Alora: The Maladorn Scroll (Alora 3)

Kaevin’s gaze darted about the room. “We won’t share the news about the Montana weapons with the council or anyone else in Laegenshire.”

“Why not?” asked Jireo.

Kaevin lowered his voice. “Father believes Vindrake has gained access to confidential council discussions. Through what dark magick, we don’t know. But three times we’ve moved our warrior patrols along the border, only to have Water Clan attack the towns left unguarded.”

“I thought your father ordered everyone who lives on the border to move closer. Didn’t they listen to him?”

Jireo said, “Graely can only provide guidance. His decrees aren’t enforceable unless voted into law.” He clamped a hand on Kaevin’s shoulder. “Your father’s not responsible for those who refuse to listen.”

“He feels responsible, nonetheless.”

“Well, when he gets home, I’ll give him some of Beth’s cookies. If that doesn’t perk him up, nothing will,” Alora said. “Where is he now?”

“He’s on his way to Rivershire, where the latest attack occurred, with Morvaen and a group of warriors. Nordamen left an alert seed-pod at every border community. He knows the instant a pod is destroyed, and this one was crushed a half-hand ago.”

Kaevin swallowed hard, and Alora felt his grief, like a dense fog. His unfocused eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“There were only eight families—simple farmers with children. They chose to ignore Father’s advice to move farther away from Water Clan because they did not wish to lose their homes and land.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Now they’ve lost everything.”

“Are they all... dead?” asked Beth, her lower lip trembling. “Vindrake killed them?”

“We can’t know.” Bitterness flowed out with Kaevin’s words like spitting out a mouthful of cough medicine. “But it’s probably best if he did. To live with Vindrake’s evil inside your mind controlling your actions is a fate worse than death.”

“That’s what Daegreth says,” Beth agreed, blinking rapidly.

Emotion swirled through the air, dissolving the oxygen in the room.

I’m suffocating.

Closing her eyes made it easier to shut the door on the feelings of her friends. It was hard enough to deal with her own sorrow and the terror evoked each time Vindrake was mentioned. Her breaths came faster and faster. Vertigo struck.

“Alora.” Kaevin’s warm hand clasped hers, soothing her frazzled nerves almost as if he were using empathy on her.

The panic faded. Her breathing returned to normal. Her head cleared.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

His grip tightened on her hand. “Father left me Stone Clan leader while he is gone.”

Alora’s heart swelled with pride for her soulmate, but Kaevin spilled out buckets of angst.

“You’re more than ready, brother.” Jireo reached around Alora to clap him on the back. “With me at your side to offer wise counsel, I don’t believe you can fail.”

Kaevin grinned. “You assume I’ll seek your advice.”

“Be warned! Should you spurn my generous offer, I will see that you are defenestrated.”

“Spare me, Jireo!” Alora shoved him with her elbow. “Defenestrated? When did you have time to learn a new word from Wesley?”

“You wound me, Alora. You believe that my words would be plain but for Wesley’s magick talker?”

A thump. A rattle. The door swung open.

“I suppose you’ve eaten all the food, Jireo.” Arista stomped across the room to peruse the table, as grumpy as Uncle Charles when he had to make his quarterly tax payment to the IRS.

“Simply because you can’t arrive any place on time doesn’t mean the rest of us should starve ourselves,” Jireo replied. “And you could’ve eaten at home.”

“I’ve hardly spent any time with my friends, since being assigned to Markaeus to practice portal building. Day after day of fruitless effort.” As Arista bent to reach over Kaevin’s shoulder and snatch a lone slice of bread, her long braid fell down, slapping Alora in the face.