Alora

by Tamie Dearen

  Doc trotted down to the portal entrance, accepting Mera’s hand to step inside the portal. Holding her hand between his, he spoke with a gentle voice. “Meravelle... I need to tell you—”

  “My grandfather passed. Yes, I know.” Rapid blinks chased her tears away.

  Doc patted her hand. “He said you’d know. But before he died, he gave me a message for you—he said you’d understand.”

  She swiped at her face with her sleeve, leaving a sooty smear. “What did he say?”

  “His words were this, ‘One could live a lonely life in the company of a thousand ancients.’”

  **************

  The day passed in a blur of pain and unconsciousness as Alora lay on the stony ground with her hands and feet still bound, her shoulders wrenched to the point of agony. When she was awake, she found it ironic to hear cheery birds singing in the nearby trees. Vindrake’s evil felt so overwhelming to Alora she thought it should sicken the entire forest.

  Alora suspected her father secretly feared her, so intent was he on keeping her weak. Her food bowl disappeared, and her water bowl had a few spoonfuls at a time, barely enough to get her tongue wet. The blessing of her empty stomach was in not having anything to vomit when Vindrake came near.

  He spent most of the day sitting on the ground beside her, taunting her with promises of a painful death. But when she grew too weak to retort, he lost interest.

  Later he offered to spare her life and that of her soulmate, if only she would serve him. He even suggested he wouldn’t force Kaevin to take the oath of fealty and accept the bloodbond. She’d only have to promise to follow his commands without question.

  It occurred to Alora that Kaevin would find his offer hilarious, and she heard his voice saying, “As if Alora could ever follow anyone’s commands without question.”

  Her ensuing chuckles irritated her father, whose face turned red, with veins standing out on his temples. This expression made her think of her Aunt Lena saying, “You have a bee in your bonnet,” which caused her to laugh even harder. The painful rasp of her laughter through her dry throat was nothing compared to Vindrake’s blistering slap, busting open her crusty, swollen lip.

  I guess he doesn’t like people laughing at him when he’s trying to be serious. But if he doesn’t want me to laugh, he should probably feed me something so my brain starts working again.

  After that, she tried hard to restrain her illogical mirth. But holding in her emotions, even the ones that made no sense whatsoever, put a strain on her bulging empathy balloon. That was how she’d come to picture the container deep in her head that housed all her pain and emotions, including that which she’d erroneously stored up. Laethan had described it as a “well” but Alora thought that sounded deep and strong. Hers felt much more fragile, stretched to capacity and ready to break open. Perhaps something like an overstuffed trash bag with sharp objects inside.

  At any rate, she was quite certain, as weak as she felt, she wouldn’t survive another pain-emotion spill. And had Kaevin’s life not depended on hers, she would’ve allowed it to happen. Though it would be painful, at least her death would come on her own terms and not via her father’s promised torture.

  If I don’t eat something soon, I’m going to die anyway. Though she barely had strength to breath, she reached out to Kaevin with her mind.

  Pain. Terror. Relief. Longing. Sadness. Pain.

  Knowing her soulmate was conscious brought her new courage. Careful to shield her pain and fear, she shared only her love with Kaevin. By his loving response, she knew he’d received her emotional message. She drank it in, warming her cold heart long after she should’ve stopped.

  **************

  When water splashed in her face, Alora realized she’d passed out. The sun was dropping behind the distant mountain, and she shivered in the chilly air. Or maybe she was shaking because she was weak. No matter the reason, no one was offering anything for her comfort.

  The setting sun shined through the wispy blond hair of the man standing over her, creating a glowing orange halo.

  “Are you an angel?” she mumbled.

  The angel grimaced, revealing a rotten tooth right in the front. Her vision blurred, and she squinted to bring him back into focus. The black tooth was still there.

  “You really ought to see a dentist, you know. Don’t you have insurance?”

  He set a bowl on the ground beside her. “Eat this. Master Vindrake doesn’t want you to die. Not yet.”

  Every muscle and joint protested when she tried to move, and the pain cleared some of the fog from her mind.

  “I don’t suppose you could help me get up on my knees.”

  “I’m not allowed to touch you, because you might transport me somewhere.”

  “I...” She started to tell him it didn’t matter whether he touched her or not. That she couldn’t transport him if he had on an iron belt, which she was certain he did. But she changed her mind, deciding it was better if this goon—who was certainly no angel—was afraid to touch her.

  “I thank you for the... uhh...” What’s in that bowl? It looks like someone dug it out of the disposal. I liked it better last night when I ate in the dark. “I thank you for the food. Could I also have some water to drink? I assume you don’t want my father to be angry with you that I died of dehydration.”

  Glancing at the empty bowl he held in his other hand, he grunted. “I’ll fetch you some more. I wouldn’t have had to throw it on you if you’d woke up when I yelled.” He stomped away, muttering something quite un-angel-like.

  Drawing her legs up, she made several attempts to roll onto her knees before she finally succeeded. Scooting closer to the bowl of chunky matter, her stomach growled.

  “You wouldn’t be so interested in this food if you could actually see it,” she told her grumbling belly. “It looks like somebody scooped up some of the dirt and leaves I’ve been lying on and threw grease on it.” She gave her dinner bowl a sniff. “Yep. Smells like compost soup.”

  Ignoring the slimy texture, she wolfed the food down, guessing it might be chunks of dried bread in cold meat juice. What kind of meat, she refused to consider.

  By the time the guard returned with the water, she felt considerably better and decided to perform an experiment with her reluctant servant.

  Attempting a quick transport, she found, as expected, the guard had protection of some sort—probably an iron belt. However, iron couldn’t protect him from her empathy. Laethan had warned her against manipulating emotions, but something told her he wouldn’t object under these circumstances.

  As the guard approached, she sent a wave of anxiety toward him, gradually increasing the intensity until she emoted something akin to fear. With trembling hands, the guard dropped the bowl on the ground, spilling at least half the water before he jumped away from her. His wide eyes bulged like he expected a rattlesnake to leap out of the bushes.

  Switching gears, she dropped the fear and sent giddy feelings into his head. He tittered with nervous laughter, but he was still afraid. With great effort, she managed to calm him down. Confused, he backed away, stumbling over his own feet.

  Her head throbbed in payment for her efforts. Still, she’d gained knowledge that might prove helpful. I think I’ll save what’s left of my energy for something important.

  She knew it was possible her friends would mount some kind of rescue attempt, but they wouldn’t take that risk if Kaevin wasn’t going to survive his injuries.

  I just hope they don’t give that evil scroll back to my father.

  ~19~

  Alora’s mystery meal only had about thirty minutes to digest before Vindrake returned, Uncle Charles’ ever-present backpack still secured under his elbow. Though the sun had set, his smug expression was clearly visible in the bright moonlight. He seated himself nearby, using a large, flat rock as his chair, and ate his dinner. Her food reappeared immediately, looking much the same as before she ate it. She took small satisfaction when his lip curled
in disgust.

  “Sorry to disturb your supper.” She smirked, despite her rolling nausea.

  “Not to worry, Daughter. I’m willing to sacrifice so you won’t be alone the last night of your short life.”

  “Just so you know... I consider Uncle Charles to be my real father. All you did was donate the genetic material.”

  His lips drew back, baring his stained teeth. “I created you, and you were stolen from me.”

  “You created me? Ha! You think raping my mother makes you equal to God?”

  “I’m not equal to God, but I’m chosen by Him, and as such, deserve your reverence.”

  His fist flew out, and she dodged it. But then a painful grasp on the back of her head forced her face into the stony ground. Unrelenting, the pressure continued, as she struggled against him with no success. The sharp rocks sliced into her tender skin, and her nose throbbed almost as much as her head.

  “Sire?” A man’s tentative voice intruded. “Do you wish to drink your wine now, or shall I come back later?”

  “Later, you imbecile!” Vindrake’s irritation translated to heavier pressure on Alora’s head. “Can you not see I’m occupied?”

  “Yes, Sire. I beg your pardon, Sire.”

  Alora had a desperate idea. Focusing on the guard, she sent a blaze of fury and held it in place.

  “Nooooo!!!!” The guard screamed in uncontrolled rage. “I’ll not come back! Here! Here is your wine!”

  She felt something wet splash onto her arm and neck. The force on her head disappeared, and the guard’s voice became a strangled gargling. Lifting her face from the dirt, Alora spied the guard, his hands clutching his throat while his face turned as red as a fire hydrant. Beside her, Vindrake’s clenched fist stretched toward the unfortunate man.

  As he folded to the ground, Alora’s stomach clenched in a series of dry heaves.

  I killed him. I killed that guard as surely as if I’d put a gun to his head. I’m a murderer.

  She hadn’t meant for him to die, but her lack of intent didn’t reduce her self-condemnation. She felt as awful as the first time she’d killed a warrior by transporting him into a cliff wall, and that time had been in self-defense. The guilt swirled in her head, adding to her throbbing headache, but she dared not suppress her emotions for fear it would all come spilling out.

  I wish I could talk to Laethan.

  Vindrake, on the other hand, seemed in an extraordinarily good mood, smiling and perky, even as he wiped the wine from his face with his sleeve. And he apparently forgot all about his anger with Alora.

  Rubbing his hands together briskly, he stood up, walking with a spring in his step. “Alora, I’m feeling particularly generous at the moment... so generous I might consider sparing your life when I have my scroll once again.”

  “You’re going to let me go?”

  “No, no. You misunderstand. I can’t allow you to go free, of course. I’m simply saying I might not hasten your death, but allow your soulmate bond to take your life instead.” His lips curled in a smile that made him look just like the Grinch who stole Christmas. “Or you could agree to serve me, instead. Perhaps my offer will be more appealing when you feel your body sickening, knowing your resistance will cause Kaevin to die.”

  Alora wanted to throw out a snarky comeback, but she really didn’t feel like enduring any more pain. Between her blurry vision, aching joints, and throbbing head, she didn’t even feel like breathing any more. Swallowing her pride, she kept her mouth shut.

  When she didn’t respond, he spread his hands in an I’ve-done-all-I-can-do gesture. “The choice is yours, Alora. But consider this... if you refuse my offer, knowing the results to come, it’s no different than murdering Kaevin and taking your own life. And you’ll have to answer to God for that decision.”

  She ignored him... or at least she tried to. But a niggling doubt wormed its way inside her brain, adding to her guilt and pain.

  “I suppose you’re beginning to feel the effects of separation from your soulmate, now.”

  Kaevin. I know he’s still alive, but I haven’t felt him since this morning. Do I have enough energy left?

  Opening her empathy, she reached out to him. She was bombarded with fear and desperation. Her head swirled, and the world turned black.

  **************

  Meravelle could hear her blood pulsing in her ears so loud it muffled the sound of her footsteps. The Maladorn Scroll was tucked safely inside the strange mottled-green sack from the other realm. She’d been warned about the scroll’s unusual lure and resisted the urge to take it out and inspect the writing.

  With scant sleep since the onset of Vindrake’s attack, she was tired to the depth of her bones. Yet her racing heart made her alert.

  She hated to put the ancient writing back in Vindrake’s hands, even for a moment. But in light of the fact he had the power to kill even more of Glaenshire’s citizens and now knew to avoid fighting on the foundation of the Craedenza, they had little choice. She hoped their plan would work, and he wouldn’t stay to inflict more damage on their village. Hopefully, the presence of the Stone Clan warriors and his need to protect his precious scroll would encourage him to return to Water Clan and leave them be. She prayed they could also rescue Alora and retrieve this dangerous other-world weapon that had accidentally fallen into his clutches.

  Though she hadn’t lied when she told him no man or woman could step foot on the Craedenza foundation except for the oath-bound, she’d neglected to mention a child could come and go from the Craedenza without hindrance, a fact which had only been discovered at Markaeus’ reckless behavior.

  Thus Markaeus had no difficulty retrieving the scroll, before a full day had passed without violence. As the secrets of the Craedenza’s powerful defense weren’t common knowledge, Vindrake would not likely suspect the deceit.

  Alleraen had pushed to use the darkness as cover, requiring Mera to arrive before the appointed time. But if fortune held, Vindrake would be so pleased to retrieve the scroll, he wouldn’t question her timing in bringing the scroll before dawn. Perhaps he would take the scroll and release Alora as he promised.

  If not... her rescuers waited inside the portal Markaeus had created during her visit with Vindrake the prior morning. Surely they were prepared for whatever might transpire.

  Surely...

  ~20~

  Despite having her energy drained, Alora slept fitfully, each waking moment so pain-filled, she wished herself back to sleep. She was quite certain her arms would never work again, after being harshly restrained behind her back for such an extended time. Her depleted soulmate bond caused a stabbing pain in her head that increased with each passing hour, probably made worse because she was already so weak. Knowing Kaevin was experiencing the same pain made her both sad and determined to fight.

  As promised, her father slept beside her in the forest clearing, close enough to keep her stomach churning. While the moon was still high in the sky, she heard the excited voices of Vindrake’s guards.

  “Sire! The woman has returned. She claims to have the scroll you seek.”

  Two guards pushed Meravelle into the clearing, as Vindrake leapt to his feet, shoving his hand into the brown backpack and retrieving Uncle Charles’ handgun.

  Recovering her balance, Mera circled until Vindrake stood squarely between Alora and her, blocking Alora’s view. Alora rolled and rocked, scrambling to her knees.

  “You have the scroll?” Vindrake’s voice trembled with excitement.

  “I have it. But first, give Alora to me.”

  “I’ve changed my mind about releasing Alora,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “I need her to guarantee Glaenshire will not attack me.”

  “Glaenshire won’t attack you. You’re a judge, and you know I do not lie.”

  “Nonetheless, you’re in no position to bargain, standing alone before me without a weapon. Give. Me. The. Scroll. Now.”

  “Will you at least allow me to return to Glaenshire unharmed?”


  “Fine, fine. Yes, yes, yes. Just give me the scroll and go.”

  Alora inched over on her knees until she could see the archivist. “Please, Meravelle. Don’t give it to him.”

  Mera’s eyes were sad when she stretched out her hand, offering Markaeus’ camouflaged backpack to Vindrake. “I’m sorry, Alora, but I must protect our citizens. It’s the only way.”

  Alora hoped the backpack might contain a fake. But when Vindrake took it in his hands, the proximity sent a noxious wave to overwhelm her volatile gut.

  It’s the real thing.

  Sliding the gun back inside Uncle Charles’ bag before tucking it under his elbow, Vindrake wasted no time opening Markaeus’ backpack. Shouting a triumphant “At last!” he withdrew the scroll, holding it with a look akin to rapture.

  A frown etched his forehead as he glanced to the place Mera had been standing. “Where is the woman? I might yet have need of her.”

  “She’s gone, Master Vindrake.”

  “She can’t have gone far. Find her and bring her back to me.”

  “Yes, Master Vindrake.” The two scampered off.

  As Alora slumped onto her side on the uneven ground, she prayed Mera would somehow evade the guards. Meanwhile, she tried to tamp down a rising panic. Though she knew better, she’d been hoping beyond hope that Vindrake would somehow relent and keep his promise to release her in exchange for the scroll. Now, with the scroll in his possession again, he had no reason not to torture and kill her.

  A few feet away, her father sat down on the large rock and unrolled the scroll with laborious care, squinting at the parchment in the moonlight. He set Uncle Charles’ bag beside his foot along with Markaeus’ empty pack. With one hand spreading the scroll open on his knees, he lifted the other hand, and a light appeared, shining from his palm like a hidden flashlight. His lips moved as his fingers traced from side to side across the parchment.

  But his glowing hand, raised in the air, sent a series of remembered images through her mind... of a glowing hot iron lowering to her skin. Her heart raced, and her throat constricted. Her painful emotions bubbled, bulging against her hold.