Alora: The Maladorn Scroll (Alora 3)

“Who’s this?” Meravelle asked Raelene, who seemed to know the boy. “And why is he...”

She forgot what she was saying when she saw it.

A portal.

Unmistakable. On the porch in front of the healing house. A portal where no portal had been only a few breaths before.

“Where did that come from?” she murmured, reaching her hand up to touch the portal door. “It’s solid. It’s not my imagination.”

“I made it,” the little boy boasted. “I simply wished with all my heart that I could go to Raelene.”

Then he spied the enemy guards, lined up on horseback. His bravado vanished, and his thin body began to tremble. Shielding him with her arms, Raelene hugged the boy, the green bag pressed between them.

Shouts arose from the Water Clan warriors as their towering captain brandished his sword in front of Grandfather, having evidently lost patience with his lecturing. Meravelle held her breath, praying for God’s mercy. She wanted to close her eyes, turn her head away, anything but stand by and witness her grandfather sacrifice his life. Yet she couldn’t help watching the horrifying scene.

“I’m not the foolish one, Old Man, you are. I’ll kill you first, and then perhaps your companions won’t continue to be as foolish as you.”

He jabbed the blade toward her grandfather, and Mera cried out, waiting for him to fall to the ground. But something strange happened. Somehow, the blade missed as the guard stumbled, off-balance, barely staying afoot. Righting himself, the giant warrior stared at his sword hand as if it belonged to another person. He called out an order over his shoulder, and the other Water Clan warriors dismounted, drawing their fearsome blades.

With a furious growl, the scarred warrior lunged again. This time his sword connected. Staggering, Grandfather dropped his useless blade, gripping his side, as blood bloomed on his tunic and dripped through his fingers, falling to the stone at his feet.

With tears blurring her vision, Meravelle awaited the killing blow.

It never came.

The hulking warrior spun around, slashing his sword again. But this time, his target was a surprised Water Clan warrior, who screamed as he fell to the ground.

Leaping from the ranks, a female warrior rushed forward, attacking the tall healer. Miraculously, he dodged the full force of her descending blade, escaping with only a bleeding arm.

Whirling in a circle, she wobbled as one who’d imbibed excess drink. Pointing her sword at the healer, she cackled. “Never have I missed my mark. Good fortune must be shining on you this day. But your fortune has ended now.”

She danced toward the white-faced healer, halting with her blade at his throat. Then her face distorted, and her blade arm withdrew. Moving like a wooden doll, she rotated, stepping over to join her captain in attacking her fellow warriors.

Then all the warriors seemed to attack at once, and many Craedenza defenders were struck down. Confusion reigned, however, as more and more Water Clan guards attacked the Craedenza defenders, only to change course and turn to attack their fellow warriors. Adding to the chaos, the giant captain screamed out, falling on his sword. Likewise, after slaying several of her own guards, the female slashed at her own throat, ending her killing spree.

“What’s happening?” Raelene asked Meravelle, squeezing the boy as if she could protect him from the gruesome reality of battle. “Water Clan is turning against itself.”

“It’s the prophecy.” The answer revealed itself in Mera’s mind, as clearly as if a lantern were lit in the darkness. “I never understood before. But now I know.”

“What prophecy?”

Meravelle quoted the words inscribed on the Craedenza cornerstone, the lines she’d memorized as a small child and repeated over and over throughout her youth—a sing-song phrase, spoken in naivety.

“Blood is shed and oath is given,

To Craedenza bound.

Shed the blood of blood so given,

Oathless to be bound.”

Round as moons, Raelene’s eyes opened wide. “Are you saying Vindrake’s warriors are binding themselves to protect the Craedenza?”

Mera nodded, realizing why the cryptic words were never explained. If Vindrake had known, he might’ve avoided shedding the defenders’ blood. As it was, his men and women had killed more of their own people than the almost defenseless Glaenshire citizens guarding the Craedenza.

“However, I believe the Craedenza bond is warring against Vindrake’s bloodbond and causing the warriors to lose their sanity.”

Watching the ongoing battle, Raelene frowned, “Some of the Water Clan warriors are now retreating. Those who escape will report to Vindrake, and he will undoubtedly find another way to kill the defenders. Why aren’t the Craedenza defenders chasing after them?”