The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set

by Kelly Blanchard

  Finally, he dismissed everyone but stopped Vixen from dragging the Guardian out of the room. “I wish to have a few words with him,” he told her, and no one looked happy with this change of plans. Skelton opened his mouth to volunteer to stay, but Lorrek leveled him with a hard look. “Alone.”

  At last they left, and Lorrek sank into the chair across from the Guardian. He had not restrained him because he wanted to earn his trust—and he knew he could bind him with a simple spell.

  Lorrek took the moment to observe this man in further detail. Vixen said he was human and not technology as they had been led to believe, but he had seen Kyra and other such machines, and he knew how human-like they were. However, Vixen's sharp eye had no doubt seen the soul in this Guardian's eyes, and Lorrek knew the Guardian was as human as himself.

  This made little sense because Lorrek had seen the Guardians lined up along the walls like machines waiting for activation, and once they had been activated, they took commands like any robot. He had seen their superb fighting style and use of magic. Lorrek leaned in further, inspecting the Guardian's face, “Who—what are you?”

  The Guardian snapped open his eyes and locked gazes with Lorrek. Then he realized he wasn't bound, so he shifted to stand, but Lorrek restrained him with magic.

  “Please, remain seated.” The tone in Lorrek's calm voice hinted at untold consequences if his captive did not obey.

  The Guardian tugged at his invisible restraints once but then gave up with a grunt and sat back, scowling at Lorrek.

  The prince of Cuskelom smiled and loosened the magic from around the man. “Very good. Now, I have a few questions I wish to ask you. First, do you speak?” He only got a stare in return, so Lorrek nodded. “I know you can understand me. I have heard your handlers speak my language. Of course, I would not expect them to teach you—their lowly subjects—to communicate outside of violence.” He watched the man's face for any indication of mounting anger, but the Guardian remained passive and only stared.

  Lorrek frowned as he sat back in his chair. “Nevertheless, I know the answer. I know you can speak. Vixen—the woman you were fighting in the arena—told me you spoke to her, demanding she stop the fight. A piece of advice? Never tell Vixen to stop fighting.” Lorrek motioned to the side of the Guardian’s face, indicating to the black and dark purple bruise swelling on his cheek. “Now, I see you wish to remain silent. Perhaps it is a defense mechanism they taught you in Guardian training?” Lorrek tilted his head and watched as the man shifted his eyes away, and Lorrek knew that he was right. “I take that as a yes.” When the Guardian shot a blazing glare back at Lorrek, the prince smiled. “Very good. Now, tell me your name.” The Guardian only stared, but Lorrek had expected this. “I overheard the name of one of your kindred—Drathic was his name.” He watched the man's silver eyes widen with the slightest hint of recognition before they hardened with determination. “And that means a man of war.”

  Leaning forward to be a comfortable and familiar distance from the Guardian, Lorrek searched his eyes. “No—you are not a man of war but rather...a protector?” He lifted his brows.

  Finally, the Guardian locked eyes with Lorrek. “Haiken.”

  Lorrek pulled back then nodded. “It is good to make your acquaintance, Haiken.”

  “You do not know me.” Haiken's low, calm voice warned Lorrek from overstepping his boundaries.

  However, Lorrek knew no fear. “I do not know you, you say?” He arched his brows. “Well, let us see—I know you were taken from your mother's womb as an unborn infant, and you were raised in the tubes of this facility—probably at an accelerated rate. Once you were of age, you received proper training—especially in weapons and various forms of martial arts. Then you were given armor, which is fueled by an element of magic that gives you a single but unique ability, and then you received additional training to perfect that ability. You are a warrior, so it is safe to assume your magical endowed skill is either offensive...or perhaps it is shielding?” Lorrek saw the way Haiken looked away when he said 'shielding', so he nodded. “Shielding it is. Do not say I do not know you, Guardian Haiken, for I know you very well. I do have, however, a single question I cannot yet fathom; until Vixen yanked off your helmet, no one in the fighting arena knew you were human. They were shocked to see your face and had assumed—or were told—that you were all machines. Why were we led to believe you were not human?” Lorrek crossed his arms and waited for the answer.

  A small smile turned up the corners of Haiken's lips—pleased something had stumped Lorrek, but the answer was quite simple. “Because we are not human.”

  Lorrek frowned and glanced over the man once more through the view of magic, and everything indicated to his human nature. He also recalled the visions Radella had shown him. He blinked and looked back at Haiken for clarification.

  “Humans are of a higher class. The Guardians are far below them. Our closest kin is technology, but we have an organic element that sets us apart.”

  Listening to him now, Lorrek felt his stomach sink with a realization that the Guardian didn't even know. “You don't know.” When he saw the confusion in Haiken's eyes, Lorrek rephrased, “You don't know the truth. You only believe what you've been told because that is all you know. You wouldn't know any differently.” He then paused and cocked his head to the side as he considered the Guardian. “And I don't believe you wish to know anything else.” He nodded, confirming his own thoughts. “You like how your life is now. You are content, so I will not bother to persuade you otherwise, but there may be another—some other Guardian who is more curious.”

  Watching Haiken, Lorrek observed the Guardian’s thoughts and saw him settle on a list of names, which Lorrek voiced, “Jarovit, Zoyra, Anita, Priam...”

  Haiken shot Lorrek a surprised look, but Lorrek dismissed it with a gesture. “Do not look so alarmed. I am a magic user, and I can read thoughts when I wish. Thank you, Haiken, you have been most helpful. Now you must forgive me—sleep.”

  Before Haiken had a chance to defend himself or protest, he sank into unconsciousness, and Lorrek sat back to ponder all the discoveries of the day.

  He had much to untangle and determine before deciding his next move.

  Segment 13

  Atheta stood outside of her father's chambers, wringing her hands as she tried to determine the best way to approach the topic of her arranged marriage to Theran. The success of the arrangement had been a proud achievement for him, and she did not wish to shatter his hopes, but she needed to know—needed to understand.

  Taking a deep breath, she keyed in the entry code for the room and stepped inside. Little had changed since Loroth's visit with him. The drawn blinds blocked any outside view—keeping the room dim although the hour was now late, and Atheta knew there was nothing but city lights to see, and her father disliked their constant glow.

  Her eyes traveled to the desk where her father often sat after an operation, trying to do the exercises the Jechorians recommended in order to unlock his newly infused magic. However, the chair behind the desk was empty, and she shifted her gaze to the seating area of the room where she found his silhouette sitting on the couch in front of the fire in the hearth. In his lazy right hand was a glass of liquor. He stared, unmoved, at the mesmerizing flames. “Your mother would hate this place.” He surprised her by speaking first, but she wasn't surprised by the thickness in his voice—drunk, exhausted, or simply emotional, she didn't know.

  For a moment Atheta imagined he was Theran instead in one of his drunken fits. Hatred flared in her heart—at his inability to control himself or his weaknesses, but then Atheta realized that was how her mother must have felt all these years married to Papa. Her mother's abandonment broke her father, and Atheta never wanted to be that cruel to Theran, so she knew she had to break off the marriage arrangements before things went too far.

  “Papa.” Atheta walked around the couch and lowered herself into the chair beside the couch. Looking at him now in the soft light of
the fire, she noted how much he had aged in the last few years. His dark brown hair had thinned with strands of gray—shoulder length and tangled now. Deep lines dug into his brows and around his mouth—shadows of a frown. His skin had lost its healthy glow and now looked pasty pale.

  Atheta didn't like any of this, but she didn't know what to do. He was always stubborn. “Papa.” At her voice, he finally shifted his dull eyes to her, and she offered him the slightest of smiles. “How are you?”

  He scoffed a laugh. “I am a failure.” He then lifted his cup and gulped some of his drink. Lowering the cup back to the armrest of the couch, he clicked his tongue and shook his head. “The operations aren't working. I'd say it's a waste of time, but...I get the feeling something's about to change soon—real soon.” He stared into the fire.

  “Something's about to change soon—real soon,” she echoed her father's words in her mind and noted with irony the truth behind those words. “Yes, Papa, I think you're right, but the change might not have anything to do with your...quest for magic.” This earned her a glare from her father—disapproving and warning at the same time, but Atheta had been raised in the arts of politics, so she knew how to approach the topic on her mind. “Papa, I know you will not wish to hear this, but things have already changed—”

  He laughed at her and looked back at the fire. “Nothing has changed.”

  “I do not wish to marry Prince Theran.”

  He hesitated then chuckled as he drank again before sliding her a glance. “Don't be ridiculous. You love that bulky prince.”

  Atheta shook her head. “I loved the man I thought he was, but I know better now.”

  “And how would you know that?” Roskelem's voice dripped with ice, but he continued staring at the fire.

  Opening her mouth to reply, Atheta found she had no answer to give. “Because I have come to realize the two different sides of Theran are in reality two different people, and the one I care for more is his cousin, who you do not even know exists.” She knew that response would not fare well, but before she could say anything, her father chuckled again—a dry, sarcastic sound.

  “Give the man a chance, my dear. He loves you very much, and you may ruin his life if you abandon him now.”

  Then she realized he wasn't talking to her about her situation, but rather a reflection of his situation with her mother, and this stirred frustration within Atheta. “Papa, I am not married to him yet. It would not ruin him if I withdraw from the agreement now. However, if I stay with this arrangement, it will cause more hurt than good to the both of us.”

  “That is not for you to decide!” Roskelem shoved himself to his feet and took a moment to regain his balance. Once stable, he turned back to his daughter and swung his glass in a gesture. “You two are very happy. You grew up together. You love each other, and you will be married, and you will stay happy.” He spat out the word 'happy' then drank more of his liquor while Atheta rose to her feet.

  She knew better than to continue this line of arguing, so she chose a different approach. “What if there was someone else—someone I did love within the same family? Could we not rearrange details, so that he and I might marry?”

  “And who might that be? His brother?” Roskelem snickered. “The two of you never got along.”

  Atheta narrowed her eyes but couldn't think of a simple way to inform her father of Therth's existence. “It's complicated.”

  Roskelem shook his head and finally finished off his drink. Smacking his lips together, he considered the empty glass then shrugged and set it on the table in front of the couch, turning to his daughter. “Atheta.” He reached out to her, taking her delicate hands in his, and she had to fight to keep the disdain at his foul breath from her face. “My lovely daughter—you are fit to be a queen. You are the eldest of my children, and I would give you the crown if I could, but traditions demand the first male child be king, and that would be your brother Haskel. However, you do deserve to be queen, and that is why you will marry Theran. He will be king of Cuskelom one day, and you will be the queen at his side.”

  When Atheta tried to protest, Roskelem lifted his hand and shook his head. “No arguments. This discussion is finished. Now, my dear, you must excuse me, for I wish to retire for the night. I've been scheduled for another operation in the morning, and Verddra told me she will personally be involved in it. Knowing how powerful she is, I should gain a snippet of a power.” His eyes glowed with excitement, and then he kissed his daughter's hands. “Goodnight, my dear.” With that, he released her hands and walked away.

  She stared after his departing figure and watched him close the bedroom door behind him. Her heart broke when her father refused to grant her happiness. He so desperately wanted to make sure that her marriage did not fall apart like his own had done, and he did not realize he was actually forcing her into nearly the same situation which had ruined his relationship with her mother. She didn't blame him because she knew he was preoccupied, but she knew if he succeeded in his quest for magic, he would only become more distracted even when he returned to Serhon with her.

  Atheta retreated from her father's rooms.

  In the corridor, she looked across the hall to the door of her room, but she didn't feel like going to sleep just yet. Frustration mounted within her, and hurt ached in her heart. “I need to go shoot something.” Going into her chambers, she grabbed her bow and quiver of arrows from a corner then headed for the fighting arena because she knew at this late hour, it would be vacant, but when she rounded a corner, she almost collided with Therth, and she gasped, startled.

  He reached out to steady her. “My apologies, Princess...” Then he noticed the weapons in her hands and looked back at her face to see the flaming rage in her eyes. He frowned. “Are you well?” She only gave him a hard look, and he lifted his hands off her shoulders and raised them to show he meant no offense.

  When she took the opportunity to step around him to continue down her original path, he turned and fell into step with her. “I can see you are upset.”

  She still said nothing but walked at a brisk pace.

  He frowned but stayed beside her. “What troubles you?”

  “My father's stubbornness.”

  Relieved to earn some sort of response from her—albeit short and through clenched teeth—Therth tried again. “He has always been stubborn. Why does it bother you now?”

  “Because he insists that I follow through with the marriage to Theran although it will leave me utterly unhappy! He wants me to be as miserable as he is in marriage. He cares nothing for me or how I feel but only for himself!”

  Therth quickly darted his gaze to and fro down the corridors to see if anyone had heard her outburst. Relieved when he saw no one, he grabbed Atheta's arm, hushed her protests, and guided her through the corridor around a turn and past a few doors until he came to a specific one and keyed in the entry code. Once the door open, he guided Atheta inside, stepped in as well, then crossed his arms while the door slid shut behind him. “You need to talk.”

  Atheta looked around. He had taken her to his chambers. It lacked any personal touch, but then she realized he hadn't been in Jechorm as long as she had, so he hadn't made the room comfortable and inviting.

  With a sigh, Atheta leaned her bow and arrows against the wall near the bed then sat on the edge of the bed facing Therth. This was the last place she wanted to be, and he was the last one she wanted to talk to about this specific topic, but who else would she confide in? Therth would understand because it involved him—maybe more than she wanted to admit, but she wasn't about to tell him that. However, his very existence warped anything she knew of Theran, and that troubled her.

  “Therth, it's not your fault. You were only obeying orders.”

  His face crumpled when he heard this, and he took a hesitant step forward. “What are you saying?”

  She refused to meet his gaze but rather stared past him to the bottom of the door. “I do not love your cousin, and I do not wish to marr
y him.”

  Relief flooded Therth's soul—maybe she and he could be together—but then dread crept in, “That is a betrayal of Theran's trust. She is meant for him—not me. She is only confused.” Sighing, Therth took her hands in his and dropped to a knee before her, forcing her to look at him. “You know not what you say, Your Highness. Perhaps you simply fear the commitment of marriage and—”

  “Fear commitment?” Atheta laughed in his face then pulled her hands out of his grasp and hugged her arms close to herself. “It is not that at all, Therth. Don't you understand? I only loved Theran sometimes, but now I realize even those times it was not Theran.”

  Therth furrowed his brows and searched her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Sighing, she knew not to be harsh toward him. He was only trying to help, but he truly did not understand. Unfolding her arms, she placed her hand on his shoulder then her other hand on his cheek, maintaining eye contact. “Theran and I went to a royal banquet in Daskinor a while back. At the banquet, he did not touch a single drink but rather rescued me from boring conversations with the courtiers, and we danced and laughed. Was that him—or you?”

  Therth wanted to lower his gaze, but Atheta kept a firm hold on his chin. Looking into her gentle face, he admitted in a quiet voice. “Me.”

  She nodded. “And then there was a time when I was already in Gilthas meeting with the king when Theran surprised me by coming there. He seemed surprised by my presence as well and pulled me aside to tell me how there was talk of a pending invasion and that he had come to see if Gilthas needed assistance. I hadn't known of the approaching war, but I told Theran I wasn't about to leave my allies defenseless, and I expected him to insist that I leave for Serhon at once, but instead Theran smiled and told me he knew better than to try to convince me otherwise. Now, was that you or him?”