Alora: The Portal Read online

  He felt and heard an arrow pinging from the metal sharpstop lashed to his left arm and wished he could toss it to the ground. Yet his bond and his training combined to make him move swiftly away from the entrance, crouching behind his shield. He heartened to find Laegenshire was defending itself well.

  A loud roar drew his attention to a sizeable Stone Clansman wielding a heavy sword and cutting down Water Clansmen one after another as they attacked in waves. There. His target. Surely this man could best him in hand-to-hand battle. Testing his bond, he took a step toward the man and found he was free to attack. With a cry of exultation, Daegreth bounded toward him.

  However, moments before reaching his goal, he saw two Water Clan warriors struck by arrows while attempting to engage the behemoth of a man. Though neither arrow strike was fatal, both were easily overcome in their hampered state. He almost screamed in frustration as his body bounded toward the archer perched on a roof ledge. He knew it was imperative to Vindrake’s success to remove the bowman before he could pick off any more Water Clan warriors. The trim young warrior, clearly illuminated in the glowing moonlight as he stooped to retrieve a new quiver of arrows, would be no match for him in close combat.

  Climbing the trellis toward the roof, Daegreth attempted to produce a battle cry, but his blood fealty kept him silent as he ascended toward the unsuspecting archer. The noise of battle gave cover as the wood cross-planks creaked under his weight. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of what would happen next.

  Having already used up half his supply of arrows, Jireo strapped on a second quiver. He congratulated himself that not one of his arrows had been wasted yet. His new position allowed him a perfect opportunity to aid Morvaen on the ground, but he’d be vulnerable if an enemy archer spotted him. And when his arrows were spent, he’d be forced to descend and engage with his sword and knives.

  Kneeling to steady himself on his inclined perch, he nocked an arrow and took aim at a man swiftly surging toward Morvaen’s side while the weapons master was occupied with two other warriors. Savoring the feeling of power flowing through his hands to perfect his aim, Jireo watched his arrow fly straight and true, striking the man in the thigh, the cry of pain alerting Morvaen to the danger.

  As he reached without thought over his shoulder to retrieve another arrow, he felt a vibration in his knee. Again, a slight shudder of the wood transmitted through the bone in his leg. Another small shake rolled through his rooftop platform, setting him on high alert. Had someone climbed the trellis behind him?

  Leading with his bow, he swiveled and stood, feeling and hearing the rapid heavy thump of footsteps on the roof. With no time to take aim, he let his arrow fly in the general direction of the man thundering toward him. Fortune held, and the arrow imbedded in the warrior’s arm. Yet the Water Clansman only stopped for a moment, long enough to break off the wooden shaft protruding from his skin and drop his sharpstop, transferring his long blade to the other hand.

  The Water Clan fighter approached with more wariness in his expression, but Jireo knew he’d be no match for the well-muscled young warrior if he got close enough to use his sword. He dropped his bow, withdrawing two throwing knives and flinging them in close succession. The first hit the man’s stomach and bounced off with a noisy ping of metal against metal. The second knife found its mark, burying in his chest.

  Momentarily stunned, the warrior gazed at the knife handle jutting from his chest. When he lifted his eyes toward Jireo, he smiled—a wild, crazed grin. Then he staggered forward, still brandishing his sword with his left hand, while his right arm hung limp at his side and blood dripped from his chest wound. All the while that strange smile adorned his face.

  Jireo took one step backward, his boot coming to rest atop the discarded bow, which slipped under his weight, sliding down the slanted perch. Crying out, he toppled to the roof, extending his hand to break his fall. His wrist folded and snapped when he landed, and he screamed in pain, even as he began to slide toward the edge of the roof. His yell was cut short when a heavy weight fell across his back. The warrior had pinned him in his precariously balanced position, legs dangling unsupported. He waited for the stab of pain to come, the inevitable deathblow, but the dense body didn’t move. He must be dead.

  Ignoring the searing pain in his wrist, Jireo struggled but couldn’t budge the smothering weight holding him captive.

  *****

  The textbook slid from Alora’s fingers to clunk on the wood floor. A cramping in her chest competed with the new stabbing sensation in her head, and she cried out concurrently with Kaevin, who jumped to his feet.

  “Jireo! It’s Jireo! I’ve got to get to him. Now.” He sandwiched his head between his palms.

  Alora popped up from the couch with her heart beating a hundred miles an hour. The insistent pain outweighed the effect of the melting ice she held against her head. She dropped the ineffectual baggie on the floor beside Kaevin’s discarded ice.

  “Your uncle isn’t home. He’ll throw a fit if you go without permission. And so will your grandmother.” Beth moved close to peer up at Kaevin. “Are you sure it’s Jireo and not your imagination?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m certain it’s Jireo.”

  “What if Vindrake has him?” asked Wesley. “If he’s got Jireo, and you transport to him—”

  “I have no choice; I must go. I can’t explain it.” Kaevin’s eyes pleaded with Alora.

  “No, I totally get it. We have to go. I feel like… I don’t know how to describe it… like I’m going to die if we don’t get to him. I’ll just have to hope Uncle Charles understands.”

  “Wait a minute… When your heads hurt this badly, doesn’t that mean your soulmate bond is getting weak? What if you pass out as soon as you get there?” Beth snaked her arm around Alora’s, attempting to pull her away from Kaevin. “I’m trying to be the voice of reason, here. We should wait until your uncle gets home and see what he says.”

  Alora jerked her arm free from Beth’s grasp. “We’ll figure something out, but we’re going. We can’t wait for Uncle Charles. I can’t explain what I feel, but I know it’s an emergency.”

  “Then take me with you,” said Wesley. “Whatever it is, I can help. That way, if you pass out when you get there, I can take care of you. It won’t do you any good to go if you’re too weak to take care of yourselves.”

  “I’m sorry, Wesley.” Kaevin accepted his coat from Alora, shrugging it on. “We can’t risk your life again by taking you to Laegenshire. Your parents would be very angry. Instead of moving straight to Jireo, we’ll transport to Father first. Then we’ll be safe even if Vindrake has captured Jireo, and Father will know what to do should we be weak or unconscious.”

  “Then you might as well take these with you.” Biting his lip, Wesley wedged his hand in his pocket to withdraw two sheathed ceramic knives—the only kind of blade they could carry on a transport with Alora.

  A grim smile appeared on Kaevin’s face as he retrieved three similar knives from his own pocket. “I’m always prepared.”

  Alora was anxious to go, until she saw a tear streak down Beth’s face. She could count on one hand the times she’d seen Beth crying. She pulled her diminutive friend into a hug, sensing her fear.

  “Please, Alora… I have a bad feeling about this,” she whispered. “If you go without us, we won’t even know if you’re alive or dead.”

  “Everything will be fine, Beth,” she soothed. “You know we can’t take you with us. It’s bad enough if I defy Uncle Charles’ instructions, but if we take you it’s even worse. I promise we’ll come back as soon as we can.” Though she knew it was the right thing to do, she felt immensely guilty leaving Beth behind. Wesley moved to place a comforting arm around Beth’s small shoulders.

  “I think we should probably try kissing again while we transport.” Kaevin’s voice was desperate, and her pain mirrored in his eyes.

  Closing her eyes, she turned toward him and felt his strong arms wrap around her. His
lips caressed hers, and for a moment she forgot what she was supposed to do. His mouth pulled away, and she blinked her eyes open wide.

  “Alora? Are you taking us to my father?”

  “Right.” She felt the blood rush to her face. “I was just… uhmm… okay, I’m ready.” As she formed an image of Kaevin’s father, Graely, in her mind, she felt a hand grasping her arm.

  ~ 2 ~

  “Kaevin! Why are you here?” Though his voice was gruff, Graely clamped his arms around his son in a feverish embrace. Alora was surprised when he released Kaevin to pull her into a zealous hug, and warmed at his unexpected demonstration of affection. Maybe he’s starting to think of me as family… as a daughter.

  “Something is wrong with Jireo—I feel it. What’s happening? Do I hear a battle?” As always, Kaevin sounded more confident here in Laegenshire, calm and self-assured, even in the midst of a crisis. The familiar change in his personality was already evident, though they’d just arrived.

  “Yes, we’ve been attacked by Water Clansmen, a thousand or more in number. Yet that doesn’t answer my question. Why are you here, and why have you brought Beth and Wesley to this perilous place? You’re playing into Vindrake’s hands.”

  Beth and Wesley? Alora looked over her shoulder to find Beth with her face buried in her hands and Wesley, standing with an open mouth, his arm still around her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry Alora, but I had to come. I couldn’t stand not knowing what was happening. Especially when you said something was wrong with Jireo.” Beth peeked between her fingers. “I promise I’ll wait in the healing house with Laethan, and I’ll totally stay out of trouble.”

  Alora was about to retort when Arista wormed her way between them. “Did you say something about Jireo? What’s wrong with him?”

  “Your brother’s in some kind of danger,” said Kaevin. “I have a pain, a compulsion, that drives me to him.”

  “I’d like to go with you to find Jireo,” Arista said. “Can you wait until I finish my task? I’m opening the secret gate in this back wall to let the other Stone Clan warriors inside. They need me because I’m gifted in gresses.” Never having heard the term, gresses, Alora wanted to ask about her gift, but she didn’t want to disturb Arista’s concentration as the girl probed her way along the shadowed stone wall.

  “Arista, you don’t need to accompany Kaevin and Alora.” Graely spoke in severe tones to the petite girl with long blond hair hanging in unruly tangles down her back. “The moment the gate is opened, you must take your bow and arrows home and protect your mother. I won’t have you in the battle with your limited years.”

  “I’m older than Alora,” Arista spoke without pausing in her undertaking. “Also, I have a long bow, so I can shoot from a safe distance—I’ve done it in the past.”

  “I won’t argue with you, Arista. You’ll go home because I’m ordering you to do so. That’s my final word.”

  Arista continued to move, sliding her hands along the stone until something caught her attention. She pushed with her fingers and the stone appeared to slide away, widening until the opening was six feet wide. Out of the darkness, men and women poured through the gate, carrying swords, knives, and shields. Graely shouted instructions as the warriors dissipated with obvious purpose.

  “Leave it open, Arista. More will be coming from the distant farms.”

  Alora felt a strong surge of pain wash through her head, and she knew Kaevin felt it as well.

  “We can’t wait any longer; we must go to Jireo.” Kaevin spoke in a strangled voice.

  “Wait!” Graely put his hand on Kaevin’s shoulder. “He could be anywhere, even up on the wall. There may not be room for you beside him… You could knock him from his post.”

  “What if we bring him to us?” asked Alora.

  “If someone is touching him, he won’t come alone.” Graely drew his sword from its scabbard and nodded at Kaevin who pulled a ceramic knife from his pocket, removing the sheath. Wesley quickly followed suit, motioning Beth and an irritated Arista behind him.

  With her arm still locked around Kaevin’s elbow, Alora imaged Jireo. She blinked, staring at the empty space before them.

  “What are you waiting for?” asked Kaevin.

  “I’m not waiting. I tried, but nothing happened. Does that mean…” Alora choked on her words. “Does that mean he’s dead?”

  With a shake of his head, Graely set his mouth in a grim line. “Dead or alive, it means he’s in iron or touching someone in iron. Of course, I should have realized Vindrake’s men would be belted in iron to protect themselves from your power.”

  “Then we must go to him,” said Kaevin. “Alora, if we land unsupported, could you transport back here?”

  “I can do that. And even if Vindrake has captured him, I can just bounce us back. Ready?”

  Kaevin nodded, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm and lowering his body in a slight crouch. Following his lead, Alora bent her knees in preparation for whatever precarious landing they might have. Pushing down a pang of fear, she made the transport.

  *****

  Jireo shifted under the deadweight imprisoning him, desperate to release the excruciating broken wrist wedged beneath him. Leaving skin behind on the roof, he worked his arm out, finger-width by agonizing finger-width, until his hand broke free. The pain eased somewhat, settling into a strong throb. The body on his back blocked his vision, but he knew his wrist was broken, the bones wedged in some off-kilter position.

  With his legs still dangling off the edge, he had no leverage to pull up on the roof, even if he were able to dislodge himself. His only choice was to wriggle free and fall to the ground. Having chosen his platform for its attribute as the highest roof near the square, he was unlikely to survive the fall without serious injury. Maybe I can roll when I hit the ground. Yet can I escape being crushed under this warrior’s body when we fall?

  Even in his blazing pain, he almost laughed at the irony of the situation.

  A screech and a thump on the roof above him caught his attention. He tried to peer around the warrior’s limp arm, which blocked most of his vision.

  “Whoa! It’s slanted.”

  “Careful. Do you have your balance?”

  “Yes, but where is he? I see that dead guy, but where’s Jireo?”

  “I don’t know. Here’s a broken arrow shaft.”

  Is that Kaevin’s voice? Jireo tried to call out, but his lungs were constricted by the weight on his back. “Kaevin.” He knew the muffled whisper was too soft to hear.

  “There’s a lot of blood here,” said Alora. “If we were home in Montana, we could take this blood to a lab, and they could tell us whose blood it was.”

  “Really? That’s an amazing gift.”

  “No, it’s not a gift. It’s science.”

  “I hate science.”

  “You only hate it because you’re trying to learn it all at once.”

  I’m wedged under a dead warrior, with a broken wrist, about to fall off a roof while they quibble with one another. “Kaevin.” The sound was barely audible to his own ears, much less to his friends’ hearing. He would have screamed in frustration if he were able.

  Jireo felt his body slipping further off the roof, and he swung his legs, searching for a purchase.

  “Could he have fallen to the ground?” asked Alora.

  “Perhaps, but why would your transport bring us here? Try again to bring him to us.”

  “Okay, I did it,” said Alora, “but nothing happened. Why don’t you go check out that body? Maybe there’s a clue. I’ll wait here.”

  “No, we agreed to stay together. It’s safer.” Kaevin’s tone was insistent.

  “Please Kaevin, I don’t want to get any closer to a dead body. Anyway, it’s right by the edge.”

  “If we fall you can transport us to safety, can you not?”

  “Yes, if I’m really fast.”

  “Then be prepared to be really fast.”

  Jireo felt slow steps vib
rating the planks beneath him.

  “Look,” said Kaevin. “Is that an arm sticking out from underneath the body?”

  Jireo attempted to wiggle his fingers, but nothing would move beyond the broken wrist. He managed to shift his arm a tiny bit.

  “I think Jireo’s under there.” Alora’s voice rose in excitement.

  The arm obscuring his view shifted and Kaevin’s face appeared. “Jireo? Are you alive? Are you hurt?”

  “Yes and yes,” rasped Jireo. Despite his pain, he smiled at the relief on his friend’s face.

  “How bad is it?” asked Alora. “Should we take him straight to the hospital in Montana?”

  “No, it’s only my left hand,” he whispered. “Laethan can bind me up. I can still throw a knife with my good hand.”

  “He wants to go to Laethan,” Kaevin told Alora.

  “I don’t know, Kaevin…” Alora’s voice sounded further way now. “He’s hanging off the roof. How do we get him out of here?”

  “This warrior must have an iron belt. If we unclasp it, you can transport all four of us to Laethan. Jireo will be safe, and Laethan will dispose of the body.”

  “I don’t really want to touch a dead guy, but you can do it,” said Alora. “I’m glad his face is down; it doesn’t seem so real.”

  Kaevin spoke in soothing tones as he tugged on the dead warrior’s body. “Not much longer, Jireo. I only need to unfasten this belt. Ah… The clasp is on the other side.” Jireo felt the body shifting above him as Kaevin jerked. “There—it’s loose.”

  “I’m afraid the landing will be rough, Jireo,” said Alora in a worried tone.

  Jireo braced himself for the impact, knowing the dead man’s body would fall atop him again. At least his broken wrist wouldn’t be pinned underneath him this time.

  “Okay, I’ll hold your hand, and you touch the dead guy. To Laethan?” asked Alora.

  “To Laethan. And hurry. After we deliver Jireo, we can surely find some way to turn the tide in this battle.”