Alora: The Portal (11 page)

“Charles is correct. He’s more dangerous than you realize,” Kaevin agreed.

“He has Vindrake’s bloodbond,” Charles continued. “He already attacked one of the lab techs here at the hospital. As soon as he wakes up, he’ll try to kill you. What are you going to do? Keep him tied up all the time? Are you going to go out to work and leave Karen alone with a dangerous man?”

Brian pushed his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. We haven’t figured out the details. But Charles, he’s just a kid. He can’t be more than twenty years old.” He stepped around Kaevin and put his hand on the sleeping form.

“What are you doing?” asked Charles.

“If you take him to Laegenshire, I’m going with you.”

“You’d risk your life for this guy? You don’t even know him. Just because he looks like Steven doesn’t mean you owe him anything. It’s a freak accident.”

“Well Steven disagrees. He thinks there could be a real connection here. Especially after he heard about Karen losing the baby.” Brian lifted a stubborn chin.

“What baby? What are you talking about?” asked Charles.

Brian sighed, but kept his hand clasped around the sleeping man’s arm. “About two years before we had Wesley, Karen had a miscarriage. She was only five months along. It was a boy. And Steven says the same baby might have been born in a parallel world.”

Alora had been holding back her questions, but this revelation was too much. “Are you saying we might have exact counterparts in the other world? Like there are two parallel worlds with identical people in them? Actual doppelgangers?”

Brian shook his head. “Probably not doppelgangers. Steven says it wouldn’t work that way. There are too many variables. But with over millions and millions of DNA combinations it’s probable you could have two that are very similar in this world alone. You know how there are always people who win those celebrity-look-alike contests? Having another realm only increases the chance of that happening. The real miracle isn’t that they have similar DNA… It’s that we found him. What if it’s a God thing?”

Charles groaned. “You can’t pull the God-card, Brian. What am I supposed to say to that? How can I argue without sounding like I’m trying to thwart God’s will?”

“Then don’t argue. At least let me go to Laegenshire and talk to Graely and the council. Maybe they can figure out a way to help us.”

He threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Go make your case with Graely. Just remember, if you bring this guy back here and he ends up killing someone, it’s on your head. But I want him tied up any time he’s around Alora. I’m not willing to take any chances with her life, even if you’re willing to risk your own family for this stranger.”

Brian’s head dipped in a sharp nod. “Fine!”

“Fine!” Charles echoed.

“Fine,” said Alora, unable to hide a smile.

Kaevin glowered. “It isn’t fine with me. I dislike this man, in spite of his resemblance to anyone else.”

Reaching out to take his hand, Alora sent Kaevin a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay. We’ll let your father decide. Let’s go before the doppelganger wakes up.”

“Wait,” said Brian. Struggling with the boy’s limp body, Brian slid him to the floor. He sat down to cradle the boy’s head on his lap. “I don’t want him to fall again when we transport.”

Kaevin’s eyes rolled around as he bent to grasp Brian’s hand.

In spite of her uncle’s glare, Alora grinned and winked. “Back in a flash.”

Vindrake picked at a piece of gristle wedged between his molars. Having finished his midday meal, he rested comfortably in his chair while three men squirmed under his inspection.

A pale man with limp blond hair spoke up. “I promise, Sire, we never betrayed you. We couldn’t, with the bloodbond and all, not that we would ever desire to betray you. And we returned as soon as Graely freed us. Me and Faelowe and Harmaele, we came straight here.”

“Speak up and stop mumbling. I can barely hear you. What’s your name?”

“My name is Staefer.”

Vindrake still strained to hear his timid words. “Stone Clan captured you in the skirmish three moons ago. Why would Graely release you after our attack on Laegenshire? It’s hard to fathom why he would let you go unless you somehow won his favor.”

Staefer shifted his feet. “I promise, Sire, we did nothing to aid Stone Clan. Graely said we were no use to him because of the bondmarks.”

“Yet he could have simply had you executed. It is the choice I would have made in his place.”

“Graely announced he wouldn’t execute his prisoners because God demanded mercy.”

“And what do you imply? Do you believe Graely has God’s favor? Does my gifting and power not indicate God’s blessing?” Vindrake ground his teeth.

A deep red bloomed on Staefer’s face, spreading to his neck. “No. Of course not, Sire. I freely and gladly serve you.”

“And so you’re agreeing with me that it would’ve been better to execute you?”

“I… uhhh…”

“Are there others? How many more Water Clan warriors are prisoners in Laegenshire?”

A glance passed between Staefer and his silent companions. “I think I saw fifteen at the departing ceremony, including those who survived their injuries during the last battle. Of course we were all in chains—”

“He let you attend the departing ceremony?”

Staefer clasped his trembling hands together. “Well… uhmm… there were many Water Clan warriors in the pyre, so he thought we’d wish to attend.”

“He included enemy warriors in the pyre with his own people?”

“No, there was a separate pyre for the dead of Stone Clan.”

“Graely is a softhearted fool, but his sentiment will be his downfall. Why would he care about the wishes of his enemy prisoners?” A pleasant thought occurred to him. “Did Graely speak at the ceremony? What did he say about his son’s death? And Alora’s?”

“He didn’t mention them, Sire.”

“What?” He rose from his seat, looming over the cowering men. Why wouldn’t Graely mention their deaths? Was it possible Kaevin had survived the cut from the cursed blade? No, he’d seen it happen through the eyes of his warrior. Kaevin had fallen, his face quickly distorting in the throes of death. Surely he was now dead.

He turned on his heel, pacing around the cowering men, the blood pumping in his ears. He had to know. He needed a spy, so he could discover exactly what was happening in Laegenshire. He had to be certain Kaevin and Alora were dead. But how could he insert someone without the bondmark being detected?

Vindrake’s day was ruined with this new worry. And to make things worse, a slight tremor in his knees indicated the onset of fatigue. He had to maintain his focus to keep up the careful control on his legions by the bloodbond. Even in sleep, his mind continued to work, a constant drain on his energy. But Vindrake knew one thing would renew his vitality far more effectively than food and rest… to kill someone and absorb the life force.

Pausing to consider the three returned warriors who were carefully studying their feet, Vindrake’s lip curled in distaste. Any of the three would be a paltry snack, as none were strong and bold. He stretched his arm toward Staefer, clenching his fist, observing dispassionately as the man fell to the ground clutching his throat. Staefer’s eyes locked with his, filled with surprise and accusation. Remarkably, Vindrake felt a slight pang of guilt, an echo of the emotion he experienced the first time he took a life.

“Thank you for the ride.”

“I was glad for the company. The life of a peddler can be very solitary when I’m between towns, having only my wagonload of supplies with which to converse. I suppose I could always dialogue with my horse, but he’s become rather deaf with old age.” The pudgy man let out a belly laugh, the filthy locks of his blond hair bouncing across his face as he wobbled with merriment at his own joke. Vindrake flinched as the man’s foul breath assaulted his nostrils, but couldn’t help smiling at his companion’s good nature.

“Faelen, are you certain you can’t continue a bit further toward Portshire? Surely you could find a market for your wares in any shire.” Vindrake was loath to travel through Stone Clan afoot, fully aware of the potential danger, especially now that he carried something of value. Though Faelen’s wit was less than desirable, he was gifted in strength and weapons. In fact, he would’ve made a fine warrior if not for his penchant for strong drink.

“No, no. I wish I could. But I must return to my home and restock for the season. I must say, you’re a very pleasant young man to hale from Water Clan. Not that I personally have anything against you and your blue-eyed clansmen, but other folks from Stone Clan have plenty of negative things to say. When I get home, I intend to tell them all what a fine young man I met in you, Vindrake, blue eyes or no.”

“I thank you for that, Faelen. And thank you for the ride. You’ve saved me days of travel on foot.” Vindrake reached behind him to grasp his haversack, peaking inside to assure himself the precious scroll was safe within the folds.

He jumped when a hand grasped his shoulder. “I’ve had an inspiration… Why not make our camp together one more night before we part ways? I can start toward home in the morning light. Believe it or not, I’ve many a tale I’ve not yet told you.” He smiled a gap-toothed grin, and Vindrake readily agreed.

But as night set in, and Faelen’s raucous drunken snoring prevented Vindrake’s sleep, his mind wandered to the content of the pilfered scroll. He’d lamented loudly to Bastaeno at his lack of understanding of the ancient writing, for he’d recognized its value the moment the first words became clear to his eyes. The scroll was exactly the treasure he sought. As he’d long suspected, he could indeed increase his gifting, but he was startled at the price required. Over and over, he’d read the words, staring at the script until his eyes couldn’t focus. But there was no doubt his initial interpretation was correct. He could only gain a gift by severing it from its owner in death. He shuddered at the thought.

There were other instructions within the scroll, all of which felt dark and evil. But perhaps this was a case where a temporary wrong could be overlooked if the end result was good. To lead the people of Water Clan out of oppression to the position of power they deserved, he needed more than the gift of language. Utilizing the secrets contained in the scroll he could become the greatest leader Water Clan had ever seen, even surpassing his father. And finally, his father would be proud of him.

A thought occurred… a tiny niggle inching into his mind. Though he tried, he couldn’t ignore it, irritating like a small splinter under his skin. He knew his father might not approve of the scroll. If his father forbade him from acting on the scroll’s instructions, he would never gain another gift. The only sure way to increase his gifting would be to absorb another person’s gift before returning to his father in Water Clan. His father would never have to know how the gift had been obtained.

A cold sweat broke out on his brow, despite the warm night air, as he rummaged through his sack for his sheathed blade. He mumbled the words of allegiance required by the scroll. Knowing full well the spoken allegiance was but empty words, while the success of the process depended on a true commitment, he determined to make the attempt anyway. It was his only chance.

With a trembling hand, he laid the blade against the peddler’s neck. Faelen’s sudden loud snort quaked the very air around them, and Vindrake withdrew the knife, freezing in panic. Soon the drunken snore settled back into a normal rhythm. Vindrake gathered his nerve, set the knife’s edge against the sleeping man’s throat, and took a deep breath. He’d thought Faelen’s death would be instantaneous. Instead, he was horrified as Faelen woke, thrashing and gurgling, his condemning eyes holding Vindrake motionless in the moonlight as Faelen’s life force ebbed away.

Vindrake heaved the contents of his gut in violent retching. When the stomach spasms ceased, he retrieved his blade, only to fling it as far into the forest as possible, a considerable distance with his newly acquired strength. Unable to bear the sight of Faelen’s contorted face, Vindrake covered him with a blanket.

He picked up his rucksack and gazed down the empty road where the moonlight cast long grasping shadows. Tears ran down his face in a steady stream, splashing from his chin onto his shirt. He took one step and then another. Then he was running. Running away. Away from Faelen’s accusing eyes. He ran until his body gave way to exhaustion. But he never escaped.

Kaevin resisted the urge to give the sleeping enemy warrior a kick in the ribs. He could almost understand why Brian was interested in his welfare due to some chance resemblance to his son. But why did Alora defend him so passionately? Did she find him handsome? He wished fervently his father hadn’t opened the warrior’s shirt to examine the progress of his healing. She’d seemed a bit too interested in his well-muscled chest.

Brian gestured to where he lay on the ground, having removed his own coat to provide a makeshift pillow for his head. “Don’t you understand, Graely? I’m offering to take the boy off your hands, so he won’t cause you any trouble.”

“He won’t trouble me for long. The council has voted to release the prisoners in groups of three and send them back to Water Clan. This man has a bloodbond with Vindrake, and nothing can change that. So he’ll return to his home as soon as he’s recovered enough.”