by Tamie Dearen
Reaching for Kaevin with her mind, she felt no pain whatsoever. Her chest tightened as she reasoned he must be close to death.
Maybe Kaevin was right when he tried to stay with me every single second of the day. At least we wouldn’t be dying apart.
“Be certain she has no weapon before you bring her to me,” said Vindrake, who stood several feet away with his back to Alora. In the morning light, she could see her prison was located in a small clearing in the forest. Though no guards were in sight, she knew her father must have them posted all around for protection. He would leave nothing to chance.
After a few moments, during which Vindrake paced in a small circle, a Water Clan warrior arrived, roughly pushing someone ahead of him—a petite woman with a mass of dark, tight curls framing gray eyes.
Meravelle.
“I’ve come to discuss the terms of Alora’s release,” said Meravelle. Her voice didn’t quiver in the least, nor did her hands, despite the very frank fear Alora sensed.
“I’ve already expressed the terms, yet I see you’ve come empty-handed. Where is my scroll?”
“Yes, we understand the terms; however, we’ve since discovered that the boy left the Maladorn Scroll inside the Craedenza.”
“Excellent! You’ve located my scroll, so you should have no trouble bringing it to me before the sun sets this day.”
“We have a slight problem, one that will result in a delay. For by law, since the Craedenza is under threat, no man or woman can step foot on the Craedenza foundation unless they are oath-bound. And no person under oath to the Craedenza can remove a scroll from the premises.”
“Then someone will simply have to break that law.” Vindrake’s eyes flashed with impatience. “Bring the scroll to me, or not only will I kill Alora, I will also turn the people of Glaenshire into wendts—one citizen at a time, beginning with the children.”
As if to make his threat more believable, he reached into the pocket of his cloak and withdrew Uncle Charles’ gun. Alora was so exhausted she didn’t even flinch when he aimed the gun her general direction. Mera’s expression remained nonplussed, but Alora felt her terror spike.
Uncle Charles must have explained about the gun, or she wouldn’t even know to fear it.
“One cannot break this law any more than one could decide to flap one’s arms and fly, for it is enforced by the power of the Craedenza.” Crossing her arms she glared up at him, like a Chihuahua squaring off against a German Shepherd.
“You are denying me my scroll?”
“All of us are anxious for you to take the Maladorn Scroll and be on your way. But blood was spilt on the very foundation of the Craedenza, awakening its ancient magick. There must be one full day—from sunrise to sunrise—with no violence against Glaenshire, so the Craedenza will sleep again. Then any citizen of Tenavae can enter the Craedenza. When the magick rests, you could retrieve the scroll yourself, if you so desired.”
“So this magick, by which my warriors perished at the Craedenza, is not a ward from some shaman?”
Meravelle shook her head. “It is no simple shaman magick. You’ve witnessed the power of the Craedenza—you understand it cannot be overcome.”
His fingers clenched into tight fists. “No! This is a trick... a ploy! Stone Clan seeks to delay me so they can prepare a counterattack.”
“Stone Clan will not attack. You are a judge, so you know I speak the truth.”
“I know only that you believe your own words. I know not if Morvaen has shared his true plan with you.”
Vindrake strode to Alora’s side and bent to grip her arm, wrenching her painfully to her feet, though her legs wouldn’t support her weight. Cold metal jammed against her neck, as her stomach heaved yet again.
“Tell Graely and Morvaen that I will not leave Alora alone for even a breath. And tell them I know how to use this other-world weapon, and I won’t hesitate to kill Alora. Graely knows he would lose his son as well.”
“I’ll give them your message.” Grim-faced, Mera turned to go.
“You will deliver my scroll when the sun rises,” Vindrake shouted. “Come alone.”
Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t turn back to face him. “I’ll give them your message.”
~18~
It had been too long since he’d slept, and Doc was at the end of his very short rope.
“Get out of my way, Laethan. We’re wasting time.”
Though he’d come to respect the Tenavae doctor for both his skill and his knowledge, the man was extremely stubborn and arrogant. “Do you think I’m a coward?” Doc demanded.
“No, I don’t. However, I didn’t believe you were senseless, either. Yet here you are, ready to throw your life away,” Laethan replied, in a too-loud voice that attracted Janice’s attention.
Great! Now he’s got my wife involved. Just what I need.
Janice froze in the middle of her task of tidying up the room, marching to join them with her hands on her hips and a what-do-you-think-you’re-doing frown on her face.
“What’s going on, A.J.? You’re throwing your life away? Our life? The one that just started a few months ago? I mean, I hate to sound like Karen, but I’m not fond of my husband dying.”
“Listen, I won’t die. But even if I did, you and Beth would be taken care of. I’ve got good life insurance.”
“You can ensure life in this realm? How is this done? Can one become immortal?” Laethan looked ready to buy a policy.
“No. We buy a policy that provides money to the people we leave behind when we die.”
From the look on Laethan’s face, his explanation was a total flop.
“I don’t want your insurance money, A.J.” Janice waved a pointed finger in Doc’s face. “I’ve spent enough time alone, and I’ve no desire to do it again.”
Stepping forward, he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her. “I love you, Janice. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made this decision without talking to you. But there are good people dying because they can’t get medical care.”
“Why can’t Laethan take care of them?”
Her glare made him squirm like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I can and would go,” Laethan said. “However your mate doesn’t believe I’m as capable a healer.”
“That’s a big, fat lie, and you know it,” Doc declared. “Janice, the reason Laethan can’t go is because there’s some kind of funky magic that if he steps foot on that foundation rock right now, he’ll never be able to leave that town as long as he lives.”
“The Craedenza magick is powerful,” Laethan said. “It can hold you in Glaenshire as easily as me. And you have a mate, whereas I have none. I should be the one to go.”
“I really don’t think the magic will work on me. It seems like we Montana people are immune to the magic in Tenavae. Charles. Wesley. Brian...” He ticked the names off on his fingers. “They’ve all talked about how those magic powers didn’t have any effect on them, whatsoever.”
“Still, it’s too great a risk,” Laethan protested. “I’ll not be missed if I must stay in Glaenshire.”
“That’s clearly not true. You know things about Alora’s... issues... that I could never understand. She needs you.”
Muttering something in angry tones, Laethan looked to Janice, obviously hoping she would take his side.
Janice crossed her arms as she gazed at Doc. “You really don’t think you’ll be affected by this spell and get trapped over there?”
“No, I don’t. But... it could be a beautiful place to retire.” Doc winked to reassure her.
Her eyes rolled about. She was used to his teasing—in fact, she liked it. One of many reasons he’d fallen in love with her.
“Fine. Go. But you be home by ten o’clock. I’m not sleeping alone.”
Doc grinned. “Yes, ma’am!”
**************
Alleraen refused to remain lying down on the healing house bed, satisfied to have his bleeding s
ide wrapped with clean cloth. “My injury is naught but a scratch.”
The man working in the healing house threw up his hands. “Then be on your way. A hundred others await my attention. As if my attention had any value. I don’t know how I let Mera convince me to help, when I have no training.”
Alleraen clapped the tired fellow on the shoulder, hoping to provide encouragement to make up for his lack of cooperation. “You’re doing fine work. With your bandage, my injury feels like new.”
He didn’t lie, for the sword hadn’t penetrated anything vital, merely slicing the skin and some muscle.
The man shook his head, but his chin lifted. “Thank you for that, though I suspect you’re only being kind.”
Moving quietly, Alleraen slid close to the huddled group in the corner of the healing house. Thalaena was conferring with what remained of the Glaenshire leaders, and Alleraen was determined to listen.
The fires were under control—mostly burnt out—leaving a path of destruction behind. The border river had contained the fire on the Isle of Glaenshire, but few homes had escaped damage. On the other hand, the stone and clay walls, of which the majority of homes were constructed, had withstood the flames. So when the smoke cleared, the roofless village still stood, resisting Vindrake as stubbornly as had the Craedenza oath-bound, and with similar results.
Soon, the funeral pyres would add new smoke to the air, but the time for mourning had not yet come. Those oath-bound who still breathed remained on the Craedenza foundation, bound to protect the archives until a full day passed without violence.
At least the injured archivists were no longer languishing without treatment. The Montana healer known as Doc had come through the portal, armed with healing tools from the other realm. Shaking off those attempting to restrain him, he’d marched his way up to the white stone foundation. To the surprise of all who watched, he attended to the wounded, freely coming and going from the Craedenza, with no evident bond.
The healer’s tireless work, however, hadn’t prevented the deaths of many archivists, leaving Glaenshire with a dearth of leaders in the midst of a crisis.
Pretending to straighten the bedding nearby, Alleraen strained to hear their conversation.
“We believe the Montana healer is unaffected by the Craedenza magick because he comes from the other realm,” Thalaena explained to the small, smoke-smudged group of Glaenshire citizens, of which Meravelle was a part.
“Bastaeno is our true leader,” said a thin-lipped woman as she rubbed her eyes. “I, for one, have no experience making decisions such as this. And I need to see after my children. We should ask Bastaeno what to do.”
Meravelle answered, her voice strained. “I fear we won’t have that opportunity again, Estaella. For Doc tells me my grandfather has lost much blood. He doesn’t expect he will survive until the morrow.”
“I’m so sorry, Mera.” Estaella reached over to hold her hand. “He has given much to Glaenshire.”
“Then you would be the next in line to become head archivist, Meravelle,” said a man with brown thinning hair, as Estaella nodded eager agreement. “No one will argue with your recommendations.”
“I don’t even have thirty years,” Meravelle argued. “I’m not ready to be head archivist. Amanias, did you not tell me last seven-day you were ready to take the oath?”
The thick-necked man with an unkempt beard stood abruptly, raising his hands as his eyes darted from one person to another. “I can’t. I’m a man of peace. I never thought an archivist would be called upon to fight in a battle.”
With his back to the group, Alleraen fumed silently. How could this sniveling man not find the courage to defend his people in the face of adversity? Meravelle had no warrior gifts, yet she’d walked straight into Vindrake’s camp to confront him. Alleraen considered knocking some sense into the cowardly man’s head with the butt of his sword, but Thalaena handled the situation with aplomb.
Rising to her feet to block his way as he attempted to back out of the circle of chairs, Thalaena said, “No one is asking you to make this decision now, Amanias. We simply need guidance concerning our actions with Vindrake. At the moment, Meravelle has agreed to his terms concerning the scroll in exchange for Alora’s release. But we have no guarantee he won’t attack Glaenshire again after he acquires the scroll he seeks.”
Alleraen couldn’t hold his tongue. Whirling around, he stomped his way to the small circle. “You can’t possibly believe Vindrake will abide by his promise to release Alora. He’s a vile snake whose word is as worthless as a boat with no bottom.”
“Alleraen, this is not your concern,” Thalaena stood to face him, glaring almost eye to eye.
“Brightness! It is my concern. Alora’s my niece. Drakeon’s my brother.”
“You came here under my command—”
“And I fought this battle and obeyed your command. But that battle is over now. This concerns my family.”
“I command the Stone Clan troops who are protecting Glaenshire and the Craedenza. I’m also charged with the protection of my clan leader, and currently that man is Kaevin BarGraely. Further, I must protect Alora in order to protect Kaevin. So all of these lives are my responsibility.”
“Then do what you must, and I will do what I must.”
“You cannot confront Vindrake of your own accord, Alleraen. I forbid it.”
“Were we in battle, I would obey you, Thalaena, for you’ve earned my respect as weapons master. But the battle is over, and I’m not yet a Stone Clan citizen.”
“Nor will you ever be if you disobey my command.”
The stare-down continued, with both breathing as heavily as when they’d carried bucket after bucket of water to douse the fires throughout the night. In fact, Alleraen was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, even in his current state of rage.
He jumped at a tap on his elbow and looked down at a pair of gray eyes wide with excitement.
“Did I hear you say you are Alora’s uncle?” Meravelle asked. “And Vindrake’s brother, as well?”
“I am.” He faced Mera, glad to be free of Thalaena’s icy glare. “Though I’m proud to claim the first and ashamed to admit the second.”
Meravelle whipped around to address the other three. “If none of you wishes to aid in making decisions, your help is no longer required.”
“Thank you, Mera.” Estaella gave her a hug before shuffling away, obviously exhausted. The other two exited without even making eye contact.
When the three were alone, Mera sank back into a chair, motioning for the others to do the same.
“Thalaena, we have a plan in place. We hope to rescue Alora and defeat Vindrake. But if we fail, I give you the authority to do whatever is needed to defend Glaenshire and the Craedenza.”
“And the scroll?” Thalaena asked. “Do you intend to return it to Vindrake?”
“Unless we’re able to kill him during Alora’s rescue, we must return the scroll. For Vindrake will not stop until he has it in his possession.”
“The Maladorn Scroll is to blame for all this evil. Had my brother never laid eyes upon that scroll, we wouldn’t be here, fighting this battle. How I hate for the scroll to fall again into his grasp!” Alleraen dropped his face into his hands.
Mera sighed, the heavy breath revealing both her fatigue and her dread. “I agree, but we have no choice. Vindrake has threatened not only Alora, but every citizen of Glaenshire, no matter how innocent.”
“I’ll gladly help you.” Alleraen watched Thalaena’s reaction from the corner of his eye. “That is, I’ll help you if my weapons master will grant permission for me to break from my duties as a Stone Clan warrior.”
Thalaena got that furious look he’d only seen her make once before, when someone had put bitters in her water cup. Truth be told, it was Alleraen who’d done it, but no one knew.
She mumbled something that would probably have melted the wax in his ears if he’d understood it.
“We have until dawn tomo
rrow.” Meravelle closed her eyes and looked almost like she’d fallen asleep where she sat.
“Mera?” Thalaena must have wondered the same thing.
“I’m sorry.” When she opened her eyes, they were glistening with tears. “I believe my grandfather has passed to the next life. But I’ll say goodbye to him tomorrow.”
She pushed to her feet, her body drooping like a withered plant. “Your name is Alleraen?”
“That’s correct.”
“Have you been to the other realm?”
“I have.”
“Good. For I haven’t the leisure to explain it. Especially since it makes no sense to me.”
He followed her out of the healing house, with Thalaena trailing behind looking miffed. Alleraen painted a serious expression on his face and bowed his head toward Thalaena.
“I hope you’ll forgive my previous outburst.”
“You’ve much to learn about discipline, Alleraen.” She placed her hands on her narrow hips, an action which emphasized the muscles in her shoulders. “The expedition to Serenshire may be cancelled. But if it does proceed, I may be forced to reconsider allowing you to participate.”
Something told him it wouldn’t be wise to argue that Alora could invite him on the trip as her uncle. Instead, he pressed his lips together and nodded.
Mera called out, surprisingly loud for such a small body. “Doc! Are you staying here or coming back with me?”
From atop the foundation, Doc arose from a kneeling position and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Wait, Mera! I’m coming! I need more supplies!”
Meravelle reached forward, pulled her hand back and stepped up into the air. Only when she offered her hand to Alleraen did he realize what she was doing.
“It’s a portal? Are you a gressor?”
“Yes, I am.” Though her hand was small, her grip was firm. “Until yesterday, I’d never encountered another with that gift. Now I’ve met two. And contrary to all I’ve gleaned from the archives, I’ve now seen a gressor who can create a new portal, a deed I believed could only be attributed to God.”