Lorrek looked across the way to Anelm. He didn't understand what Sirros meant, but the master assassin was the least of his concerns. His focus was the release of Princess Anelm, and he hoped Lord Sirros would not intervene in the delicate negotiations because if peace talks failed, Lorrek knew King Caleth would be most displeased.
“Whatsoever your plans may be,” Lorrek directed his words to Sirros, “withhold from starting a war—at least for the time being.”
“You know I can order one of my own to kill King Roskelem.”
Lorrek shook his head. “No—not now.” That last thing he wanted was to be responsible for the king of Serhon when this kingdom still misjudged him so badly.
A disappointed sigh rippled from Sirros' cell. “Ah well, I suppose waiting a little longer will not hurt.” And then he fell silent—most likely plotting, scheming. Lorrek did not doubt his mastermind, but he did not want to be caught in the middle of it.
For now, the three of them welcomed the silence.
23
Since their initial conversation, Lorrek and Anelm said nothing—both lost in thought—while Sirros offered no further words. Lorrek realized by freeing the princess on the condition of his own imprisonment, he found himself in a perilous position.
When Caleth learned what Roskelem had done to his sister, he would—no doubt—declare war on Serhon. Honroth—an ally to both kingdoms—would seek to act as a mediator between the two. However, Honroth had no idea that his own brother was in Roskelem's dungeon, and Lorrek imagined Roskelem playing his hand one of two ways: either he would keep Lorrek out of sight or force Lorrek to work against Honroth. Lorrek wasn't sure that he could do either one.
Sighing, he pulled himself out of these depressing circular thoughts and sought to set his mind on another—easier—subject.
“Why are you here, Princess?” He lifted his head to look at the door of his cell. Without rising to his feet to go to the window, he knew Anelm could hear him.
He heard her sigh. “King Roskelem claimed to have stumbled upon an ancient Athorim relic, and I came to determine if it was genuine since I am well-versed with the history and mythology of Athorim. However,” she hesitated, “As you can see, things did not go according to plan.”
Lorrek frowned when he heard this. “But what does he want from you?”
“I already told you,” Sirros answered for her down the corridor. “He wants her pure magic. I overheard him saying magic can be infused. Ridiculous if you ask me.”
Lorrek narrowed his eyes. “I wasn't asking you. I was asking Princess Anelm.”
“Oh,” he sounded disappointed but remained regal. “Very well then.”
Finally, Anelm sighed. “He wishes to better understand magic, and there are some things he cannot manage. It frustrates him.”
“So he makes you do them instead.” Lorrek nodded in understanding, then rose to his feet, and went to the door to look across the way at her cell.
Anelm lowered herself onto the edge of the cot that King Roskelem had finally given her after the many times she had helped him. Once, he had even gifted her with a guest chamber in his palace, but when he made a demand she refused to obey, he threw her back into the dungeon. She preferred it here. Though it was unwelcoming, the dungeons were far enough from Roskelem's chaotic presence that Anelm could finally think.
“Is your magic bound?” Lorrek's soft voice pierced the shadows of the prison, and Anelm lifted her eyes back to the door. A faint beam of light from the torches in the corridor fell through the small window in the door.
She nodded. “Aye—as best as they can bind something they do not understand.” Then she paused, considering a thought before speaking. “However, even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t magick from this place...not unless absolutely necessary.” She went to the door.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Lorrek frowned, confused.
Sirros let out an exasperated sigh. “Here we go again. She and I have been having this conversation for days now. Something about the difference between pure magic and tainted magic. It makes my head spin, if you ask me.”
Lorrek furrowed his brows. “The difference between the two has never been defined.”
“It’s never been defined by the users of tainted magic,” Anelm corrected. “On the other hand, we who use pure magic know the difference.”
“By all means,” Lorrek nodded, “enlighten me.”
“It's simple: tainted magic users can use magic whenever they please for good or evil, but the users of pure magic must only use their magic for the good of others.”
“Well, that makes perfect sense,” Sirros' sarcastic voice interjected.
Ignoring him, Lorrek frowned and focused on Anelm. “You make it sound almost as if pure magic has a conscience.”
Anelm shook her head then stood on her tiptoes for a better view out the window. She gripped the bars. “Tell me, Prince Lorrek, how often do you use magic?”
“As often as I breathe.”
She nodded. “And we do not. We don't use it to further our own endeavors. We don't use it out of mere convenience, and we most certainly do not use it as a shortcut through life.”
“So that's why no pure magic user magicks from location to location.”
“Exactly.”
Sirros spoke up again, “So, according to the constitution of your magic, you can magick us out of here, so it would be for the good of others rather than just for yourself. Why not do that? Isn’t that a loophole around your petty restrictions?”
Anelm sighed. “I could, but here...it reeks with tainted magic and sinks into my very pores. I will not use my magic here. I have used enough, and I know the consequences—”
“Even if it’s for the good of someone else, like Prince Lorrek here, for instance?”
“Lord Sirros, enough.” Lorrek’s command cut through the dampness of the cells. “Princess Anelm has her reasons, and she has been through much trauma, and I would not ask her to use her magic for my own good.”
Then Lorrek tried to imagine living this way—always having magic at his fingertips but never using it except... “However, Princess, I do wonder, why do you have magic if you don't use it? When would you use it?” He peered through the window again and saw her smile at him.
“We use it on a daily basis, Prince Lorrek—mainly for the safety and protection of those around us. If a child is about to fall, the magic that is around us and in us senses this, and will stop the child's fall using whoever's power necessary. If an arrow is coming to shoot one of its users, the magic will deflect it. We have no need to be aware of it or worry. If we remain in the confines of pure magic, it will protect us and keep the peace.”
Part of this made sense. Lorrek could understand why someone like Verddra would find tainted magic much more tempting, but if what Anelm said was true, that they did not use their magic for their own gain then, “What about the glamour spells? When I was in Athorim, I sensed a glamour spell on everyone—well, at least the peasants and commoners of the land, and perhaps some nobles.”
Anelm pulled away from the window. Though Lorrek couldn't see her, she knew he could hear her, and she preferred it that way as she reflected on the gray truths of the kingdom of Athorim. Everyone outside of Athorim viewed her kingdom as some sort of heaven, but if they lived there for any period of time, they would know the truth—it was just like every other place where secrets and lies crept into the souls of men, and good intentions proceed ill deeds. Yet, Athorim was partly to blame for this illusion, for they never tried to correct the misguided notion, but rather acted as a city of refuge for those who sought to hide from their past and take time to heal—such as Lorrek's own mother.
Sighing, Anelm shook her head. “Though the commoners have magic, they are more prone to use it for their own purposes.” She lifted her gaze back to the window in the door. “That is why they wear glamour spells. They do not wish to appear to be different or openly show just how far they have fallen.”
> “And the nobles?”
She lowered her gaze once more. “We are more strict...” She trailed off when she heard the door to the dungeon groan open. Already she sensed the presence of Prince Haskel accompanied by a common guard and Bodulf. She rose to her feet and went to the door to meet him because she knew he had come to speak either with Lorrek or herself, and if Lorrek was to be believed, that her freedom was secured, perhaps Haskel came to conclude that business.
The prince of Serhon halted in the corridor between Lorrek's cell and hers. Even in this dim light, Anelm could tell many matters weighed heavy on his mind, yet he kept it all unspoken as he locked eyes with Anelm through the barred window. “Princess Anelm, Prince Lorrek has bargained for your freedom, but my father will do so on one condition—”
“He has me as his prisoner. What more can he want?” Lorrek snapped from his cell, and Anelm shifted her gaze to him in time to see anger flash across his face.
Haskel did not bother to turn to face Lorrek through the door, but looked at Anelm, and motioned a guard to open the door. However, he spoke over his shoulder to the other prince. “It is the condition by which he'll stand in addition to your surrender.” He locked eyes with Anelm, and she saw regret in his eyes, as if he didn't want to do what he had to do next, but he swallowed his pride and turned around to Lorrek. With his face as stiff as a stone, he motioned for the guards to unlock Lorrek’s cell as well. “And you are coming as well.”
Lorrek drew back at this announcement and half-expected a sarcastic remark from Sirros, but the Lord of Rodden remained strangely silent during this exchange. Lorrek stepped back, allowing the guards to open the door. Once he stepped into the now-crowded corridor, he looked upon Anelm and noticed the streaks of black now tainting her otherwise flawless whitish-blonde hair. It looked as if an ugly hand had raked its claws through her long, straight hair, but it strangely framed her pale face in a lovely way that Lorrek couldn't describe. Most Athorians would quickly cast a glamour spell to conceal their imperfections, but their princess—a representative of her powerful people—refrained from such a spell, as if to be an example to her own people and accept that they were flaws. Lorrek hoped the people of Athorim would appreciate her sacrifice.
Realizing how similar he was to her, Lorrek smiled at her then offered her his arm as he willed it to solidify. “Shall we walk together to wherever King Roskelem will meet us, Your Highness?”
She returned his smile and slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow—ignoring the scowl of Prince Haskel behind them. “It would be my pleasure.”
Pushing his way in front of them, Haskel muttered, “This way,” and then didn't look back.
The two prisoners of Serhon—royals from different kingdoms—followed with as much regality as if they were going to a royal banquet.
When they stepped into the throne room, Lorrek noted that it was barren. Only Princess Gremina and King Roskelem waited for them in the room—with a few guards posted in the corners. He supposed Roskelem wanted none of his people to see or hear what judgment he would pass on his prisoners. Knowing nothing bode well for him, Lorrek released Princess Anelm's hand and straightened before King Roskelem.
Concealing all his uncertainties, Lorrek smirked at the king. “Ah, Your Majesty, so honorable of you to give us a chance to stretch our legs. I must say, I have had the most pleasant time with the Princess Anelm as my fellow prisoner.” He dropped the smirk, narrowed his eyes, and hardened his tone. “You said you would release her.”
Irked by the flamboyant way Lorrek made his entrance, Roskelem clutched his fists resting atop the armrests of his throne then tapped his knuckles on the wood in a stressed manner. However, seeing how the prince lost all humor in an instant, Roskelem froze his nervous tapping and realized—with a growing grin—how he had the upper hand this time.
Fighting to contain a wild grin and the excitement bubbling inside him, Roskelem's face twitched from the effort, but he finally leaned on one arm of the throne in a confident manner. “Ah Prince Lorrek—you always had a silver tongue, and I am glad you are as bright as they say. Yes, I did agree to release Princess Anelm upon your ever-so gracious surrender.” He leveled Lorrek with a dry look. “Nevertheless, I have not done so yet because I require her skills one final time.”
Lorrek placed himself between Roskelem and Anelm and shook his head. “You have tainted her magic. I refuse to allow you to further ruin her reputation.”
“You have no say in the matter—or in anything whatsoever.” Roskelem pulled out a rolled up scroll from beside him and held it in the air for Lorrek to see. “Such are the terms to which you agreed.”
“You signed a contract with him?” Anelm whispered to Lorrek in disbelief.
Lorrek kept his voice low, and eyes on the scroll, but spoke to Anelm. “I did what I had to do to free you.” He straightened then nodded to Roskelem. “Very well. Why have you summoned us?”
A smirk flashed across the king's face before he rose to his feet, walked down the dais, and circled around his two prisoners. “Why indeed? You see, Prince Lorrek, with your surrender you have presented me with both a golden opportunity and a double-edged curse. I have come to realize that having you—one of the most powerful sorcerers of our time—as my prisoner will do me little good if I cannot use your powers.”
“Then what do you propose?” Lorrek's narrowed eyes followed Roskelem, who walked around them until he stood in front of them again.
“Justice!” Roskelem snapped around to face them—his face hardened. “Death is the most reasonable punishment for your crimes against my daughter, my family, and this kingdom. However, considering your...less than solid condition...” he gestured with disgust at Lorrek, and Lorrek knew if Roskelem regretted anything, it was that he had learned the wrong spell. “I have decided on a compromise.” He crossed his arms.
Lorrek waited. If his punishment was not death, and he knew Roskelem could not torture him since he was a mere presence, what sort of sentence might Roskelem settle on that would satisfy his thirst for vengeance? Lorrek stood unafraid. Whatever it was, he had probably endured worst.
“Prince Lorrek of Cuskelom, as punishment for your crimes against this kingdom, Princess Anelm shall erase all your memories and bind your will to me, so you will do exactly as I command.”
Lorrek stared.
Beside him, Anelm protested that she could never do such a thing. Princess Gremina stepped forward with the argument this was not justice. Prince Haskel demanded to know how Lorrek could pay for crimes he would not even remember. Yet Lorrek heard none of these arguments.
He simply stared and reflected on the irony.
All those years ago he had stripped Atheta of her memory in order to protect her, and without realizing it, Roskelem handed him the same sentence. Despite the injustice of his situation, and how only he knew the truth—contained in his memories alone—Lorrek recalled Haskel's reaction to the truth Lorrek had told him, and Lorrek knew Roskelem would respond in such a way or worse.
It was better this way.
He managed to smile at Roskelem. “Your Majesty, you do not realize how fitting this punishment is.” Turning away from the king so as not to allow for further discussion, he looked down at Anelm beside him, who stared up at him—eyes wide and shaking her head. Of all the people capable of erasing a mind of memories, only Anelm was present, but that required her to use tainted magic one last time, and Lorrek hated that. Without taking his eyes off Anelm, he spoke to Roskelem, “Once she has done this, you will let her go?”
“Immediately.”
“I cannot.” Anelm shook her head again and again and tried to back away, but Lorrek stepped forward and let his hands hover just over her shoulders.
“Princess,” Lorrek locked eyes with her. “I know what it requires of you, but this will be the last time you ever need use such magic. After this, you will return to Athorim, and I pray you never need to leave the kingdom again.”
With brows creas
ed, her golden eyes searched the depths of his blue eyes, and she shook her head again. “How can you allow this? These are your memories.”
He offered her a smile. “Call it poetic justice.” He nodded. “It is the one thing King Roskelem is right about in this whole situation. I took away Atheta's memories, and I deserve this.”
“But...” She darted her eyes over to Roskelem then back to Lorrek. “I don't know how.”
Of course not—it was not a spell she would ever need to know as a pure magic user. It was one of tainted magic, and dark tainted magic at that. Lorrek nodded then glanced back to Roskelem. “Release my magic. If you truly wish for this to work, I will have to guide her through the spell.”
Roskelem narrowed his eyes then lifted his chin. “And how do I know you won't magick out of here with her as soon as you have free rein of your magic?”
“Because, King Roskelem,” Lorrek drew himself up to his full height. “I may be many things, and there are many things which I am not, but I am a man of my word. I gave myself as your prisoner in return for Princess Anelm's freedom. I signed that contract, and I will not back down though it costs me the only life I know.”
“Why? Why would you do that?” Princess Gremina caught Lorrek's attention, and he cast her a glance from across the room. She was always a quiet one—the youngest of her siblings. In many ways she reminded him of himself—without the magic—long before decisions, choices, mistakes, and regrets ruined everything for him. He prayed she would not inherit a life half as hard as his, but he acknowledged her question with a nod.
“Because, Princess Gremina, until your family receives a form of justice regarding Atheta, you will always seek ways to bring down my family and the kingdom of Cuskelom. I wish to end this feud now before any blood must be shed.” He looked back at Roskelem, who had meandered back up to his throne and sat down. “My memories are a small price to pay when compared to the lives saved from a war between Cuskelom and Serhon. Now, Your Majesty, release my powers and Anelm’s, and you shall have exactly what you demand.”
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 22