Alora: The Portal Read online

  “I didn’t say elderly.”

  She ignored his muttered protest, though impressed to find his voice so close behind her despite the breakneck pace she set.

  “Hold up,” he whispered, grappling for her arm.

  But she slipped away with a burst of speed, rounding the corner without slowing down. She slammed into a solid wall, bouncing back to the floor.

  She looked up as the wall slowly rotated, revealing a large, humorless face atop a thick stone body with tree-trunk legs, wearing the uniform of Vindrake’s sentries. The human wall lifted his sword, slamming it down with a roar to slice her in two. She rolled to the side. His blade sliced the back of her loose shirt and clanked against the stone.

  Whipping out a knife as she sprang to her feet, she let fly with perfect aim. The knife tip clanged, striking metal, bouncing off the breastplate beneath his tunic. No wonder he felt like a wall.

  Dodging his blade again, Arista blessed her countless hours spent at swordplay with Jireo. The knife she withdrew from her stocking came out with its sheath, and she wasted precious time taking it off. His blade swung again. She leaned from its path, losing her balance and stumbling to her knees. He pulled his lips back, revealing jagged brown teeth. Arista scooted away. Her back hit the wall behind her. His sword point jabbed toward her ribs. She leapt to the side, throwing her knife as she fell.

  The wall stood still. His hand dropped, and his sword clattered to the stone floor as he toppled slowly back, falling like a tree in a forest. His heavy body thudded to the floor, armor clanking against the stone.

  Arista tasted blood in her mouth and realized she’d bitten her tongue. She chuckled. All that, and I injured my own self.

  “I hope you’ll be a bit better at obeying me.” Alleraen offered his hand to Arista, hefting her to her feet. “Since I saved your life with my arrow.”

  “My knife struck his left eye before your arrow struck his right one.”

  “True, true… but your blade merely blinded him, while my arrow struck the killing blow.”

  “Only after my knife made your target stand still. The skill was in hitting him while he moved.”

  “But to be entirely accurate, the knife was mine as well. Did I not supply you with five metal blades as you had only strange lightweight knives of your own?”

  “And does Vindrake’s guard, who donated your arrows, get credit for your shot as well?”

  Alleraen grinned. “You make me understand at once all I’ve missed in my life… all the pains of fathering a recalcitrant child.”

  *****

  Jireo moved through the corridors with unerring accuracy, not only because of his gifting in direction and his knowledge of Daegreth’s detailed map, but also because his compulsion drew him to Kaevin. For whatever reason, Vindrake hadn’t killed them yet; of that much he was certain. A chill ran up his spine as he realized his certainty didn’t extend to Arista.

  To his surprise, some of Vindrake’s sentries were quite content to let him go his way, intent on carrying their heavy buckets of water toward their destination. One even nodded, giving him an encouraging smile. Could Vindrake be losing control of his people? Or perhaps capturing Alora, along with the threat of fire, had divided his attention.

  Then two guards emerged through a doorway, catching him by surprise. These two were obviously not inclined to let him pass through, drawing their swords with practiced surety. From his talks with Daegreth, he knew how the two were trained to fight in tandem… one to jump in and distract, parrying the enemy’s sword, while the other circled around to make the killing blow. His only chance was to strike before they separated.

  Ambidextrous, Jireo drew a knife and threw with his left hand, following with a thrust of the short sword in his right. The blade flew true, embedding below the guard’s right shoulder, his sword dropping from his fingers to clang on the floor. He prayed Vindrake’s guard wasn’t likewise blessed with the ability to utilize the alternate hand.

  The other guard dodged his stab, swinging his heavy blade down across Jireo’s with such force it almost slipped his grip. Jireo used the impetus, spinning around and lifting his sword to slice through the guard’s side, drawing blood.

  When the guard lifted his hand to his bleeding side, Jireo lunged forward, sliding his blade between the ribs to sever his heart. As the guard crumpled to the ground, Jireo wrenched his blade free, spinning to face the wounded guard, lest he attack again. But the guard slumped against the wall, watching Jireo with wary eyes. Deciding he was no further threat, Jireo turned to go.

  “Wait. Come back.”

  Jireo hesitated, but something in the man’s voice made him return. He addressed the man who grimaced with pain. “I’m sorry to have killed your friend, but your own wound may not be fatal.”

  “I… I freely and gladly serve my master…” The man lifted his eyes in a soulful gaze.

  “Yes. Yes, I understand. I’m certain you serve with honor.” Jireo almost choked on the words. “Uhmm… I must go.”

  “Wait… please… If I threatened you now, you would kill me, no? As you did Waedden?”

  “You’re not a threat to me. I promise I won’t take your life when you can’t even lift a blade against me.”

  “But… if you leave me alive, I’ll sound the alarm. I won’t let Stone Clan vermin roam in my master’s halls.”

  “Are you trying to provoke me to kill you?” Jireo tightened his fist, biting back his temper.

  “I’d never ask you to kill me.” His eyes puddled with tears.

  “Sound the alarm if you must; I’d be a fool to let you delay me longer.”

  As Jireo turned away, his eye caught a movement. The guard’s left hand came up into knife throwing position. Darted forward.

  Pivoting on reflex and grasping his knife, Jireo threw. The blade buried in the guard’s throat, the startled O of his mouth transforming to a smile as the light left his eyes. His left hand relaxed, and Jireo spied the guard’s failed weapon… a small stone.

  *****

  As Markaeus led the way, Uncle Charles tried to take stock of their abilities. “I’m guessing one of you, at least, is gifted with throwing knives, right? I brought a bunch along, but I don’t throw them. I do a lot better if the hilt stays in my hand.”

  Haegen fielded the question. “We might both be gifted in weapons some day. But that’s a major gift; we don’t get those until we have sixteen years.”

  “Great.” Charles didn’t hide his sarcasm. “Then what can you do?”

  “I’m gifted in gresses, of course,” Markaeus said, “and Haegen’s gifted with animals.”

  “What about this gift where you don’t get lost? I know Jireo has it…”

  “That’s direction,” Markaeus answered, dancing with enthusiasm.

  “Direction. Have you got that?” asked Charles.

  “Uhmm… no. I’m gifted in horsemanship and water-source.” Markaeus’ voice sounded hopeful.

  “I’m gifted in weather,” Haegen said.

  “Weather? Does that mean you can maybe call lightning from the sky? Or a tornado? Something like that?”

  “No, I can predict weather changes. Or at least I’ll be able to do so after I train with the weather guild. It’s a rather difficult gift.”

  “Sounds like we’d be in great shape if we were going camping, but not so much if we want to get out of this cave alive. And I’m stuck using a knife instead of a gun,” Charles mumbled.

  Markaeus stopped just before the passage turned, holding up his hand for silence. Crouching, he peered around the corner. “There’s a sentry in the spoke room, and our passage is almost directly across the way. We’ve no rat to distract him, this time.”

  “A rat? Yuck!” Both boys grinned at the disgust in Charles’ voice. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Can we go a different way?” He whispered the question as he leaned to peek around the corner to view the room for himself.

  “Besides the main entrance, I know of only one secret pa
ssage out of the caverns. To reach it, we must use that passage.” Markaeus pointed his finger directly across the room. “Farther on, we must pass a guard station. I slipped inside unseen when the sentries were on the north patrol, but there may be no way past them now.”

  “Maybe we should try the main entrance, then.” Charles suggested.

  “No, there are even more guards at the cavern entrance.”

  “We may as well surrender,” Haegen said. “I’ll simply go back to the children’s chamber and await my birthingday. Perhaps I can find some way to resist taking Vindrake’s bloodbond.”

  His forlorn tone tore at Charles’ heart. “Hold on, here. I’m not giving up. If I get you to that passageway, can you get away from here on your own?”

  “We can make a run for Laegenshire. I’ve been there before, and I have a few supplies for the journey. My bread is ruined from the water, but the cheese should be good enough.” Markaeus patted the rucksack beneath his soggy cloak. “But won’t you be going with us?”

  “I’ll try, boys, but if the guards stop me, you keep running. Okay? For now, let’s make a plan. I don’t have my favorite weapon with me, but I do have a few tricks up my sleeve. Or a few cans…”

  *****

  Taking advantage of the still-tolling bell, Graely motioned the other three to crouch with him beside the cavern entrance. Removing one of the bundles of special fiery noisemakers Charles had secreted for him in Montana, Graely handed the small bag to Naegle, along with a box of tiny wood fire-starters, motioning with his hands. He’d hoped to save the “firecrackers” and “matches,” as Charles had called them, to aid them in their retreat, but perhaps they’d have enough left for that purpose at the end.

  Naegle inched his way up the rocky precipice over the opening of the cave. Reluctant to waste his precious supply, Graely hadn’t afforded his men much practice. So he hoped Naegle could properly time the lighting and throwing of the miniature sticks with the deafening bang. Lying on his side, Naegle wedged his foot under a rock, stretching his upper body above the opening. A tiny flame flared at the end of the fire-starter. As he touched the fire to the wicks, the noisemakers sizzled and smoked. Graely held his breath, counting in his head. One. Two. Three. Four. Naegle bent his body down into the cave opening, swinging his arm in a wide arc and throwing the bundle inside. Five. Six. Seven.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Shouts and screams erupted with the bangs. The head guard burst from the opening, scrambling to make the sharp turn on the rocky ledge while his attention was still riveted on the exploding noisemakers. Beside him, Morvaen lunged at the guard knocking him off the ledge to fall screaming and flailing to the waters below. With his cries of alarm covered by the commotion within the cavern, another guard ran outside through the opening, unaware of the danger awaiting him.

  Naegle, having dropped down the opposite side, engaged the sentry who’d turned that direction. Unfortunately, Naegle’s guard was massive and would have been much more suited to battle Morvaen. Yet, catching him by surprise with his eyes better adjusted to the dark, Naegle stabbed his side and sent him to the ground.

  Three more sentries rushed from the cave, jostling one another as they ran. With his short sword drawn, Graely took aim at a guard with a grey cap. Ramming with his shoulder, he tried to push the guard off the ledge as Morvaen had done. But as Grey Cap toppled toward the edge of the cliff, he grasped Graely’s hair. Grey cap hit the ground rolling, hefting Graely after him, propelled by the painful pull on his roots.

  “Umph!” Air thrust from Graely’s lungs on impact. A sharp rock dug into his brow bone. Toppling over the edge, the guard grappled for a hold on the rocky cliff, one hand remaining firmly attached to Graely’s hair. The rocks scraped Graely’s face and chest as the struggling, screaming guard dangled in the air, suspended only by his grip on Graely’s hair.

  The relentless rocking weight pulled him further over the edge of the cliff, until Graely lifted his sword to swipe blindly at the offending hand. The heavy mass released as Graely’s sword severed hair, scalp, and hand to break the connection, and the guard fell screaming to the ocean. But Graely’s upper half hung over the cliff and, even without Grey Cap’s weight, he felt his body slipping over the edge.

  Clank! He jammed his sword at the sheer rock, desperately searching for a purchase.

  Clank! The blade bounced off, and he slipped further.

  Clank! Clank! Clank!

  Clunk! The sword jammed into a rocky crevice below him and held fast. He pushed against the blade hilt straining to hold himself steady, his muscles trembling with the sustained effort. Hanging upside down as he listened to the progress of the battle on the cliffs above, the blood rushed to his head. His vision narrowed. I’m going to black out.

  On the ledge, someone rammed a boot into his calf. He heard a yell and a thud. Then came a clash of metal, another shout, and a body rolled over the cliff to his left. Someone grabbed his boot, but he jerked until the offender released him.

  “Hie!” Morvaen’s voice floated down. “Kick me again, and I’ll simply leave you here.”

  Graely’s feet were lifted and his body scraped its way back up onto the cliff. Abandoning the blade, which was wedged tight, he let himself be dragged up to the safety of the ledge.

  “You’ve been scalped.” Morvaen bent over, examining his head.

  “Yes, I wanted to test my blade’s edge.” Graely didn’t bother to explain his rueful remark. He sat up, probing tentative fingers against the raw bloody skin and finding a great chunk of hair missing as well.

  “We need to press on before we lose our advantage. Your head and face are bleeding, and your eye is swelling. Perhaps you should remain behind and meet up with Ochraen and Flaeren by the air intake.” From Morvaen’s expression, Graely knew he must look terrible.

  “I’ll be fine.” He couldn’t stay outside for the same reason he’d refused to remain behind when the rescue team was formed. He couldn’t stand back and let someone else attempt to rescue his son from Vindrake’s clutches.

  Worster ripped off his tunic and tore it into strips, helping Graely bind his head. “Of course you must come, Graely. Only let us take the lead, now. Kaevin will not wish us to rescue him and lose his father in the process.” Worster mumbled as he worked, casting Graely a mournful gaze, no doubt due in large part from having lost his own father in the last battle against Water Clan.

  “Hurry!” Naegle rasped. “I hear voices returning to the entrance from within the cavern.”

  Pushing the pain of his injuries to the back of his mind, Graely strove to clear his thinking. He edged behind Morvaen through the cavern entrance, noting the smoke billowing out from the passageway. Morvaen stopped, turning to place his hand on Graely’s shoulder.

  “Are you certain, Graely? Are you truly fit to go?”

  “As long as my brain isn’t spilling out of my skull, I’ll not be left behind.”

  *****

  “Tell him! Tell him to speak the oath!” Vindrake brought the scorching iron down before her eyes.

  “You’ll torture me either way.” Alora made a vain attempt to hold back her tears. Her nerves were electrified with agony, and even the air hurt her raw skin.

  “Not if you submit to me.” His indigo eyes shone, malevolence flowing from him in waves. Intense nausea rolled through her body as if she were tossed about in an ocean storm. “Simply answer me with, ‘Yes, Sire.’ That’s all you need do to avoid more kisses from my rod.”

  Searching deep within, she found enough strength to shake her head, praying somehow the next burn would bring the sweet release of death. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth inside dry parched lips, anticipating the searing pain.

  “Very well, if you need yet another mark to prove my ultimate control, you shall have it.”

  “Wait!” Kaevin cried out.

  Vindrake lifted the iron, turning back to Kaevin, and Alora whimpered at her temporary retrieve. Vindrake, with black tunic and pants to m
atch his black hair, brandished the iron tipped with the glowing red disc. His dark form appeared surreal against a rising cloud of smoke within the room.

  “Ah, Kaevin… you’ve come to your senses at last? Will you speak the oath of fealty and accept the bloodbond? As a man of honor, it is only what you ought to do, having already given your word.”

  “No, Kaevin! We lose everything and gain nothing if you take the bond.”

  “Silence!”

  “I won’t be silent, and I won’t submit. I’ll die first.”

  “No, my dear, you will not die. You’ll only wish for it.” Vindrake swung the smoking iron back and pressed it into her palm. White-hot agony blistered her hand. She heard a girl screaming, a shrill piercing sound mixing with the flaming pain in her mind. The shriek went on and on, tearing at her eardrums. Only as the scream turned raw and hoarse did she realize it came from her own throat.

  “Stop! Stop! Please stop!” Kaevin’s coarse sobs rent the smoky air in the room.

  “No, she’s chosen to deny my authority, and she’ll pay for her decision. You’ll both pay.”

  “What if she only speaks the words? If she doesn’t mean them, will you spare her?”

  Vindrake inclined his head as if considering his offer. “I’ve no desire to torture her further. If you take the oath and she speaks the words, I see no need for either of you to suffer more.”

  Alora tried to catch Kaevin’s gaze, but tears blurred her eyes.

  “It’s inevitable; no one can resist me. No one can bear the pain forever.” In a haze of agony, Alora tried to ignore the draw of his smooth voice, the attraction of his reasoning.

  “No one, but me. Right, Brother?”

  Vindrake’s face turned ashen at the voice behind him.

  ~ 19 ~

  Markaeus, elected as spokesman by his brother, utilized his practiced acting skills to sound weary and contrite as they approached the four guards blocking the corridor junction. He wondered if there might be some unknown gift for this, as he seemed eerily adept at lying with a straight face. Only his grandfather had been able to detect his lies and truth-stretches without fail.