by Tamie Dearen
Alora:
The Maladorn Scroll
Book Three of the Alora Series
by
Tamie Dearen
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author. To the extent any real names of individuals, locations, businesses or organizations are included in the book, they are used fictitiously and not intended to be taken otherwise.
Alora: The Maladorn Scroll
by Tamie Dearen
Copyright © 2016
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means now known or hereafter invented, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
Cover design by StunningBookCovers.com
Dedication
To Bruce, my soulmate... Thank you for all the many times you’ve sacrificed your life for mine.
Acknowledgements
First, I want to thank all my beta readers: Bill Turley, Randy Tramp, Scotty Shepherd, Janice Haverland, Michelle Isenhoff, Suzanne Droleskey, Elizabeth Drake, G. Greene, Stephanie Adams, F.P. Spirit, and Tiffany Kamphius. Thank you, Stunning Book Covers, for working so hard to make a visual image of what’s inside my head. Thanks also to my professional editor for your meticulously detailed work. Thanks to my awesome final editor and formatter. To my family and friends who supported me in my writing... you rock!
I’d also like to express my gratitude to the cover model, Aurora Vigna. Thank you for bringing Alora to life.
Note from the Author
In an attempt to accurately recount these tales as told to me by Alora and her friends, I have included many details, such as people who, while their roles may seem minor in the overall scope of the story, deserve to be recognized by name. As I know this can make the book confusing, I’ve included a Glossary of Characters at the end of the book to help jog your memory. I hope you enjoy this account as much as I did when I heard it the first time. If you have any thoughts or questions, feel free to contact me on the website. I make every attempt to send a prompt personal response.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Table of Contents
~1~
~2~
~3~
~4~
~5~
~6~
~7~
~8~
~9~
~10~
~11~
~12~
~13~
~14~
~15~
~16~
~17~
~18~
~19~
~20~
~21~
~22~
~23~
~24~
Epilogue
~ Glossary ~
Graceful water, flow and course
Gentle, placid stream
Dammed and stilted, builds the force
Calm, though it may seem
Dripping, trickling through the flaw
More erodes, the rift
Churning floods escape the maw
Holds no more, the gift
~1~
A flurry of vivid memories swirled in Alora’s head and her stomach clenched with terror. Struggling to protect Kaevin from her dark feelings, she bit her lip, strengthening the inner wall, which held her emotions inside. Where they belonged.
It’s all over. Don’t think about it.
She concentrated on the motion of the sheer curtains, waffling in the gentle breeze that blew through the windows and smelled of newly cut wood. Kaevin and Jireo had risen hours earlier, splitting logs while the air was cool, already restocking the woodpile in preparation for the long Montana winter, though it was only the first of June.
Freshly showered, Kaevin’s brown hair hung in damp waves on his broad shoulders. Saturday morning cartoons blared on the television while he lounged beside her on the couch. But neither one was watching Bugs Bunny’s antics.
She let Kaevin turn her left arm over to expose the soft underside, his finger tracing a gentle path around the dimpled edge of the grafted skin. The specialist had pronounced the skin grafts completely healed, with no further chance of infection. True, the burns were covered, and the scars weren’t painful. But as the remembered horror of their torture at Vindrake’s hand swept through her mind yet again, she knew with certainty a part of her had not healed. Perhaps it never would.
At Kaevin’s feathery touch on her skin she shivered, and he pulled away, his brows furrowed.
“I’m sorry, Alora. Did I hurt you?”
“No, it doesn’t hurt at all. It just tickled a little bit.”
“You’re sure? You know I never wish you to experience pain again. Not if I can prevent it.” His fingers probed tentatively. “The color is almost normal, but I fear it will always show. The scarring...” His voice cracked as he looked away, but his hand covered her arm, like he was attempting to hide the past.
Swallowing a sigh, Alora mentally pulled at the edges of her tattered emotional shield. Kaevin’s concern was sweet and touching, but his guilt was overwhelming. Since discovering her gift of empathy, Alora had worked hard to control her power. But as Kaevin’s soulmate, her close connection to him made her particularly vulnerable to his feelings. And keeping their emotions separate was a constant struggle.
I don’t know why they call this empathy a “gift.” It’s more like a burden. I’ve got to find some way to make him stop feeling remorse. I can’t stand it.
“Kaevin, don’t.”
His hand flinched back. “I hurt you?”
“My arms don’t hurt any more, but your guilt is killing me.”
His face paled. “I’m sorry.”
“No, that’s worse! Now you’re feeling guilty for feeling guilty. You know I have a hard time blocking you.” Alora rubbed her aching temples. “I always heard boys weren’t supposed to be as emotional as girls, but that’s just a flat-out lie.”
“I can’t help what I feel.”
Frustration swirled in with his guilt, barraging her feeble emotive guard, like a hurricane beating against a tarp.
“I hated being so helpless... not being able to protect you. It was my right to fight and die for you, but Vindrake stripped it away.”
“Kaevin...” She tried to think of something comforting to say, but nothing came to mind.
“He tortured you, knowing I shared your pain. He humiliated me as he burned you,” Kaevin continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “What kind of man would do that to his own daughter? He has no honor.”
“Of course he has no honor, but what’s done is done. We can’t do anything about what happened.”
“One thing remains within my grasp—to kill him. It’s the only way I can truly protect you. I will do everything in my power to ensure Vindrake never has such an opportunity again. To destroy that monster is my only recourse. My only choice.”
With his determined words came another torrent of distress and fury. Alora remembered her grandmother’s most recent advice. Perhaps it would be easier to overwhelm one feeling with another than to simply wall out an emotion.
“Kaevin, will you kiss me?”
“Kiss you?”
A warm feeling swirled in her belly as his brows lifted, widening the deep emerald pools of his eyes. How she longed to swim in their depths! She swallowed hard, managing to answer with a nod.
“Why do you ask? Is your head hurting? The soulmate bond?” Again his brows knit with concern.
“Wow... you sure know how to make a girl feel special. You only want to kiss me if absolutely necessary?” she teased. “Only if my head
is hurting and the soulmate bond is depleted?”
“No, not at all.” As his eyes crinkled in the corners, he displayed even white teeth in a cheeky grin. “I’m happy to oblige, any time you like.”
He glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen where Uncle Charles was puttering about. Although her uncle no longer complained when Alora and Kaevin kissed, the couple tried to avoid doing it in his presence. Even without her gift of empathy, Alora knew it made him uncomfortable. Anyone could tell by the constipated grimace on his face.
Kaevin turned toward her, lifting his hands to cup her face in his palms. The kiss was sweet and lingering, tasting of mint. He loved toothpaste, declaring it one of the best inventions in Montana, and would brush his teeth ten times a day if he had the opportunity.
With the touch of his lips he sent a surge of love. Not a shallow magnetic attraction, but a deep, self-sacrificing devotion. She opened her shield and drank it in, relishing the waves of velvety affection. This part of having a soulmate was pretty awesome. On the other hand, the part where you die after a few days without contact and one can’t live if the other dies... that wasn’t quite so great.
The frustration and guilt didn’t disappear as much as cower inside, a hidden gremlin, poised to jump out again at the first opportunity. She would have to stay on guard.
“Hmmm,” she murmured as he withdrew his lips. “It seems kissing cures a lot of ills.”
“Even better than your magick circles,” he remarked, one side of his mouth quirking up in a crooked smile. “And a great deal more enjoyable.”
“Those pills are called ibuprofen, and you know it. Why do you insist on using the wrong words for things?”
“Because i-bu-pro-fen, is a nonsensical word. It has no meaning. Magick circle is better.”
“Still, you ought to learn our words.”
“Yes, you should.” Jireo’s muffled voice came from behind the couch, startling Alora so that she cried out. He continued, “Like me, Kaevin must practice new words forthwith.”
“Cripes!” Alora crawled up on her knees to peer over the back of the couch, where Kaevin’s meddling best friend lay on his back, his sandy-blond head pillowed on his clasped hands and a smug expression on his face. “Jireo, what are you doing down there, you little sneak?”
Beside her, Kaevin looked down at Jireo and chuckled, not the least bit embarrassed to discover their meeting hadn’t been private.
“I was here before you came in the room. It’s not my fault you failed in your reconnaissance,” Jireo said. “It was you who disturbed my nap with your cloying prolix and gauche kissing. I shouldn’t be surprised, as you are known osculators.”
“What’s an osculator?” Alora demanded.
“One who kisses,” Jireo replied, waggling his eyebrows.
“Cloying? Gauche? Where are you getting these words from, Jireo?”
“From Wesley. He has been teaching a new word each day, while we practice our archery together.”
Alora made a mental note to give Wesley a piece of her mind. Jireo seemed to gain immense satisfaction from annoying her at every opportunity with an endless personal arsenal. Now Wesley had managed to add even more ammunition to his stash.
“Yes,” Kaevin added. “Wesley reads the words from his magick talker.”
“Kaevin, you know it’s called a cell phone.” Alora frowned, but his answering grin was unrepentant. “I bet Wesley’s using some kind of learn-a-new-word app on his phone.”
“Alora, you are quite perspicacious,” Jireo replied, pinching his nose closed.
“I have antiperspirant on,” she objected.
Jireo sputtered laughter. “That word means wise. And you should make up your mind, Alora... you become enraged whether we speak as simpletons or with sesquipedalian elocution.”
With Kaevin’s infectious laugh, Alora felt her anger evaporate.
“How long did you practice these phrases, Jireo?” asked Kaevin.
“Only four fingers or so,” he explained, using their time measure for an hour. “But the return was well worth the effort. Your soulmate is so easy to tease. It’s almost as enjoyable as tormenting Arista.”
“I feel sorry for your sister. Growing up with you must’ve been like torture.” Alora spouted, thought she had to stifle a grin, unable to combat the cheerful vibes in the room.
The delicious smell of fresh baked cinnamon rolls wafted into the room, eliciting a growl in her stomach, as Uncle Charles leaned into the room. “Where’s Markaeus?”
“I don’t know,” Alora answered. “He’s usually dancing by the oven door on Saturday mornings. Cinnamon rolls are his favorite.”
“Ha!” Charles laughed. “Everything sweet is his favorite. That kid would probably eat a horse if you put frosting on it.”
It was true. Since Uncle Charles had brought the nine-year-old to Montana, he’d eaten everything in sight, but he had a penchant for sweets. He adjusted well to his new environment, although he was riddled with guilt. Having seen his brother die in battle following their desperate escape from Water Clan and knowing his grandfather was still suffering under Vindrake’s bloodhound control, Markaeus felt he didn’t deserve happiness.
Around Uncle Charles or the boys, Markaeus always put up a tough exterior, but he often let his barrier slip when he was with Alora. Gradually sharing his sad life’s story—growing up with only his grandfather to care for him—he seemed hungry for a mother’s love. Many a night Alora had held the gangly boy in her lap, rocking and soothing him to sleep.
But his antics during the day drove her crazy. “Your name is Trouble with a capital T,” she told him, almost daily. Yet he tried his best to please, especially seeking Uncle Charles’ approval. He even asked to have his hair cut short, like her uncle’s, and he looked cute with the stylish cut. So cute, it was hard to be mad at him, no matter what he did.
“I’ll retrieve him,” Kaevin offered, stretching his long muscular arms over his head as he rose from the couch. “He’s probably still asleep. He stayed up late last night watching a story on the magick box.”
As Alora opened her mouth to protest, he winked. “I know... it’s a TV.”
He disappeared down the hallway as Jireo stood, sauntering around the couch to offer his hand to Alora. “Forgive me for teasing you?”
“You’re forgiven,” she said, allowing him to pull her to her feet. But as he made to withdraw his hand, she clamped her fingers tight, and gave him a glee-filled promise. “But I won’t forget. We have a saying around here... about payback.”
“You must be nice to me, or there might not be any more secret archery and knife-fighting lessons,” he quipped, apparently undeterred by her threat.
“Quiet!” Alora checked the hallway to be certain Kaevin hadn’t overheard. “I wouldn’t need secret lessons if Kaevin would listen to reason. How is it you see the value in me learning how to use weapons, and he doesn’t?” After enduring intense torture at her father’s hand, Alora was determined never to be helpless again. “Doesn’t he realize I can’t always depend on my gift to save me? Of all people, it seems like Kaevin would be on my side.”
Before Jireo could respond, Kaevin trotted back. “Markaeus isn’t in his room. I’ve looked everywhere—in all his favorite hiding places—and no trace of him.”
“That little trickster,” Alora huffed. “He loves making me do this. But I can’t believe he’d delay eating breakfast to play his little game.” Acting on automatic pilot, Alora called on the transport power of her wander-jewel to bring her delinquent sort-of-foster-brother to her.
Nothing happened.
“What the heck?” she mumbled. Scrunching her face in concentration, she tried again. No Markaeus.
“Alora?” Kaevin moved to take her hand, his concern outlined by the furrows on his brow. “Is your gift depleted? Do you feel weak?”
“I don’t know. Let me try sending one of you somewhere.” What could this mean? Is my gift losing its power? Some of the Stone Cl
an council objected to their prolonged stay in Montana, suggesting her powers might wane in another realm.
Jireo took a step back. “No thank you. I haven’t forgotten my landing the last time you sent me away from you.”
It was true Jireo had been limping after Alora had transported him away during a battle at Laegenshire several months prior, but his reaction still stung her pride. “I’ve improved a lot since then.”
“We can easily test your gift,” said Kaevin, stepping to the kitchen door. “Alora, transport me to you.”
In a blink he stood beside her. Only then did a cold dread settle in her stomach. Again, she attempted to fetch Markaeus, as she had done every time before when Markaeus had proven his hiding skills. “Does this mean Markaeus is dead?”
“Dead?” Uncle Charles’ voice startled her. “What are you talking about?”
“We can’t find Markaeus, and Alora can’t transport him here,” Kaevin explained.
“Oh.” Charles’ bent brows relaxed. “He’s probably found an old chain in the barn and tied it around his waist. The only thing that boy likes more than eating is winning.”
“Fine. If he won’t come to me, I’ll go to him. That little squirt can’t hide from me. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Just as she transported to Markaeus, she heard Kaevin’s frantic words, “Alora! Wait!”
If only his warning had come a moment earlier.
**************
Kaevin paced in front of the couch where Uncle Charles slumped, seemingly relaxed and unworried. But something made Kaevin’s heart race, some unrelenting voice in the back of his mind that seemed to chant, “Danger!” It must be my imagination. Alora is fine.
Jireo had rushed outside to check the barn since that seemed to be Markaeus’ most likely hiding place.
“Why does she act without thinking?” Kaevin complained. “I asked her never to transport without me.”
“She got that from her Aunt Lena, not from me,” Charles replied with a wry grin. “She’s bound to come right back with Markaeus. Even if he were in the middle of the lake, Alora could bring them both directly back. She never messes up on that type of transport now.”
