Page 10 of Crowned A Traitor
Klara checked the corridor for any onlookers, and closed the door as quietly as she could, but the sound of the bolts sealing would alert any Ogres on the second floor.
The maggot covered portrait of Dorian Grey led Klara to her sky room in the west wing tower. Stepping through the portrait was a much quicker route since she didn't have the strength to climb twenty flights of stairs. Without her heart, her energy was dissipating, and she still needed to get through the Fall to Hell.
Candles lit as Klara stepped through the portrait into her bare room. Klara eyed the wardrobe desperately wanting a change of clothes, but it was only full of the dresses Eve had tried to bribe Klara with that Klara had never worn. Klara laid her axe on the small standing desk by the door. There was no chair because Lilith said that slouching over books would destroy her posture and affect her training. The restless Hounds jumped onto her large bed and lay watching her. It was getting late in Hell, and they were probably eager to return to their siblings. Klara slipped off her clothes and reefed open a floorboard to find the clothes she had stolen from Lilith.
Klara tossed her ruined dungarees to the corner of her room and pulled a pair of black trousers over her toned thighs, thick from hours of training. "Sweet Judas," she cried out as she pulled a jumper on over her bloodied t-shirt.
She needed to fit in once she got to Hell, and bright colours even red would give her away as someone important. Klara crisscrossed the harness over her jacket and slid her axe into the straps at her back.
"Get off you mangy mutts," Klara said as the Hounds tried to lick her face as she sat on the floor and pulled her boot laces taut. They barked as Klara lifted the corner of another floorboard revealing a small collection of silver coins,should be enough to keep me covered.Klara placed the small pouch in her pocket, knowing she wouldn't be able to get back to her gems at the crossroads for a while.
The long mirror on the wall mocked Klara as her slick straight hair shone in an array of colours exposing her failing magic. "What should we go for?" Klara asked the Hounds, and they tilted their heads in confusion. She ran a hand over her hair, and platinum white cascaded from root to tip. Her Father hated white hair; only Angels wore such a colour, a colour he had mudded.
Klara could feel the Hounds’ unease, "think I'm playing with fire?" She asked, and one of the Hounds placed a paw over his snout, and Klara knew that meant yes.
"Good!" Klara knew the risk was too high and stripped her hair to black.
I think we have procrastinated long enough, Klara stared out the empty archway that sat in the stonewall. At this height, the mountains and ocean seemed peaceful. Klara turned her back and rested her heels over the edge of the drop. The wind hit her back, as the Hounds watched Klara take a deep breath and raise her arms. She pictured the gates of Hell, rusted iron rods each coming to a sharp point. She remembered the scorching heat and took a step back, embracing the Fall.
~4~
Blood red clouds appeared as the Fall burnt the air from Klara’s lungs. The closer she got to the ground, the slower she fell until finally landing with a thud. “Glad to be back,” Klara groaned, looking at the lava trying to break through the bed rock.
The hot stones burnt Klara’s palms as she came face to face with the gates to her Father’s Manor situated above his Kingdom. The searing heat below her tired body forced Klara to her feet. Klara heard the scrape of nails and drew her axe only to see her Hounds padding over to her, both unfazed by the Fall to Hell.
“Glad to see you made it,” Klara huffed as they joined her side.
Klara walked towards the spiked gates, hesitating as the crackling lava beneath the rocks reminded her, she was no longer in the Forest. The gates towered above her, and to touch them would burn through a few layers of skin. Only those granted access would pass through unburnt.
The heat crawled through her layers, so Klara removed her jacket and tightened the buckles at the front of the harness, securing her axe in place. It had been years since Klara’s last visit, and even that felt too soon. The sky rumbled, and Klara felt her hair change. “Should have brought a wig,” Klara said, running her fingers through her new red lengths.
Klara thought she would have enough magic left to stop her hair from changing until after she had seen her Father. Klara paced back and forth as she found the energy to strip it back to black.
“Maybe Father won’t be too mad?” Klara asked the Hounds, and they turned their gaze to the gates.
Klara thought about the pile of gems waiting for her,accept his punishment, get back and run. Soon there will be no more Hell, Queens, or inheritance.Hell’s air was pungent and thick as she tried to take a deep breath. At the centre of the bound gates sat her Father’s emblem, a pitchfork embedded on a shield identical to the one that bound the armoury doors in Malum together.
The Hounds sniffed the air for enemies, clearly nervous about being without their invisibility glamour. Klara considered restoring the glamour, but she needed to know where they were in case, she needed them.
“Sorry guys,” Klara said as the Hounds searched the outskirts of Hell’s Maze surrounding them. Klara placed her hand against the shield and hissed as the metal froze her palm while an enemy would have been burnt.
Klara kept her hand still as a thick needle pierced her palm, without her heart, the pain shot up her arm. A small whine came from one of the Hounds as they checked she was okay. Klara offered them a stiff smile as the hole in her palm struggled to heal.
The gates to the Manor opened with a series of clanks and screeches. As soon as she set foot onto the property, Demons appeared in a cloud of smoke. Klara opened her mouth to speak, but pitchforks shot to her throat. “Easy,” Klara said as her Hounds growled at the sudden threat.
“Nice to see you too,” Klara said, holding up her hands. “Not the welcome I was expecting.”
The Demons looked to one another as Klara showed no signs of fear.
“You might want to put those down, who knows what the Heir is capable of after all this time.” The circle of Demons broke apart as Klara saw a head of slick-backed hair.
“Frendall,” Klara said coldly as her old friend approached her and the Demons lowered their weapons. “Klara,” Frendall replied. The realization hit Klara in the gut, the three scars on Frendall’s left cheek meant he was now a King’s Commander. He was also taller than the Lesser Demons with their slouched posture and beady eyes.
“Quiet,” Frendall ordered, and the Hounds ceased growling. Klara caught his smug wink as she looked him over.
“Nice scars,” Klara held his gaze, reminding him of her superiority. “I had to do something while you were off hiding in Malum.”
Klara resisted the urge to laugh. She wasn’t going to fight with him with so many eyes watching them.
