Alora: The Portal Page 26

  “Yes.”

  A chuckle burst from her surprised mouth. And another. Soon she was laughing with abandon, as Kaevin joined in her mirth.

  “Silence!” Vindrake pivoted, with fists clenched at his side, and Alora rolled her lips in, trying to squelch her laughter. Then another bout of nausea seized her as Empusa returned.

  “Now, Sire?” Empusa presented the demon rod to him with a slight inclination of her head.

  Vindrake snatched the rod, extending it straight above his head. “Yes! Do it now!”

  Closing her eyes, Empusa moved her lips in silent mutterings. At the end of the rod, smoke rose from the disc and it glowed red.

  Vindrake regarded Kaevin with renewed arrogance. “Kaevin, the choice is yours. If you’ll simply take the oath of fealty, you can save both of you a great deal of pain.”

  “I won’t do it. Never. You may as well kill us now.”

  For the first time, Alora sensed genuine terror from Kaevin, despite the bravado in his words. It only served to increase the pounding of her heart.

  He nodded at Empusa. “Remove her shirt, please.”

  Empusa pulled a sparkling blade from her cloak, slipping it under the fabric of Alora’s thick sweater and slicing it away as easily as tissue paper.

  “Leave her alone!” The anguished words tore from Kaevin’s lips,

  “But I cannot leave her alone. You’ve made your choice, Kaevin, and now Alora must suffer for it. And you as well, I suppose.” Vindrake’s eyes blazed with a merciless gleam. “Now Alora, where shall I make my first mark? I’d hate to mar your face. Perhaps the tender flesh on the underside of your arm…”

  He brought the fiery-red glowing iron down and waved it before her eyes. She closed them tight before he pressed it to her skin.

  ~ 16 ~

  “I’ve received Darielle’s impression. None of the three transported to Laegenshire. They must be in Vindrake’s hands.” Graely barely managed to hold his voice steady.

  “I’m sorry, Graely.” Morvaen stopped his pacing to park his ungainly body on the log beside Graely. “You’re certain? Perhaps they’re making their way outside the wards of the cavern to transport.”

  “No. The instructions were clear. Alora was to attempt a transport before the three departed the portal to seal the entrance. If the caverns were warded, the task was abandoned.” Graely slid the lanyard back around his neck with shaking hands, tucking the sightstone inside his shirt. “They must be in irons. There can be no other explanation.”

  “Then we’ll go forward as planned. We’ll save them, Graely. We’ll arrive in Portshire in two hands.”

  “Even that may be too late. I wish now we’d told them we’d be waiting close by. At least it would’ve given them hope. They still believe we’re three days of travel away.” Graely dropped his head into his hands.

  “But you know why we didn’t tell them our plan. You agreed. Our chance of success is much greater with surprise on our side. Vindrake has ways of getting information. If they’d known the truth—”

  “Don’t speak it. I can’t bear the image of Vindrake using his cruel methods on the children.” Pushing his fears aside, Graely rose to his feet. “I still sense Kaevin’s life force, so Vindrake hasn’t killed them yet. For now, I’ll cling to that knowledge.”

  “I believe Vindrake will keep them alive, if only to bait you into attack. In the meantime, our small force can slip into the city, unseen. Ochraen will start a fire to distract the guards, and we’ll follow the path laid out on Daegreth’s map.”

  Morvaen stood, drawing his sword to trace an intricate pattern in the air. “I’m looking forward to the opportunity of fighting Vindrake. That coward always sends his warriors to battle while he remains a safe distance behind. This time, he won’t be able to hide.”

  “Our aim is to rescue the children, not to kill Vindrake.”

  “Yes, but should the opportunity present itself, my sword will find a home in his heart… if he has one.”

  *****

  The clunk of heavy footsteps and a flickering light announced the forthcoming arrival of the guards. Markaeus turned to Strongman, who stood grasping the gate with white-knuckled fingers. “I hope you prove more trustworthy than your brother.” The iron gate swung open at Markaeus’ touch, creaking on its hinges.

  “You won’t regret this. Find your brother and make your escape while I dispose of the guards.” Strongman bounded through the opening.

  “Wait! Do you want to use my blade?”

  “Keep your blade for yourself. I’ll have weapons of my own soon enough… I’ll take what I need from my brother’s guards.”

  He smiled, but the fire in his eyes made Markaeus glad he wasn’t Strongman’s enemy. Strongman disappeared into the stairwell, and there followed a series of thunks, crashes, and gurgled cries. Not waiting to determine Strongman’s success or failure, Markaeus dashed down the hallway to find his brother.

  “Haegen!” He called his brother’s name, no longer caring if he awakened all the occupants of the holding chambers. “Haegen!”

  “Markaeus!” His brother’s answering call beckoned him to run faster.

  “Haegen!” He arrived at the gate, swinging it open wide.

  Haegen emerged, enveloping him in his arms. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Grandfather?”

  “No, Grandfather is well. He sends his love.” Markaeus pulled off the top cloak and handed it to his brother. “Come! We’re escaping!”

  “The gate is open!” cried a boy behind Haegen.

  Sudden inspiration struck Markaeus. “Yes! Yes, the gate is open. You’re free. All of you. Everyone!”

  Haegen stood frozen as the other children scurried about, waking one another and pouring through the open gate.

  “Come on, Haegen. We need to hurry.”

  “I wonder if I should take Furry with me, but she just had her babies. I suppose I’ll have to leave her behind.”

  “Your rat will be fine without you, Haegen. And I’m sure you’ll find more pets. You always do.” Markaeus snatched his brother’s hand and tugged him down the crowded corridor, springing open every gate along the way to the surprise of the occupants. Now there’ll be more targets to chase than sentries to find us.

  *****

  Arista crouched in the doorway, blade at the ready, peering round the corner into the dimly lit passageway. She shivered in her lightweight trousers, cinched on with a rope at her waist and rolled up to accommodate her shorter legs. Likewise too long, the borrowed shirt hung almost to her knees. The previous occupant of the chamber must’ve been quite tall. But Arista wasn’t complaining at the fit, so grateful was she to be in dry clothes. Her damp hair hung in tangled tresses down her back, tied back for the moment with a bit of twine. Her feet were covered only in wool stockings, and she was grateful for them though they folded on the ends of her toes. She would’ve abandoned the oversized stockings as well, had she not needed the storage for a few more blades. Having lost her metal blades in the transport, she had only the ceramic left, a less than ideal situation, as she wasn’t nearly as adept at throwing the lightweight blades.

  Though her brother preferred a short sword to throwing knives, her small stature put her at a decided disadvantage in a close fight. So Arista had practiced archery and knife-throwing hour upon hour, long before she developed a gifting in weapons.

  That she and Jireo had come from such timid parents had long been a mystery. Her father, though he volunteered in every battle, used his dexterity gifting primarily to fashion leather boots and scabbards to be sold at market. Her mother, gifted in intelligence, watched the warring of the clans with sad eyes, loath to give up her children to their passions. However, she admitted her children had been warriors almost from birth, their constant combat a source of many cuts and bruises until their punishment changed from backbreaking chores to confinement within the house. At that, the two learned to keep their sparring verbal, thus avoiding the dreaded loss of freedom.
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br />   As two sentries scurried past to disappear around the corner, Arista decided to break for the next alcove. She poised to spring out, her muscles tight, when a hand clasped around her mouth and another circled her wrist. A hairy hand. That of a man.

  She tried to bite, but the hand held too tightly. Twisting with all her might, she jammed her free elbow into his ribs, but he only increased his vise-like hold. She stomped her foot on his, too late remembering she had no boots. As he drew her backward into the room behind them, she went limp, her weight pulling them over forward. Feeling his arm slacken, she threw her head back. A crunch. A grunt. She thrust her knife down and back, breaking his grip. The knife connected. Another grunt.

  He grabbed her wrist, twisting it behind her until the knife dropped away. Securing her other wrist, he locked them behind her in one strong hand, slapping the other over her mouth again, just as four sentries ran past going the opposite direction of the previous guards. He moved them backward into the dark chamber, kicking the door shut with his foot.

  “Glare it! You cut me, you little wildcat, and probably broke my nose.” His voice rasped in the darkness. “Though you’re only a child, I’ll not afford you any more gentleness.”

  “I’m not a child; I’m a warrior. Let me go!” She struggled against him, but he leveraged her arms up behind her. The crack of light from under the door revealed little in the dark room, but she could sense his mass. He was at least a head taller than she was, maybe more.

  “You’re no warrior, though you fight with more grit than most. I know who you are, child; you’re one of the children who’ve escaped from the secure chambers above. Be still—I’m not your enemy. I saved your life from those guards, and I can show you the way out.”

  “Let. Me. Go.”

  “If I release you, will you swear not to fight me?”

  “Will you swear not to detain me from my purpose?”

  “I have my own purpose, and I don’t want your presence to interfere.”

  “What is your purpose?”

  “To kill my brother. And what is yours?”

  “To save two lives. And saving two exceeds the taking of one.”

  “Not when the one is Drakeon—better known as Vindrake.”

  “You’re Vindrake’s brother?” Arista jerked her weight against his grip, but he wrenched her arms higher behind her back, forcing her to bend over.

  “He’s my brother by birth, but I’d never claim him by allegiance. I bear no bondmark.”

  “If you aren’t my enemy, let me go.”

  “Very well.”

  His grip released even as she tugged against him, the impetus sending her tumbling forward to the floor, barely twisting to let her shoulder take the blow. She scrambled to her feet, scampering toward the slit of light marking the bottom of the door. Tugging on the handle, she found it wouldn’t budge, and wondered that her gift of gresses had somehow failed her.

  “Your efforts are futile.”

  Arista jumped at his voice, bumping into him as he stood holding the door closed in the upper corner. “I’ve no intention of allowing you outside. You’ll be caught and draw the attention of the guards to the interior of the caverns.”

  “Then you’ll be stuck in this chamber all night guarding me, for I’ve no intention of abandoning my friends. You’ll have to murder your brother another day.”

  A blood-curdling scream reverberated through the cavern corridor, raising goose bumps on Arista’s arms.

  “Glare it! That’s Alora! Vindrake’s torturing her!” Arista renewed her efforts, tugging on the door with all her might. “Please, let me go. I’ve got to save them!”

  “Wait, child. Who are these friends of yours, and what grudge does my brother bear against them?”

  “Kaevin BarGraely and Alora, Stone Clan’s bearer. She also happens to be Vindrake’s daughter.”

  “What? My brother has a child?” His voice constricted. “I have a niece?”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true. Now will you let me go?”

  Another scream cut through the darkness, progressing to an eerie wail, seeming to stretch on without end. When the ghostly sound faded away, Arista realized she’d been holding her breath.

  “I thought I’d seen the depths of my brother’s evil, but to torture a child… Surely even the fires of hell would be an insufficient retribution.”

  Arista blinked at tears, her composure teetering on the edge of collapse. “Please… don’t you see? The fault is mine. I have to save them or their deaths will be on my head. Please, let me go.”

  “I’ll go with you. I’ll save them from Drakeon’s hand or die in the attempt.”

  *****

  “Alora!”

  Kaevin’s voice broke into her oblivion, bringing her back to consciousness. Consciousness and pain. Alora willed herself into blackness again. Anything to escape the agony. The skin on her arms burned and throbbed, from her wrists to her armpits. Searing. Blistering. Raw.

  “Alora! Wake up, Alora!”

  “No. No, just let me die. It hurts. It hurts so bad.” She croaked out the words, her voice hoarse from screaming. Her tears flowed again. How do I have any left to cry?

  “I know. I know it hurts. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have saved you. We shouldn’t be here.”

  “I just want to die. I tried to be brave, but it hurts too much.” She blinked her eyes open, seeing nothing in the darkness, black as pitch.

  “Can you bear it a little longer? I know Father will come for us.”

  “I don’t know… I don’t know…”

  “I can end it, Alora.” Kaevin’s voice cracked. “When Vindrake comes back, I can tell him we’re done. I’ll say the words… take the oath of fealty. It’s over, Alora. You were truly brave. No one could expect more than we’ve already done.”

  “No, you can’t do it. He’s so vile. His bloodbond would make you evil, too.”

  “But I’ve felt your pain. It’s not even as intense as you feel it, and it’s unbearable. I can’t let him torture you any more. It’s worse than if he were torturing me.”

  “We don’t have a choice. You can’t take the bloodbond. I’ll be okay. He stops when I black out, doesn’t he?”

  “I can’t bear to watch it,” Kaevin sobbed. “Maybe I can pretend I’m going to take the oath. He’ll stop torturing you while he prepares for the ceremony.”

  “Maybe…”

  “I love you, Alora.”

  “I love you…” Alora surrendered to the pain-free cloud of blackness in her mind.

  *****

  Markaeus led the way down the mostly deserted corridor toward the private bathing pool and the portal that would be their escape. In the chaos of frantic guards and escaped captives, including some forty children who scurried in every direction like a stirred bed of ants, Markaeus and Haegen moved undetected, hiding in alcoves and storage chambers until they reached the place Markaeus called the spoke chamber. The rounded room fed into eight separate hallways, of which Markaeus had explored three. The corridor that led to the portal was clogged with four sentries, presently engaged in an impassioned discussion.

  “We’re stuck,” Markaeus muttered, crouching just out of sight. “That’s where we need to go.”

  Haegen peered over him around the corner. “I could run down the another hallway and draw them after me. I’m really fast. Perhaps I can outrun them and circle back.”

  “No, this place is like a maze. You’d be lost for certain. Perhaps if we threw a stone to rattle down another corridor they might investigate the noise.”

  “I’m the best one to throw it. We need a big one.”

  Grappling at the stone along the edge of the floor, they felt for loose rocks. Markaeus discovered a gap with a large loose stone wedged in the hole. Sliding his hand in the slot to leverage against the rock, he felt a sharp pinch.

  “Ow!” Markaeus hissed, snapping his hand back to rub the sore spot on his little finger. “Something bit me.”

 
“Let me see.” Haegen stretched out with his head on the floor. “Come out here and talk to me.”

  An immense rat, with beady black eyes and brown mottled fur emerged, regarding Haegen with a rather respectful expression. Haegen reached his hand out to stroke his back, moving up to scratch behind his ears, murmuring in low tones.

  “Very well.” Haegen rolled over to face Markaeus with a smug grin.

  “I told him you were sorry for invading his home, and he’s forgiven you.”

  “He’s forgiven me? He’s the one who bit me.”

  “And what would you do if a giant’s hand reached through the door of your home to surprise you in your sleep?”

  “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t bite his finger.”

  “Never you mind. Whiskers is a very nice rat, and he’s kindly agreed to help us out. He’s going to have a run at the sentries across the way.” Whiskers lifted his head to Markaeus, wiggling his nose.

  “His name is Whiskers?”

  “No, but I can’t pronounce the name he told me. Whiskers seems a good enough substitute.” Haegen crept back to the corner on his knees. “Ready, Whiskers?”

  “Wait.” Markaeus reached in his pocket, retrieving a few crumbles of cheese. “Here you go, Whiskers. We’re extremely grateful for your aid.”

  Whiskers accepted the cheese from Markaeus’ hand without a single nip, and blinked his black eyes.

  “You’re welcome.” Markaeus smiled.

  “You’ve developed gifting with animals, too?” Haegen’s hopeful brows arched high.

  “No. But he seems polite enough. I assumed he’d mind his manners.”

  “The guards are still in the doorway. The bald one with the bushy beard has drawn his sword.”

  “Best of luck, Whiskers.” Markaeus wondered if he was allowed to pray for a rat. He could be risking his life for them.

  Whiskers scurried along the circular wall, his mottled fur blending with the stones in the flickering lamplight. As the rat slipped around the guards inside the corridor, Markaeus briefly thought Whiskers had simply scampered off. Until the skinny guard in the back screamed, hopping on one foot and shaking his leg.