Looking at it now, he realized it was a far stretching lowland between a hill and the forest. Once it had been part of the forest—Lorrek could still see broken tree stumps and leafless trees here and there like standing skeletons. Now it was a graveyard above ground with the people buried in the stone of their own skin—rows and rows and rows of people. Each one in a different stance—some kneeling and pleading, others in the midst of a fight or struggle, but a few stood still with their heads bowed in resignation. One, whom Lorrek passed, stood tall with shoulders pulled back, chin lifted high as any royal, and her gaze stared straight ahead at her fate, unafraid and completely at peace. No doubt this one had haunted Roskelem's dreams for many nights, and that had been her intention.
A footstep fell on the sandy ground of this graveyard, and Lorrek darted his gaze around but saw no one other than the statues. He listened closely and flexed his fingers—ready to conjure a fiery orb.
There—another step—calculated and careful.
And then another.
“Hello there!” A voice shouted right in Lorrek's ear from the absolute opposite direction Lorrek had expected.
With a startled shout, Lorrek twisted and moved to punch the man—only to watch his hand pass harmlessly through him.
The blondish-white haired individual smirked.
Lorrek frowned.
A sword came to rest against Lorrek's throat from behind, and Lorrek realized that there were two of them, and this individual was the one he had been expecting—though privately he wondered why he hadn't heard the first man. “No sudden movements,” a deep voice warned against Lorrek's ear. “We know you are magical.”
Lorrek lifted his hands to show he meant no harm.
“Now turn around—slowly.”
As Lorrek did, he noticed the blond man walk around him, so he was standing in front of him again by the time he had turned around completely, but Lorrek ignored him and fixed his eyes on the man who held his sword at his neck. His height was average, and his dark clothes concealed any indication of the condition of his body, but by the expert way he held his sword and the unflinching look in his eyes, Lorrek knew this man was a warrior. His long dark hair was brown rather than black, so Lorrek knew he was not a magic user, but he was unafraid of magic. His face—shadowed by his untamed hair and faint beard—spoke of a lifetime of hardships, and Lorrek could tell in his brown eyes that he was a silent one.
His less-than-solid companion was a different matter. Lorrek already knew by his blondish-white hair that he had been in Athorim at one time and used pure magic. His features were caught somewhere between agelessness and aged, and his entire presence reeked of a long, long lifetime—one that had seen the repetition of history time and again, and now he had to find humor in all things one way or another.
“Welcome to our humble abode.” The blond haired man motioned to their surroundings as a grin cut across his face. “We are Bodulf and Esdras. I am Bodulf, and he is Esdras. Please keep your hands to yourself and do not touch anything. If you break a statue you will pay—with your life.” He ended his speech with a low, dramatic voice and theatrical stare at Lorrek.
Lorrek furrowed his brows and then snuck Esdras a look. He could tell by the plain stare on his face that the man had lived a very long time with Bodulf as his constant companion, and he hated it, but he couldn't do anything about it.
“Now,” Bodulf regained Lorrek's attention. “Tell us who you are, and we might let you live—emphasis on might.”
At this, Lorrek smirked and lowered his guard. These men were no threat to him. “You may try to kill me, but you will fail.” He stared straight at Bodulf. “I noticed that someone has taken away your solid form, and I assume that individual might have been King Roskelem.” He lifted his brows but then stood steady as Bodulf growled and Esdras brought his sword back to Lorrek's throat. Lorrek raised his hands slightly to pacify the tension. “Not to worry, for he has done the same to me.”
Esdras frowned and poked Lorrek in the arm with his sword. He narrowed his eyes and observed, “But you are solid now.”
Lorrek shrugged nonchalantly. “A binding spell—one powerful enough to bind the cells of an individual back together, but only for the initial touch. If you press too hard...” He lifted his hand to the sword and pressed against the blade. At first it appeared his skin would break and bleed, but then his hand passed through it unharmed, and Lorrek held his hand out for them to inspect.
Bodulf stared wide-eyed. “What spell is this, and why have I never heard of it?!”
“Because I made it up, and it requires elements from different realms which are not found here.” Lorrek looked between Bodulf and Esdras. “I assume since you...” he motioned at Bodulf, “lack solid form that Roskelem still hasn't discovered the ability to kill with his magic?” He lifted his brows.
Esdras scowled, but stepped aside, and gestured to the statues as he sheathed his sword. “All those who offend him, he turns into stone since he has discovered he cannot kill.”
At the news that Roskelem's magic still forbade him to kill, a pleased smirk crept across Lorrek's face. “Good to know some things never change.” He fixed his eyes on the statues, and the smile fell from his face because he knew he might be staring at his own near fate. “I am certain my presence will be a displeasure to the king, but I must see him.” He shifted to move past these two men, but Esdras lifted a hand halting him.
“Who are you? You never said.”
Lorrek paused as he considered this moment. Here were two men he didn't know—a feat in and of itself. They didn't know his lineage, his powers, or his past with the royal family of Serhon. To them, he was neither guilty nor innocent, and it was refreshing, but he knew all that would be ruined as soon as he told them his name.
He stared at them but focused on Esdras. “You are the guardian of these statues, are you not?” When the man nodded slowly, Lorrek straightened his shoulders and looked him hard in the eye. “Stay at your station and be prepare for an addition to your charges. I go to meet with King Roskelem, and I don't expect to return.” He moved to step around Esdras, but the guardian stepped in front of him again.
When Lorrek glared at him, Esdras refused to back down, and he shook his head. “My apologies, my lord, but we cannot let you travel to the palace alone. We must escort you.”
“And what of your charges?” Lorrek motioned to the statues, hoping Esdras would be duty-bound, but Bodulf scoffed at this.
“They're not going anywhere. Besides...” He slipped around Lorrek with ghostly grace. “I'm more curious to see King Roskelem's reaction to you because I have the feeling that it will be very, very, very entertaining. Don't you agree, Esdras?”
Lorrek noticed how Esdras neither nodded nor frowned; he simply kept his gaze on Lorrek, awaiting any indication of agreement or resistance.
The sorcerer prince of Cuskelom sighed and lowered his posture from regal to humble acceptance. He nodded for the men to lead the way. “But beware,” he warned them as they started walking—Bodulf taking the lead through the maze of statues, and Esdras only a step behind Lorrek. “You will not like what you will see, and if you have any quarrels with the king, stay out of the way. He may yet have found a way to kill with his magic, and we are all familiar with his temper.”
No one needed to acknowledge this, so they walked in silence through the black and ashen field, the grayish white statues standing as pillars beneath the darkened sky.
But as Lorrek walked closer and closer to the palace where he knew an unkind fate awaited him, he reflected on how all this began and marveled at how no one except himself saw all the connections, understood the consequences, and accepted the results. Everything that led to this moment came back to his mind, but of course, no other knew the truth.
Lorrek shook his head and dismissed these memories. Determined not to dwell on his ten years of wandering back until he found himself in the kingdom of Nirrorm, Lorrek looked up and saw the castle of Serhon coming
into view. The urge to magick out of there and flee to any other realm arose within Lorrek's chest, but he strove against it and finally buried it deep inside.
He was about to face King Roskelem after all these years, and he knew only terrible agony awaited him. Yet, he had promised Princess Mordora the safety of her brother, and that safety was purchased at the price of retrieving Princess Anelm from the clutches of King Roskelem. Lorrek shook his head—not wanting to think about what Roskelem had done with the princess of pure magic.
“Are you well?” Bodulf finally broke the long silence between them as he twisted around but continued to float backward. “You look...oh, I don't know, a little pale.” He wiggled his fingers as demonstration.
Lorrek narrowed his eyes and passed through Bodulf. “I am well.”
Esdras lifted his brows at their companion's harsh tone, but then he locked eyes with Bodulf and shook his head—Don’t push it.
Bodulf frowned, but fell silent, and moved beside them as they trudged their way to the castle.
In the shadow of the castle, Lorrek looked up.
His fate awaited him.
18
Therth stood in his cousin Theran's chambers. He hadn't been here for years—since before going to Jechorm with Lorrek, Loroth, and Vixen. He stood near the balcony where billowing drapes helped conceal him from the sight of anyone who might be looking. Cuskelom's capital city below had changed little during all these years—hadn't advanced in technology like Jechorm or fallen to the rule of Verddra, like Nirrorm.
Honroth had yet to tell him what he expected of him. No one would tell him where Theran was now. Therth supposed he should be grateful that his cousins had not placed him in the dungeon but simply confined him to Theran's chambers with Inecha's magic preventing him from leaving.
All Therth could do now was wait. He sank into a chair facing the door, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, then set his chin on his fists to reflect.
His face hurt where Vixen had punched him. His chest ached with freshly forming bruises. His knuckles strained from punches of his own, but he knew he should be grateful—at least Vixen hadn't drawn any of her blades on him. The last time he had seen Vixen, she had promised to hurt him if let anything happen to her husband, and she had proven to be a woman of her word. Still, the injuries she had given him hurt more than just on a physical level since they were there because he had failed his brother all those years ago.
Therth didn’t like to think about that.
After several hours, the door finally groaned open, and Therth straightened in the chair when his eyes fell upon Vixen carrying a tray of food. He frowned at this because she was never the serving type, but he watched her set it on a table across the way then turn to face him with one hand on her hip.
“I figured you might be hungry.” She motioned to the tray.
Therth lifted his chin to see what was on the tray, but already he recognized the smell as soup from the palace kitchen—a meal he grew up on but hadn't had in a very long time. He had planned to ignore the food, but his stomach growled. Vixen chuckled and handed him the bowl of soup and a wooden spoon. He took it with suspicion and narrowed his eyes at it before looking up at her. “When did you become so pleasant?”
“Pleasant? Me?” Vixen smiled as she leaned back against the table and crossed her arms. “I'm not pleasant. I am simply being gracious.”
“Because you want something from me.” Therth nodded then brought a spoonful of hot soup to his lips and slurped on it.
“Well...” She lifted her slender shoulders in a shrug. “You are going to help Honroth whether you want to or not, but I don't care about that.” She pushed away from the table then came to stand in front of Therth with folded arms. “What happened after I left Jechorm? You said you were going to keep Loroth safe, but I felt him die through our bond, and I have not seen anyone who was there until now, so what happened?”
The topic dulled his appetite, and Therth curled the corner of his lip up in disgust as he set the spoon back into the bowl and lowered it to his lap. It had been a while since he had thought about that day. He used to think about it almost constantly, trying to figure out what exactly happened, but Verddra finally persuaded him to move forward, so he had let himself forget. Now Vixen demanded that he unbury those memories, and he found himself reluctant to touch them.
He shook his head. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
Her eyes flashed with indignation, and Therth stiffened as she took a step toward him before hesitating and retreating again. She kept her arms locked across her chest as if that was the only thing restraining her from striking out at him. “Do not play me the fool, Therth. You know very well what I'm talking about. How could you allow Lo to die under your watch?”
“I wasn't there!” He spat out at her, and she straightened when hearing this. Loathing the fact that he had taken her bait, Therth realized all he could do now was talk. He tore his eyes from her and stared at the wooden floor as he finally dug into those old memories. “Lo and I were in the cafeteria. Atheta had been with us earlier, but Lorrek magicked in, told her they needed to talk, and then he magicked out with her. Then moments later, Lo suddenly sensed Lorrek was in danger. He left in a hurry, and I went to follow him, but Adonis stopped me in the hall and told me Guardian Haiken requested to speak with someone in our group. I tried to talk my way out of it, but Adonis insisted. That was the last time I saw Lo—watching him as he walked away, too concerned about Lorrek to realize I was preoccupied and not following him. By the time I got to Lorrek's chambers, the place was a wreck.” Therth shook his head as he remembered the deep anxiety he felt when stepping into the ruins of the room. “No one was in the room except for King Roskelem. I...I don't know what happened.”
He hesitated then locked troubled eyes with Vixen. “You said Lo died. You mean...” His face twisted, distraught, as he tried to clamp down on his emotions, “You mean he died all those years ago?”
Vixen's features softened when she realized that Therth hadn't known about his brother's death. Being bound to Loroth through their marriage had been a blessing for her, she supposed; she had known with certainty that was he gone, and she didn't spend years searching for him. On the contrary, the bond also linked her to Lorrek, whom she had never felt die as the whole world had assumed, so she hadn't been too surprised when he appeared in the forest.
Dragging a chair from across the room, Vixen stationed it in front of Therth and sat down, leaning forward. “He must have died shortly after you last saw him. He wasn't in pain—wasn't in a panic. Actually, he was more at peace.” A fond smile touched her lips. “The last thing he sent me over our bond was love, and then he passed shortly afterwards.”
“And you don't know what happened?”
Vixen thought back to what Lorrek had said a little while back when he had entrusted her with the dagger. She didn't know if Therth believed the rumors of Lorrek's death, but she didn't want to explain, so she settled giving a for vague answer. “I think he died trying to save Lorrek.”
“So Lorrek is dead as well?”
She knew he lived but kept this to herself for now. Lorrek had a plan, and she didn't want to ruin it by telling the wrong person that he was still alive, so she nodded. “That is what they say, but Theran doesn't believe it.”
Therth sat back in his chair with a long sigh. He hadn't known all those years ago when he had insisted on taking that random trip to Jechorm with Lorrek, Loroth, and Vixen that his life would never be the same again. He had gone because he knew there was a possibility that Loroth could die if the magic extraction proved too much for his body, but he hadn't expected everything to fall apart like it had. None of it made any sense.
“Erita said you were with Verddra. Why?” Vixen's question drew Therth's attention back to the conversation, and he lifted his brows as he raised his head.
He comprehended what she had said and narrowed his eyes. “Because I was left behind. Lorrek took Lo
and Atheta but left me. I had no way home, and Verddra recognized my distress and offered me a way to find Loroth—”
“On the condition that you worked for her.”
Therth nodded. “Scouting missions mostly—muscle when she needed it. She said she would free all the lands where magic is forbidden.”
“So that's why she conquered Nirrorm.” Vixen took this in with a frown but then furrowed her brows. “What did she give you in return? Surely, you weren’t working for her for free.”
“No—not freely.” He shook his head. “She gave me leads to follow every now and then that might lead to Loroth or Lorrek, but—”
“You never found anything.”
“I didn't, but I found a lot of other things.”
Vixen lifted her brows. “Like what?”
Therth looked around the room uneasily. He wouldn't be surprised if Verddra was somehow listening in and heard his every word and saw every movement; if displeased, she could strike him down with a thought, but he would rather risk her fury while here among those he loved than alone.
He scooted to the edge of his seat and leaned toward Vixen, speaking in a quiet voice. “During one of my tracking missions, I ran into a man in the woods. His name was Wol'van—sound familiar?” He watched her pull back in her seat and fold her arms, covering her bladed vest as her eyes narrowed.
She nodded once. “He trained me with knives.” She said nothing else and tried to keep all emotions out of her voice and face.
“He said your old friend Aden came to him and told him something was happening, but he wasn't sure what. All the thieves and Houses of assassins in the woods are banding together. No one can explain why, but it's almost as if they've stopped their petty arguments over territories because something bigger and more dangerous is coming.”
“How do they know this?” It sounded as if magic was involved, but only a few thieves and assassins she knew had magic, and she couldn't imagine anyone casting a spell so generic and broad.
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 17