Theran's mocking smile faltered then fell into a frown as he lowered his arms to his sides and stared with bewilderment at Honroth. His gaze shifted back to Vixen and the thieves, who hung back away from the royal brothers. Then he looked back at Honroth—puzzlement swirling in his eyes. “Why?”
Shaking his head, Honroth strolled up to Theran and placed a hand on his shoulder. He met his gaze. “We have already lost one brother. And at times I feel as though I have lost you as well. Only Heldon remains steadfast and loyal.” He looked over his shoulder to his twin, who lingered close enough to intervene if necessary but far enough away to give his older brothers space.
Then Honroth turned his gaze back upon Theran. “Heldon believes in you—he always has. I used to reprimand him for believing that you would ever come to your senses.” Carefully now, Honroth lifted his hand from his brother's shoulder and nodded. “But I realize now I was the fool. You only seek to learn the truth behind all the horrible accusations pointed at Lorrek. As king of Cuskelom, I cannot afford the time for such investigations. However, you—in your freedom from royal duties—have that luxury.” He gestured at the handblade on Theran's wrist. “And you will need that to speed along your travels. I simply wish you had come to me first.”
Theran reached over to his wrist to rub the bracelet. He furrowed his brows. “But why did you come here? To observe?”
Honroth shrugged and turned to leave, but he halted and glanced back. “Because...I had hoped to see you again for myself.” He opened his mouth to continue but hesitated and lowered his gaze with a sigh. Lifting his eyes once more, he pressed his lips into a thin line then offered him a small smile. “I suppose I miss having an older brother at times.” With that, he reached over to his own handblade on his wrist and vanished from the woods in a gust of wind.
Heldon locked eyes with his eldest brother but found he had nothing to say. Thinning his lips, he nodded—to Theran and to Vixen—then disappeared as well by means of his handblade.
The thieves watched the king and prince of Cuskelom leave, and then Aradin raised his brows as he looked back at Theran. “I suppose they won't arrest us then?”
Shaking his head, Theran lifted his hand to inspect the bracelet on his wrist. He muttered something and glanced over to Aradin with a smirk. “Not yet, at least.” Unclamping the bracelet from his wrist, he motioned for all of them to follow.
Walking past Vixen, he seized her wrist so abruptly she almost stabbed him with a blade instinctively. Yet just as quickly, he released her hand then grinned, and she noticed the handblade bracelet now on her wrist.
Her mouth shifted to find words, but finally she dropped her hand and scowled at Theran. “What are you thinking? I don't wear jewelry!” She began claw at the metal to find a seam and pry it off, yet her fingers found no seam. Thrusting her hand toward Theran, she narrowed her eyes. “Get it off this instant before I decide to stab you!”
He grinned at her but stepped back with a shake of his head. “You might not wear jewelry, Vix, but you do wear weapons.” He motioned to her vest of blades then nodded to the bracelet. “And that is a weapon. The moment the bracelet senses you are in danger, it will unsheathe into weapon form—a sword with a gauntlet covering your hand. Until then, it is our means of travel.”
Still glaring at him, she continued to try and pry it off her wrist—grinding her teeth. “But why can't you wear it? It's yours after all.”
Approaching her, he took her hand in his to stop her from tearing at the bracelet. He sighed. “I've already proven my...unworthiness to wear it. That bracelet means much to me, as does its history, and I respect it. That is why I have given it to you to wear. And don't bother trying to remove it. Only I know the spoken word that will remove it from your wrist. For now...” he released her hand and smiled at her glare. “You're stuck with it.”
“Why couldn't you have given it to me to wear?” Dustal poked his head around Theran's shoulder to get a better look at the bracelet on Vixen's wrist. “I'm responsible!”
Aradin folded his arms and stared unimpressed at his brother. “If Theran gave it to you, you would have killed yourself in an instant.” He looked at Theran. “Now what?”
The prince of Cuskelom smiled. “Now...” He motioned for them to grab each other’s hands. “We return to Athorim.”
Dustal raised his eyes heavenward with a heavy sigh. “Great—more teleportation. Three times in one day—” And they vanished.
6
Before he opened his eyes, Lorrek knew Mordora and Moren stood at the entrance of the ballroom watching him—waiting for a signal to approach. With a sigh, he drew himself out of the depths of magic and opened his eyes.
They stood before him—two silhouettes in the doorway.
He smiled and rose to his feet. “Come.” He gestured for them to draw near. They shared a hesitant look with each other but then approached him—Mordora always a guarded step in front of her little brother.
“What do you want from us?” She jutted her chin out at him.
Lorrek tsked his tongue as he shook his head. “Why must you always think I want something from you? I merely seek to offer you my assistance because without it your secret will be discovered, and you will suffer.” He met Mordora's stare. “But of course, if you don't trust me—if you don't believe me—I can always go about my way and tend to my own business.” He shifted to move past them.
“Wait, Sir.” Little Moren reached out to stop him but did not dare touch the powerful sorcerer. Lorrek's harsh stare caused Moren to swallow hard and step closer to his sister, but he did not lose his determination. “Sir, please? I...” He looked up at Mordora for reassurance and then glanced back to Lorrek. “I want to learn.”
“Do you?” Lorrek directed his question at Mordora as he shifted his gaze to her. “Do you really want to learn? Because once you begin—”
“I know, there's no turning back.”
Lorrek smirked. “I was going to say you will discover things about yourself and about others that you never knew, and you will be forced to take those secrets with you to the grave, but...'no turning back' works as well.”
Mordora scowled at him as she placed a firm hand on Moren's shoulder, ready to steer him out of the room if Lorrek proved too egotistical.
Lorrek got the warning and turned back to the ballroom. “Come. Let your journey begin.” With that, he motioned to the whole room, and a mighty gust rushed through the narrow windows, blowing away all the years of cobwebs and dust, and lit the torches and candles of the room. The cracks in the floor fused together beneath their feet, and music filled the air as women in ball gowns and smartly dressed men moved around them.
Mordora gasped as she that saw the room looked just as she remembered it from all those years ago when her mother was still alive. “Is this real?” She circled in place as she took in every detail—too perfect to be an illusion.
“As real as you can imagine.” A softness touched Lorrek's voice, and at the snap of his fingers, the three of them wore clothes fit for a royal ball.
“What is all this?” Moren stared in awe as the people passed him without seeing him.
“This is the first step to learn how to control your powers. Magic is not a foreign, mythical power. It resides in all of us, but it is only keenly familiar with a few of us. Magic is closely tied to your thoughts, your memories, and your mind. It speaks to you only if you listen, and the easiest way to learn to listen to it is through someone else's magic, and all of this is my magic.”
“None of this is real?” Mordora sounded disappointed as she meandered through the crowd. Every time she tried to look at the face of an individual, he or she turned from her, lowered their gazes, or were otherwise interrupted. “Why aren't they looking at me? Don't they see us?”
Lorrek shrugged. “You can change that.”
“How?”
“Focus. Imagine someone you want to see.”
As he was speaking, Mordora turned to one individual wh
o looked very much like her mother from behind—the same long locks of wavy dark hair, delicate features, mannerisms, and sweet laughter. Feeling eyes on her, the lady turned around, and Mordora gasped. “Mother?”
“Mama!” Moren raced up to her and hugged her waist before Mordora could form any words to stop him.
“Moren, my dear.” Their mother, Queen Annetta, laughed at her son's antics then saw the disbelief on her daughter's face. Annetta's brows furrowed. “What is it, Mordora? Come, give me a hug. You look troubled.” She reached a hand out to her to pull her in.
Mordora looked over her shoulder at Lorrek, who stood back observing the whole thing without a word. He caught her wordless questions, “Is this real?” and nodded at her, and relief rushed through Mordora as she turned back to her mother with tears in her eyes. “Mama!” She moved to embrace her.
Away from the crowd but able to see everyone and everything, Lorrek stood back, crossed his arms, and leaned against the pillar. He smiled when Moren grabbed his mother's hand and dragged her through the room, speaking excitedly. He pretended not to see Mordora wipe away a tear in passing as she moved to follow them to the balcony.
Lorrek let out a shaky breath and observed this illusion. Though Mordora and Moren didn't realize it, they were already using their magic. This part was instinctive—a combination of memories and dreams. When strong enough, it could be experienced and viewed by others.
The sound of a door creaking open caught Lorrek's attention, and he saw King Wordan entering the ballroom. He didn't look awed by the revived beauty of the room, and as he passed through the room to Lorrek, the illusion moved around him—revealing a tear between reality and fantasy. Wordan marched straight up to Lorrek with darkened eyes. “What are you doing here, Prince Lorrek? This place has been sealed off from the rest of the palace.”
Letting the illusion collapse around him, Lorrek sensed Mordora behind him open her mouth to answer her father, but he cast a wordless muting spell on her with a slight gesture of his palm—never once looking over his shoulder to see her. His eyes stayed on King Wordan. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but the quiet solitude of this place summoned me. I wished to gather my thoughts and know them well without interruption.” He bowed his head to show his sincerity.
King Wordan huffed but then looked around the room as if searching for someone. Finally, his eyes fell back upon the prince. “Have you seen Mordora or Moren? Neither appeared in today's council session, and we have a situation.”
“Perhaps Moren was unwell, and Mordora sought out a healer while you were preoccupied.”
Wordan frowned but then nodded. “Perhaps. The boy does fall ill often.” With that, he turned on his heel to leave yet paused and looked over his shoulder. “I know you have your secrets, Prince Lorrek, but you would do well to make sure none of your troubles disrupt the life of Nirrorm.”
“As you wish, Sire.” Lorrek bowed to him and watched him leave. Once Lorrek was certain the king was gone, he let the muting and cloaking spell fall to the ground.
“What just happened?” Mordora marched up to him with her hands clenched into fists. “What did you do to our father? Why didn't he see all that? Why didn't he see us?” Now that she realized it, she looked around and saw how the room had returned to its former darkened state it had been for the last few years. Beams of moonlight poured through the narrow windows.
With a sigh as if having awakened from a pleasant dream, she looked at her little brother. “Go—run after Papa and tell him all is well.”
“And tell him none of what you saw,” Lorrek added as the boy ran for the door. Along with the spoken words, Lorrek bound the words in Moren's mind, so he would never be able to speak of it to anyone. Satisfied with that, he pulled his attention back to Mordora and waited.
He didn't have to wait long.
“What was that?” Her voice rang through the ballroom, and Lorrek chuckled as he turned to face her. Her anger twisted her elegant features, and her green eyes flashed with rage. “What was that? Was it all an illusion?”
“Yes.” His simple but confident answer caused Mordora to falter and drop her hands as she stared at Lorrek with mouth slightly ajar. Lorrek smiled at her shock. “This is magic, Your Highness—the art of illusions.”
“Is that why Papa did not see us?” Mordora hugged her arms close to her as she tried to take in everything she had witnessed. It was one thing to see her dead mother again—and hug her—but to see her father walk into the room and not see anything—much less Moren or herself—was unnerving.
“I've had a cloak on this room the entire time. Besides...” Lorrek took a few paces around the room. “Do not forget what I told you before—only those with magic can see the illusions of magic.”
“I thought there was more to magic than intangible things. There is power! Healing. I've seen you fight. That is not all an illusion.”
“Aye.” Lorrek nodded as he approached her then took her hands in his. “But you must learn to listen to the magic inside you. Once you recognize the voice of magic and do not fear it, it becomes a part of your being, and therefore it will protect you. But you must first trust me.”
“Why?” She yanked her hands out of his and took a step back. “After what you did to Atheta, how do I know you won't do the same to me?”
Lorrek shook his head while trying not to let the mention of Atheta cut him to the soul. “You don't.” He turned away from her and let a small, cunning smile touch his lips. “That is the risk you run.”
She stared at him, aghast. How could the quiet, almost unseen boy—young Lorrek from their childhood—grow into such a devious, cold man? Still, she had heard too much of his tricks and schemes that left everyone else in pieces while he waltzed away laughing. She hadn't wanted to believe it, but after he cut her hair, she knew he took pleasure in others' pain. “You have no heart.” Her gaze flickered to him where he had meandered to a lone beam of moonlight. Again, she was struck how pale he looked in the milky blue light.
For a long moment he stared at the floor, as if weighing her words, but then he lifted his striking blue gaze to her. “So they say.”
He didn't defend himself or try to argue. Now that Mordora thought about it, she never saw him take such an action. One of his brothers would call him a fool, and he would accept it with a chuckle and slight smile—as if he knew something no one else knew. He did that a lot. In battle or in training, he rarely took the offensive but allowed other, more hotheaded individuals charge in, and he would deflect attacks until they were worn down before he struck.
Perhaps he was not the enemy—perhaps he was simply misunderstood, and no one would hear him out. “Lorrek?” Her soft voice drew his attention. “What happened to you?”
“What is it that they say?”
“That you are a madman. You...attacked Princess Atheta, then cast her into a different realm, and broke the path to her so no one—not even her father, brother, or sister—could ever retrieve her. Others say you even killed her.”
As she spoke, Lorrek's hands curled into fists at his sides, and he bowed his head low. When she finished speaking, he remained standing that way for a moment and then slowly lifted his gaze to her with a wolfish grin. “Well then, Princess Mordora, how you act upon that knowledge is your choice.” With that, he strode past her out of the room.
Her jaw dropped by his unrepentant behavior, but Mordora shut her mouth, clenched her fists, and spun after him. “I will tell your brothers you are alive!” She blurted out when she finally caught up with him.
“No—you won't.” Lorrek never broke stride as they walked through the darkened corridors toward the more active part of the palace.
Mordora furrowed her brows. “Yes, I will. How do you know that I won't?”
Taking a step in front of her, Lorrek swirled around to face her, grabbed her shoulders, and looked deeply into her eyes. “Because...” He weaved magic in his voice, binding her soul to his words. “You won't.”
Feeling t
he magic working, but unsure what was happening, she stepped back out of his grasp and glared at him. “What did you do?”
He smirked. “Now, when you feel the urge to divulge my secret, you won't be able to say a word of it.” He stepped out of her way and resumed his stroll down the corridor.
Mordora gawked at his departing form. “You can't do that!”
He lifted a hand, acknowledging her words, then turned to face her once more while continuing to walk backwards. “I just did.” A smirk brightened his features before he spun back around and went on his way.
Before Mordora could find the words to respond, a servant darted past the intimidating figure of Lorrek and went straight for the princess. “Your Highness, come quick! Countess Verddra has been kidnapped, and your father is preparing to send out troopers to look for her.”
Still stunned by Lorrek's spell and now this news, Mordora stared down the hall and found the boy's words had made Lorrek stop though he had not yet turned to face them. Realizing she was more familiar with the situation than he, Mordora forced a smile on her face, pulled back her shoulders, and brushed past Lorrek.
He fell into step with her. “What concern is Countess Verddra to Nirrorm?”
“Oh, you don't know?”
He grabbed her arm and swirled her around to face him—his bright blue eyes piercing through her resistance. “Tell me.”
She looked down at his fingers holding her arm then struggled against his grip, freeing herself without too much difficulty. “You would do well to remember that you are merely a guest here, Prince Lorrek. Threatening or intimidating your host is not recommended.”
He took another step toward her, but she stood her ground and looked up at him as his hard eyes stared down at her. “What concern is the countess to Nirrorm?”
Sensing that it would best to simply answer, Mordora swallowed then avoided his gaze and turned back around but walked at a slower pace. When he fell into step with her, she explained, “My father has been courting her and intends to marry her.”
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 6