sense of guilt and shame, but also
one of secrecy. A square metal crisscrossing grate separated one
side from another. When kneeling penitently on the other side,
one’s face would be level with the priest’s face as he sat in his
chair. A sheer black curtain helped provide anonymity, so neither
side could see each other’s face, only make out shapes and shadows.
It was the perfect place for telling sins, planning abductions,
contracting assassinations.