He didn't understand any of this. Though powerful, Lorrek was always a reasonable man. He took every part of a situation into consideration and came to a sound solution—often requiring just a few choice words or silence with an unrelenting stare to solve the issue. However, since going to Jechorm, he became more and more unreasonable—as if he knew many secrets but had no time to explain how they were connected. Instead, he simply acted without regard to the consequences.
Loroth looked at his unconscious cousin. He sensed his life slipping away little by little, but Loroth knew he still had some time. Maybe—just maybe he would be able to persuade Lorrek to let him heal him.
However, for the time being, Loroth sat in silence, contemplating what had happened and what the near future might hold. Lifting his gaze to the unfamiliar stars in the night sky, he reached across the bond to Vixen. He had nothing to say to her but sent waves of love to her.
Hours passed, and dawn bled across the desert horizon before Lorrek finally groaned. Loroth was at his side in an instant and looked over the injury. Lorrek tried to move but cried out, yet no sound emerged from his dry throat. He could only groan.
Loroth frowned as he pulled the crusted bits of clothing away from the chest wound. “It looks infected.” He looked at Lorrek's pale face. “I need to heal this.”
“No!” Lorrek tried to shove him aside, but he was too weak. All he could do was shake his head. “Just let me die.”
“Why?” Loroth leaned forward into Lorrek's line of sight. Now he used the same calm but cool voice Lorrek always used to get answers. “Why do you want to die? This is not like you. You are more cunning than this. You do not give up.”
Even whilst Loroth was speaking, Lorrek shook his head from side to side as best he could in his weak and pained condition. “No.” He grabbed Loroth's wrist and forced his eyes to focus on him. “That...that is what I allow people to think.”
Loroth frowned as he furrowed his brows and pulled back. “Then what is true?”
Lorrek gave a weak laugh. “I no longer know. I try...try to be all things...to all people—solving problems...finding solutions...” He shook his head weakly.
“You only meant to help others from dangers even they did not see.” Loroth nodded, understanding. And here he thought he knew his cousin best because he had to double as him on so many occasions. However, due to Lorrek's kinship with magic, there were some things Lorrek would know that no one else could imagine, and Loroth could not fake that. He could, nonetheless, offer what Lorrek gave to so many others—a listening ear. “What happened? Why did King Roskelem attack you?”
Lorrek's head rolled to the side, exhausted, and Loroth thought he had fallen unconsciousness again, but then he saw Lorrek lift his heavy lids then lick his cracked lips. “Therth—Atheta loves him. They...she is pregnant with his child.” He shook his head the slightest bit. “Don't know why...why Roskelem attacked, but...he...he doesn't know—not everything. I...we had to get out of there.” He turned his head to look at Loroth—pain filling his blue eyes. “He was going to...kill you.”
When he said this, Loroth furrowed his brows, but Lorrek closed his eyes and nodded, then hissed and stiffened as pain coursed through him. Once the pain subsided, Lorrek sighed and opened his eyes again. “You didn't...see him—behind you. He thought—”
“I was you.” Loroth nodded, understanding.
“I couldn't leave Atheta...didn't know...what he'd do to her. Came here by...accident...” Lorrek's face twisted in anguish, and his breath became labored, but he still had more to say. “Took...took her memories. Had to calm her...had to save the baby...” His breathing became shallow as he began to panic over the choice he had made.
Loroth reached out and touched his arm. “Lorrek, rest. No need to explain yourself.” He offered him a smile. “I understand.” When Lorrek looked at him with doubt, Loroth insisted with a nod. “You did what you could do in the moment. I do not judge you for it. You did what you thought was right.”
A tiny smile turned up the corner of Lorrek's mouth. “I was wrong.” At his cousin’s words, Loroth shook his head, but Lorrek's eyes lost focus through he still smiled. “Someday...maybe I'll be redeemed...” He trailed off and grew utterly still.
Loroth felt a coldness creeping into the bond he shared with his cousin, and dread sank into his heart. “Lorrek!” Loroth grabbed his cousin's face and forced him to look at him. “Lorrek, you are not going to die now. You are the only one who can undo what has been done. Too many lives—futures—are at stake, and you are not one to shrink from your responsibility. It is my honor to take your place.”
“Lo, no...”
But Loroth pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. Using their bond, he bypassed all of Lorrek's natural defenses and his faint attempt to block him out. Once deep in the magical realm, Loroth poured all his strength and healing powers into his cousin's body. The ugly chest wound stitched itself together, cells repaired, cuts closed up, fresh tissue closed over healing injuries, Lorrek's heart beat stronger, his lungs took deeper breaths, and with each deep breath came the flow of magic until finally Lorrek ejected Loroth from the bond.
“Loroth!” Lorrek shot up and grabbed his cousin’s arms as Loroth toppled over. Lorrek saw the paleness in his cousin’s features and the sweat on his forehead. Absolute exhaustion radiated through Loroth's body, and Lorrek held him close and shook his head. “No, no, Lo...” He slipped his hand under Loroth's neck then began to channel healing powers to him, but Loroth reached up with a weak grip and pulled his hand away.
He shook his head and opened his heavy eyelids. “No,” he said in a soft but sure voice. “My life for yours...I was always meant to take your place.”
“I can heal you now.”
“No.” Loroth gave a single shake of his head and closed his eyes. “You will only...undo what I did. Do not do that...” He opened his pleading eyes. “Please?”
Lorrek's face twisted as he realized what Loroth was asking of him. “But Vixen...”
A fond smile ghosted upon Loroth's lips, and he closed his eyes halfway. “She'll want to hurt you when she finds out...she'll...probably blame you, but...fix this, Lorrek. Fix all of this.”
Swallowing hard, Lorrek tried to think. Though he might be able to repair Atheta's memories, right the confusion Roskelem believed, and bring Atheta back to Therth, he knew one thing. “I can't bring you back from the dead, Lo.”
Loroth nodded once—eyes closed. “I know.” He gripped Lorrek's hand tighter then slackened his grip. His features softened as if in sleep but were too still.
“Lo? Loroth?” Lorrek blinked back tears as he took his cousin's face in his hands and looked for any movement. However, in his mind he felt the delicate 'snap' of the bond break forever. He was gone.
Loroth was dead.
Thinking back upon all that now, Lorrek found it ironic how Loroth had been the very reason why they had gone to Jechorm in the first place. He had sought to save him, but in the end, Lorrek had been the reason for his cousin's death. Lorrek never expected Vixen to understand that, so until he could fix things, he would wait to tell her.
He knew that after Loroth's passing, he discovered he was losing the ability to physically touch anything—instead his hand would phase through objects. Roskelem’s spell had worked, but the mistake he had made caused the separation of all his particles though not in a life threatening way—it simply made him non-solid, and because of this he could not magick himself back to Cuskelom. He also could not bury Loroth.
Instead, Lorrek reached through magic into the minds of those youths who had taken Atheta, and he prompted them to return. At the same time, he imprinted upon them forged memories of Loroth, so when they found Loroth’s body in the desert, they mourned and took his body back into the city for burial. They had many questions, wondering if Atheta’s condition was linked to Loroth’s death. They didn’t know, and they never saw Lorrek, who stood at a distance, cloaked in invisibility unt
il they left.
It weighed heavily on him that he could not see to his cousin’s burial, but he had to find Theran.
Once he found him, Lorrek learned that Theran had been banished as Lorrek had suspected, but Lorrek told him nothing of Atheta or of Loroth. The two brothers simply existed and appreciated each other's company for several weeks until Honroth appeared before them, face tight with apprehension. “We must go. Lorrek, we need you. Jechorm has attacked Cuskelom with a creature they call the Rakessat. Father cannot hold it off for much longer.” He transported both of them back to Cuskelom by way of the handblade, and Lorrek saw the machine he had seen in Jechorm, and it was even more fearsome when alive than when dormant.
As soon as they appeared in the Porta Cosmica, he saw the Rakessat impale their father. He vaguely noted Heldon rushing to their fallen father's side, and he saw how Erita tried to stand her ground in front of it, but when she blasted magic at it, the Rakessat absorbed it then blasted it right back at her, and she cried out as she was flung back.
Honroth looked at Lorrek. “Any ideas?”
Lorrek hated that question. “Clear the area. I'll handle this.”
“But if it gets an Orb—”
“I know!” Lorrek cut off his older brother. “Now go!” He conjured as massive fiery orb in his hands but kneaded it as it grew bigger and bigger in size. Finally, he shot it toward the Rakessat's chest.
The machine—which looked like a massive Guardian—looked down at its chest then up at Lorrek. Unaffected. Its arms transformed into guns, and it shot plasma again and again at Lorrek, who deflected each one with a simple gesture of magic.
The Rakessat halted its attacks and calculated the fact that Lorrek remained unharmed. Concluding engaging in battle with him was a waste of energy, it refocused its optics on the spheres behind him and started walking toward him.
“The Orbs!” Honroth shouted from his position near the unconscious Erita.
“I know!” Lorrek snapped back but stayed focused on the Rakessat as it approached him—ground shaking with every heavy step.
Finally, it stood before him then realized the prince of Cuskelom was not about to move. Adding this to its calculations, it cocked its head to the side with a swirl of clicks and lifted its hand to whack Lorrek aside.
Lorrek squeezed his eyes shut and waited for impact.
The mechanical hand passed through him.
Lorrek opened his eyes with a gasp, and both the Rakessat and Lorrek locked surprised looks. “Roskelem's curse—of course.” Realizing he had no solid way of stopping the Rakessat as it reached past him for an Orb, Lorrek spun around and blasted the only Orb closest to him—the gateway to Endleath. Before Lorrek had time to hear his brothers' cries of denial at the loss of an irreplaceable Orb, he saw the Rakessat reformat a plan of attack as it turned its back on him to grab another Orb.
“Lorrek!”
Drowning out Honroth's command for him to solve the problem, Lorrek gathered his magic around him, willing it to bind together each cell of his body, and he lunged for the Rakessat. He dove through the Rakessat's body but then twisted, and his body solidified long enough for him to grab ahold of the machine's chest plate and yank him down as he continued to fall toward an Orb. Lorrek shouted a magicking spell, and the Orb behind him opened a dark hole.
Lorrek and the Rakessat fell into the Orb of Oblivion.
To ensure Cuskelom was safe, Lorrek summoned a great force of magic and blasted at the still-open portal of the Orb of Oblivion from the inside. The blast shattered the black Orb.
All Lorrek remembered then was utter darkness and cold. He had heard stories of how no one survived a journey through the Orb of Oblivion, and as he floated through the icy darkness, he wondered why he wasn't dead.
Then he realized his body wasn't solid, and no ordinary means could kill him.
Instead, more and more memories played back in the darkness.
He saw his child self chase Heldon through the gardens of the palace, only for big brother Theran to creep up behind him, snatch him by the waist, and tickle him mercilessly, “Theran, let me go!” little Lorrek laughed as he kicked at the younger version of Theran and only heard Theran's laughter.
He witnessed the first time he met Loroth and how it was like looking at a mirror. He lifted his hand, and Loroth did the same. “Is he real?” Little Lorrek looked up to his father only to see his father laugh.
He saw the first time he discovered his magical abilities as a lad. For days he had stayed in his chambers, obsessed with his newfound skill and didn't notice the sun rising and setting on the horizon until his mother knocked on the door and came in, “Oh Lorrek, what is wrong? Are you ill? We haven't see you for two days now.” He tried to reassure her that he was fine, but she insisted to take him to the healers. Yanking his hand from hers, he conjured a small pink rose and held it up to her. She stared at him, amazed.
He saw in the following years the first of many hunting trips all his brothers would take alongside Atheta, Haskel, Gremina, and Mordora. How they laughed! How perfect those years had been.
Then he saw himself watch Theran leave the palace one night and return a drunken mess.
Later, he watched Heldon sneak out with Theran and both stumbled back with mad laughter and liquor on their breath.
He saw the many times Therth doubled as Theran and worked with Atheta. They laughed together, worked well together—truly happy.
The first time Loroth almost died. Loroth had been in the library to avoid the corridors during a festive evening at the palace while Lorrek performed his duties as a prince at the banquet his father hosted. Then Lorrek felt a stillness in his soul, and the feeling filled him with terror and halted him in mid-sentence. Without thinking, he magicked from the ballroom to the source of the terror only to find Loroth slumped unconscious against the desk in the library and his breathing very shallow. The dread he felt in that moment he knew he would never forget, and he was right—watching it replay in his mind, the horror still stung him and caused his stomach to flip.
After that, the memories became a blur. He met Vixen, went on a few nontraditional jobs with her and witnessed her unmatched skills. He smiled when he recalled the marriage between Loroth and her, but things turned dark again when Vixen screamed at Lorrek to save Loroth, and Lorrek found him unconscious on the floor—heartbeat faint, and that was when he bound the three of them together with magic.
Then training with Verddra, her proposition, him magicking Loroth, Vixen, Therth, and himself to Jechorm. He watched Therth ask what he was to say to Atheta, and he winced when he heard himself give him permission to reveal his real identity.
If he was responsible for how all of these things turned out, it was in that moment when he spoke without thought.
Memories blurred again, meeting Erita, Inecha, Adonis, and Skelton for the first time, Loroth and Roskelem's talk, Vixen and the Guardian's fight, and Therth and Atheta's affair, then Roskelem's attack, and Lorrek magicking her and Loroth out of there to the world of Endleath.
24
Finally, the memories stilled and silenced. Lorrek found himself in his thoughts as if standing in a round dark room—shoulders hunched.
It was the present day once more. He was in Serhon after surrendering himself to King Roskelem to secure Princess Anelm's freedom. However, Roskelem had demanded that Anelm strip Lorrek of his memories, and that was where they were now—Anelm and Lorrek, alone in the well of his memories.
No one else knew of these memories or the truth contained within them. Loroth had been the only other one who had known anything, but he had died. So when Lorrek gave up his memories, “No one else will know the truth,” he reminisced with bitterness.
“Lorrek?” Anelm's brilliant presence drew his attention—shining bright in this darkness that seemed to swallow light.
Lorrek nodded but found his throat tight, so he could not speak. Instead, he directed Anelm how to bind his memories as if into a thick book. Placing it
into her hands, he covered her hands with his own and told her, “As soon as you take this from here, I will be empty from memories. Pocket this away someplace safe and forget where you placed it.”
Holding onto the book of memories in her hands, she searched Lorrek's soul. “Are you sure about this?”
Swallowing hard, Lorrek lifted his hands off the book and stepped back—the darkness obscuring his features. He nodded once. “I never meant to hurt anyone.” Tears thickened his voice, but he pressed on. “I wish to do something right for once. Grant me that one wish.”
Her pale fingers traced the runes on the cover of the book, and then she hugged it to her chest and looked at the shadowed figured of Prince Lorrek. “Thank you.” Then she turned to leave the chamber full of darkness.
“Someday...” Lorrek's voice stopped her before she crossed the threshold, and she looked back. She saw the grievous hurt on his face but the brave way he smiled, “Someday I'll be redeemed.”
Knowing his words meant more than she realized, she offered him a kind smile. “Know that you may forget, but you will not be forgotten—at least, not by me.”
“You would do you well to forget me, Princess.”
She only shook her head and—hugging the book of memories close to her chest—she stepped backwards out of the chamber.
Alone in utter darkness, Lorrek bowed his head. “And so, no one shall ever know the truth...” Then the world in his mind collapsed like shreds of black glass.
Feeling movement, Anelm opened her eyes and saw Lorrek stagger back blindly before collapsing to the floor, unconscious. Anelm gasped and moved to go to him but found her way blocked by Haskel.
When she glared up at him, he shook his head. “Go.” He nodded to the door. “Go now before my father changes his mind.”
Anelm looked past Haskel and saw Gremina with Bodulf kneeling beside Lorrek while Roskelem stood nearby, waiting for confirmation—his attention was not on the princess of Athorim. Realizing Haskel was right, Anelm nodded her thanks to him then wrapped magic around herself and chose her home as her final destination—never looking back to see Roskelem's reaction.
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