Kara

by Scott J. Kramer

  “Complications?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “So, I gather you were not able to retrieve what I sent you for.” La’ard began walking again. Kreitan followed suit.

  “No, sire.”

  “Was the item even there?”

  “Unknown, sire.”

  La’ard pursed his lips and lapsed into silence. The two men entered a hallway corridor, where a servant quickly skittered out of their path.

  “But I trust the baker and his family were brought in for further scrutiny?”

  “The baker was, but the wife and daughter were not.”

  La’ard stopped and looked back at Kreitan. “Escaped?”

  “The daughter…yes. The wife did not…escape.” A small smile cracked the captain’s face. Kreitan only found pleasure in the death and misery of others.

  “I see.” The king paused. “What should our next actions be, Kreitan?”

  “I believe the girl knows something.”

  “Continue.”

  “She ran.”

  La’ard looked at the man. “Of course she ran. Your Witch Guard are feared throughout the land. I’m sure Euphoria would….”

  The king caught his words and paused a moment.

  Kreitan waited. He knew the king’s weakness was his precious daughter. It was the reason for all the ‘chores’ Kreitan had to do. He decided to provide a little more unasked detail to hide his delight.

  “When using the daughter as leverage, the baker cracked even more so than when using his wife. When he found out she escaped, he clammed up.”

  La’ard continued down the hall. Kreitan had to take a hurried step to catch up. “The bond between father and daughter is a strong one, more so than wife and husband. Of course, he would crack more when the child was threatened.”

  “The girl also escaped from three of my Witch Guard with help from a Mordock.”

  The king stopped in his steps and swiftly turned. “A Mordock? Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I can be from my men’s descriptions. He claimed to be her uncle.”

  La’ard hesitated. “Was this man brought in?”

  Kreitan hesitated a moment, a definite sign of weakness. La’ard would criticize him for this. “The Mordock also escaped. My men claimed magic, but I believe it was a simple smoke bomb that confused them. They have been dealt with.” A slight smile hinted upon his face. La’ard cringed.

  After a moment, captain and king began moving again.

  “Where is the girl now?”

  “She jumped into Kilarne River and was pulled down stream.”

  La’ard cursed under his breath.

  Turning a corner and descending stairs, the castle façade changed—mood, temperature, and light. A smell of defeat hung on the air. At the bottom of the staircase, a door opened.

  Tyr, the chief dungeoner stood on the other side. Tyr was darker than the absence of light and larger than any column of marble used in Euphoria’s room. His hands were two huge boulders themselves that had crushed many a man’s skull. Muscle and flesh that served La’ard.

  “Sire.” Tyr’s deep voice greeted him. La’ard visibly shook each time he heard Tyr’s voice.

  Kreitan watched, apparently amused. La’ard knew he enjoyed Tyr’s demon vocal cords placed in a behemoth of a man. His voice rattled the prisoners to madness and their hearts to despair.

  “Bring me the prisoner.” La’ard commanded.

  Tyr struck the floor twice with his mighty poleaxe. The sound reverberated off the stone walls. Within seconds, a smaller guard appeared at Tyr’s side.

  “Prisoner.”

  The guard wasted no time on his mission. Within a minute, Kara’s father crumpled on the floor before La’ard.

  The baker struggled to look up. Shackles weighed down his arms. His eyes widened as he recognized the king.

  New strength allowed him to scramble forward and reach out for the king’s boots. “Your majesty….please….”

  Tyr raised one foot slightly and stepped down on the baker’s arm. The prisoner howled in pain as a bone snapped.

  “I heard you have not answered my questions satisfactorily. Now, why would you want to make me angry?” La’ard said.

  The sniveling heap of a man looked up again. One eye, half-closed by swelling, and a burn mark on his left cheek marred his face. Life had melted away from the baker, seeped into the walls, and escaped.

  “But…” A raspy whisper through the pain.

  La’ard nodded to Tyr, the slightest of nods. The poleaxe, pole side, smacked the prisoner under the chin, lifting his whole form up off the floor only to fall back again. His face slammed into the hard, stone floor.

  Master Kreitan watched from the side, showing no outward signs of enjoyment.

  “I am a patient man.” La’ard said. “But you are spending that patience quickly. Your daughter will soon be with us. And perhaps your Mordock brother, as well.”

  “What? No.” Even through all the pain and hurt, the concern came through.

  “Then tell me what I want to know. Where is the shard?” The king’s anger reared its ugly head.

  “W-why….”

  La’ard barely heard it. “Why, you ask? You stupid, stupid man!” La’ard turned toward Tyr. “Make the prisoner stand.”

  Roughly, the dungeoner hauled the baker to his feet using one huge hand. Slowly Kirt’s legs firmed enough to hold him upright without support from Tyr.

  The king kept his eyes focused on the prisoner, but held out a hand. “Kreitan, your sword, if you please.”

  Kreitan pulled his sword from its scabbard and handed it to the king.

  La’ard admired the blade, turning it over in his hands. “Your daughter will die today for your stupidity, baker. I am only asking for information about a simple object, yet you refuse to tell me what I want to know. What if I take your precious little girl away from you? Maybe I will bring you her head and see if that….”

  The prisoner lunged at the king. “You wouldn’t dare, you tyrant!”

  Tyr’s strong hand crushed the prisoner’s shoulder. The baker cried out and fell to his knees. The dungeoner coaxed him back to a standing position.

  “I grow weary of your blatant disrespect of your king.” La’ard approached and laid the blade against the baker’s neck and pressed just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. “Last chance.”

  From the left came a squeal of laughter and clanging chains.

  An emaciated man in manacles ran straight at the king. La’ard ducked as a chain whipped by his head. It struck the baker in the forehead, knocking him to the stone floor.

  Tyr’s large black hand shot out and grabbed the escaped prisoner by the face and flung him back against the wall with a crack. The assailant fell to the ground, unmoving.

  The king screamed in anger. “What is the meaning of this? Do you let your prisoners run free?”

  “Sire, Jenkins has an uncanny ability to escape.”

  “Then make sure he doesn’t do so again!” La’ard turned away from Tyr and saw the baker was out cold. He bent down, grabbed the prisoner by his hair, and shook him. “Where is it? I was not going to kill you today! Where is it?” La’ard shook him again, but there was no response.

  He shoved the prisoner away and glared down at the unconscious man.

  “I tire of this charade, Master Kreitan. We were close this time. Very close.”

  Kreitan did not say anything, but kept his eyes locked on La’ard’s. The king looked away first.

  “The girl, then?” Kreitan’s voice held but a simple twinge of delight. Delight for the future prospect of telling the girl that her father was imprisoned, probably.

  La’ard rubbed at his temples and then ran his hand through his hair. “Do you think she knows something?”

  “She did run.”

  “That does not mean she has the shard. Like I told you before, you do tend to scare children with your tactics. Roughing up their parents isn’t a suitable way for say
ing hello.”

  The king turned to Tyr. “Take the baker away. Lock him in a cell with that thing.” La’ard gestured to the slumped form of Jenkins. Tyr barely nodded. “Oh, and next time I visit, please make sure the guests are properly restrained.” A weak smile graced the king’s face before he turned to Kreitan. “Bring me the shard.” La’ard whispered. “Do it quickly, Kreitan. I don’t know how much time she has left.”

  La’ard proceeded up the stone steps slowly, wearily. So much at stake. He slowly turned to look at his underling. Kreitan rubbed his hands together. Something about that worried the king.

  Guards unceremoniously dragged the baker away. A trail of sweat, grime and even a little blood marked the path. In the corner, a rat scurried by. Kreitan bent down and snatched it by the tail. It squeaked a horrible sound as it fought to be free of the hands. Kreitan caressed it.

  A shudder passed through La’ard as he watched the scene. Doubt crept into his mind about the captain’s involvement.

  “Take care of my prisoner.”

  Master Kreitan turned and casually tossed the animal over his shoulder. The rat hit the stone floor. Its feet found purchase and it darted away.

  Chapter Three

  Hambone trudged up the hidden pathway to his quaint, little house carrying the sodden human over his shoulder as easily as if she was a sack of potatoes. With one hand he pushed aside the weeping willow branches that concealed the front door, pulled a huge iron key from his right pocket, and unlocked the door. He grabbed a voluminous wool blanket off his bed, flipped it open onto his easy chair, and laid the girl across it. He swaddled the cover around her, making her look like an overgrown sheep in need of shearing. Kara slept while he busied himself by the fire, heating a pot of water for soup.

  Since this was the first human he’d ever seen, Hambone kept looking back at her. Her appearance was fascinating, and he couldn’t wait until she woke up so they could talk more.

  “Ahhh!”

  Hambone jumped at the sound of the human’s scream. The girl flailed about in the chair trying to free her arms from the confining blanket.

  Hambone rushed to the chair. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re safe here.”

  “Ahh!” she cried out again. She worked her arms free and slapped at him.

  Hambone drew back, realizing he scared her. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “W-what…and where?” Her head swiveled as much as it could, looking up at all the pipes running along the ceiling.

  “I brought you home.” Hambone looked down at her. He smiled real big. His oversized teeth gleamed in the sunlight. “I’m making soup.”

  Panic showed in her eyes. She struggled against the blanket, but only managed to roll out of the chair onto the floor. Hambone picked her up and set her safely in the chair.

  She threw her arms up in front of her face. “Please d-don’t eat me!”

  “Eat you?” He laughed heartily. “No, I’m making soup for you to eat.” Hambone loosened the blanket and then walked back over to the caldron of bubbling broth.

  ***

  Kara watched the creature called Hambone intently, not sure if she really believed him. He seemed to be making soup. In went a variety of vegetables and herbs, each making a plopping sound that made her shudder. Was this her meal or his meal?

  “Were you out for a swim? The river can be pretty intense.”

  “Wha…no…I was…” And that was when a flood of memories came pouring back. The Witch Guard torturing her father, Birch kicked by a soldier. What had happened to them?

  A tear slipped from her eye as she stared blankly into the wool.

  “Are the onions making you cry? I guess I’ve just got use to them. I will try to hurry.” Hambone fanned the air. Kara swiftly took care of the tear, not wanting to correct him. She chased away her memories and steeled her heart. Now was a time to be strong. Especially if she was in danger.

  “It smells good.” The words helped lock her emotions away. They also made her stomach realize it was hungry. A grumbling noise came from underneath the blanket.

  Hambone stirred the pot; his huge form crouched down by the fire. “If I had made it to market, I would have had more to give you to eat.”

  The spell of the soup’s scent captured her again. Time stood still for her, as pleasant thoughts and colors flashed in her mind.

  “Um…Miss Kara?” Hambone nudged her. He held out a huge bowl of steaming soup to her.

  “T-thank you, Mr. Hambone.” The dish was warm in her hands. Hambone sat across from her, his huge form engulfing a stool that looked to be a slice of tree trunk. He began eating immediately.

  She decided to do the same, but didn’t get past the first glance.

  Kara just gazed down at the soup. Her mouth fell open in awe.

  The soup swirled an enchanting blue hue that of pre-twilight. It shimmered as the sunlight danced over the surface. Every ripple caused by her spoon made a new shade of the mesmerizing color.

  Her nose again picked up the aroma and the daydream state returned. She slowly stirred the soup staring intently. Kara never remembered anything ever being so beautiful before.

  Several slurps later, Hambone noticed Kara. “Is this your first time having Fedashala?”

  Kara barely heard the creature speak to her, but his voice did break some of the enchantment. She willed herself to look away from the soup to answer.

  “P-pardon?”

  “Fedashala? It is a fairy-elf traditional celebration dish.”

  “Um…I’ve never had or seen anything…” And her eyes were drifting back to the colors.

  “The elves make it for almost any kind of get-together. Ra’na taught me how to make it. Non-magical version, of course.” He went back to slurping.

  She barely grasped half of what he told her. The soup was calling to her again.

  “Take a sip first or you will be staring at it all day,” he advised. The words registered, but she drifted back into bliss.

  Kara closed her eyes and took a spoonful. The liquid ignited a warmth like that of a summer fire. It spread through her whole body. Sliding down her throat, the soup’s aromas now became flavors that all blended together in harmony. It felt like hours passed with that one spoonful. She let out a sigh and slowly opened her eyes. Hambone stared at her with a large grin.

  “A newbie to elf-fairy food. And this isn’t even the magical kind.” He let loose with a laugh that shook a small table nearby. Then he grabbed his bowl and drank the last of his broth. Kara stared at him, confused, warm, delighted, and hungry.

  When she looked at her soup again, the mystical color was gone. She dipped her spoon in, trying to recreate it with ripples, but it stayed a dark blue color. It still looked pretty, but nothing like that first glimpse.

  Cautiously, she brought the spoon up and into her awaiting mouth. It still tasted good, but it did not send shockwaves through her system.

  Hambone noticed her disappointment. “Non-magical. It looks marvelous and tastes great, but that is only the first spoonful. Don’t get me wrong, it is still good. But not as much as that first bit.”

  Kara had to agree with him, and she soon finished. She chose not to slurp the rest.

  Kara placed her spoon in her bowl and raised her eyes. Hambone had done the same and awkwardly they stared at one another. Hambone rubbed his stomach as if it were a dog. Kara eyed her bowl nervously, wanting something to break the awkwardness. She chose to say the first thing that came into her mind.

  “Who’s Ra’na?”

  “W-what? Oh, the one who taught me the soup recipe. She’s just an elf friend.”

  “A real elf?”

  “Are there any other kind?”

  “I’ve just never seen an elf before.”

  “You’re kidding. At your age, I thought you would have seen plenty of them.”

  “At my age? What are you talking about?”

  “Well, aren’t you like sixty or something? By then, most hu
mans have seen the world. Or so I have heard.”

  Kara laughed. “Sixty? I’m only twelve.”

  Hambone looked shocked. “I thought humans shrank with age.”

  “No, where did you come up with that? I’m just a kid. How old are you?”

  Hambone thought a moment and then just shrugged. Kara looked confused and then laughed.

  “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

  They both enjoyed a laugh with that. But soon, silence fell again. With the soup gone, there was nothing to do but feel awkward.

  “Do you feel safe now?”

  “What?” The question took her by surprise.

  “You were pretty shook up at the river. Something about the Witch Guard.”

  The name brought the whole ordeal upon her. Inside, the emotions burst forth. Her home burning, her father being tortured, her mother nowhere in sight.

  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.