Alora: The Portal Read online

  Alora:

  The Portal

  Book Two of the Alora Series

  by

  Tamie Dearen

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author. To the extent any real names of individuals, locations, businesses or organizations are included in the book, they are used fictitiously and not intended to be taken otherwise.

  Alora: The Portal

  by Tamie Dearen

  Copyright © 2015

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means now known or hereafter invented, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Cover design by StunningBookCovers.com

  Dedication

  To Bruce… I knew you were my soulmate when you first kissed me at the suspension bridge. Thanks for giving me a life beyond what I ever imagined.

  Acknowledgements

  First, I want to thank all my beta readers for your invaluable feedback. You’ll never know how much I appreciated the time you gave to read and provide insights and suggestions. You are now an integral part of Alora. Thank you Stunning Book Covers for working so hard to make a visual image of what’s inside my head. Thanks also to my professional editor for your meticulously detailed work. Thanks to my awesome final editor and formatter. To my family and friends who supported me in my writing… you rock!

  I’d also like to express my gratitude to the cover model, Aurora Vigna. Thank you for bringing Alora to life!

  Once naïve and raw, the ore

  Dredged from out its sleep

  Fiery furnace, burning core

  Tears of slag will weep

  Pounding hammer on the bloom

  Flouts the mercy bade

  Innocence has met its doom

  To a weapon made.

  ~ Prologue ~

  He almost jumped out of his skin as a voice behind him interrupted his concentrated efforts.

  “My name is Bastaeno, and I’m the custodian of manuscripts here at the Craedenza. Do you need some guidance or interpretation?” The kind-faced man gazed down as he spoke, eyeing the stacks of scrolls and parchments splayed across the table in disarray.

  “No,” the boy replied, dismissing him without a second glance.

  “I’m gifted in language, so perhaps I can be of aid.”

  “No, I’m gifted in language as well, but thank you for your offer.” He continued to study the scroll with the strange markings, unwilling to admit he couldn’t read the words.

  “Eh-hem… That particular scroll has yet to be deciphered by any of our scholars, even the most gifted in intelligence and language. Yet you understand the words recorded?”

  He hesitated. “No, I don’t, but I can read all of these other scrolls.” He lifted his chin, glaring in defiance.

  “That’s quite remarkable for such a young man. How many years have you?”

  “I have eighteen years.”

  Bastaeno lifted his brows. “Eighteen years? You are even younger than I imagined. So you came into your major power only two years ago. Am I correct? And already you can understand these challenging writings? You are extremely gifted, young man. Is your father gifted in language as well? Or wisdom?”

  “No, he’s gifted in weapons and strength, as is my brother.”

  “How extraordinary. He must be quite proud of you… so accomplished having so few years.”

  The young man ducked his head to hide the heat in his face. “Not really. My father believes language isn’t a particularly useful gift because we’ve already learned all there is to know from the scrolls and parchments stored at the Craedenza.”

  Bastaeno let out a belly laugh. “Of course he is jesting. After all these years, we are only scratching the surface of the knowledge within these walls. Everyone in Tenavae knows that. Your father approved for you to come and study here, did he not? That must mean he wishes you to grow and enhance your giftedness. Am I right?”

  Knowing he’d left on his quest without his father’s permission, the young man avoided the question. “How did you know I traveled to the Craedenza?”

  “Glaenshire is a small community.” Bastaeno shrugged. “Have you traveled far? And have you a place to stay? My wife and I have a small abode, but you are welcome to stay with us while you study the scrolls.”

  “You didn’t see my eyes, or you wouldn’t offer such a thing. I am Water Clan.”

  Bastaeno squinted at his face in the candlelight. “Blue eyes—so they are! I’ve seen very few Water Clansmen in my days. Well met, young man! Well met!”

  Bastaeno grasped his hand and shook with such vigor his shoulder protested the assault.

  “Well met,” he mumbled, extricating his hand.

  “Although most clansmen distrust one another, we believe differently here. In Glaenshire, few of us are gifted in weapons or dexterity, and therefore we aren’t prone to battle one another. Most of us are scholars, gifted in wisdom and language. We learned long ago the color of a man’s eyes is no indication of value or the intent of the heart.”

  “Your eyes are grey—I’ve never seen grey eyes.”

  “I’m Air Clan, as is my wife. Most of my clan lives very far to the north, in the mountains. Like you, I came to study the manuscripts, but we chose to stay and make our home here. Perhaps you will do the same.”

  “No! I’m going back to Water Clan as soon as I’ve learned all there is to learn at the Craedenza.”

  “No offense intended,” Bastaeno held up his hands. “I simply wished to let you know you’d be welcome in Glaenshire. For the most part, we’re a very peaceful community where people from all clans have lived in harmony for centuries. Perhaps not as peaceful as Serenshire, but a close second for certain.”

  “Serenshire? I thought Serenshire was a myth.”

  “No, indeed. I’ve seen Serenshire with my own eyes. My father took me there when I had but five years.” His eyes glazed as he stared into the dark recesses of the room. “The city of peace. It’s more than a city, in actuality. Beyond the city the countryside stretches as far as one can see.”

  “Can you tell me how to find it?” His heart pounded in his chest. This could be the very discovery he needed to finally impress his father. Surely he would be proud when he returned home having discovered the secret location of Serenshire. No one else in all of Water Clan could accomplish such a feat.

  “Sadly, no.” Bastaeno frowned. “It’s quite complicated to enter Serenshire. You can only find it if you’ve been there before. Though you might be standing an arm’s width from the gate, you won’t see it unless the gatekeeper opens it from within. And even then, your group must be judged worthy to enter.”

  “Worthy?”

  “Yes. You must give valid reason for your visit, and your party must represent all of the clans: Water, Stone, Forest, Air, and Sun. So even should you find the entrance, you wouldn’t be admitted.”

  “I see.” He couldn’t hide his disappointment.

  Bastaeno patted his shoulder. “Come. The sun dips low, and I know you must be weary after your long journey. Rest at my home tonight, for all of these will be awaiting you tomorrow, exactly the same as today and centuries past.” He waved his hand over the vast archives. “What is your name, young traveler?”

  “My name is Drakeon BarVinnasae.”

  “Vinnasae? Is your father the leader of Water Clan?”

  His jaw tightened. “Yes, that’s my father. He calls me Vindrake.”

  ~ 1 ~

  The door burst open, and a gust of wind hit
the lamp flame, throwing wild shadows across the walls of the council room. A young man sprinted into the midst of the circle, halting at the feet of the clan chief, bent over and panting for air, his sandy blond hair escaping from its leather tie.

  “Water Clan! Water Clan is coming!” Jireo spoke between gasps.

  “How many did you see? How far away?” Graely raised his hand to quiet the sudden uproar that broke out in the meeting. His mind raced. It was happening, just as they’d feared. Vindrake and the Water Clansmen he controlled were deadly opponents, but a defense plan was already in place. Would it be effective? Would all of Stone Clan cooperate? How many would be lost in the mêlée to come?

  “They were just outside the Laegenshire forest on the main road. I only saw the first wave on horseback, at least two hundred.”

  “Did we not have scouts guarding the bridge?” Graely asked Morvaen, his weapons master. “How could they come so close undetected?”

  With a grim expression Morvaen shook his head, clomping on heavy boots as he paced. “Yes, we had twenty guards posted. It can’t bode well that not a single one made it back to report the incursion.”

  “I fear they were overcome by some dark trick of Vindrake’s shamans. I should have been there to protect them.” Nordamen tipped his head toward his son. “Bardamen could have handled the defense of Laegenshire in my absence.”

  “You know we need both our shamans to carry out our plan. No doubt we will face more than one Water Clan shaman in the upcoming battle.” Making these decisions weighed heavy on Graely’s shoulders. Every choice seemed to save one life at the expense of another.

  “We’re wasting time.” Bardamen emphasized his words with an urgent tone.

  “Yes, the army is approaching fast on the main road from the south. And they make no sound as they move,” Jireo added.

  “A silence shroud,” said Nordamen. “It takes a powerful shaman to hold silence over so many. They were expecting to surprise us, and we could use that in our favor. Yet I recommend we warn the clan and call in the warriors from the countryside.”

  “Agreed.” Graely cut his eyes to Morvaen.

  With a bob of his chin and a corresponding bounce of the tight black curls on his head, the weapons master moved to open the door, bellowing out, “Sound the horn!” Moments later, a two-toned moan resonated from the courtyard. Faint answering tones could be heard in the distance.

  “Two hundred horseman in the advance group. We can only guess how many Water Clan warriors follow behind. We’ll be outnumbered for certain.” Morvaen spoke as he clomped back across the plank floor.

  “But others will come. At least eight hundred have pledged to defend Laegenshire. They know if Laegenshire falls, all of Stone Clan will be defenseless against Vindrake.” Graely put an assurance in his voice he didn’t quite feel.

  “Yet with so little warning, only the closest have time to join us. If only Alora were here to help.”

  Graely knew Morvaen’s offhand comment wasn’t as innocent as it seemed. He and his weapons master had opposed each other in the council’s discussion concerning how and when Alora’s talents should be utilized. He clenched his jaw until his teeth hurt, but held his peace.

  “Morvaen, there’s no need to rehash this subject,” Nordamen scolded.

  “I know we must protect them at all costs. Yet if Laegenshire is defeated and Stone Clan falls to Vindrake, there will be nothing for Kaevin and Alora to return to.” Morvaen stuck out a stubborn chin.

  “The council debated the risks, and this was their decision. We’re wasting time discussing it now.” Graely didn’t mention what they all knew… his had been the deciding vote to keep Kaevin and Alora hidden away in the other realm until Alora had more control over her powers.

  Morvaen’s lips blanched white with pressure before he turned, striding from the room. “I must ready the warriors.”

  Nordamen stood beside Graely as they watched Morvaen’s bulk disappear into the night. “Don’t worry. We’ve made the correct decision concerning Alora and Kaevin, and our plan of defense is sound.”

  Graely forced his tight fists to unclench. “Yet I know if Vindrake’s men defeat us tonight, all is lost. And it will be on my head.”

  Nordamen’s thin hand squeezed his arm with surprising strength. “Have faith, Graely. We are on the side of good. We fight to defend all we know and love. The warriors of Water Clan fight for evil reasons. Surely that gives us an advantage. Remember… Fight for good, and evil will fall.”

  Graely choked back his emotion. “Sometimes the words feel empty, but I will say them just the same. Fight for good, and evil will fall.”

  “Now is not the time to lose your faith.” The lanky shaman squinted one eye.

  “It isn’t lost… only hiding. Never fret, it will appear when I need it most.”

  “I must reinforce the wards.” Nordamen stepped quickly toward the doorway, flipping his straight blond hair back as he glanced over his shoulder toward his son, who’d been intent on their conversation.

  Bardamen jumped to follow, his muscular form and jet-black hair a stark contrast to his father, though their facial features bore a striking similarity. He turned back before slipping out the door. “I’ll be ready to block the moonlight upon your signal, Graely.”

  Graely considered the talented pair as they exited. Stone Clan could ill afford to lose either of its shamans in this perilous battle.

  The room emptied quickly. Jireo was nowhere to been seen, probably already at his post with the other archers atop the wall near the gate. He was gifted with the bow and arrow, but Graely hated allowing a boy with but seventeen years to join in such a battle. Barely two moons had passed since Jireo had recovered from a near fatal injury in the last fight against Vindrake’s men.

  A hand clapped him on his shoulder, and he turned to face Laethan’s grave eyes. “We’ll be preparing the healing house for the wounded. Take heart, Graely. At least Alora and Kaevin are out of Vindrake’s reach.”

  He gave a grim nod. Thankfully, his son and Alora were secure in the other realm. Though the pair would’ve been invaluable in this battle, they were too vulnerable as long as they remained soulmates. Dreading the inevitable death toll on his people, he breathed a prayer. With one last glance around the council room, empty of all but dancing shadows, he stepped into the cool night air.

  *****

  As top victor in the Water Clan training rings, Daegreth rode near the front of the warrior company. His iron belt chafed his waist, its weight shifting with the horse’s cadence. All the riders had been fitted in iron to protect against the possibility of attack by Laegenshire’s new bearer, Alora. Of course, killing Alora was their main objective, but Vindrake predicted she’d be hidden in another realm. Daegreth had gleaned this tidbit of information through close attention to council meetings while acting as Vindrake’s personal guard, even as he pretended boredom.

  Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he contemplated the upcoming battle. He had no fear of the pain to come. No, he welcomed the death that would free him of the malevolent blanket smothering his consciousness. He hoped he could find someone strong enough to kill him before he took the lives of too many Stone Clansmen. He hated Vindrake with a vengeance and hated the constraint of his bloodbond even more.

  Death was his only opportunity to escape Vindrake’s dark power. Perhaps his bond would not prevent him from making loud oaths and bold shouts at the Laegenshire defenders. If he attracted enough attention, an arrow might even kill him before his sword met flesh of any kind. But God help any warrior who came within reach of his blade, for he was honed and trained to slaughter, an effective knife wielded by Vindrake’s own hand.

  They rode the horses in compact formation, with the shaman, Malphas, cloaking any sound that might escape to alert their enemies. Laegenshire had a strong natural defense from their southern Water Clan neighbors, a forest too dense to penetrate on horseback. The road led to the west wall of the shire, a barrier of precise
ly cut interlocking stone, three arm-spans high, funneling all traffic to the thick wooden gate. Until the gate was breached, Malphas would shield the entire group of warriors from attack by arrow, stone, or fire. Yet the size of his protection was limited, causing the warriors to remain clumped together. Laegenshire would have permanent wards in place, covering everything inside the stone walls.

  The moan of distant horns interrupted his reverie.

  “We’ve been discovered!” shouted Craeven, the weapons master. “Drop the cloaking, Malphas—we will not catch them unaware. Now we must hurry before they can increase their preparedness. Ramgate to the forefront!”

  Shouts rang out, passing the word through the ranks. The wagons carrying the huge iron-capped log and burly ramsmen rumbled to the front of the company. No idle conversation passed between warriors as they followed the well-trodden road sandwiched between the tall evergreen trees and thorny thickets.

  Daegreth’s horse’s flanks were heaving now, sweat soaking through his pants. Breaking through a clearing, he had his first glimpse of the impressive white stone walls of Laegenshire glistening in the moonlight. Approaching the gate, the group fanned out. One horseman strayed too far away from the main company, and a cry of pain pierced the night.

  “Glare it!” Craeven’s upper lip curled as he regarded the warrior who lay on the ground with an arrow protruding from his chest. “Stay together! Stay inside the shielding.”

  Thung!

  The heavy log thudded against the massive gate.

  Thung!

  Daegreth moved toward the front, anxious to be one of the first through the gate once the ram had accomplished its goal.

  Thung!

  “You…” Craeven gestured at him with his sword. “To the rear with the rest of the honor guard. I want my best warriors under the shield as long as possible.”