Euphoria

by Scott J. Kramer

  “We have to do something. She…that thing won’t stay put. It needs to stir up trouble.” This made Taylon glance around, expecting to see a cloud of dust kicked up by a galloping horse. All was quiet in the distance.

  “Then we need to ride.” And Taylon made the first move to stand. Discomfort rang through his legs, but it was not as bad as he expected. He offered a hand to Hazel and helped her up.

  Without another word they were off. Somehow they would find a way to warn and defend against what was coming.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Da’Lynn and Katrena had been sitting at Shade’s table now for what seemed like forever. Katrena mainly listened as Da’Lynn—or what used to be her mother—talked. The piece of Midnight Core sat on the table between them, pulsing gently, attracting Katrena’s eye occasionally.

  Talk began of power and evil things. At first, Katrena was uneasy with the whole mess. Some spirit or wraith had invaded her mother’s body. Not that Katrena had cared much about her mother, but it did unsettle her. As the talking continued and the glass shard glowed, the thought of it became acceptable.

  “Did you enjoy your food?” The wraith now spoke with Da’Lynn’s voice.

  She was finishing the last of her bread as it spoke. Her answer was a nod while she chewed. The shard pulsed a darker, richer blue, which drew the elf’s eyes immediately. It slowed everything down for Katrena as the light mesmerized her.

  Da’Lynn smiled as she watched her daughter’s face slacken. “One thing that needs to be done is to craft a necklace out of this shard here.”

  “Yes,” Katrena said dreamily, still chewing her bread methodically.

  “But there are some specifications that need to be correct in order for me to wear it.”

  “Uh-huh.” The glow was so pretty it didn’t matter the words spoken.

  “Where might we be able to get that task done?”

  Katrena took a moment to answer, needing to process this question. “I could do it. I have the tools at my house.”

  “Crystal?”

  “Everything.”

  “Good.” Da’Lynn sat back, a knowing smile haunting her face.

  ***

  Gantha came back in from his bath to find Ra’na already whipping up some food. Loud snores echoed from the room where Lourak bunked. The councilman quickly dressed and made his way into the kitchen.

  “Sleep well?” Ra’na asked upon seeing him. She smiled warmly.

  “Uh…yes. As well as I could. Thanks.” He felt his cheeks blushing and quickly turned away, looking for something to offer as an alibi. Plates were stacked on the counter, and he grabbed a few. “Ready for these?”

  “No, not quite yet.” She let loose a small laugh. He laughed too. And then there was awkward silence as she looked down at the food and he tried to look elsewhere. After a minute of avoidance, Ra’na asked, “So, what next?”

  “Huh?”

  “The wizard? Since he turned out to be less helpful than a toadstool.” Ra’na continued stirring a pot.

  “Um…I don’t know. Maybe Da’Lynn will have an answer,” Gantha said, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck.

  And again the silence came. Ra’na removed the pot from the heat and set it on the counter. She bent and pulled out a tray of golden muffins from the oven.

  “Well, it is ready. I give Lourak about three minutes to be awake and ready to eat.” Ra’na smiled.

  “Really? It sounded like he was deep in sleep,” Gantha said as he moved to the food.

  Ra’na took a plate from Gantha and started to fill it. Two muffins and some of her famous porridge. He stared at her plate in awe, knowing he wouldn’t be taking much. She saw his expression. “Sorry, I like to eat.”

  True to the prediction, Lourak stumbled out of the room half-asleep, stomach rumbling. The smell must have awoken him. He hadn’t taken much time to fix his appearance, and he really didn’t seem to care. His beard stuck out in several directions, as did his hair.

  “Mmmm, muffins,” Lourak mumbled as he took five—four on his plate and one in his mouth. Gantha watched, amazed at the dwarf’s lack of manners.

  They all found a spot around Ra’na’s table and began to dig into the food. There was no conversation at all as muffins and porridge disappeared. After about ten minutes, the eaters sat back in their chairs, the table completely cleared of food.

  “That was really good,” Gantha said, quickly stifling a belch.

  “Aye, Ra’na, always a treat,” Lourak said as he finished off his fifth muffin. Ra’na sat back and smiled.

  WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

  The sound echoed through the small house as if large boulders had fallen from the sky. Gantha sat up straight, shocked by the sound. Ra’na got to her feet and went to the door. Before she could reach for the knob, it swung open swiftly, gently coming to rest against the wall. Ynob strode in; Snow was at his heels.

  “Where is he?” His voice was commanding. The question hung in the air unanswered by Ra’na because the wizard kept walking. He approached the table, bypassing the dwarf, and stood in front of Gantha.

  Gantha looked up at the wizard, who was clearly angry. “Yes...?” It sounded so feeble once it was out.

  “I think you know why I am here.” His eyes penetrated downward. Gantha’s nerves sprung to life.

  “Yer here for Ra’na’s marvelous muffins, ain’t ya?” Lourak said as he picked at a few crumbs still on his plate.

  Ynob rotated slowly to look upon the dwarf. “No.” It was a drawn-out response that cried out with contempt. “I am here for my property, elf.” His gaze switched back to Gantha, who trembled.

  But before he could utter a word, Ra’na stepped in. “Excuse me, sir. I believe this is my house that you have rudely barged into. I must ask you to leave.” She stood between the table and Ynob.

  The look the wizard had on his face was priceless. It was one of shock and outrage, and disgust. He quickly composed himself. “I will, ma’am, as soon as this fellow returns my tome.” Ynob did not back away but stood his ground.

  Ra’na stared at the wizard for a moment before directing her gaze to Gantha. It was almost as unbearable as Ynob’s stare. “I can explain.”

  A sigh escaped her. She shook her head and stepped away. “You can have him.”

  “What?“ Gantha cried out.

  “You heard me. What lunatic steals from a wizard? You gotta be nuts,” Ra’na said and took another step back. Shocked, Gantha glanced at Ra’na, then looked toward Lourak for support.

  “Aye’m with her on this. Just plain foolish.”

  Gantha looked for a moment longer and then faced the wizard, whose smile had grown wide. “It’s right over here!” The elf scampered from the table toward his bunk. He expected the wizard to stop him, but all he heard was a deep laugh behind him. Fearful, he quickly grabbed the tome and crept back to the group.

  The others stared at the wizard—he laughed as if there had been a tremendously funny joke. Even Snow was staring at him. Ynob finally noticed the looks and stopped laughing.

  “Really? You don’t get it? Ignorant people.” He glanced from face to face before throwing up his hands. “This elf couldn’t have stolen the real one from me. It has a doppelganger spell cast on it. Should it leave a designated area, it will be replaced with a fake.”

  Everyone still stared at him blankly. Gantha looked down at the book. It sure appeared real. The wizard started to get annoyed. “Again, really? Not even grasping this a little bit? Ugh! Elf Boy.” He pointed at Gantha.

  “It’s Gantha.”

  “Whatever. If you open up that copy, all the pages will be blank. A total fake,” Ynob said and turned away.

  Gantha did as the wizard instructed, expecting to see nothing. Instead, the pages were full of writing.

  “Check again, magic man,” Lourak said with a chuckle. Ynob turned back quickly as if ready to strike the dwarf down, but his eyes fell upon the open tome. His expression changed, and he grabbed for th
e book.

  “That’s not possible!” He rifled through the pages, almost tearing some. Many had writing on them.

  Gantha took the moment. He stepped back from the wizard. If he had just done something impossible, he really didn’t want to be around for the consequences.

  The tome snapped shut, and Ynob’s eyes focused in on the elfin councilman. “How?”

  “Um…I don’t…I really didn’t….”

  He started to advance on Gantha. “Obviously you did. How did you trick the spell?” The wizard’s finger pointed at the elf.

  “I-I—” Gantha stuttered as he stared at the finger. He remembered what happened to Lourak. “I wanted it to research for more clues to the prophecies.”

  Ynob stopped half into the next step. His mouth hung part open as if he was going to say something. It closed and he stepped back. The accusing hand came up and curled to his chin as the wizard thought. “Could it be?”

  The wizard stood there for a moment before Ra’na spoke up again. “Tell us, or get the hell out of here.”

  Ynob whipped around on his heel and faced the dark elf. She did not flinch away and met his penetrating stare. “Very well.” He nodded and headed to the door.

  He was only three steps away when Snow stopped him. “No.”

  The single word froze the magician in his steps. It took him a second to compose himself and reply. “And why might that be?”

  Snow took two strides forward so she was only about seven feet away from him. The Werehare was maybe a foot shorter, but she showed determination. “These are my friends. They need assistance, which I think you can provide. From what these prophecies sound like, I think they need a lot of help. You worked me in the past with Kara, and that didn’t go so well. But if what this elf says is true, I think the wraith has the necklace now. So you are going to sit down and shut up because we need your expertise.”

  All eyes shifted to the wizard, who stared at Snow. He revealed nothing as he looked at her, and no one could anticipate what he was going to do. Finally, Ynob dropped his head. “Yes. Okay.”

  A slight cheer erupted from the group, the loudest accolades erupting from Snow, who ran forward and kissed the wizard. Lourak simply grunted. Gantha heaved a sigh of relief.

  “But before we get started, can someone please get me a decent cup of tea?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The slave galleria was hidden away in a tent. That was Fret’s best guess, because he didn’t know the area and couldn’t see a lot from his vantage point. A few times he tried to ask Warren, but the brownie said nothing.

  When the wagon stopped, the creatures were unloaded. Green bellies and feet returned to transport Fret to his spot on the showroom floor. His crate was roughly set down as the two handlers moved off to get another.

  It was a large tent, like those Fret had seen on festival days, but without the bright colors and flags. This pavilion was a drab green color, which faded into the forest. He guessed that was the point of the whole operation. From his prison, he could see some of the other cages. They ranged in sizes from small, like Warren’s pen, to impossibly huge. Fret hoped never to meet the creature imprisoned in there.

  Van strolled with a huge ring of keys. The door swung open, and before Fret could form a thought, a shackle fastened around his leg. Clink.

  “Just so ye don’t go anywhere.” And the gnome moved on.

  Fret felt the chain, how thick it was, how unbreakable. Slowly he climbed out of his tight pen. His muscles screamed and ached as they bent in ways they hadn’t in hours. It took him fifteen minutes to stand upright, and even then he looked as if he was seventy-nine and needed a cane—back all hunched and legs bowed.

  As he regained his original height, Fret looked around as the other creatures emerged. The cage door opening had fooled them all. Van had counted on it in order to shackle his ill-gotten possessions. There was a satyr—a creature that was part man, part goat. Tiny horns poked from his head. He appeared as scared as Fret.

  Fret couldn’t recognize a few of the creatures, but one caught his attention. Tucked back opposite his position was a white-haired, fair-featured girl. A thin, white gown draped her feminine form. This dress grabbed what little light was available inside the tent and reflected it out in a range of sparkles. The girl huddled in a ball, hair covering her face. Her black chain was evident and looked very out of place.

  A roar from his left drew his focus away from the girl. One of the large prisons opened, and the creature that emerged burst from its confines. Van panicked for a moment as he stumbled under the weight of its shackle. Another roar filled the tent.

  This beast looked like it was half bull and half humanoid. Large, curved horns protruded from the sides of its bull-shaped mug. The hairy thing shook with each roar. Instantly terrified, Fret let out a tiny cry.

  “Ma Dada!” Melina appeared out of nowhere, pointing something at the horrific slave. The effect was instant. Calmness passed over the bull creature. Van quickly shackled one leg and ran to shackle the other. He then looked up at the dryad.

  “What did you think you were doing?” Melina’s words were like cold stones, each hitting Van with the power meant to deliver a strong message. The gnome cringed as if it was painful to hear each word.

  “Sorry, ma’lady.” That was all the gnome could say because customers were starting to come through the flap. Just as the slaves varied in heritage, the potential owners were from diverse races. Probably twenty in all perused the merchandise. Fret learned early on to be submissive.

  A large troll tried to grab Fret’s face. As the hand came nearer, Fret swatted it away. Immediately Melina apologized while sending a volt of electricity through the human. It stung but did not incapacitate him. From that moment on, he allowed whatever pawing patrons deemed necessary.

  Not all of the customers were male either. A pair of females, humanoid-looking except for tiny horns poking from their heads, came by. “A human. And so young.” Her speech sounded like a lisping fire as it spit smoke. Fret watched her eyes as they took him in. Her mouth curved into a smile, revealing one fang.

  “Come, Atix, we are looking for a slave and not a mate,” the other said and pulled Atix along.

  “Bye,” Atix cooed as they moved on.

  Many of the other slaves were bought and taken away. Some customers left the cages, while others took their slaves home in them. Atix and her companion settled on the large, bull-headed creature, which somehow calmly walked out of the tent with them. All the rage and anger from before had left, and now it was docile.

  Two hours had passed. Through the sparse crowd, Fret counted about four slaves still currently for sale. Warren was still there—no one took interest in the brownie. Van and Melina circulated through the crowd, answering questions and helping out in any way they could.

  Fret passed the time by watching the tent opening. As customers came and went, he was able to catch brief glimpses of the outside and possible freedom. While whittling the time, he saw the elf enter.

  Elves were the fairy creatures Fret could recognize easiest because of their ears. Some of the kid stories, as Fret referred to them, often had this race kidnapping women or fighting with humans. He didn’t believe any of the tales, but deep in his heart a little worry crept up.

  “Ah, Master Kerlick. I did not think we would be seeing you today.” Melina glided to her customer, extending her hand. The elf took it and kissed it.

  “Business tends to keep me away.” Kerlick winked. The elf was charming and handsome if one excluded the scar running down his left cheek and across his throat. His skin was a shade of tan, yet the scar tissue was bright white.

  “The pick of the litter has already gone today. We had a great Minotaurian that would have suited you well. But you may find something from what is left,” Melina said and then flitted away to another customer.

  Kerlick surveyed the room from where he was, taking in the customers as well as the slaves. When his eyes landed on Fret, he
paused as if surprised. Within a few steps, the elf was in front of him.

  Fret did not look away or down when this elf stared at him. Some of the races he couldn’t bear to look at or they frightened him, but for some reason this elf stirred a bit of anger in him. Kerlick grabbed the human’s shoulder in his tight grasp. Fret couldn’t stop himself and shrugged away the hand. Van saw Fret’s transgression and scurried up.

  “Aye am so sorry for its rudeness,” the little man exclaimed as he brought out a small device.

  “No need for that.” Kerlick waved at the gnome.

  “But it needs to be taught a lesson,” Van continued. He stretched out a collapsible metal wand.

  “And I said no, little man.” The words became hard as they fell down to the gnome’s ears. Van stared up with a disgusted look. He paused, saying nothing for the moment. “I do not want my property damaged.”

  It only took a blink of an eye for the phrase to register. Van quickly made the metal wand disappear. His tone became cheerful again as the business at hand concluded.

  “Would ye be needing the cage? If so….”

  “No cage, just the boy,” Kerlick said.

  After the simple transaction, the elf removed the shackle, grabbed Fret’s arm, and escorted him outside. He was quickly jostled to a black horse.

  “Do you ride?”

  Surprised to be addressed directly, Fret simply nodded when his voice couldn’t find an affirmative answer. Kerlick hoisted the human up on the horse without any warning—one minute Fret had been on the ground, and the next he was straddling a mare. A moment later, the elf was on the animal too.

  “Hold on if you don’t want to be kicked off.” Fret hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around the elf.

  “Where…?” Fret squeaked out, but his ride had started out. Bolted out was more like it. They were already at a gallop.

  He wanted to glance back one last time to say good riddance to the slave traders. Kerlick had plans for him. Fret hoped he’d like them.