Alora: The Portal (18 page)

Steven looked up, narrowing his eyes as he studied Graely. “Why did she wait so long to escape? Did you say she returned to Laegenshire a year after she was captured?”

“We have to assume Wendelle didn’t discover the portal until after she was pregnant. With Vindrake’s killing ward on her, she couldn’t travel through the portal while pregnant without sacrificing the baby’s life, along with her own.”

“What’s a killing ward?”

“I can’t explain it well. Even Nordamen can’t explain the ward, except to say its victim will die if he moves beyond the warded borders.”

“Who’s Nordamen?”

“Nordamen is our chief shaman,” Graely answered.

“Shaman? So he does voodoo and stuff like that?” Steven’s voice was full of derision.

Beside her, Alora heard Wesley groan. She turned to see him drop his head into his hands.

“Steven, stop with the rude questions,” said Brian through clenched teeth. Karen, standing behind Brian’s chair with her hand on his shoulder, seemed to be keeping her husband from jumping up to throttle Steven.

“What?” Steven blinked, apparently clueless. “I was just curious.”

Only a small twitch of his left eye indicated Graely’s irritation. “A shaman has knowledge of all the gifts and trains the clansmen. And he can manipulate the elements through his gift.”

“If Nordamen knows all about the gifts and the elements, can’t he figure out a way to get rid of this bond between Vindrake and Daegreth?” Leaning forward with an eager expression, Steven set his iPad aside.

All eyes in the room turned to Daegreth, who’d insisted on being bound hand and foot to a chair across the room. His face turned a bright shade of red.

Graely’s steely gaze softened. “No, I’m sorry, but Nordamen has no understanding of the bloodbond. We have no knowledge of the source of Vindrake’s dark magick. Certainly it didn’t come from his father; he was a man of honor, though we disagreed on many points.”

A tight band squeezed Alora’s head, and the voices faded into the background for a moment. Simultaneously, Kaevin’s grip tightened on her fingers, and she knew he shared the sensation. She took a deep breath and pushed the pain away.

“How are we going to handle the trip to Yellowstone this time of year? We’ll have to trek to Imperial Geyser on cross-country skis, right?” Brian asked.

Uncle Charles answered Brian, still avoiding eye contact with Graely. “We can’t get close to the Imperial Geyser by car for several more months, but according to Graely and Nordamen, we can’t afford to wait.”

Alora felt the crackling tension between Graely and her uncle.

“So you can’t let Alora transport you there and skip over all the snow?” Steven asked the question, but answered himself. “I guess she doesn’t remember what it looks like, since she was a baby when she was there before.”

“That’s correct,” Graely affirmed. “Also, Charles insists on taking some gear along in case of… complications. Some of that gear can’t be transported.”

Kaevin’s grip intensified as Alora’s headache swelled, demanding her total attention, and she lost the thread of the conversation. Squeezing her eyes shut, she longed to fall into blessed sleep.

“Alora? Kaevin? What’s wrong?” Graely’s voice brought her back.

She pried one eye open. “It’s nothing,”

“Are you guys having headaches again?” Wesley cocked his head, squinting at them as if he could somehow see the cause of their pain.

Karen was stooping in front of Alora in an instant, pressing the back of her hand to Alora’s forehead, and then to Kaevin’s. “You don’t seem to have fevers. But I have just the thing for a headache. I’ll be right back.” As Karen disappeared into the kitchen, Alora squirmed in her chair, more uncomfortable with the concentrated attention than the pain in her head.

“Headaches?” Graely’s eyebrows knit together. “Is the soulmate bond no longer sated by holding hands or kissing? Why did you not mention this before?”

“We thought we understood the cause of the pain.” Kaevin spoke between strained lips. “Last time, the pain vanished when we returned to Laegenshire.”

“Go ahead and kiss if you need to.” Uncle Charles’ nose wrinkled as if a skunk was in the room.

“Kissing doesn’t seem to help, Uncle Charles, but thank you.” Alora was quick to express her gratitude, still reeling from his sudden shift in attitude toward her and Kaevin over the past week. Not only had he turned a blind eye to their handholding, but he also seemed to encourage the occasional kiss. And he’d even arranged the homeschooling at Beth’s house without complaining about the cost. She’d gladly agreed to his demand for extra chores as penalty for her insolent actions and speech, happy to be relieved of her guilt.

“It doesn’t feel as if it will take our lives,” Kaevin said. “Right, Alora? It’s simply pain, not weakness.” Kaevin was holding both her hands now.

He must be picking up on how distressed I am with everyone focusing on us, so he’s trying to downplay the pain.
Alora tried to send grateful vibes his way.

“That’s right. It’s no big deal, really. Just a little headache.” She forced a smile on her face and made her eyes open wide.

“No, this isn’t normal,” Graely said. “At least I believe it’s not normal; we know so little about the soulmate bond.” Graely paced the room, oddly mimicking Morvaen’s usual action in his absence.

“Here you go.” Karen returned, handing two cold glasses to Kaevin and Alora. “It’s lemon-rosemary infused water. Great for headaches.”

Alora sniffed the pungent liquid before taking a small sip of the slightly bitter water. To her amazement, the pain in her head lessened immediately. “Thanks, Mrs. Franks… I mean, Karen. I think it’s helping already.”

When Kaevin murmured his agreement, Karen lifted her chin with an exultant smile. “You see, Brian. I told you my infused water really works. You should drink the raspberry-lemongrass-dill water I made you.”

Wesley groaned. “Now she’ll want all of us to drink that nasty stuff.”

Somehow sensing Kaevin’s thoughts were centered on his best friend, Alora reached out to touch Graely’s arm, speaking in a low tone. “When we take you back to Laegenshire, can we return with Jireo, since he’s going on the portal trip?”

“Yes, Father.” Kaevin took up her plea with an eager expression. “Since Jireo’s purpose on the trip is communicating with Darielle after Alora, Arista, and I go out the portal, he could utilize this time for practice.”

“Oh, I get it. Jireo and Darielle are going to be like cell phones,” Wesley remarked.

“So, Jireo and Darielle are telepaths?” Steven’s lips spread in a broad grin. Alora pictured him in a white lab coat tapping his finger thoughtfully on his tooth while watching a miniature Jireo and Darielle run through a rat’s maze.

“We intended to leave Jireo in Laegenshire until you begin your journey to the portal with Charles.” Graely cast a wary glance at Arista, who’d abandoned Alora’s cell phone to marvel at the mounted elk head keeping watch over the Frank’s family room. “Bringing Jireo to Montana now would give Charles yet another young person to supervise.”

“Jireo could help keep an eye on his sister.” Kaevin spoke through the corner of his mouth, not moving his lips, while Arista reached up to stroke the elk’s fur.

A fleeting smile twitched Graely’s mouth. “Perhaps that might be helpful.”

Though the headache was barely noticeable, Alora was still anxious to be on the way back to Laegenshire. For some reason, she felt an urgent need to fetch Jireo. She was about to verbalize her thoughts, when Kaevin spoke up.

“Father, if your discussion is complete, we could return to Laegenshire now.”

“Wait! I need everyone’s attention. I want to announce our great news.” Steven rose from his seat. “We got the results of the DNA tests.”

Wesley and his parents froze, eyes open wide. Clearing his throat, Steven smirked, obviously milking the moment for all it was worth. He paused, looking in turn from his brother to his parents.

“Spit it out, Steven.” Wesley looked as if he might tackle his brother to the floor.

“We proposed Daegreth might be a genetic match as a brother to Wesley and me, and the DNA says… he’s not.”

Brian’s face fell. “So he’s not related? He just happens to look like you?”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t related. He and I are a fifty percent match and fifty percent of his markers came from Mom and Dad. But he has fewer markers in common with Wesley.” Steven grinned like the Cheshire cat.

“Steven, tell us right now.” Karen was starting to get that wild look in her eyes.

Steven rolled his lips in, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “Okay, Mom. Here it is. Daegreth is… my
son
.”

“What?” Brian was on his feet. “What are you talking about?”

“But Vindrake killed my father,” Daegreth protested, his wide eyes blinking rapidly.

Steven lifted his shoulders and dropped them, his grin unfazed. “I can’t explain it, but the science doesn’t lie. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have believed a parallel world could exist. I wouldn’t have believed Alora could move people around like in
Star Trek
, either. Hey, Daegreth—do I look like your father?”

Daegreth’s mouth opened and closed a few times as if he were trying to make sense of Steven’s words. “I cannot say. He had more years than you, and he wore a full beard. But people commented we looked similar. Does this mean my mother is here in this realm? Will you someday marry her?”

Steven tapped his fingers on his chin. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem likely. I can’t even tell you your father and I had identical DNA. Just take it for what it is. Genetically, we’re family.”

Alora caught a glisten in Daegreth’s eyes before he tucked his chin down, and she could almost swear she sensed him choking back his emotions. In fact the whole room felt so thick with emotion, she was practically swimming in it.

Odd. I wonder if this is part of my discernment?

“I have no wish to depend on
this decrepit old man to locate the portal for me.” Vindrake glared at Malphas. Not for the first time, he considered replacing his chief shaman. Always, it seemed, he fulfilled his duties with minimal effort. Vindrake could hardly believe the small aged man quaking at Malphas’ side was the only citizen of Water Clan with the gift of gresses.

“But Ferrister here has an able body despite his years and he bears your bondmark. An extensive search revealed no other with the gift, save this man’s grandson, Markaeus, with whom you’re already acquainted. Surely you prefer the help of someone you could control, rather than that of a child of nine years.”

“Perhaps I’d prefer to take the gift and use it myself.”

“I beg your pardon, Sire, but are you absolutely certain you don’t possess the gift already? Daevidea, from whom you… ahem…
procured
the gift of water-source, also had the gift of gresses. Perhaps her other gift transferred to you, as well.”

Like the gift of bearer and shaman, gresses might not pass to him from its owner through the oath of Maladorn. Yet he couldn’t know for certain.

“In the past, the presence of a new gift has made itself known to me, but perhaps I might not notice such a minor gift.” Vindrake willed the old man to meet his eyes, noting little resistance in his cowering persona. A wendt created from this man wouldn’t be worth the energy expended.

“Ferrister? Is that your name?”

His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Instead, he nodded with vigor.

“Ferrister, if I have the gift of gresses, you will teach me to use it. So how can I know if I possess the gift?”

“Uhmm… uhmm…”

“Look. There’s a lock on my trunk. How would I open it without using my key?”

Ferrister moved to examine the lock. “Y-you w-would… uhmm…”

The aged man was obviously inept. Perhaps he no longer remembered how to use his gift. Not bothering to hide his disdain, Vindrake prodded the timid man. “Is this lock too difficult for you? I don’t see how you could find and open a portal if you can’t—”

Vindrake stared at the trunk, astounded. The open lock dangled from the hasp. “How did you do that?”

“I… I…” Ferrister backed away, tripping over his own feet and falling against a table, which upended, sending a pottery washbasin crashing to the floor.

Without a thought, Vindrake stretched out his hand in anger. Ferrister writhed on the floor, clutching his throat as Vindrake squeezed off his supply of air.

“Sire! Wait, Sire! You need him! You need him to find the portal and open it for you.”

Vindrake dropped his hand, observing dispassionately as Ferrister gasped aloud, gulping in precious air. Vindrake flipped his hand, brushing both of them out of his abode. “Call me when he’s located the portal.”

Malphas dragged Ferrister to his feet, and they scurried out the door like rats.

Weak people. He was surrounded by weak people. All were paralyzed with fear. So few had ever shown more than paltry resistance when directly threatened by his power. So few. He could count them on one hand. Wendelle. Kaevin. Alora. The Stone Clan girl with the wild blond hair. And of course… his brother.

Dark circles underscored Alleraen’s eyes. He slumped against a wall, his features eerie in the dim light filtering through the high slotted window. “Drakeon, I no longer wish to call you my brother.”

“Alleraen, I told you, Father’s death wasn’t my fault. Barristae fought with him and killed him with Father’s own blade. I only avenged his death when I killed Barristae.”

“And why would I believe you? Anyone who opposes you is chained in this dungeon, only to be released upon swearing fealty to you in some strange blood ritual. I assure you, I’ll never do it, so you may as well kill me now. When you do, I promise my spirit will remain behind and haunt your every waking moment. And your dreams as well.”

Vindrake felt a shiver ripple down his spine. “There’s no such thing as haunting spirits. You don’t believe such a thing. We both know our spirits go either to eternal salvation or damnation when we die.”

“No, Drakeon. You’ve lost your conscience. So God has told me my spirit will never leave your side. I’ll always be there to remind you of His condemnation.”

“Be silent! I don’t wish to hear your lies!” But Vindrake’s new gift of judging told him his brother’s words held no deception. Could it be true? Had God truly abandoned him to such a fate?

Perhaps Alleraen was deluded. Yes, that must be it. He was distraught over their father’s death, and he’d imagined this conversation with God.

“You know I speak the truth. I’m not afraid of you, Drakeon. I should be angry but, right now, all I feel toward you is pity. You’ve turned your back on everything Father taught us. Unless you stop this madness, you’ll die a lonely, friendless man.”

“Ha! I won’t be lonely or friendless, for certain. Already, I have more than fifty who’ve sworn to be faithful to me. You are alone here in this dungeon since the others have chosen to follow me. More join the ranks each day. Unite with me, Alleraen. Together, we can lead Water Clan to be the greatest clan in history.”

“Together? You would share your power with me? You would give up the place you claimed as leader of Water Clan?”

Vindrake choked. “I can’t give up my place as leader. It is my destiny. And with my new-found gifts and the knowledge contained in the Maladorn scroll—”

“That scroll! This all started because of that scroll! It’s changed you, Drakeon. Can you not see? It’s evil, and it’s making you evil as well.”

“The scroll is nothing but recorded knowledge. Knowledge is knowledge… it cannot be evil or good. As long as I use the knowledge of the scroll with good intent, it isn’t evil. That’s precisely what I’m doing. I’m using the scroll and my new gifts to better serve Water Clan.”

“No, Drakeon. You’re blind to the truth. You aren’t using the scroll. The scroll is using you.”

Vindrake felt blood pounding in his ears. “Speak no more!” He turned his back to Alleraen, intent on escaping his accusing words.

“Wait, Vindrake! It’s not too late. Come away with me. Let’s venture across the sea… as we dreamed when we were children. Leave Water Clan. Father is gone, and I have no heart to stay here.”

Vindrake’s feet froze to the ground as a lump formed in his throat. He turned slowly, blinking his watery eyes. The idea was enticing. He could forget everything that had happened. “Just you and I?”

“Yes, you and I. We’ll go far away and start anew.” Alleraen dragged himself to his feet, his expression earnest.

“Do you really believe we could do that?”

“I do.”

His words were truth. Vindrake’s resolve wavered.

“We should throw the scroll in the ocean.” Alleraen paced, his chains rattling on the stone floor. “Or burn it. Thus we’ll be certain it doesn’t fall into another’s hands.”

“No!” Vindrake screamed the word, panic welling in his chest. “The scroll is mine. I won’t destroy it. I’ll protect it with my life.”

With a cry of despair, Alleraen leaned against the wall, his legs crumpling until he reached the floor. He sat still, unseeing as a wooden statue.

“Alleraen, don’t you understand?”

“Go away. Or kill me now.” He turned until his condemning gaze locked with Vindrake’s. “I don’t even recognize you. My brother is gone. Forever.”

“He’s located the portal opening, already?” Vindrake hadn’t realized it would happen so fast. He wasn’t prepared to begin an incursion to the other realm.

“Yes, Sire. He found the portal in the bathing pool between your chamber and the one where Wendelle was once kept under guard.”

“Of course!” Vindrake recalled the circumstances surrounding Wendelle’s imprisonment. Her secure chamber was close to his, separated only by the cavernous bathing pool. “She frequented the pool and was occasionally allowed to bathe unaccompanied since there was no unguarded exit and the caverns were warded to prevent transport.”

Hmmm. I might have executed an undeserving guard sixteen years ago when her escape was discovered. No matter.

“I thought perhaps you might wish me to go through the portal and scout the realm at the other end for you.” Malphas’ beady eyes squinted as he wrung his hands together.
He seems much too eager. Will he move beyond the control of my bloodbond once he passes through the portal? Can he be trusted?

“No, I shall see it with my own eyes. Where is Ferrister? I wish to leave immediately. When I return, I’ll make an assault plan.” Vindrake almost missed the sneering twitch of Malphas’ upper lip.
Perhaps I should consider moving another shaman into the chief position.

“I told Ferrister to wait at the portal entrance.” Malphas’ cackle raked across Vindrake’s nerves. “He may have drowned by now.”

With a glance to assure himself the precious scroll was locked inside the chest, Vindrake slipped through his rear doorway, hefting with his shoulder to close the weighty wooden door behind him. Emerging into the bathing chamber, the flickering torches illuminated the face of the diminutive Ferrister, bobbing in the water near the rear of the pool.

“Thank… goodness…” He sputtered, splashing his hands. “I don’t believe I can stay afloat much longer.”

“Why are you treading water out there?” Vindrake growled.

“Malphas… told me to wait… right here.” He coughed a mouthful of water.

“Don’t be ridiculous! What good are you to me if you drown before you show me the portal entrance?” Without a thought Vindrake stripped off his boots and tunic, holding them over his head to keep them dry as he waded across the pool. But two steps into the water, he heard a gasp from the side. He whipped his head around to catch Malphas stumbling backward, gawking at Vindrake’s chest.

A quick downward glance revealed the source of Malphas’ obvious terror; the six-horned image etched on his chest was glowing. That the creature glowed was no cause for alarm, since it was a common occurrence. But the glow was blue—a color corresponding to a dangerously low level of energy.

How did I not notice my weakness before?
The decision was simple. Not only would absorbing a life source replenish his stores efficiently, but Malphas’ death would also eliminate the possibility of him sharing his observation of the inkless tattoo. The fact Malphas had become irritating of late was merely an added bonus.

After Steven’s announcement, the group buzzed with excited discussion. Alora noticed Arista edging to the door. Not that Arista was in any danger if she went outside, but Alora knew she wasn’t dressed for the biting cold of a Montana winter.

“Hey, Arista, you don’t want to go out there until I lend you a coat. I have boots, too, but they’re probably too big. We may need to buy some things for you.”

“I need to… I’ve got to go outside. But I don’t know where to go.” Arista’s face glowed pink.

“Oh! You need a bathroom.”

“No, I’ve no need to bathe. I simply need to relieve myself.”

Alora laughed, grabbing her arm and leading her down the hall. “You’re gonna love this. It may be the best invention we have in Montana, especially when it’s ten degrees outside.”

Her slight headache almost forgotten in the wake of Arista’s surprise and delight at the demonstrated wonders of modern plumbing, Alora returned to join Kaevin. She knew, without asking, his pain had also dissipated.
It seems like we’re getting more and more in sync. I can almost feel his emotions. Is it the soulmate bond or does that happen to all couples when they spend a lot of time together?

“Daegreth doesn’t appear very enthusiastic about Steven’s announcement.” Kaevin’s remark drew her attention to Daegreth, who sat, stiff and tight-lipped, still strapped to the chair.

“You’re right. He looks perfectly miserable. Maybe he’s just shy. Or maybe he needs to use the bathroom. I just sent Arista in there; you should have seen her. I think she flushed the toilet ten times.”

“I could ask him if needs to go.” Kaevin gave her his cute lopsided grin, highlighted with dimples.

“I guess they have some safe way of taking him without untying him altogether.”

Kaevin answered with an emphatic shrug.

Alora sought out Wesley’s mom, pulling her to the side, away from the jovial conversation about possible grandma and grandpa names.

“Karen, I think maybe Daegreth needs to go to the restroom. I mean, I don’t know, but he definitely looks uncomfortable. I figured you guys had some safe system worked out.”

Karen screwed her mouth to the side. “Brian usually just cuts him loose and guards him with his gun and then ties him back up. I think it’s ridiculous. Daegreth would never hurt us, and I can’t believe Brian would actually be able to shoot him anyway. I think he just holds the gun to make Daegreth feel better about it.”

“Well, if Vindrake’s bond were working, Daegreth really would be dangerous. I don’t think you understand how powerful my father is.”

Alora followed Karen into the kitchen. Rummaging through a drawer, Karen snatched out a pair of scissors and waved them in front of Alora.