Kara

by Scott J. Kramer

  “Birch! No!” Kara scrambled to her feet, to save her dog from the Witch Guard soldier. But it was already too late.

  Yipe!

  A large hand clamped down on the dog’s back. The soldier swung Birch around and catapulted the dog ten feet away. Birch struck a nearby tree trunk and disappeared among the tall grass.

  It only took Kara a moment for her shock to become anger. “Grr!” She launched herself at the offending soldier, not caring about herself. Her good knee jabbed upward, finding a soft spot in the armor. She clawed at the soldier’s unprotected face drawing blood with her nails. Kara got a few good punches in before the man easily threw her aside as deftly as he had Birch.

  The ground welcomed her with a bout of new pain. A half-buried rock jabbed into her side.

  A menacing shadow cast over Kara. The soldier’s blood-streaked face glared down at her. Rage boiled in his eyes. He reached down with one hand, drawing the other back in a fist.

  She clamped her eyes shut.

  “No! We are to bring her back to Master Kreitan.”

  “One small lesson will not take much time at all….”

  Kara felt her body lift off the ground. This was it.

  “No! He will be very displeased if she is too injured to be of any use.”

  She remained motionless, uncertain what would happen. Suddenly, she fell back to the ground, the pointed rock now stabbing at her back.

  Her eyes shot open with the hurt, and she saw the soldier walk away. She tried to roll, but her body would not respond. Tears blurred her eyes and she sobbed in frustration, fear, and pain.

  A horse clomped near her. Someone dismounted.

  Kara’s instincts to escape snapped in place, and she tried to roll over again. This time it worked.

  “Not so fast there.” And a boot came down on the small of her back, not hard, but with enough strength to pin her to the ground.

  She looked around wildly, trying to get her bearings. Where was Birch? Was he even alive?

  “Hey, what’s going on over there?”

  The sound of a man’s voice made her stop for a moment. It didn’t sound like a soldier.

  A fisherman! There was somebody down here! Hope reignited in her heart for a moment, before logic asked how a fisherman could rescue her.

  “Go about your business, old man. This is the king’s affair.” The soldier above her spoke. His boot pressed down harder on Kara’s back.

  Old man? Kara’s spirit sank lower, now realizing there was no chance for salvation. It would take a strong, young man to beat the soldiers.

  Nobody spoke for a moment.

  “Why would a mere girl warrant the attention of the king’s soldiers, I wonder?” The voice sounded closer. Kara did not recognize it, although it sounded vaguely familiar. Who was it?

  “Can’t you hear? This is none of your concern. Now go back to fishing, peasant.” This time the order came from another soldier.

  Something rustled the grasses to Kara’s right. Birch slowly crept up. Blood caked his fur. His cold nose pressed into her face.

  She wanted to hug him, but one arm was pinned underneath her.

  “Again, why would the king want to arrest my niece? I think I do have the right to ask at least that.”

  Kara picked her head up from the grass and turned in the direction of the fisherman’s voice. A horse’s legs and some tall grass blocked her view of the speaker.

  What did he just say! Niece! How could that be? She didn’t have an uncle or any relative in these parts or anywhere else for that matter. Her parents both were only children, so no aunts or uncles for Kara. What was this stranger talking about?

  “Be gone, old man. She is a matter for the king. Consider yourself lucky he’s not interested in you as well.” This came from the soldier above her again, and he stepped forward, blocking more of her view.

  “Lucky? Hmm, well, I will have to protest.”

  Birch whined in her ear. Kara opened her mouth to shush him, but realized she could move. She wanted to run, but her instincts warned her to wait. The soldier in front of her moved forward a few more steps.

  Where is the river? That was her only escape. The fisherman must have a boat somewhere nearby.

  “Old man, do you really…” But Kara lost the rest of the conversation as she strained her ears to listen for running water. She heard the flow of the river to her left. It sounded close. If she were lucky—and fast—she could make it there.

  She looked back toward the soldier. His boots were still there, but barely visible through the grass now. She prepared herself mentally and physically for the dash to the river. It was a crazy plan, but one that might work. But what if there was no boat?

  I’ll swim.

  Kara launched herself toward the riverbank. She was running, and no one seemed to notice, until Birch barked.

  “Halt!”

  It was all or nothing as the riverbank came closer. She wasn’t going to stop now. Fear crept in, but adrenaline pumped through her aching body. Sixty feet more and she would be free. She heard armor chinking, men chasing her, but still she kept going.

  Fifty feet to the river… forty….

  She heard a grunt behind her, and it sounded closer than the footsteps. Birch barked from somewhere, but Kara couldn’t think about any of that. She needed to just run. If they caught her, she would be lost.

  Thirty feet….

  Where’s the boat?

  Twenty-five….

  Her eyes scanned the shore. Nothing, but a short drop-off into the rushing river.

  Fifteen….

  Kara ducked under a tree branch and immediately heard someone behind her strike it.

  Five….

  Her mind focused on the river, unsure of what to do next.

  Jump!

  Kara didn’t question the decision; she just followed it. The ground disappeared as she flew through the air. Something passed through her hair, as she left the bank. But Kara had no time to look back. Icy cold water engulfed her, some spilling down her throat.

  She came up coughing, spluttering. Her arms flailed for a moment as the current took her, tugging at first like a small infant at her dress, but quickly the flow of the river strengthened like an angry beast playing tug-of-war.

  She slipped under the thrashing torrent. Kara kicked desperately, struggling for the surface. The world above her muted.

  One strong whip kick pushed her above the surface of the water. She coughed up the choking water and tried to suck in some air. More water came with it.

  “Help!” Her voice sounded far away, weak.

  Why am I calling for help? She knew how to swim. But her mind was overloaded and she couldn’t regain control over her panic.

  The current pulled again, but she kept her head up. Kara looked about for the bank or a log, something to grab on to, but all she saw was tumbling brown water.

  And then, suddenly, a huge rock loomed in front of her.

  Oh, no! Rapids!

  Quickly, Kara felt herself begin to spin. She fought to face forward.

  Crack!

  She collided with a pale gray boulder. Her body, like a rag doll, flopped as it floated farther into the rocks.

  Pain throbbed and panic took over. The current sucked her down, and the rocks pushed her upward. She gulped for air, but got water.

  Her lungs gasped desperately for air. Rocks flashed before her. The world began to spin.

  Crack!

  All went black.

  Chapter Two

  It started as an ordinary day for the dwarc in the Territories. This he would tell himself later. Always an early riser, Hambone had planned most of his morning already. It was off to market, hopefully for something good to eat, and then maybe a lazy stroll home to enjoy the weather.

  Hambone’s path to market took him close to the Kilarne River. Often he would stop, skip a few stones across the dirty river, trying to make it to the other side, to Faldoa—the land of the humans. The bottom was never cl
early visible because of the mud washing off the mountain. Hambone claimed the mud in the river helped with his stone skipping ability. His friends Dante and Grace always told him the claim was ridiculous.

  Today, he was not interested in throwing stones. His stomach grumbled. The faster he got to the market, the faster he would get to eat. He jogged down the path, but something by the river caught his eye. There on the shore, something had washed up. A form, maybe a rock or just a tree limb. As he got closer, Hambone saw the nearby rocks draped with auburn hair.

  Was it some kind of animal? Curiosity and concern got the better of him and he approached the thing. The form wore a dress that once might have been a pretty color, but was now a drab, dirty brown. The river had given it a mud washing. Slowly, he veered off the path and crept toward the body. When he was within a few feet, he could see a face.

  He jumped back. “It’s a human!” But how could a human be in the Territories? Only non-humans like him lived here.

  Hambone held in his excitement. Nervous energy rushed through his body and almost caused him to jump up and down. He had never seen a human up close before. Quickly, he looked around. Where there was one human, there probably were more. There was nobody else around. He picked up a stick and poked the body.

  The human coughed.

  Hambone jumped behind a tree. He peeked around the trunk and waited for the human to do something else. Maybe morph into something hideous or get up and swim away.

  Silence.

  The body lay in its original state. Hambone stared, ready to run if the human stood up. Everyone knew they were dangerous. The wicked tales told about humans could have been exaggerated when he was a kid, but some of it had to be true.

  Slowly, he made his way from behind the tree. Each step brought him closer to the thing. A few more steps and he stood over the form.

  What to do now?

  ***

  As she surfaced from sleep, Kara could feel her damp, mud-sodden clothes clinging to her. Any little movement caused the cold wetness to seep further into her bones. Soft sunlight heated her cheek but that was the only part of her warm. Muck crusted her eyes, making them stick a bit as she opened them. Some dried dirt broke off from her lashes and blurred her sight.

  Another coughed rippled her lungs, expelling the remaining fluid. Her head ached. Actually, Kara found her whole body ached from her battle with the river.

  Where am I? Where is Birch? Why had she gone into the water? Her mind searched for answers, but her memories were hazy. Witch Guard, fire, her father. An uncle?

  She blinked her eyes, clearing more of the mud.

  Above her, a large hand with huge fingers reached for her. A monster!

  “Ahhhh!”

  The hand darted away. The figure jumped back and took off running. An echoing scream erupted from it.

  Blood pumped through her body and forced movement. She rolled to her feet and stood with a cough. Pain throbbed in her head, causing her to stoop closer to the ground. All her senses were on alert wanting to know who that hand belonged to. She rubbed her eyes, clearing away the last of the mud.

  “Hello?” It came out as a questioning but anguished cry.

  The forest looked empty. The hand, the monster, whatever it was, was gone. Kara waited and listened, not sure what she’d do if something responded.

  A bird chirped in the distance and the river waves made small sounds as they lapped upon the shore. And then, there it was. Snap! A small twig broke under a heavy foot, somewhere behind one of the trees to her left.

  “Hello?” Kara tried to insert confidence into her voice.

  Nothing answered back.

  “I know you’re there! You might as well come out…slowly. I warn you. I’ve got a big stick and I’m not afraid to use it.” Her voice held command, but inside fear gripped her.

  Kara glanced behind her at the river. The far shore was a good quarter mile away. A chill rippled her spine. Which side of the river am I on?

  “Come out!” But her own voice betrayed her as it cracked. She had no weapon to defend herself with except a thin stick. And if this wasn’t Faldoa, then it must be the Territories and there could be anything on the other side of that tree.

  A hand appeared around one of the nearby oaks, the same hand that had been reaching for her.

  Her breath caught at the sight of it. Already, Kara could tell it was not human. The skin was a pale, pasty color. Five sausage-like fingers complete with dirty nails wrapped around the tree. Dark hair covered the muscular arm that wrapped the trunk.

  Within a few seconds, the rest of the creature came into view.

  Kara’s original gasp almost turned to laughter, but shock held her in check at the sight of the beast. Most people would expect the monster attached to that arm would be a horrible picture, but the arms were the worst of it. The rest of him was just plain ludicrous.

  Dressed like a prairie farmer, giant overalls clung to the massive shoulders and a short, faded red shirt covered the rest of its torso. A hat made of some reeds and straw barely fit over its long locks of bark colored hair. A large mustache trailed under a large doorknob nose. A partially braided beard hung off its chin.

  “I-I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean any harm.” The voice was gruff, but intelligible. It reminded her of the fat men in town when they talked.

  Kara stared, not moving, still unsure of the sight before her.

  “I’m…I’m Hambone.” the beast said, offering an out-stretched hand, but not daring to take a step closer. “Nice….ta…meet you?” The creature had an awkwardness to it that made it seem simple.

  “What…umm? I’m…Kara.” Kara stumbled over her words. He didn’t look like anyone, or anything she had ever seen before. No doubt about it, she was in the Territories. It was a land of the non-human races, and this creature was about as non-human as they go.

  “I’m a dwarc. Part orc and part dwarf.” Hambone seemed pleased by this fact. He relaxed a bit.

  Her father once read to her about elves, dwarves, and fairies, but that was just childhood tales. Or was it?

  “I’ve never met a…” Again, unsure of how to express anything, Kara’s voice sputtered out.

  “I think I am the only one. Unique in a way. Mom called me her special Orc-kin. Dad was the dwarf.” He started to take a step toward her, but she immediately backed up.

  “Stay there!” Water splashed at her ankles as she stepped into the river.

  Hambone looked a little shocked by the fierce command.

  “It’s okay. I understand. I look scary. I got my size from my mom, and hair and brains from my dad.” He turned his back on her and took a couple of steps away. “I’ll go now.”

  “No…wait. It’s not…” Kara said uncertainly. She looked up and saw that the creature was listening intently. “Someone was chasing me….and I jumped into the river.”

  Hambone’s eyes went wide. “Who would be chasing something as….small as you?”

  “Um…” And Kara pressed hard to remember all that had happened in the last few hours. “The…Witch Guard?” Why was she so confused?

  “The Witch Guard? They sound like a nasty bunch. Magic can be dangerous.”

  “Magic? Don’t be silly. There is no magic in Faldoa.” Kara laughed.

  “This isn’t Faldoa.”

  Kara stared at Hambone, “Oh, no. I was afraid I was on the wrong side of the river.”

  Hambone looked taken aback. “Um…it’s not the wrong side to me. It’s perfectly nice here in the Territories. Actually, Macada, if you want to get even more specific.”

  It was Kara’s turn to look bewildered. “Macada?” Panic crept into her voice. But how will I get home?”

  “I don’t know,” Hambone said. “Maybe you’ll have to stay here forever.”

  “B-but…but t-that’s not…p-possible. I belong in Faldoa. My father is in danger, and I need to get home. Please, you must help me.”

  ***

  King La’ard set his cha
lice of mead on the table and turned toward the opening door to the dining hall. A figure in sulfur black boots entered the room. An unmistakable hiss followed the footsteps.

  “Master Kreitan.”

  “Sire.” Kreitan dropped to one knee in front of his king.

  The king waved him to his feet but held up one finger to stop further speech while he plucked another potato from the plate. Eerie silence hung as La’ard slowly chewed, savoring each texture and flavor. All the while, he fixed Kreitan with a penetrating glare. Kreitan did not waver in his stance under the scrutiny of his king.

  La’ard took the cloth that lay on his lap, dabbed at a smear of grease on his face, pushed back his chair, and stood. The king was not the tallest ruler that Faldoa ever had, but he definitely had a commanding appearance.

  “Master Kreitan, you know how I extremely dislike being disturbed while eating.”

  “Yes, sire.” Kreitan remained still, not explaining himself. La’ard would ask the questions and get the information from his loyal servant, but Kreitan would not reveal anything more until asked. He’d make La’ard work for the answers.

  “Walk with me and we will discuss this matter which I presume has been resolved.”

  Kreitan fell in step just behind the king. He felt small next to La’ard. Then again, it could have been the crown La’ard wore everywhere. Kreitan thought that adornment unnecessary, making his king look like a fool.

  “So the lead proved false?”

  “No, sire. There were complications.”

  La’ard stopped and turned toward his captain. Long silver locks of hair swished around the crown. The hair was a common trait among the Mathis royal line. No one touched the king’s hair. It seemed that no one needed to. La’ard relished how some servants whispered that his hair was magically enchanted, while peons from the town below the hill said it was wraith’s hair and that La’ard himself was an apparition in disguise. All utter nonsense, but the king did not wish to dispel the rumor, for it caused loyalty—or at least fearful devotion.