Alora: The Portal (6 page)

“I don’t see the wendt,” Alora said. “In fact, I don’t see anyone. You don’t think it killed everyone while we were gone, do you?” Her voice quavered along with the rest of her.

“We weren’t gone that long. Likely, the wendt struck again, and the warriors fled the area. Take us to Wesley. Perhaps he’s spotted the creature somewhere.”

“Okay… I hate to ask, but could you kiss me?”

At her words he became aware of an insistent throbbing in his head. “I’m sorry—my head hurts, too. I’m afraid I’ve become accustomed to ignoring the pain.” He bent to touch his lips to hers and felt the aching dissipate like water pouring from a bucket. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the softness of her responsive lips.

“Eh-hem! We don’t really have time for that.” Jireo’s elbow dug into Kaevin’s ribs.

Kaevin saw they’d arrived on an elevated archer’s platform occupied by a group of Stone Clan bowmen, several of whom were chuckling at Jireo’s quip. The huge logs supported the stand at a height of at least three arm spans, and sported a protective wall with open slots to aim and shoot through.

Wesley lifted his chin to acknowledge their presence but kept his eyes peeled to the skies. He looked out of place in his American garb. Kaevin realized he was wearing the same type of thing, jeans and a t-shirt with a picture of snowcapped mountains emblazoned with the words,
BIG SKY MONTANA
.

“Take this—I’ve an extra sword. And you can carry this sharpstop if you like. The strap won’t fit over my splint.”

Kaevin accepted the weapons from Jireo, his heart lifting at the familiar feel of the sword in his hand. He wanted to strip off his foreign clothes and change into his own leather pants. He wanted to fight like a true Stone Clansman. It wasn’t fair that his friend had already been wounded and was back in the fray while he was relegated to assisting Alora.

“Have you seen the wendt?” Alora asked.

“Only one,” Wesley answered, straining his eyes as a cloud passed over the moon. “I got one arrow into him, but it didn’t even slow him down. My other arrow just bounced off his hide. I thought maybe the other archers could aim at the shaft, but you can’t see it very well in the moonlight.”

“The wendt got someone.” Wesley continued in a shaky voice, swallowing hard. “It was horrible. I can’t get the image out of my mind. He was screaming, begging for help. The other archers shot at him. You know, they could see the warrior even though they couldn’t see the wendt. One of the arrows killed the warrior; at least I hope that’s what happened. He finally stopped screaming.”

“Did they kill the wendt?” Kaevin knew the answer even before he asked.

“It was too far away, and that hide is too tough. Two arrows actually hit, I think, but couldn’t penetrate that skin or scales or whatever it is. I wish I had my compound bow. I could totally get this thing if I had it.”

Kaevin felt a tug on his shirt and turned to see Alora motioning to whisper in his ear. “We could get that compound bow for him. We might have a better chance than attempting to send that wendt to Vindrake. You know, it’s really hard for me to see it well enough to get a grip on it.”

“To get a grip on it?”

“That’s the best way I can describe it. I have to be able to grab it with my mind. Animals are so much harder than people unless you know them well.”

He growled his irritation. Running off to Montana wouldn’t help his pride, but Alora’s reasoning was sound.

“Very well, we’ll go get his bow,” he muttered, handing his weapons back to Jireo.

“Wesley, where do you keep that bow?” Alora asked. “Can we get it without your parents spotting us?”

“You’re gonna get it for me?” His eyes lit up. “Awesome. It’s in my room, though. Have you ever been there?”

Her face fell. “No, I’ve only been in your kitchen and living room.”

“I’ve been in his room,” Kaevin said.

“Maybe that’ll work.” Alora scrunched up her nose.

“We’ve transported successfully with me guiding in the past, but we need to hurry.” Kaevin pulled her to the side, anxious to grab the bow and return to the battle.

“You have to concentrate on Wesley’s room. Can you picture it in your mind? It’s easier to go to a person than a place, you know. You don’t want to lead us to the wrong place.”

“I can do it. Go ahead—I’m thinking about it.” He tried to hide his impatience as he closed his eyes to concentrate. He felt the platform shift under his feet, and suddenly the chill air was gone.

“Alora? Kaevin? What are you doing here? And where’s Wesley?”

Kaevin opened his eyes to face Wesley’s father, Brian Franks, standing in the family’s den, rather than the desired bedroom.

“Hi, Mr. Franks.” Alora’s face was white, and she spoke with a strained smile. “We were just fetching Wesley’s bow for him. We didn’t mean to bother you. We were supposed to pop right into his bedroom.”

“Why didn’t Wesley come get it himself? And where is he planning to shoot his bow at this time of night? You need to
pop
right back to Wesley and tell him he’s out past curfew, even if it isn’t a school night. And ask him why he hasn’t answered his cell phone.”

“Okay, we’ll tell him. Do you mind if we get that bow for him, though? I think he was going to show it to my uncle or something.”

“Hasn’t your uncle seen his bow before? And why does he want to see it right now?” Brian’s eyes narrowed.

Kaevin desperately wished Beth had come with them. She always seemed to be able to come up with plausible lies. Perhaps it was a gift. If it was, Alora obviously didn’t possess it. He kept his mouth shut—he wasn’t a talented liar either.

“I think they were going to do some night hunting. Uncle Charles has this spotlight they were going to use.”

“Deer hunting?” Brian seemed upset at this idea.

“Uhmm… I don’t know. Maybe it was elk or something?”

Brian took two steps forward and put his hand on Alora’s arm. “What’s going on? Tell me the truth. I don’t believe for a second your uncle or Wesley would hunt out of season, especially using a spotlight, which is also illegal.”

“Out of season? What does that mean?” Kaevin asked.

“Never mind that,” said Brian. “Where is he?”

“He’s in Laegenshire, but it was an accident,” said Alora. “Beth grabbed my arm, and they both went with us. And there’s this big battle happening right now, and Wesley’s the only one who can shoot the wendts.”

“And why is Wesley the only one who can shoot the… the… whatever you just said?”

“She speaks the truth, Brian,” Kaevin said. “We don’t understand the reason, but only Alora and Wesley can see the wendts. They’re invisible to the rest of us. And they’re horrific creatures, quite deadly, with a hide that doesn’t pierce easily. Thus Wesley’s request for his special bow.”

“I’ll get his bow, but I’m going with you.” Brian disappeared down the hallway, returning moments later with not one, but two bows. He scribbled a note on a piece of paper and left it on his chair. “Just in case Karen wakes up,” he explained. “You know how wives worry. I’m ready, and now I’ll have a weapon of my own. I’m betting I can see these things if Wesley can.”

“If not, there are plenty of other enemy warriors to shoot,” said Kaevin.

“Straight back to Wesley?” she asked.

Kaevin nodded, bemoaning the time wasted with Wesley’s father. Perhaps if they hurried, he’d still have a chance to fight. 

Even in the dim moonlight
, Kaevin could see Wesley’s face blanch when his father appeared on the archer’s platform.

“Dad? Please don’t be mad at me. I didn’t come here on purpose.”

“Never mind. We’ll discuss it later.” Brian handed Wesley a bow. “You have some arrows we can use? And where are these wings we’re supposed to kill?”

“Wendts,” Wesley corrected with a relieved grin, his tense expression relaxing as he handed his father an arrow. “These wooden shafts will pretty much disintegrate on impact after being shot from a compound bow. But the tip goes in just fine. Even with that much force, it may take several shots to bring down a wendt, assuming you can even see it.”

“Kaevin!” Jireo shouted, and Kaevin’s eyes followed the direction of his friend’s outstretched arm. “It’s your father. Their group is outnumbered, two to one, and their backs are against the wall.”

Finally, a chance to prove my worth.
Kaevin was halfway down the ladder, with Jireo following awkwardly behind, when he heard Alora’s voice.

“Wait, Kaevin! What about me?”

“You’ll be safe up here. You can always bring me back if you need me.” He ignored the warning voice inside his head. After all, he couldn’t remain by her side every moment for the rest of his life. And he couldn’t stand idly by while the rest of his people fought against Water Clan—not if he was going to be the next Stone Clan chief.

Alora felt nausea bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Something felt wrong. Something bad was happening. No, something evil was coming. The wendt had returned. The shrill screech rang in her ears. She wanted to turn her face away from the monster. Yet her eyes locked onto it, and she couldn’t tear them away.

The bright moonlight gave a sickeningly clear view of the approaching creature. Like a humongous bat, the wendt flapped its leathery wings. The thick, heavy body seemed similar to movie scenes of a small dragon. But the strongest impression was the malevolence emanating from every pore on its body, as if it pushed a nauseating fog in its wake.

“Wesley, Mr. Franks… do you see it?”

“I can see it,” Brian declared.

“Let it get closer,” said Wesley. “Don’t waste an arrow.”

Alora kept her gaze on the creature, ready to send it back to Vindrake the moment she felt her wander-jewel had linked to it.

“Ready?” asked Wesley. “On my mark… Three… Two… One…
Now
.”

She never saw the arrows leave the bows, but she heard their release. And she saw them impact the wendt. It screamed and faltered but continued its relentless flight toward the heart of Laegenshire.

Mr. Franks muttered something and then darted his eyes toward her. “Sorry Alora. I’ll try to watch my language.” He and Wesley had already nocked a second set of arrows.

“Go,” said Wesley.

Now the wendt was almost directly overhead. An arrow hit the creature’s neck. Was it Wesley’s or Mr. Franks’? Either way, the animal dropped like a rock toward the platform. Like a really large rock. Wesley yelled a warning, pointing at the plunging dead body, but it was too late to escape. Alora steeled herself, staring, as the wendt’s form grew larger and larger. She knew the moment she could tag him—it felt like a dawning recognition. Without a moment to spare, she sent him to Vindrake, wherever he might be.

“Sire! Are you injured?”

Vindrake fumed as he picked himself up from the ground. This time Alora had sent the wendt on a collision course with his horse. The steed had startled, rearing to throw him off in a most undignified fashion. He cursed when his right foot gave way, pain shooting through his ankle.

Glaring at his guard, he trembled with barely restrained anger. Were they laughing at his distress? No they couldn’t laugh—not outwardly—because the bloodbond prevented it. Yet Vindrake felt it… Some of them were delighted he’d been thrown from his horse. He remembered another time when he’d been publicly humiliated. The laughter of his father’s council members still rang in his ears.

“No, Vindrake, you’ve already received all the gifts God granted you… you can never gain another. Yet, you mustn’t fret. For the council will recognize your leadership when you are of age to replace me, regardless of the gifts you possess. Also, with your brother coming into gifts of strength and weapons, he’ll be poised to be your weapons master. His gifts will more than accommodate any you are lacking.”

“Vinnasae speaks truth, Drakeon.” Barristae, the chief judge of Water Clan, affirmed with a nod. “The council is sworn to follow the succession of leadership.”

“But Father, if I study the ancient scrolls, I may find a way to acquire more gifts. Perhaps I may even be able to obtain another major power. My gifting in language is strong. I may decipher meanings others have missed.”

Stifled laughter tittered throughout the room as Vindrake’s cheeks burned.

“Vindrake, we haven’t time or warriors to spare on a useless expedition to the Craedenza in Glaenshire.” An indulgent expression covered his father’s face, but irritation crept into the edges of his smile.

“I could go alone. I don’t need any warriors with me.”

This time his father laughed aloud, and the council members joined in the chorus. Vindrake turned his back to hide his burning cheeks.

“Ah, Drakeon BarVinnasae, you may not have my gifting, but you have my courage, misguided though you may be. Surely you can recognize you could never travel in safety on the long journey to Glaenshire when you have no gifting in strength, agility, or weapons?”

“But I could. I believe I may have gifting in wisdom as well as language. With wisdom, I could always determine the way of safety.”

“Enough, Vindrake! We have had this discussion for the last time. My decision is final. If you had the gift of wisdom you would know this idea is folly.” His father’s lips pressed in a straight line, his eyes narrowing to small blue slits.

Vindrake turned on his heel, striding from the room with feigned dignity as the council’s laughter followed him.

Never again. When he became clan leader, he wouldn’t allow anyone to laugh at him, especially those who served under him on the council.

Now he sensed that same amusement in the minds of his men, cloaked by the force of his bondmark. He could simply kill them all if he didn’t need them for protection. Or he could make an example of one, teaching the others never to think lightly of his discomfort. After all, he needed to dispatch someone to provide the life force to create a replacement wendt.

Which of his warriors looked most deserving? He spied one who’d be perfect, a hint of defiance in his eyes. He would make an awe-inspiring wendt… The larger the life force—the larger the wendt. Those who were frail, fearful, or sickly made smaller, weaker wendts. Although the feeblest of wendts were still mindless and effective killing creatures, a beast from the spirited guard would be truly spectacular. He smiled in anticipation.

“Where did it go? I thought we were goners.” Mr. Franks craned his head, attempting to peer onto the ground below.

Wesley answered for her. “She transported it away—sent it to Vindrake. Right Alora?”

Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she quivered from head to toe. But at least the source of her nausea was gone. “Yep. Sent him packing.” She spoke with false bravado, embarrassed by her nervous reaction.

She felt a strange emptiness with Kaevin away from her side, and struggled against the urge to bring him back. He could be in the middle of a sword fight, and she might cause someone to lose his life. Ugh. The thought of Kaevin in danger brought a new queasiness to her belly.

“Thanks Dad. It’s really cool you helped instead of yelling at me.” Wesley reached out to shake his hand, but his father responded with a rather awkward hug.

“The yelling will come later, son. You have a few things to answer for when we get home. But as long as we’re here, we’ll make ourselves useful. Just don’t tell your mother.”

“But Dad—”

“We’ll discuss it later. Right now I want to know… Are there more of those things?”

“I’m pretty sure we killed that one. And I think there was only one other, but it was still alive when Alora sent it to Vindrake. I guess it could come back.”

She prayed it wouldn’t. “Morvaen thinks Vindrake is still in Portshire. That’s three days away from here. So hopefully we won’t see any more wendts.”

“The Stone Clan archers are moving to a different place, since there aren’t any enemy warriors close by.” Mr. Franks pointed over Alora’s shoulder. “But I was thinking you could take Wesley and I to the roof of that building over there.”

“Yes, but your arrows wouldn’t come with us. Or else the arrowheads wouldn’t transport.”

Mr. Franks screwed his mouth to the side. “Either way, we’d be up a proverbial creak without a paddle.”

“Or up a proverbial roof without an arrow,” said Alora.

“I guess we can just walk or, better yet, run.” Wesley tightened the strap on his quiver, preparing to follow the others. But his head jerked around at a blood-curdling shriek.

She couldn’t tell if the dry heaves that hit her were caused by the wendt’s wicked aura or her own fear. How many of those awful creatures were out there? Was this a new one or the one she’d sent to Vindrake earlier?

Wesley and Mr. Franks hurried to nock their arrows and take aim, firing in unison, while Alora attempted to lock onto the wendt with her consciousness.

With the spectacular wendt on its way to Laegenshire, Vindrake turned his attention to more important matters… killing Kaevin BarGraely. Hanging the sightstone on the neck of his specially chosen guard, Zaester, Vindrake attempted to keep his excitement in check. Stone Clan, smaller and weaker than Water Clan, should have fallen to him twenty years ago when Vindrake killed Graely’s father, Stone Clan’s leader. Instead, Graely had rallied his people to fight with renewed vigor.
I won’t make that mistake again. This time, the priority is to eliminate Kaevin, Graely’s son. Without a living heir Graely will lose hope, and Stone Clan will be mine. Of course, Graely’s death would be an additional boon.

Electing to remain a safe distance away with a minimal protective force of twelve, Vindrake settled in to watch the proceedings through Zaester’s eyes. Fatigue was setting in from the creation of the three wendts and cloaking them with invisibility. Wielding his bondmark during battle also required great strength as most of his warriors fought without internal motivation. Only a few had the evil and bloodlust that required little manipulation. But none of his men were aware these tasks drained his energy, a secret he guarded closely.

In the previous group, the two warriors with sightstones had been killed within the first half tenth.

He gazed into the partner stone, watching Zaester’s progress, hoping he wouldn’t be killed before accomplishing his purpose. He’d given this guard strict instructions, along with his compulsion, to avoid battle at all costs. Even with invisibility cloaking, he was to hide in the shadows and search for Kaevin and Alora. This was his one and only goal.

Soon he’d have his revenge, and Graely BarManasae would be defeated. He’d been so close to victory when he’d first captured Kaevin BarGraely, but he hadn’t realized Alora and the boy were soulmates. Now he knew their vulnerability. And unbelievably, Graely had been foolish enough to place the pair within his reach rather than keeping them safely hidden in the other realm.

His plan was foolproof. The guard’s evil-imbued blade need only scratch the skin of Alora or Kaevin, and death would be inevitable. A fortnight earlier he’d tested the blade on an unwilling volunteer and was pleased with the results. It was a rather grotesque death and painfully slow. The man’s face had puffed up until his eyes could no longer open. He’d grabbed at his neck, his desperate wheezing persisting until the air could no longer pass through his swollen throat. After the unfortunate soul had collapsed to the floor, he’d continued to thrash until he lost consciousness. The entire process had been over in the span of the sun moving half a fist.

The resultant corpse was so disgusting he determined to make Kaevin the target of the cursed sword. Alora’s face was quite beautiful, and he enjoyed that reflection on him as her father. It would be fitting for his daughter to retain her lovely visage in death.

Had the poison sword not been so costly, he would have made dozens to utilize in battle. Unfortunately, he’d had to sacrifice twenty-five men to satisfy the requirements of the magick, resulting in a blade only effective for a single use. Had he learned of the deadly sword in any place other than the Scroll of Maladorn, it might have seemed a work of evil. But, knowing God had been responsible for placing the scroll in his hands, he knew he had God’s blessing in his efforts.

To find Kaevin within the walls of Laegenshire should be a simple matter. Vindrake had returned to the scene of the last skirmish to retrieve anything of value. In the location where Graely’s son had been held captive for questioning, he pocketed several stones bloodied from Kaevin’s injuries. With a bit of dried blood, it was a simple matter to concoct a tracking potion. Now Vindrake’s warrior, having swallowed some of the brew, would move unerringly toward Kaevin, provided he was within a half-day travel.