Fixing his gaze on the dark haired woman walking in step with Theran, Aradin pondered Vixen. He had known of her from other thieves while growing up. They rarely spoke of her, but when they did, it was with utmost admiration. “The Baron of Alun is dead—Vixen. Her handiwork is unparalleled.” It was always a mention of death in the same sentence as Vixen's name, but it wasn't until Dustal discovered a grand opportunity to rob travelers coming from Cuskelom that they actually met her in person—riding with Prince Lorrek.
Aradin still chuckled when he recalled the memory and how confused Dustal was when only one individual rode the path at a steady pace. He had been convinced there would be at least two riders. Aradin didn't like the change of details, but he didn't have a chance to say anything to his brother when suddenly he saw a blade come to rest against Dustal's throat. Aradin looked at the blade's master then stared, stunned, to see the hardened features of Vixen. Her dark brown eyes locked onto him while she had a handful of Dustal's hair in her fist and her knife at his throat.
Before Aradin had a chance to think about kicking her away and disarming her, he felt a pressure around his whole body as if the earth had grabbed hold of him and refused to let him move. Startled, Aradin had managed to turn his head to the lone rider, who had pushed back his hood and was approaching.
“Gentlemen.” The man greeted them as if they were his guests, and Aradin instantly recognized him as Prince Lorrek of Cuskelom from the time they had tried to rob Lorrek and his friends on a road. It hadn’t gone as planned.
Although he had been unable to lift his hands due to the invisible restraints, Aradin talked their way out of the situation and then watched Vixen and Lorrek carry on their way. Once they were out of sight, Aradin whacked Dustal over the head for his stupidity, saying he should have investigated the job more before they began.
Looking back at that time so long ago, Aradin still wondered what went wrong. Vixen and Lorrek worked closely—along with that other man, Loroth, who had seemed very close with Vixen at one point. Now that he thought about it, Aradin wondered where Loroth was, but then again Lorrek wasn't around either. Maybe that was why Vixen was looking for the prince—she would find Loroth when she found Lorrek. No matter, Aradin trudged ahead, keeping his eye on Vixen and Theran's backs while Dustal had gone ahead to scout out the path.
Speaking of Dustal, Aradin lifted his head as he saw movement—beyond the rocks and in the woods of Nirrorm. He saw his brother hastening back toward them with worry etched on his face. Aradin frowned and jogged to catch up with the others as they approached Dustal.
“What's wrong?” Aradin heard Theran ask when Dustal stopped in front of them.
Dustal opened his mouth to reply but determined no words would do it justice. He shut his mouth and gestured for them to follow. “Come with me.”
Aradin caught the suspicious look Vixen sent him, but he shrugged and went after his brother.
They traveled into the woods. Coming to the top of a hill, Dustal motioned for them to crouch down and look through the trees below. “Is that who I think it is?” He directed the question to Theran as he looked at him.
Theran frowned when his eyes fell upon a familiar figure with someone unfamiliar. “Princess Mordora?” He called out as he rose to his feet—much to Aradin’s regret. The thieves remained out of sight while Vixen and Theran descended the tree lined hill. The brothers might have once or twice tried to break into the royal treasury of Nirrorm, and someone might have seen their faces, so they had no desire to face the princess of Nirrorm—at the moment. They would let Theran handle this.
“Mordora?” Theran called out again when he finally came to level ground, and by that time Mordora saw him.
“Theran!” She pushed past Jadkon's protective arm and rushed to the Cuskelom prince. Forgetting the angry terms on which they last saw each other, Mordora threw her arms around Theran's neck and held him tight. “It's terrible! They're gone, Theran. They're all gone! My father's dead.”
Theran pulled back and held her at arms' length, trying to understand what she was saying. His face crumpled into confusion and furrowed brows. “What?” He looked past her to the guardian, ignoring Aradin and Dustal, who were making their way down to their level. “What happened?”
Mordora opened her mouth to mention Lorrek, but for some reason his name refused to pass her lips, and she chose another set of words. “Countess Verddra was captured, and my father went into the woods to find her, and they were ambushed. Theran...” She searched his gaze as her eyes brimmed with unshed tears that she blinked back, trying not to cry. “They were all killed. Papa is dead.”
Hearing this tragedy, Theran bowed his head, recalling the day his own father had been killed. “And Moren?” He lifted his gaze back to her. “What of him?”
Again Mordora wanted to say how Lorrek went back for him, but silence bound her tongue, so she merely shook her head. “I...I don't know.” Tears choked her throat. “He was back in the palace!”
“Wait, did you say Countess Verddra?” Dustal stepped into the conversation. When Mordora nodded, he groaned and turned back to his brother. “That's it. I'm done. I don't ever want to cross paths with that woman again.” He folded his arms with a disgusted look on his face.
Vixen arched a delicate brow at his reaction. “What did she do to you? Forget to pay you your wages?”
Aradin shook his head but stood close to his brother. “Dustal's right. That woman is nothing but trouble—never trusted her. If she's involved in any of this, I wouldn't be surprised if she took over Nirrorm itself.”
At this moment, Jadkon stepped forward. “That's what we suspect, so that is why I refuse to allow Princess Mordora to return to the palace. We were told Cuskelom would offer her safe haven.”
At the mention of Cuskelom, everyone turned and looked at Theran, who stared at Jadkon with hardened eyes, his features set in determination against returning home without his brother.
Vixen already knew what he was going to say, so she took the conversation in her own hands by turning back to Mordora and the guardian, who she didn't recognize. “And you might be?” She fixed her gaze on the man.
“Guardian Jadkon.”
Vixen nodded. “Very well.” She looked at Aradin and Dustal. “Since you two are cowards and don't want to face Verddra, why don't you escort them to Cuskelom while the two of us investigate what has happened in Nirrorm?” They looked ready to protest, but her scowl offered no negotiation. Suddenly, Mordora remembered the thieves.
“You would honestly trust my safety with those thieves?” She glared at them but then stepped back—almost into Jadkon—and crossed her arms. “I prefer not to test that theory. I am quite safe with Guardian Jadkon.”
“I'd have you know—” Dustal began to argue, but Aradin grabbed his arm and gripped it tightly to silence him.
Aradin nodded to Vixen and to the princess. “Very well. Since we won't go to Nirrorm, and you don't need us to go to Cuskelom, we will head for Serhon.”
“To answer to your king and to give him a full account of your travels with Theran and your failure to find Lorrek?” Vixen lifted her brows only to earn a glare from Aradin.
“No—hopefully we won't even have to see the king, much less talk to him.”
“That man is mad.” Dustal shivered, but Aradin went on.
“We report to Prince Haskel and his sister Princess Gremina. They've been waiting to hear from us for a long time now.” Aradin held Theran's gaze, and the prince of Cuskelom nodded.
“Very well.” Theran stepped forward and clasped arms with Aradin and then with Dustal. “I discharge you of any oaths you have sworn to me during this journey, and I appreciate your companionship during that time. You are free to return to Serhon, and tell Haskel...” He hesitated—not certain what he would want to say to the friend he had lost ten years ago due to misunderstandings and poor judgment. Pressing his lips into a frown, Theran nodded and locked eyes with Aradin. “Tell Haskel—and Gremina—
I am truly sorry.”
Aradin nodded at these words and then to Vixen. “Pleasure working with you, m'lady.”
Vixen arched a brow at his sudden proper etiquette but nodded once. “I have a feeling it won't be too long before we meet again.”
Dustal smirked at her words. “Only because you won't be able to bear our absence!”
“Come along.” Aradin dragged his brother away from Vixen before she had a chance to stab him.
The others watched the brothers leave and then turned back to each other once more. Theran spoke first. “Is there anything we should be aware of in Nirrorm before we go, Princess Mordora?”
“Lorrek is there!” She wanted to say but only managed to shake her head. “No. I don't know what you can expect there.”
Theran frowned but bobbed his head and looked to Jadkon. He didn't recognize the man, but by the way the man stood protectively near Mordora, he knew she was in good hands. “Guardian Jadkon, when you arrive in Cuskelom, tell them Prince Theran has granted you access for sanctuary. Neither of my brothers should argue the point.” He opened his mouth to continue and say, “And tell them I'll be there shortly,” but he realized what he almost said and left it unsaid. He offered Mordora a smile. “We'll check on Nirrorm. You need not worry.” With that, he bowed to her then motioned for Vixen to follow.
“Theran, be careful.” Mordora stared after him, and he waved her a farewell then went on his way. The princess turned to continue on the path to Cuskelom with Jadkon beside her.
Jadkon fell into step with her and spoke in a lowered voice. “Why didn't you mention Lorrek?”
Mordora darted a glance over her shoulder to make sure that Theran was out of hearing range and then shot back in a whisper, “Because Lorrek used his magic to prevent me from saying anything. Why didn't you mention him?”
At this, Jadkon had nothing to say because his reason was the same.
12
Any who ventured deep into the heart of Athorim found the capital of the kingdom a stunning oasis with trees at every corner—almost a forest in the middle of the desert. With a hand on Moren's shoulder, Lorrek guided the boy under the black arch gateway of the city. “There are no guards,” Moren whispered to Lorrek, who nodded.
“Why do they need guards when the walls themselves are alive? Watch.” Lorrek reached out to the smooth black stone of the wall and sent a pulse of magic through it. Instantly, the stone lit up in an array of dancing colors which traveled through the rest of the wall like a child, running, playing, and laughing.
Moren shot the older prince a wild look, and Lorrek nodded his head and withdrew his hand—noting how no one thought his action strange. “Here, the earth lives. The city is alive and morphs and shifts everyday, but its main purpose is to protect those within. There is a reason why Athorim has never been breached.” Lorrek then steered Moren up some steps to a higher level of the city.
With wide eyes, Moren gazed at the flowering vines climbing the beautiful black walls. Shifting his gaze to the other side, the higher they walked, the more he saw the city spread out in the middle of the desert—square houses with flat roofs and trees surrounding them, streets cutting through the marketplace, neighborhoods, and communities. Red, blue, purple, white, orange, and yellow blossoming flowers and different shades of green plants were a stark contrast against the background of brown desert beyond the city.
Blond-haired people mingled through the city—greeting one another in passing, but one thing Moren noticed was, “They all look the same.”
“Pardon?” Lorrek slowed his step when Moren spoke.
The boy hastened to catch up with him then motioned to the people in the city. “Where are the poor? The peasants? They're all dressed in fine clothing even while doing commoner's work. Why is that?”
Lorrek grunted as he continued on his way. “Most possibly a glamour spell. No one wants to seem below another, so they give the appearance of being high ranking.” At Moren's confused look, Lorrek chuckled. “Not to worry. You will learn that soon enough.” He gestured for him to enter the palace—made of the varnished black stone like the city walls.
As soon as Moren stepped into the cool air of the palace, he whispered an amazed, “Wow...” as his gaze took in the sight of a shiny stone floor that cut a broad path straight down the middle of the corridor, and on either side was a long, clear pool of water. A breeze from the open windows rippled the water, sending it lapping against the black stone of the palace, and with each lap the walls burst alive with rings of colors.
“The water's magical?” Moren shot Lorrek a look, and a small smile tugged at Lorrek's lips.
“When was water not magical? It is the key of life. Without it, we die.” Then a thoughtful frown fell on his lips, and he furrowed his brows. “Strange—even in those lands, such as Nirrorm, where magic is forbidden, water is sought after and treasured.”
“But we get our water from the snow.”
“Which comes from the heavens.” Lorrek found this thought curious but pocketed it away for later contemplation. For the time being, he had more important matters on his mind as he led Moren straight to the throne room of Athorim.
It was as he remembered it—a massive square room with multiple levels. A wide long set of stairs—with several landings—led the way down to the center of the room where two thrones sat silhouetted against a massive work of stain-glassed windows. Lorrek ignored the cascading waterfalls bordering the stairs and landing into a silent pool at the bottom. His gaze fixed on the lone two individuals in the room and noted the presence of a third person was missing.
King Caleth—features smooth but ashen, hair long and blond, almost white—sat comfortably on his throne, leaning on one arm of the black stone throne. His golden crown—etched with runes—contrasted with his white features, making him appear ancient. However, it was not the king who caught Lorrek's attention, but the woman who stood before him with her back to Lorrek.
He recognized her wavy auburn hair—a trait shared by Honroth and Heldon but not Theran or himself. The regal way she held herself was unforgettable, and for a moment Lorrek allowed himself to believe that he was back to the time before anything had happened—before his father died, before he fell into the Orb of Oblivion, before everything went wrong. His mother, Queen Lorentha, was a kind and gracious woman. She appreciated Lorrek's magic when all others either shunned him or treated him with great caution. She embraced his gifts and encouraged him in his endeavors—often shielding him from his father's persistence that Lorrek master his magic now. Back then she had a brightness in her eyes that he thought could never be stolen, but now standing here behind her, Lorrek feared what he might see in her face when she turned around.
Instead, he fixed his eyes upon the king of Athorim and bowed. “King Caleth.” He noted how his mother still did not turn at his voice; she must have been instructed by Caleth not to move until the appointed time, however she did lift her hand to her mouth as if to silence a gasp. Lorrek narrowed his eyes upon the king and reached into the essence of magic that was flowing around them, unseen, to latch onto the thought trail of Caleth. “You knew I was coming.” All he received from the king was a nod of confirmation, so Lorrek shifted his gaze to his mother and then back to Caleth. “And did you tell her?”
“I said only that one of her sons would come today. Your brother just left a while ago.”
Lorrek narrowed his eyes. “Which brother?”
“Theran.” As if just realizing that they had an audience who could not hear their thoughts, Caleth cleared his throat and spoke with his voice. “Prince Lorrek, a pleasant surprise to see you back from the dead.”
Lorrek remained guarded. “You knew I was never dead.” The only affirmation he had of this was the slight smile that touched Caleth's ashen features.
Nonetheless, Caleth went on, “To what do we owe this visit?”
Remembering Moren beside him and his promise to keep the boy safe, Lorrek moved the child in front of himsel
f and placed his hands on both of Moren's shoulders. “King Caleth, this is Prince Moren of Nirrorm—son of the late King Wordan. I request sanctuary for him here in Athorim—and that he may learn to perfect the arts of magic.”
Caleth's gaze fixed upon the boy, and Moren tried his best not to shift under the intense stare, but he felt as though this king could see everything he had ever done or thought. Moren swallowed hard then forced himself to bend at the waist in a stiff bow, but he didn't say anything; he knew as a child he shouldn't speak unless spoken to.
Finally, Caleth shifted his golden eyes from Moren and back to Lorrek. Confusion clouded his face, but he reached into the stream of magic. “And what of his father?”
Relieved to cover the details in a private manner, Lorrek shared, “Nirrorm was attacked and overthrown by Countess Verddra. I managed to get Princess Mordora out first, and sent her to Cuskelom, but Athorim is the safest place for Moren—and he can learn magic from the finest.”
Caleth nodded when he heard this and sat back in his throne. “I will harbor the boy and see to his training in magic, but you must do something for me.” He motioned to the empty chair at his right hand. “You must go to Serhon and retrieve my sister, the Princess Anelm, for they have taken her captive and refuse to release her.”
Lorrek almost choked at the mention of Serhon, and he stiffened. Serhon: home of Princess Atheta and a lot of other complications. The fact that Princess Anelm had been captured by King Roskelem offered little consolation to Lorrek. He lifted his hands off Moren's shoulders and tucked his hands behind his back. “And why have they taken her?”
“Why else?” Caleth raised his brows. “She has pure magic.”
Lorrek nodded. That made sense. As the only one in the Kingdom of Serhon with magic, of course King Roskelem would seek alternative ways to make his power grow. When measured against Verddra, the similarities between the two were eerie. The only difference was that Roskelem was absolute king of Serhon and had three children, whereas Verddra was only a countess of a lost land and no longer had a husband or heirs. Yet both greatly desired more power than they already had.
Someday I'll Be Redeemed Page 12