Elbow propped on the armrest, Roskelem rested his chin on his thumb—fingers covering his frown as he pondered the many possible outcomes of Lorrek's request. However, no matter how he looked at it, he could not deny that Lorrek was right. With regret, he loosened the bonds around the prince's magic with a gesture. “Be done with it!” Then he covered his eyes with his hand, expecting Lorrek to break his word and vanish with Anelm, or for Anelm to magick herself away immediately.
The princess gasped, sinking to her knees when her magic returned to her in full. The familiar warmth of her magic rushed back to her, and she could, once more, feel her bond with her brother, Caleth. She felt waves of concern coming from Caleth, but she sent him a wordless reassurance then tried to gather her thoughts and magic. It had been so long since she had been able to access her full power that it was like being in the dark for a long time and then thrust into the light, blinded.
Though Lorrek had not lost touch with his magic when Roskelem bound him, he no longer felt the omnipresence sensing his every use of magic. With that freedom, he took a calming breath then turned to the disoriented Anelm. “Trust me.” He willed his form to solidify and gripped her shoulders. She reached up and grabbed his wrists, and then he leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. They locked eye contact, and he whispered, “For the sake of your own sanity, do not pocket my memories within your own. There is no need for you to suffer anymore.”
When she nodded her head—as best she could with his forehead against hers—Lorrek took a deep breath then closed his eyes, opened himself to the realm of magic, and called all his memories to himself. They came at his summons—displaying themselves before him like windows into the past. Anelm could see none of this, for Lorrek shielded them from her.
Staring at the images, he saw them come alive.
It all began a long time ago. Lorrek wasn't entirely sure when exactly; it could have been when his identical cousin, Loroth, was born a year after him, or maybe when he was seven and met King Roskelem for the first time and realized how mesmerized Atheta's father had been by magic. It could have started when he was eight and was assigned to train with the ageless Countess Verddra in the ways of magic. This training continued until he was an adult.
Lorrek preferred to think everything leading up to this moment began ten years ago after a sparring match with Countess Verddra that didn't end well for Lorrek. He had drained much of his magic in defense against her, and by the time she finally withdrew her attacks—both of magic and of weapons—Lorrek could hardly stand. Thankfully, his cousin Loroth chose that moment to interrupt with an announcement that the king wished to see Lorrek, and as Lorrek prepared to leave, he stumbled, lightheaded. Loroth came to his side, ignoring Verddra completely.
“Careful.” He steadied him. “You've drained yourself again.” With that, Loroth lifted his hand and placed his fingertips at Lorrek's temple, and they locked eyes. Immediately Lorrek felt the familiar cool rush in his blood as Loroth channeled his healing powers into him.
For a moment Lorrek stared at his cousin. It was said they were identical—had the same pale skin, dark hair, and lean frame, but Lorrek couldn't see the similarities. Then again, they say mirrors lie as well, so Lorrek dismissed any thought of this. Loroth was a good double—stepping in for him when Lorrek couldn't be present, but Lorrek knew the stark difference between them. Though both were of a quiet demeanor, Lorrek preferred to scheme mischief here and there to liven up the day, whereas Loroth was more responsible and patient, but Loroth was also unwell.
Having enough healing energy from his cousin, Lorrek snatched Loroth's hand away from his head and gave him a firm look. “You know you shouldn't be wasting your energies. I shall be well.”
Loroth observed his cousin for a moment, then pressed his lips together, and nodded. “You will need your strength. Your father has summoned you.”
“And you couldn't fill in for me?” Lorrek smirked, then called a towel from a bench to him, and began wiping the sweat from off his face.
“He knows the difference.”
Lorrek nodded. Of course his father knew which individual was his son and which was the double. His superb magical abilities offered an insight to him few others saw. “Tell my father I will be there shortly, but I believe he would prefer that I clean myself up before meeting him.”
After Loroth bowed to him, turned on his heel, and left the training arena, Lorrek noticed that Countess Verddra was still present and had watched the entire conversation unfold without a word. He smiled at her. “Please excuse the interruption, Countess, and my hasty departure, but it seems duties call.”
“He's dying.”
The two words out of Verddra's mouth caused Lorrek to stiffen, but he lifted his gaze to her with his smile falling from his face. Lorrek nodded. He had known that his cousin was dying despite Loroth's valiant efforts to appear well. Magic was not natural for Loroth, and his powers were limited to three—healing, lightning, and phasing, but each time he used any of these powers, his life force became weaker.
Loroth never mentioned it and never complained, but Vixen was vocal where her husband was silent. Several times she had challenged Lorrek to a fight and took out all her anger, frustration, and fear on him. She blamed him and demanded he find some way to heal Loroth, but Lorrek accepted her wrath in silence because both knew there was nothing he could do to help his cousin—nothing more than he already had done.
Knowing now that Verddra noticed Loroth's weakness irked Lorrek, and he slid her a glare. “That is of no concern for you.” He draped the damp towel over his shoulder and with a gesture pocketed all his weapons away into another dimension before heading away.
“There is an alternative.” Verddra's voice halted the prince before he stepped out of the arena, and he hesitated then looked over his shoulder at her. She nodded. “There are some who are testing the transfusion of magic from one magic user to a non-user.”
Lorrek furrowed his brows and turned back to Verddra. “That is not even possible. Magic isn't something you can capture in a bottle and drink. You can't find it in your blood or in any cell of the body. It is deeper than that—closer to the mind, to the soul.”
“Are you so sure about that?” Verddra approached him with decisive steps. “Your father has already proven that some magic can be transferred to a non-user. That is why your cousin is in the condition that he is, is it not?”
Lorrek's eyes hardened. He had heard the stories. His father had an identical twin brother. Both had gotten married around the same time, and their wives became pregnant within a month of each other. Lorrek did not know whose idea it was, but it was decided that the royal children in line to the throne should have a double. Lorrek's father—the magic user of the twin brothers—stepped beyond his boundaries and strung magic around the unborn children in the separate wombs, prompting them to have similar structure and features. Theran was born first, and then Therth a month later. It wasn't until they started to grow that everyone noticed the similarities.
Then Honroth and Heldon were born—natural identical twins, which pleased their father very much, but then their mother became pregnant with Lorrek, and their aunt did not conceive that year. His father worried that Lorrek would not have a double of his own, but when he was born his magical abilities emerged immediately, startling the nursemaids and stressing his parents. Finally, his aunt became pregnant, and his father knew it would be a boy, so he prompted the unborn child to have the same likeness as Lorrek, but he knew one additional factor was required—the child needed to have magic, which both his parents lacked.
Lorrek didn't know how his father had managed to impart the gift of magic to his unborn nephew, but it resulted in an ill child.
Lorrek shook his head out of his thoughts and glowered at Verddra. “And who exactly is behind this...experiment?”
Verddra shrugged as she strolled up to Lorrek. “Oh, some people in Jechorm—you won't know their names if I told you, so it's not important.�
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“They honestly think they can infuse non-users with magic?” When Verddra gave him no answer and only stared, Lorrek scowled, and he clenched his fists. “You know that's impossible. Trying to extract magic from a user will kill the user, and trying to infuse magic into a non-user...” He trailed off as he imagined the faces of all those ignorant—and no doubt greedy—people who wanted power and would die for it.
Verddra placed her hand on Lorrek's shoulder and locked eyes with him. “You know the detrimental results of magic infusion better than anyone else. Perhaps you would like to supervise the operation?” She lifted her brows as she removed her hand from him.
He narrowed his eyes. “And what part do you have in it?”
“I'm a consultant. These individuals know nothing of magic, so someone must oversee the operation and consult them.”
“So you want me to work for you?”
She shook her head as she came to stand in front of Lorrek. “With—not for. You would work with me, and together we can oversee this new development out of which nothing should be achieved. The Jechorians are too zealous in their thirst to further their technology because they lack magic altogether. For the time being, simply consider it, Prince Lorrek. You know where to find me if you concede.” With that, she turned and walked away, but before she reached the doorway of the arena, she disappeared in a swirl of wind, leaving Lorrek to stare at the empty doorway.
“Lorrek!” His father's voice rang in his head, and Lorrek snapped out of his thoughts and began walking.
“On my way, Father.” He knew he could magick straight to the throne room in no time, but he preferred to walk the corridors and give himself time to think over Verddra's proposal.
Segment 1
Lorrek couldn't breathe—not like he was underwater and couldn't breathe, or that there was no air to breathe, but rather it felt as though his lungs refused to expand to inhale the air. It hurt. He didn't understand. He wanted to gasp, but he couldn't move.
“Lorrek!!” Vixen's voice tore through his mind, yanking him out of the nightmare, and Lorrek sat up with a huge gasp.
He could breathe again. It was just a dream—just a dream.
But then he realized what had woken him—Vixen. Ever since Loroth's first close encounter with death due to his illness, Lorrek had bound Vixen and Loroth's minds to his own, so they always had a way to reach him despite distance. Now that Vixen resorted to this means of communication, he knew something had to be terribly wrong, and he magicked out of his bed straight to Loroth and Vixen's chambers.
Vixen was awake and had lit several candles, but she sat beside the figure of her husband, who lay too still for Lorrek's liking. When Lorrek appeared, Vixen snapped her fiery gaze up, and Lorrek vaguely noted how she wasn't wearing the blade vest. He thought that odd because ever since he had given it to her, he never saw her without it. Now draped in a robe, she rose to her feet and motioned sharply at her husband. “He's not breathing! Do something!”
Lorrek nodded his understanding. That explained the dream. Even though in his condition Loroth couldn't verbally speak across the bond, he reached out in dreams. Dismissing the horrid feeling of suffocation he had experienced in the dream, Lorrek moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside his cousin and reached for his forehead.
He reached into the endless reservoirs of his magic and focused on Loroth's lifeline, which was fading fast. Lorrek latched onto it and poured the healing power into the drained body of his cousin. Continuing to channel the healing magic into him, Lorrek took the opportunity to assess Loroth's true condition through the bond.
His cousin was a man who wore a single mask—that of strength, and he rarely backed down or gave into weakness. When Lorrek was elsewhere but his presence was needed, Loroth always stepped in without complaint and did whatsoever was necessary to neutralize the situation—even if it meant using his limited powers to persuade others to do what was required for all to be satisfied. And then there were times like in the arena when he would selflessly heal another, even if that individual was Lorrek. Because Loroth was a private man and never voiced a complaint or showed weakness, Lorrek often forgot about his illness and simply let him use his powers. Now he was berating himself for not stopping him sooner.
Finally, Loroth took a deep breath and opened his eyes, only to find his cousin staring at him with deep disapproval in his eyes.
Lorrek lifted his hand from Loroth's forehead and crossed his arms as he glared at him. He couldn't decide how best to scold him, so he leveled him with a single word, “Sleep.”
Loroth's face twitched as if he were going to protest, but his eyes closed, and he succumbed to slumber.
When Vixen moved to check her husband's pulse, Lorrek stepped back to reflect on what had just happened, but then she turned to him before he thought too much. “I tried what I could, but nothing worked. He almost died this time—”
Lorrek nodded at Vixen’s panicked words. “Just like last time, and the time before that, and the time before that,” he pointed out as his gaze fell back on his cousin's peaceful face, so he wouldn't see the fury in Vixen's face at his words. It was true, and each time Lorrek had been able to bring him back from the edge of death, but both knew it was only a matter of time before Lorrek would ultimately fail. Neither wanted that day to come.
Sucking in a long, defeated breath, Lorrek exhaled and hunched his shoulders. He knew what he had to do, but he wasn't sure how to approach it.
Vixen watched him then furrowed her brows when she saw his posture change. She recognized it after seeing the same defeated look on her husband's face time and again when he couldn't find the strength to do what he knew had to be done.
She narrowed her eyes and pulled away from Loroth to regard Lorrek. She placed her hands on her hips. “I know that look. You have an idea, and you can't pull it off on your own.” This earned her Lorrek's attention, and she leveled him with a look. “What do you have in mind?”
Lorrek sighed and cast a glance at Loroth. He hated the thought of separating husband and wife, especially when the situation was so delicate. He looked back to her. “I have been informed of a situation—an operation actually that might be able to save Lo, but I'm not entirely sure...”
As soon as he said 'save Lo', Vixen dropped her hands from her hips, and hope slowly dawned on her face, but she knew not to assume anything too quickly. “What is this operation?”
Lorrek hesitated. He didn't want to give her any false hope, and the less she knew the better. “I'm not entirely sure, but I will look into it.” He moved away, but she grabbed his arm and gave him a fierce look.
“You're going somewhere, aren't you?” All she needed to confirm this was his guilty look, and she tightened her grip on his arm. “And what happens if Lo stops breathing again?”
Phasing through her grip, Lorrek gently grabbed her arms and looked into her eyes. “You know how to contact me, and no matter what I am doing, I will magick back here and heal him. I must do this—for the both of you.” With that, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her forehead then stepped back and vanished in a swirl of wind.
Vixen stared at the now empty space, and then she shifted her gaze back to her sleeping husband. For a moment she held her own breath as she watched his chest to make sure it was rising and falling. Once she confirmed this, she sat on the edge of the bed with her back toward Loroth and placed her face in her hands.
This had been a close encounter. Before she married Loroth, she knew he was dying, and when he asked her to marry him, he told her he would understand if she refused, on the grounds that both of them knew he would die sooner rather than later. Even then she didn't answer him right away—never imagining herself as someone who would ever marry, and the condition of their marriage had been...unusual. Yet she came to love him although she only expressed it to him in private moments.
Now though, she trained herself to listen for his heartbeat and the feeling of his breath even in her sleep. The slightest i
rregularity woke her, and she knew to call Lorrek, but she also realized this couldn't go on forever. Either Loroth would die or something had to change.
With a deep inhale, she lifted her gaze to the ceiling and sighed. She knew what she had to do.
Lorrek reappeared in his own chambers and did not bother to take in his surroundings—all too familiar to him. Instead he marched straight to the dark wooden bookcase taking up an entire wall of his room. Some shelves held books of various sizes and rolled up scrolls while on other shelves sat dark glass vials and jars of pottery which all contained different concoctions of herbs for healing and magical purposes. He pulled a scroll from the shelf and then went to his desk and unfurled it, placing paper-weights at either end to keep it from rolling back up again.
Bracing his hands on the table, he leaned over and stared at his father's journal which chronicled his efforts to infuse magic into Loroth's unborn mind.
“...within the realms of magic, I saw the unborn child's mind—brilliant in intelligence and sharp with knowledge, but no magic rested therein. Finding the threads of unformed thoughts and the faintest trace of the imagination, I latched onto that and exposed the infant to my magic, hoping the simple exposure would bind his mind to magic...”
His father hadn't known if it would work, but it did; however, where there was a gain, there was a loss somewhere else, and Loroth's own body battled against itself to fight the invasion of magic.
Lorrek shook his head as he reread this account. He knew the consequences of infusing magic into a person. The Jechorian experiment was doomed to fail and kill many along the way. Why could no one else realize that?
Without waiting for a more appropriate time, Lorrek reached into the realms of magic and woke Countess Verddra out of her slumber with a wordless summon. She appeared in his chambers a moment later dressed in a white night robe, and Lorrek noted how she had even taken the time to cast a glamour spell upon herself to make her hair appear to be perfect rather than bedraggled.
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 23