Kara (18 page)

“Dante!” But the fox was long gone.

Next to the dwarc sat the raven. “What did
you do that for?” Hambone scolded the bird, who only squawked back
at him. It lifted its leg out to him. Confused at first, he thought
the feathered creature was trying to shake hands. Then he saw a
note tied to its leg. His big fingers had a hard time undoing the
knot and the raven pecked him a few times.

It jabbed him once more when he removed the
note before it flew off in the direction Dante had run. Hambone
watched it go, rubbing his needled hand. The note was folded
crudely, and once opened, Hambone saw one word on it followed by a
single initial.

Church, K
.

Hambone flipped the paper over, looking for
more, but found nothing. Church was mostly a human thing. He had
overheard the term once or twice while eating at the market but
didn’t know much about it. And what was the
K
all about? Was
that something to do with church?

He threw the paper aside and looked toward
where Dante had run. Maybe he should get out of here before Katrena
did show up. She might not be very happy to see that her front door
was open and somebody had read a letter addressed to her.

***

Jesset didn’t recall much of the ride back to
the castle, other than it must have been the rockiest trail in the
kingdom. Every bounce and jolt of the horse sent pain through his
shoulder and back. At times he felt himself start to black out and
then another dip in the road brought his senses to life again.

Throughout the ride, Jesset cursed himself.
He had gotten too comfortable there in Willow Haven, thinking no
one would bother an old Mordock. He also mourned the loss of his
animal friends that had so desperately tried to ward off the
attackers. Maybe if they hadn’t arrived so quickly, he could have
made a clean getaway.

Would they torture him to find out where Kara
was? And why did they want the girl in the first place? Was it
another magical gathering? Weeding out any potential threats to the
crown?

Upon arrival at the castle, they
unceremoniously took him from the horse and made him stand in his
weakened condition. The guards did not make eye contact with him.
Silly fears based on untruths ran rampant about Mordocks. Some
believed that if they caught your eye, a Mordock could hypnotize
instantly. It was a common festival trick or tavern scam mainly
done with someone in on the deal faking hypnotism.

Jesset possessed only his animal skill, but
held his face serious and stern so all the guards would be nervous.
The Witch Guard didn’t seem to hold these same ideas, but every so
often Jesset saw one look away if he stared too long.

They lugged him to the dungeon, his body
fatigued from the loss of blood. Sunlit day vanished into the dark
gloom of the underground prison. Torches illuminated the vault.
Jesset, not lucky enough to be near the source of the light, got a
cell barely lit by the corridor flame.

A little straw littered the floor, mostly
there to suck up the moisture left from the last tenant’s demise.
Thrown in, Jesset landed nose first in some dinner leftovers. They
had probably gone stale and moldy a week ago.

The guards laughed as they slammed the cell
door shut. “Stupid Mordock.”

Very little energy coursed through his
helpless body. His nose screamed for freedom from what smelled like
fetid pig slop. Jesset commanded the arm with the working shoulder
to push against the stone floor.

With a grunt and tremendous effort, the
Mordock rolled to his side. He was unable to stop himself from
rolling on his back. A lump in the floor hit him right in the
wounded shoulder. Tears forced their way out of his eyes, the ones
he had been holding back.

His whimpers were soft, and no one heard his
soft cries over the whip crack and muted screams echoing down the
corridor. Jesset drifted off to sleep listening to the guards
talking and chains rattling.

Fred….

A voice sounded close to his ear. Jesset
stirred. Gradually, his eyes creaked open, only to see gray fur and
a pink tail right in front of him. A rat.

What did I tell you? A smorgasbord
.
Sounds of chewing and gobbling came from in front of him. The rat
tail twitched back and forth.

And if this fellow here dies, we may be
able to get a juicy bit off him before they take him away to the
pile
. The rat in front of him sat up on its haunches, a piece
of the stale bread clutched in its claws.

Jesset tried to speak, to tell the rats he
wasn’t dead but only managed to moan. It was enough to get their
attention. The rat blocking his view jumped and scattered to the
corner.

“Not dead.” Jesset tried again. He willed his
muscles to work. With an agonizing groan of pain, he was able to
sit up.

Oy! He’s speaking our language!
The
rat nearest the bars started to retreat. The other rat had run to a
dark corner of the cell.

I wouldn’t go too near. Might be a ruse.

“No fear. Good. Safe. Mordock.” Jesset’s
words came out in short bursts. It felt as if his left lung had
collapsed.

The rat by the bars came in closer and then
right up to Jesset when it noticed the prisoner’s breathing
problem.
Just slow your air, chap. There’s a nasty wound in your
back that’s probably causing that breathing thing.
This rat
stood up on two legs and put a paw on top of Jesset’s leg.

He took small shallow breaths. It took about
five minutes for him to whisper a thank you to the rat. In that
time, the other one crept out of the darkness, but only enough for
his head to show in the torchlight.

Don’t mention it. Just a little tidbit I
picked up hanging around the physiker’s lab. You can sometimes get
a pretty square meal when they’re doing some operatin’.

“Again. Thank you.” His breath came back to
him slowly, even though his chest and back throbbed. He lifted his
shoulder a couple of inches off the floor. “How bad’s…the
wound.”

The two rats ran underneath him and looked up
at the still oozing hole. .

It looks worse than it probably is. It’s a
good thing you were laying on it, though. Not sure if me an’ Vern
would’ve had the self-control not to take a nip out of all that
yummy blood.

The rat beside him nodded his head in
agreement.

Jesset gave a weak smile, grateful that he
had turned himself over. Rats could be good friends, unless food
was involved. They would rather eat their good friends than let
them waste any of that tasty carrion.

Was this your food we was munching on?

Jesset’s grimaced. He shook his head.

Then you won’t mind if we just continue our
meal while we chat.

The Mordock nodded and Vern and Fred dug in.
There was little talking while the rats chowed down on the moldy
food. Soon the dish was clean and Fred lay on his back rubbing his
belly. Vern belched and let forth a squeak in the process.

Uhhh, I think that last bite might’ve done
me in.
The screams had stopped from down the hall, but Jesset
still heard the guards faintly.

“How many prisoners are down here?”

I don’t rightly know. Vern, what would you
say
—
like twenty? Maybe a couple more.

Vern just nodded.
Not our usual hangout
here. The cellies usually eat up all the food, before we get a
chance to. Unless, of course, they pass away. Plus, most of the
blokes want to try an’ eat us.

Vern nodded again,
Yeah, you’re the first
cellie who’s ever talked to us
.

Well, there was that one chap, with the
crazy eyes. Wanted to sing to us. But then again he also whispered
to the walls. Called one Petunia
. Fred gave out a big
laugh.

“Anyone ever escape from here?” The moment
Jesset asked it, he wished he hadn’t. Mocking animals were always
humiliating.

O ho ho. Got ourselves a bit of a
trickster or magician here. Wanting to pull a bit of the
disappearing act,
Fred teased.

Vern came close to Jesset.
I wouldn’t try.
Many talk of it, but very few succeed. Gotta have keys, and then
there’s the guards down here and the guards in the castle.

Listen to Vern. Sure you can talk to us
and that’s pretty nifty, but how are two rats and an animal talker
going to pull a fast one over on this bunch?
Fred picked at his
teeth, but Vern watched Jesset.

Look at his face. His eyes. He’s
scheming
. Vern exclaimed.

A smile started to spread across Jesset’s
face—a smile that made this whole place bearable.

***

Wordlessly, Kreitan escorted his
second-in-command to a private area where they could not be
overheard. Taylon brought the chest with him.

Taylon put the trunk on a nearby table and
opened it for his captain to see. Kreitan paused, taking the shard
in.

“The king will reward you handsomely for
this.” Kreitan said. He closed the lid and secured it.

“Yes, Captain.” Taylon hesitated for a
moment. “If I may?”

“Proceed.”

“Why all this bother for a piece of glass? I
admit it is very pretty, but a simple shard?”

Kreitan had not informed his second of all
the details. Only he and the king held those cards.

“Royal desires know no bounds. It is a
trivial thing. And the Mordock?”

“Taken to the dungeons. Shall I have him
brought to you for questioning?”

“Leave him for another time. Perhaps he will
be forgotten to rot.” The Mordock was not important, now that
Kreitan had the shard.

“Captain, if I may?” Kreitan motioned with
his hand and Taylon continued. “I lost some good men to this
Mordock. The remaining members would love to exact some vengeance.
Perhaps….”

Kreitan smiled. “Do not kill him. But relieve
that
stress
you built up during your ride.” Kreitan stared
at Taylon to make sure he got his meaning.

“Yes sir.” Taylon exited and the door shut
after him.

Kreitan rested his gloved hands on the chest,
knowing that he held the fate of the king’s daughter in his hands.
La’ard didn’t know of the piece of mirror’s arrival yet. Maybe he
should let him suffer just a—

The door slammed open. Kreitan turned.
The
king!
How had he known Kreitan had possession of the mirror
fragment?

Quickly, the king approached and slapped
Kreitan across the face.

“Where is it?” La’ard gestured to the chest.
“Is it the shard?”

Kreitan stiffened, using all his effort to
hold his anger at bay. He gave a curt nod.

The king turned his back to his captain and
took hold of the lid. Slowly, he lifted the cover revealing the
jagged piece once again. “At last, he whispered.

Kreitan seethed, knowing he could slaughter
the king in an instant, but also knowing that there was no escape
for him if he did. He remained at attention, motionless.

La’ard visibly shuddered at the sight of the
object that he had searched for, long and hard. Kreitan saw hope
skitter across the king’s face. Carefully, La’ard set the lid back
in place and turned toward his captain.

“The creature informed me that you had this.
Saw it, or felt it, or whatever. You should have been the one
telling me this.”

Kreitan let his eyes tell nothing. He stared
back at the king with a stony, blank look.

La’ard continued. “We will deal with your
lack of judgment later, Kreitan, but first we must finish this.
Bring the chest and come with me.” The king flung open the door and
strode down the hallway.

Kreitan, still trembling with anger, picked
up the chest and followed him. Maybe some time soon a chance would
present itself to rid himself of La’ard.

Perhaps this shard was the key to his
salvation as well.

Chapter Fifteen

The boundary between the human world and the
Territories was thought to be magical. Perhaps it had been at one
time, but now it mostly consisted of natural obstacles, such as the
River Kilarne to the east and the much wider River Vaspa on the
west. A stretch of castle wall standing twenty feet high provided
the border between the two rivers. This wall was sometimes
patrolled, but never maintained.

Centuries ago, the elf council and the human
king at that time made an agreement that the land north of these
rivers would belong to the humans. South of the rivers would be for
the elves and other races. Both sides signed the agreement, and for
a long while there was very little warring between the groups. As a
general rule, any race on human land would either be left alone or
dealt with depending on the law of the province the non-human was
found in. The same would go for the Territories. This agreement
kept the peace in both lands.

While the Territories saw a human from time
to time and usually left them alone, the human kingdom’s punishment
depended on who was in power. After the treaty, the first king let
the infractions go. But as new monarchs took the throne, fear came
along with the new power. Rules banned any human from entering the
Territories. Non-humans received punishment for trespassing on the
king’s land. The consequence was usually death.

The walls fell into disrepair. The number of
guards along the walls dwindled every year until only a handful
were serving this duty for disciplinary reasons. It was in one of
these walls that Katrena had an access point into La’ard’s
realm.

Along the wall, a secret door gave easy
access to either side. Many years ago, Katrena purchased a door key
off an old peddler. Money did not change hands until she was sure
of the validity of the opener. Even after the key proved true, the
salesman only received a blade across his throat as payment.

Today Katrena’s bounty was still out cold,
which in some ways she regretted. Having to carry the girl all this
way made the trek difficult and tedious. She was dead weight on the
elf’s shoulder. The dark elf dropped Kara’s body to the ground by
the wall and retrieved the key from her boot. It was a
well-concealed door, undetectable unless one was looking for it.
She moved aside a sliding rock and slid the key in. Quickly the
tumblers spun, unlocking the door. Katrena paused listening. She
then opened the door handle and peeked through the crack.
Nothing.