Alora: The Maladorn Scroll (Alora 3)

A bead of sweat trickled from Alleraen’s forehead down to his chin, dripping onto his shirt to broaden the darkening wet patch on his chest. He could easily ignore the ever-increasing stench of body odor from the closely packed crew, but after standing still for several hands, he became drowsy, almost to the point of nodding off. A bit of verbal sparring with Thalaena was just what he needed to pass the time.

He bit back a smile, but only barely. Thalaena was tall, with well-defined muscles. Her agility gifting was exceptional, and she moved with incredible grace. Watching her spar was much like enjoying the movements of a talented dancer, though Alleraen could certainly beat her in a head-to-head match. Still, she would make a great weapons master, and he would obey her when she took that position, out of honest respect. That didn’t mean, however, that he couldn’t enjoy provoking her while she was still second in command. Especially since he wasn’t truly a Stone Clan citizen. Not yet. He’d declared his allegiance, as required by law, but he had yet to complete the year of service required to be a citizen.

“What? No sarcastic retort? So unlike you, Alleraen. Are you feeling ill? Perhaps you should go home and lie down to rest. Leave this strenuous duty to the younger warriors.”

“Are the younger warriors so daunted by my presence you must cajole me into leaving? Or perhaps you fear these infants will display their immaturity and lack of experience, retreating at the first sign of Vindrake’s assault?”

“I only fear an aged weapon has become so brittle it will break.” Her lip curled slightly on one corner.

“Do you not know iron becomes harder when thrust repeatedly into the fire? Trust me, Thalaena, my constant torture at my brother’s hand has tempered a sword that cannot be broken.”

“I can’t trust a weapon I’ve yet to wield, no matter how exaggerated its reputation. I’ve not seen it in action beyond the practice field.”

“Then you are indeed in for a treat, fair maiden.”

As he hoped, her cheeks turned a delightful shade of rosy pink, and she huffed a few times amid chortles of laughter from their companions. She was indeed both a maiden and fair, but the term irked her to the point her knuckles turned white as they gripped her sword handle.

He hoped to one day spur enough anger to make her draw a weapon. How he would love to fight her, especially knowing she had the gifting and skill to present a true challenge. He would relish the opportunity, though she might draw his blood. The sting would only make him feel alive, a sensation he’d longed for while held those many years in his brother’s dungeon.

“Enough!” she sputtered in a harsh whisper. “How will we surprise the invaders when you have alerted them to our presence with your idle chatter?”

With a heavy sigh, Alleraen resigned himself to a long and tedious wait. He tried to imagine his brother’s strategy. Why wait? Especially after creating a portal, certain to be discovered, within the residence of a gressor? Why not attack immediately? Perhaps Drakeon—his brother’s given name—desired his enemy to gather around the portal. Could he possibly send a weapon through the portal to destroy a large enemy force? Alleraen shivered at the thought. Perhaps his brother would send a ravenous wendt through the portal. If such a vile monster emerged, the Stone Clan warriors were as lambs waiting to be slaughtered.

In that moment, he recognized the error of their plan. Why were they waiting for Water Clan to attack in Laegenshire? Stone Clan must take the battle to Portshire. It was the only way to assure the safety of Laegenshire’s innocent citizens.

He started to share his idea, but the words died on his lips at the sight of a knife, floating in the air in the grasp of a disembodied hand near the portal location.

It’s too late.

~6~

Standing stark still, Alleraen kept his eyes on the knife, just over an arm’s length away. He lifted his sword. Timing was critical. He had to wait for more of the warrior’s body to be exposed before striking.

Thalaena moved, her body a blur. Leaping, she grabbed the wrist and twisted. The warrior screamed in pain as she jerked him out of the portal, bending him to the floor.

I suppose that works, if one doesn’t have the patience to wait for the intruder to emerge. He grinned, impressed with her initiative.

Tensing, Alleraen kept his eyes on the portal, waiting for the next warrior to emerge.

None came.

Was there only a single Water Clan warrior? Had the first warrior’s cry alerted the others to the danger?

Thalaena’s surprised exclamation drew his attention. “Markaeus? What are you doing here?”

Sure enough, the struggling warrior she’d captured was merely the boy, Markaeus.

“I’ve come to seal the portal.” Markaeus shook free from her grasp, rubbing his elbow as he backed away, his expression as ferocious as a wendt. “And I’ll kill Vindrake, as well. And you can’t stop me.”

Alleraen chuckled, an action that seemed to further infuriate Markaeus, who pivoted to glare at him.

“You think I’m too small to kill him? I can do it. I know how to slip inside his lair. You’ll see.”

“No, Markaeus. I certainly believe you’re capable. But you won’t find my brother here in Laegenshire. At least, not at the moment.”

“How did you come to be inside the portal?” asked Thalaena.

“Laegenshire? We’re in Laegenshire?” Markaeus spun in a circle, inspecting his surroundings. A joyous grin, sporting a missing tooth, broke out on his face, and he danced from foot to foot. “Do you know what this means? I didn’t kill Alora and Kaevin!”