Legend of Kataria (Draft Version)

Chapter 5

Lightning flashed. Rain pattered hard against the stained glass windows and thunder shook the rafters. Inside the castle, the rooms were still and the halls were dark. One might joke that the castle presented more like a dungeon or abandoned asylum. But no one within its walls was laughing, for a temper-tantrum of the king was no laughing matter.

"KATRO!" a thunderous voice rose above the growling storm. Guards from all across the premises winced, pitying the man who had been called by the bellow and breathing a silent prayer of thanks that it hadn't been them.

The unfortunate general, however, hurried down the stone passageway, his face paler than death, his hands shaking and clammy. Several observers shot him pitying looks as he passed and then continued on their way, a bit more hastily than before. They all wished to evacuate the area before Morto blew a fuse and brought the entire city to smithereens.

He reached a door near the end of the hall and paused before knocking, his hand hovering millimeters away from the knob. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what was to follow.

"KATRO!" the voice bellowed again, more fiercely than before.

He opened his eyes and cautiously stepped into the dark room. "Sire?" he spoke quietly into the darkness. "You asked for me?" He squinted, struggling to differentiate between the walls and the inanimate objects scattered throughout the room.

Soomewhere amid the clutter, the king was waiting.

"Indeed." A hiss seemed to echo from the back of the room. There was slight movement and a tall dark-haired man stepped forward into the light. His outfit could be considered medieval: black shirt, black jeans, black shoes, and, for some reason, a black cape. A dark twisted crown rested on top of his head. The man was the spitting image of someone who was up to no good. Katro couldn't help but cringe slightly at the king's tone. He knew the news must have been poor, for that would be the only reason for the anger displayed now.

"Tell me, how goes the hunt for Russian Blue and his team of children?" The king's eyes flashed furiously. It was clear that he already knew the answer, but had not been satisfied to only hear it only once.

"Er...the reports are...not...sterling. And..by that I mean...they got away."

"What?" The whisper sounded more like a million warning sirens in Katro's worrisome mind. "I sent an entire guard...to dispose of three teenagers! Three! And your men couldn't even do that right? Pathetic."

Anger flared up in Katro's brain. "It wasn't their fault!" he argued, forgetting who it was he was talking to. Morto glared at him warningly, but he went on. "We were not prepared for a full-scale attack! Sure, we had anticipated a bit of trouble from them, but their...their technology...it was far more advanced than anything we've ever experienced!"

Morto glowered. "They are children, General. Weak. Stupid. Children. You had them in your grasp and yet, you let them slip through your--through my--fingers. Again. Your failure will not go unpunished." He turned and began to melt back into the shadows. "Leave me," he ordered. "I have more pressing matters to attend to."

Katro bowed slightly and readied to leave. He paused as he reached for the doorknob."Sire?"

"What is it, General?"

"The boy..." Katro could hear his voice wavering. "Have you made any progress?"

Morto turned slowly back around and eyed Katro with distaste. "I can hardly see how that would be any of your concern."

Immediately, Katro realized he'd made a mistake and over-stepped his bounds. "I do apologize, Your Highness," he went on nervously. "I meant no disrespect. Only..." He stopped himself now. The king did not want to hear his pitiful excuses. He had demanded an answer. Now that Katro had no way out, he had to continue. "King Zarron has...deceived...you before."

"And what's your point?" A voice of ice. Katro was treading a very fine line.

"With all respects, Sire, how do you know that this is not another trick? A ruse to lure you out of your castle and away from safety?"

Morto actually seemed to take a moment to consider this. But the look only lasted a second, replaced almost immediately by cruel hate and loathing. "Zarron is a blind fool," he snarled, "but even he wouldn't take the risk. No, if his son is here, I do believe he is no more certain of his location than we are. In which case, the odds continue to favor us."

Katro frowned. "In what way, Sire?"

"Zarron can hardly show his face here, can he?" the king responded, moving away from his general now, toward his desk and, more accurately, the crystal orb hovering inches above it. "No, he can't," Morto went on, answering his own question. "Which is why I will find the prince first. Those visionary fools may have tried to hide him away, but the child is more like Zarron than they know. Katro!"

"Y-yes Sire?"

"What is the date?"

"A-April 30th?"

Morto smiled. It sent chills running up and down Katro's spine. "Perfect. He'll be reaching his seventeenth birthday soon." Katro looked confused. Morto sighed. "Clearly no one has thought to indulge you in Tapushian culture, General. It is a well-known fact that a Tapushian comes of age on their seventeenth birthday."

"Meaning, Your Highness?"

"Meaning, the boy will be starting to discover his powers. And once he has, that is how we track him."

Katro blinked. "Sire?"

The king moved away from the crystal orb and pressed a button behind his desk. The lights in the room dimmed even further and a 3D hologram of the continent flickered into existence. Katro recognized the shimmering outline of the cities and what caught his eye were the small red beacons scattered across the map, flashing on and off in synchronized timing. "What...what is all...this?" he questioned, gesturing to the blips.

"These are all the Tapushians living among us," Morto replied. "Some are here to avoid war, others don't even know who they are, but most are part of the resistance. They don't think we know where they are. But what they don't realize is that their powers are traceable."

"But...Your Majesty!" Katro protested. "If you knew where the resistance was this entire time, why play this whole cat-and-mouse game? Why not crush them in one fell swoop? I have men. I can go up to the mountains and deal with them myself..."

Morto held up his hand. "No. I have a better plan. We let them think they've got the upper hand. Just until they lead us to the prince. And then, General, you can crush them. For now, however, ready your men. It won't be long now."

Katro nodded, bowing slightly. "Of course, Sire." He turned sharply and just about ran to the door.

"General!"

Katro froze, centimeters from the door. "Yes, Your Majesty?" He slowly pivoted to face the king once more.

Morto was staring at him, eyes blazing in disgust and fury. His face was twisted into an expression of hatred. "Find the boy," he ordered icily, "and when you find him, bring him to me. Do what you want to those fools protecting him, but I want the prince alive."