Alora Read online

  “I suppose you’re looking for Darielle, right? You must need to contact your brother.” One hand stroked his curly auburn beard as he puzzled out her quest.

  “No,” she replied, although a portion of his supposition was true. She was, indeed, planning to contact Jireo through Darielle, but her primary goal was to make her announcement to the council.

  His probing gaze bored a hole in the side of her head. “No?”

  “You don’t have to go with me.” She flashed a sweet smile. “I’m perfectly capable of finding the council on my own.”

  “Truthfully, I’m also going to the council. I’ve been summoned to speak with them about—”

  He stopped, clamping his lips shut, his cheeks turning a ruddy color to match his hair.

  “About what?” Arista demanded.

  “I mustn’t say.”

  Even behind his beard, she could see his lips pressed together in a tight white line.

  “What happened? Is it Water Clan? Are they attacking?”

  She quickened her step, stumbling in her haste.

  Alleraen put out a hand to steady her, but she brushed it off, tromping onward at a faster pace.

  “I don’t need your help, but I need to know if Vindrake’s men are coming. That could be why the portal appeared.”

  A hand gripped her shoulder, spinning her to a stop.

  “Portal? What portal?”

  “The one that materialized in my sleeping room this morning.” She twisted out of his grasp. “And stop grabbing me.”

  “Where does the portal go?”

  “Do you think me fool enough to explore the portal without consulting the council? Of course I don’t know the location of the other end.”

  “And you left your parents alone to guard the portal? With no warrior to aid them?”

  “My parents aren’t home.”

  His eyes bulged. “You left the new portal unguarded?”

  “I had no choice,” she spat back, hating the way Alleraen always made her feel like a child though she had almost seventeen years. “I had an obligation to report the portal to Graely and the council.”

  Alleraen waved a silencing hand before her face. “Where is the portal? Where exactly in your sleeping room?” Pivoting, he stared back down the curving path as if attempting to see her home, though it was blocked from view. “It’s right in front of the window, but you can’t find it without me.”

  He ignored her argument, issuing orders as if he had authority over her. “Make your report to the council. They’ve gathered in the hall for a special meeting. Tell them I cannot attend.” Alleraen took off in a trot down the trail, his ever-present sword dancing in its scabbard.

  “Where are you going?”

  He called over his shoulder, “Tell Graely I’m guarding your home. No Water Clansman will escape this portal alive, be he Vindrake’s elite guard or Vindrake himself.”

  Her former excitement at announcing the new portal’s existence disappeared. She spat on the path, grinding the foaming spittle into the dirt with the toe of her boot.

  Great! Alleraen will probably get to kill Vindrake, while I’m still delivering a message to the council and they’re debating what action to take.

  She trudged a few reluctant steps.

  Unless I alert the council and rush back to the portal before Vindrake’s men arrive. Surely Morvaen won’t forbid me from defending my own home?

  Suddenly eager, she ran—feet pounding, blond plait bouncing, and lungs burning—as fast as her legs would carry her.

  **************

  By the time Arista arrived on the front porch of the town hall, she had the wording all worked out in her mind. The council meeting must’ve gone long, for the guard had fallen asleep, slumped against the door, drool dripping from his slack mouth.

  I’ll wager he imbibed too much last night. No warrior in his right mind would risk Morvaen’s ire by falling asleep on post. She imagined the rage on the face of Stone Clan’s hulking weapons master had he spotted the slumbering guard.

  She recognized the guard’s face. Jireo had introduced her to this boy, once. What was his name? I remember—Harfayer. He was young, having only a few more years than her brother of eighteen. His youth and inexperience were the reason he’d drawn guard duty at midday, when an attack was least likely to occur. Lack of years, however, was no excuse for dereliction of duty, and she knew how to take advantage of his blunder.

  Tiptoeing up the wooden steps, she withdrew a razor-sharp blade from the sheath on her belt, slicing off a chunk of his straight black hair. Still he slept, a soft snore emerging from his parted lips. She landed a swift kick to the young man’s thigh.

  He awoke with a start, leaping to his feet and drawing his sword in a fluid stroke, then pointed the blade at her heart.

  “Stay back!”

  Though Harfayer had two hands of height advantage, Arista lifted her chin in disdain. “I don’t believe Morvaen would be pleased to discover you were napping so soundly that an enemy could have slit your throat.”

  She waved the lock of black hair before his eyes, pleased to see the color drain from his face.

  “Are...” He gulped. “Are you going to tell him?”

  “I haven’t decided.” She let her lips curl into a soft smile. “But I’d be inclined to keep our little secret if you let me in to see the council.”

  “I can’t.” Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, but his sword hand never faltered. “I was told to allow no one but Alleraen through this door.”

  “Alleraen isn’t coming. I bear a message from him for the council.”

  His chest expanded with a huge breath. As he expelled the air, he dropped the sword to his side. “Very well. You may enter.”

  Grinning, Arista reached for the handle, but Harfayer wedged his boot against the door, presenting his empty palm. “First... I’ll take that hair.”

  She looked up, noting he was rather attractive when he smiled... even with a chunk of hair missing on his forehead. With a wink, she passed the lock to his waiting hand and yanked the door open, wincing as the hinges screeched their protest.

  Despite her noisy entrance, not a single eye turned her direction. All were intent on the angry speaker who held the floor—Laethan, Stone Clan’s healer. It was no wonder the council listened in shock, for though he was known for being perpetually grumpy, he seldom lost his temper. But now he spoke in animated fury, his hands flailing as he spat out his words. Frozen in place, Arista felt an overwhelming sense of despair. Something terrible has happened.

  “And did I not say Alora needed to be here, under my care, after enduring torture by her father’s hand? Did I not tell you some injuries cannot be detected by the eye? And yet you insisted, against my advice, she would receive better care in the hands of the healer in the other realm?”

  Laethan fell silent, as did everyone else in the room. No one seemed to breathe. Arista could hear the thump of her heart.

  “You were right,” said Graely, the Stone Clan leader, in a voice as small as a child’s.

  Arista couldn’t help herself. “Is she dead? Are Kaevin and Alora dead?”

  Seven pairs of eyes turned her direction.

  “No child, Alora and Kaevin are not dead.” Laethan gave a sideways glance to Graely and added, “Not yet.”

  “But what happened?” she asked.

  Graely stood, addressing her with his customary air of command. “Why have you come, Arista?”

  “And how did you get past my guard?” Morvaen took up his usual pacing, clomping across the room on massive legs whose muscles struggled to burst through his leather pants.

  Laethan dropped bonelessly into a chair.

  Remembering her agenda, Arista delivered her rehearsed speech with exuberance. “I’m here to inform you that Alleraen cannot come and speak with the council. For he alone is guarding the portal, which appeared in my sleeping room this morning.” She paused for dramatic effect. The incredulous gasps were music to he
r ears. “Of course I shall return at once to help protect my home from Vindrake’s impending attack, as would any faithful Stone Clan warrior.”

  Confusion reigned as the entire council spoke at once, peppering her with too many questions, until Graely clapped his hands, calling for attention.

  “Chaleah? What is your assessment?”

  Under Chaleah’s discerning gaze, Arista squirmed. She’d forgotten her words would be tested by Stone Clan’s judge.

  The willowy Chaleah rose from her chair, her dark auburn hair tucked into a tidy braid that fell past her waist. “Arista speaks both truth and untruth. This very morning she has seen a portal in her home, but she does not necessarily expect Vindrake’s men to attack through the portal. Am I correct, Arista?”

  It was a rhetorical question, since Chaleah’s gift not only gave her the unfailing ability to detect truth and lies, but also prevented her from speaking falsehood. Consequently, Chaleah, like most with the gift of judging, had few friends who could tolerate her honesty.

  Arista felt compelled to argue her point, defending the fact she hadn’t truly spoken a lie. “I’m intelligent enough not to venture through the portal alone, so I can’t be certain where it leads. While I don’t know without doubt Vindrake will attack through the portal, I think it’s probable.”

  “Another new portal,” mused Nordamen. Usually, the slim shaman would have been accompanied by his son, Bardamen, who was poised to take his father’s position on the council that year. The son’s broad muscular frame made him look as if he were related to the weapons master rather than the shaman.

  Nordamen moved to stand beside Graely, placing a hand on his shoulder. “This can’t be coincidence. Vindrake must have discovered a way to create a portal.”

  Crossing his massive arms over his chest, Morvaen declared, “That’s impossible. The scribes of the Craedenza have always taught us only God can create a portal.”

  “The wisdom of the Craedenza is drawn from the depths of our collected knowledge and writings, as our people recorded everything observed in our history,” said Nordamen. “But the lack of prior observation does not make a thing false any more than the written history makes it true. We must always allow for our own error.”

  Graely added his consensus. “How well we know this. Only a few moons ago, we held the firm belief that no soulmate bond could form before the age of majority. And we had no notion of the existence of the Montana realm.”

  “Enough talk!” Morvaen thundered. “We must act at once to secure the portal. Alleraen can’t be expected to defend Laegenshire alone.”

  “I’ll return to my home at once, on your command, Morvaen.” Arista’s heart swelled with pride. Finally, she was a commissioned warrior.

  “Arista, I’m afraid we have other tasks for you,” said Graely.

  With her temper barely held in check, she forced her words though clenched teeth. “What task could be more important than protecting Laegenshire’s citizens from Water Clan?”

  “As this may not be the only new portal, we need you to conduct a thorough search of the entirety of Laegenshire... everything within the walls.”

  “All of Laegenshire? I would be gray and feeble before I could search every handspan within the walls of Laegenshire.”

  Arista’s gaze moved from face to face, searching for sympathy from some of the council members... from any of them. But one by one, they dropped their eyes, and no one spoke in support. This stupid portal! I thought I would finally get to be a warrior. Instead, I’m to be a wolf following a scent.

  “I’m afraid the appearance of yet another new portal confirms our fears,” Darielle commented. “We’re all in grave danger, both in Tenavae and in the other realm. Should I pass on this news to Jireo in Montana?”

  “Another new portal?” asked Arista. “Where’s the other one? Who found it?” She grasped at a tiny thread of hope. If someone else had located a portal, she must not be the only Stone Clansman with the gift of gresses. Perhaps she could have this other gressor assigned to search for portals, leaving her free to join the warriors preparing for Vindrake’s attack.

  Before anyone could answer, the door crashed open. In the doorway stood a tall woman with curly black hair. Her eyes, though the typical dark green of Stone Clan, were somehow brighter,sparkling as faceted stones, set in smooth dusky skin. She stood at least a hand taller than everyone else in the room, save Morvaen, to whom she marched, standing nose to nose.

  “Weapons Master... I’ve accessed the strength of our forces residing within Laegenshire’s walls. Many have returned to their homes to work the fields, and we would be sorely deficit in defense were Water Clan to attack this night.”

  “What is your recommendation, Thalaena?”

  Arista observed the exchange with fascination. Everyone knew Thalaena was the likely candidate to be Stone Clan’s next weapons master when she acquired thirty years, just over a year from now. Rather than weapons and strength, like Morvaen, Thalaena was gifted in weapons and agility—the same major gifts Arista possessed. She was everything Arista wanted to be.

  Thalaena’s so incredible! Perhaps she’ll be ready to pass the council position to me in thirteen years, when I have thirty.

  “We should call in our first level warriors and set the second level warriors on alert should the bells be rung.”

  “Graely?” Morvaen gave the Stone Clan leader an opportunity to offer his opinion, though Arista knew Graely trusted his weapons master to decide. The clever move allowed the two to grow accustomed to working together.

  “Thank you, Thalaena. Please carry out your plan at once,” said Graely. “We have discovered yet another portal... this one within our very walls, so time is of the essence. Only those in this room are privy to that knowledge. I trust you understand the need for discretion.”

  Her chin jutted out, emphasizing her terse reply. “If Stone Clan’s secrets are revealed, they won’t come from my lips.”

  Thalaena’s gaze shifted to Arista and back so quickly, Arista thought she might have imagined it. Her ire rose at the veiled accusation.

  She opened her mouth to object, but Nordamen’s soothing voice interjected, “I believe we are all suffering from short tempers... no doubt due to the news of this unwelcome portal in Laegenshire, in addition to Darielle’s distressing conversation with Jireo.”

  “What distressing conversation?” Arista moved to face Darielle, her throat constricting as the chief of farsight regarded her with sadness in her eyes.

  “Markaeus awoke yesterday to find a portal in his sleeping room, much as you did today. However, he made the mistake of exploring the portal on his own.”

  “No!” Arista gasped.

  “The immediate crisis is over,” Darielle hastened to explain. “The portal, which led to a hut housing Markaeus’ grandfather, has been sealed. And Alora managed to transport Markaeus, Kaevin, and Jireo to safety, though not without injuries.”

  “So we’re even more certain that Vindrake is responsible for these new portals, are we not?”

  Arista directed her question to Nordamen, but it was Chaleah who answered. “Some believe as you speak, but others are not convinced Vindrake has acquired such a power.” She paused, her brows furrowed. “However Darielle hasn’t disclosed all of her conversation with Jireo.”

  Darielle lowered her gaze, as she fidgeted with an azure blue stone, hanging from a leather string about her neck.

  Something cold settled in the pit of Arista’s gut. “What else did my brother say?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. But it was loud enough to be heard, because the room had fallen silent.

  “Alora has fallen unconscious, without obvious cause. The healer from Montana is confident she will wake soon, however...”

  Arista waited, holding her breath.

  “The defender bond increases its warning with each passing moment. Jireo believes Alora will not survive the seven-day unless something changes.”

  She didn’t have to look at G
raely to know he, like the other council members, was struggling to control his emotions. Darielle’s unspoken words hung in the air.

  If Alora dies, Kaevin dies with her. And I will never see my brother Jireo again.

  Laethan didn’t reinstate his angry rant. Rather, he remained slumped in his chair with his eyes closed, rubbing his temples as if he could push the depressing thoughts from his mind.

  Arista saw but two choices: to wallow in an anxious, muddy mire or to do something. Her muscles pulsed with tension as her fingers slid to the hilt of her sword, itching to fight. She’d already made her decision.

  ~5~

  Markaeus awoke with a start, thinking he was back in Tenavae. But the white walls reminded him he was at the healing house in Montana, a place they called hospital. He squirmed, attempting to get comfortable in the padded chair on which he’d fallen asleep. Only sheer exhaustion had forced his eyes to close after keeping watch in Alora’s room all night. It certainly wasn’t that he didn’t care that Alora lay, motionless on the bed, with strange clear ropes attached to her arms. On the contrary, he cared a great deal. She was no closer to waking than when she collapsed at Beth’s home.

  And it’s all my fault.

  Early in the morning, Markaeus had overheard Jireo’s private conversation with Stone Clan’s chief of farsight, Darielle. Jireo explained how Alora had followed Markaeus to Portshire and then passed out after transporting all of them back to Montana. And how the following day she’d passed out again after burning herself, and had yet to wake up.

  Markaeus knew what Jireo was thinking, though he never made a direct accusation—Alora would be perfectly fine if she hadn’t encountered her father in Portshire, which only happened because she’d had to rescue Markaeus.

  So Markaeus would be responsible for Alora’s death, and with it, Kaevin’s death as well. He would lose his family again. And everyone would hate him.

  They should. I hate myself.

  Kaevin and Jireo had spent the night, as well, and Markaeus could hear them speaking quietly. But other voices joined in—Beth, Wesley, and Daegreth—who must’ve arrived while he was sleeping