3 weeks later.
Tira wrapped treated bandages around the limbs of the badly burned girl. She could smell the acrid stench of her wounds as the child moaned in pain. Her grieving father sat beside her, "My poor Nita," he sobbed. "Our home…ruined by Madame Vinson."
"Who's she?" Tira asked.
"The ruler of Barea. She destroyed our home because we wanted our children to go to school here." He took his daughter's hand in his. "Please tell me that she's going to be alright."
"She has second and third degree burns, but she'll live," the pink haired girl replied with quiet faith..
It was more of the same and getting worse. The three sorcerers who ruled the city states bordering the Restoration Place had begun to persecute their citizens who supported Padre Bran's ministry. Many were rendered homeless and forced to live in tents on the Restoration property. Tira, along with the rest of his staff, could barely keep up with the mounting needs: feeding and caring for the sick and injured.
"Miss Tira, Padre Bran needs to see you in his study," an older nun informed her.
"Thank you, sister."
Minutes later, she joined Bran, Simon Budh, and Sister Hope in the main study. Several old books and manuscripts sat on tall shelves.
"The situation is getting desperate," Simon told them. "The persecution is getting more violent, people are dying."
"These sorcerers are quite merciless," Bran agreed. "But we've got to turn the other cheek."
"We've turned it way too many times," Budh argued respectfully. "The bloodshed must stop, the slaughter of innocents….the line must be drawn here!"
He pounded his fist into his hand for emphasis.
"I'm a non violent man," the priest said softly. "The protection of the Restoration place is your onus, Haz Knight. What do you propose?"
"Establishing a team of our best fighters and attempting to fight back against these sorcerers."
"That's suicide," spoke Sister Hope. "Normal weapons are nothing compared to those who can wield magic."
"What do you think, Tira?" Simon asked.
Tira's eyes narrowed to slits behind her mirrored glasses. She wanted revenge for little Nita getting burned. Perhaps she and Simon could pay each an individual visit. If the first was punished, then the other two may back off.
Carrot showed his locket to the local parson in the town of Dolomite.
"No, I've not seen that girl. Pretty, if you ask me. Were you close?" the minister asked him.
"Like family," the black haired teenager replied. "She's been gone almost two months now. I thought maybe to ask if you'd seen her pass through here."
"Sorry I couldn't be more of a help, young man. Good luck in your search."
Carrot sighed and left the building. He barely noticed the many pretty girls that passed him on the sidewalk, his heart looking for the one who mattered. Someone bumped into him from behind then sprinted away.
"Hey watch it!" Carrot called after him. A second later he discovered he had been relieved of his locket. The other had gotten a decent head start and had the advantage since he was a local and knew where he was going. None of that mattered to Carrot Glace. His sprint could have won the Olympic medal, his determination matched his anger. Moments later, the sorcerer hunter tackled the thief in a dark allet. They fell to the pavement, Carrot mounted the perp and rained down furious punches.
"You stinkin' lowlife!" he bellowed as the person could not protect himself from the onslaught. It was like trying to hold back a raging river. The aggressor did not stop until the kid lay motionless, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. After retrieving his locket, Carrot gave him the middle finger them stormed off.
Later that evening, he sat in a dark, dingy bar nursing a glass of cheap wine. His three week search had turned up nothing; he had traveled a thousand miles looking for any sign that would lead him to Tira. No one had seen her and he was running out of money. Everywhere, it seemed, led to a dead end.
"A penny for your thoughts," the bartender spoke from his position behind the bar.
Carrot noticed that the place was empty, he had been there from opening to closing.
"Trust me, you'd go broke," was the young man's reply.
"Okay, an unlimited tab, then?"
"I should be so lucky," Carrot said dismally.
"Let me guess, girl trouble?" the bartender took a glass and wiped it with a dish towel.
"Does it show?"
"Like a sore thumb."
"Hey, I like shooting the breeze as much as the next guy, but that won't help me find her."
"Who pray tell?"
Carrot stood and walked over to the bar. He figured to may as well give it a shot.
"Look pal, two months ago, a teammate of mine walked out on me. It's probably pointless, but have you seen her?"
He pulled out the locket from his pocket and showed it to the other. The bar keep squinted at the image, blew on his glass, then wiped it down again. "I may have."
"When?" he had the young man's undivided attention.
The older man just stared back in silence, sizing Carrot up. Desperately the tank topped youth grabbed the mixologist by the shirt collar. "Please man! Answer me!"
"Frankly, I don't think you're worthy of her, cute little gal like that, skirt chasing pervert like you."
"You've five seconds to tell me," threatened Carrot.
"Or what? You'll kill me?"
"Look man, you're the one who wanted to talk! So what's your friggin' problem now?"
He loosened his grip, then tried to smooth over the wrinkled shirt. "I'll pay you!" He pulled out several gold coins.
"I'll tell you what you want to know if you give me the locket."
"She gave it to me as a present, no deal."
The bartender stood pat. "Hand it over."
Carrot nodded his head in the negative.
"You want some memento that just gives painful memories or a chance to find her, Mr Glace?"
"How'd you know my name?" Carrot asked, stunned.
"Enough chit chat. Gimme the locket."
Begrudgingly, he handed it to the barkeep. Once it touched his skin, the light image inside swirled and glowed. Replacing the previous one, a new image formed, that of Tira holding a sickly child. He saw an old priest in the background and recognized him as Padre Bran.
"So…that's where she is," Carrot spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Where's he located now?"
"Go west, young man," smiled the bartender.
He regarded his benefactor with a look of reverence. "I am grateful to you, kind sir."
"I just hope you're worth it," the other told him.
"Trust me, I've seen the light!"
The older man smiled at the double meaning. Carrot turned to leave. "Mr Glace?"
"Yes sir?"
The locket was tossed back to its owner. "Consider this one on the house!"
The sorcerer hunter waved at the man then ran out of the bar, as giddy as a schoolboy.
He arrived in Cornith late the next day, having borrowed a horse and ridden all day long. A sign erected by Count Crisco welcomed travelers. He didn't know anything about the ruler, nor did he care to. His only concern was to find Tira and make amends. The rigorous journey had made him very hungry, though, so he found a small diner. The waitress seated him in a corner both and he ordered a club sandwich.
A very familiar laugh filled the air. Tira, wearing a yellow sundress walked in the diner followed by a tall muscular individual. They were laughing and joking about something.
Caught of guard, he grabbed his menu and put it in front of his face, praying that they would not take a place nearby. He sighed in relief after several moments when they were seated several tables away.
He snuck a peek at her, she looked different, more like her transformed self. She seemed lesss shy and reserved, more like the sensuous vixen her sister portrayed.
Moreover, he saw the way she related to her companion, the way she looked at him and he at her: much like a couple in love. Carrot stared hard at the man, only imagining what was on his mind. Probably the same thing that crossed all men's minds every ninety seconds or so.
In his quest to find her, he had never really thought about what he might say to her once they were reunited. The apologies he had offered at the bench when she left had done nothing to change her mind. He did not have a rehearsed spiel to give her. If he made a scene right now, he would probably lose her forever.
"Can I get you anything else, sir?" the waitress asked.
"Naw thanks, here's some money for my meal and that couple over there. Just make sure I remain anonymous."
"Thank you, sir."
As he left the restaurant, Carrot pounded his fist into his hand. "Who the hell is that clown?" he said aloud to himself. "And what does she see in him?"