Alora: The Portal

by Tamie Dearen

  “I transported it somewhere, but it will probably come right back. I never did learn how to send something beyond my vision. If I can’t see the place I’m transporting to, it would have to be a place I can picture really well.”

  “Look, Alora! There’s another one, way up above us. Let me see if I can shoot it.” Wesley pointed toward the huge full moon overhead.

  Morvaen still couldn’t see what Wesley was aiming for, but he watched the arrow fly in a graceful arc and fall to the ground, its path obviously unaltered by impact with a target.

  Wesley shouted a word Morvaen had never heard. “I missed him. He’s too far away to shoot without my compound bow.”

  “Look, the first one is coming back.” Alora pointed with one hand, covering her mouth with the other. “I knew I couldn’t get rid of him. Over there—he’s flying over on that building.”

  “If only our other archers were able to see them,” said Jireo. “We need several archers working together with longbows.”

  “I could send Wesley close to that wendt over there,” Alora suggested. “Maybe we could go to that other rooftop.”

  “No, the arrows have iron heads, so we’d lose them in transport,” said Jireo.

  “I can transport the wendts away once they get close enough for me to see them clearly,” Alora explained, “but I can’t send them very far. I could send them to a place I know really well. Like… I could send them to the healing house.”

  “Don’t do that!” Morvaen hurried to object.

  “I wouldn’t actually do that. I was just giving an example.”

  “Perhaps if you continued to transport the wendts to the edge of your vision, we might have time to determine another solution.” Kaevin’s voice was encouraging, but Alora appeared unconvinced.

  “There’s got to be something else I can do.”

  More screeches and screams interrupted them again, and all eyes turned toward the sounds.

  “I don’t see them. I think the noise came from the other side of that building,” said Wesley, still standing with his bow at the ready.

  Morvaen’s mind was spinning. “Perhaps a shaman could remove the masking over the creatures. Between our long swords and our archers, my warriors could kill them if they were visible.”

  “I’ve got it!” Kaevin grabbed her arm. “You could send me to Father—isn’t that true?”

  “Yes, but I can’t guarantee any better landing than the one that sent you to the kitchen sink. Do you want to go to your father without me?”

  “No. I want you to send that wendt to Vindrake.”

  As the idea sunk in, her visage bloomed in a smile. “That’s a great idea. I’ve just got to be close enough to see one clearly so I can transport it. Wesley? Do you see them?”

  As more screams emanated from beyond their vision, Wesley pointed out over a row of stone structures. “I can’t see either one now, but I think they’re on the other side of those buildings. What should we do?”

  Morvaen felt five sets of eyes on him, waiting for direction. He spit out orders as was his custom, albeit with a confidence he didn’t feel. “First priority is to position Alora close to the wendts. Jireo, you’ll be the scout. I know you just recovered your blades, but give them to Wesley for safekeeping. He can carry them to you on foot. Alora, send Jireo as far as you can. Jireo, you locate the wendts and whistle to call for Kaevin and Alora from a protected location.”

  “We could just go with Jireo,” Alora suggested.

  “No, I don’t want you two wandering around where one of Vindrake’s men could find you.”

  “We sure could use a cell phone or two,” Wesley remarked, eliciting a chuckle from Alora and Kaevin.

  “Raemeon and I will retrieve our weapons and follow as quickly as possible, along with Wesley,” said Morvaen.

  “Ready Jireo?” asked Alora. “I apologize ahead of time for your landing.”

  “Why are you apologizing?” asked Jireo as he handed his weapons to Wesley.

  “I haven’t really perfected this part of my gift. And the farther I send you, the rougher the landing will probably be.”

  Jireo seemed to be reconsidering. “Perhaps I might simply run fast.”

  “We’ve no time to waste, Alora,” said Morvaen. “Send him now.”

  She nodded and, a breath later, Jireo appeared on the ground beside a distant water trough.

  “That wasn’t too bad, Alora,” said Kaevin.

  “He landed on his back, and he’s not moving.” Alora wrung her hands together.

  Morvaen’s throat tightened. Perhaps he’d made a poor decision, asking Alora to transport Jireo closer to the area where the wendts were wreaking havoc. It wouldn’t save time if he had a broken leg or back.

  “Do you think you knocked him out?” asked Wesley. “Wait, he’s moving. Look he’s getting up. I think you just stunned him for a minute.”

  Jireo struggled to his feet and stood, bending over, rubbing his back, before limping off to disappear behind the stone building.

  “We should start down now,” Morvaen said, urging Wesley and Raemeon ahead of him toward the trellis.

  “Morvaen, do you want me to send you back where I found you, so you don’t have to climb?” Alora offered.

  His mouth went dry as he scrambled for an excuse. “Thank you, child. I’ll simply climb down on my own, so you can concentrate on listening for Jireo’s whistle.”

  He let out the breath he was holding when she accepted his answer with a nod and a smile.

  The other two reached the ground before Morvaen started down the trellis. The rails bent beneath his feet, so he attempted to step near the cross pieces where the wood had the best chance of supporting his considerable mass. Two arms spans before he reached the bottom, a crack announced a splitting rung beneath his boot. As he jerked his weight to the other foot, another rail broke, and the entire trellis collapsed. Falling to the ground in an ungraceful heap, he lay without moving for a moment. He opened his eyes to the worried stares of Wesley and Raemeon.

  “Are you okay?” asked Wesley, just before a faint whistle sounded in the distance.

  “I’m fine. Only knocked the breath from me.” He groaned as Wesley and Raemeon helped him to his feet.

  “Perhaps you should have taken Alora up on her offer,” said Wesley with a wry grin.

  “I think I made the best choice.” Morvaen loosed a rumbling laugh. “After watching her transport Jireo, I can’t imagine those wendts will survive the landing if she sends them far away.”

  ~ 3 ~

  Struggling to breathe, Daegreth battled an intense pain in his chest. Am I dead? Am I in hell? As his thoughts coalesced into clear patterns, his eyes fluttered opened. He blinked hard to focus on his surroundings, recognizing he was inside a room. Vindrake’s vile presence still pervaded his mind, so he wasn’t dead. Not yet. However, gauging from the pain, his body was severely injured. Surely I will die soon. Perhaps holding my breath will hasten my passing.

  “Ah, so you’re awake.” A black-haired man with intense green eyes fixed in a scowl spoke while pushing on his chest.

  Daegreth groaned at the searing agony, jerking against his bindings, unable to budge even a finger-width.

  “I know that hurts, but you’ve lost a lot of blood, and I’ve been unable to stop the bleeding.” His deep scowl became almost sympathetic. “You should make your peace with God.”

  “Why?” he croaked.

  “What do you ask me? Why can’t I save your life? Or why should you make your peace with God?”

  “Why are you helping me? Please let—” His words cut off; the bloodbond wouldn’t let him ask for the release of death.

  “I’m a healer. I’ve sworn to help every man, no matter his allegiance or his actions. Judging is a matter best left to God.” His eyes widened. “Your eyes are brown?”

  “Yes. I was Sun Clan, but now I serve Vindrake and Water Clan.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

  The deep furrow of the h
ealer’s brows lessened slightly. “That is a shame. Since you have Vindrake’s bondmark, I cannot release you. Still, I will do what I can to save your life. And if I cannot, I pray your passing will be easy.”

  The healer’s face danced before Daegreth’s eyes as they filled with unshed tears. Even the man’s rough tending and harsh words were the kindest actions aimed toward him since before his best friend’s untimely death. Yet he didn’t even deserve that small compassion. He closed his eyes and waited to die, certain the fires of hell would not be as hard to bear as Vindrake’s presence inside his consciousness.

  A sudden image invaded his mind—a young man on the roof as he lost his footing and fell, sliding toward the edge. His eyes popped open, spying the healer who’d turned to leave.

  “Wait… There was a boy on the roof with me.”

  “Yes.” Black bushy brows bunched like dark caterpillars over the healer’s squinting eyes. “What of him?”

  Daegreth tested his blood fealty. Would it allow him to ask the boy’s fate?

  “I simply wondered if the boy lives.”

  The caterpillars arched high. “Yes, he lives. In fact, I understand you collapsed on top of him, preventing him from falling off the roof.”

  Daegreth’s heart leapt in his chest. He’d done something good—something contrary to Vindrake’s wishes. Though it was an accident over which he had no control, something good had happened because of him. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

  “You smile at this? Did you want the boy to survive? Were you not attempting to kill him at the time?”

  His mouth curved itself into a sneer, and the words of fealty sprang unbidden to his lips. “I freely and gladly serve my master, Vindrake. I want only for his will to be accomplished.”

  The healer’s scowl returned. “As I thought. What is your name, young man?”

  “I am Daegreth, servant of Vindrake, the ruler of Water Clan.”

  “Daegreth, take my advice. Make your peace with God, for I’ve done all I can do for you.”

  As the healer moved to tend another wounded man, Daegreth’s face relaxed in a smile. The pain was intense, but he welcomed it as a herald to the anticipated death to come.

  *****

  Alora peered from the hiding place between two wood-sided buildings. She could see warriors engaged in battle but no sign of the wendts.

  “Are you sure the wendts are here, Jireo?”

  “Of course I can’t see them, but I heard their screeching. And I saw one Stone Clan warrior carried off.” He turned his head away, swallowing hard. At least she hadn’t witnessed that horrible event. “I’m going back to find Wesley and get my blade. You no longer have need for me, correct?”

  “Do you want me to send you back to Wesley?” she asked.

  His eyes grew wide. “No! That is… you have more important things to do. I’ll find him myself.” He slipped away before she could protest.

  Kaevin pointed overhead. “Take us up—we’ll have a better vantage point.”

  Joining hands, she moved them to the roof, happy to find it relatively flat. Only moments later, shrill screeching greeted their ears.

  “Do you see it?” he asked, staring in the general direction of the sound.

  “Yes, but it’s too far away.”

  Below, terrified Stone Clan warriors began to scatter, seeking shelter from the invisible winged monsters. Even knowing their bondmark protected them from the wendts, the Water Clan warriors were ducking into hiding as well. Having witnessed it in the last battle, Alora knew the creature would snatch victims and fly away, tearing them apart in the air. She had to transport the beast somewhere before he could reach his target.

  “I can’t lock onto it from here. It’s got to get closer. What if I can’t do it?” Alora’s muscles were trembling with her nerves on high alert.

  “You can do it. I believe in you.”

  Taking courage from the pressure of Kaevin’s hand and his mumbled words of reassurance, Alora set her mind on sending the wendt to Vindrake, wherever he might be. As the wendt approached, his proximity spurred a new wave of nausea, eliciting dry heaves in her now-empty stomach. The sinewy monster circled the open area as warriors scattered in all directions, fleeing from the shrieking attacker. The ambling flight altered. A straight line. Diving toward a warrior who pounded desperately against a door. Faster. A piercing squawk. The warrior turned toward the sound and screamed his terror. He ran. The wendt closed in on his target.

  “Go, go, go. Please go,” Alora muttered under her breath. “It’s not going to work. Oh God, please! It’s not going to work. Please, please go.” The wendt swooped down. Long talons stretched toward the fleeing figure.

  The wendt disappeared. Alora sagged in relief. I did it. I sent him somewhere. I hope he went all the way to Vindrake in Water Clan. She found herself wrapped in Kaevin’s arms, her tears wetting his shirt. When did I start crying?

  “I’m proud of you, Alora. I knew you could do it.” He stroked his hands on her back, kissing the top of her head.

  Whipping her head around as another shriek sounded, she spotted a wendt flying their direction.

  “Is it coming back already?” asked Kaevin.

  “No, it’s a different one. This one is smaller. I hope there aren’t many more of these things.”

  “You can transport it away,” he urged. “You did it once—you can do it again.”

  He stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders as she put all her energy into her task. But this wendt wasn’t tracking one of the Stone Clan warriors. The hideous monster was soaring in a straight line toward her and Kaevin. She clenched her teeth against the scream threatening to burst from her lungs.

  “Alora? Do you see it?”

  Frozen in fear, she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t think—she could only feel. Panic. Terror. Dread. Repulsive wickedness.

  “Alora, where is it? Did you send it away?”

  She lifted a shaking finger toward the plummeting wendt. I can’t do it. It’s not working.

  He stepped in front, tucking her behind his back, but she knew Kaevin couldn’t save them. We’re going to die. The beast approached with his huge jaws gaping, until he was so close she could see blood and tissue on the razor teeth.

  Alora screamed, burying her face in Kaevin’s arm.

  “Alora! Kaevin! Where have you been? You didn’t have permission to transport anywhere.”

  Alora heard Uncle Charles ranting, but his voice sounded small compared to the blood pounding inside her head. We’re alive! We escaped the wendt! She flung her arms around Kaevin, sobbing.

  He held her tight, as if he could squeeze her terror away. “Shhhh, everything is fine. We’re alive. Calm down.”

  “Kaevin? What happened?” Raelene asked.

  “Yes, what’s going on here?” asked Charles.

  “Vindrake attacked Laegenshire, and we’re outnumbered. He sent wendts, at least two of them. For some reason only Alora and Wesley can see them.”

  “Wesley? You took Wesley to Laegenshire?”

  Alora cringed at the anger in her uncle’s voice.

  “Truthfully, Mr. Whitford, Beth grabbed Alora’s arm at the moment we transported, so both she and Wesley went to Laegenshire with us.”

  “And you left them there?” asked Raelene.

  “I panicked. I was trying to send the wendts back to Vindrake.” Alora swiped her sleeve across her face to brush away the tears. “The Stone Clan warriors couldn’t see them to kill them. And Wesley couldn’t shoot them from far away without a long bow. I sent one away, but then the other one was… It was coming right at us, and—”

  “And you saved our lives.” Kaevin tightened his embrace. “But we must go back.”

  “Go back? You think I’m going to let you go back?” The blood vessels stood out on the side of Charles’ red face. “And did you tell your father you came without permission?”

  “To be quite honest, he never asked. He was only concerned with
the battle. After this is over, we will accept any punishment you deem appropriate. Stone Clan warriors are dying, Mr. Whitford. They can’t defend against a monster they can’t see. We must return so Alora can eliminate the other wendt.”

  “And we will go with you,” said Raelene, placing a hand on Charles’ arm.

  He looked as if he might explode, but then his bluster flew away like a popped balloon. “Fine. Let me grab my pack.”

  Alora shot her eyes over to her grandmother, whose serene smile gave no hint of explanation for her uncle’s accommodating attitude. Was something going on between the two? She shivered at the thought of her uncle and grandmother in a relationship. It was too weird. Although her uncle wasn’t actually related to her at all, as she’d discovered only two months earlier.

  Over his shoulders, Uncle Charles slipped a cloth backpack she knew was filled with medicines, bandages, zip ties, duct tape, waterproof matches, and ceramic knives—transportable items that had proven to be helpful in Kaevin’s realm of Tenavae.

  “Are you having any head pain with all this transporting?” Raelene linked arms between her and Uncle Charles.

  “It’s funny, Grandmother. Our heads were hurting, but the pain disappeared when we went to Laegenshire.”

  “Good.” Uncle Charles’ voice was sullen. “You don’t need to do any more kissing, then.”

  She saw Kaevin biting back a grin. Uncle Charles’ objection to their kissing was a daily occurrence, though he recognized the occasional necessity.

  Ignoring her uncle’s jibe, she asked, “Where should I take us? I don’t guess we want to go right back to that roof-top.”

  All humor left Kaevin’s face as he replied, “We should transport Raelene and your uncle to the healing house. Then we will return to battle the wendts.”

  She shuddered. What had the wendt done after she and Kaevin had transported to Montana? Had he killed another warrior? Were Jireo and Wesley in danger from the monster now?

  “I know what I have to do. I promise I won’t freak out this time.”

  “I believe in you.” Kaevin squeezed her hand. “Take us to Laethan.”