Alora Page 9

  The bush parted, and her face appeared, her eyes wide as an owl’s. “What are you doing here?”

  “I... uhm... Do you wish me to leave you in privacy? Were you going to... uhm... to bathe?”

  “Of course not,” she retorted. “Were you hoping to catch me bathing?”

  “No! No, I promise not. I have been looking for you.”

  “Why?” Her head disappeared as the branches snapped back together.

  “I came to tell you—”

  The words stuck in his throat as she appeared on the path, her fury transmitting in her furrowed brows and clenched fists. Fire made her gray eyes sparkle like molten silver.

  “I don’t believe I’m interested in anything you have to say.” Marching around him, she raced back up the path.

  “What if I carry a message for Raelene?” he asked, shuffling behind her.

  She stopped, turning her head and narrowing her eyes. “Raelene? What does she say?”

  “The message is for Raelene, not from her. I simply noted Raelene’s fatigue and wondered if you might be persuaded to attend to her in the archives. Of course, I helped as much as I could, but she requires someone with scholarly gifting.”

  “I’ll gladly help Raelene.”

  She continued up the winding trail, and he struggled to keep pace.

  “You’ll come with me now?”

  “I can’t come now.” She stopped, gesturing at the large rock, littered with dried clothes. “Tell her I will come the moment I finish my duties. I must gather and fold the wash, then collect water for the house.”

  He spied two pails stacked on the corner of the rock.

  “Perhaps I can help you with your duties,” he suggested.

  “You would do that for me?” The broad smile she flashed—a rare sighting—almost took his breath away.

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  “Very well, I accept. Thank you, Bardamen. I’m off to render aid to Raelene.”

  “But—”

  “I will be certain to commend you to Raelene, and also to my grandfather, for your generous offer.”

  “But—”

  “Do not forget to fetch the water. Four bucketfuls should do.”

  Her merry laugh twittered behind her as she skipped away.

  Bardamen kicked his foot out in frustration, stubbing his toe on the rock. With a yelp of pain, he hopped on one foot until he lost his balance and fell, narrowly missing a bush covered in sharp thorns.

  “Bright!” he yelled. “Bright, bright, bright!”

  The only answer was the whisper of the wind through the tree branches.

  And then... he laughed.

  She beat me again. Next time, I shall be on my guard.

  ~9~

  After her morning session with Laethan, Alora’s entire body felt like a bowl of cooked spaghetti noodles. Though she hated being there, she couldn’t find the strength to crawl off the healing bed. It was still Laethan’s healing house, at least for now.

  The prior night, Graely held a council meeting, during which he had Laethan make a formal confession to the entire council, including Alora and Kaevin. Though he’d known the truth for several days, Graely glared as if Judas had just kissed him.

  All the members reacted with shock to the announcement, but Nordamen had been particularly angry Laethan had hidden his empathy gift, ranting he couldn’t be trusted. Chaleah chided herself for not questioning the chief healer about his gifting, though he’d already earned his position before she became chief judge of Stone Clan. Thalaena sat in stately silence, not being an actual council member yet, and Alora wondered if she might not be such a stickler for rules.

  Laethan made no move to defend his actions, which annoyed Alora to no end. Yet she didn’t have the strength to shout above the fray—to defend the man to whom she now felt so indebted, despite the pain she had to endure from his “treatments.”

  No, it was Kaevin who had spoken up, silencing the unruly council members and commanding their attention.

  “Are you all still so rigid you cannot bend a law instated for reasons that obviously don’t apply in this case? Can you not see God’s hand in this matter? If Laethan had followed the command, not only would he have wasted his talents all these years, but Alora and I would surely be dead in a matter of days. As always, Laethan made the unselfish choice. He saved Alora’s life, revealing his secret, knowing he must risk the wrath and judgment of the council to do so. By his character and his years of unflinching selfless service as Stone Clan’s chief healer, he has proven himself worthy. Would that I could be half as honorable as Laethan.”

  In the stony silence following his outburst, Kaevin had coughed and turned beet red. But Alora had never been so proud of her soulmate.

  He’s growing up. Becoming a man. Standing against injustice.

  Whatever the reason for his unlikely speech, it had turned the tide of emotion in the room. At least, she thought Kaevin’s speech had done it. She knew, however, that Laethan could have manipulated their emotions, though he raged at her for doing that very thing.

  Morvaen, who hadn’t seemed the least bit bothered by Laethan’s announcement anyway, suggested the council should postpone judgment and move on to more important matters like discussing the appearance of the new portals and the action that should be taken. From there, the meeting grew even more heated, lasting well into the night and leaving her totally exhausted in the morning, even before she began her daily “Agony” session. The title came from her, as she didn’t think Laethan’s term, Residual Pain Extraction, was an apt description.

  After observing an entire morning of pain extraction, Kaevin had been pacing the floor and pulling at his hair, though Laethan shielded Kaevin from pain with precision born from years of practice wielding his gift of empathy. Kaevin shouted and argued with Laethan, so insistent that the healer had finally thrown his hands in the air and agreed to let him participate.

  White-faced, Kaevin formed one arc of the circle, his hands gripping hers as Laethan probed through her psyche, unearthing the pain she’d worked so hard to suppress and pushing at it until it rushed out in excruciating torrents. Five minutes seemed like an hour, until Laethan’s grip would slip away, giving her a momentary respite. Falling back in his chair with beads of sweat on his forehead, Laethan took deep breaths and drank copious amounts of water.

  Though he denied it, Alora suspected Laethan bore even more pain than she did. But Kaevin’s participation had made a noticeable difference in lessening the pain’s effect. As a result, Laethan added more time to the sessions, complaining he had barely scratched the surface.

  He explained when he first found the pain-filled well, pinched closed at the top by Alora’s tight inner shield, the pain sloshed out at the slightest emotional bump. She’d stuffed everything inside that well, both emotional and physical pain, and he described it as a swollen boil, on the verge of rupturing.

  Indeed, it had made her entire body sick. Before Dr. Sanders returned through the portal, hauling a protesting Beth with him, he’d mentioned a yellow tinge in Alora’s eyes could indicate her liver wasn’t functioning properly. Laethan, who probably had no idea what a liver was, yelled in Doc’s face, saying he could provide the treatment Alora needed to recover without Doc’s interference. Then Laethan scheduled even more Agony sessions, until his eyes were bloodshot and his skin sallow. Kaevin looked almost as bad, and Alora was grateful there was no mirror around.

  Her guilt grew as she watched the two men suffer with her pain, so she observed Laethan’s methods until she was certain she could navigate her mind and proceed on her own.

  Maybe I can let it out without Laethan’s help and just feel the pain by myself, like any other burn victim would’ve done. I’m strong enough. I can stand the pain, and then no one else needs to suffer.

  She was supposed to be napping, to recover from the morning’s efforts. But while she lay, limp-noodled on the lumpy straw-stuffed mattress, she contemplated how she might get a
way—far enough to extract the pain on her own, but not so far that she could get in trouble where no one could reach her.

  She was alone for the moment. The clinic was empty, and Laethan was resting at his home. Kaevin had dragged himself to fetch them both some lunch. Alora didn’t have the energy to make an escape right now, but she could experiment with her pain—test it to make sure she could release it as Laethan had.

  She probed. The moment her mind touched the festering pocket, she felt a hint of the customary pain. The opening was pinched tight. Laethan had warned she wouldn’t survive if he dumped it all at once, so she gently teased the opening in her mind with a mental toothpick. A single drop of pain oozed out, black and oily. The pain seared her body like acid as it escaped, but she didn’t cry out.

  It worked! I can do it and keep it under control. I’ll find a place to hide until I get it totally empty, no matter how long it takes. I refuse to continue hurting the people I love.

  “Hey, Alora.”

  Arista’s voice startled her out of her skin.

  “Oh! Hi... what’re you doing here?”

  Arista held up a large basket covered with a woven cloth. “I’ve got midday dinner. We’re coming to eat with you and Kaevin.”

  “Who’s coming?”

  “Jireo, Markaeus and I.”

  Alora swung her legs off the bed, struggling to sit up. Arista rushed to help her, supporting her shoulders with surprising strength. But Alora felt a wave of nausea, her mouth filling with saliva as her discernment gift flared, indicating evil in close proximity.

  There was no mistaking it... the evil came from Arista.

  It was kind of weird. Rather than emanating from inside Arista, the evil clung to her, like when your clothes smell like smoke after you roast marshmallows. Where could she have picked up the scent of evil?

  “Arista... have you been traveling lately? I mean, have you been anywhere outside of Laegenshire?”

  “Of course” she replied, laying a cloth across an empty bed and spreading the selection of dried meats, goat cheese, berries, and a crusty fire-baked bread known as sabmel. “I hunt in the surrounding woods, every day.”

  “Ha! That’s not what Papa says.”

  Arista jumped, swatting at her brother. “Jireo! You frightened me.”

  “A warrior should always be on guard. That shows you still lack the years to be a dependable warrior.” He placed a jug on the makeshift table. “I’ve brought water. Markaeus and Kaevin are coming with mugs.”

  As always, Jireo delighted in baiting his sister about her non-warrior status although he still lacked a year of having the nineteen required to be officially labeled a warrior. However, Morvaen had made allowances for both he and Kaevin to fight alongside the other warriors, since their defender bond enhanced their giftings, a situation that caused no end of irritation to his sister. Arista painted a nonchalant smile on her face, but Alora could sense her frustration.

  “What did Papa say about me?” She dropped the empty basket on the floor and kicked it under the bed.

  “Nothing I haven’t observed for myself since returning two days ago. You claim you’d rather hunt and provide for the family than help with cooking or tending the garden, yet you sleep late every day.”

  “But I only want to be a warrior. Setting snares adds nothing to my skill, and I can’t hunt with a bow without journeying a day or more away.” Her lower lip protruded. “I’ve no one to travel with since you’ve been in Montana.”

  “Ah, so you’re losing your weapons skill. Morvaen may not want you as a warrior, even after you have nineteen years.”

  “I’ve not lost my skill.” Arista twisted, her hand flashing. In an instant, her hand was at her brother’s throat, the blade of a wooden spoon against his jugular.

  “Very nice, sister.” Jireo murmured. “But I’ve already impaled your heart.”

  Arista sucked in a shocked breath, looking down to where Jireo held a similar wooden “knife” against her chest.

  “I was faster,” she argued.

  A merry chuckle burst from Jireo’s lips. “I wouldn’t be so certain. I believe even Alora might be faster than you. You should see how she wields a knife now, even without gifting. I taught her how to...”

  The words died on Jireo’s lips as his eyes locked on something behind Alora. Ice cold fury rippled up the back of Alora’s neck, as she heard something shatter on the floor.

  “Don’t stop speaking simply because I’m here,” said Kaevin in a voice as glacial as his wrath. “I’d love to know what you and Alora have been doing behind my back.”

  “Jireo taught Alora how to use a knife.” Markaeus piped in, having obviously arrived with Kaevin.

  Bracing herself, Alora turned to face him.

  There wasn’t even a hint of humor on his face. “Is that so? What else did he teach her, Markaeus?”

  Alora made a don’t-say-any-more face at Markaeus, but he didn’t catch it.

  “He taught her knife fighting and how to shoot a bow and arrow and how to transport him about during a fight. It was supposed to be a surprise, but now it’s spoiled.”

  From the pained look on Jireo’s face, Alora figured he regretted involving Markaeus in their training sessions. But there’d been little choice after the night he discovered them practicing in the barn. The impudent little brat had seen the light from his window, and he was too curious for his own good.

  “Believe me, Markaeus... I’m still surprised,” Kaevin growled.

  “Don’t be mad, Kaevin,” Alora begged. “It was my idea, and I talked Jireo into helping me.”

  “That’s supposed to make me feel better? My soulmate and my defender brother work together to deceive me, and I’m supposed to be glad it was your idea?”

  “Kaevin—” Jireo began.

  “Brightness! I don’t even have to ask why you kept it a bright secret. You knew I wouldn’t approve, and you did it anyway.

  Anger. Bitterness. A sense of betrayal.

  Emotions pounded on the tender spot in Alora’s brain.

  “Kaevin, please listen,” she pleaded. “I needed something to make me feel safer. I can’t stand the idea of being helpless again when Vindrake could attack at any time.”

  “That’s my responsibility—to protect you.”

  Hurt.

  She’d heard this ridiculous caveman argument before. “Why? Just because you’re a man? I might get you having this attitude if we lived in Montana, but in Tenavae, a woman can be a warrior.”

  “But you’re not a warrior, and I am. You’re my soulmate, and my role is to protect you from harm.”

  Fear.

  “I want to do my part in protecting you, too. Can’t you see that?” Alora begged.

  “What I see is that you don’t trust me to take care of you. I know the reason you lost your faith—because I failed you once before. You won’t even give me a chance to prove myself.”

  Shame.

  “That’s not what this is about.” Alora clamped her hands on either side of her head, squeezing the pain back. “I want to know how to fight. You can’t always be there for me, Kaevin. We can’t be together twenty-four hours a day. It’s physically impossible.”

  “Then perhaps it’s for the best the council is searching for a way to dissolve our soulmate bond, since you find it so distasteful to be with me all the time.”

  Kaevin spun on his heal, marching toward the door. Alora wanted to cry out for him to stop, to tell him that’s not what she meant, but her head pounded, the room turning on its side. Losing her balance, she fell back on the mattress, her neck lolling off the edge.

  “Are you okay?”

  Arista grabbed her shoulders and heaved her back onto the mattress. “I’ll run, fetch him back here.”

  “No. Wait.” Through her cloud of pain, Alora reached out to draw power from water, allowing the emotions to flow out as Laethan had taught her. Careful not to draw from the soulmate bond, she was pleased to succeed without hurting Kaevi
n. Laethan had promised her that with practice, strong emotions would flow in and out, causing no pain whatsoever once she learned how to keep her sensing gates open.

  As the pain subsided, she once again noted the essence of evil clinging to Arista as the girl hovered at her bedside but decided now wasn’t the time to address it.

  “What should we do?” Arista asked.

  “I’m going to eat,” said Markaeus, grabbing a handful of berries and tossing them into his mouth. He tore off a piece of meat with his teeth, chewing the tough jerky.

  “Perhaps I should talk to him,” Arista proposed. “He’s not angry with me, so he might listen.”

  “I should go to him.” Jireo gave a half-hearted attempt at a joke. “I believe the defender bond will prevent him from killing me.”

  “I’m the only one who can find him, so I’ll go,” said Alora. “But I need to eat something first. I need my strength back from this morning’s session before I have another emotional encounter with Kaevin.”

  “Men!” Arista exclaimed. “They’re only good for one thing.”

  “What’s that?” asked Alora, truly curious about her friend’s opinion.

  “Reaching things I can’t reach. And if we had enough tall women, like Thalaena, we wouldn’t need men at all,” she declared, with a bob of her chin.

  “What about me?” asked Markaeus, around a mouthful of cheese.

  Arista smiled and ruffled his hair. “You’re the exception, Markaeus.” With a sideways glance at her brother, she added, “The only one.”

  **************

  Blaggard returned the sightstone to the pouch, careful to place it back in the small wooden box with the correct label, returning it to the drawer with the others. Five boxes in all... quite a feat. He’d never attempted to empower more than two sightstones at once, much less five concurrent stones. And it had proven much more difficult to imbed the sight in a porous rock before breaking it into twin stones. Not only was the softer rock more resistant to farsight, but once imbued with power, it tended to shatter rather than split in two, like the usual hard mineral stones.

  But he had finally perfected the technique and, after many failures, produced five perfect pairs of sightstones. After soaking the stones in Roseroot oil, the wearer would experience a few day’s worth of stimulation from skin contact, though it was more effective on those who were weak-minded. Still, he had convinced five different citizens to wear the sightstones, each believing they were experiencing exclusive benefits from his newly discovered magick rock quarry.