Alora: The Portal (Alora 2)

“What’s that bell?” Arista kept her voice low, though the guards passed by at such a frenetic pace they were unlikely to be spotted in their dark alcove.

“I believe it signals a fire inside the caverns,” Alleraen said. “Not so much a danger from flames, since the rock walls prevent the spread, but heavy smoke will quickly spoil the air in every passage if it builds beyond what the vents can handle.” Alleraen bent to whisper in her ear, his curly, reddish-brown hair falling forward in his face. She noted his beard was the same color and texture.

“You don’t really look much like your brother.”

“I was told our mother had black hair like Vindrake’s, though I don’t remember her. My hair came from our father.”

She almost asked about his father, but noticed his expression had darkened. Irritated with the delay, she decided enough time had lapsed since the last guard passed. “Time to go.” Arista stepped out, but his hand grasped her arm, jerking her back into the shadows.

“Wait. More sentries are coming. I hear footsteps.”

She pulled her arm away with irritation, but his prediction proved true, as three more sentries hurried through the passageway. Craning her head up, she frowned at his expression. “Don’t look so smug. I could’ve made it to the other passageway before they arrived. I may be small, but I’m fast.”

“You’re also a child, and you should learn to obey your elders.”

“I’m no child; I have almost seventeen years. But I won’t dispute your claim to be elderly.” Arista laughed as she dashed down the corridor, padding silently in her stocking feet.

“I didn’t say elderly.”

She ignored his muttered protest, though impressed to find his voice so close behind her despite the breakneck pace she set.

“Hold up,” he whispered, grappling for her arm.

But she slipped away with a burst of speed, rounding the corner without slowing down. She slammed into a solid wall, bouncing back to the floor.

She looked up as the wall slowly rotated, revealing a large, humorless face atop a thick stone body with tree-trunk legs, wearing the uniform of Vindrake’s sentries. The human wall lifted his sword, slamming it down with a roar to slice her in two. She rolled to the side. His blade sliced the back of her loose shirt and clanked against the stone.

Whipping out a knife as she sprang to her feet, she let fly with perfect aim. The knife tip clanged, striking metal, bouncing off the breastplate beneath his tunic. No wonder he felt like a wall.

Dodging his blade again, Arista blessed her countless hours spent at swordplay with Jireo. The knife she withdrew from her stocking came out with its sheath, and she wasted precious time taking it off. His blade swung again. She leaned from its path, losing her balance and stumbling to her knees. He pulled his lips back, revealing jagged brown teeth. Arista scooted away. Her back hit the wall behind her. His sword point jabbed toward her ribs. She leapt to the side, throwing her knife as she fell.

The wall stood still. His hand dropped, and his sword clattered to the stone floor as he toppled slowly back, falling like a tree in a forest. His heavy body thudded to the floor, armor clanking against the stone.

Arista tasted blood in her mouth and realized she’d bitten her tongue. She chuckled. All that, and I injured my own self.

“I hope you’ll be a bit better at obeying me.” Alleraen offered his hand to Arista, hefting her to her feet. “Since I saved your life with my arrow.”

“My knife struck his left eye before your arrow struck his right one.”

“True, true… but your blade merely blinded him, while my arrow struck the killing blow.”

“Only after my knife made your target stand still. The skill was in hitting him while he moved.”

“But to be entirely accurate, the knife was mine as well. Did I not supply you with five metal blades as you had only strange lightweight knives of your own?”

“And does Vindrake’s guard, who donated your arrows, get credit for your shot as well?”

Alleraen grinned. “You make me understand at once all I’ve missed in my life… all the pains of fathering a recalcitrant child.”

*****

Jireo moved through the corridors with unerring accuracy, not only because of his gifting in direction and his knowledge of Daegreth’s detailed map, but also because his compulsion drew him to Kaevin. For whatever reason, Vindrake hadn’t killed them yet; of that much he was certain. A chill ran up his spine as he realized his certainty didn’t extend to Arista.

To his surprise, some of Vindrake’s sentries were quite content to let him go his way, intent on carrying their heavy buckets of water toward their destination. One even nodded, giving him an encouraging smile. Could Vindrake be losing control of his people? Or perhaps capturing Alora, along with the threat of fire, had divided his attention.

Then two guards emerged through a doorway, catching him by surprise. These two were obviously not inclined to let him pass through, drawing their swords with practiced surety. From his talks with Daegreth, he knew how the two were trained to fight in tandem… one to jump in and distract, parrying the enemy’s sword, while the other circled around to make the killing blow. His only chance was to strike before they separated.

Ambidextrous, Jireo drew a knife and threw with his left hand, following with a thrust of the short sword in his right. The blade flew true, embedding below the guard’s right shoulder, his sword dropping from his fingers to clang on the floor. He prayed Vindrake’s guard wasn’t likewise blessed with the ability to utilize the alternate hand.