Alora Read online

  Thalaena was his prize convert, though a less than enthusiastic customer. Through her eyes, he’d witnessed an entire council meeting.

  Admittedly, Blaggard only caught a small number of the words spoken. He’d long ago learned to read lips, but some of the more heavily bearded speakers were difficult to understand. In addition, Thalaena had an annoying habit of watching the reactions of others in the room, rather than keeping her eyes on the one speaking. As the council meeting dragged on late into the night, Thalaena’s eyes had drifted closed.

  He screamed at her to open her eyes and pay attention—a futile action, since no sound carried through a sightstone. But Thalaena was clearly exhausted from sparring, having bested three of Laegenshire’s top warriors at short swords that afternoon. He’d watched some of the terrifying battles through her eyes, thanking his stars that he lacked the gifting to be a warrior.

  Blaggard gleaned some information from the council meeting. He now knew Laethan had the gift of empathy—a clear violation of edicts for healers—yet the council postponed rendering judgment on the matter. Blaggard stored this tidbit of information away, hoping it might be useful at another time. When the discussion turned to the appearance of the portals and what action should be taken, he only knew an expedition was planned to some distant land, not the destination or the purpose. Furthermore, he only discovered a few of those who would be included on the trip.

  Blaggard slammed the drawer shut in frustration. He had to have more information when he spoke to Vindrake that evening or the Water Clan leader might judge this other new agent to be more valuable than Blaggard. It was a fine line he walked with Vindrake—proving himself so gifted as to be indispensable, while not posing a threat to his power. He knew it was dangerous, but the potential gain was immense. If he maneuvered carefully through the pitfalls, he would not only destroy Graely and Stone Clan, but also attain a position of high power within Water Clan’s rule over all of Tenavae.

  A pitiful mewling sounded from near his feet—Chince, his deceased wife’s cat, which now haunted his home—stared at him with accusing gold eyes. Blaggard kicked out with his heavy boot, but the cat leapt clear, letting out a hiss and disappearing through the open window.

  He hated Chince with a passion almost equal to his detestation of Graely, but the scrawny cat refused to die or find a new home. Though Blaggard provided no food or water, the cat found other sustenance. And somehow the feline had the wherewithal to avoid his poisoned bait.

  Blaggard let out a huge sigh, plunking his heavy frame onto a nearby stool. What shall I say to Vindrake this evening?

  With a sudden burst of intuition, he checked Thalaena’s sightstone again. She’d been wearing the stone in the new belt Blaggard had fashioned, but he only observed another sparring session that morning, this time against the formidable Alleraen. Still, it was possible she might engage in a meaningful conversation while she ate her midday meal.

  Opening the drawer, he removed the sister stone, gripping it in his palm. A smile drifted onto his face when he saw she was indeed eating with not one but two significant partners—Morvaen and Alleraen. And though both men were bearded, the proximity was close enough to allow Blaggard to read their lips with practiced proficiency.

  Yes. Master Vindrake would be properly impressed with his report tonight.

  **************

  Alleraen was beside himself.

  He’d been bested. For the first time since he came into his weapons gifting, someone had beaten him in combat. He tried to convince himself that he’d simply been distracted by Thalaena’s magnificent form during the blunt bladed sparring. But bruises in too many critical places spoke to the truth. Certainly he’d begun the match believing he would need to hold back, so as not to humiliate her while demonstrating his prowess. A blink into the battle, however, his goal changed to mere survival.

  She’d beaten him handily, though he far outweighed and out-muscled her. Her agility more than made up for a deficit against his gift of strength as she parried every blow with ease, countering with unfailing accuracy.

  Yet she sat across from him at the table, calmly eating her midday meal like the impossible hadn’t just occurred.

  He stared into his bowl, jabbing at the stew with his table knife as if he could kill the meat again and achieve at least a small portion of victory to appease his bruised ego.

  “Not to worry, Alleraen.... I also felt the sting the first time it happened.” Morvaen’s jovial voice broke into his reverie. As the weapons master heaved his massive form into an adjacent chair, he laughed, slapping his hand so hard on the wooden table he rattled the bowls. He shoved an elbow into Alleraen’s ribs. “You should have seen your face when Thalaena spun around and sent her boot into your gut. I’m surprised your stomach isn’t too sore to eat.”

  Alleraen mumbled something that shouldn’t have been said in polite company.

  Thalaena choked and looked like she was hiding a laugh behind her hand. Then she must have taken pity on him, for she turned the tide of the conversation. “Actually, Morvaen, I believe Alleraen presented a greater challenge than you. Did I not relieve you of your sword after only four parries?”

  “Ha! That you did, Thalaena. But only the first time we sparred. Once I learned not to underestimate you, I made you work for your victories—every one.”

  Alleraen perked up at this revelation. “How many times has she beaten you, then?”

  “Too many times to count,” Morvaen declared. “But I’m a better warrior for it. Smugness makes one lazy and careless.”

  “No chance of that for me,” Thalaena remarked, taking a deep drink of water from her mug. “I set up practice matches for all the warriors, but I fight at least three challenges most days. You were my first today. I’m hopeful my victory over you this morning will discourage others from seeking a match after midday. I could use a rest.”

  “I didn’t realize you’d beaten Morvaen, as well,” said Alleraen. Taking his first bite of stew, he chewed with relish, reviewing the match in his mind. “I suppose I’ve joined a good company, then.”

  Morvaen grunted. “Yes, a fine company, indeed—those whom Thalaena has defeated. I’m glad she fights for Stone Clan.”

  “I can see why you’ve chosen her to be your successor on the council,” Alleraen observed.

  “After attending that lengthy council meeting last night, I am uncertain I wish to be weapons master.” Thalaena stopped eating, cocking her head at Morvaen. “Has your jaw always popped like that when you eat?”

  “It has. Though I’ve been told it’s getting louder. Graely complains when we eat together.” He chomped on a piece of bread, producing a series of rhythmic cracks as his jaw muscles flexed, and grinning at Thalaena’s wide eyes. “Perhaps that’s why Graely voted in favor of you going on the expedition rather than me—he doesn’t want my noisy jaw disturbing his meals.”

  “What expedition?” asked Alleraen.

  Like distorted mirror images, Thalaena and Morvaen twisted to peer over their shoulders.

  “None can hear us in this corner,” Alleraen assured them, eager to hear about a trip that warranted such secrecy. He wanted to go, no matter the purpose or the destination. After years of confinement in his brother’s dungeon caves, he was itching to travel throughout Tenavae, and even beyond. But first, he needed to establish a protective citizenship, for his blue eyes made him a target outside his birth clan.

  Morvaen lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, despite their seclusion. “Alora and Kaevin and a select group will travel to Serenshire, with Thalaena in charge of their protection.”

  “Serenshire? The City of Peace? Is that place not a fable?” Alleraen asked.

  “We believe Serenshire is real,” said Morvaen. “Raelene has spoken to one who knows the way.

  “But, even should you find Serenshire, what can you learn there?”

  “We hope to find many answers.” Morvaen shoveled a huge bit of stew into his mouth and chewed, his jaw pr
otesting with pops so loud that Alleraen cringed. Morvaen swallowed before he spoke again, gesturing with his spoon. “The last known soulmate couple may still be alive, residing in Serenshire. And surely some of those gifted in wisdom will know how these portals are being created. Furthermore, Graely anticipates he may convince Serenshire’s leader to join us in the battle against Vindrake.”

  Thalaena leaned in, eyes bright with excitement. “I’ve never traveled more than a seven-day from Laegenshire, so I, for one, am glad of Morvaen’s noisy jaw.”

  Alleraen wondered if other factors might have been more important in Graely’s choice. Perhaps Graely was attracted to Thalaena. After all, the Stone Clan leader had been a widow for a long time, and he was still young enough to take a mate. It struck Alleraen as unfair for Graely to seek a second wife, when Alleraen had never married, through no fault of his own.

  Not that I’m interested in Thalaena beyond her ability to wield a weapon.

  “I imagine there will be a number of others who will demand to go along on this trip,” Alleraen mused.

  “Yes, Jireo and Kaevin will not want to be separated,” Morvaen agreed. “And Graely expects Charles will insist on accompanying Alora, which means Markaeus would also go.”

  “And it will be much easier to invite Arista from the beginning, as she will refuse to be excluded.” Alleraen smiled as he thought of Arista. He’d grown fond of the child, thinking she was much like his own daughter would be had he married and produced offspring.

  Thalaena frowned. “If Arista truly wishes to be a warrior, she must learn discipline.”

  “You’ll see, Thalaena, when you get to know the girl for yourself.” Morvaen knocked the bread crumbs from his shaggy beard. “Arista is much like a stallion—you will gain more if you utilize her courage and enthusiasm without breaking her spirit. She has risked her life for Stone Clan more than once in her seventeen years.”

  Thalaena’s eyebrows arched, and Alleraen wondered if she was impressed or dubious. But the lull in the conversation provided an opportunity to promote himself.

  “Thalaena,” he ventured. “You will need some other warriors on the expedition, will you not? Surely you do not intend to be the only protector.”

  Morvaen and Thalaena exchanged a knowing look, and Alleraen wondered if he’d missed something.

  “I plan to include a number of warriors in my company,” said Thalaena. “Morvaen recommended you for the expedition, but I wished to see for myself whether you were worthy. I thought a sparring match would provide suitable evidence.”

  The match was a test... and I lost.

  “How did I fare in your judgment?”

  She frowned, pursing her lips. He held his breath for an eternity while she pondered his question. Just as his vision dimmed from lack of air, she answered, quirking her lips.

  “You need some additional training, but your sword skills are more than adequate.”

  More than adequate. A humbling assessment.

  But Alleraen couldn’t stop the silly grin that sprang to his face.

  ~10~

  Kaevin refused to turn back after his harsh words with Alora. His pride wouldn’t let him admit he was still weak from the morning session with Laethan and needed something to eat. Deep down, he knew his anger stemmed from his own insecurities.

  How could Alora and Jireo do such a thing behind my back? It seems there’s no one I can truly trust.

  He kicked at a rock on the trail, sending it flying down the hill.

  What if she’s right? What if I fail to protect her from Vindrake again? What if I can’t even keep myself alive, and she dies because of me? Perhaps the council is right... she may have a better chance of survival if she isn’t soulmated to me.

  One thing was certain—he’d become soft residing in the safety of Montana these last moons, having no one to spar with save Jireo. Not that his defender brother wasn’t a skilled warrior, but Kaevin knew him all too well, anticipating every move before he made it. And the few times he’d practiced with Daegreth, the former Water Clan guard defeated him with ease. Knowing Daegreth had been the top trained warrior and part of Vindrake’s personal honor guard didn’t make the loss any easier to swallow. It only emphasized the fact Kaevin wasn’t skilled enough to protect Alora from another attack.

  And so, it wasn’t really an accident when he found his way to the practice field, almost empty since most warriors had gone in for the midday meal.

  At the edge of the field, he found a low, horizontal fize tree branch and climbed to a comfortable perch, his feet swinging below as he munched a fruit he plucked on his way up.

  Only two young warriors were still sparring—one a stranger to Kaevin, while he recognized the other as Saravo, a seasoned warrior having about twenty-seven years. Sticks and leaves littered his disheveled brown hair as he stumbled away from the stranger’s steady advance. Saravo wore the traditional protective leathers, while the other warrior fought bare-chested—possibly because of the heat, but most likely out of arrogance.

  Saravo grunted with effort as his blade sliced through the air again and again, while the second warrior deftly dodged his sword. Finally, the stranger answered with a blunt stab to Saravo’s chest, knocking him to the ground. The victorious warrior offered him a hand and, pulling Saravo to his feet, presented his sword in invitation to another round. Refusing the offer with a weary shake of his head, Saravo gave a perfunctory bow and trudged away.

  The stranger spun in a slow circle, eyeing the empty field until he spied Kaevin in the tree. Ambling over, he picked a deep red fize from the tree and propped himself against the trunk, taking a bite before he introduced himself.

  “I’m Judaene,” he said, around a mouthful of seedy fruit.

  Though Kaevin had learned it was considered impolite in Montana to speak with food in your mouth, the habit was considered a gesture of openness and friendship in Tenavae, as if one had nothing to hide.

  With his own half-chewed bite of fruit, he answered, “I’m Kaevin.”

  Judaene didn’t flinch. “As I thought. You favor your father.”

  Kaevin nodded, studying the young man. Shiny brown hair hung straight to his shoulders, framing almond-shaped green eyes. He appeared to have only a few more years than Kaevin, but he had scars all over his chest. Must come from practicing without leathers.

  “Want to spar?” Judaene asked.

  Kaevin’s decision was made in an instant. This is exactly what I need.

  Wiping his mouth on his shirtsleeve, he dropped the short distance to the ground. “I’d love to go a round or two. All I have is my fighting blade. Let me fetch a practice sword and throw on some leathers.”

  “Why not practice with our real blades?” Judaene suggested.

  Kaevin considered the idea. He and Jireo often sparred without blunted blades, preferring to practice with the balance of their own fighting swords. But the two had sparred together so often, it was almost a well-rehearsed dance. His hand slipped down, caressing the hilt of his blade. He’d missed his sword during the moons of his Montana stay—missed fighting with it, like he would an old friend.

  “I might hurt you,” Kaevin argued, though he’d already agreed in his mind.

  “I can stand a few scratches if you can.”

  Now he would seem like a coward if he insisted on wearing leathers while Judaene fought without a shirt.

  Kaevin lifted his chin, repeating a line from his favorite picture story or, as Alora called it, movie. “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts!”

  “Huh?”

  Laughing at his opponent’s confused expression, Kaevin drew his blade, flipping it in his hand and enjoying the feel of his blood coursing through his veins as his heart thudded happily in his chest. “Let’s have a round!”

  **************

  Alora waited about forty-five minutes before she went after Kaevin, allowing herself enough time to rest and recover, and hopefully giving Kaevin enough time to cool off. She would have waited longer,
but she could sense him getting angrier.

  She was prepared to pop back to safety when she transported, just in case he was hanging out on the edge of a cliff or up in a tree. But she wasn’t prepared for Kaevin to almost stab her through with a sword.

  “Alora!” Kaevin yelled out, his blade barely missing her as he knocked her to the ground with his other hand.

  She landed on her hipbone with a force certain to leave a huge bruise. Sitting up, she prepared to yell at him, when a blade came over her shoulder, slicing Kaevin’s shirt. It bloomed red. In fact, he already had several red streaks on his shirt.

  “Kaevin!” she screamed, crab-walking to the side where she could see his shirtless opponent. Has Vindrake attacked? Should I transport us away? Should I bring Morvaen here?

  “We’re... only... sparring,” Kaevin huffed, sweat pouring from his brow. His face distorted with effort as he barely dodged two more slashes from his apparently uninjured opponent.

  I can’t believe this guy could get the upper hand with Kaevin, no matter how gifted he is. Since we’ve been soul-mated, Kaevin’s practically unbeatable in a one-on-one match. Morvaen told me so himself.

  The warrior advanced toward Kaevin with a nonchalant air, sparing a glance at Alora. “Don’t be too concerned. I’ll not hurt your soulmate... not too badly.”

  Kaevin broadcasted a myriad of strong emotions, each of which flooded inside her brain, though she attempted in vain to shield herself. She felt his pride hanging in tatters and saw his desperation to be... something... something he was afraid he wasn’t. She wanted to help him, but that was the last thing Kaevin wanted from her.

  She had an idea... there was one thing she could do to show her support.