The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set

by Kelly Blanchard

  “Papa!” Atheta screamed and tried to go to him, but Lorrek snatched her wrist and shoved her behind the desk.

  “Stay here and stay down.”

  She had never seen that black look in his eyes or heard that hollow tone of his voice, but she knew better than to argue, so she nodded.

  Straightening, Lorrek turned to Roskelem only to get slammed back into a wall with a blast of raw magic. Before Lorrek had a chance to climb to his feet, Roskelem conjured a huge fiery blue orb and slammed it into the prince of Cuskelom—sending him further into the wall and scorching his tunic, burning his chest.

  “How dare you!” Roskelem's bellowing voice sounded over the chaos as he blasted Lorrek again and again. “How dare you force yourself upon Atheta? And now you wish to hide your wrongful deed by forcing her to run?” He slammed Lorrek again with another powerful blast, knocking him through a wall.

  Lorrek cried out and wrapped a spell of invisibility around himself, but he didn't move. Roskelem's magic was too raw and completely uncontrolled. Although Lorrek knew he was considered to be one of the most powerful sorcerers of all the realms, he knew he was no match to someone who had absolutely no control over their power. He knew he could outlast them in a fight though every strike he took would require deep and intensive healing later, but his own well-being wasn't his concern. He kept an eye on Atheta and sensed her distress growing, and he knew that was unsafe for both mother and child.

  He had to get Roskelem under control.

  Dropping the cloak of invisibility, Lorrek dove for Roskelem with a shout, only to inhale sharply when he was run through with a magically conjured sword.

  <~>~<~>~<~>

  In the cafeteria talking with Therth, Loroth gasped and doubled over, clutching his chest as a fiery pain shot through him.

  Therth was on his feet at once and at his brother's side. “Lo? What is it?”

  Shoving Therth aside, Loroth swept a scan of magic over himself to ensure the pain wasn't in his own body, and when he confirmed this, he frowned and reached across the bond he shared with Lorrek. Never before had he felt such pain coming from his cousin because Lorrek was powerful enough to shield him from any pain, but this time it was as if the floodgates had opened, and Loroth felt the unspeakable agony his cousin suffered. “Lorrek!” He shoved away from the table and headed out of the cafeteria—using the open bond like a compass to find his cousin.

  Hearing Lorrek's name and knowing their cousin had disappeared with Atheta moments earlier, Therth dreaded what all this meant. He hastened after his brother. “Loroth, what's wrong? What's going on?”

  Loroth didn't look back as he left the cafeteria.

  Before Therth had a chance to call after him again, Adonis ran into him in the corridor then frowned. “Have you seen Erita or Vixen? Remember that Guardian from the fight? He wants to talk to one of them, but I haven't found them.”

  “Not now.” Therth tried to shove past him, but Adonis grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at him.

  “This is important. It could be the break Prince Lorrek has been waiting for.”

  Looking back down the hall and realizing that he had lost sight of Loroth, Therth sighed. “Very well. Take me to him.” He trusted his brother would inform him of any complications as he turned to follow Adonis to Skelton and the Guardian.

  <~>~<~>~<~>

  In Lorrek's chambers, Lorrek grappled at the invisible grip holding him up in the air and choking him while Roskelem clenched his fist and chuckled before slamming Lorrek into one wall and then another and then finally releasing him. Roskelem came to stand over the coughing prince, who was dusty from all the debris, and cut and bruised from the beating, and bleeding from the stab wound. The king of Serhon crouched before him and grabbed him by his black hair, yanking his head back. “Do you yield?”

  Lorrek glared up at Roskelem then coughed up blood. “You...do not understand what it is that you do.”

  A sly grin spread across Roskelem's face. “Oh, but I do. I am defending my family's honor, and I am finally teaching you a lesson.” He gripped Lorrek's chin and forced the prince to look at him. “You were always arrogant with all of your power, as if you were untouchable. I did fear you once, and I also envied you. Now that I have magic as well...” He pulled back, conjuring a white orb in his hand. “You see, I've always wanted magic, so I studied the spells even before I had the ability to use them, so let's put one to use, shall we?”

  Lorrek widened his eyes as Roskelem blasted a white stream of light into Lorrek's chest and began to chant the old language of an ancient curse—one Lorrek knew meant to blast his entire body apart into tiny particles, killing him.

  The light intensified, and Lorrek's body arched, and he lifted his face heavenward as he cried out—magic blazing through every cell in his body.

  Then it stopped. The light faded.

  Lorrek collapsed in an exhausted heap.

  Roskelem looked at his hands, confused, and Lorrek seized the opportunity.

  “You missed one word.” Lorrek brought up both hands and rammed Roskelem with a blast of magic powerful enough to knock him across the room and into a wall. In that instance, Lorrek willed his body to solidify once more, but he knew he could only maintain this for so long. It would eventually fade, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to do it again.

  “Lorrek!” Loroth rushed into the room and skid to a stop when he noticed all the damage. He saw Roskelem close to the door, groaning and struggling to get up. He saw Atheta peering out from behind the desk—her eyes wide. Then he found his cousin leaning against the far wall with dark wounds across his body. “Lorrek.” He hurried to his side then hissed through his teeth at Lorrek’s ghastly scorched and bloodied chest wound.

  “Loroth?” His cousin sounded confused as he struggled to sit up and keep his eyes open.

  Loroth nodded and covered the chest wound with his hand. “Sit still. I'll heal this.”

  “Roskelem—is he still here? Conscious?”

  Loroth looked over his shoulder and saw Roskelem almost on his feet now. “Yes, he is well.”

  Hearing this, Lorrek snapped open his eyes, saw Roskelem behind Loroth and knew he mistook his cousin for him, and if Loroth was blasted with one burst from Roskelem's raw magic, he would not survive in his delicate state. “No.”

  “Lorrek?” Loroth frowned as he looked at his cousin's face.

  Looking across the room to Atheta, Lorrek made his decision.

  He grabbed Loroth's arm, magicked over to Atheta, snatched her wrist, then dug deep into all his magic reserves and magicked the three of them out of there. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he knew the one person who might understand and set things right, so he sent them to wherever he was.

  “Theran...”

  Segment 17

  “Lorrek...Lorrek...” The woman's voice sounded distant, and then there was the soft sound of her crying. “Lorrek, please...open your eyes.”

  “He's waking,” Loroth's voice intruded Lorrek's waking consciousness. “Give him a moment.”

  The darkness and dreams of recent memories faded, and Lorrek slowly opened his eyes. He noted Atheta and Loroth in his line of vision and saw the worry in their faces. He attempted to sit up but only groaned and fell back down when pain rushed through him. “What...what happened?” He closed his eyes again and clenched at his chest, waiting for the pain to subside.

  Because he had his eyes closed, he missed the worried look Loroth exchanged with Atheta, but Loroth calmed his own concern and focused on his cousin. “Roskelem attacked you. His raw power was...relentless, and you couldn't hold your own against him without harming him. Instead you brought us here.”

  “Where is here?” Lorrek still didn't open his eyes when he asked this. The deep ache in his chest was too much, and the headache pounding behind his eyes didn't help.

  Silence draped upon the conversation for a moment, and finally Loroth spoke again, “We were hoping you could tell us.”

&nbs
p; That was never a good thing to hear, and Lorrek lifted his eyelids only to see the darkening remnants of a broad open sky. No skyscrapers, no hovering vehicles or constant glare of lights in a city—they were no longer in Jechorm. However, the night lacked the sound of distant waves crashing against the castle walls, so he knew they were not in Nirrorm or even in Cuskelom as he had expected.

  He strained to sit up only to grimace and bring a hand to his wounded stomach. Pulling his hand away, he saw that it was stained with dark blood, so he looked at his abdomen and saw an ugly deep stab wound in his chest with black scorch marks of magic around the edges. He covered it with his hand then looked up at his cousin. “Help me up.” He reached out to Loroth, who reached for Lorrek's hand, but to both of their surprise Loroth's hand phased through Lorrek's.

  Both men pulled their hands back to inspect them, but then shared a look with each other. With an unspoken agreement, they tried again, and this time Loroth gripped his cousin's hand and eased him to his feet. “Careful.”

  Lorrek hunched over as he leaned against Loroth for support, and he panted for breath as his lungs hurt to expand. Nonetheless, he pushed all his physical pain aside and squinted as he looked into the twilight on the horizon of this world.

  Desert—he noticed. Immediately he thought of Athorim and reached into the realms of magic because the very air of Athorim hummed with magic, yet all he met was silence. “Not Athorim.” He shook his head then shifted to sit on the sandy ground again.

  Atheta dropped to her knees at his side. “Where did you send us?”

  Lorrek stared at the ground as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I meant to send us where Theran is, but...” He lifted his pain-filled eyes to the unfamiliar starry sky. “I know not where I sent us, and I cannot magick us back now. I do not have the strength.”

  “Do not worry,” Loroth placed a hand on his shoulder. “Rest.” He pushed him down gently, so that Lorrek was lying down on his back once more. “You need your strength to recover. I will watch over both of you until you are strong enough. Sleep.”

  Lorrek nodded and closed his eyes, allowing unconsciousness to wash over him again, but as he sank into sleep, he heard Atheta's voice, “Why can't you heal him?”

  Loroth sighed. “I can, but his wounds are too extensive right now. His deeper wounds must heal on their own before I can assist him. Otherwise...” He trailed off, and Lorrek drifted to sleep.

  When Lorrek awoke, a persistent feeling of being watched pricked at his consciousness. Without being fully awake, he draped a dome of invisibility around himself and those closest to him, and then he became aware of the shouting voices.

  “But why would he do such a thing?” Atheta's voice screeched, and Lorrek sensed deep within her the distress of her unborn child—still too small to be fully recognized in the realm of magic but nonetheless an undeniable presence. “He had no right! He doesn't understand anything.”

  Loroth sighed and tried to calm her. “Your father was doing what he thought was best. He was trying to protect you.”

  “By insisting I had made love to Lorrek? Father nearly killed him! He is a madman now with his magic. He only cares about himself—and then the kingdom next. How dare he? How dare he? I want to speak with him, and I want to demand what in all the realms he was thinking! Do you hear me, Father?”

  In that instant, Lorrek shot up and was behind Atheta and covered her mouth with his hand startling her. “Shh.” He ignored her stiffening under his hand and the way her wide eyes shifted back and forth. Instead, he listened and watched, trying not to wince with every painful breath he took.

  Someone was nearby—several someones.

  Narrowing his eyes, Lorrek peeled layer after layer of reality back to view them in the realm of magic and finally saw a group of older adolescents making their way towards them in a vehicle much like those in Jechorm. He counted five individuals in the truck. Skimming over their thoughts, he realized they came from the small town not too far away, and he heard snippets of their conversation, “You sure it was a meteor? Lauretta said she just saw a lightning strike.”

  “Yeah, and Jemi said it was a tornado of some kind. Doesn't matter. Something's happening in the desert tonight, so we're checking it out.”

  “You sure it's safe? It could be the Ragnvald's men.”

  “Scared, Heber? Come on. It'd be fun!”

  They laughed.

  Lorrek frowned and turned back to Loroth and Atheta. He had been to this world before. It was an entirely different world from their homeworld, but such travels were possible through the World Orbs. They were the only ones who could travel these distances, and this specific world was a small one not too far away, but Lorrek and his brothers used to take their friends through the World Orbs to Endleath to show them an altogether different planet. Here, as young adults, they could shed their royal heritage and be normal, and they had enjoyed that opportunity. However, Lorrek supposed in the moment of his greatest stress, he had summoned enough magic to make the trip to this world without the use of the World Orbs. That partly explained why his magic was so drained.

  Fixing his gaze on Loroth and Atheta, he sighed. “We are in Endleath, and unfortunately people are coming.”

  “Endleath!” Atheta shoved away from Lorrek and stared at him with her mouth gaping. “Why did you bring us here? No one has dealings with these people because they are savages! They do not believe in magic, and their advances in technology are pitiful in contrast to Jechorm. Take us back—somewhere else.” She took a menacing step toward him and glowered at him. “Anywhere.”

  Lorrek called his magic to him but found that it slow to answer and greatly weakened. He shook his head then bit down his teeth as pain coursed through his body. Once it subsided, he panted and looked at the princess. “I cannot.”

  “And why not!” She shouted at him, and Lorrek was grateful the invisible magical dome around them muted her from others. However, she continued to pace and make demands. “You brought us here in all your powers, and you are supposed to be the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms. Is it because you do not want me to have this child? Is it because you want Therth and I to be miserable? Is it because you hate your brother so much? Is it because you are jealous that no woman can ever love you—”

  “Atheta,” saying her name earned him her attention, and he winced as he rose to his feet then made his way over to her—careful, painful steps. “You must calm yourself. The child you carry is in distress. If you continue like this, you will lose the child.”

  He moved to place a hand on her shoulder, but she yanked away from him with a sneer. “I don't believe you. You are a self-centered, mocking, son of a—”

  “Do not mock my mother,” Lorrek's low voice warned her.

  “You think you can order me around after what you did to me?”

  “I saved your life.”

  Atheta laughed. “Saved my life? You ruined it! If you hadn't given Therth permission to reveal his true identity to me, I wouldn't be with child now, I wouldn't be conflicted over who I truly love, and we wouldn't—” She cried out then doubled over as pain cut through her abdomen.

  Loroth and Lorrek went to her side and helped her to sit down, but she gripped Lorrek's arm. “What is happening?”

  Lorrek swallowed. He already knew and didn't need his magic to confirm it. “You're stressing. The child is far too delicate for all of this. You need to calm down and not worry.”

  “Calm down? Calm down?!” She glared at the two men then hissed as more pain sliced through her.

  Loroth lifted his hand and moved it toward her abdomen, but Lorrek whacked it aside. “You will kill yourself if you heal her.”

  Making a fist, Loroth withdrew then narrowed his eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”

  “No.” Lorrek shook his head. “I have a horrible idea, but it might be the only way.” He looked back at Atheta as she cried out again, and he sent her what little soothing magic he could in his condition. “Atheta. Atheta
.” He placed his hands on either side of her face willing her to look at him. When she finally opened her eyes, he took a deep breath. “Do you trust me?” When her face twisted into confusion, Lorrek went on. “Do you believe me when I say that I will never let any harm come to you—or the little one?” When she nodded, Lorrek took a deep breath then nodded. “Good, then know what I am about to do is for the best.”

  With that, he leaned in and kissed her, but in the magic realm he dove into her mind and captured all her memories—of recent times with Therth, of Jechorm, of Serhon, Theran, himself, and all her life. Pocketing away all these memories into a simple spell, he reached out to the youth still approaching them, and he warped memories, blending Atheta into their past and circle of friends and cast a long-term spell that would constantly work on Atheta and those around her to make sense of the memories he wrote for them.

  Finally, he pulled out of her mind and back from the kiss.

  She stared at him, confused, and then crumpled onto her side, unconscious.

  Loroth went to reach for her, but Lorrek stayed his hand and motioned for them to retreat. “What did you do to her?” Loroth shot him a look, but Lorrek continued watching Atheta's unmoved figure.

  “I did the only thing I could.”

  Over the hill a truck's blazing headlights burned, and the youth came racing down to the bottom of the hill where they only saw Atheta's unconscious body. Loroth and Lorrek were still cloaked in invisibility. The vehicle stopped a little ways off, and everyone climbed out. “Is that—hey, that looks like Atheta!”

  “What happened to her?” They rushed to her side. “Hey, someone call the hospital! We need to get her back to town.”

  “But what do you think happened?”