Alora: The Maladorn Scroll (Alora 3)

“You could save him.” Mera’s hand tightened like a tourniquet.

The blood pumped in Alora’s head, pounding in her ears. I’ve already killed two people with my empathy—the guard and Laethan. How can I risk killing another?

“But I don’t—”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked it of you.” Releasing Alora’s arm, Mera covered her face with her hands.

“No, you shouldn’t. You see, I’m no good with empathy. If I make a mistake, Bardamen’ll die. I just don’t think I could handle it.”

Meravelle’s hands dropped, exposing her tear-streaked face.

“No, Bardamen’s life will not be at risk... Yours will.”

**************

Everyone was in the room.

Literally.

Everyone.

Nordamen—whom Alora had been hoping would snap his fingers and twitch his nose and fix Bardamen up in a jiffy—sat at his bedside, openly weeping.

“He can’t be saved, Alora,” Nordamen declared after hearing of the extended period during which Vindrake’s warriors fought with such clumsy efforts. “Such a ward as Bardamen held would require more than one life force could sustain. He was well aware of the consequences of his actions. He wouldn’t expect you to sacrifice your life for a hopeless cause.”

Graely, who’d insisted, of course, on coming with Nordamen, took the shaman at his word, speaking out against Alora’s intervention, but leaving the decision in the hands of the soulmate couple.

Doc was pacing against the wall, making comments like, “I’ll have to dispose of three more bodies when you’re all finished,” and “I should’ve just taken him to the hospital.”

“Being at the hospital didn’t help Alora,” Beth reminded him.

To which he responded, without blinking an eye, “You’re grounded.”

Alleraen fought hard to get out of his bed and join the crowd, but Doc insisted he stay lying down, having not had sufficient time to heal from a “shot to the gut, which he only survived by a miracle.”

So Alleraen had politely requested—with a lot of yelling and “brights”—his bed be rolled into the room with Bardamen. He held to his argument that he was closely related to Alora by blood and might be able to donate strength to keep her alive.

Jireo liked this idea a lot. Anything to keep Kaevin alive. He couldn’t sit or stand still, despite the bullet wound in his leg that left him dependent on crutches. As Uncle Charles would say, “He looked as nervous as a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.”

Not to be left out, Brian, Wesley and Arista stood against the opposite wall, watching the events unfold, along with Janice.

Uncle Charles cemented himself behind Alora, with Raelene beside him. Only Markaeus seemed untroubled about the healing attempt, dancing with excitement, an action that shook the bed since he was leaning on the foot of it.

All those people packed together in one small room were making Alora a little bit claustrophobic. And a little bit testy, as well.

“There’s room for one more person in here if he sits in Kaevin’s lap,” she sniped. “Why don’t you go see if the mailman wants to join us?”

“Already asked him,” Beth replied in a glib tone. “He didn’t have time to stay. Had to hurry home to watch Sergeant Justice in Unseen Secrets.

Her sarcastic response brought a few moans and snickers of laughter, lightening the tense mood, a happy circumstance Alora used to lift her own spirits.

Leave it to Beth.

“Being gifted in empathy means more than simply knowing what someone is feeling,” Mera began. “You can actually feel it along with them. More than an awareness of what a person is experiencing, you go through the experience together.”

Not wanting to waste time with general explanations, Alora jumped to the part she already knew. “Laethan told me he could take away a portion of someone’s pain. The way I understand it... if there’re two gallons of pain, I could take one gallon and the patient would only have one to bear.”

“That’s true,” said Mera. “And if you’re gifted in empathy, you could also project your pain in this manner. You could share half your pain, and only bear half for yourself.”