The wizard seemed to be in no hurry to answer the anxious pondering. He dunked his biscuit and then took a bite. “I must say, these little biscuits are a marvel. I’d almost swear they were elf-made.”
“They are.” Hambone grunted, annoyed by the pompous man ignoring him. “Answer my question.”
Ynob stared at Hambone, the look of delight gone from his face. He swallowed his bite before answering. “Yes, according to the journal, that actually happened.”
“So Kara is in danger now?” Hambone’s tone became serious.
“Well, as she was captured by this Katrena, I’d say she is in some peril.”
Hambone stood and approached the wizard. “From the necklace. Is Kara in danger because of the necklace she wears, wizard?” He stared hard down at the man. Anger began to boil inside him.
Ynob took a moment, disgust upon his face. “I’m here to help you and you are being very rude. Maybe I need to leave.” The wizard started to stand, but Hambone was too close to him to permit him to properly stand. He fell back into his seat.
“This is not me being rude. You had a chance to help Kara when she was right in front of you. You didn’t. You threw her out because you were scared.”
“I was not.”
The dwarc’s nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed.
Fear skirted across Ynob’s face. “Well, I wasn’t afraid.” It came out in a puny voice.
Hambone breathed in deeply, before speaking again. “So, answer me. Is Kara in danger from the necklace?”
Silence passed. Dante and Snow looked on, waiting. Grace hovered.
“I believe Rose’s soul is still trapped in that necklace. I also think it wants out.”
Chapter Seventeen
Kara sat, stunned, waiting in the pew of the huge church. This was the first time she’d been there. It was massive, compared to the small chapel she usually attended with her father and mother.
Thoughts of family brought tears to her eyes. She was homesick and wanted to be done with this adventure. If only her mother could be here, with her arms wrapped around her, her father right by her side telling her everything was going to be okay.
Katrena had put an illusion on her, which kept her in a limited binding spell. The religious and the pilgrims could see her in the pew, but all they saw was an elderly lady in mourning. Kara’s own tears added to the convincing illusion.
The elf also disguised herself. She wore the habit cloak of the religious order of women. This attire helped cover her ears and dark skin that instantly made her recognizable as an outside race.
Earlier, when the elf released a messenger raven, Kara assumed it was being sent to the king. The bird squawked as it flew into the air and disappeared among the palace walls.
And so they waited. Kara watched, immobilized, from her pew. Katrena lingered close enough to keep an eye on her prize.
A soft warmth radiated from her chest where the necklace hung. Katrena had forgotten all about the necklace while getting ready for her rendezvous at the church. Kara too had forgotten about the thing until now.
Kara.
What? If she could have swung her head to look around, she would have done so. Someone had called her name. The binding spell even prevented her from answering back with her voice.
Be calm.
Calmness was the last thing on her mind. Katrena passed by, again, briefly checking on Kara before walking up the aisle. Katrena wasn’t telling her these things. Who was, then?
You lived through my memories.
My dream? Kara answered with her mind.
My memories from before. Rose.
What was happening to her? Was she going crazy? Kara knew she had to be. The Territories had done this to her. Some magic spell was allowing her to hear voices in her head.
No, not crazy. I can help.
Tears trickled down Kara’s cheeks. She missed her family, and now her mind was hearing voices. All Kara could do was hope, pray, and wait for a miracle to happen. She wanted answers, but who would give them to her? The king? Her parents? Katrena?
The voice spoke to her one more time. I am real. Trapped in the necklace. But I will save you.
***
Kreitan watched from the balcony of the church. His hand caressed the mahogany box with loving care. The trap was in place and now he needed the squirrel to enter it. His contact would be here any moment now. Euphoria claimed she had the necklace with her. And the girl, but he didn’t care about her now. The necklace was all he, and Euphoria, wanted.
The church held its normal crowd today. Pilgrims from other lands marveled over the largest worship house in the realm. Members of the religious order went about their daily servitude duties, and local countrymen offered their alms.
From up on high, Kreitan watched for anything out of the ordinary. Key men, placed near the exits, weren’t close enough to intervene, if necessary. He caught movement on his left. A soldier dropped to one knee next to him and handed Kreitan a message. The captain unrolled the scrap of paper, attached to the raven before him. A smile flashed across his face.
“Sir?” There was fear in the soldier’s voice.
Kreitan nodded to the man and dismissed him. The beast had been right. The woman was here now, or would be shortly. How satisfying the day was turning out to be.
His fingers traced the container, longing to use it. Every time he called forth the captured spirit, it gave him a surge of power, of invulnerability. And the agony of the victim was sweet, sweet honey to him. No weapon gave him that thrill. With the box, he felt so alive. Even executing La’ard had not given him such a rush.
Kreitan’s mind drifted from his anticipated task, and his fingers slid along the crate’s hinges. His fingers slowly forced the lid open a tiny amount. Maybe he could pull a peasant aside while he waited. Someone to practice on.
The sounds of a disturbance made him close the box. His hand went to the guardrail and he looked over the edge to the scene below. A pair of children were running along the pews, laughing and causing a small ruckus. Kreitan scowled, his trance broken. Normally, he would have his guard scare the laughter out of those brats and possibly even kill the parents. Not out of respect for the church, but because children disturbed Kreitan.
He started to back away from the rail, but then he noticed something interesting. The two boys ran into a religious order woman. Rudely, they ran on, but something of the woman struck him as odd. She proceeded up the aisle towards a confessional. The boys made a larger commotion and Kreitan let his attention slip for a moment. When he glanced back, the woman was gone.
Where…? He scanned the neighboring area. Kreitan found no other religious order women anywhere else in the church. Usually they traveled in small, unified clusters of other sisters or at least within a crowd of pilgrims. This one had been alone.
This could be his woman, but he had to play his cards carefully. She had slipped through his grasp before, had even broken the bond of his box spirit. He needed to capture her without conflict or the game would be lost.
Slowly, he moved from the balcony, planning his next move.
***
“We need to go do something?” Snow paced, getting impatient with all this talk. The spell had worn off and she was a little more than irritable.
Ynob took a moment and finished off his tea. “And what should we be doing?”
“Well gee, I don’t know. Maybe planning a rescue!”
“And how are you going to get to the human side?” The wizard asked as he inspected his fingernails.
Snow stopped abruptly. “Um, well. Can’t you pop us over there? Like poof, one minute we’re here and the next, over there? Snow grasped for anything that sounded reasonable.
The wizard stared at her. “Pop? Let me see if I brought my magical popper. Oh it must be in my other robes. Silly me.” He threw his hands up in mock exasperation.
“You know what I mean,” Snow said through gritted teeth, restraining herself from throttling him.
“And
you do not know what I mean. Teleporting, or popping, as you put it, is very high-end and specified magic. Distance and location are very key to it. Plus, I cannot take others with me.”
“Well, I will have to find a way to get to the human side.” Snow moved toward Ynob threateningly.
“Snow, calm down.” Hambone moved forward so he could be a barrier in between her and the wizard.
“No, I’m done with talk. If he doesn’t want to help rescue Kara, then I am going on my own.”
Schunk. Snow suddenly changed and bolted out the door. Hambone and Dante watched in amazement and then glanced toward the wizard. He showed no sign of action.
Schunk. Dante was next out the door. “Sis? Come back here!” he hollered.
Hambone again turned towards the wizard. Ynob appeared unfazed by the exits. “Why did you even come here, if you weren’t going to help us?”
“Help? I am here to find out about the necklace.”
Hambone took a step toward the door and then turned back. “I think you are scared. Scared to go back to the human side. Scared of this midnight core. Scared of any action. I feel sorry for you.” And out the door he went.
Shock and outrage displayed on the wizard’s face. No one ever talked to him in such a manner before in his life.
Grace twittered something to Ynob, as she too went to follow the group.
“You agree? What kind of nonsense is this?” He stood now. “I don’t have to stay here and take this.”
The sprite circled around and came almost nose-to-nose with wizard. Her sprite-speak was slow and determined. A hint of red colored her aura as she told the wizard off. She quickly departed after having her say.
Ynob remained, holding back his words. He stared at the door for a long while and then walked around the room. The anger had drained from him, his spirit crushed.
He too made his way out of the house, closing the door behind him.
***
Katrena had been too concerned about her binding spell on Kara to be paying attention to her own surroundings when the boys ran into her. She felt her disguise spell shimmer momentarily, but it did not break. Her composure remained. There was a throwing dagger with their names on it, but she suppressed the urge, took in a deep breath. Maybe if all came out favorably she would find the two boys and teach them a lesson.
As she made her way up the aisle, Katrena glanced toward the old woman, Kara. Tears glittered in her eyes, which made the dark elf feel no remorse. The church had its usual contingency of people, but she had not spotted Kreitan yet. It was possible that he was already in the meeting place, but she wasn’t sure. Something about the church felt different to her but she could not quite figure it out. Had the captain planned a trap? She would have to be on her guard.
Quickly, she ducked inside the usual confessional. Before ever rendezvousing with Kreitan the first time, she’d scouted out the best meeting places and discovered this confessional had a secret door on the penitent side. Katrena had used it twice before to escape the captain. She expected to use it this time too.
She knew Kreitan had power issues, and he really hated being subservient to a woman. Katrena, on the other hand, loved this flaw in him. She did her best to anger him during their meetings, which is why she had to escape the one time when he attacked her with a mind wraith. It was only because of a momentary slip-up on the captain’s part that she was able to escape.
Someone entered the other side of the confessional. Was it her contact or just a human sinner? She waited. Silence answered her. A rising alarm sang in her mind, making her scalp prickle with danger. Katrena’s instincts told her to run, while her pride said she was ready for anything. She waited.
“Hello, my dear. I see you received my note.” Kreitan chuckled.
Katrena crinkled her eyes, distracted by a little ball that rolled to her side from the prayer ledge. It rolled to the edge and fell, landing at her feet with a small shatter.
“Ta-ta for now.” A laugh came from the captain.
Katrena looked down at the broken ball. Tufts of green vapor rose and wafted under her nose. Her eyes widened with recognition. Sleeping venom.
Katrena felt her skin begin to tingle and then numb. The venom smoke surrounded her, the air now polluted with the gas. She reached for the secret latch but her fingers fumbled. Trying again, they wouldn’t respond. The muscles were asleep. Tiny pinpricks danced throughout her body, absorbing all.
The door to the confessional sprang open; Kreitan’s legs straddled the threshold. Her legs gave out beneath her, and Katrena felt herself slide to the floor. His self-satisfied smirk was the last thing she saw. Sleep claimed her.
***
Kara watched the guards surround the confessional. She was pretty sure Katrena had gone in there. Who else would cause this much commotion in church? It was hard to see from where she sat. Soon pilgrims gathered to see what was going on.
A man dressed in black came out of the confessional, his face held a smile. Kara gasped. It was the same man she’d seen at her house torturing her father. What was he doing here? Had he arranged for Kara’s kidnapping?
Two guards carried Katrena’s limp form down the aisle. Was she dead? Were they coming to grab her next? The rest of the guard followed, save for the man in black who stood and looked over the church. Was he searching for her?
He locked eyes with Kara, but she quickly looked away. Kreitan stared at her for what seemed to be an eternity. Then his boots were clicking and hissing down the aisle, following his men.
Kara breathed easily, yet still at a loss to explain what had happened.
Be still.
What? The voice had returned. When Kara jerked at the sound, she noticed that she could move one leg a little and some fingers. Her spell bond must be slowly weakening. But how much longer until she could run out of here?
I will help you, Kara.
Who are you? She wanted to speak, but the spell held her tongue. She was only able to communicate in her mind. The voice still answered back.
Rose. Please trust me. You are not alone.
***
Tyr dragged Jesset by the hair to a private torturing area. He said nothing during the whole process. Once he had Jesset shackled, Tyr left.
With the pain subsiding, Jesset came back to the image of Kirt in a cell. Not dead, after all. If he had only known before trying to escape, maybe his plan would have worked.
Minutes later Tyr returned chuckling.
“Very good.” His impossibly deep voice filled every particle in Jesset’s body with fear.
“W-what?” Why would the torturer be complimenting him?
“We left them in the cell.” Tyr commented as he inspected a few of this room’s décor accessories. A variety of whips, as well as a few similar items Jesset wasn’t sure he could classify as whips, hung from a nearby wall. A table tucked in a corner held miscellaneous bladed instruments.
Tyr decided upon a very used-looking cat-o’-nine-tails. The leather held bloodstains all along each strap, some darker than others. The dungeon master inspected the metal bits tied into one of the lengths. Some looked shiny and new, while others were beginning to rust.
Jesset had only once made pieces for something like this. He remembered the rough scraps of metal he pounded out flat and to a point for the customer. After completing only enough for one strap, his heart was not in it and he had dismissed the not-so-happy customer.
“No animal can get in this room with the door shut. So we will have no interruptions.”
Raw terror wracked the Mordock. The huge dungeon keeper turned toward him, the weapon gripped tightly in one hand.
A smile cracked Tyr’s stony face. It conveyed delight, but it was not a sentiment Jesset shared. The torchlight danced upon black skin, giving Tyr a demonic aura. This visage did nothing to help calm Jesset. Plans were gone; all hope given up. He had failed.
“Please! I haven’t done anything!” A last desperate plea, one that would not suffice.
Tyr raised the weapon high. “Neither have I. Yet,” he said. He swung the whip with the force of a hurricane. Jesset flinched, turning his face away, offering his side for penance. Seven of the nine straps struck and did their intended business. Jesset felt each jagged piece tear at his flesh. His once good shoulder now sang out with pain—far more than the throwing dagger had inflicted.
A wrenching cry came from deep within him, possibly from his soul. The ache spiked. Agony like he had never known before. And so far, he had endured only one lash from the weapon.
Tyr’s smile grew. A look of satisfaction crossed his face. He drew back the whip again.
Jesset knew another strike was coming, even though he did not watch the dungeon keeper deliver it. But mid-swing there came a pounding on the door that distracted Tyr with his aim. Only three straps connected, and not at full force. Still, the pain was intense; the new wounds cried out as harshly as the first.
“Master Tyr!”
Tyr threw down his weapon and wrenched open the cell door. “What?” The guard before him cowered but then quickly delivered his message.
“Mackroy has escaped his cell! And someone has lit fires in three of the empty cells!” The guard tried his best to regain his composure.
“How?”
“A master key is still missing. One of the Witch Guard had it on him when they went to visit one of the prisoners. We are not sure where it is.” He stopped a moment, took in a breath before delivering more news. “Mackroy also grabbed a sword and…and…” The guard shuddered. Tyr stepped up to him. One hand shot out and pinned the man by the throat against the wall.
“Watch this prisoner. I will take care of the situation.” Tyr stormed off, and left the wide-eyed guard to supervise Jesset.
The man watched the dungeon master go, trembling slightly. Quickly the soldier ducked into the cell, looking at Jesset. Behind the man, someone else appeared but Jesset couldn’t see who it was.
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