Atheta stepped into a lift and pressed a button to go to a higher level. She traveled in silence for a short time, but then the lift stopped—not at her floor—and the doors opened for Theran and Lorrek—at least that's how it appeared. They stepped in on either side of her and turned around to face the doors. She shook her head and looked back up at the numbers as they resumed their ascension. “I will never get used to this. Lorrek, Loroth—Theran, Therth, I'm not sure which you are.”
Therth cracked a smile. “Just as long as others do not suspect impostors.”
Atheta nodded, and the rest of the ride passed in silence until finally the lift chimed and opened its doors on their floor. “This way.” She motioned for them to follow. When the men fell into step on either side of her, she glanced at both of them. “I still don't know if this is a good idea.”
“Why wouldn't it be?” Therth cast her a look.
She sighed. “My father has become...almost obsessed with the thought of magic infusion.”
Loroth frowned when he heard this, but he wasn't surprised. Those without magic always seemed to want it. Even Vixen mentioned sometimes—after tough assignments with idiotic people— how she wished she had it, but Loroth knew she wasn't serious. She knew too well what it did to him, and her only frustration was not being able to take it away from him.
He turned his thoughts to Roskelem—king of Serhon and father of Atheta, Haskel, and Gremina. Loroth had dealings with him on the occasions when he had doubled as Lorrek and had to oversee political dealings with Serhon. Roskelem was a weak king though he tried to prove otherwise with his lavish dwellings, silk clothing, and fine speeches. However, he highly respected King Sindric of Cuskelom, father of Lorrek, and he practically worshiped Sindric and was his shadow—always going to him with the slightest problem in his kingdom. To hear that Roskelem was trying to have magic infused into his body disturbed Loroth, but he preferred to see the man before he judged him.
“Here.” Atheta stopped at a door. “This is his room. Mine is right across the way. I didn't want to be too far from him in case he became unstable.” She reached to wave her hand across the entrance sensor, but hesitated and looked back at the brothers. “Are you sure he won't be able to tell who you really are?”
Therth offered her a reassuring smile as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “He never has.”
She gave him a cold look. “But he never had magic either.”
Realizing he wasn't helping the situation but only making it worse, Therth withdrew his hand and slid Loroth a look for help.
Loroth caught the look without glancing Therth's way and met Atheta's eyes. “That is why I am here. I will sense any amount of magic he may have, but Lorrek masked Therth and me with the presence of Theran and Lorrek, so every magic user we encounter for the day will think we are the princes.”
“I do not like this deception.” Atheta shook her head.
“Neither do I.” Therth whispered under his breath, and Atheta sent him a glance, but he didn't dare look at her. He was glad he didn't have to deceive Atheta anymore when doubling as Theran, but he was worried whether or not she might slip up and tell someone—something he never had to worry about before. However, he knew better than to voice his concern because he could just imagine the fiery look she would send him before arguing that she was more than capable of handling such delicate situations—and then Loroth would send him a humored glance because she would remind him of Vixen in some ways.
Therth shook his head to clear his mind, and he motioned toward the door.
Atheta nodded and entered the code. When the door slid open, she slipped inside, and Loroth gestured for Therth to go ahead of him, and then he entered last.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room, but when they did, Loroth realized the room was not much different than the one he shared with Vixen, but Roskelem kept the windows darkened and the lights off. Loroth looked around the room for any abnormalities but only noticed that it appeared well lived in. “He has been here for the last five months,” Loroth remembered as he finally focused on the man sitting behind a table with his elbows resting on the table while his hands braced his head. He stared hard at the object in front of him, and Loroth realized it was a simple pen.
For a moment, Loroth took in the man's appearance. His hair had grown longer and wavier and seemed to unkempt. “Too busy trying to unlock his own magic,” Loroth figured with a sigh, but some things about the man had not changed. He was still slight of body, and Loroth knew if Roskelem stood, he would be a good head shorter than him. His long face and frown—emphasized by his furrowed brows—spoke of his hard concentration, and Loroth knew by the paleness of his features that he rarely left his room or saw the sunlight.
Loroth looked to Atheta, expecting her to be the one to break her father's focus, but he only found her watching him, waiting for him to say something to Roskelem. Noting her reluctance to disturb her father, Loroth gathered a breath then reached toward the pen—the object of Roskelem's attention. He gathered strands of electricity from all around the room until thin tentacles of lightning shot out of his fingers and reached for the pen, slowly lifting it from the table before Roskelem's eyes.
With a gasp, Roskelem launched back and looked at his hand then at the pen still floating in the air before him. An excited grin spread across his face, but then he heard someone clear his throat and looked beyond the pen to see his lovely daughter and the princes of Cuskelom—more specifically Lorrek controlling the pen—not himself.
With a disappointed sigh, Roskelem slouched in his chair. “Do you have any idea how hard I have practiced to try to make the pen even roll? And then you come in here and show me what I still cannot do.” He dropped his face into his hand. “Braggart.”
Realizing he had offended the king, Loroth released the pen from the threads of lightning and lowered his hand. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”
Therth picked up where his brother stopped. “Lo—Lorrek and I were simply passing through Jechorm when we happened to run into your daughter. She mentioned you were here, and since it has been some time since we last saw you, we thought it best to see you.” He settled on the arm of a large chair and smiled widely at the king. “How are you, King Roskelem? It has been several months since your last visit to Cuskelom.” He wanted to add talk of Theran and Atheta's wedding, but one glance at Atheta, and Therth knew he couldn't make himself say anything about it because he still didn't want it to be true.
“And if I recall correctly, Prince Theran...” Roskelem lifted his gaze and glowered at the prince. “We still have another month or so before any arrangements must be met.” Then a thought came to him. “What?” He sat up suddenly and spread out his hands, clearly mocking him. “Do you wish to have your betrothed already?” He sneered as he motioned toward Atheta.
Therth opened his mouth, ready to protect Atheta's honor, but Loroth silenced him with a gesture. “Theran, Atheta, will you please leave us?” Loroth's discerning eyes never left the face of the king of Serhon. “We have much to discuss.”
“Lo...” Therth began to protest, but Loroth shot him a dark look. Realizing his brother had a plan he could not share, Therth gave Loroth a hard look of his own but then turned and gestured for Atheta to join him outside the room.
Once in the hall with the door shut, Atheta hugged her arms close to herself and leaned against the wall, tilting her head back as she closed her eyes. Therth couldn't tell her how beautiful she was in this moment, so he looked around to focus on something else—anything else, but knowing Loroth, their conversation might carry on for the rest of the day. “Care to join me for a walk, Princess?” Therth offered her his arm.
She slowly opened her eyes and lifted her brows then pushed away from the wall. “That wasn't part of the plan.”
Therth shrugged. “Lo kicking us out of the room wasn't part of the plan either. He can handle himself. Besides, you look like you need a walk. I hear there's a beautiful gard
en somewhere in this building, which puzzles me because plants need rain and sunshine to grow.” He furrowed his brows and cast Atheta a confused look that made her laugh.
“It has plenty of sunlight, and there is mist that waters it every morning. It's striking to see because sometimes there are little rainbows. Come.” She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. “I'll show you.”
Swallowing his own anxiety at being alone, as himself, with the woman he cared for deeply, Therth nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.
Lorrek: “Remember, we are to gather information—that is our sole purpose.”
Atheta: “What if something happens that we aren’t expecting?”
Lorrek: “We'll handle that when we get there...”
Inecha gathered her courage with a deep breath then typed in the entry code to an operation room. When the door opened, she noted that this room was similar to the one Lorrek was in elsewhere, and her eyes went to one of the two chairs fastened to the floor. Sitting there with her hands strapped to the armrests and her head fixed up, was the sleeping Radella.
Swallowing hard, Inecha shifted her gaze to the only other two individuals in the room. “Verddra. Kyra.” She nodded to them as she stepped into the room.
Verddra smiled when she saw her. “Ah, wonderful. Please, come in—sit.” She motioned to the chair beside Radella.
Though she preferred to magick out of the room, Inecha knew she couldn’t. It was against the agreement she had with Countess Verddra, so she went to the chair. “What are we doing today? I thought you had agreed that such operations were fruitless.” She tried to look around to Verddra but only sensed Kyra's movements near her.
“That was true.” Verddra came around to stand in front of Inecha while Kyra prepared the sorceress for the operation.
Inecha lifted her chin. “What changed?”
Verddra considered Inecha for a long moment and then leaned in close. “Radella has reached out to someone.” Smiling, she pulled back, and Inecha shifted her wide eyes to Radella, who still appeared to be asleep.
Segment 9
Lorrek braced himself as his chair tilted back. When it stopped moving, he was lying parallel to the floor staring up at the ceiling. He heard Asalda tell him, “There will be a slight sting, but we must inject this drug into your system in order to manipulate your magic.” Lorrek knew they had mapped out Loroth's magic strength but not his own—he wondered what effect this might have on the drug.
Nonetheless, he pushed all these concerns out of his way and hardly flinched when the needle pierced his skin. Now he was connected to the cables, and now he would begin his own investigation while Pelham and Asalda attempted to rein in his power; he wasn't concerned that they would succeed in the slightest.
For now, he had a task to accomplish.
Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the depths of magic.
Instantly he directed his attention on the cable connected to the chair where his magic was drawn out of his body into the couplings. His mind followed the flow of his magic—straight into the floor, beneath and across the floor into the wall, and through the walls throughout the building. Twists and turns, up and down, over and across, Lorrek began to lose his way but allowed the magic to carry him wherever it would. He would find his way back—eventually.
<~>~<~>~<~>
Meanwhile, Vixen slammed Adonis' face into her knee then heard a warning shout from Erita. Without looking, she dropped to the mat just as a blast of energy shot over her. Grabbing four of her blades from her vest, Vixen sneered then twisted and flung the blades in Skelton's direction before Adonis grabbed her shoulder and whipped her around to face him again. Using the momentum of the spin, Vixen clenched her fist and continued the spin, slamming a punch into his face.
His face snapped to the side with the force of her punch, but then he turned back to her with dark fire burning in his eyes.
Sensing his mounting anger, Vixen looked down at his clenched fists at his side to see the familiar blue glow of magic growing around his hands.
“Vixen, here!”
She barely had time to register the teleportation switch Erita had just made before she had to duck under Skelton's flying fist while Erita sparred against Adonis with magic. Grounding her teeth, Vixen blocked Skelton's strikes time and time again, and the two circled each other—each one keeping an eye on their sparring partner elsewhere in the ring.
Skelton came in for an open palm strike at Vixen's neck and used the close proximity to ask, “What was the plan again?”
“To catch...” She deflected the attack, “...a Guardian's attention.” She struck out with her own attacks.
Skelton frowned as he batted away her assaults. “This is a fighting arena. Do you honestly think fighting would catch their attention?”
Vixen smirked, and Skelton suddenly realized that he should fear her. “I'm sure if a fight got out of hand, they would get involved.” Before Skelton had the chance to ask for clarification, Vixen dove toward him, tackling him to the ground.
Behind them, Erita held off Adonis' magical attacks. She had sensed his growing frustration with Vixen because he did not want to hurt the woman, but her attacks had come hard and strong. Now matched with Erita, he had the opportunity to release his anger. “Come on,” Erita baited him as she circled him. “You're not the only magic user here.” She conjured a blue fiery orb in her hand. “I'm a big girl. I can handle myself.”
Adonis narrowed his eyes. He hated fighting against women, but he knew there was an alternative reason for this fight. Opening his fist, he concocted a fiery orb as well then shot it at Erita.
She twisted her upper body and watched the orb fly past her, and then she righted herself again and smiled at Adonis. “Your aim is a little off. I was expecting something more like this.” She lifted her glowing hands then slammed both her palms together, shooting a blast of energy straight into Adonis' chest, knocking him out of the ring and back into the wall.
For a moment, Erita looked over her shoulder at Vixen and Skelton to see them grappling on the floor in a struggle for Vixen's blades. Vixen already had one in her hand and was trying to ram it into Skelton's face, but he blocked her with his forearm while he tried to stab at her with his other hand, which she blocked. Knowing the stalemate would continue, Erita turned her attention back to Adonis in time to see a blast of energy heading her way before it blasted her backwards.
<~>~<~>~<~>
In Roskelem's chambers, Loroth observed the king of Serhon. He saw a man struggling to maintain control over his life, who felt that control slipping away more and more the older his children became. He saw the fear that one day his children might consider him a pathetic ruler and oust him from the throne, and that was the one thing Roskelem refused to lose—his throne, his only source of power.
Approaching the desk, Loroth lifted the pen and put it aside. When Roskelem looked ready to protest, Loroth silenced him with a calming gesture. “You seek to use magic as a way to secure your place in your kingdom.”
Roskelem looked away and frowned, but his gaze kept wandering to the pen tucked away on a stack of papers on the side of the desk. “Yes, yes, that is true.” He figured if he was honest, Lorrek would leave him alone sooner.
However, Roskelem was taken back when the prince of Cuskelom placed both palms on the table and leaned into his face—his features hardened with seriousness. “Magic is not a tool you can buy, and it is not an object you can summon at will. It is a part of an individual's soul.” Loroth didn't believe this as much as Lorrek did, so he said the words he knew his cousin would use, hoping that Roskelem would listen. “If magic is infused into you, you are not gaining power of your own, but you are mixing your soul with another, and that person might still have control over his or her magic regardless of the body it is in. Do you really want to be a puppet for a sorcerer?”
Loroth pushed away from the table and stood still to give Roskelem time to contemplate his words. He took the moment
to reflect on his own motive for being here. Lorrek always described magic as part of an individual's spirit, but Loroth knew magic was not natural to him, so his cousin had to be wrong on some level. He didn't know how King Sindric had managed to infuse magic into him, and he sensed Sindric was the only one with any real answers. He was tempted to inform the king of the situation here in Jechorm and allow him to come and handle the situation before it became a mess in untrained hands, but he trusted Lorrek's judgment. His cousin was wise when it came to magic. He knew what he was doing.
“You don't understand.” Roskelem's voice drew Loroth out of his thoughts, and he found the king shaking his head in frustration. “Nobody understands!”
Recognizing the potential for danger if Roskelem’s anger erupted, Loroth pulled up a seat and sat down then leaned toward him. “Then tell me.”
Roskelem looked up at him, surprised by the invitation to speak without being judged.
Loroth encouraged him with a nod.
<~>~<~>~<~>
In the garden, Therth watched Atheta meander through the small piece of paradise in this land of glass and steel. He noted the way the shadows from the trees darkened her features, but it could not dim the light in her eyes or her small smile as she reached out to a low branch to slip under it to the other side. “You coming, or do you plan to stand there like a statue?” Her voice jerked him out of his thoughts, and he ducked his head, embarrassed that she had caught him staring, but he hastened to catch up.
Wandering around the trees, beneath low branches, and past bushes of flowers down the path of lush green grass that silenced all footsteps, Therth followed Atheta deeper and deeper into the garden. Eventually she came to a low but long, thick branch and hopped onto it like a side-saddle. She smiled at his confusion as he approached her and took in the strength of the branch—surely it wouldn't hold him if he joined her.
Someday I'll Be Redeemed Page 30