Alora: The Portal (Alora 2)

“My name is Staefer.”

Vindrake still strained to hear his timid words. “Stone Clan captured you in the skirmish three moons ago. Why would Graely release you after our attack on Laegenshire? It’s hard to fathom why he would let you go unless you somehow won his favor.”

Staefer shifted his feet. “I promise, Sire, we did nothing to aid Stone Clan. Graely said we were no use to him because of the bondmarks.”

“Yet he could have simply had you executed. It is the choice I would have made in his place.”

“Graely announced he wouldn’t execute his prisoners because God demanded mercy.”

“And what do you imply? Do you believe Graely has God’s favor? Does my gifting and power not indicate God’s blessing?” Vindrake ground his teeth.

A deep red bloomed on Staefer’s face, spreading to his neck. “No. Of course not, Sire. I freely and gladly serve you.”

“And so you’re agreeing with me that it would’ve been better to execute you?”

“I… uhhh…”

“

Are there others? How many more Water Clan warriors are prisoners in Laegenshire?”

A glance passed between Staefer and his silent companions. “I think I saw fifteen at the departing ceremony, including those who survived their injuries during the last battle. Of course we were all in chains—”

“He let you attend the departing ceremony?”

Staefer clasped his trembling hands together. “Well… uhmm… there were many Water Clan warriors in the pyre, so he thought we’d wish to attend.”

“He included enemy warriors in the pyre with his own people?”

“No, there was a separate pyre for the dead of Stone Clan.”

“Graely is a softhearted fool, but his sentiment will be his downfall. Why would he care about the wishes of his enemy prisoners?” A pleasant thought occurred to him. “Did Graely speak at the ceremony? What did he say about his son’s death? And Alora’s?”

“He didn’t mention them, Sire.”

“What?” He rose from his seat, looming over the cowering men. Why wouldn’t Graely mention their deaths? Was it possible Kaevin had survived the cut from the cursed blade? No, he’d seen it happen through the eyes of his warrior. Kaevin had fallen, his face quickly distorting in the throes of death. Surely he was now dead.

He turned on his heel, pacing around the cowering men, the blood pumping in his ears. He had to know. He needed a spy, so he could discover exactly what was happening in Laegenshire. He had to be certain Kaevin and Alora were dead. But how could he insert someone without the bondmark being detected?

Vindrake’s day was ruined with this new worry. And to make things worse, a slight tremor in his knees indicated the onset of fatigue. He had to maintain his focus to keep up the careful control on his legions by the bloodbond. Even in sleep, his mind continued to work, a constant drain on his energy. But Vindrake knew one thing would renew his vitality far more effectively than food and rest… to kill someone and absorb the life force.

Pausing to consider the three returned warriors who were carefully studying their feet, Vindrake’s lip curled in distaste. Any of the three would be a paltry snack, as none were strong and bold. He stretched his arm toward Staefer, clenching his fist, observing dispassionately as the man fell to the ground clutching his throat. Staefer’s eyes locked with his, filled with surprise and accusation. Remarkably, Vindrake felt a slight pang of guilt, an echo of the emotion he experienced the first time he took a life.

“Thank you for the ride.”

“I was glad for the company. The life of a peddler can be very solitary when I’m between towns, having only my wagonload of supplies with which to converse. I suppose I could always dialogue with my horse, but he’s become rather deaf with old age.” The pudgy man let out a belly laugh, the filthy locks of his blond hair bouncing across his face as he wobbled with merriment at his own joke. Vindrake flinched as the man’s foul breath assaulted his nostrils, but couldn’t help smiling at his companion’s good nature.

“Faelen, are you certain you can’t continue a bit further toward Portshire? Surely you could find a market for your wares in any shire.” Vindrake was loath to travel through Stone Clan afoot, fully aware of the potential danger, especially now that he carried something of value. Though Faelen’s wit was less than desirable, he was gifted in strength and weapons. In fact, he would’ve made a fine warrior if not for his penchant for strong drink.

“No, no. I wish I could. But I must return to my home and restock for the season. I must say, you’re a very pleasant young man to hale from Water Clan. Not that I personally have anything against you and your blue-eyed clansmen, but other folks from Stone Clan have plenty of negative things to say. When I get home, I intend to tell them all what a fine young man I met in you, Vindrake, blue eyes or no.”

“I thank you for that, Faelen. And thank you for the ride. You’ve saved me days of travel on foot.” Vindrake reached behind him to grasp his haversack, peaking inside to assure himself the precious scroll was safe within the folds.

He jumped when a hand grasped his shoulder. “I’ve had an inspiration… Why not make our camp together one more night before we part ways? I can start toward home in the morning light. Believe it or not, I’ve many a tale I’ve not yet told you.” He smiled a gap-toothed grin, and Vindrake readily agreed.

But as night set in, and Faelen’s raucous drunken snoring prevented Vindrake’s sleep, his mind wandered to the content of the pilfered scroll. He’d lamented loudly to Bastaeno at his lack of understanding of the ancient writing, for he’d recognized its value the moment the first words became clear to his eyes. The scroll was exactly the treasure he sought. As he’d long suspected, he could indeed increase his gifting, but he was startled at the price required. Over and over, he’d read the words, staring at the script until his eyes couldn’t focus. But there was no doubt his initial interpretation was correct. He could only gain a gift by severing it from its owner in death. He shuddered at the thought.

There were other instructions within the scroll, all of which felt dark and evil. But perhaps this was a case where a temporary wrong could be overlooked if the end result was good. To lead the people of Water Clan out of oppression to the position of power they deserved, he needed more than the gift of language. Utilizing the secrets contained in the scroll he could become the greatest leader Water Clan had ever seen, even surpassing his father. And finally, his father would be proud of him.