“Spoils of war can be fun. Henry, when you and your army are slaughtering trolls, see if they have anything as pretty as that necklace and bring me home a present.” The wine slurred the woman’s speech. Henry turned a bit red with embarrassment at the statement.
“Now, Miranda, it is not always about the loot.” He tried to give her a stern look, but her eyes had drifted back to Kara, to the necklace.
Again the scene started to fade out, and people and places became a blur. Unsettled, Kara took in the scene. When it settled, she recognized it as Rose’s room. Walking by the fireplace was Miranda, in the same dress she’d worn at dinner. Was this just later in the evening after dinner?
“The men are probably just talking about war and battle stuff. Boring talk.” Miranda had an unsteady step. She sipped from her goblet.
“Maybe you should sit down. The wine was strong tonight.” Kara said, as she approached Miranda from behind. She turned her away from the fire and guided her to a bench.
“Your necklace is pretty.”
“Thank you.”
“I want it.” Miranda pushed away from Kara, the rest of the wine spilling out over the goblet. Kara held her ground.
“I know. I saw it in your eyes.”
Both women stared down the other. Miranda dropped her goblet, which made a clang on the floor. Her eyes did not hide her intent. No one made a move, except for the sway Miranda had from the wine.
“I think you should sit before you get hurt.” Kara said, her anger burning.
Kara herself was scared to death at what was going to happen. Inside she tensed, while outwardly Rose appeared cool and collected.
It appeared that Miranda was going to object, but another dose of the wine swam through her. One of her legs gave out and she stumbled into a table, breaking a bottle of perfume. The fragrance bottle sliced Miranda’s hand. Quickly, the blood coated her palm. It took the woman a moment to realize that she was bleeding. The wounded hand left its bloody imprint upon the table as Miranda tried to steady herself.
Fire again relit in her eyes as the pain swatted away the haze. Instead of taunting again, the red-haired woman chose action. She lunged for the necklace, one bloody hand grabbing it before the owner had time to react.
But all went blurry, but not as a dream change. Kara could still see Miranda, but everything seemed to have a glaze over it. Anger and hatred burned so extreme that Kara went numb. What she could see was Miranda falling. The woman had let go of the necklace screaming. Also, a look of confusion then horror crossed her face. Her mouth opened to scream, but Kara heard nothing.
Then all was dark.
At first, Kara thought the dream was over, but she wasn’t awake. It was a black canvass of nothing, with no sound or any sense permeating. But then, from the right, a green scaly hand spread out in front of her face, fingers spread wide. It was grabbing for her. It was going to take her away!
No!
***
The scream ripped through the house waking everyone instantly. Kara sat up and felt a hand at her neck. She looked down and saw the creepy goblin from the market, its hands outstretched, trying to choke her. She screamed again, and the door burst open.
“Goblin!” Kara shouted. The hand slipped away. She pointed at the cowering creature. Dante, in fox form, and Hambone stood there. Snow sat up beside Kara, wrapping her arms around the frightened girl.
Skrag bolted for the window.
Dante darted after the goblin. The fox’s teeth chomped down on one of Skrag’s legs as he dived through the window. The goblin squealed, hanging partially out of the window.
Hambone ran for the front door intending to grab the goblin from the outside. Dante tried to hang on, but Skrag kicked and squirmed. The taste of goblin blood made his stomach want to hurl.
Skrag hit the ground outside just as Hambone rounded the side of the house ready to clobber the intruder. Skrag ran like he had never done before. Even though injured, Katrena’s henchman disappeared quickly into the forest. Hambone wanted to give chase, but his concern for Kara won out. He poked his head in the window.
Dante leapt up to attack, thinking the goblin was coming back for more. He stopped, collided with Hambone’s nose, and they both let out a yelp.
Kara sat sobbing, hugging herself, and rocking back and forth.
“Where’s the goblin?” Dante snarled, wanting nothing better than to finish the attack.
“Running scared. How’s Kara? Is she hurt?” Hambone looked toward Snow, who patted Kara’s back and hummed lightly in her ear.
Dante impatiently exclaimed, “Let’s go get him!”
“No.”
The word broke Dante’s resolve and he settled down, disappointment appearing in his eyes.
“But….”
“Kara is our first priority. That was Katrena’s slave. I know where to find that goblin when I need him.” Hambone’s eyes never left the pair on the bed.
A caw from behind him startled the dwarc. Hambone stuck his head out of the window and bumped his head on the window frame. On a tree next to him perched a crow. It stared at him, sizing him up. It moved very little, except for the head twitching now and then. With a final caw, it flew into the night, not to another tree, but farther to the north.
Hambone watched it go, and then stuck his head back in.
“Where’s Grace?”
Dante’s face had a sudden look of surprise. “Oh…” and he ran off to the next room. A creak, and then all of a sudden Grace was heard loud and clear. She came buzzing into the room, and toward the bed. Her tone lowered when she got to Kara and Snow.
“Grace, Grace…she’s fine. She’s fine.” Snow repeated. The sprite zipped around her. Dante slowly inched his way back in, trying to make it close to the window. Grace spotted him before he was halfway. She changed direction mid swoop and charged in front of Dante.
The ranting sprite went on and on. Dante’s fox ears, that were usually up and alert, now drooped. His eyes averted, and his head hung down in shame.
“Enough!” Hambone roared. Grace stopped mid speak. All eyes turned toward the dwarc in the window. Kara also looked up, her eyes red from crying.
“Kara, are you okay?” Hambone asked gently.
She thought for a moment and then nodded. Eyes returned to Hambone.
“Dante, apologize to Grace for locking her in that trunk.”
“But it was only….”
“Dante.” The quick, sharp word stopped the fox short. He bowed his head and then nodded too.
“I’m sorry Grace. I guess it wasn’t a night to be funny.” Dante said. Grace stared deeply at the fox before giving a small affirmative twitter.
All eyes went back to Hambone and silence fell. A wolf’s howl far in the distance broke the mood. Soon another wolf answered.
“Lire wolves. We better get this blood cleaned up. They can smell one drop a mile away.”
Chapter Eleven
Mornings in the castle were often cold. Night air crept along the stone passageways and lingered there, waiting for the first to wake. This was no exception for the king. Before his wife’s passing, La’ard would keep a fire going in his suite, listening to the crackling and popping sounds of the fire as he drifted off. But these days, he did not care for sleep. Rest only brought on nightmares.
Five years ago, on a dawn such as this and every one before it, the queen had awoke. She was an early riser, where La’ard took his royal time. Melinda Deavanet might have come from royalty, but her heart was that of a peasant, humble and kind. Sometimes the simple life attracted her more than the fancy clothes, servants, and other queenly pursuits.
Rising in the morning helped her pursue just a small part of that simple life. Within the walls of the castle, La’ard had provided his wife with space for a magnificent garden. Of course, caretakers and gardeners were available as well, but the queen tended it herself. It was her chance to step outside her duties and just be normal.
That morning, Melinda made
her way to the courtyard and out to her beds. The night sky had departed and the sun was just starting to make its appeal to the heavens. No one was in the courtyard at this hour, so the queen would not be disturbed. She did hate servants interrupting her to ask if they could lend a hand in her stead.
It was an hour until someone came looking for her. They found the king quickly, but already it was too late. His wife had been long gone by then None could change the outcome—not doctor, alchemist, or even spook. Her heart had given out and taken her life.
It was a morning he relived daily.
Ever since Melinda had been taken from him, La’ard did not sleep late. Continuing in her footsteps, he came to the garden every day, but he had no taste for cultivation. He believed it to be beneath him. No, La’ard came to visit her tomb.
Many protested, reservedly, about his plan to place his wife’s mausoleum in the heart of her oasis. They pushed to have her placed in the crypt below the castle. But opinions soon relented after one opponent was taken to the dungeon. La’ard would have his way.
Today, La’ard was a little later than usual. He spent his nights in even less sleep now, since Euphoria was possessed. But his nights of tossing and turning would not interfere with his homage to his wife. Maybe a curse caused him to be awake all night, but then fall asleep just when he should be rising.
The tomb stood out with its white marble walls. He had scoured his land and further kingdoms to find enough of the material. It was of minimal size, just big enough for him to enter and sit by her side. La’ard kept the key around his neck always. . He had to have part of the garden transplanted in order for the burial vault to be placed. To honor his wife, La’ard saw to it the flowers and plants were moved rather than destroyed. Roses, taken from plants she’d tended, were often the flower that filled the two vases on either side of the door.
He calmly made his way through the rows of plants. La’ard kept his eyes downcast, not looking at the blooms, for they reminded him of her. Pain of loss gripped his heart during this journey to the tomb, such suffering that no power or riches could overwhelm it. He had tried after that first year to rid himself of the pain. The guilt turned to anger, and his subjects felt the rage. He beat servants on sight, and denied peasants’ and subjects’ requests. He even punished some for the audacity to ask. Wine flowed like water. Empty barrels started to pile up as the weeks went on. His mood changed with the vintage, but there was never enough wine to wash away his pain.
Melinda’s tomb shined immaculate, sparkling, pure. When snow came, servants would brush it away and shovel a path down the pathway for the king. It was his standing command to do so, but they did it mostly to honor their departed queen.
This day the key fit in the lock with no resistance. With a simple turn, the tumblers disengaged. The door did not creak as the king pulled it open. Sunlight lit the small room, which never looked as inviting as he had once hoped it would. To him it looked cold, a place for the dead. But he did not care. It was not a place to make him feel happy. It was a room of solace, a room for a lonely man to grieve, and dream of what used to be.
Silently, he entered and sat upon the stone bench. Melinda’s marble casket was to the right of him, decorated with roses. A carved passage in the lid brought tears to his eyes the moment he started to read aloud. “A beauty among queens, forever laid to rest. A rose among the flowers….”
He could not finish the poem for his emotions gripped him. One hand covered his eyes as his other rested upon the cool marble coffin.
“I miss you.” He spoke aloud the regret from his heart.
La’ard.
He sat straight up, a bolt of cold electricity running through him. Was his queen answering him?
Father.
And now the shock was replaced with white-hot fury. That thing occupying his daughter was calling him. It needed to talk.
La’ard’s eyes were aflame at the disgrace, the blasphemy of calling upon him now in this sacred place. His steps were weighted, and he almost marched out of the tomb, dishonoring it. But he caught his temper, quarantined it for his ritual penance. Back to the sarcophagus, La’ard bent and kissed it. Then, gently, he sealed the tomb up. Once the key was around his neck, he released his anger.
Soon this would be finished. La’ard would see to it.
***
Caw! Caw!
Jesset stirred from his sleep to the incessant cry. It started in his dream, or was it a nightmare. Jesset groaned. He turned toward the window where a black crow perched. Odefus, back with information.
Odefus’ information was sometimes touch-and-go, not nearly as reliable as the deer from the previous night. But Odefus did see everything. This pesky crow thought with his stomach, so to get all the information out of him, Jesset needed to feed him.
The racket woke Birch too and he added his incessant barking to the clamor. There’s a crow! There’s a crow! There’s a crow! And on and on the little dog went.
Jesset struggled to get up, his old joints creaking. “Hush you two.” Both animals stopped instantly.
What do you got to eat? Odefus cackled.
Food? Birch whined.
“Yes, food for both of you. Just give me a moment to get up. Odefus, you can come in as long as you behave.” Instantly, the crow flew in through the window and perched on a chair, watching Jesset.
Still shaking off sleep, Jesset moved through the leftovers and prepared two plates. The crow and dog watched intently, neither moving nor speaking.
“Well, you can tell me your information while I make your food.” Jesset said as he looked back at Odefus. The crow blinked but remained silent. Jesset sighed and went back to his preparations.
He placed two plates of grub, one on the table and one on the floor. Jesset sat, watching them gobble down his offerings. He gave the crow only a chance to get down two beakfuls before he pressed further.
“Okay, talk.”
Pushy. Odefus swallowed another beakful. Okay, so I caught up with this goblin skulking through the forest. He was trying to be all stealth like. Stupid goblin. He caught my attention and I thought ‘hey, I think this guy is up to no good.’
The crow pecked at more food and took his time eating it.
“Go on, and I do hope this is good info. I seem to be getting an appetite for some crow pie.”
Cruel. My info is always good.
Jesset humphed.
So anyway, this goblin shows up at the dwarc’s house. You know, the one you have me and others watching. Anyway, this little monster breaks in and causes chaos in the house.
“Chaos? Was Kara there?” Jesset exclaimed, suddenly alert.
Just hold your goats there. No one was at home and I think that is why this goblin went to town inside, if you know what I mean. Odefus looked at Jesset with one eye as if waiting for an answer.
“Yes, I know what you mean.”
I don’t. Birch whined.
“Don’t worry about it. Finish your food.” Jesset rubbed the little dog’s head, who quickly forgot about it. Odefus finished his plate.
Okay, so this goblin leaves the dwarc house and starts hiking somewhere. It is pretty much a direct path, so I think to myself that he knows where he is going. I decided to spook him a bit just for fun. Odefus chuckled.
“What? So far this info is pretty much useless. Hmm, do I use a sweet crust for my pie or a regular flour one?”
Point taken. I scare the little goblin a bit. Rattle his chain. But he makes it to this other house. Were clan live in it, I think. Anyway, he looks in one window. And then makes his way to another which is open. He spends almost fifteen minutes staring before he starts arguing with himself.
“Arguing with himself? I still don’t see how this is pertinent to me.”
Okay, short scoop then. Goblin goes in. Scream. Human scream. Goblin starts to come out. Hangs out window, then falls. Blood from his leg. Dwarc comes out and chases goblin into the woods. Comes back when he doesn’t catch him and asks if ‘Kar
a’ is okay. The crow cocked his head to the side in a smug gesture.
“So what was the answer?” Jesset was now intrigued, worried even.
Answer? Oh about the girl. Yeah she was fine, I think. Now the goblin on the other hand. Not so sure on that front. Odefus pecked at his food some more. He took in great beakfuls and the only remains would be crumbs.
Jesset sat silent, mulling over what Odefus had told him. Kara was still with her friends, but why was this goblin attacking her? La’ard hadn’t sent him, that was for sure. He would never work with other races. But who?
“Odefus, did you recognize the goblin?”
Not really. I think his name was Sack or Scratch or something like that. He was one of those that talked of himself by his own name. Annoying.
“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Jesset mumbled as he stood up.
Hey! Odefus looked up from the plate. Odefus doesn’t talk like that.
Jesset was right there to meet his gaze. He grabbed the bird by the throat. “Is that all you have? Seems kind of thin to me. Birch, how would you like some pie?”
Pie? Birch barked.
The crow squawked in Jesset’s grip. He loosened his fist so the bird could talk.
Necklace.
“What?” Jesset’s grip loosened enough for Odefus to slip out. The crow flew to a higher perch, out of arm’s reach.
That’s not good on my vocal cords. I need this voice.
“Odefus, if you ever want anything to eat again, shut up and explain what you said before.” Jesset’s eyes burned.
The crow looked back, beak closed. It’s a good thing you are a good cook.
“Odefus.”
Okay already. Necklace. I heard the group talking after the goblin left. Kara had put on a necklace. Something about magical and her having dreams.
“Details.” Jesset was not letting up. Something about what the crow was saying was making him uneasy.
That’s really all I know. Necklace ain’t that pretty either, unless you like bats. Can’t stand the creatures myself. Bug eaters. Yuk.
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