Someday I'll Be Redeemed

by Kelly Blanchard

  Honroth tightened his fist but remained still.

  Before him, the wind gathered—twisting all the documents he had just reviewed—and the transparent figure of Countess Verddra appeared before him.

  He frowned when he saw her but knew she wasn't really here; she was using her magic to project herself elsewhere as Lorrek had often done. Ever a gracious host, Honroth relaxed his hand and felt the gauntlet turn back into the bracelet form. He sat back in his chair. “Countess.” He nodded to her—cautious.

  She fixed her golden eyes upon him and smiled slyly as she approached the desk. “King Honroth—my, how you have grown into a dashing young man.”

  Honroth kept his features neutral. “What do you want, Countess?”

  “I have quite a story to tell.” She watched the king's eyes narrow, and then she threw her head back with laughter before she began to pace around the room. “Yes, you see. I was meandering through the corridors of my castle when I came across a ghost. Tell me, Your Majesty, have you seen your little brother recently?” She turned back to him with a coy but cold smile.

  “He's dead.”

  Verddra's figure faded briefly but then solidified a little more as she approached the desk. “That is what I thought, but are you certain?” She braced her fingers on the table and leaned toward Honroth, who made no effort to move. “Because I could have sworn I saw him in the halls of Nirrorm—but only for a moment.”

  Honroth intertwined his fingers over his chest as he sat back in his chair and shook his head. “You must have been mistaken. Lorrek has been dead for the last ten years.”

  Her eyes blazed as her features hardened. “I do not make mistakes.”

  The king of Cuskelom merely lifted his brows but said nothing as the sorceress stepped back from his desk, paused to consider him one last time, and then vanished in a waft of wind.

  Once she was gone, Honroth allowed himself to exhale heavily. He never trusted the countess. When Lorrek had trained with her in the ways of magic, his youngest brother said very little of their sessions together, but one evening Lorrek emerged from the training ground so pale that his skin looked white against his black hair. Honroth happened to be returning from a discussion with their father when Lorrek had stepped out of the arena, and he noticed his brother's uneasy steps and instantly went to his side to steady him. Lorrek looked at him, surprised to see him, but then uttered one phrase Honroth never forgot. “She is darkness.” And then he collapsed, unconscious, forcing Honroth to carry him to his chambers rather than confronting the countess that evening, and ever since then the opportunity to confront her had never presented itself.

  Now, Honroth wondered what her reappearance meant—especially with her concern over seeing the ghost of Lorrek.

  Then he realized she had said that she had seen him in Nirrorm, and Honroth straightened in his seat and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and lifting his interlaced hands up to rest his chin as he furrowed his brows. What was she doing in Nirrorm? Of all places, why Nirrorm? It was one of the several kingdoms where magic was absolutely forbidden, so why would she go there? And had she called the castle her own?

  Determined to find out what was happening in the kingdom west of Cuskelom, Honroth looked at the bracelet on his wrist and touched the small smooth black stone embedded in it. In an instant he teleported himself from his chambers to Heldon's current location—the training hall, training with warriors and knights for battle.

  The warriors stepped back at the sudden arrival of their king, and Heldon frowned at the abrupt end to the training session and looked over his shoulder to see the reason for the interruption. When he saw Honroth and the dark look in his eyes, Heldon willed his handblade to sheathe itself into bracelet form and nodded his thanks to his sparring partner before turning and approaching his twin. “Honroth, have there been any developments in negotiations with Jechorm?”

  Honroth shook his head and watched the men resume their drills. “Nay, my brother, but I have an important task for you.” He shifted his gaze back to Heldon and hesitated.

  For a long time, Honroth had feared that Heldon would follow Theran's reckless path, but upon Lorrek's death and Theran's departure from the palace, Heldon had turned his life around and became an irreplaceable advisor for Honroth. Sometimes, Honroth sent Heldon to meet people while he was otherwise preoccupied. With the approaching war against Jechorm, Honroth felt he could not leave Cuskelom now to chase down the rumor of Lorrek in Nirrorm.

  He looked Heldon in the eye. His brother had proven himself a capable warrior; he would be safe. He would be careful, so Honroth nodded to himself. “I need you to go to Nirrorm.”

  Heldon creased his brows. “Nirrorm? Why?”

  Honroth pressed his lips into a thin line as he folded his arms and looked at the men training. “Countess Verddra is there. I have heard a rumor that she saw Lorrek—”

  Heldon widened his eyes. “Lorrek?” He then realized he spoke too loudly and glanced over his shoulder to the knights before turning to Honroth, grabbing his arm, and guiding him out of hearing range and into an outer corridor. Once alone, he released his twin's arm and smiled. “Lorrek is alive? This is wonderful! We should tell Theran—”

  “No.” Honroth cut him off. “I do not know if this is true, so we must find out for ourselves. I want you to go there—bring someone you trust, and then report back to me what is happening in Nirrorm.”

  Heldon regarded his brother and narrowed his eyes. “What's wrong, Honroth? What do you know that you're not telling me?”

  The king sighed—never able to hide uncertainty from Heldon, so he ducked his head. “I don't know.” He lifted his gaze to him and shook his head. “I just have a bad feeling. Be careful who you choose to accompany you. You have until noon to find someone. I will meet you in the Porta Cosmica. You will take the World Orb to Nirrorm. I do not want Verddra to sense your travel.” With that, Honroth touched the handblade on his wrist and returned to his chambers, but Heldon stared at the empty air where his brother had been standing.

  The younger prince knew his twin was wise and often had the foresight many leaders lacked. His unease bode ill for Heldon, but Heldon knew that Honroth trusted him to take care and avoid danger. However, he had given him permission to seek out a companion for this trip, and Heldon knew just the individual though she was not among the men in the training hall.

  Picking up his pace, he walked down the corridor, touched the handblade on his wrist, and vanished from sight.

  Far beneath the walls of the palace of Cuskelom, but far from the Porta Cosmica, Heldon reappeared. He stood in the warm glow of many torches and candles that made this murky place more pleasant. Walking through the arching corridors, he took in the vibrant drapes of red, green, orange, blue, and purple that hung from pillar to pillar. Thick fur rugs covered the stone floor, muting his footsteps, and he noted the low tables surrounded by colorfully embroidered pillows.

  “Prince Heldon.” A woman's voice sounded behind him, and he turned to see the lovely face of Erita—the chief mage of Cuskelom after Lorrek. She must have seen the look in his eyes because worry flooded her fair features as she took a step toward him. “Heldon, what's wrong?” She reached out and touched his arm.

  He sighed, lowering his gaze for a moment, and then looked back up at her. “We need to go to Nirrorm, Erita. There is word that Lorrek might be there.”

  Her brown eyes widened. “Of course! Then let us be off.”

  Sensing the movement of magic in the air, Heldon took her hand off his arm and shook his head. “We're taking the World Orbs. It won't be tracked by magic.” At her confused expression, he nodded at her. “Prepare what you need. Verddra is there as well.” When he said this, Erita's face darkened with a frown, and she nodded her understanding. Heldon watched her go then lifted his gaze to the low ceiling of this place and let out a heavy breath.

  Few in the palace of Cuskelom had the gift of magic. Other than Lorrek and Erita, Heldon knew of one
other—Inecha, but she was very reluctant to use her abilities unless Honroth personally asked her to. This made Erita the royal mage since Lorrek's death, and when she had requested to have lower levels of the palace where no one ventured anymore, Honroth agreed. Heldon came down here often and watched Erita transform the dark and damp setting into a warm haven that he found himself drawn to when issues of the court and matters of his family weighed heavily on his soul. Erita always offered him a listening ear and sound advice though there was only so much she could do to resolve situations.

  “Wish you were here, Lorrek,” he whispered to the air, but then turned when he heard Erita approaching him.

  She smiled at him. “Ready?”

  He nodded and reached for her out-stretched hand. In a swirl of smoke, they vanished as he let her use her magic to take them to the Orbs.

  Once their surroundings fell back into place, Heldon recognized the familiar chamber of the Orbs within the Porta Cosmica, and his gaze fell upon Honroth. He was surprised to see the woman beside him—Inecha. She stood close to Honroth—a comfortable closeness. She wore a high collared dress that gave the appearance that her chin always was held high. She had her hands tucked in front of her and shoulders pulled back with a regal presence, and Heldon remembered she would have been a princess of Talhon if her mother's marriage to King Damaen had been approved by the court. However, since they did not see her as legitimate and preferred her younger brother, Kinnard, to rule in her stead, she found a home in Cuskelom.

  Without even looking at Erita beside him, Heldon sensed the two sorceresses share a look and a nod before Inecha shifted her gaze to him and gave him the slightest of smiles.

  “Prince Heldon.”

  He nodded his greeting but then looked at Honroth. He wanted to ask what Inecha was doing here, but they had more important things to settle.

  Honroth motioned for them to approach a specific bluish white orb beside him. “Remember, try not to be seen by anyone. Your task is simply to scout out the situation and report back to me. If you're not back within a few days, I will know something is wrong.” He placed a hand on Heldon’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Be careful, my brother.”

  Heldon lifted his hand, placed it on Honroth's shoulder, and met his gaze. “I shall.” He then removed his hand as the handblade transformed into a gauntlet already sensing the presence of the Orbs.

  While Heldon took his position near Nirrorm's orb, Honroth nodded to Erita and offered her a warm smile. “I'm glad Heldon chose to take you. At least I know someone will have his back.”

  Erita chuckled. “In case you have failed to notice, he can hold his own quite well, Your Majesty,”

  Honroth shook his head with a smile. “Nay, Milady, I know his abilities well, but I also know his soft heart.”

  “I will keep him safe, Sire.”

  “I know you will.” With nothing more to say, Honroth stepped away and watched her stand beside his brother. The two looked back at him and joined hands before Heldon brought his gloved hand down upon the white orb. They disappeared in a swirl of snow and cold wind.

  Once they were gone from sight, Honroth exhaled and lowered his gaze. He felt a hand on his shoulder and lifted his eyes to find Inecha watching him with concerned eyes.

  “They shall be well,” she tried to reassure him, and he nodded but couldn't find the words to confirm this, so he merely looked back at the whitish blue sphere, watching the colors swirl on its smooth surface.

  He couldn't shake the ill feeling in his stomach.

  Still holding hands, Heldon and Erita materialized out of a swirl of snow in the middle of a corridor in the palace of Nirrorm—surrounded by armed men whose spears all pointed at them. Heldon frowned. “I hate that we can't quite control where the Orbs land us!” The sword of his handblade emerged from the gauntlet, but Heldon wasn’t interested in fighting. Instead, he barred an arm in front of Erita to keep her out of sight, but when she scowled at him, he realized she was more than capable of defending both of them. He pulled his arm back to himself only to find that he was unable to move. Something restricted his body—an unseen force.

  Forcing down panic, he was about to ask the meaning of this, but the sound of laughter stopped any words from escaping his lips. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the men part for the Countess Verddra—dressed in her fine garments of black and plated gold.

  On her head sat a sharp crown that almost appeared like a weapon itself, and Heldon swallowed the bile in the back of his throat and fixed his gaze on her laughing golden eyes—noting her flawless features; somewhere in his memory he recalled Lorrek's voice telling him, “She's not as beautiful as she appears. It's simply a glamour illusion. You should see the way I see her.” His voice had been full of disgust, and this gave Heldon confidence as he faced her, but he didn't try to have the first word.

  She circled them—slow, self-assured, and in absolute control. When she finally came to stand in front of them again, she smiled. “Just as I expected. So good of King Honroth to send his twin brother to me.” She fixed her gaze on Heldon, noting that the handblade was activated. “Sheathe your sword before someone gets hurt, little prince.”

  Heldon shook his head as best he could in the restraints of her magic. “I...can’t do that.”

  “Of course you can,” she spoke as though to a child. “Will your blade away.”

  He locked frustrated eyes with her and almost laughed. “It doesn’t work that way. The handblade can sense I’m in danger, and it won’t revert to its natural form until I’m out of danger. So if you want the blade to sheathe, you’ll have to let me go.”

  Verddra observed him for a long time, and, for the first time, Heldon was grateful for the stubbornness of the handblade. Usually it had bad timing and blew any cover the princes of Cuskelom might have had, but sometimes they could keep the sword from emerging while the gauntlet itself stayed on their hands.

  Heldon looked at Verddra to see what she would do.

  At last, she gifted him with a tight smile then snapped her fingers, releasing her invisible magical restraints from Heldon. “There now. See? I mean you no harm.”

  Heldon thinned his eyes, not believing her for a moment, but he saw the blade of his handblade slide back. However, the gauntlet remained on his hand and did not revert to bracelet form. From this, he understood he wasn’t in immediate danger, but the handblade itself didn’t trust Verddra. The prince of Cuskelom locked eyes with the Countess. “Why the cold welcome?”

  Again, she smiled at him. “We can never be too careful.” Then she turned to her chief guard—a man Heldon recognized as his cousin, Therth, and this surprised him. “Take them to the dungeon, and make sure Prince Heldon does not touch that handblade on his wrist.” She nodded to it.

  The man approached Heldon and yanked his arms behind his back, but kept Heldon's hand from touching his handblade. Meanwhile, another man secured Erita. Therth looked between his prisoners then to Verddra. “What about the sorceress? Her powers?”

  The countess stared at her, and a smile touched her lips. “Oh, don't worry. She is not powerful at all, and she will stay close to Heldon out of commitment to him. Not only that, but no magical beings can use their magic to teleport to or from this palace without my approval.” She chuckled when Erita fought against her restraints unsuccessfully. Verddra shook her head and drew near to the younger sorceress. Placing a finger under Erita's chin, she lifted the girl's gaze up to meet her own, and Verddra smiled once more—ready to devour her. “You are nothing here. You are weak—no match for me.” With that, she released Erita's chin and stepped back, then vanished from sight.

  Relieved that the main threat was gone, Heldon allowed his captors to guide him through the corridors, but he turned his head back to see the man who he had considered family. “Therth, why are you doing this?”

  His cousin said nothing but marched with the others to take them to the dungeon.

  11

  “Tell me again why
you couldn't just teleport us into Nirrorm? Isn't that what that bracelet of yours is supposed to do?” Aradin heard his brother ask as they climbed yet another rocky hill toward the forests which bordered Nirrorm.

  Theran saw Vixen unsheathe a blade and turn to Dustal, but the eldest Cuskelom prince grabbed her wrist before she could stab the younger thief. He shook his head. “He might still prove useful.”

  She narrowed her eyes, refusing to stand down. “He has yet to be of any use at all.”

  Still beckoning for her to calm down, Theran released her then glanced over at Dustal. “The science of the handblades isn't fully understood, so we can't always make them take us to exact locations—except for home. If that is our desired location, the handblade will, without fail, take us there. Everywhere else...it'll get us either there or close to it, so keep walking and stop complaining.”

  Trailing Vixen, Theran, and Dustal over the rocky hills on the border of Nirrorm, Aradin took the opportunity to consider his company and reflect. He never cared too much for Theran or his brothers, but he tolerated them because they were friends with Prince Haskel of Serhon, and Haskel had personally assigned Aradin and his brother to accompany Theran on his quest to find Lorrek. When Aradin first heard the request from his prince, he balked at the thought, “But he's dead! Lorrek isn't coming back.” However, Haskel refused to give in, and for the last five years Aradin and Dustal had tagged along with Theran on this pointless adventure. Aradin partly thought it was Haskel's ingenious way of ridding his father's kingdom of the two thieves.

  Yet, as time went on—picking fights in taverns with Theran, sharing a camaraderie with the Cuskelom prince—Aradin grew to respect him as an individual who never used his title over anyone he met, even if it would make their passage easier. When they encountered a stubborn official refusing to release them from a public cell, Dustal and Aradin always tried to convince them that Theran was a prince, but Theran remained silent, sitting on the bench waiting. Without fail, Vixen would retrieve them from the prison.