Alora Page 2

  “How long has it been?” Kaevin gritted his teeth in frustration. “We’ve got to do something.”

  “It’s only been about two minutes,” Uncle Charles answered, checking his wrist jewelry, a device he called a watch. It seemed a silly name to Kaevin, as the object had no power to see or observe, but he kept his opinion to himself.

  The back door slammed open and Kaevin started, surprised to find Jireo had already returned, bending over and panting for breath. He must have run all the way there and back.

  “Did you find them?” Kaevin asked, already knowing the answer, since Jireo had come back alone.

  Jireo straightened, shaking his head with a strange wide-eyed look on his face.

  “There’s nothing we can do but wait,” Uncle Charles said, although he stood up and began to pace. “We don’t have any reason to think she ran into any kind of trouble... other than dealing with a stubborn boy who can’t stand losing a game.”

  Jireo shuffled to Kaevin’s side, still laboring to breathe. “We have reason to fear now. I didn’t even reach the barn before I sensed it.” He grasped Kaevin’s arm, his jaw tight as he spoke in a strained voice. “Kaevin, your life is in danger.”

  Kaevin gulped a painful lump of air, blood pounding in his ears. Because he and Jireo had performed a defender bond ritual as children, not realizing the permanent repercussions, both could sense when the other faced imminent danger and were compelled to defend each other at all costs. A threat to Kaevin’s life could only mean one thing—Alora must be in peril.

  And he was powerless to help her unless she transported him to her or transported herself back. Please, Alora. Why are you delaying? We talked about this.

  “Markaeus can’t have gone far,” Charles remarked. “I don’t understand how they could be in danger.”

  “I can’t explain it, but I know it to be true,” Jireo answered, tightening his grip almost to the point of pain. “And if she happens to transport Kaevin, I won’t allow him to go without me.”

  The blood appeared to drain from Charles’ face as he looked upward. “It’s happening again. Dear Lord, I thought she was safe here.” He ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair, still thick, though time had woven much silver into the dark brown strands. “I know I can’t go with you and overload Alora’s transport. She has to bring all of you back. I’m trusting you with her life, Kaevin.”

  “I’ll save her... if she’ll only give me the opportunity.” He failed to hide the exasperation in his voice.

  “I’ll do what I can for you,” said Charles, disappearing down the hallway.

  “If I find her alive, I’m never letting go of her hand again, as long as we live,” Kaevin declared.

  Jireo squeezed his arm. “Kaevin, you have your transport weapons at the ready.”

  “I always carry these,” said Kaevin, indicating four sheathed ceramic blades in his pockets.

  “I’m prepared, as well.” Jireo displayed two similar knives, linking elbows with Kaevin to be certain he would transport along with him if Alora used her gift.

  “Take these with you.” Charles clomped back into the room. In his hands he carried two leather belts, each of which held two scabbards with knives. Kaevin recognized the special blades by their bright blue corded handles. The weapon belts were soon tied about their hips.

  “Thank you, Charles.” Jireo patted his belt and sent an encouraging smile toward the man who no longer bothered to hide his anxiety.

  “I know you haven’t practiced with them much,” said Charles, “but these new titanium knives with the tungsten carbide edges ought to be more effective in fighting, especially if you have to throw them.”

  Kaevin craned his chin down, studying the weapons hanging from his belt. “It’s still difficult to believe that one can transport with a metal blade, though I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes. I’m grateful to have these weapons made of transport metal.”

  “Unfortunately, we’re forever indebted to Steven for the discovery.” Charles’ lips pursed like he’d bitten into sour fruit.

  Kaevin understood Charles’ reticence in dealing with Wesley’s older brother, for he was excitable and unpredictable. But as he also seemed to be gifted with wisdom, Kaevin had resigned to Steven’s interference. Fortunately for now, the curious young man had returned to some place named Australia, where he was busy acquiring further wisdom. In a battle, Kaevin much preferred Wesley and his father Brian Franks, both of whom were proven assets.

  Charles shook his head. “It’s unfortunate, because Steven’s insisting he be allowed to visit Laegenshire in payment of that debt.”

  “I would agree—that doesn’t seem wise...” Kaevin began. But a fierce terror gripped his chest, and his knees went weak, with only Jireo’s tight grasp on his arm keeping him afoot. His words came out in breathy gasps.

  “It’s Alora. She’s really frightened of something... or someone.”

  ~2~

  Alora blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She was inside a hut the size of her bedroom, with straw-colored walls of rough texture and a dirt floor. One open window provided the only light in the dark and dingy hut—a single room as far as she could tell. The warm, humid breeze was shocking compared to the cool Montana air she’d just left. Sparsely furnished, the room contained three stools, a wooden table and, in the corner, a chamber pot, which reeked as if it hadn’t been emptied in a while.

  As her eyes adjusted she spotted Markaeus, kneeling on the floor, tugging on the arm of a rather feeble-looking man with wispy gray hair, who lay on a sleeping platform built against the wall, covered in a blanket despite the oppressive heat.

  She’d expected to find Markaeus in the barn or maybe in the basement or even a closet. The brat had figured out he could take a wire coat hanger apart, twisting it around his waist to prevent Alora from transporting him. At least once a day, he would hide from them, and considered it a victory if she had to transport to find him.

  At Kaevin’s insistence, she had taken him on every transport to appease his overprotectiveness. She’d heard his warning growl when she left and could imagine how furious he’d be when she returned. I’d better get Markaeus and get back quickly from wherever we are.

  “Alora, help me! I can’t make him come with me!”

  “Markaeus, who is this? And where are we?”

  “This is Grandfather. Please make him come. I don’t want to leave him here, but he won’t come.”

  The old man shook his head with tears in his eyes. “I told you I can’t go, Markaeus. It’s no use. You mustn’t be here. Alora mustn’t be here.” His voice sounded as desperate as he looked.

  “Your grandfather? Are we in Portshire?” Alora felt ice slide down her spine, and her entire body began to shiver. There was so much fear in the room she couldn’t sense whose was whose.

  “Yes, we’re in Portshire, in my old house. Can you just transport us, Alora? Even if he doesn’t give permission? I know he wants to escape, but he can’t agree... because of Vindrake’s bloodbond. He can’t say he wants to go.” With his grandfather’s arm in one hand he reached toward Alora with the other.

  Alora knew the power of Vindrake’s bloodbond. Markaeus was right—his grandfather couldn’t ask to escape while under her father’s oppressive control. She started to comply with Markaeus’ request, when a chilling thought occurred. “Markaeus, how did you get here?” Lowering her voice, she glanced over her shoulder toward the single wooden door, expecting her father or his clansmen to burst through at any moment. She crossed her arms in a vain attempt to stop her hands from shaking.

  “Through that portal.” Markaeus pointed to his left, but all Alora saw was the wooden table tucked against the wall. “It was in my room when I woke up this morning, so I know God put it there for me to find.”

  Her mouth went dry. Another portal, and this one went straight to her home in Montana! She knew it could only be closed against Vindrake if a gressor like Markaeus shut it on this end. “Ma
rkaeus... quick... seal that portal so Vindrake can’t use it. Then I’ll take all of us back to Montana. Hurry!”

  Markaeus jumped to his feet and moved to a spot two feet in front of the table, where he began moving his hands about in the air.

  Should I bring Kaevin here? What if he’s touching someone and they come with him? Would I be able to transport all of us back, along with Markaeus’ grandfather?

  She turned her attention to the man with a timeworn face who struggled to push himself up in the bed, and she wracked her brain, trying to remember his name.

  “Faestus? Is that right?”

  The old man nodded, blinking hard as more tears slid down his cheeks. “You shouldn’t be here,” he rasped.

  “Here, let me help you.” Alora put one hand behind his back to support him while he sat up, and his wiry hand clasped her other wrist with surprising strength. As he swung his legs down from the sleeping platform, a loud clatter vibrated in the room, a long heavy chain spilling out from under the covers and rattling across the edge of the wooden platform. Alora could only watch with an open mouth, mesmerized by the seemingly endless links clanking noisily into a messy pile on the floor. When the chain stopped falling, she saw one end was attached to a cuff around a skinny ankle—abraded and bleeding. How long has he been chained in this room?

  “I’m so sorry,” Faestus whispered, his chin trembling as more tears poured from his eyes. “I had no choice.”

  “It’s okay,” Alora said. “I’ll take Markaeus back and maybe we can figure out a way to rescue you.”

  But the old man shook his head, gulping the sobs erupting from his mouth. “No, no, no, no...”

  Markaeus appeared at her elbow and grabbed her arm, not realizing or not accepting the import of the chain on his grandfather’s bare and battered foot. “Transport us, Alora. I closed the portal so Vindrake can’t use it. Transport us now.”

  Alora decided it would be better to explain everything to Markaeus after they were safe in Montana. She attempted to step away from Faestus, but his hand still clutched her wrist with an iron grip. Shaking her arm, she shouted, “Let me go!”

  “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, his preternatural grip unwavering. “I’m so sorry.”

  Alora’s heart battered against the inside of her ribs, her breaths coming in rapid succession and her vision blurring. Though she jerked and tugged, she still couldn’t free her wrist and transport to safety.

  “Hurry, Alora! Someone could be coming,” Markaeus urged.

  I haven’t got a choice. I’ll have to transport Kaevin here.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she reached out to her soulmate in her mind. With minimal effort, she used her bearer gift to bring him to the dingy room.

  She heard his voice before she saw him... and felt his fury.

  “Alora, where are we?”

  When she opened her eyes, both Kaevin and Jireo stood before her. One glance at her soulmate’s downturned lips and clenched jaw told her she wouldn’t enjoy the conversation if they escaped with their lives. But I’d still prefer to live.

  “We’re at my house in Portshire,” Markaeus exclaimed. “That’s my grandfather, and Alora needs to hurry and transport all of us back, even though Grandfather can’t tell us he wants to go. I know he wants to escape. I promise he does. Please hurry, Alora.”

  She peeled her tongue from the roof of her cottony mouth. “I can’t transport.” Jerking her wrist, she lifted a helpless gaze to her soulmate.

  Kaevin’s eyes tracked from her pleading face, to her ensnared arm, to Faestus—sobbing in earnest—and down to his chained ankle. She saw Kaevin’s mouth drop open as realization set in.

  “Brightness!” he cursed. But then his brows lifted. “Markaeus is a gressor, is he not? Let him release the chain.”

  “He cannot!” Faestus answered, between shuddering breaths. “Vindrake fastened the chain without a lock, for I too am a gressor.”

  “Then let her go,” yelled Kaevin. “Let us take your grandson to safety.”

  Faestus stared at his gripping hand as if it were a foreign object, though it clenched her wrist so tightly it hurt. “It is not my doing. Vindrake wills me to detain Alora for him. Not me alone... everyone in Water Clan is so compelled.”

  Standing near the wooden door, Jireo waved his hand, hissing, “Someone’s coming!”

  Frantic, Alora renewed her efforts, straining against Faestus’ petrified grip. Even when Kaevin added his strength, clasping both their arms to wrench them apart, she couldn’t escape from his grasp. She sank to the floor at his feet, weighed down by the ice-cold stone in her belly. I can’t be captured by my father again. I can’t do it. Please God, help me.

  As Kaevin’s eyes met hers, she knew his anger was gone. And in its place was fear.

  **************

  Piercing the silent shroud, the noise of the approaching clansmen filtered through the wooden door. In her fright and panic, Alora struggled to control her empathy. Kaevin’s emotions, in contrast, transformed from fear to liquid excitement the moment Jireo warned of the approaching guards.

  I can’t believe how much he loves to fight.

  With a ceramic blade in one hand and one of the new titanium knives in the other, Kaevin shifted slightly to the left, shielding her view of the door.

  “Markaeus,” Kaevin whispered, scanning the room. “Hide under the table.”

  The boy scooted under the nearby table, quick and quiet as a mouse. With blood pulsing in her left hand, squeezed like a vise in Faestus’ grip, Alora curled into a ball at the old man’s feet, attempting to make herself small and unnoticeable.

  As voices and raucous laughter filtered through the door, Jireo held up three fingers, and Kaevin nodded. Two men and one female spoke outside the hut, their casual conversation indicating they had no idea anyone but Faestus was inside. Jireo slipped alongside the wall to stand behind the door. Tension vibrated on her skin like a plucked string on a guitar.

  What if Kaevin feels my terror, and it screws up his focus?

  Alora tamped back her fear, tying it up with a mental rope. Calm settled over her like a smothering blanket, but a headache amped up in the back of her head.

  The door flew open, sunlight painting a long bright rectangle on the packed dirt floor.

  “Nothing but bread tonight.” The first man tromped into the room, and Alora resisted the urge to peer around Kaevin to see him. He rambled on, with a gravelly voice that sounded like he’d smoked for fifty years. “It stinks in here, Faestus. That chamber pot needs dumping...” The voice trailed off.

  Kaevin tensed. He’d been spotted.

  “Who’re you?” the guard growled.

  With his hands tucked behind his back to conceal the knives, Kaevin remained still and silent as a statue, except for the twitching of his fingers on the blade handles.

  Alora wondered what the Water Clansman thought. He’d probably never seen anyone wearing jeans and a t-shirt before. Hopefully it made Kaevin look less gifted and dangerous than he truly was.

  Someone else shuffled inside. “Gastaene, stop wasting your time chatting with him. He isn’t worth your sympathies.”

  “We have an intruder.” Gastaene roared, “You! Answer my question, or meet my blade with your neck! Who are you?”

  “Yaerga,” the woman called out. “We have an intruder.”

  “An intruder?” said the third voice from the direction of the doorway. “Do you need my help?”

  “Hie! Stay back, Yaerga!” yelled the woman. “There’s another one behind the door. Go report to Master Vindrake. Tell him we’ve found two intruders in Faestus’ hut.”

  Gastaene rasped. “Move over there. Away from Faestus. Were you trying to break his chain?”

  When Kaevin moves, I’ll be exposed. Can I transport the guards to disarm them? Or are they belted in iron?

  Gastaene let out a gruff shout, and Alora flinched, biting her tongue. The pain and the metallic taste of blood helped her focus her attention on
the confrontation and ignore her emotions.

  With a step to the side, Kaevin turned his body. A sword sliced past him, and red bloomed on his t-shirt. As Kaevin slashed down with his knife, Alora fixated on Gastaene’s black-bearded face and attempted to transport him across the room. But the enraged man continued to battle Kaevin, unfazed by her efforts. Kaevin’s knife connected, cutting a deep gash in Gastaene’s arm as he spun away. With a grunt of pain, the guard transferred the sword to his other hand, swirling to face Kaevin, his massive back blocking her view of her soulmate.

  A shriek of rage drew Alora’s attention as the huge female guard grabbed the blue-corded hilt of a knife that had appeared in her chest near her shoulder. Without even wincing, the Amazon-like woman withdrew the blade, her hand blurring as she hurled the bloody knife at Jireo. Missing by millimeters when he bobbed to the side, the blade flew past him, slamming into the wall and bouncing to the floor.

  Sporting a sleeveless garment that exposed her sinewy, well-muscled arms, the guard woman stalked closer. Jireo danced from foot to foot while she loomed toward him, rivulets of blood dripping from a large gash on his arm. Up against the wall, he had no room to maneuver, and her sword had a longer reach than his knife. His eyes connected with Alora’s, and he lifted his chin, giving her permission to act. She blessed the time they’d spent practicing this maneuver.

  In a flash, Jireo was standing in front of Alora. Turning on his heel, he rushed behind the guard while she was still staring at the empty wall in confusion.

  But Kaevin’s yelp of pain distracted her from Jireo’s battle. The hackles rose on the back of her neck when Gastaene’s coarse laugh rang out, gleeful at carving her soulmate with his sword.

  Blood oozed between Kaevin’s fingers as he clutched his side. As the guard made a leering advance, Kaevin stumbled back toward Alora. Shrinking. Arms wrapped protectively around his body. Chin down. Knees wobbling.

  Alora felt Kaevin’s intense pain, but if he was afraid, he hid it well.

  With his lips stretched wide in a snaggletoothed grin, Gastaene hefted his sword above his head, ready for the killing blow. “Nowhere to run,” he snarled.