Free Kara by Scott J. Kramer

made of copper, gold, and silver carved into an ornate
serpent.
    La’ard’s heart soared, looking upon the door,
stained with miners’ blood. At last, something that broke the
monotony of ruling. Perhaps this tomb would make history. His
legacy could be greater than that of any previous ruler, including
his father, King Longshanks.
    Whispers of ‘magic’ passed among the miners
and soon infected the king’s soldiers. La’ard detested magic, and
like his father before him, he did not surround himself with
warlocks and wizards. On a deeper level, he feared the conjured
arts. Not only because it fed the superstitions of his subjects and
reduced their productivity, but also because such men controlled
too much power, power that only a king should have.
    Established to rein in this threat, the Witch
Guard collected magical items for the palace’s vault. They
imprisoned anyone who had the smallest inclination towards the
‘dark arts,’ and fed the fear-hate of magic among the common folk.
They only allowed spooks to live.
    Spooks were novice magicians or anyone
accused of practicing magic. When caught, their tongues were cut
out. They were then force-fed hot embers, which scarred their
throats and vocal cords so no coherent word could be spoken. Spooks
communicated through writing. A warlock was nothing without the
gift of speech.
    La’ard motioned a spook forward. “We must
open that door,” he commanded. “See what must be done.”
    Minutes later Kreitan handed his king the
spook’s assessment. There was definitely magic around and in the
tomb, he’d written. Stronger alchemy than he’d ever seen before.
La’ard was leery of this but still longed for the adventure,
something more than just sitting in the throne. He would forego his
hatred of magic for a chance to become great.
    For most of a month, the spooks studied and
inspected the door. Through that time, seven died. Four like the
previous miners’ insanity, two with a horrendous disease that came
on quickly. The suffering lasted many, long agonizing days. Lastly,
one spook burst into flames when he took a hammer and cracked off a
serpent’s tooth.
    This last spook made the difference, even
though he was ash. A crack in the seal appeared. A crack meant hope
in opening the tomb, a crack in the enchantment. Eventually, the
rest of the sealing magic broke, although not before claiming two
more spooks.
    La’ard commanded the spooks to pull open the
doors to test whether the enchantment still existed. Kreitan
entered the tomb carrying a lit torch, followed by La’ard and his
band of nervous soldiers.
    The torch light flickered off the walls of
the gigantic room, a room large enough to contain the king’s
courtroom. The ceiling, carved with symbols and archetypes, towered
ten feet above them. A throne, or what appeared to be a throne,
rested dead center on a raised platform of three elongated steps a
few feet from the back wall.
    Kreitan ordered torches mounted on the walls
lit, and soon fire light flashed over everything. La’ard stood on
an ancient tapestry rug, that pictured a lion and a dragon locked
in combat, and surveyed the room. All objects in the room were
perfectly preserved and free from dust. Even the dirt the men
tracked in with them did not show. This intensified La’ard’s uneasy
feeling.
    Once the room brightened, its treasures made
themselves known. The throne was solid gold, except for red gems
encased in the arms and seat back. When the light struck the
rubies, the gold appeared bloody. Many of the soldiers shied away
from it.
    In one corner weapons, armor, and the like
hung on the wall, freshly polished, ready for battle. An ancient
oak chest stood hidden deep in a corner opposite the weapons. This
huge chest, easily the size of seven men, remained deep in the
shadows even with a torch blazing nearby. Crafted of iron and wood,
a large key lock held the lid closed. Several men approached the
mysterious chest, yet few gained the nerve to