Alora: The Portal (13 page)

“This is wonderful news.” Graely clapped his hands. “Daegreth couldn’t possibly have been under Vindrake’s control at the time. The man would be dead now.”

“But his arms were bound,” Kaevin objected.

Graely put a hand on Kaevin’s shoulder. “You know as well as I that a trained warrior could easily kill a weaponless man without the use of his hands. And he wouldn’t have obeyed another man’s order if the bloodbond had been in effect.”

“We can’t be certain.” Kaevin persisted. “Perhaps because of his injury he was too weak to kill the man. I still don’t trust him.”

“Does this mean I can take him back to Montana with me?” Brian asked.

“Why not simply question him here?” Kaevin suggested. “You can discover everything you need with Chaleah’s aid.”

“Let me add this thought, Graely,” Chaleah interrupted. “I believe his bond of fealty will prevent him from answering most of our questions, unless we are clever in our wording. But if Vindrake’s control is truly absent in the other realm, he could be immensely helpful. Of course, unless I’m present, we still wouldn’t be certain of his truthfulness.”

“But if the bloodbond doesn’t work in Montana, he won’t lie,” Alora reasoned.

“Even those who aren’t controlled by someone evil will often speak falsehoods,” said Graely. “That’s why a judge is an essential part of our council.”

“I wish our judges had that skill,” said Brian. “We’d always know who was guilty and who was innocent.”

“Maybe not,” Alora said. “Even guilty people can plead the fifth.”

“True, but maybe we’d have a different justice system if our judges were like Chaleah.” Brian screwed his lips sideways. “What if your judge is lying? No offense, Chaleah. It just occurred to me everything depends on your judgment
and
your truthfulness. Who judges the judge?

“My gift doesn’t allow me to speak untruth.” Chaleah’s expression remained impassive.

“Really? That’s so great,” Alora said.

“It does make relationships more difficult,” said Chaleah. “I often attempt to withhold my opinions if they would be hurtful, but then I am judged by my silence. It is difficult not to offend people on a regular basis.”

“Ah… so sometimes you have to speak
around
the truth.” Brian laughed. “We have people like that in America—they’re called attorneys. They go to a special school to learn that skill.”

Alora chuckled with him, more amused by the confusion on their friends’ faces. She thought to explain the joke, but decided against the attempt. “Seriously, Chaleah, I can see how your gift might not make you very popular, because you’d also know if somebody embellished a story or paid you a false compliment.”

“Yes, but I work well with young children because they tend to speak truth and expect it in return.”

“So back to the subject at hand, what are we going to do with him?” Alora nodded toward the door.

Graely’s face split into a broad smile. “Brian, we’ll take him to Montana and question him with Chaleah present. It’s possible you may get your wish after all. Daegreth may be a great gift in our battle against Vindrake.”

“I knew I was right about him.” Alora reached to the side to take Kaevin’s hand. But where he’d been standing, her hand grasped empty air.

“Now tell me, Markaeus…
Are you certain no one from Laegenshire realized you came from Water Clan?” Vindrake tried to keep his tone light, hoping to encourage the boy to share his story.

“You promised if I did what you asked, you’d let me and my brother and grandfather go.” Markaeus’ accusing eyes narrowed, and Vindrake noticed the color was something between blue and green. His blond hair was shaggy and unkempt, matching his attire.

“Indeed I did, and I’m a man of my word.” Not for the first time, Vindrake rejoiced his stolen gift of judging didn’t carry the burden of truthfulness thrust upon those born with the gift. Markaeus’ brother had almost twelve years and would soon be forced to take the oath of fealty. And the boys’ grandfather, feeble though he was, had already received the bloodbond. But the promise of his family’s freedom had proven to be great incentive for the talented boy who’d already demonstrated a number of minor gifts, including horsemanship, though he had but nine years. Vindrake was irked he was forced to cajole Markaeus into cooperation rather than force him, but the bloodbond would not work on a child having fewer than twelve years.

“Laegenshire was a nice place. My family might prefer to live there.” Markaeus crossed his arms, and his lower lip protruded. Vindrake couldn’t help admiring the boy’s spirit, despite being irritated with his recalcitrant nature. When his major talent developed, he would be a prize Water Clansman. After the bloodbond was applied, of course.

“You can live anywhere you like if your information proves useful to me.” Like a silken sash, the lie slid from Vindrake’s lips. “But you will find Water Clan a much more hospitable place to reside. Even now my men are preparing a home where you may live and have all your needs provided.”

Markaeus’ brows furrowed as if he might withhold his report.

“And if I’m truly pleased, I may give you a horse.”

“A horse? What color? A mare or a stallion?” The boy danced at the news.

“No, no… first you must tell me what you’ve learned.” He pasted what he hoped was a pleasant smile on his face as the boy spilled forth his story, now eager to comply.

“Well… I was there for a while, and the iron forger let me work with him and gave me a place to stay. I said I ran away from Water Clan warriors, just like you told me. He didn’t ask many questions.”

“That’s fine, but what did you learn?”

“I listened carefully, but no one mentioned Kaevin or Alora around me.”

“So you don’t know if he’s alive or dead?” Vindrake controlled his frustration with great effort.

“I didn’t say that. I only said no one spoke of them. But the day before I left, I saw him. I saw Kaevin, and he talked to me.”

“You saw Kaevin BarGraely? Are you certain? Perhaps it only looked like him.”

“I was fetching water for the forger when I met him. He was tromping through the square and didn’t see me. My water spilled when he ran into me, and he helped me fill another bucket. I know it was Kaevin because he told me his name.”

“He
lives
.” Vindrake fumed, balling his hands into fists.
How did he survive? How did the blade fail to end his life?

“May I see my brother now? I did everything you asked of me.”

“Not at the moment. Your grandfather awaits you. Be gone.” Vindrake gave an impatient wave toward the door.

“What about my horse?”

“Not
now
!” In his frustration, Vindrake almost struck the impertinent boy. But Markaeus must have sensed the danger, for he scrambled out the door without another word.

“Judaene!” Vindrake called for his personal guard, a swarthy young warrior with bulging muscles befitting his gift of strength. He rather preferred his previous guard, Daegreth, who’d been lost in the battle against Laegenshire. But Judaene performed his duties with relish, though he lacked Daegreth’s soothing mannerisms.

Fortunately, Vindrake never allowed himself to become emotionally attached to his guards or anyone else, for that matter. He’d learned many years ago sentimentality was a weakness to be avoided at all costs. Personal affection only offered opportunity for pain. No one could be trusted… especially family. His own father and brother had proven beyond doubt that familial love and loyalty were as much a myth as the city of Serenshire.

Vindrake stood unobserved in the doorway, watching his younger brother at sword practice against an imaginary opponent. He couldn’t help but admire his grace as he deftly maneuvered the blade, slicing through the air in elegant arcs. He’d grown taller in the year since Vindrake had left their home in Portshire. Taller and broader in the shoulders. With his beard filling out, he looked more like their father than ever before. His long auburn curls bounced with every vigorous dancing step. Vindrake had been told his own slick black hair had come from their mother, though he didn’t remember her.

“Drakeon!” Vindrake’s brother cried, as the heavy practice sword slipped from his hands, clunking to the floor. Arriving in four long strides, his brother fell against him, and Vindrake found himself engulfed in a fierce embrace. “You’re alive! I can’t believe you’re alive! Father scoured all of Water Clan looking for you. It’s been twelve moons. He told me yesterday he was going to give up the search. Where have you been?”

“Alleraen, I’ve missed you.” Vindrake clung to him, desperate to abate the cold emptiness that had been growing in his chest during his flight through Stone Clan. In the fortnight since his fatal encounter with the Faelen, an aching pain had developed inside his ribs, like a shard of ice beside his heart. He felt certain it was guilt over his actions. Indeed his remorse was so great, he’d been tempted on multiple occasions to climb a tree and leap to his death. He’d fought against the urge, convinced his father’s approval would offset the horrible shame and self-reproach. His father would never know the means by which he’d gained his newfound strength. And as long as Vindrake used his ill-gotten gift for the good of Water Clan, Faelen’s death would be a noble sacrifice, rather than an act of evil.

“But where did you go? And why did you stay away so long?” Alleraen pushed back, gripping Vindrake’s arms. “You’ve changed. What’s different?”

“I have the gift of strength now. That’s the change you sense. I’ve been studying the writings in the Craedenza…”

“You let Father worry for twelve moons so you could study some stupid scrolls? Are you senseless? Father will be furious when he finds out.”

“Did you hear what I said? I have the gift of strength. Now I’ll be ready when my time comes to be Water Clan leader.”

“But you didn’t need to be gifted in strength. I already have that gift, and I’m going to be your weapons master someday.”

“Be still, Alleraen! We both know you’d never be satisfied as weapons master. It was only a matter of time before you challenged me as leader.”

“That’s not true!” Alleraen’s mouth hung open. “I would never do such a thing. God chose you as Water Clan leader when you were born. Who am I to question His decision?”

“You’ve always thought you were better than me.” Vindrake felt his anger growing, warming the icy place in his chest. His rage felt good. It felt justified. “And Father loved you more, because you were gifted in strength and weapons.”

“Surely you don’t believe that, Drakeon. The fact that we spent time together because we shared the gift of strength didn’t make Father love me more than you. The whole time we practiced he told me I was preparing to be your weapons master when you were clan leader someday.”

“He does love you more.” Vindrake’s anger deflated and the frozen ache returned. “You didn’t see his expression when he realized my major gift was language rather than strength or weapons. He was so disappointed.” He turned his face away to hide the tears welling in his eyes.

“You were born to be clan leader, and you were given the gifts you needed to perform your task.” Alleraen spoke the words as if he believed them.

“Exactly! I was given a strong gift of language so I could do what no man has ever done before—interpret the Maladorn scroll. God knew I would be the one who learned how to obtain another major gift after coming of age.”

“I suppose you could be correct.” Alleraen screwed his lips to the side. “Will you gain more gifts? Will you have all the major gifts some day?”

“No!” Vindrake realized he’d shouted the word when his brother flinched. “I have strength now, and I need no other gifts. Father will be impressed—you’ll see.”

“Perhaps. Still, you disobeyed him and allowed him to worry for twelve moons. He could be more angry than impressed. I’d gladly help you concoct a tale to pacify him, but he keeps Barristae by his side all the time now.”

“Barristae? Why does Father keep the clan judge with him?” Vindrake knew he couldn’t tell his previously planned story in Barristae’s presence.

“Father believes someone stole you away by force, and he’s convinced some citizen of Portshire was complicit. He keeps Barristae with him, thinking they will stumble upon the culprit together.”

“I never liked Barristae.” Vindrake’s mind spun, attempting to fabricate an account with enough truth to pass undetected by the judge. “But I mustn’t put off meeting with Father. I wouldn’t want him to learn of my return from someone else.”

Vindrake felt Alleraen’s hand on his arm. “Listen, Vindrake…”

Vindrake eyed his brother with suspicion. Although his father favored ‘Vindrake’ over his given name, Alleraen had always insisted on using the formal name. He only called him Vindrake when he wanted a favor.

“… I think this new gift has caused some other change in you. Something about you simply doesn’t feel right. Let me help you get rid of the gift—surely there’s a way to do it.”

“I knew you’d be jealous when you learned I’d surpassed you.” Vindrake stripped off his filthy traveling shirt. “You can help by letting me borrow a clean shirt before I go speak with Father.”

“I’m not jealous, Drakeon. I’m truly trying to help.” Alleraen rummaged through his trunk. “Here’s a shirt I can lend you, assuming it fits.” He held the shirt out, but froze in place, his mouth dropping open. “What’s that on your chest? When did you get a tattoo? Father will be furious when he sees it.”

Vindrake gave a casual glance downward toward his chest, recoiling at the image that greeted him. Struggling to maintain his composure, he wondered exactly when and how the hideous monster, the size of two hands, had appeared on his skin. Only with fierce control did he resist the intense urge to scratch the image off. Vindrake was certain his brother could hear his heart beating, so loud was the clatter it made inside his ribcage.

“I got a tattoo in Glaenshire.” His lying skills, though dismal in the past, seemed to be improving dramatically. “All the scholars at the Craedenza wear tattoos.”

Alleraen moved closer, bending to study the image. “But Drakeon, what a dreadful tattoo. It has six horns and ghastly eyes. It looks quite evil. I must admit, the detail is amazing, but why would you choose such an awful creature?”

“Never mind, Alleraen.” Vindrake snatched the shirt from his brother’s fingers and slipped it over his head, fastening the ties tightly to protect his chest from accidental exposure.

“Father, you’re squeezing so hard I can’t breathe,” Vindrake jested, returning the embrace with heartfelt fervor.

“You can’t understand because you aren’t a father yet. But the thought of losing your son is the worst possible feeling. I didn’t lose hope until the last fortnight. All this time I could still sense your lifeblood. But when I couldn’t feel…” Vinnasae’s voice faltered, and his hold tightened. “I thought you were dead, Vindrake; I couldn’t bear it.”

“I’m so sorry, Father. I didn’t want you to worry, but I had an undertaking. Do you understand? I had to go. I had to look for the answers I sought. And I was successful, Father. I did what no man has done in centuries. I interpreted the scroll of Maladorn and deciphered the path to increasing my gifting.”

Vindrake felt his father stiffen in his arms. “You disobeyed me? You traveled to the Craedenza to study some archaic writings? Risking your life for no good reason?”

“There was no harm done, Father. And now I have the gift of strength. Let me show you what I can do.”

“You are the next Water Clan leader. Your life is not your own to risk as you see fit. Your life belongs to Water Clan.”

Vindrake fought to subdue his anger. “I only did what was best for Water Clan. Our people deserve a leader with adequate gifts to fulfill the role. With my gift of strength—”

“You had adequate gifts. You had the gifts God granted you when He chose you by birth as leader of Water Clan. Are you implying God made a mistake when He bestowed your gifts?”

“No, I’m saying He gave me the gift of language knowing I could use this gift to obtain more gifts. I tried to tell you before, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“It is you who would not listen. I already forbade you from pursuing this foolish course of action, and you ignored my command. What am I to do now? Is Water Clan to have a leader who does not believe in authority?”

“What are you saying, Father?”

“I believe, Drakeon, your father is stating the obvious.” Barristae, heretofore silent, stepped between them, sporting a greasy smile that stretched from ear to ear. “By flaunting the command of the current Water Clan leader, you have forsaken your future succession.”