Page 8 of Alora: The Maladorn Scroll (Alora 3)

Her father’s deep voice, coated in thick, velvety evil, slid into Alora’s consciousness like a searing razor, red-hot pain shooting throughout her body. She didn’t have to look to know he was standing in the doorway with a Satanic smile on his face.

“Alora,” Kaevin murmured, reaching for her while holding the still-protesting Markaeus with one arm.

Memories. Terror. Hopelessness.

Swimming through the fog in her brain, thick as mud, Alora tried to find a way to shore. She felt a pressure on her arm and attempted to shake it off.

“Alora...” In her ear, Kaevin’s voice parted the dark clouds in her mind. “Take us home.”

Home. Yes.

She transported.

It worked.

“Thank God, you’re back!” Uncle Charles wrapped his long lanky arms around them, squeezing them together until she could hardly breathe. But even when he let go, her lungs constricted and her head pounded in a familiar ache.

There was no air in the room.

Slumping into a lump on the floor, Markaeus sobbed. “Grandfather... Grandfather...”

But Alora could only cling to Kaevin, while the room spun in circles.

Abruptly, he gripped her arm tight, pushing her back and yelling at her with wide eyes, while clutching his forehead with the other hand.

Shaking her throbbing head to clear it, she tried to make sense of his words. Something about finding Jireo.

Is he hiding? Stupid time to play hide and seek. Too tired to transport him. But that’s what Kaevin wants.

She slumped to her knees, pulling Kaevin down with her.

So weak. Need power to move Jireo.

A small power pool presented itself. Would it be enough?

Reaching out to call Jireo to her, she tapped the tiny source. Deep green eyes, framed by sandy-blond hair, stared up from a prone position on the floor. Is he really here or do I see him in my mind?

The room darkened. Narrowed. The wood floor rushed to crash into her face.

~3~

“Alora, I know you’re awake. Open your eyes.”

Warm lips touched hers, a gentle caress. Something soft cushioned the side of her face, and she recognized the sweet scent of fabric softener on her freshly-washed pillowcase. Blinking her scratchy eyes, she squinted into the depths of Kaevin’s emerald green lakes, a few inches away.

“Hi,” she croaked from her parched mouth, hoping he was far enough away not to notice if her breath was bad.

Flashing a crooked smile embellished with a carved dimple, he straightened, tucking his wavy brown locks behind an ear. “You’ve been asleep for a while. Jireo said I woke up after a finger or two.”

Still groggy, she wondered at the meaning of his statement and his shirtless state, though she enjoyed the view of his smooth muscular chest. Then something caught her eye. A bandage across his stomach. What happened?

Everything came back to her at once. The events of the morning. The guards. The battle. Her father. Pervasive evil.

With blood pounding in her ears, no more words penetrated her hearing. Kaevin’s hand squeezed hers. His mouth moved as he yelled something. Her uncle burst into the room. More yelling.

Kaevin dropped to his knees beside the bed, still holding her hand. Her eyelids closed, trying to shut out the violent images in her brain. A distant voice echoed in her head. Kaevin. She tried to focus on his words.

“Alora. Draw your power from water,” he croaked.