Vindrake stuck his head through the open door, the shock of cold a blessing against his clammy skin. He scoured the snow-covered landscape, spying a strange steaming pool of water, but no sign of other humans close by. Stepping outside, he ignored Ferrister who was struggling to stand up. He moved to the edge of the steaming pool of water, examining the colorful deposits decorating its floor.
A loud gust sounded as water spouted into the air, as high as three men. Ferrister cried out, losing his balance and falling back to the ground. The tower of water
stood for more than twenty breaths, until Vindrake tired of counting.
When the water collapsed, Vindrake walked around the pool to the opposite side where the water tower had formed. Could this be a display of power by a shaman from this realm? He twisted his head around, wary of possible attack. But no sound emerged from the countryside blanketed in snow, save the periodic pulsing of steam from strange vented slots in the ground near the pool.
Vindrake ordered the floundering Ferrister to wait for him outside the portal while he explored. Starting toward what appeared to be a path between the trees, he found walking in the snow difficult, sinking to his knee with every footstep. Vindrake shivered from the cold, compounded by his wet pants, yet he forged ahead. Emerging from the trees into another clearing, he found the velvety snow in pristine condition, no footprints marring its surface as far as he could see. Neither could he see any sign of settlement, even to the far horizon.
Disappointed, he returned to find Ferrister huddled at the water’s edge, taking advantage of the heat radiating from the steamy pool. Perhaps he’s not as daft as he appears.
“I’ve seen enough for now. Let us be off.” Vindrake pondered his observations as he followed Ferrister on the return trip, which seemed to take longer than their earlier travel. Ferrister established a quick rhythm, wheezing with every step, but Vindrake concentrated on his ruminations until the noise was barely noticeable. Nor did the ceiling seem low or the passage narrow. By the time they reached the portal opening at the bathing pool, Vindrake had a plan.
*****
Daegreth knew the moment it happened. Perhaps it was the shock of Vindrake’s dark presence in his mind after such a long absence. Or perhaps it was the devastating loss of hope after learning he had a new family. But either way, his stomach rebelled. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he battled against waves of nausea. When he finally turned his head to vomit, he found Karen beside him, cutting off the zip ties binding him to the wooden chair.
No, no, no, no! Don’t cut the bindings! He caught Brian’s gaze and attempted to send a message through his eyes. Don’t release me! Don’t do it! Pay attention. Point that weapon toward me.
“If we’d known you were sick, we wouldn’t have kept you tied up like this. Do you want to go use the bathroom and then go lie down in your bedroom?” Daegreth blinked back tears at her kind tone, all too aware she was releasing him to perform a great violence. He would kill Alora or Kaevin first, and anyone who tried to stop him.
“Yes, please.” He ground out the words. God, help me! How can I warn them? What can I say? Only one chance.
“I freely and gladly serve my master, Vindrake.”
*****
“Wait, Karen!” Alora shouted, and Karen froze with the scissors poised inches over Daegreth’s wrist. In the dead silence, all eyes turned to Alora. Her heart raced. Am I imagining things? “Did you hear what Daegreth said? He said, ‘I freely and gladly serve my master, Vindrake.’”
“I don’t understand.” Karen hesitated a moment too long.
Daegreth’s hand shot up, snatching the scissors from her fingers, opening the blades to slice at the remaining zip tie, recklessly ripping his skin in the process. With both hands and wrists free, he stood, his eyes locked with Alora’s. He moved toward her, but Brian stepped in his way.
“Stop, Daegreth. I don’t want to have to shoot you.” The pistol wobbled in Brian’s grip, but he aimed it directly at Daegreth’s chest.
Daegreth’s hand moved so quickly, it was a blur. Brian cried out. The gun clattered to the floor. Clutching at the scissors protruding from his chest, Brian crumpled.
Karen’s scream filled the room as Alora took another step back. Wesley flew at Daegreth from the side, but Daegreth grabbed him by the front of his shirt and tossed him against the wall like a rag doll. He impacted with a thud and slid to the floor.
Graely called out, “Alora! Take Kaevin and go!”
I can’t abandon everyone while Daegreth’s going berserk. He might kill everybody.
Daegreth took another step toward her, his movements smooth and confident, but his expression filled with misery. He ducked to the left. Something flew past his head. Again, he bobbed. And again he flinched to the side. Something flashed in the air. Alora saw Charles pass a ceramic knife to Graely, who threw without hesitation. Daegreth dodged again, his gifted reflexes too fast to overcome.
With Daegreth’s attention riveted on Graely, Kaevin hurtled at him from behind. Daegreth fell forward. He rolled, throwing Kaevin over his back. Daegreth arose in a crouch. He launched himself at Kaevin, who was still struggling to his feet.
As Daegreth descended over Kaevin, Alora transported Kaevin onto the couch. A heavy clunk. Daegreth hit the floor empty-handed. Unfazed, he bounced up. His legs coiled. His gaze fixed on Alora.
A flash. A cry. Daegreth’s hand rose to his bicep where a knife was imbedded, only the hilt exposed. He grasped the handle and yanked the blade free. Blood spread on his shirtsleeve, but he ignored it. Daegreth lifted the blade in his right hand. Again his gaze fixed on Alora. One stride. Two. Closer. Closer.
“No!” Kaevin screamed as he attacked again, this time hefting a cushion from the couch.
Daegreth pivoted toward Kaevin. His knife slashed down. Kaevin thrust the cushion like a shield, and the knife imbedded into the padding. Struggling to free his blade, Daegreth pulled his arm back. Kaevin used the momentum to push him a few steps away from Alora.
Alora saw Graely circling the room, nearing the thrown blades. Uncle Charles moved with stealthy steps from the rear, a knife in his hand. Whipping the cushion out of Kaevin’s hands, Daegreth whirled, landing a roundhouse kick in his ribs that sent him flying. Then Daegreth ran at Charles, holding the cushion in his outstretched hands like a ram. The impact forced Charles to stumble backwards. With a crunch of splintering wood and breaking glass, Charles crashed into the china cabinet. Before his limp body hit the floor, Daegreth jerked the blade free from the cushion and turned.
Daegreth rushed at Kaevin, who was pushing up from the floor with a hand on his ribs. Daegreth jabbed the blade at Kaevin’s neck. Kaevin parried the blow and swept his foot out, taking Daegreth’s legs from underneath him. Too late, Alora remembered her defense tactic against the wendts, for now Daegreth had fallen across Kaevin’s feet. She waited for an opportunity to transport Daegreth away. Somewhere. Anywhere. A moment when the two were out of contact. But Daegreth rolled up on his knees and snatched a handful of Kaevin’s hair. With a vicious tug, he bent Kaevin’s head back and lifted the blade to slash his exposed throat.