At her words, Honroth rose to his feet and gestured for Inecha to step forward, and she did without complaint, dropping to a knee beside Therth's head.
While she worked to unweave Erita's spell, Vixen looked back at Honroth. “Also, we ran into Princess Mordora a few days back—”
“She has arrived safely but has yet to give her full account of what happened.” Honroth kept his focus on Therth, but then he realized Vixen was still sitting on the floor, so he offered her a hand.
Seizing the hand, she pulled herself up to her feet. “Someone needs to go and retrieve King Wordan's body for burial. It's being preserved by magic, but I don't know how long that spell will hold.” She watched Inecha's work then added, “Also, Theran's expecting reinforcements. He isn't expecting to hold off Verddra for very long.”
Honroth sighed and shook his head. “But I am on the verge of war with Jechorm. I cannot simply redirect my army! I wouldn't be facing this war in the first place if it wasn't for Theran surrendering that handblade to Jechorm.” He motioned to the bracelet on her hand. He then paused and frowned. “Why do you have it, anyway?”
She looked at the bracelet then at the king. “Because he still doesn't feel worthy of it.”
“Still, he needed it for something, and he should have asked me instead of promising it to Jechorm.”
For a long moment, Vixen stared at the brother who had taken on the role of king and carried the responsibility well. That was when she realized that Honroth had absolutely no idea the angle at which Theran had played his hand. Then again, Theran never made much sense anyway. “Honroth, I don't know his reasons, and I don't know why he stuck me with it, but I do know he needs you—so does Heldon.”
Honroth clenched a fist and set his jaw. Next time I see him...He didn't need to finish the thought, even in his head. The issue of the handblade, and now Heldon, along with the looming war against Jechorm—Honroth didn’t want to think of it. “You cannot expect me to simply withdraw all my forces. We are on the brink of war.”
“Your brothers need you.”
Honroth squeezed his eyes shut and then let out a heavy breath before opening his eyes to look at Vixen once more. “My kingdom needs me. I can, perhaps, spare a few men, but, due to Theran’s recklessness in retrieving his handblade, I have a war on my hands. The Jechorians are not so forgiving with the wrong dealt to them.”
Vixen lifted her brows as she crossed her arms. She tilted her head to a side. “Even if Theran himself apologies to the Jechorm senate?”
Honroth narrowed his eyes. Theran was in Nirrorm. What was Vixen talking about?
Therth's groan caused all eyes to fall upon him, and a slow smile crept across Vixen's face. She looked back at Honroth. “Oh, I think he owes you one.” She pointed at Therth.
Honroth frowned at first, not understanding her meaning, but then he caught on and nodded, crouching in front of Therth's face as he opened his eyes. A cold smile touched Honroth's lips. “Hello, cousin.”
Therth locked eyes with his cousin and saw that look in his eyes. He knew it meant nothing good, so he closed his eyes and grunted.
16
After disappearing from the forest, Erita had followed Verddra's magical signature, and with a gust of wind Erita appeared in the ballroom of Nirrorm's palace with Theran—posing as Therth. Torches and candles lit the once darkened chamber, and cobwebs still draped from candlestick to candlestick and in the top corners of pillars while dust blanketed the cracked marble floor.
Theran's gaze fixed on Verddra, who meandered through the center of the room as if admiring its wreckage. He knew that at the snap of her fingers it could all be repaired, but for some reason she waited.
“Ah, Lady Erita—you are back.” Verddra's voice drew Theran out of his thoughts, and he remembered that he was supposed to be a mere guard here rather than Erita's friend.
Grabbing Erita's arm, he dragged her toward the queen. For a moment he didn't know what to say to make himself seem like Therth, but then he remembered that Therth was a quiet man when he was in uneasy situations, so he said nothing at all as he dropped Erita at Verddra's feet and stepped back, folding his arms.
Verddra arched a delicate brow and then reached down, offering Erita a hand. When the younger sorceress looked at her hand doubtfully, Verddra only returned the stare until Erita took the hand and rose to her feet. “There.” Verddra smiled. “Much better. Now we're on equal ground. Tell me, Erita, did you find Prince Lorrek's signature?”
Theran fought hard to keep his face blank. He had forgotten that Erita had been sent to the forest for a purpose, and he wondered for himself what she had found.
“I only caught the faintest trace of his signature in the forest, Your Majesty.”
Theran realized what she had said, and he stood up straighter. Lorrek is alive?
Erita continued. “But it could have been left over traces from long, long ago. It was incredibly faint, and it had no direction.”
Verddra thinned her eyes and began to pace. “Are you saying he is alive?” She turned back to Erita in one sharp movement. “Or is he dead?”
Erita lifted her hands in a hopeless shrug. “I know not. Prince Lorrek was a powerful sorcerer during his time, and if he were still alive, he might have known how to mask his signature.”
Pressing her lips into a thin line, Verddra paced once and then twice in front of them and finally locked eyes with Theran as she passed before them once more, but she spoke to Erita. “That must be very difficult for his brother to hear.” A smile touched her lips. “Guards!”
Theran's eyes widened when he realized she had identified him, and he moved to stand protectively in front of Erita as the guards stormed the room. Theran looked at his right where the guards stood, and then to his left where Verddra stood, and he felt helpless because he knew he couldn't protect Erita from both threats.
Verddra's laughter rang in the air, stilling all movements and chilling the blood in everyone’s veins. She looked upon Theran with cold amusement and a predatory smile. “Not to worry, Prince Theran. Nothing shall happen to Lady Erita. I'm merely sending her down to be with your dear younger brother. I am sure he is quite lonely now. It is you with whom I wish to speak.” At her gesture, some guards seized Theran's arms to prevent him from helping Erita as the other guards grabbed her and dragged her out of the ballroom.
Theran struggled against his restraints as they took Erita away. “Let me go!”
Verddra lifted a calming hand. “Not yet.” She kept her hand poised until Erita was out of sight, and then she motioned for the guards to release Theran and leave them. Once Theran had shaken them off and glared at them, Verddra chuckled as she considered the eldest prince of Cuskelom. “Thank you for coming, Prince Theran. I knew I could count on you.”
He scowled at her while his hands became fists at his sides. “What are you talking about?”
She tsked her tongue as she began to circle him. “I knew Cuskelom would not be able to mind its own business when another kingdom so near to home was attacked—especially a kingdom of friends. I was expecting someone to be sent here. Imagine my disappointment when your brother sent Heldon first—as if he could be of any aid to me.”
“Heldon is more resourceful than you give him credit for. You'll be surprised at what he can do.”
“Perhaps.” Verddra inclined her head in acknowledgment but then lifted her gaze back to Theran. A sneer twisted her features. “Yet he refuses to remove his handblade from his person, and I have given great consideration to cutting off his hand to remove the bracelet.” When she saw how Theran stiffened at this, she laughed at him. “Worry not, Prince Theran, I haven't acted upon such rash impulses—though I have been tempted to. I merely need your help.”
Theran narrowed his eyes. “There is no conceivable way you could have known I would magick back here with Erita.”
Verddra smiled. “You're right. I didn't know—at least, not for certain, but I have many, many versions of my plans.”<
br />
“Does one include me killing you?” Theran reached for his sword as he took a step toward her, but Verddra chuckled.
“Not exactly you killing me, but yes, I've even prepared for the event if you seek to do so—not that you would be successful, mind you.” Her eyes narrowed as sobriety filled her features, and she continued walking around him at a slow, steady pace.
Knowing she could throw him across the room and pin him to a wall with a mere wave of her hand, Theran forced himself to slacken his grip on his sword hilt. He might not be able to kill her, but perhaps he could get answers. “Why send Therth with Erita? Whatever you need from me, surely Therth could have done—deceiving others into thinking he was me.”
Upon hearing this suggestion, Verddra sighed as if disappointed, and she came back around in front of Theran, locking eyes with him. “Aye, I could have done so, yet I've worked closely with Therth all these years—since Lorrek abandoned him in Jechorm and killed his brother.”
“Lorrek did not kill—” Theran took a step toward her, but Verddra lifted her hand, halting him immediately with a look, not magic.
“Yes, I know what is said of Prince Lorrek. However, none of us know anything for certain, which brings me back to the reason why I needed you—the true heir of Cuskelom—rather than your double.” Verddra lowered her hand and resumed walking around him. “You see, Therth has proven to be a loyal captain of my guard, but there are simply some things he cannot do, and that is where you come in.”
None of this sat well with Theran, and he wondered if he could continue stalling until Honroth showed up with an army. He doubted that very much, but he needed to keep Verddra talking—keep trying to find answers. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” She sounded amused as she walked around him.
Theran curled his fingers into fists. “Why take over Nirrorm—kill King Wordan? He was a good man.”
“He forbade magic,” she said as if it answered everything, and then she shook her head and clicked her tongue. “You don't understand, Prince Theran, because you have never had such power in your mind and at your fingertips. Magic should not be forbidden—it should be accepted. King Wordan was simply in my way, so in killing him I did two things—rid myself of his nuisance and freed Nirrorm to welcome magic.”
“And in doing so you have made many enemies.” Theran thought of Mordora and wondered what had happened to Moren, but he knew not to mention them in case she had forgotten them.
Verddra smiled, amused at his claim. “Enemies are nothing new to me, Prince Theran. They have never held me back, and they most certainly never will.”
“What do you want?” He stood very still, measuring Verddra's steps in his mind and the distance between her and him and himself and the door. He already dismissed any thought of him actually making it to the door before she stopped him; he'd had enough experience growing up with Lorrek's magic to know how quickly a magic user could move. Instead, he fixed his sights on her—knowing he could hold her off temporarily with his brute strength. However, he wanted to find Heldon and free him, and he needed Verddra's help to do that.
Verddra recognized his frustration and smiled as she came to stand before him. “I want you to help me find someone.”
“And why would I do that?” Theran folded his arms. “I congratulate anyone who has managed to successfully avoid you.”
A blue fiery orb flared in Verddra's hand, but that was the only indication of her fury at Theran's words. Her face remained cold even as she extinguished the flame with a clench of her fist. She lifted her chin. “It is my daughter I seek.”
Theran's eyes widened, and he almost choked on his own breath but covered it up with a cough. “Daughter? I'm sorry, but I cannot see you as the mothering type.”
This earned him a glare from the queen. “Your relation to Prince Lorrek is obvious. Both of you share humor in the most inopportune moments. However, she is my daughter—through a surrogate mother. I was never able to have my own children, and while my husband...” She paused as if remembering him, and then blinked back to the conversation, and continued, “When he was still alive, we wanted nothing more than to have our own children, and when it was determined we could have none of our own, we agreed to have another woman bear our children. Now, that woman is dead, but my daughter is still out there—somewhere—and I want you to retrieve her for me.”
Theran narrowed his eyes. “Again, why would I do that?”
A smile crept across Verddra's face. “Because I hold your brother hostage perhaps? And I do believe you owe the Jechorians an explanation as to why they cannot have your handblade.” At Theran's confusion, her smile broadened. “Yes, you will go to Jechorm to find my daughter and bring her to me.”
“And if she doesn't want to come with me?”
“Use whatever means necessary.”
Theran frowned. He didn't like working for Verddra, and he hated the fact that he had walked right into her trap. However, he felt responsible for Heldon. “And if I do this, you will leave my brothers alone as well as Cuskelom?”
“Of course.”
Theran didn't believe her, but he knew he had no other choice. “Very well, what is your daughter's name?”
Verddra's smile never faded, and something coy stirred in the depths of her soul. “She goes by the name Fawn now.”
“Fawn...” He had heard that name before during the very rare times he returned to the palace of Cuskelom. Then the name clicked. He remembered that Inecha had mentioned her. “Inecha's sister?” Theran snapped his eyes back up to Verddra's face, but the queen dismissed this with a wave of her hand.
“Her half-sister. They share the same mother.”
Theran opened his mouth with an immediate retort, but he hesitated as he thought through this revelation. He shifted on his feet. “Wait—you had Inecha's mother give birth to your daughter? Why?”
“The details are none of your concern!” Verddra's face hardened as her voice turned cold. “Now, you will go to Jechorm and bring me my daughter!” Her voice echoed through the room as a mighty wind tore through the corridors and whipped around them.
Taken by surprise at the sudden wind, Theran lowered himself to the ground to keep from falling over and lifted his hands to shield his face from the sharp gale, but he felt a familiar prickling on his skin and knew this wind was magic; he remembered it from the times when Lorrek had sent him someplace without accompanying him. Straining, he peered through his fingers at the motionless Verddra, but he saw the power in her eyes directing the wind—and no doubt his path through magic.
Unable to speak, unable to protest or even move, Theran could only close his eyes as the room tore to shreds around him, and he knew he was no longer in Nirrorm.
17
Lorrek came to the blackened field full of statues, and he stared at the stones without any visible emotion. During the walk through the forest, he thought about what he knew he would encounter here, and how King Roskelem could do such a thing. The more he mulled over it, the more fury stirred deeper and deeper within his soul.
Looking at it now, he realized it was a far stretching lowland between a hill and the forest. Once it had been part of the forest—Lorrek could still see broken tree stumps and leafless trees here and there like standing skeletons. Now it was a graveyard above ground with the people buried in the stone of their own skin—rows and rows and rows of people. Each one in a different stance—some kneeling and pleading, others in the midst of a fight or struggle, but a few stood still with their heads bowed in resignation. One, whom Lorrek passed, stood tall with shoulders pulled back, chin lifted high as any royal, and her gaze stared straight ahead at her fate, unafraid and completely at peace. No doubt this one had haunted Roskelem's dreams for many nights, and that had been her intention.
A footstep fell on the sandy ground of this graveyard, and Lorrek darted his gaze around but saw no one other than the statues. He listened closely and flexed his fingers—ready to conjure a fie
ry orb.
There—another step—calculated and careful.
And then another.
“Hello there!” A voice shouted right in Lorrek's ear from the absolute opposite direction Lorrek had expected.
With a startled shout, Lorrek twisted and moved to punch the man—only to watch his hand pass harmlessly through him.
The blondish-white haired individual smirked.
Lorrek frowned.
A sword came to rest against Lorrek's throat from behind, and Lorrek realized that there were two of them, and this individual was the one he had been expecting—though privately he wondered why he hadn't heard the first man. “No sudden movements,” a deep voice warned against Lorrek's ear. “We know you are magical.”
Lorrek lifted his hands to show he meant no harm.
“Now turn around—slowly.”
As Lorrek did, he noticed the blond man walk around him, so he was standing in front of him again by the time he had turned around completely, but Lorrek ignored him and fixed his eyes on the man who held his sword at his neck. His height was average, and his dark clothes concealed any indication of the condition of his body, but by the expert way he held his sword and the unflinching look in his eyes, Lorrek knew this man was a warrior. His long dark hair was brown rather than black, so Lorrek knew he was not a magic user, but he was unafraid of magic. His face—shadowed by his untamed hair and faint beard—spoke of a lifetime of hardships, and Lorrek could tell in his brown eyes that he was a silent one.
His less-than-solid companion was a different matter. Lorrek already knew by his blondish-white hair that he had been in Athorim at one time and used pure magic. His features were caught somewhere between agelessness and aged, and his entire presence reeked of a long, long lifetime—one that had seen the repetition of history time and again, and now he had to find humor in all things one way or another.
Someday I'll Be Redeemed Page 16