Shifting her gaze back to the castle, she nodded. “Haiken—your shielding. Cast it over all of us. Priam, if anyone comes near, blind them or make them deaf. Anita—”
“Be invisible and stalk the perimeters.” She nodded and faded from sight.
“Zoyra, when we get to the gate, I want you to unlock it—”
A sudden explosion knocked them off their feet, and Vixen jumped back to her feet, unsheathed several daggers then looked around to see what had happened. Her eyes landed on Lorrek and a little further back behind him was her father. She saw the scorch marks on her father’s clothes as well as the blood stains and the fatigue draining color from his face. He couldn’t keep this up much longer. “Papa!”
Sirros lifted his gaze, startled at the sound of his daughter’s voice, but in front of him, he saw Lorrek stiffen then slowly turn to her, conjuring a fiery orb in his fist. “Vixen, watch out!”
“Oh, no you don’t!” Wol’Van stepped forward, unsheathing a blade from beneath his jacket, and threw it at at Lorrek.
However, the blade passed straight through him and struck Sirros in the chest.
Sirros looked down at it then up at his family.
He saw their horrified faces—especially the stunned look of Wol’Van. Vixen screamed something—it looked like she yelled, “Papa!” She tried to run to him, but his wife grabbed her and tried to block her, but Vixen shook her off and darted for her father as he sank to his knees.
She moved to run past Lorrek, but suddenly Lorrek grabbed her arm and magicked away with her.
Having his daughter whipped from him was greater than the pain of the blade in his chest, and Sirros collapsed to the ground, vaguely aware of the footsteps hastening up to him.
Soon Nyvera dropped to a knee beside him and set to work on stopping the bleeding. “You’re going to live, Sirros. I’m not going to let you die.” She moved her hand to the blade ready to pull it out, but Sirros stilled her hand.
“Vixen...”
Tears pricked her eyes as she looked at him and brushed his dark hair out of his sweaty face. “I know...I know.”
Sirros gasped for breath then leaned his head onto the ground back to stare at the sky while his wife and Wol’Van worked to save him. All around them the Guardians took up station, and Haiken maintained a shield over them, but Sirros could only stare.
Lorrek magicked them beyond the fighting. As soon as they reappeared, Vixen threw herself away from him and sank into a fighting stance while cautiously taking in her surroundings. A field—somewhere, but no sounds of battle reached her ear, so it had to be far from the battlefield. Her gaze noted a haze on the horizon like smoke, and she nodded to herself, “Still in Cuskelom—just away from the others.”
Then she fixed her eyes on Lorrek, who stood before her aloof, watching her, regarding her. Her hand moved to her bladed vest, but she knew none of her blades would harm Lorrek. Nothing would hurt him. “Why do you wait?” She straightened from her defensive posture and spread out her arms. “You wanted to kill me, so here I am.”
Lorrek raised his brows at her. “I have no qualms against killing an unarmed individual.”
“Good, because as an assassin I killed plenty of unarmed and unsuspecting people especially in their sleep.” She shook her head and couldn’t keep the small smile from her face. “I suppose this is what you call poetic justice.”
Still, Lorrek made no move to attack her, and she knew he would only need to lift a finger to end her life. The longer he lingered, the more unsettled she became because the look he wore on his face—the look of concealed uncertainty—reminded her so much of Loroth when he had to make a difficult decision in Lorrek’s place, and that resurrected buried pain in her heart.
“Loroth was your cousin, but he was identical to you.” Her random statement caught Lorrek off guard, and he gave her a quizzical look. She nodded. “He was a year younger than you, and you had already displayed the ability of magic, so your father—also a sorcerer—infused magic into Loroth before he was even born, and that made him ill his whole life. He almost died several times, but you were always there to heal him and bring him back. In the end, he still gave his life to save you.” She approached him and came to stand close to him, staring up into his face. “I wonder if he still would have done so if he knew you would stand here now and kill me. He must have believed you had something to live for—something to accomplish.”
Lorrek stared down at her. “And I suppose you will never know.” In a flash, he snatched a blade from off her vest and moved to drive it into her heart, but Vixen was too quick. She twisted her body and grabbed the blade from him. Because he was not solid her hand went through his hand, but the blade remained solid, and she snatched it out of his grip and drove it straight into him.
Passing through her, he lifted another blade off her vest and spun around as she did the same, and their blades crossed. They locked eyes, and Lorrek smiled. “This is more like it.” He slashed the blade at her, but she leapt back, parrying the dagger over and over again.
In Jechorm, unrest stirred in the streets. Holographic screens everywhere still displayed the ‘Guardian Games’—or the war as that Ceras person claimed it was. People spoke in lowered voices, leaning in close so no one would hear them and determine how they sided. In the tavern, they looked over their shoulder at the sound of someone new entering, and all conversation halted. Once the individual shrugged off the stares and went to the counter, all the patrons slowly resumed their conversations, and then they started to stir.
In the Guardian tower, Ceras followed Lyston’s precise directions, and Aden walked in step with her brisk pace. Along the way they met guards but easily dispatched them, and Ceras took twins pistols from one guard then caught Aden’s amused look. She leveled him with a dry look. “I miss my poison, but this will simply have to do.” They set off walking again.
Suddenly lights in the corridors dimmed then flashed as alarms sounded, and Aden and Ceras took cover near the closest wall. “Lyston?” Aden hissed at him, bringing his hand to his ear to hear better. “What happened?”
“Trying to find out, boss.” Lyston sounded intense in focus but then ‘hmm’ed.
“What is it?” Ceras rested the back of her head against the wall behind her as she held the pistols up ready for an attack.
“Look out the window.”
Puzzled by Lyston’s vague response, Ceras shared a look with Aden then glanced to the window across the way. They would be exposed if they went over to the other side of the hall, but they trusted Lyston to watch over them. With a quick glance left then right, they rushed to the glass wall and looked down—down, down.
Aden frowned. “What’s happening?”
In the control room, Lyston expanded a holographic screen in the air with his fingers then zoomed in on the scene outside. People fought in the streets, striking one another, hitting each other, and striving against each other. “It looks like a fight broke out just outside a tavern, and now people are jumping into hovering vehicles and racing around the city, shooting up stuff and purposely crashing into the glass fronts.” He winced as a vehicle slammed into a building and skidded half way through the room. The people from the building rushed to the car, yanked the driver out, and began beating him up, but the driver fought back.
A Breaking News Report interrupted the usual feed, and Galvin was laughing at something said off camera but quickly composed himself as he went on air. “It appears a riot has broken out in the center of town. The police and armed forces are being called in to contain the situation, but in the meanwhile you are urged to remain in your homes. It seems as though our systems were hacked, and a rogue message was broadcasted earlier. There is no cause for alarm. It was a simple prank—the Guardian Center has confirmed it was just a ploy to get us to feel sympathetic to the rebel Guardians, so there is no need to overreact. It was just a harmless joke—”
“No.” Meka rose to her feet, not looking at her co-anchor but also not meet
ing the unblinking eye of the camera. “It wasn’t.” With that, she walked away.
“Meka!” Galvin called after her. “Meka, come back. Where do you think you’re going?”
The camera followed her exit, but she paused and looked back at Galvin. Without a word, she went back to him then slapped him across the face. As he sat stunned, she jutted her chin at him. “That was for our child. I’m sure your wife will love to know of the affair we had two years ago.” Then she turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving everyone stunned.
“Lyston!” Ceras’s voice snapped Lyston’s attention back at the matter at hand. “What’s going on?”
Lyston chuckled. “It looks like your little rant just exposed an affair on live television.” But realizing neither Ceras nor Aden understood what he meant and that he didn’t have time to explain, he shook his head and returned to the original issue. “Pelham used his authorization code to activate more Guardians and ordered them to all entrances of the building because it appears that the citizens of Jechorm are trying to break in.”
“Hmm, well then...” Ceras cast Aden a look and smiled. “Let’s help a little, shall we? Do you have their location yet?”
“Yes. You need to go two more floors up, take the first corridor on your left, go to the end, and they’re in the room directly at the end.”
“Understood.” Ceras nodded then readied her guns and glimpsed at Aden. “Let’s go.”
In the bloody fields of battle in Cuskelom, King Roskelem stood in the center of stone statues that had been soldiers who had come charging at him. He shook his head and tsked. “They never learn.” He then sighed and placed his hands on his hips as he looked around at the chaos, seeking the face of one in particular—Verddra. He had yet to see her after the initial meeting before that castle rose out of the ground.
By simply looking at it he sensed the enormous magic swirling within the walls, and that mystified him. He noticed how most of the fighting stayed away from the castle, so he narrowed his eyes. They were cowards—all of them, but he was not. He would prove them all wrong.
Spreading out his hands, he reached for the minds of all his men, including Haskel but not Gremina. “Attack the castle!”
Haskel did not spare his sister a glance as he turned to obey his father’s command. He found a waiting horse and mounted then looked down at the soldiers around him. “Follow me!” The men fell into step as he led the way though Roskelem stayed back with Gremina.
Narrowing her eyes on her father, Gremina hugged her arms closed to herself and moved away from him. She didn’t like this—none of it. This was wrong—all of it. She shook her head then went for another horse. “Haskel—” Her father grabbed her by the arm, and she looked down at his grip then up at his face—fury blazing in her eyes. “Are you mad? Let me go!”
“Gremina, you will stay.” He bound his words with a spell and saw the struggle in her soul as he bent her will to his. Looking back at the force galloping toward the castle, Roskelem knew Haskel was wise and could handle himself, but something about the black walls of the castle seemed foreboding to him, and he left one thought unspoken to Gremina, “I refuse to lose you as well.”
Closer and closer Haskel rode with his men, cutting through the soldiers of the different armies. They rode straight for the castle.
Heldon cried out as he was flung back by a blast of Verddra’s magic, but this time he did not climb to his feet immediately. He groaned then turned over onto his stomach and placed his hands on the cool floor to push himself up. Glimpsing at both his hands, he noticed how his handblades pulsed with bright white magic that he constantly absorbed from Verddra’s attacks; that had served him well, but he knew he could only last so long against the sorceress.
“Where is Lorrek when I need him?” He sighed then rose to a knee but heard hastening footsteps, so he snapped his gaze up—worried for whoever might stumble upon their fight by accident.
A man in black armor appeared at the top of the stairs and took in the situation, and Heldon knitted his brows. Though he couldn’t see his face, he recognized his posture, “Theran?” Broken ribs jabbed in his chest, and Heldon winced, bringing his fingertips to lightly press on the injury, but he didn’t know if he should be relieved or concerned by Theran’s appearance. “Theran, watch out—”
“No more talking, shall we?” Verddra swirled her fingers and conjured an orb then spun around and blasted it at Theran, knocking him back against a wall with a startled cry.
“No!” Heldon jumped to his feet. “Theran, drop!” He crossed both arms over his chest then whipped them out, sending an arched blast of power at Verddra.
Theran saw the power rushing straight for him as he stood against the wall, and he widened his eyes and slid down the wall almost to a prone position. In front of him, he watched Verddra cry out as the blast traveled through her and knocked her to her knees.
Holding her stomach in pain, Verddra ground her teeth then clenched a fist, which lit with blue fire. “Enough of you!” She twisted around to strike Heldon, but Theran dove for her.
He wrapped his powerful arms around her from behind and listened as her arms broke. With a scream, she whipped her head back so hard she almost whacked Theran in the face, and he let her go, not wanting to break any other bones unless he could kill her. He couldn’t do that until she healed Honroth
She spun around to him in an awkward way without moving her arms, and her nostrils flares as she inhaled heavily through her nose and exhaled through her clenched teeth. “I don’t need my hands to kill you.” With that, she narrowed her eyes on Theran, but Heldon was already moving, running for her while lifting his arm to sweep his blade down upon her, but she finished muttering a spell which sent both men flying back into the walls behind them.
Then Verddra lifted her gaze to the sky—her face tense with pain from her broken arms, but she channeled that into anger and began to chant.
Clouds above them began to gather.
On the field, Fawn moved as if in a dance, grabbing one soldier by the hand, whipping around him, kicking another in the face, then twisting the wrist of the first so that it snapped, and then she kicked him in the back sending him to the ground. Continuing her momentum, she kept turning, planted a palm strike in one man’s chest, and when he doubled over she grabbed his head and slammed it down upon her knee.
Faster and faster she moved with fluidity and grace.
A warrior shot an arrow at her, but she twisted, snatched it out of the air, looked at it then at the archer then snapped it between her fingers and stretched out her hand, blasting the man back.
More and more soldiers from different armies charged at her, but she countered every strike with a rhythmic and beautiful grace. Faster and harder she defended herself and never appeared to tire or grimace—not even when she was struck in the chest by a much larger warrior though it knocked her back a few steps right into another soldier, who wrapped his arms around her.
Using this to her advantage, Fawn picked her feet off the ground, pushed back against the man holding her and kicked at the man in front of her. Once he was out of the way, she pulled her lower body up and over the head of the man holding her, forcing him to break his hold on her, and she pushed off his back, shoving him into the other soldiers.
She landed low with her hand balanced on the ground, and then she smiled up at the soldiers surrounding her. Narrowing her dark sapphire eyes, she blasted them away, and they shouted in surprise as they fell back.
Satisfied, she rose to her feet, brushed off her hands then noticed the churning clouds in the sky above her. Thinning her eyes, she tapped into the realm of magic and found the source of the storm coming from a specific tower on the east side of the castle, and she sensed Verddra’s signature.
She frowned.
“Disappointing, isn’t it?” Roskelem’s voice behind her made Fawn swirl around, and she saw the king of Serhon mounted on his horse. He leaned forward on his saddle in a casual manner and smirk
ed at her. “Your dear old mother is not much different from me or even you in that case, and don’t you find it ironic that she gave you her magic, and you gave me your magic, and we’re all here—together? It’s almost as if we are family in a way—by magic instead of blood.”
All humor drained from his face, and disgust replaced it. Pulling back on his saddle, he considered Fawn for a moment then nodded to himself and dismounted.
Once on equal footing, he flicked his wrist in Fawn’s direction, and she steeled herself for impact only to feel nothing and hear a cry behind her. Glimpsing over her shoulder, she saw a warrior fall to the ground, and then she fixed her gaze upon Roskelem once more.
He shrugged. “Care for a dance, my dear?” He blasted her, and she was flung back, but in mid-air she gathered magic around herself, slowed her fall, and landed lightly on her feet. He stared at her, perplexed, with a hint of concern for himself, and she smiled.
“Gladly.” Then she blasted him.
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Vixen moved quickly—block, block, parry, step, turn, strike at the side of the throat, riposte to stab his stomach, snatch another blade off her vest and strike at her from the right side. Lorrek went through the motions without worrying about having any attacks of her land on himself. The blades always passed through him, so Vixen’s only real option was to parry the blade itself, and Lorrek allowed such a tedious fight to continue.
Parry, strike, feint, thrust in, riposte, he went on—eyes never widening with surprise or narrowing with concern. His face remained unreadable, and his eyes dull with boredom.
If this was the woman Roskelem ordered him to kill, why was she so important to him? What had she done? Lorrek parried again and again—each time riposting with his own attack, but his thoughts dwelt on the mystery of this woman, and he blinked to look at her again, past all the blur of hands and blades.
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 70