Alora: The Portal (23 page)

“Silence!” Vindrake stretched out his hand, squeezing his brother’s airway. Alleraen stood still as a carved statue, his dispassionate gaze locked with Vindrake’s as the blood vessels bulged on the side of his face. His hands were clenched in fists at his side, in an obvious effort not to clutch at his throat.

“You know nothing of Father!” Vindrake shouted. “Everything I’ve done has been for him. Everything! Water Clan has reached a pinnacle of greatness because of me.”

Vindrake dropped his hand, and Alleraen gasped for air. With a frustrated scream, he dropped to his knees, pounding his head on the floor. “Drakeon! Why won’t you simply kill me?” He looked up with tears tracking his face. “If you ever loved me, Vindrake… please, kill me now.”

Vindrake turned his back, ignoring his brother’s pleas. With lengthy strides, he escaped Alleraen’s pursuing entreaties.
I can never let you die, Brother. Not when you have promised to haunt me.

“I’ll never be able to show
sufficient gratitude for your aid.” Raelene rested her hand on Bastaeno’s arm. “Without a gifting in language, I’d never have understood the writings here.”

“You’re quite welcome. I feel certain we’ve covered all the writings concerning soulmates. It seems to be a topic of interest as of late.”

“Have others come seeking knowledge of soulmates, recently?”

“Yes, another man came asking about soulmates, but he only studied here for a few days. Your research has been much more thorough.”

“From where did he hale?”

“We would need to ask my granddaughter, Meravelle. I was unwell at the time, so she assisted him with his studies.”

“Your granddaughter is also gifted in language?”

His lips widened in a proud smile. “Mera is gifted in language
and
wisdom.”

“Would she be willing to speak to me about this other man who came to learn of soulmates? It could be extremely important.”

“I’ll be happy to introduce you to Meravelle… if we can drag her away from her manuscripts.”

Alora’s eyes grew twice their normal size, and she slapped her hand over her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Kaevin’s heart beat an erratic pattern against his ribcage.

Her nostrils flared as she hid a laugh with her hand. “I just remembered something, but it’s too late to do anything about it now.”

Kaevin glanced around the tightly packed vehicle Alora had named
Suburban
. Charles manned the wheel and pedals controlling the magick wagon. Kaevin knew it wasn’t really magick, but it was difficult to understand it any other way. Beside Charles sat Jireo, wonder on his face as he stared out the window while Suburban sped down the smooth road Charles called a
highway
. The road wasn’t elevated in any way Kaevin could see, so he was uncertain of the term’s origin.

Charles had music blaring in the front of the vehicle—Alora called it
country
music. Whatever kind of music it was, it was loud enough they had to speak up to hear one another in the rear seats.

Alora sat in the rear seat between Kaevin and Arista, who kept a running discourse on every contrast she’d discovered between Tenavae and Montana, an activity that resulted in a lot of talking and no peace-and-quiet. In the back of his mind he heard her melodic voice tinkling on about “lights without fires.”

Behind them, the compartment was filled with supplies for the trek including rucksacks, warm clothing, food, and a variety of weapons. The rear of the wagon was stuffed to the brim, save one section of the rearmost seat, where Wesley sat wearing a very smug expression, having secured a spot on the expedition by taking his father’s place. Still recovering from his injury, Brian wasn’t fit to help carry the gear to the portal entrance.

Secured to the wagon’s roof were five pairs of long snow-gliders, termed
skis.
Kaevin had practiced with the strange planks on his feet and had been tempted once again to proclaim them magick, for they slid forward easily but refused to slide in a backward direction. Wesley had attempted an explanation—something about wax combined with the raised pattern on the bottom of the skis—but Kaevin found it easier to accept than understand.

All agreed that the return of Daegreth’s bloodbond probably heralded Vindrake’s first forage into this realm. They planned accordingly, assuming Vindrake knew the location of the portal entrance and might very well have it guarded. But Nordamen’s adroit observation that they wouldn’t have been forewarned without his temporary metamorphosis didn’t seem to comfort Daegreth’s tortured soul. He’d become even more silent and withdrawn than before, brightening only when Beth came to visit. According to Wesley, Beth’s almost-daily, animated read-aloud sessions had actually induced occasional laughter from the otherwise grim Water Clan warrior.

“What is it? What did you remember?” Kaevin whispered in Alora’s ear, though he needn’t bother to speak in a low voice with Arista’s ongoing monologue.

“The wendt.”

“What wendt?”

“The one I sent to our root cellar, remember?”

“During the battle? Do you believe it still lives?”

“I have no idea. If it survived the transport, it probably starved to death. Unless it could open jars and survive on old canned zucchini and carrots.”

Kaevin recalled his transport from Alora’s family room to the kitchen. “I don’t expect the wendt lived through the move. Should you tell Charles?”

Alora’s gaze darted toward her uncle, driving with a somber expression. “I think I’ll wait until he’s in a better mood.”

“Hey.” Wesley tapped Alora on the shoulder. “Steven told me last night he’d had an epiphany.”

“Is that a serious injury?” asked Kaevin. “Did he go to your healing house?”

“No, Kaevin. An epiphany is…” Alora’s words trailed off as she caught Kaevin’s gaze. He grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

“Kaevin!” She whacked him playfully on his arm. “Don’t tease me like that. What was his epiphany, Wesley?”

“He thought of a metal that might transport. He says you might be able to move bronze—it doesn’t have any iron in it. He searched the Internet and found some sources for bronze knives and bronze arrowheads.”

A metal that would transport?
Kaevin's mind raced with the possibilities.

Alora twisted her mouth. “Surely the people in Tenavae would know if you could transport bronze. Raelene would know.”

“What is ‘bronze’?” asked Kaevin.

“Don’t tease me again, Kaevin.”

“No, seriously… I’ve never heard the word before.”

“Didn’t the Bronze Age come before the Iron Age?” Wesley asked.

“Maybe not in Tenavae.” Alora tapped her fingernail on her front tooth. “We’ll have to check it out when we get back…
if
we get back.”

Sensing her fear, Kaevin gave her hand a firm squeeze, and she returned a half-hearted smile.

“Did you hear me?” Arista’s insistent voice broke in. “I was explaining what I learned of portals. The inside of a portal transforms according to your expectations. So you must leave your fears and worries behind.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Alora asked. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Nordamen’s been inside a portal before. The passage was so tiny, they could barely wriggle through. One out of their group panicked and fainted. They dragged him back outside and left him behind, and when they re-entered, the passage was wide enough to walk three abreast.

“Not knowing the distance inside the portal, the leader was worried darkness would fall before they could reach the other end of the portal. They had no way of knowing how long they marched, but Nordamen said it felt as if they walked all day. Upon reaching the end, the portal opened onto a sea with no land in sight just as the sun was setting. They abandoned the exploration quest and returned through the portal. But after only a few breaths they’d already reached the portal opening in Tenavae.”

“Okay, that’s just bi-
zar
-ro.” Wesley leaned forward to talk over the seatback. “How could it be longer going out than coming back?”

“
Really
?” Alora’s tone dripped sarcasm. “You think that’s the bizarre part of a portal between two different realms?”

“Oh… you have a point,” Wesley conceded, settling back in his seat. “I guess the existence of two realms is old-hat to me now, just like transporting. I have to say your way is lot better than
Star Trek
. I wouldn’t relish having my molecules disassembled and reassembled.”

Once again Alora and Wesley shared some private joke, only understandable to Montana natives. Attempting to conceal his irritation, Kaevin whispered, “What’s ‘
Star Trek
’ and ‘molecules’?”

She pursed her lips to one side. “I can’t even begin to explain it. It’s one of those shows we watch on TV, but it’s science fiction.”

“I don’t like science.”

“No, not like science at school. It’s… uhmm…. Wesley, how do I explain sci-fi to Kaevin?”

Wesley squinted as he scratched his short scruffy beard. “Sci-fi is about crazy, impossible stuff that might happen at some point in the future with scientific advances, but it’s not real. It seems like magic, but the people doing the stuff have a scientific understanding of what they’re doing.”

“Ah… I understand. It’s like electricity or this vehicle.”

“No, this is real, not science fiction,” Wesley responded.

“It’s science fiction to me.” Kaevin turned away, the matter settled in his mind.

The snow-covered landscape of Yellowstone prevented easy access to most of the park sites, including Imperial Geyser, where Wendelle had appeared with Alora sixteen years prior. The hired snowcoach took them part way, and Uncle Charles had secured a backcountry permit, albeit not one that allowed legal camping anywhere near Imperial Geyser.

Hoisting a backpack with a somewhat-fair-share of supplies, Alora set out on the fifteen-mile cross-country ski journey with the enthusiasm of ignorance, laughing and chatting with Arista. By the end of the first mile, she could already feel the burn in her quads and the ache in her shoulders. By the tenth mile, Kaevin, who could not only see her grimace but also feel her pain, insisted on removing some weight from her pack, dividing it between the three guys. She would’ve protested more if he hadn’t done the same for Arista. Kaevin was hurting as well by the time they reached Uncle Charles’ targeted camping spot, a secluded clearing removed enough to provide privacy if other park-goers braved the snow to see Imperial Geyser in the winter.

Every muscle in Alora’s body screamed in protest as Kaevin eased the heavy backpack from her shoulders. Folks weren’t kidding when they said cross-country skiing gave a great cardiovascular and all-around workout. She’d have no trouble sleeping tonight, even on the hard ground in the freezing cold.

Alora was so tired she could barely stay awake to chew her cheese and jerky. Arista chatted with feigned energy, but Alora saw her head nodding a couple of times before dinner was done. Using a tiny Coleman burner to heat some water, Uncle Charles made tea and cocoa. Huddled under a blanket while waiting for her share, Alora drifted to sleep, awakening inside the tent in a mass of body-filled sleeping bags packed so tightly she could barely move. Warm and cozy inside not one, but two mummy bags, she was reluctant to surrender to the inevitable daylight peaking through the tent window.

“Did I wake you up?” A voice whispered in her ear.

Alora pushed up on her elbows and looked to her left. Uncle Charles, in the sentry position between the guys and the girls, had already unzipped his bag and retrieved his coat from the pile of outerwear.

“I don’t think so.” A weird hissing, splashing sound drew her attention outside the tent. “What’s that noise?”

“That’s Imperial Geyser. You can’t see it from here; it’s on the other side of the trees. I can’t believe Lena and I never took you back here.” He hesitated, swallowing before he continued his hoarse whisper. “I guess we kind of avoided it. Like somehow, if we didn’t go back and see where it all started, we could pretend it hadn’t happened. We could sort of imagine you were really our daughter.”

“You and Aunt Lena didn’t have any kids of your own. I never asked why.”

Uncle Charles flinched, averting his gaze.

“You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay. We tried to have kids.” He blinked his watery eyes. “Your Aunt Lena was pregnant once and lost the baby at six months… a little girl. Then they discovered cancer. Ovarian cancer. So she lost her ovaries. Of course there were a lot of tears. But we were so happy she escaped with her life, we didn’t worry too much about not having babies.

“We talked about adopting but never followed through. So when you came along, it was like we were given a gift. The little girl we always wanted dropped right into our hands. In our hearts, we knew it was just a loan, so to speak. But aren’t all children like that? They’re not really ours… they’re just on loan from God for a while.”

Alora felt a huge lump in her throat. “I love you, Uncle Charles. No matter what happens, I’m glad I got dropped with you and Aunt Lena. You were the best mom and dad I could’ve asked for.”

She glanced behind her to be certain Arista was still sleeping. She heard soft snores from the boys behind her uncle. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this mission, and I want you to know I’m not afraid any more.”

“Good.” He nodded, his attempt at a smile looking more like indigestion.

She closed her eyes, concentrating, hoping to gain courage by speaking her thoughts aloud. “I’ve decided if we get caught, I’m not afraid to die. I’m not afraid of death or eternity. Maybe this is my destiny… our destiny, Kaevin and me. Maybe we’re supposed to help close the portal, and our purpose will be fulfilled. Then we won’t have to worry about the soulmate thing or getting rid of it or—”

“No!”

She opened her eyes to find a look of horror on Uncle Charles’ face as he slowly shook his head from side to side.