Alora: The Maladorn Scroll (Alora 3)

“Laethan? He’s infuriating!” Doc let out a few colorful words as he jumped out of the chair, but Mera didn’t react. Hopefully she didn’t understand American curse words. “We made plans together—to teach each other. He knew I didn’t understand all this witch doctor stuff. That man had no right to go off and die.”

In the awkward silence that followed, Alora fought back her grief. She felt much the same way as Doc.

“I’m... uhh... sorry for my colorful language.” Doc had the good grace to blush—rather amazing, since he usually didn’t seem to notice when he used curse words. Maybe Janice was starting to have a good effect on him.

“So I guess Laethan didn’t tell you how to wake Bardamen up?”

“All he said was ‘Bardamen is gone, as Alora was gone.’ And then he said something, like Han Solo would’ve said, about life force.”

Alora moved closer to the bed, reaching out to touch Bardamen’s cold hand and resisting the urge to shake him awake. “We’re hoping Nordamen will know what to do as soon as I take him back to Laegenshire.”

Doc waved his hand to offer his chair to Mera, who hadn’t said a word the entire time.

“I’ll be honest, Alora. His respiratory rate is dropping, and we don’t have any way to keep him breathing here. I can take him to the hospital or you can take him to Laegenshire. But we have to do something within the hour because I can’t sit here and watch this man die in my basement.”

Alora felt the blood drain from her face. “I didn’t know he was that critical. Maybe I should bring Nordamen here instead.”

“I think that might be a good idea.” Doc started toward the door.

“Wait! Would you tell Jireo? Because he has to contact Darielle so she can tell Nordamen before I transport him.”

“I’ll try.” He stomped off, muttering something about communicators and transporters.

Mera perched on the edge of the chair, her stiff back radiating her tension. “Perhaps one of the other healers from Laegenshire could save him.”

Alora almost cried at Mera’s desperation, but she didn’t want to give her false hope.

“We don’t have any more healers like Laethan. He was an exceptional healer, and I think it had to do with him breaking the law.”

“Which law did he break?”

“The one that says a healer can’t have the gift of empathy, or if you’re gifted in empathy you can’t be a healer or something like that.”

“Ah.” She nodded understanding. “This law is rather recent. In the past, many Tenavae healers were gifted in empathy. Though dangerous to the healer, the gift enhances healing above all others. I suppose you have no other healers with the gift, then.”

“Well, if they have it, they sure aren’t going to admit it. Not after the council canned Laethan.”

“Canned?”

“You know... they fired him.”

“They burned him?”

“No, they took his job away. Well, he quit, before they could take it away.”

“Whatever the circumstances, it’s unfortunate we can’t call on a healer with empathy. But not surprising—the gift has become so rare.”

Alora sat down in the adjacent chair, watching Bardamen’s chest rise and fall, wondering if each breath might be his last.

“They told me empathy is rare. That’s one of many reasons I’m so sad we lost Laethan. There’s no one else to teach me about my empathy.”

Mera’s head jerked toward Alora. “You have the gift?”

“Yeah, it’s too bad I haven’t learned how to use it yet. I’ve spent most of my time trying to undo my empathy mistakes.”

A hand gripped her arm. “You have the gift of empathy?”

“Yes, but—”