Kara

by Scott J. Kramer

  Kara

  by Scott J. Kramer

  A Territories Novel

  Kara

  By Scott J. Kramer

  Copyright 2016 by Scott J. Kramer

  Smashwords Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  Prizm Book and Imprint of Torquere Press Publishers

  P.O. Box 37, Waldo, AR 71770

  Kara by Scott J. Kramer Copyright 2016

  Editor, Deelylah Mullin

  Cover by Kris Norris

  Published with permission

  www.torquerepress.com

  ISBN: 978-1-944449-43-8

  All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press, LLC, P.O. Box 37, Waldo, AR 71770

  First Torquere Press Printing: March 2016

  Dedication

  To Amanda, my beautiful wife. Without her, I would be adrift at sea. She keeps me grounded and pointed in the direction of success.

  Kara

  by Scott J. Kramer

  Twelve year old Kara is on the run from King La’ard, but she doesn’t know why. Something is after her. Becoming trapped in the Territories, where humans are unknown and elves, orcs and dwarves roam the lands, Kara finds comfort with a Dwarc named Hambone, Dante the werefox, and Grace the sprite. In her effort to get back to the human land of Faldoa, she finds the assistance of a reluctant wizard and becomes the prey of an assassin elf. Kara must find a way back to Faldoa and then also deal with the evil thing stalking her.

  Acknowledgements

  To my first editor of Kara, Karen ‘The Hammer’ Block. She taught this teacher a thing or two about writing. With her tough love, I bring you a tale worthy to read.

  To my second editor of Kara, Deelyah Mullin. She has saved me from people criticizing me because of the mistakes in the text. ‘You’re an English teacher after all.’ Thank you

  To my beta readers:

  Maria Ramsey—”No, I don’t have any more pages for you to read!”

  Carolyn Kesterman—Watch for her to be famous one day.

  Julie Ahrnsen—Gave me my first negative review. Thank you.

  Rachel High—Inspired many a character (and many a gray hair).

  Cole Berger—Man of few spoken words. Written too.

  Audrey Webster—”Do I have all my books back yet?”

  Lydia Trentman—Had a comment about every page.

  Hailey French—Often overlooked.

  Kelli Fleisch, Joanna Sonderman, Vickie Sonderman,

  and Jennie Turner-Collins—Thank you, all.

  To all my students: The words I write are for you. Read, and continue to read. (At least, make your reading teachers happy.)

  Prologue

  The thing before him was no longer his wife, his beautiful Rose. It was pure evil, a wraith older than time, and begging to be let out of its cage. But inside her—it—a demon lurked, hate-filled, malicious, and ready to seize that one chance to be set free.

  And now he had only one shot at capturing it for all time. Through all his research and studies and trips into the abyss of magic, he had only come up with this one solution. The mirror, an everlasting prison perhaps for the vile thing. Everything had gone into the mirror’s creation, including blood from himself. This had to be the be-all end-all.

  You’ve come to try and best me again, Guillaud. Foolish mortal. Come…come into my arms and give your sweet love a kiss. The wraith cackled. The sound was hideous, like that of a thousand rats squealing in delight as they feasted on the rotting carcass of a bloated dog.

  His brain swam with the visual, but he shook it away. He needed to remain focused. There was a ritual that needed to be followed exactly. One wrong word and all his planning would be for naught.

  The wizard pressed his hands together as if in prayer and cleared his mind of all chaos. The thing in the cage watched him intently. He knew it was hungry. He had starved it, making it weak enough for this containment spell to work. Now it wanted to feed. But one touch and he was doomed. It would feed on him, sucking his body dry.

  He slid the mirror closer to the cage. It stood tall, almost cresting him. The frame was made of dark, soul-less crystal. Intricately carved throughout the rock were forgotten spells and runes, symbols of old. Such a feat to manufacture the thing, this mirror nearly cost him everything. Gold. Strength. Willpower. Every day he doubted himself. Was this the right course? Could he restore Rose by entrapping the wraith? In the end, would all the effort be worth it?

  Beautiful. But what’s a silly mirror to me? Just reach out and grasp my hand. Please, Guillaud. I long to touch you. To touch you again after all these years. That is what I need.

  Her voice enticed him. Several times before he’d felt the need, the desire to reach out and touch her, but he had always resisted. To touch her was to die. This was not his sweet Rose, but a demon.

  He began to chant the spell and manipulated his hands in intricate patterns. His senses focused inward, blocking out all distractions.

  An unnatural silence spread through the chamber when the spell completed. A rush of wind rippled the torches upon the wall. The mirror glowed with a slow, pulsing blue light. In the cage, the creature stared at the object. Its mouth hung open, making its appearance look even more ghoulish. Guillaud suppressed a shudder.

  Mine…mine…, the wraith cooed. It reached toward the pulsating surface.

  The wizard brought the mirror closer. He was ready for this nightmare to be over. A touch, a single touch from the creature on the mirror would seal the spell. His eyes concentrated on the wraith’s hand as it wavered near the mirror.

  “Come on…come on,” he murmured.

  Fool! The talon whipped sideways and seized his arm.

  Pain burst through him. Knife, fire, stinging, electric shock! Lightning bolt agony screamed from every fiber of his being. He released his hold on the mirror and it toppled to the floor. His ears rang with the demon’s cackles and his arm pulsed. He felt his life’s energy surge from his body as the creature began to feast.

  Guillaud thrashed and flailed against the cage but the wraith’s grip was too strong. He could not pull loose. The demon’s grasp held strong like iron. The more he pulled away, the more burning, flesh-searing pain came. He had to break free. It could not end with him being eaten by this monster. And the demon was too hungry to savor this meal.

  There had to be another way to save himself and Rose. He glanced at the mirror lying on the floor. Salvation was so near but the wraith had to touch it. He needed to bring the mirror closer.

  He strained toward the mirror and hooked the edge with his foot. He inched the object nearer until he could reach it with his free hand. He lifted one edge and pressed it to the wraith’s palm.

  Contact made, the spell was sealed. No big explosion or spark erupted. The only change was the thing’s laughter. Cackling changed to screaming.

  And then, silence.

  Inside the cage, the body dropped. The fist, once tightly gripping the wizard, went limp.

  Guillaud stumbled, leaning against the bars of the cage to steady himself before he collapsed as well.

  He turned to look at the mirror. Did the spell really work? Was the creature trapped? The dark, reflective surface lured him in. Did he dare touch it?

  His left hand flopped loosely at his side. He shoved his sleeve up and looked at what remained of his arm. Just skin covering the bones. All the flesh had been…sucked away.<
br />
  Rose! He had forgotten about her.

  His eyes flicked to the cage, his hand, the mirror forgotten. He sank down to his knees and cradled his wife’s head. Rose lay on the floor, unmoving. Dead.

  No! Rose’s death had not been his intention.

  His cry of pain rattled the cavern.

  Chapter One

  “Run, Kara, run!”

  Kara’s head snapped up at the faint sound of her father’s voice. “Daddy?” Why would her father be telling her to run away? What was going on? She’d only come up to her favorite spot on the top of the hill an hour ago to play with her dog, Birch, when she finished her chores. Everything had been fine at home then.

  She pushed Birch off her lap and rolled onto her knees. She shaded her eyes with her right hand and looked towards her home a quarter mile away. Black smoke filled the sky, not the smoke of burning trash, but that of something large ablaze.

  Birch nipped at her hand, trying to get Kara’s attention. She flapped her hand at him. “Get down, Birch. I don’t have time to play with you. We need to get home right away. Something’s wrong there.”

  “Kara!”

  Quickly getting to her feet, she began to run through the meadow.

  Birch growled at her heels, trying to play. The stick in his mouth poked at her ankles as he worked to gain her attention. He became a nuisance the farther they went.

  “Birch!”

  One word and the dog obeyed. This was not a game. He dropped the stick and trotted alongside her.

  A tree topped the final hill. As she crested the rise, the house came into full view. Kara bent low, recovering her breath.

  Kara straightened, mouth open, gazing at the horrific scene before her. Orange flames wrapped the house and a swirl of rising black smoke billowed from every window. What was going on? Why was her home on fire?

  Mother! Father! Where were they? Tongues of fire lapped among the smoke, but no one appeared in the windows.

  A strong urge to run toward the conflagration swept over her. Her mind raced with questions, eyes stared transfixed at the dancing demons of fire. But the memory of her father screaming at her to run played again in her memory and kept Kara rooted in place.

  The sound of a horse’s whinny broke her stare. She saw, to the side of the burning house watching from a safe distance, three men dressed in silver and violet livery and holding the reins of several horses. Two similarly dressed figures held a third man between them. This man was on his knees, head pulled back, forced to watch the inferno. Another man, dressed similar to the riders, paced before the prisoner.

  Witch Guard!

  Why are King La’ard’s men at my home? And who… but before her mind could complete the thought, she recognized the kneeling man.

  Her heart seemed to stop.

  “Father!”

  ***

  “Patience is not a virtue I possess, baker Kirt. King La’ard has instructed me to retrieve the piece of broken mirror you stole.” Master Kreitan paced, his dark armor clinging to him as if it were his soul. Hissss… Hissss… His boots singed the grass as he walked, leaving faint burn marks in his wake.

  Kreitan sneered in disgust. Captain of the Witch Guard, and he was running a pathetic errand for the king again. Whatever this shard of mirror was, it certainly seemed important to the king. Perhaps he could turn finding it to his advantage.

  “I-I don’t…” Kara’s father stammered.

  Kreitan grabbed the front of the baker’s tunic. “You’ve lost your precious house. Soon it will be embers. Tell me where the shard of mirror is or you will lose more than just your home.”

  “But….”

  “I’ll accept no excuses.” The dark man shoved Kara’s father to the ground. “A house, old man, something you could rebuild, replace. I thought that would be enough for you to start telling me what I want to know.” He paced again in front of the prisoner. Hissss…Hissss….

  Kreitan pointed to the house. “Your precious wife could still be saved.”

  The man on the ground began to cry.

  “Your only answer to that is to weep like an infant?” Boumpf! The dark man viciously kicked out, knocking Kara’s father to the ground. Hissss… Kirt’s tunic smoldered with a boot print.

  “And still you refuse. A tiny bit of information. That’s all I need. Or do we need to wait until your precious daughter comes running home? She should be here any minute. Maybe you’ll talk then. “

  Kreitan’s hand patted his mahogany box, tucked away in a pouch. A useful tool in interrogations like this.

  “You…stay away from her!” The baker fought to free himself from his restrainers. They tightened their hold on his arms.

  Kreitan stared down at the defiant man. “That is no way to talk to a man such as me,” he said. “Don’t you know how dangerous I am?”

  He kicked the baker in the side again, letting his disgust drive the boot in deeper.

  Suddenly, he felt eyes upon him. Someone watched. Someone nearby. The dark man stopped, turned, and looked out to the hills. His dark eyes caught sight of a little girl on a small hill, clutching a tree not a hundred yards away. The wind tugged at her auburn hair, which danced at her shoulders. A small animal pranced about the hem of her skirt.

  “Ahh, the child comes.” His voice dripped with hungry satisfaction.

  Kreitan opened his box carefully, keeping his eyes glued upon the girl.

  “Taylon,” Kreitan summoned his second-in-command. “Fetch me that child. I believe she may prove useful in making this traitor speak.”

  ***

  Kara remained glued to the tree.

  Her whole world froze and time seemed to slow. The dark man looked at her. His eyes were full of shadows, yet a ring of silver lined them.

  Inside her head, a voice beckoned her. Come.

  Not a harsh or venomous command, but rather the tone coaxed, soothed, numbed.

  Birch barked.

  For a moment, confusion blinded all her efforts to do anything. Her body leaned forward to save her father. Her grasp loosened on the tree. Thoughts whirled in her head causing almost dizziness. Her father needed her, but he had told her run. What should I do?

  Birch barked again and tugged at her skirt. She looked down at her dog, breaking eye contact with the dark man. Immediately, her mind cleared. She looked up again at the chaos in front of her burning home. She saw three horsemen swing up into their saddles and turn the horses toward her. It took her only a moment to realize the dark man had directed his riders to capture her. Kara turned and ran.

  Her dress flapped at her calves and snagged on low-hanging branches, slowing her down. She ran without a clue where to go. Should she go to the meadow? Or farther down the path? Maybe she could hide in a bramble thicket. But surely, wherever she went, the horsemen would find her. No, her best chance was reaching the river at the end of the meadow. Maybe someone would be fishing there, someone who could hide her, save her from the king’s men.

  She heard hoof beats behind her, eating up the distance between them. Her heart beat faster, pounding in her chest. This was the fastest she had ever run. Would it be fast enough?

  How far away were they? Birch ran at her heels, which could mean the men were not close enough to bark at. Kara dared not give into the temptation to glance back. Her legs pumped, muscles starting to ache with the strain.

  “Halt!” A distant command shattered her hope of escape. The word sent ripples of fear through her. They were going to catch her.

  Kara reached the meadow where she witnessed the smoke. So much of her body wanted to stop, to rest a moment, but she willed—prayed—that it would keep going.

  Hoof beats shook the air and panic rushed through her, a cold shiver disorienting her train of thought. What if the horses trample me?

  Birch barked once. It was enough for Kara to regain control.

  The river was just a short distance farther. Just a few more steps and she would be….

  Suddenly, Kara crashed t
o the hard ground. Pain ripped through her ankle. A rock had snagged her left foot. Her knee collided with another stony patch and tore the skin away. She bit her lip and suppressed a sob, curling up with the pain.

  Her mind screamed Get up!

  Birch echoed the cry dancing back and forth around her barking. Through her tears, she risked a glance over her shoulder. The horses were quickly coming upon her.

  “Girl! Halt!”

  She felt the earth vibrate with each hoof beat. Kara struggled to her feet. Pain radiated from her scuffed knee. There was no time to tend to it. Her eyes flicked to the distant edge of the meadow as she started to run. Where were all the fishermen? Somebody had to be here.

  Keep going. Just a little farther….

  The riverbank came into view through a fringe of trees.

  Now what?

  And the horses were upon her.

  A hand seized the back of her dress, but didn’t get a firm grasp. She fell forward. Her injured knee buckled.

  Horses passed her as she fell. Kara’s arms came up to protect her head, expecting a hoof to kick her. She bounced on the solid ground, which rumbled as the soldiers slowed their horses.

  Birch barked madly from somewhere near her head. A horse whinnied shrilly. When Kara looked up, she quickly shut her eyes again. The scared horse had risen up on two legs, kicking out in the air.

  She pulled her body in tight, waiting for the crushing blow. There was a massive thump, but Kara felt no pain.

  Birch growled, and she felt him run off.

  A soldier shouted angry words as he quickly recovered from his fall. Birch ran at the man, barking viciously. But the soldier did not look frightened. His look told of something else on his mind. Revenge.