Book Read Free

Alora

Page 18

by Tamie Dearen


  No wonder the ungifted villagers could stand so long against the Water Clan attack. Vindrake must have brought his worst, most expendable warriors on this trip, perhaps because he expected Glaenshire wouldn’t present a challenge.

  As Alleraen dispensed one life after another, he found no joy in so doing. Their lack of proficiency caused him to wonder how many were fighting only by bloodbond coercion, hoping to end a miserable existence. The scarcity of challenge made him bored... distracted.

  Until a blade sunk into his side.

  His fingers pressed the wound, feeling the warm liquid oozing between them, and the sharp rusty smell of his own blood assaulted his nose. Gasping in surprise and pain, he looked up at his opponent, a woman as tall as Thalaena, sporting at least three prior injuries. Her eyes widened as she twirled her sword in her fingers, dancing in place. She smiled, letting out a hoot of pleasure, and lunged forward. Barely, he dodged her deadly blade.

  All about the square, Water Clan warriors shouted in a strange, coordinated celebration.

  Something had changed.

  ~15~

  From his safe location in the forested hillside above Glaenshire, Vindrake observed the action through a sightstone, reasoning the extra effort required would be balanced out in knowing where he needed to push his will. Following specific instructions, the sightstone warrior hung back, remaining on his horse to provide a clear view of the battle outside the Craedenza.

  What Vindrake saw through the sightstone evoked a string of curses.

  Beginning the fight with enthusiasm, his warriors struck out against the tattered remnants of defenders who demonstrated no aptitude whatsoever with the weapons they held. Yet, each Water Clan warrior would falter after engaging the enemy and turn to slash at their own warriors, despite Vindrake’s sweat-beading efforts to the contrary. Inevitably, the warrior would destroy himself, either by his own blade, or pushing himself onto that of another, despite the fact his bloodbond specifically prevented suicide.

  What kind of shaman possessed such power? Vindrake felt a chill of fear, a sensation almost foreign so long had it been since he’d faced an enemy he considered formidable. Having seen this enemy shaman’s magick overpower his own, he didn’t dare to step foot near the Craedenza, for fear he might take his own life as his warriors had done.

  He had to find and destroy this powerful shaman. If not, his entire force would soon be dead and the journey would be wasted. And he still would have no way to secure the scroll.

  Then Blaggard’s voice invaded Vindrake’s head, adding fuel to his blazing anger.

  “Why do you interrupt me again?”

  “I’m sorry, Master Vindrake, but something happened tonight in Laegenshire. I thought you should know at once.”

  “What? Tell me quickly!”

  “Alora was in Laegenshire, bringing a warrior call from Kaevin. She then transported at least forty warriors... to Glaenshire.”

  “Glaenshire? Are you certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she transport a shaman from Stone Clan, as well? Nordamen? Bardamen?”

  “I know Nordamen is in Laegenshire, for it was he who made the announcement, but I can’t speak to Bardamen’s location.”

  “Very well. Your information is useful,” he admitted. “But don’t disturb me again.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  Blaggard sounded too smug for Vindrake’s liking. But for now, his presence in Laegenshire was still beneficial.

  Vindrake’s mind flew. Alora and Kaevin are here, in Glaenshire. I must find a way to draw them out. And I must destroy that shaman.

  With the knowledge that Stone Clan warriors were present, Vindrake edged his way toward Glaenshire with care, following behind his personal guard as they picked their way through the forest. Sensing their proximity to the magickal barrier, he called them to a halt.

  He examined the ward with begrudging admiration. Stretching as far as he could see, about twenty strides past the bridge, the ward ran in the same direction as the river. Though its efficacy was proven, not even a shimmer disturbed the air. The power he sensed emanating from the barrier was impressive, to say the least. From a cursory look the ward appeared to be continuous, and evenly distributed.

  Vindrake calculated the energy required to erect and maintain such a barrier. To do this and remain alive, I would have to absorb at least one life-force, perhaps two.

  And that’s when he knew. No single shaman had created the barrier and the ward that defeated his bloodbond at the base of the Craedenza. Two, three, or even four shamans must be working together. For a town with no shamans in residence, this was impossible. Unless...

  They knew I was coming. Glaenshire was forewarned. Someone is spying for Graely.

  His fury flared. This is what came of allowing some of his people to operate outside his bloodbond. He would find the traitor and have his revenge.

  Yet this was not the time for vengeance. First he must defeat the shamans. To battle three or four shamans with his magick would require too much energy. But no matter how gifted these shamans might be, they were still human and, as such, susceptible to the same bodily harm as every other person.

  He localized the power source—a stone watchtower. A smart, defendable position. He might have chosen the same. Still, there must be some weakness I can exploit.

  Nearby, someone stepped on a dry twig, which broke with a loud snap, a result of the moisture-less summer that had left the forest floor covered with dead branches and desiccated leaves.

  “Be careful,” he rasped. “The forest is...”

  The forest is dry! His breath caught in his throat. And the roofs are thatched!

  “Quickly! Find a ridged conifer and gather the spiny cones. Twenty or thirty should do. Bowmen, be ready.”

  Almost shouting with glee, Vindrake dug deep inside his carry-sack and withdrew a bag of fire-powder.

  **************

  Alora ignored the wave of dizziness that hit on her return to Laegenshire. I’m probably keeping my emotions inside again—it always makes me feel a little sick. I need to suck it up and admit I’m afraid of meeting my father. I shouldn’t try to suppress it.

  Only two more Stone Clan warriors to transport, and her work would be done. She’d feel better when she was with Kaevin again.

  Before she could leave with the two, Laethan strode beside them and hooked his arm with one of theirs.

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Laethan,” she protested. “Arista already got Doc Sanders to come, and I know the two of you don’t exactly see eye to eye right now. We don’t need a battle inside the healing house.”

  “What does that pretender know about battle wounds?”

  “Well, Uncle Charles says he was a field doctor—a healer—in the Vietnam war, so I guess he knows plenty.”

  His caterpillar eyebrows pushed down, almost obscuring his eyes. “You trust him over me?”

  “Laethan, that’s not fair. Anyway, you liked Doc just fine when he sent you that medicine to stop the Rocky Mountain Tick Fever.”

  “Humph! That was before we met in person. Before he insulted me.”

  “Only because he was worried and frustrated. He’s admitted he was wrong.”

  The warrior on Alora’s right cleared her throat. “Eh-hem. Excuse me, Bearer. Should we be going, now?”

  “Yes. I’ll transport us the second Laethan agrees not to start a fight with the other healer.”

  Both warriors pinned Laethan with disgruntled stares.

  “You don’t frighten me,” he declared. “But, I hereby promise I will not initiate a battle with the so-called healer from Montana.”

  “Awesome.” Alora couldn’t hide her sarcasm, probably because she was so tired. She transported for the umpteenth time that night, landing on wobbly legs. Laethan held her up, narrowing his eyes.

  “When did you last eat, Bearer?”

  “I ate dinner—in fact I ate a lot,” she said, neglecting to mention having throw
n up soon afterwards. She wanted to find food, but first she needed to find Kaevin. She’d been apart from him for too long, and she sensed such strong emotions from him—excitement, anxiety, exhilaration, fatigue, and tension, among others.

  As the two warriors secured blades from the wagon, she felt a strong surge of terror from Kaevin.

  “What’s making you fearful?” Laethan gripped her arm, as if she might crumble to the ground.

  She didn’t bother to ask how he knew. “It’s Kaevin. He’s in pain!”

  Laethan must have read her panic, for he yelled at her just as she prepared to transport to Kaevin.

  “Stop!” He took her hand and set off, dragging her toward the nearby sounds of fighting. “You can’t help him by transporting blindly into the midst of battle.”

  Too tired to properly lift her feet, she stumbled on the edge of a stone, but Laethan saved her from falling. Rounding the corner of the wall leading to the town square all she saw was chaos. Groups of fighting warriors filled the area, now illuminated only by the full moon, as the smell of sweat and blood floated in the air. Yet it was the wave of emotions that almost knocked her to the ground.

  “Close the door to those feelings, Alora. You never need to sense any emotions outside of your own... with the possible exception of Kaevin.”

  “Alora! Up here!”

  Looking up to her right Alora spotted Wesley on the roof of the porch.

  Linking her arm with Laethan’s, she transported them to the flat wooden roof, holding on to him to keep her balance as they landed.

  “We’re not getting many clear shots anymore,” Wesley explained. “It’s too dark and the square’s too crowded. But at least you can see from here. We can’t get any higher than this porch, because all the other roofs are made of thatch and too slanted to stand on.”

  “We’re just waiting up here in case another wendt shows up,” said Brian.

  “Something weird is going on, though,” Wesley added. “About ten minutes ago, it’s like all the Water Clan guys got a second wind. Still, I think we’re winning. There aren’t as many people fighting as before.”

  Alora scanned the area, but she couldn’t find her soulmate.

  “Do you know where Kaevin and Jireo are?”

  Wesley lifted his shoulders. “They’re hard to spot. All the other Stone Clan warriors have on those light-colored vests. I haven’t seen Kaevin or Jireo for the last fifteen minutes. Your uncle’s been ferrying wounded to the healing house in the wagon, with the help of some of the locals. And evidently these Water Clan guys’ll even attack an ambulance wagon, so Arista’s been riding shotgun with her bow. She got bored once we killed the wendt.”

  Brian knelt on the edge of the plank roof, trying to peer over the edge. “They may be fighting under this porch. Or maybe they took people to the healing house.”

  She felt another stab of pain from Kaevin, and squeezed her eyes closed, attempting to shut out the sensation and remain calm. I just need to do my job and trust him to do his.

  Wesley pointed across the square. “There’re a couple of our warriors who’ve been injured, and the wagon can’t get to them. See that guy on the left side? The one lying on the ground with the leather vest? He looks like he’s dead, but I’ve seen him move a few times. Can you see him well enough to transport him to the healing house?”

  “I can get him there.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Laethan. “I can carry him.”

  Without hesitation, Alora moved herself and Laethan beside the man, landing as far from the adjacent battling warriors as possible. Laethan knelt beside him, shoveling him into his arms, and she transported them to the healing house.

  “I’m going back for more injured,” she announced.

  “Are you able?” he asked, raising a single brow.

  She answered with nod. Honestly, she wouldn’t have minded taking a nap if she weren’t desperate to find Kaevin. Transporting back to Wesley, she belatedly hoped Laethan wouldn’t cause a scene with Doc.

  At least I won’t be there to witness it.

  No sooner had she landed than she felt something from Kaevin again... not pain, this time. Terror.

  “Kaevin!”

  She went to him at once. Ignoring the swords clashing around her, she knelt by his prone figure, a knife handle protruding from his upper back. “Kaevin! Kaevin!”

  She bent her ear to his face, trying to understand his mumbled words. “He... kicked me...”

  Beside her, Jireo was shouting at someone. “You stabbed him in the back! I should kill you where you stand!”

  “It was an accident. I thought he was Water Clan. It was dark, and he wore no Stone Clan vest.”

  Looking up, Alora recognized the young warrior... Judaene... the one who’d sparred with Kaevin the day of their big argument. Judaene looked remorseful, though she felt more adrenaline rolling out of him than anything else. Right now, she didn’t care how it happened—she only wanted to save Kaevin.

  “Jireo! Help me take him to the healing house!”

  The fury on Jireo’s face didn’t mask his stark fear.

  Is Jireo’s defender bond warning him? Is Kaevin’s life at risk?

  Alora cradled his head as Jireo shoveled his arms beneath Kaevin’s body, and she transported them to the healing house. In an instant, Laethan was there, pushing her back and peppering Jireo with questions.

  “It was one of our own warriors. I don’t even know his name.” Jireo paced, pulling at his hair. “Said he thought Kaevin was Water Clan. As if he needed to see a vest to know the difference. Kaevin has no bondmark, daylight or dark.”

  Laethan’s usual scowl deepened as he ripped Kaevin’s shirt off, probing the wound around the knife in his upper back just to the side of his spine. “Since when do our warriors stab their enemies in the back? Perhaps Thalaena is the wrong choice to follow Morvaen as weapons master.”

  Kaevin lay motionless on the floor in a growing pool of blood, and Alora felt a drag on her soulmate bond.

  The gathered crowd parted as Doc pushed his way through. “How long is the blade?”

  “About this long.” Jireo indicated the distance from the tip of his thumb to his little finger.

  “Is he conscious?” Doc asked the question of Laethan, who shook his head, darting a nervous glance to Alora.

  Jireo swallowed. “He’s weakening.”

  Markaeus crawled his way between the legs of the gathered crowd. “Laethan, the blood isn’t coming from that knife up there. It’s from down here.”

  Sliding his hand under Kaevin’s stomach, Laethan’s eyebrows arched up. “You’re right—his abdomen is lacerated. Markaeus, you’re gifted with water-source?”

  “Yes,” Markaeus replied in a no-big-deal tone. Pursing his lips, he studied Kaevin’s still body. “He’s got a lot of injuries, but almost all the blood is from this one spot.”

  “Well done, Markaeus,” said Laethan.

  He fairly glowed with Laethan’s praise and would probably have stayed underfoot if Uncle Charles hadn’t called him to the side and whispered something in his ear. Nodding with vigor, Markaeus darted out the door, on some unknown errand.

  Alora didn’t have time to wonder where her uncle had sent him, because she felt herself getting weaker by the second.

  Working in some kind of miraculous harmony, Doc supported Kaevin as Laethan rolled him on his side. Alora’s head swirled when Laethan moved Kaevin’s ripped shirt out of the way, exposing a gaping wound on his stomach, from which blood poured like a faucet.

  Pressing a clean rag into the wound, Laethan caught Doc’s gaze. The two engaged in some kind of silent communication, after which, Laethan asked, “Do you have something that will save him?”

  “Maybe,” Doc replied. “I can’t make promises, but I’ll try.”

  Just once, I wish these doctors would lie and sound optimistic.

  Doc turned his head, calling over his shoulder. “Beth, get me that IV set-up and a bag of saline.” />
  Beth’s here?

  “Already got it.” Beth handed a fluid-filled bag to her stepfather, sparing Alora a pitiful glance. “When I saw all that blood on the floor, I knew we’d be using it..”

  “Should we take him to the hospital in Montana?” asked Uncle Charles, materializing next to Alora and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. His arrival was timely, since her knees had begun to wobble.

  “We’ll move him to Montana as soon as we get him stabilized.” Doc answered the question while attempting to insert a needle into Kaevin’s arm. Laethan watched with unbridled curiosity.

  Doc mumbled, “Honestly, Charles, we don’t have time to squander right now. His chances are just as good right here.”

  Alora’s legs were trembling so hard, she was glad she didn’t have to attempt another transport at that moment.

  Struggling with the needle, Doc lost his temper, cursing before making another attempt. “He’s lost so much blood, I can’t find the vein... There! Finally!”

  “Let’s get him off the floor.” Laethan issued orders, and people scrambled to follow them. In seconds, Kaevin was on a bed with an assistant keeping pressure on his stomach wound.

  Doc handed the IV bag to Jireo. “Hold this. Since you’re obviously not leaving, you can make yourself useful.”

  Laethan barked, “Here, Alora. You stand by his head and hold his hand. Kiss him, if you must. For once, I’ll not complain of impropriety. Use that bond to keep your soulmate alive.”

  “I can’t work on his abdomen with this knife handle sticking out of his back,” Doc murmured, though the explanation was probably meant for Alora rather than Laethan, who was already jerking the blade free. Fastening a wad of clean cloth over the wound to apply pressure, they rolled Kaevin to his back.

  “I’ll need a lot of clean rags to soak up the blood, so I can see the damage.”

  As if by magic, Beth appeared with a pile of white cloths.

  Mumbling something about “barbaric conditions” and “infections,” Doc pulled on a pair of latex gloves and ripped open a paper bag full of instruments.

  “Suture,” he announced, handing some of the surgical instruments to Laethan. “For both of us. The way I see it, we’ve got a fighting chance if I start at the top and you start at the bottom.”

 

‹ Prev