by Tamie Dearen
Without hesitation, Laethan accepted the proffered instruments, and seemed to easily figure out what to do with the modern stuff.
“Your healing tools are quite impressive. The needle is curved and sharp, and the thread is already attached.”
Jireo gripped the IV bag with white-knuckled fingers. “Please. We must hurry.”
Bending over, Alora pressed her mouth to Kaevin’s, somehow expecting him to respond, but his cold lips never moved. Something scraped on the floor behind her, and a bed slid under her legs, just in time to prevent her collapse.
Slipping his supporting arm back around her waist, Uncle Charles perched beside her on the end of the bed. “We could be here a while, so this should help.”
“At least you can all get back,” Alora murmured. “I mean, if we don’t make it, you can use the portal Markaeus made.”
“Shhh,” he rubbed her shoulder. “Don’t say that. Everything will be fine.”
Jireo’s fear told a different story, and he refused to look her in the eye. She knew Jireo was terrified Kaevin would die.
So am I.
“Uncle Charles... thanks for everything you’ve ever done. For taking me in and loving me and raising me.”
“Shhhh. You don’t have to say anything. You’re the best thing that ever happened to Lena and me. Just stop talking like you’re going to die.”
“Still, I want you to know how grateful I am. I know I’ve rebelled a few times when I thought you were being too controlling. I want you to know I’m sorry.”
“You know how much I love you, Alora.”
“I love you too, Uncle Charles. And I’m really sorry for breaking Aunt Lena’s antique lamp a year ago.”
Leaning away, he looked down his nose at her, crossing his arms. “You told me Bozeman knocked it off the table with his tail.”
“I know that’s what I said, but I lied. And I felt guilty about it for a whole year. I’m really glad to get it off my chest.”
“You lied to me?”
“Yes, but you can’t be mad at me. I’m about to die.”
“I can’t believe you lied,” he growled.
Good grief! If I survive this, Uncle Charles is going to ground me.
The door crashed open and Arista rushed in, shouting in breathless tones.
“Glaenshire’s on fire!”
**************
By the time Vindrake’s guard gathered the cones and the archers were in place, the magickal barrier had disappeared. It was a fortunate development in that his warriors were once again gifted, and his archers could move closer to their targets. However, he could no longer sense the shamans working inside the tower and feared they’d escaped. Had they somehow perceived the fire danger and moved to a protected location, perhaps inside the Craedenza on the bare stone hill?
No matter, he’d still proceed with his plan.
Moving down the line, each archer dipped a sap-tipped arrow into the sack of fire-powder, which burst into flames a breath after emerging from the sack. As the fiery arrows shot through the air and landed on the thatched roofs, magickal fire exploded, with sparks flying and fire spreading to the surrounding trees, as well. The steady wind fanned the flames, and within a few breaths, Glaenshire was alight and burning like a tinder box.
With the fire burning to his satisfaction, Vindrake turned his attention to his sightstone to view the Craedenza battle, expecting to find his warriors fighting according to his bloodbond compulsion. Instead, he watched the last three of his warriors destroy themselves.
Furious, he forced his will on the lone mounted warrior who wore the sightstone, sending him galloping forward to trample the three tattered Craedenza defenders who remained on their feet. But the horse balked at the edge of the foundation stone, rearing up and dumping his warrior in an unceremonious pile. Clambering to his feet, the warrior took three wooden steps forward onto the sparkling stone, his sword in hand ready to attack, but a shift in the wind sent heavy smoke to obscure the scene from the sightstone.
Vindrake growled deep in his throat, squeezing his fists until his nails bit into his skin. Retreat was not an option—too much was at stake. The opportunity to kill Alora and Kaevin. The necessity of controlling the Craedenza to recover his scroll.
I must finish the task myself.
**********
Hanging onto his consciousness by a gossamer thread, Bardamen struggled to hold the trapped gifts, which pushed to escape like a thousand insects struggling in a web.
Though he could no longer feel pain, his other senses were magnified. The rough stone of the floor, cool against his face. The crickets chirping from far below the tower walls, echoing as loud as screams in his ears. The wind gusting through watchtower window openings, swirling the dust against his skin. The effort required drawing a breath into his lungs.
But after a time, his stubborn will lost its battle, and his mind faded to blackness. And all the captured gifts raced back to their rightful owners, like roaches running from the lamplight.
Bardamen never knew when the crickets stopped their strident song. As the thick, acrid smoke billowed through the windows, his eyes never noticed the obscured moonlight. Nor did he feel the burning sensation of smoke filling his lungs.
**************
“Glaenshire’s on fire!”
Arista’s words set off a flurry of shouts as almost every able bodied citizen in the healing house darted outside.
Meravelle wasn’t concerned about fire damage to the Craedenza—built of rock and isolated as it was on top of the stony outcropping that served as its foundation. Even the healing house was safe from fire, with its walls of thick clay and slate roof. But most of the other buildings and homes had thatched roofs, and a fire would spread quickly, destroying much of Glaenshire and the surrounding forest as well.
It was in that moment that a horrifying thought made her heart turn over inside her chest.
“Bardamen!” she shouted into the fray. “Has anyone seen Bardamen?”
No one seemed to hear her, so she hurried to Raelene, whose concentration was centered on the two healers frantically working on Kaevin.
“Raelene! Have you seen Bardamen?”
“No.” Her eyes widened. “Were you not the last to see him?”
Mera’s heart raced, the blood pounding in her ears. “I’d just hoped it wasn’t true, but I’m certain he’s trapped.”
“Trapped? How is he trapped?”
“He needed high ground to work his magick, and I sent him to the watchtower in the middle of the forest. If there’s a fire, he has no escape.”
Raelene covered her face with her hands. “Alora is our only hope to save him then, and she may not have the strength.”
Raelene edged her way to stand beside the young bearer sitting near Kaevin’s head and clutching his hand, leaning against her uncle for support. With her pale face and tightly closed eyes, Alora appeared on the verge of death, like her soulmate.
“Alora,” Raelene whispered.
As if it required great effort, Alora slowly opened her eyes. “Yes, Grandmother?”
“How do you feel?”
“Weak... but I’m not ready to give up.”
Raelene let out heavy sigh. “I need to ask you something, but the decision is yours. Bardamen’s life is in danger. Have you the strength to bring him here?”
A tear rolled down her face. “I’ll try. I have to. Kaevin is Stone Clan leader here. If he were awake, he’d choose Bardamen’s life over his.”
Raelene nodded, hugging her close and kissing her cheek. “I love you, Alora, and I believe you can do this. But remember to—”
“Draw from water, wood, or stone, not the soulmate bond,” Alora finished her sentence with a wan smile. “I remember. I love you, too.”
Alora squeezed her eyes shut and scrunched her nose. In the next moment, Bardamen’s body appeared on the floor.
Mera gasped. “Is he dead?”
Both healers stopped for a moment to
look at Bardamen. But before either could make a move, the girl named Beth fell to her knees beside Bardamen, turning him on his back. She put her hand on his neck, leaning her ear next to his mouth.
“He’s not breathing,” she announced. “But he still has a pulse.”
Pinching his nose closed, Beth blew air into his mouth. His chest rose, and Mera thought he’d started breathing on his own. But he remained motionless until the girl sent another breath into his body.
Doc spoke as he continued his work on Kaevin. “Keep it up, Beth. We’re almost done here.”
Mera knelt beside her. “I can help, if you show me what to do.”
**************
Alora didn’t have the strength to keep her eyes open. Her mouth was dry and pasty, but everyone was far too busy to ask for a drink. Everyone except her Uncle Charles, but she’d probably fall over if he left her alone.
“How are we doing, Jireo?” asked Uncle Charles. “What’s that bond of yours saying?”
Jireo swallowed hard, giving his head a small negative shake. “I can’t give you much hope.”
“I don’t think we’re gonna make it,” Alora murmured. “I feel pretty weak.”
“Alora, are you certain you ate your evening meal?” asked Laethan.
Searching her fuzzy memory, Alora tried to recall her dinner. It seemed such a long time ago.
“Yes, I remember going back for seconds.”
“Before you threw up on the rug in Daegreth’s room?”
The question came from Wesley, who must have just arrived, because the bits of his face not smoke-smudged looked green after he got a good view of what Doc and Laethan were doing. “Ugh!! Don’t look, Dad.”
Wesley and Brian came to stand close to her and Uncle Charles, both keeping their backs to the surgery.
Alora closed her eyes again, unable to bear the expression of shock and horror on Wesley’s face. Or the look of pity he gave her.
“What can we do, Charles?” asked Brian. “The Stone Clan warriors are getting the villagers and the horses and animals to safety. But it’s getting pretty smoky outside.
“Find Arista and Markaeus and put our stuff in the portal,” he answered. “Doc says were leaving the moment they’re done.”
“Arista’s already outside, ready to open the portal,” said Wesley.
Uncle Charles mumbled something about Markaeus under his breath.
“Hey Brian!” Doc pointed at Bardamen with his chin. “Can you two carry this guy through the portal? What’s his name? Bart? He’s inhaled smoke, so we need to get him back to Montana. Get him on oxygen.”
“I’m not sure he’ll make it,” said Beth, from the floor, where she heaved rhythmic compressions on Bardamen’s bared chest, an act that appeared more brutal in person than Alora had imagined. “His heart’s not beating anymore.”
Doc shouted a curse word that made Alora’s eyes pop open wide. Throwing his instruments down, he ripped his gloves off. “You got this?” he asked Laethan.
The healer didn’t look up, answering with a muffled grunt.
“Come on, guys—if we hurry we can save this man. I’ve got an AED in my truck, so we can restart his heart.”
In fifteen seconds, Bardamen’s body was out the door, and the healing house was almost deserted, save the few who were too injured to leave their beds. Everyone else had gone to fight the fire or salvage their livestock and belongings.
Laethan never slowed his work, but he probed Alora with more questions. “You lost your dinner, Alora? All of it?”
So fatigued she caught her head bobbing, Alora blinked hard, trying to stay alert.
“I think I threw up most of it, but I’m not sick or anything. It was just being exposed to that scroll. It’s so evil, it made me nauseated just being in the same room with it.”
“I don’t know anything about this scroll to which you refer, nor do I care at the moment.” His words were cutting but, as usual, delivered in a flat tone. “I am, however, concerned that you’ve disregarded the most basic of rules. You’ve utilized your gifts repeatedly this day without keeping your body nourished.”
“I’m sorry,” she retorted. “I’ve been a little busy.”
His eyes snapped to hers, holding her gaze with equal tenacity.
“So busy that you’ve put you and your soulmate in the precarious position of being unable to transport without risking your lives?”
“No... it’s Kaevin’s injury... the soulmate bond...”
“The injury is grievous, to be certain.” He went back to his sewing. “But are you confident your weakness didn’t begin before he was wounded?”
“No... I mean, yes... I don’t know...”
“I’ve got a few granola bars in my backpack,” Uncle Charles offered. “If I just knew where it was. Markaeus stowed it away some place safe. Where is that boy, anyway? I sent him to fetch my backpack, but he should’ve returned by now.”
“Done!” Laethan declared. Turning to Jireo with a hopeful expression, he asked, “How fares the defender bond? Is our situation any less dire?”
Jireo gritted his teeth. “I would’ve told you our chances were good—the pressure has been lessening steadily as you and Doc proceeded. But less than a finger ago, something changed, and his life is now in more peril than ever.”
Laethan frowned, searching Kaevin’s torso. “I don’t see any other bleeding, but perhaps blood is escaping inside. Where is Markaeus? With his gift, we could be certain.”
The door opened and smoke wafted into the healing house, bringing tears to Alora’s eyes.
“Is Laethan finished?” asked Arista. “We’ve come back to fetch Kaevin.”
“I’ve done all I can do, for the moment,” said Laethan. “But I hope I’ll be allowed to accompany him to Montana. For I have knowledge of matters foreign to the other realm, though crucial to Kaevin’s survival.”
“Of course you can come,” Alora said, belatedly noticing her uncle shaking his head.
“We might need to keep Laethan hidden,” Uncle Charles added. “You see, we’ve got this nosy reporter snooping around.”
“I excel at avoiding notice,” Laethan declared, his lips twitching into an almost-smile.
But Jireo was in no joking mood. “With each breath, I sense Kaevin’s time is shortening. I do not know if his chances will improve in Montana, but we have no hope if we remain here.”
Weak as she was, Alora’s empathy filter failed completely, leaving her to experience every emotion in the room, including Jireo’s despair.
Moving quickly, Wesley and Brian took one side of Kaevin, while Jireo and Laethan lifted on the other. The four gently ferried him out of the healing house with Alora shuffling after them, vainly attempting to hide her wobbly gait from Laethan’s sharp gaze.
Arista helped the men enter the portal with Kaevin, but Uncle Charles lagged behind.
The rising smoke obscured the full moon and would have been suffocating if there hadn’t been a breeze clearing the hilltop. Of course, the wind only fanned the flames of the fire throughout the valley.
Uncle Charles stopped Alora outside the portal entrance. “I need to stay here and find Markaeus. You go with Kaevin.”
Alora sensed Uncle Charles was extremely anxious about something. It made her own heart start racing.
“Is Markaeus hiding again? I can transport him here, unless he has some kind of iron belt on.”
“No!” Uncle Charles’ fingers tightened on her arm until she winced. His eyes were wide, and she shared his panic, almost hyperventilating. “You’re... you’re too weak, Alora. Just go on with Kaevin. He needs you. I’m sure Markaeus’ll be right back.”
“You’re looking for Markaeus?” Arista leaned her whole upper body out of the portal and pointed. “I saw him earlier, running down that road toward the river.”
Though the moon was bright, Alora could barely make out the bridge as clouds of smoke wafted past. Her eyes stung, and all she could think about was getting Mark
aeus back so she could go home and go to sleep. Strangely, she wasn’t even worried about the probability of dying.
At least this time, if I die, it won’t hurt. Death without torture doesn’t sound bad at all. And I could get some rest, too. And something to eat.
“Let me transport Markaeus here, Uncle Charles. If I pass out, you can carry me.”
“You can’t, Alora.” He buried his head in his hands and groaned. “You can’t transport him. Because, if he’s got my backpack, there’s a loaded pistol in it.”
“A gun?” She was alert now. Her heart was beating ninety miles an hour. “Uncle Charles! Why would you bring a gun here?”
“I didn’t mean to do it, Alora. We left in such a hurry. I grabbed my backpack out of the truck and threw a bunch of stuff inside. I forgot there was a gun in the inside pocket. As soon as I realized, I got Markaeus to hide it with that gressor gift of his, so it would be safe. I just pulled out my knives and stuck them in my pockets.”
“Does he know about the gun? Do you think he might try to use it?”
“I told him I had some dangerous stuff in there that I didn’t want him touching, but I didn’t mention the gun. I mentioned the pepper spray—he used that when we were escaping from Vindrake’s cavern.”
“Oh. My. Gosh.” Alora put her hands on her hips. “You better not say anything about Aunt Lena’s lamp after this.”
He scrunched his eyelids closed, radiating so much regret she felt sorry for him and her anger faded.
“What will we do now?” Arista asked from behind them.
Turning around, Alora saw Arista leaning her face out of the entrance with one hand on either side, so she appeared as a pair of floating hands holding a head in mid-air, with a long blond braid swinging from it.
Alora busted into a fit of giggles. “Arista, how can you be silly at a time like this?”
She laughed, tossing her messy braid over her shoulder. “I suggest I help the two of you up here, and you can wait inside the portal entrance, while I return and tell the others what’s happened.”