Kara (9 page)

In one corner weapons, armor, and the like
hung on the wall, freshly polished, ready for battle. An ancient
oak chest stood hidden deep in a corner opposite the weapons. This
huge chest, easily the size of seven men, remained deep in the
shadows even with a torch blazing nearby. Crafted of iron and wood,
a large key lock held the lid closed. Several men approached the
mysterious chest, yet few gained the nerve to enter the darkness
surrounding it.

La’ard forbade anyone to touch a thing.
“There’s still magic here,” he said.

Farther along the wall from the chest, a
cabinet made of crystal twinkled. Inside were several items,
ranging from a rectangular mahogany box, a chalice made out of
black rock, a yellow-stoned ring, and a bat-shaped pendant.

“Who did this room belong to?” La’ard
whispered.

“One of the ancients, or so the spooks say.
They are attempting to decipher the runes for clues,” Kreitan said.
He took particular interest in the enclosure.

In the corner opposite the cabinet, stood a
mirror. This mirror captured La’ard’s interest, passion, and greed,
igniting them as soon as his eyes fell upon it. Thoughts of magic
and enchantment left him. Kreitan watched with interest, but dared
not speak a word when the royal hand touched its surface. Nothing
happened, but the king’s second hand reached up to grab hold of the
mirror.

“This is exquisite!” La’ard’s voice was
breathless He gazed into the onyx surface. His men watched, their
own greed piqued by the king’s lustful tones. La’ard sensed their
jealously, their wanting. “I want the Witch Guard out!” he shouted.
“Master Kreitan, see to it that your men remain guard outside. The
spooks and you can stay.” The king did not move much from his spot
in front of the mirror while Kreitan ordered his men out of the
tomb.

Kreitan and the spooks inspected the whole
tomb while La’ard remained in front of the mirror.

Several minutes later, Kreitan approached the
king. “Sire, the spooks have decoded some of the runes here upon
the wall.”

“Yes?” La’ard said with indifference.

Kreitan unfolded a sheet of paper a spook had
handed him and read, “Beware these possessions, for in possessing
them, one may be possessed himself.”

“Rubbish! Utter nonsense.”

Words that in time, La’ard would deeply
regret.

“We also found another door, possibly leading
to a burial chamber.” Kreitan said. He pointed to the left of the
throne. Faintly carved into the wall, La’ard could see the outline
of a door.

“Good, good.” For La’ard had no idea what
Kreitan said. He was lost in his own image. “Have your men take
this mirror to the palace, but take care. I do not want it
damaged.”

Back at the palace, the looking glass stood
in the courtroom at first, but soon La’ard became anxious and
nervous about the object. His fears of magic began creeping back.
Often, when he was not staring at the fractured surface, he had the
uneasy feeling of eyes upon him. Paranoia often made him glance
toward it, expecting something other than his reflection would be
smiling back.

Euphoria instantly fell in love with it.
“Daddy, what a beautiful mirror! Where did you get it?” La’ard’s
apprehension of the piece abated, replaced by the joy and happiness
that he had pleased his daughter. It infused his own soul with
ignorance. He granted her the mirror and ordered it taken to her
room.

For much of the next few weeks, Euphoria
rarely saw others. At first La’ard hardly noticed the princess was
absent since there were other matters of the kingdom that occupied
him. But soon, he observed something was the matter with her. Her
manner used to be sweet, innocent, and very kind. Now she was
snippy and nervous. In the past, Euphoria had always prided herself
on her appearance. Now she wasn’t taking care of herself, often
leaving her hair unbrushed and her dresses wrinkled or askew.

One night a servant came knocking at his
chambers. “Sire! Come quick! The princess!” The man’s voice and
hands were shaking.

Fear gripped the king’s heart with those
words. His mind knew something horrible had befallen his daughter.
He rushed to her chambers.

Euphoria lay unresponsive on the floor, like
a crumpled child’s doll. The mirror was broken, a crystal tiara
that belonged to the princess among the pieces.

They called in physikers. “Not dead,” the
head physiker decreed.

La’ard covered his face in his hands
recalling those first few weeks. By her side every minute, wanting
something other than ‘not dead.’ They summoned spooks, strange
medicine men from the east consulted, even the priests of the high
church, yet no one had an answer for the king.

Then one evening, a guttural sound came from
his daughters lips.
Hello,
the voice said.

La’ard raised his head, hope gleaming in his
eyes. But he soon found out about the creature that inhabited
Euphoria. He also learned to hate the thing.

Twelve days ago, the creature made a
suspicious offer.
Hope for her yet, my dear king. Make the
mirror whole and set Euphoria free.

When La’ard tried to learn more, the creature
only taunted him and laughed. Desperation set in and La’ard
commanded his servants to reassemble the mirror.

Thrown out when the servants cleaned the room
after the incident, the pieces slowly resurfaced. Bit by bit, the
mirror became whole. Some pieces appeared quickly, while others
required more time to track. Eventually, all were found except a
large shard. None of the servants remembered seeing it when they
were tending to the princess’s room.

An off-hand comment from a passing cook made
a castle guard bring up the name of Cehwalie. Interviewed
earlier—on the night after the incident—but promptly forgotten.

Kreitan came down hard on the cook. La’ard
sat in on the interview, his pulse quickening, knowing his
daughter’s freedom might be close at hand. That had been two days
ago, and the mirror was still incomplete.

Argh!
It made him feel incompetent. A
king with all this power, this rule, and he could not save his only
daughter. If his father, Longshanks, had still been around, this
nightmare would have been even worse.

“Not much of king…one that would let his own
daughter…under his own roof….” La’ard banged his fist against the
throne to drive out the imagined words of his dearly departed
father.

He rested his forehead in his hands, his
elbows on his knees. His father would disapprove of his posture.
Not a proper pose for any king to be seen in
. But he cared
not. Who would see him? Nobles did not come to visit much anymore.
His temper proved to be too swift and harsh these days. Many went
away stripped of their titles and few just went away, never to be
seen again.

The land did not consider him a benevolent
king, even before the mirror came to the palace. Sure, he had
conquered Ustonia, which then brought the rich ore into the city.
Nobles cheered that day, even though many of the Ustonians found
themselves put to death, slaughtered by sword or axe. La’ard’s army
pillaged on orders from the king and they had taken full advantage
of that order.

Now La’ard sat alone, his daughter possessed
because of his greed. He strived no longer to be a great ruler,
just one who had a living daughter.

Chapter Seven

“Shouldn’t they be here by now, Grace?”
Hambone surveyed the passing crowd. Worry was obvious in his
voice.

The green sprite flew higher for a moment.
She quickly descended and chirped a resounding no.

Then an idea struck Hambone. His face became
grim. “He didn’t go where I think he went, did he?”

Grace twittered, even flashed a brief red
color.

“You’ll be mad? How about me? I was the one
who brought Kara into this mess.” Hambone pushed out into the sea
of market goers. “Come on.” With each hurried step, a mixture of
emotions pounded together inside the dwarc. There were slave
traders lurking here. Hambone heard terrible tales about them. If
Dante had put Kara in danger, he’d be sorry.

In minutes, they navigated the labyrinth of
booths and stalls and approached the Nymphs Beauty booth. Sure
enough, Dante ventured out of the booth, smiling broadly.

“Thank you, Lyllianna,” he said

“Dante!”

Hambone’s roar broke the magical aura round
Dante. His face flushed a bright red. “Wha— Hambone!”

“How could you? Where is Kara?”

“Right here.” Dante gestured toward a figure
that stood close to where he’d left Kara. A dwarven woman looked up
at him. Dante recoiled. “Oh, you’re not Kara.”

“And yar ain’t no prince charming neither!”
She stomped on his foot before sulking away.

Dante yowled, and Hambone felt a small smile
surface, but the fact that Kara was missing quickly squashed any
amusement.

“I told her to stay put.” Dante said through
the pain, but his annoyance gave way to the same realization
Hambone did. Kara was missing. “I left her right here.”

“You left her.” Hambone’s tone held rumblings
of anger.

Dante ignored this and began searching the
crowd. “Kara!” he said in a loud whisper. “Kara!” There was no need
to draw too much attention, especially if her illusion wore off. A
human girl at the market place could stir up some trouble.

Schunk!

Dante switched to his fox form and started
down an aisle. Grace hovered above, while Hambone bounded through
the crowd in an opposite direction. They both met back in the
middle. Dante shook his head.

“You fool. She’s only twelve and a human to
boot. There were already people after her.” Hambone continued to
berate the werefox while surveying the crowd. Dante hung his
head.

Grace flew by twittering excitedly.

“What did you find? A glove?” Hambone
followed the sprite up the aisle and to a booth that held tables of
jewelry. Sure enough, on the ground was a riding glove similar to
one Kara had been wearing. The goblin running the booth watched
Hambone as he bent and picked up the glove.

“Excuse me?” Hambone said as he turned toward
the shopkeeper.

“Skrag, at service.”

“Uh, yes. Do you remember a customer of yours
who might have been wearing a shawl around her head and wearing
riding gloves like this one?”

The goblin stared at him, eyes momentarily
wide and then narrowing into a suspicious look. “Many customers
today.” He stood up on a box and picked up a bracelet. “Skrag sell
you something?”

Hambone shook his head. “Um, no.” Hambone
waved away the bracelet. “Are you sure you did not see her? She was
supposed to meet me right here. This is her glove.”

“I sure! No girl!” Skrag’s anger came out
like spit. A second later, he became friendly again. “Bracelet. You
like?”

Grace flew down to the goblin’s eye level.
She twittered her own questions, but it appeared as if Skrag didn’t
know the fairy language.

Hambone sighed, but tried once more. “Did you
see who dropped this?”

He held the glove closer for inspection.
Skrag grabbed it and threw it to the side of the booth.

“No hum…no girl! If no buy, then go!” The
goblin looked like he could turn red any minute. Hambone caught
Skrag’s slip-up and was sure that Skrag remembered Kara. Why else
would he almost say ‘human?’

“Skrag! What seems to be the…Ahhh, we have
company.” A sultry voice containing a note of mocking came from
behind Hambone. Approaching was an elvin woman, almost six feet
tall, with skin was the blue-black color of a midnight sky. Her
silver eyes did a check on Hambone, before turning to Skrag. “Go to
the kettle house to fetch us some food.”

Skrag obeyed without a word or glance at
Hambone.

“Katrena, I didn’t know you had a shop in the
market. How
good
it is to see you.” Hambone tried to find
another word instead of good, but everything else sounded too
nice.

Katrena brushed some of her long black hair
away from her face with a few cougar-clawed fingers. Her hands and
arms, covered with her own wares—bracelets and rings—shone brightly
against her dark skin.

“So what brings you to my booth? A gift for
my sister?”

“Um, no. I was just looking for a friend. But
since your wonderful helper made it clear that he did not see her,
we’ll be going.”

And with that Hambone turned tail. Katrena
was bad news and he did not need her finding out anything about
Kara.

***

Narrowed silver eyes watched the riff-raff
party depart. Oh, how she hated the dwarc. She would love nothing
more than to place a throwing dagger into his back. She resisted
the urge knowing the sour repercussions that it could have. What
her sister ever saw in that thing escaped her.

Katrena despised her twin sister for many
reasons and anyone else she associated with. Ra’na was sweet and
kind, the complete opposite of her. Birds and furry woodland
creatures seemed to follow the elf maiden wherever she went.

Shoving aside her anger for the moment,
Katrena took a moment to look over her jewelry tables. The market
booth was a means to an end. She enjoyed jewelry, even though most
of the pieces here she had not made herself. She acquired some as
payment, some were just…acquired. They were all beautiful and
intriguing. Why have bland merchandise that most customers would
just snub?

Her eyes scanned her wares to see if Skrag
had sold anything. On one of the front tables, Katrena paused at an
empty spot. What had been there? The bat pendant! Had Skrag really
sold that piece? Quickly, she went to the cash drawer, but after
counting the money, it was short what the pendant would’ve fetched.
She counted it again. Still it came up the same.
What was going
on here?

Katrena scanned her other merchandise in case
she’d overlooked something. All seemed to be there, except maybe
for an odd ring or bracelet which could have been bought. But the
bat pendant was not.