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“We believe the Montana healer is unaffected by the Craedenza magick because he comes from the other realm,” Thalaena explained to the small, smoke-smudged group of Glaenshire citizens, of which Meravelle was a part.
“Bastaeno is our true leader,” said a thin-lipped woman as she rubbed her eyes. “I, for one, have no experience making decisions such as this. And I need to see after my children. We should ask Bastaeno what to do.”
Meravelle answered, her voice strained. “I fear we won’t have that opportunity again, Estaella. For Doc tells me my grandfather has lost much blood. He doesn’t expect he will survive until the morrow.”
“I’m so sorry, Mera.” Estaella reached over to hold her hand. “He has given much to Glaenshire.”
“Then you would be the next in line to become head archivist, Meravelle,” said a man with brown thinning hair, as Estaella nodded eager agreement. “No one will argue with your recommendations.”
“I don’t even have thirty years,” Meravelle argued. “I’m not ready to be head archivist. Amanias, did you not tell me last seven-day you were ready to take the oath?”
The thick-necked man with an unkempt beard stood abruptly, raising his hands as his eyes darted from one person to another. “I can’t. I’m a man of peace. I never thought an archivist would be called upon to fight in a battle.”
With his back to the group, Alleraen fumed silently. How could this sniveling man not find the courage to defend his people in the face of adversity? Meravelle had no warrior gifts, yet she’d walked straight into Vindrake’s camp to confront him. Alleraen considered knocking some sense into the cowardly man’s head with the butt of his sword, but Thalaena handled the situation with aplomb.
Rising to her feet to block his way as he attempted to back out of the circle of chairs, Thalaena said, “No one is asking you to make this decision now, Amanias. We simply need guidance concerning our actions with Vindrake. At the moment, Meravelle has agreed to his terms concerning the scroll in exchange for Alora’s release. But we have no guarantee he won’t attack Glaenshire again after he acquires the scroll he seeks.”
Alleraen couldn’t hold his tongue. Whirling around, he stomped his way to the small circle. “You can’t possibly believe Vindrake will abide by his promise to release Alora. He’s a vile snake whose word is as worthless as a boat with no bottom.”
“Alleraen, this is not your concern,” Thalaena stood to face him, glaring almost eye to eye.
“Brightness! It is my concern. Alora’s my niece. Drakeon’s my brother.”
“You came here under my command—”
“And I fought this battle and obeyed your command. But that battle is over now. This concerns my family.”
“I command the Stone Clan troops who are protecting Glaenshire and the Craedenza. I’m also charged with the protection of my clan leader, and currently that man is Kaevin BarGraely. Further, I must protect Alora in order to protect Kaevin. So all of these lives are my responsibility.”
“Then do what you must, and I will do what I must.”
“You cannot confront Vindrake of your own accord, Alleraen. I forbid it.”
“Were we in battle, I would obey you, Thalaena, for you’ve earned my respect as weapons master. But the battle is over, and I’m not yet a Stone Clan citizen.”
“Nor will you ever be if you disobey my command.”
The stare-down continued, with both breathing as heavily as when they’d carried bucket after bucket of water to douse the fires throughout the night. In fact, Alleraen was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, even in his current state of rage.
He jumped at a tap on his elbow and looked down at a pair of gray eyes wide with excitement.
“Did I hear you say you are Alora’s uncle?” Meravelle asked. “And Vindrake’s brother, as well?”
“I am.” He faced Mera, glad to be free of Thalaena’s icy glare. “Though I’m proud to claim the first and ashamed to admit the second.”
Meravelle whipped around to address the other three. “If none of you wishes to aid in making decisions, your help is no longer required.”
“Thank you, Mera.” Estaella gave her a hug before shuffling away, obviously exhausted. The other two exited without even making eye contact.
When the three were alone, Mera sank back into a chair, motioning for the others to do the same.
“Thalaena, we have a plan in place. We hope to rescue Alora and defeat Vindrake. But if we fail, I give you the authority to do whatever is needed to defend Glaenshire and the Craedenza.”
“And the scroll?” Thalaena asked. “Do you intend to return it to Vindrake?”
“Unless we’re able to kill him during Alora’s rescue, we must return the scroll. For Vindrake will not stop until he has it in his possession.”
“The Maladorn Scroll is to blame for all this evil. Had my brother never laid eyes upon that scroll, we wouldn’t be here, fighting this battle. How I hate for the scroll to fall again into his grasp!” Alleraen dropped his face into his hands.
