funny, Grandmother. Our heads were hurting, but the pain disappeared when we went to Laegenshire.”
“Good.” Uncle Charles’ voice was sullen. “You don’t need to do any more kissing, then.”
She saw Kaevin biting back a grin. Uncle Charles’ objection to their kissing was a daily occurrence, though he recognized the occasional necessity.
Ignoring her uncle’s jibe, she asked, “Where should I take us? I don’t guess we want to go right back to that roof-top.”
All humor left Kaevin’s face as he replied, “We should transport Raelene and your uncle to the healing house. Then we will return to battle the wendts.”
She shuddered. What had the wendt done after she and Kaevin had transported to Montana? Had he killed another warrior? Were Jireo and Wesley in danger from the monster now?
“I know what I have to do. I promise I won’t freak out this time.”
“I believe in you.” Kaevin squeezed her hand. “Take us to Laethan.”
*****
Vindrake stumbled backward as the wendt crumpled on the ground at his feet. He prodded the creature with one foot, observing the awkward position and motionless state. It must have broken its neck on impact. Shouting ensued among his startled guards, but Vindrake ignored them, pondering the dead monster. It had appeared out of nowhere.
A wendt could never fly back against the imbedded compulsion; the mindless creature could only attack the Stone Clan warriors until it was killed. How did it return? There is only one way the wendt could come here—Alora must have sent it. Alora and Kaevin are back in this realm.
Vindrake couldn’t suppress a giddy smile. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Thankfully, he hadn’t remained behind at Portshire in Water Clan. He could remain a safe distance away from Laegenshire, surrounded by his guards, and still make use of the poison blade.
Briskly rubbing his hands together, he addressed the guard. “Prepare to move further up the road, closer to Laegenshire.”
*****
Upon arriving at the healing house, Kaevin urged Alora to transport them back to the roof. She was still trembling as they landed. He’d been as frightened as she was, but he couldn’t let her know. He felt frustrated and powerless, unable even to see the attacking monsters. He was supposed to be the strong one. The fighter. The protector.
It was ridiculous —a future Stone Clan chief cowering behind Alora’s slim frame. If he got the opportunity, he’d replace his puny ceramic knife with a long blade. He had to restore his pride. He needed to feel useful as more than simply a companion to Alora.
“I don’t see the wendt,” Alora said. “In fact, I don’t see anyone. You don’t think it killed everyone while we were gone, do you?” Her voice quavered along with the rest of her.
“We weren’t gone that long. Likely, the wendt struck again, and the warriors fled the area. Take us to Wesley. Perhaps he’s spotted the creature somewhere.”
“Okay… I hate to ask, but could you kiss me?”
At her words he became aware of an insistent throbbing in his head. “I’m sorry—my head hurts, too. I’m afraid I’ve become accustomed to ignoring the pain.” He bent to touch his lips to hers and felt the aching dissipate like water pouring from a bucket. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the softness of her responsive lips.
“Eh-hem! We don’t really have time for that.” Jireo’s elbow dug into Kaevin’s ribs.
Kaevin saw they’d arrived on an elevated archer’s platform occupied by a group of Stone Clan bowmen, several of whom were chuckling at Jireo’s quip. The huge logs supported the stand at a height of at least three arm spans, and sported a protective wall with open slots to aim and shoot through.
Wesley lifted his chin to acknowledge their presence but kept his eyes peeled to the skies. He looked out of place in his American garb. Kaevin realized he was wearing the same type of thing, jeans and
“Good.” Uncle Charles’ voice was sullen. “You don’t need to do any more kissing, then.”
She saw Kaevin biting back a grin. Uncle Charles’ objection to their kissing was a daily occurrence, though he recognized the occasional necessity.
Ignoring her uncle’s jibe, she asked, “Where should I take us? I don’t guess we want to go right back to that roof-top.”
All humor left Kaevin’s face as he replied, “We should transport Raelene and your uncle to the healing house. Then we will return to battle the wendts.”
She shuddered. What had the wendt done after she and Kaevin had transported to Montana? Had he killed another warrior? Were Jireo and Wesley in danger from the monster now?
“I know what I have to do. I promise I won’t freak out this time.”
“I believe in you.” Kaevin squeezed her hand. “Take us to Laethan.”
*****
Vindrake stumbled backward as the wendt crumpled on the ground at his feet. He prodded the creature with one foot, observing the awkward position and motionless state. It must have broken its neck on impact. Shouting ensued among his startled guards, but Vindrake ignored them, pondering the dead monster. It had appeared out of nowhere.
A wendt could never fly back against the imbedded compulsion; the mindless creature could only attack the Stone Clan warriors until it was killed. How did it return? There is only one way the wendt could come here—Alora must have sent it. Alora and Kaevin are back in this realm.
Vindrake couldn’t suppress a giddy smile. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Thankfully, he hadn’t remained behind at Portshire in Water Clan. He could remain a safe distance away from Laegenshire, surrounded by his guards, and still make use of the poison blade.
Briskly rubbing his hands together, he addressed the guard. “Prepare to move further up the road, closer to Laegenshire.”
*****
Upon arriving at the healing house, Kaevin urged Alora to transport them back to the roof. She was still trembling as they landed. He’d been as frightened as she was, but he couldn’t let her know. He felt frustrated and powerless, unable even to see the attacking monsters. He was supposed to be the strong one. The fighter. The protector.
It was ridiculous —a future Stone Clan chief cowering behind Alora’s slim frame. If he got the opportunity, he’d replace his puny ceramic knife with a long blade. He had to restore his pride. He needed to feel useful as more than simply a companion to Alora.
“I don’t see the wendt,” Alora said. “In fact, I don’t see anyone. You don’t think it killed everyone while we were gone, do you?” Her voice quavered along with the rest of her.
“We weren’t gone that long. Likely, the wendt struck again, and the warriors fled the area. Take us to Wesley. Perhaps he’s spotted the creature somewhere.”
“Okay… I hate to ask, but could you kiss me?”
At her words he became aware of an insistent throbbing in his head. “I’m sorry—my head hurts, too. I’m afraid I’ve become accustomed to ignoring the pain.” He bent to touch his lips to hers and felt the aching dissipate like water pouring from a bucket. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the softness of her responsive lips.
“Eh-hem! We don’t really have time for that.” Jireo’s elbow dug into Kaevin’s ribs.
Kaevin saw they’d arrived on an elevated archer’s platform occupied by a group of Stone Clan bowmen, several of whom were chuckling at Jireo’s quip. The huge logs supported the stand at a height of at least three arm spans, and sported a protective wall with open slots to aim and shoot through.
Wesley lifted his chin to acknowledge their presence but kept his eyes peeled to the skies. He looked out of place in his American garb. Kaevin realized he was wearing the same type of thing, jeans and
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