“You!”
Roskelem exploded from his chair. “I would never harm my daughter!”
Lorrek scoffed at this. “And yet, there you were—completely out of control and attacking everything in sight. Had I been alone in facing you, I would have subdued you, but I wasn't. I had the safety of Princess Atheta to keep in mind because you gave no thought to anything but your rage, so I took her from you.” But then Lorrek recalled what Roskelem said of his plans, so he went on, “Oh, and I had fully intended to return her here when it was safe, but circumstances deemed otherwise, so think of me what you will, but here I stand—the proposition still in place. I offer my freedom for that of Princess Anelm.”
Roskelem regarded Lorrek for a long moment as he sat back in his throne. Even with his imperfect magic, Roskelem could sense how powerful Lorrek was, and this perplexed him. “Why not simply magick to her location and free her yourself? Surely you know where she is already.”
“I could do that.” Lorrek nodded but then locked gazes with him. “But then I would be who you believe me to be—a conniving sorcerer of Cuskelom, so I leave the choice up to you. What will it be?”
For a long moment the two men stared at each other. Haskel wasn't sure if they communicated through magic, but he glanced at his sister then made up his mind. “Father.” He approached them—ignoring Lorrek as a way to show his father that he did not fear the sorcerer. “This is a reasonable exchange. We knew it was a matter of time before the king of Athorim sent someone to negotiate terms for the princess' release, and this is...well, it is better than we could have hoped for. Please consider it.”
While Haskel spoke, Lorrek observed the young man he had called a friend another lifetime ago. Back then all the royal families of Cuskelom, Serhon, and Nirrorm came together every spring. While their fathers reviewed terms of peace among the three kingdoms, the children always escaped the boring talks and set out on grand adventures of hunting, racing, exploring, or training practice. “How all things have changed,” Lorrek shook his head in reflection then shifted his gaze to Roskelem as he saw the king come to a conclusion.
“Yes, yes...” Roskelem nodded—still trying to grasp the full idea of having Lorrek as his prisoner. Finally, he locked eyes with Lorrek then smiled. “Of course. This is indeed...reasonable, as you say, my son, but first...” He neared Lorrek, who did not lower his posture into submission or flinch at the intense stare at the king who circled him like prey. “I cannot allow you full access to your magic because once I release the princess, who's to say you won't magick yourself out of here?”
Panic stirred within Lorrek, but he strove to keep it down while keeping his face expressionless. “You have my word.”
Roskelem clicked his tongue and shook his head as he wagged a finger in the air. “You see, I just...well, I just don't believe you—not after everything you've done.” Disgust crinkled his nose as he glowered at the prince of Cuskelom then finally turned his back on him, pondering the full potential of this situation.
Realizing he could not fulfill his promise to King Caleth without sacrifice on his own part, Lorrek gathered a breath and drew back his shoulders. “What would you have me—” Before the full sentence was spoken, Lorrek gasped and stiffened when Roskelem whipped back around with hand outstretched. Lorrek couldn't move.
A pleased smirk spread across Roskelem's face as he kept his hand out toward Lorrek. “You see, Prince Lorrek, I may not be able to hurt you, but magic is not a physical part of your being. Therefore, magic can be contained by other magic. I'm sure you know the spell—magic minders use it all the time.”
Lorrek struggled to show no emotion. His body—sewn together merely by magic due to the earlier spell Roskelem had worked—felt as though it were being squeezed and suffocated. Yes, Lorrek could breath, but the overwhelming presence of magic in his person was terribly constricted. He tried to fight it, but the more he struggled, the deeper the fangs of Roskelem's magic dug into his own.
Finally—recognizing this was his first sacrifice—Lorrek stopped fighting. Something calmed him. Although Roskelem had a hold on most of his magic, there was a silent, subtle part of Lorrek's magic that remained out of the king's reach. Even with this magic binding, Lorrek found he could still control a small part of the spell that solidified him. It made no sense, and Lorrek would ponder it later, but for now he quieted that realization in his mind. No need for Roskelem to sense anything.
Roskelem's grin grew ever wider. “That's much better. If you try to use any magic whatsoever, I will know, and you will be in a great deal of pain.” He leaned in to Lorrek's face. “And I will enjoy every moment of it. This is far better than killing you.” With a smirk, Roskelem pulled back, but then paused, and snapped his fingers. “Ah, but all this would be for naught if you just magick yourself out of here to an unknown realm and claim you never agreed to terms of your surrender. Thankfully, I am prepared.” Then he snapped at his son, “Haskel, where is that scroll?”
While Haskel hastened away to retrieve the requested item, Lorrek mused. “You knew I would come.”
Roskelem chuckled. “Oh, I had hoped you would come, and I had many, many years to imagine this very moment.” Finally, Haskel returned with a scroll and handed it to his father then stepped back, and Roskelem unfurled the scroll, showing a long list of terms for Lorrek's imprisonment.
Furrowing his brows, Lorrek leaned in to read the details then realized that all of this had been premeditated. He pulled back as best he could with Roskelem's magic still gripping his own and met the king's eyes. “You wish to enact a binding spell, so if I were to magick away and not keep my word, I would forever be lost in the magic realm.” Part of Lorrek was impressed that Roskelem had mastered such magic, but the other part of him was irritated because Roskelem couldn’t simply kill him but had to prolong his torture.
Roskelem narrowed his eyes at Lorrek’s words. “Do not doubt my ability! Now, sign at the bottom!” He shook the contract in front of Lorrek's face, but Lorrek looked unimpressed.
“You seriously think that I would sign that? For one, I cannot hold a physical pen due to your spell, and now you bind my own magic so that I can hardly move at all—”
“Imprint it with your magic! I don't care. Just sign it now!”
Sighing, Lorrek focused on the paper and concentrated. Though he knew he was signing away his own fate, at the moment he saw no other alternatives. Perhaps being among the royal family of Serhon would give him the time he needed to show them how they misinterpreted the past. At last, his signature danced onto the paper, and then Lorrek locked eyes with Roskelem.
It was done.
Roskelem looked at the signature then smirked and rolled the scroll up once more. He motioned for Lorrek to be taken away. “Guards, take him to the dungeon.”
No one stepped forward.
“Guards!” Roskelem whipped around then realized the guards of the council room were still unconscious from his earlier attacks on Lorrek. Fearing to lose his newly established strength against Lorrek, Roskelem looked at Haskel and Gremina, completely clueless as to how he could save face.
Haskel sighed and stepped forward. “I'll take him to the dungeon.” He moved to grab Lorrek's arm only for his hand to pass through. Haskel glared at Lorrek, but Lorrek merely raised a brow then headed out of the room with Haskel.
“Be sure he doesn't talk to you!” Roskelem shouted after them. “He might try to cast a spell on you with his words.”
“I know, Father!” Haskel slid a glare over his shoulder at his father. Along the way, they passed Gremina, who had observed the whole event in silence.
Lorrek greeted her with a nod in passing. “Lovely—you do take after your mother indeed.”
Before Roskelem had a chance to blast Lorrek again, or before Gremina could lift her hand to slap him across the cheek, Haskel attempted to yank him away from her, but Lorrek laughed when Haskel's hands passed through him again, and the sorcerer emerged from the council hall to where Esdras and Bodulf w
aited.
Ignoring how the two men asked no questions but fell into step with them, Haskel leaned close to Lorrek as they walked and spoke in a low tone. “I don't know the angle of your game, but if you intend to hurt my family—”
“Rest assured, Prince Haskel, I have no such intentions. As a matter of fact, that has never been my intention.”
Haskel let out a sarcastic laugh as he straightened and continued to walk, but he sent Lorrek a look. “I'm sure that's what you told my sister right before you forced her.”
Lorrek narrowed his eyes but spoke in a quiet voice. “I did not touch her.”
“Then how would you explain her becoming pregnant when you were the only one around?”
Lorrek considered the many possible responses he could make in order to give an answer, but he found them all far-fetched, so he settled on the truth and leaned in close so that only Haskel could hear him as they spoke. “Because, although she was engaged to my brother, Theran, she truly loved my cousin Therth, whom she had been led to believe was Theran because they are nearly identical. They made love one night, and shortly thereafter I confronted her because I realized she was pregnant, but I did not know who the father was until she told me.”
Hearing this, Haskel threw his head back and laughed. “You honestly expect me to believe that? You have a cousin I have never heard about, who's name just happens to be close to 'Theran' and that he just happens to be identical to Theran. Of course, that makes perfect sense—except cousins are never identical!” Then with a snarl, he turned to grab Lorrek by the scruff of his tunic, but his hands went through Lorrek's body. Haskel growled. Lorrek shrugged, nonchalant.
“Happens all the time.” Lorrek offered him a smirk, and this only reignited Haskel's wrath.
Unable to physically manhandle him, Haskel settled for an icy glare. “As I was saying, you are lying. There is no cousin. There is no Therth, and you are solely responsible for what happened to my sister. You might have convinced yourself that the lie is the truth—because, after all, the most convincing lies are those that the liar himself believes, but know this...” He leaned in close to Lorrek's face. “I don't believe a single word you say.” Then he pulled back and walked away—fully confident that Lorrek would follow because he had no choice.
Lorrek observed his fellow prince. Irked by Haskel's refusal to believe the truth, Lorrek flexed his fingers, but he knew he couldn't use his magic to show the prince of Serhon memories he had taken from Atheta that illustrated the truth. Roskelem would sense the use of magic and hunt him down.
Frustrated with all his failed efforts, Lorrek shook his head and made his hands into fists as he gritted his teeth. “You know what?” he called after Haskel, who halted but didn't turn to face him. “You're right. I did it, and I enjoyed every moment of it! I pinned her to the ground, heard her screams, and I laughed in her face.” While he spoke, Haskel slowly turned—barely concealed rage radiating off of him, but Lorrek wanted him to get angry—he himself was furious. “Do you want me to tell you about the shocked look on her face when I tore her clothes off? How she felt? How she tasted?”
With a howl, Haskel dove for Lorrek but only fell through him and crashed to the floor. Quickly he spun around to climb to his feet, but Lorrek—seething—was already there towering over him.
Lorrek knelt beside him, used small untraceable strands of magic to solidify only his hand, and then grabbed Haskel by the front of his tunic and yanked him close to his face—features darkened by rage. A cold calm settled over him as he spoke, “You should know me better than that. I would never touch her!” Lorrek searched Haskel's face for any sign that he realized his old friend would not harm his sister in any way. However, seeing only uncompromising fury, Lorrek sighed with disappointment and released him.
Rising to his feet, he looked at Esdras and Bodulf—both of whom looked uncertain about interrupting the princes. “I do believe I am expected in the dungeons, and Prince Haskel,” he looked down at him, “is not fit to escort me.” He glanced back at the others. “Would one of you two do the honors?”
Bodulf leapt at the chance. “I'll take him!” At the glare he earned from Esdras for his enthusiasm, Bodulf chuckled uneasily, and lowered his hand, but crept closer to Lorrek. “I mean—you should check on Prince Haskel. It's not like Prince Lorrek will escape from me.” Without waiting for approval from Esdras or the prince, Bodulf swirled around and gestured for Lorrek to follow.
Esdras watched them go and then glanced down at Haskel. He offered him a hand.
Staring at Lorrek's back, Haskel wished he had some of his father's ability to blast the man away from sight, but even then he had seen how his father had failed to do even that. Noticing Esdras' hand, Haskel seized it and grunted as he rose to his feet. “I hate that man—all the dishonor he has wrought. He ought to be hung.”
As silent as ever, Esdras offered no words of agreement, reassurance, or argument. He merely bowed his head and kept his opinion to himself.
Not trusting himself to control his temper, Haskel knew he should stay far from Lorrek for as long as he could. However, he did not trust Bodulf to be responsible. He shot Esdras a look then nodded in the direction that they had left. “Go. See to it that he is set in a secure cell, and have Bodulf block his magic, so he cannot escape.”
Bowing to the prince, Esdras turned on his heel and marched after Lorrek and Bodulf.
In the dungeon, the door groaned as the doorkeeper unlocked it and pushed it open to allow entrance for the two sorcerers. Lorrek looked up and around at the damp, depressing surroundings then shook his head. “They all look the same—dungeons that is. Someone should really get creative one of these days.”
“I've thought about petitioning the king for permission to remodel the place, but he's been too preoccupied,” Bodulf admitted then motioned for Lorrek to head down a dark, narrow corridor leading to the individual cells.
Lorrek imagined Roskelem granting such permission only to be shocked when the king came down here again to check on the progress of things and saw the place had been transformed into a suite worthy of Jechorm's modern skyscrapers. He smirked at the thought but kept it to himself as Bodulf led him deeper and deeper down the corridor.
Groans came from the cells they passed, but Lorrek didn't bother to glimpse inside. He didn't need to see the dirty and pitiful state of his fellow prisoners. That would only serve to discourage him, and he was here with a purpose.
Finally, Bodulf stopped at a cell and yanked open the door. Lorrek stepped inside and looked around. As expected, he saw four barren walls and a stone floor covered by some straw. Turning to face the door, he noted that it was made of thick wood with only a small, barred window at eye level, and a narrow opening at the bottom where food could be slid under the door into the room on a tray.
In the doorway of the cell, Bodulf looked apologetic. Lorrek knew he wanted to ask more about the binding spell Lorrek had concocted that made him solid, but now was not the time or place—especially as Esdras approached them with orders from Haskel. “The prince wants you to cast a blocking spell over the cell as you’ve done to the others.”
Bodulf widened his eyes. “He’s already bound him to that contract. What more does the king want? Does he honestly think I can restrain the Prince of Cuskelom’s full power? Do you have any idea how many magic users you have down here, whom you’ve had me block? It takes a lot of power. I am flattered, but still—”
“Do it.” When Bodulf looked at him doubtfully, Lorrek nodded. “Close the door, lock it, and cast the spell. I will not fight it.”
Bodulf hesitated but then nodded. Closing his eyes, he muttered a spell, and Lorrek felt his powers dampen. They were still there within reach—Bodulf had been right not to brag of his might, but it would do. Lorrek would honor it.
Lowering himself to the floor, Lorrek nodded to the two men. “That will be all. Thank you for your hospitality.” They left without a word, and Lorrek bowed his head.
Time
to reflect—to ponder. It reminded him of the time he spent alone and in utter darkness after falling into the Orb of Oblivion.
“Prince Lorrek?” A woman's voice drew him out of his thoughts, and he lifted his head but furrowed his brows.
Curious, Lorrek climbed to his feet and went to the door to look out the small barred window. For some reason he wasn't surprised by who he saw. “Princess Anelm—ironic that we should be neighbors in this dungeon, seeing as how I have secured your freedom.” At the price of my own liberty, but he kept the last part to himself. Taking the moment, he observed the princess as best he could through the narrow window.
She looked through a window just as small, but he could see her ashen features that resembled her brother Caleth. Her golden eyes seemed clear, but when she bowed her head, acknowledging his words, he caught a glimpse of something foreign—dark hair framing her face. She brushed it behind her ear as she lifted her gaze back to him and looked ready to speak.
Whatever she was about to say, Lorrek ignored and gripped the bars of the window as he leaned in as close as he could. “He made you use tainted magic.”
That wasn't a question.
A chuckle emerged from the next cell over, and an amused man's voice joined the conversation. “Make her use it? That is putting it lightly, my boy. No—he tried to steal her pure magic from her. I observed it myself. He even wanted me to help, but I refused. I told him it wasn't possible.”
Lorrek frowned at this new individual. He didn't recognize the voice, but he assumed he was a magic user based on his words. “Who are you?”
“His name is Sirros—Lord of House Rodden,” Anelm supplied for him.
This news took Lorrek back. He knew the Houses, especially the five most powerful ones—Rodden, Ackden, Perik, Tiavora, and Foden. “What is a master of assassins doing in the dungeon of Serhon?” Lorrek tried to peer down the corridor to Sirros' cell but only saw shadows.
Sirros' voice returned. “The question is not why I am here, but rather, what am I going to do when I get out?”
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 21