At least this time, if I die, it won’t hurt. Death without torture doesn’t sound bad at all. And I could get some rest, too. And something to eat.
“Let me transport Markaeus here, Uncle Charles. If I pass out, you can carry me.”
“You can’t, Alora.” He buried his head in his hands and groaned. “You can’t transport him. Because, if he’s got my backpack, there’s a loaded pistol in it.”
“A gun?” She was alert now. Her heart was beating ninety miles an hour. “Uncle Charles! Why would you bring a gun here?”
“I didn’t mean to do it, Alora. We left in such a hurry. I grabbed my backpack out of the truck and threw a bunch of stuff inside. I forgot there was a gun in the inside pocket. As soon as I realized, I got Markaeus to hide it with that gressor gift of his, so it would be safe. I just pulled out my knives and stuck them in my pockets.”
“Does he know about the gun? Do you think he might try to use it?”
“I told him I had some dangerous stuff in there that I didn’t want him touching, but I didn’t mention the gun. I mentioned the pepper spray—he used that when we were escaping from Vindrake’s cavern.”
“Oh. My. Gosh.” Alora put her hands on her hips. “You better not say anything about Aunt Lena’s lamp after this.”
He scrunched his eyelids closed, radiating so much regret she felt sorry for him and her anger faded.
“What will we do now?” Arista asked from behind them.
Turning around, Alora saw Arista leaning her face out of the entrance with one hand on either side, so she appeared as a pair of floating hands holding a head in mid-air, with a long blond braid swinging from it.
Alora busted into a fit of giggles. “Arista, how can you be silly at a time like this?”
She laughed, tossing her messy braid over her shoulder. “I suggest I help the two of you up here, and you can wait inside the portal entrance, while I return and tell the others what’s happened.”
“Great idea,” said Alora. “And will you bring me back a granola bar?”
~16~
Markaeus quit struggling against his captor when he saw the other children. The three boys might’ve had a year or two more than him, but they were sobbing and shaking, obviously terrified. Bound with chains, Vindrake’s guards had lined them up in a row, laying them on the ground like logs waiting to be put on the fire. Of course, the Water Clan guards didn’t know Markaeus could have freed himself at any moment.
When the woman had called out from across the river, asking him to help her corral her horses and get them to safety away from the fire, he hurried over the bridge, not noticing her bondmark until it was too late. He supposed the other boys had been captured the same way.
On closer inspection, he found the boy lying beside him was actually a girl, but she had quite a few scabs on her shins—always a sign of a decent girl in his mind.
“Hey. What’s your name?” Markaeus whispered, nudging her with his toe. “What’s your name?”
Sniffing hard to stop crying, she peered at him through her thick wet lashes. In the firelight, her round gray eyes shone like silver coins.
“I’m Kavella. Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”
A sharp kick in his side took his breath away. “Stop talking! Master Vindrake wants quiet.”
“I’m only helping them calm down,” Markaeus retorted. “Vindrake’ll probably turn you into a wendt if they all keep crying like this.”
“Indeed, I might. Perhaps you should listen to the boy’s advice, Spugen.” A flickering shadow fell across Markaeus’ face as Vindrake loomed over him. “What’s your name, boy? You look familiar.”
His pulsed raced. Vindrake would recognize his name and he couldn’t lie to a judge.
“My sister calls me Trouble.”
Markaeus held his breath and noticed Spugen did the same. When Vindrake let out a rumble of laughter, Spugen joined in, wiping the sweat off his brow with his sleeve.
But Vindrake’s joviality was short-lived. He grabbed Spugen’s tunic, shoving him away and speaking in low urgent tones.
Kavella’s whimpering obscured his voice.
“Shhh,” Markaeus urged. “I need to hear this.”