Heir to a Lost Sun

Kara

KARA

Kara stood combing her hair on the second-floor balcony of the Golden Keg tavern, enjoying the last few minutes of quiet before her shift. The early evening was so peaceful; she could watch the ships come in, their hulls lit by phosphorescent bacterial colonies growing among the stalactites on the cavern roof. A horn blew from the quartermaster's tower, echoing like music off the wet stone walls of the cavern. A goods-laden cog broke ranks from the others and rowed toward the dock.

Beyond the harbor, the bacteria grew over parts of the vast dormant-stalagmite citadel—the capital city of the caverns, Stelemia. The glowing city towered over the enormous cavern, a primordial monolith carved into houses, stores, taverns and at the very pinnacle, the Halls of the Priest King. It reflected off the smooth, black surface of Crystal Lake and attracted silver fish from the lightless depths to the surface to bask in its reflected radiance.

Kara had lived her twenty years of life within sight of that spire. Her life, like that of her mother's, her mother's and her mother's beyond count, had been lived in the cold, dark depths of the Caverns of Stelemia—a vast system of caves lit by bacteria and electric sacred lights, built in an age only spoken of in children's tales and ancient, tattered tomes in dusty reliquaries.

In the caverns, life clung to the light, for beyond it, there was only death.

The sacred light across the street flickered once and then died, plunging the street into darkness.

Kara stopped combing her hair and watched the other lights further up the street. If another went out, they would be in trouble.

When the others remained lit, she leaned over the railing to call to the door boy. "Olly, set some torches at the entrance so patrons can find their way inside."

Olly walked out onto the street and looked up at her. "That's the second one to go out this past month and the Order hasn't even fixed the first one."

"They will; have faith," she replied.

He grumbled and went to get some torches.

Berda called to her from inside the tavern, "Kara dear, hurry up. Your shift is about to start."

Kara straightened her bangs. "I'll be right there."

Kara took one last look at the ships, savoring her last breath of fresh air, then went inside. Berda met her at the top of the stairs leading down to the bar. The crone ran her wrinkled hands down Kara's face, then squeezed her breasts and buttocks and nodded in satisfaction. "That new gown fits perfectly." She kissed Kara on the cheek. "You should make a fine penny tonight."

"Yes madam," Kara replied, and looked down at her dyed pink-and-orange gown. It was low-cut and revealing and had cost her two week's wages. Men found Kara beautiful with the dress on or without it.

"Smile girl, you're not some ninny that's yet to lose her maidenhead."

"Sorry madam."

By the time she was halfway down the stairs, Kara had assumed her flirty, boisterous persona and was prepared for a long night entertaining the tavern's patrons. When she entered the noisy taproom she took three flagons of ale from the old barman. "Who ordered them?"

He pointed toward three men-at-arms with yellow mushroom insignias on their vests identifying them as soldiers in service to House Mawborne. They sat around a table, rolling dice.

"Watch yourself out there, girl," the barman said. "There's a funny feeling in the air tonight."

"You said that once before and nothing happened. If I recall, it was a good night all round."