The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set

by Kelly Blanchard

  All he could think about now was seeing Mordora again, and the closer they came to the throne room, the brighter her presence became. Finally, they reached the top of the stairs, leading down to the throne room, and his eyes fell on her. “Mordora!”

  At the sound of his voice echoing off the black walls, ceiling, and floor, Mordora spun around with wide eyes. “Moren?” Before her eyes could confirm this, a sudden weight slammed into her, and Moren wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “I didn’t think I would see you again!” He mumbled with his face pressed against her.

  Her heart ached at this, and she remembered the last time she had seen her little brother. She had seen Moren to bed, blew out the remaining candles in his room, and bid him ‘goodnight’, and then—with Jadkon in step—she went to Lorrek’s chambers for answers. There she found Lorrek in a trance. “He’s in the magic realm,” Jadkon explained to her, and with nothing else to do, they waited until Lorrek snapped open his eyes.

  Before she had the chance to scold him for using magic, Lorrek grabbed her hand and Jadkon’s and magicked them out of there into the woods where they found themselves surrounded by dead bodies everywhere.

  And then she found her father, dead in the forest.

  Remembering that horrid moment, Mordora pried Moren’s arms from around her waist and sank down to his level, her hands clenching his as she searched his face. “Moren...Father—do you know about Father?” When he shook his head, she bit her bottom lip then looked beyond Moren to Caleth and realized she shouldn’t keep them waiting. She looked over her shoulder to the brothers. “Adonis...”

  Adonis nodded as he approached the princess and her brother. “Go ahead. Talk with your brother. I’ll get the negotiations started.” He walked past them and bowed to the king of Athorim while Mordora took Moren aside to talk with him privately. Straightening, Adonis smiled at Caleth. “Your Majesty.”

  Caleth’s expression did not give the slightest shift. “I tend to recall giving a command that you and your deceitful brother,” he shifted his eyes to Skelton then back to Adonis, “were forever forbidden to set foot in Athorim again.”

  “You still don’t like my hair color?” Skelton raked a hand through his bleach blond hair.

  Nyvera slid him an annoyed glare then looked back at Caleth. Her hand was at her hip, ready to unsheathe a dagger. “I caught these two in the net where you told me to set it. Shall I kill them, Sire?”

  Skelton sent her a dry look. “You seriously think a mere knife would kill us?”

  “I certainly hope not.” Nyvera set her gaze upon Skelton then smiled, who shifted uneasily then looked back at Adonis and Caleth.

  Adonis never took his eyes off the king while Skelton and Nyvera bantered with one another. He took the opportunity to recall what he knew about King Caleth and the best way to approach him.

  Skelton had always held Athorim in high regard, obsessing over every detail of its history, how the kingdom was formed, and every ruler who graced the throne. As a child, he knew more about Athorim than most Athorians they met, and Skelton often boasted of how he would live in Athorim. None of this mattered to Adonis until his younger brother came to him, terrified, and wouldn’t stop pacing. “I taught a pure magic user how to use tainted magic. I didn’t know she was a pure user! She had a glamour spell!”

  Concluding that the best thing to do was to address the problem head on, Adonis magicked his reluctant brother to Athorim with him to find this girl he had tainted, and they found themselves in the middle of a packed High Court session while the king judged over a young woman’s use of tainted magic. All the details were a blur to Adonis now, but it resulted in banishment for Skelton and himself from Athorim.

  That had been many years ago, and Adonis no longer feared Caleth.

  He straightened, pulled his shoulders back, and lifted his chin. “We come at the request of King Honroth of Cuskelom for Princess Mordora of Nirrorm.” He nodded in Mordora’s direction, vaguely noting Moren’s face crumbling at something Mordora told him. Adonis kept his eyes on Caleth. “Countess Verddra has overthrown Nirrorm, and Mordora has come here to request your assistance to win back Nirrorm from the sorceress.”

  Caleth drew himself up to his full height—level with Adonis. His ashen face was still void of deep emotions, but Adonis saw the thoughts swirling in the golden eyes of the king as he took in every angle of this situation. “And why would the princess come here for help?”

  Skelton cut in, “Because we all know that Verddra helped Roskelem get his power, so Roskelem may be the only one able to bring her down, and we also know that Roskelem has recently wronged the throne of Athorim by kidnapping Princess Anelm. Don’t tell me you intend to ignore that now that she’s back.”

  Caleth’s eyes flared with fire at Skelton’s words. Around them, starting at his feet on the floor and spreading to the walls, a flare of magic shot through the black stone at the sudden rush of harsh emotions from Caleth. However, the brilliant wisp of light in the walls faded as soon as he schooled his face to contain his emotions. With his gaze fixed on Adonis, he said, “Our dealings are of no consequence to either of you.” With that, he turned to leave, but Adonis’ voice stopped him.

  “Sire, we will go to Serhon with or without your help. However, King Roskelem fears you for what he did to your sister, and you can make him obey whatsoever you command.”

  Caleth shifted his gaze from Adonis to Nyvera and then back to the magic user. “I fully intend to make King Roskelem answer for his actions, but I shall do so on my own terms.”

  Then he saw movement off to the side of the room and lifted his chin as his sister entered the room. “Anelm.” All eyes shifted to her when he said this, but Caleth noted how she now wore an Athorian blue dress and golden belt. Her blond hair looked almost white against the black streaks she refused to hide.

  When Caleth first brushed those darkened strands of hair out of her face and offered to cast a glamour spell upon her, Anelm had taken his hand and smiled up at him in a sad but honest way. “We hide too much behind glamour spells. I wish to be honest. Let them see me. Let them judge me as they will. I will be an example of how one can touch the tainted magic but not be consumed by it.” Caleth had left off the argument there.

  He focused on her face. Her features—though always pale—glowed with a healing flawlessness. However, her golden eyes still possessed an unspoken shadow, and Caleth knew it would still be much longer before she wanted to speak of her experience.

  Skelton charmed her with a smile. “Ahh, Princess, you seem to be doing well!”

  Adonis locked his jaw and glared at the back of Skelton’s skull, willing him to feel the glare and do and say nothing stupid. When his brother managed to keep his mouth shut, Adonis bowed to the Athorian princess. “Your Highness.”

  Recognizing her fellow princess, Mordora realized she needed to return to the conversation, so she whispered to Moren, “Stay here.” Rising to her feet, she stepped toward the others and acknowledged Anelm with a bow of her head. “Princess Anelm, it is good to see you well.” Yet she knew not to continue idle conversation, so she straightened and lifted her chin. “I need your brother to persuade King Roskelem to aid me in recovering Nirrorm from the clutches of Countess Verddra.”

  Anelm’s golden eyes shifted from Mordora to her brother. “King Roskelem is not a reasonable man.”

  “We don’t need reason.” Skelton smiled when the princess looked at him. “Just an opportunity.”

  Still unconvinced, Anelm narrowed her eyes then glanced back to Caleth. There was no need for her to speak any further. He knew her thoughts and her opinion, and he acknowledged it with a slight dip of his head but then lifted his chin once more.

  Going to her, he placed his hands on her slender shoulders and looked into her face. “I go to Serhon, dear sister, and I leave Athorim in your care. She shall be safe with you.”

  “And me?” Moren’s voice piped up, turning everyone’s attention to the sma
ll boy in their midst. “Can I come with?”

  “Moren...” Mordora shook her head as she went to him and knelt beside him. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew she couldn’t allow him to accompany them.

  “You will stay here, young Moren,” Caleth directed, giving the boy a firm stare. “You will continue your training in the art of magic under the guidance of my sister, for there may come a time when your skill will be greatly required.” When Moren nodded, squeezed Mordora’s hand then pulled away to go to Anelm’s side, Caleth turned his attention to the others. “Shall we be off?” He reached a hand out to Adonis.

  “You’re not going to demand some kind of deal or something?” Skelton tilted his head as he regarded Caleth. He knew how the king of Athorim worked.

  Locking eyes with Skelton, Caleth smiled coldly. “I have my own purposes for going to Serhon.” He then focused on Nyvera. “Are you prepared to go to Serhon?”

  “Wait—she’s coming with?” Skelton pointed at the assassin. “Why?”

  “Because,” Nyvera glared at him, “That has been my intention all along.”

  “Let me see if I understand this correctly...” Adonis turned to face her. “You came here to persuade Caleth to take you to Serhon, and he had you capture us before agreeing?” He looked back at Caleth with furrowed brows. “Why?”

  A secret smile ghosted upon Caleth’s pale lips. “You need not understand the ways of pure magic.”

  Nyvera stepped forward and placed her hand on Caleth’s shoulder. “I am ready.”

  As they all linked hands and Adonis gathered enough power to magick all of them to Serhon, Skelton looked at Nyvera. He shook his head. “I still don’t—”

  They vanished from the hall of the palace of Athorim.

  In the blackened fields of Serhon, they reappeared.

  “—understand why Nyvera’s coming along,” Skelton finished.

  In an instant, Nyvera was at Skelton’s side with her dagger against his throat. “Do you treasure your life?” When he gave an awkward nod of his head, she pressed the blade further into his skin and spoke with a low voice, “Then do not ask any more questions about me. Do you understand?”

  “Just one problem.” Skelton furrowed his brows in concentration as he weaved a spell then phased through the blade and stepped away from Nyvera with a smirk. “Ordinary weapons are of no use against me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Very well then.” She slipped her hand into another dimension and pulled out a pair of throwing knives. “You wouldn’t mind standing still while I use you as target practice?” She pulled her hand back to fling the knives, yet Caleth caught her wrist and leveled her with a hard look.

  “Stand down. You have come with your own agenda. We will keep King Roskelem preoccupied while you fulfill your task, and once you are finished, I pray we never meet again. I wish to have no more dealings with the Houses.”

  Nyvera smirked at him then put away the blades. “Well, Your Majesty, if you ever have need for any of the Houses specialties, you know where to find us. Now, if you’ll keep King Roskelem busy, I would very much appreciate it.” With a nod, she walked away from the ground and headed into the valley of statues—never once looking into the stone faces.

  Mordora gawked at Nyvera’s departing form then shot Caleth a look. “Why is she even here?”

  “She is here to retrieve someone.” That was all he offered before he shook his head, worn out from working with the assassin, then motioned for them to begin walking in a direction off to the side from where Nyvera had gone.

  When Mordora cast the brothers a look, Skelton frowned, suspicious, but Adonis shrugged then started walking after Caleth. With nothing better to do, she fell into step with him leaving Skelton to his own thoughts.

  “I think someone should follow Nyvera and see what she’s up to.” Skelton announced then looked around and realized everyone had left him. “Hey!” He jogged to catch up. “Don’t you agree someone should trail Nyvera?”

  But everyone ignored him.

  5

  Unlike most kingdoms run by a single ruler advised by a council, Jechorm gave the illusion of such formalities by electing a ruler—king or queen—every several years, yet the State was run by a large senate headed by their ruler—a queen this year. Since Honroth represented Cuskelom, Vixen and Therth had to wait in the hall outside the Senate Chamber.

  In the corridor, an entire wall was completely made of glass all the way down the hall. Vixen already found flaws in this design because at one point or another throughout the day, the leaders of this kingdom would step into this corridor—into the sights of any patient assassin in the neighboring buildings. However, she had no loyalty here, so she did not care what happened to the senators. All she knew was that she hated the fact that she was out here while Honroth was in there, facing the Senate without a bodyguard.

  With a sigh, she crossed her arms, leaned against the wall, and stared out the window at all the passing vehicles at different levels—that was another hazard in the design of this building; at any time, someone could walk through this corridor, and someone from a vehicle could blast through a section of the wall, snatch the person, shove them in their vehicle, and speed away before anyone realized what was happening.

  Shaking her head at all of these possibilities, Vixen cast her eyes upon Therth, who sat on a bench with his back toward the glass. He hadn’t spoken since they arrived, and he was the reason Honroth had ordered Vixen to wait out here and watch him—make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. However, since Honroth disappeared through the doors of the Senate chamber, Therth had yet to speak a word. Now that Vixen thought about it, she hadn’t seen him move either.

  When Vixen was still married to Loroth, Therth had been her brother-in-law, and the two of them did all they could to save Loroth’s life, but his fragile health eventually killed him. From what she understood, Lorrek had been the only one present when Loroth died, and Lorrek had yet to tell her exactly what had happened. Therth hadn’t known his brother had been dead for the last ten years and had joined forces with Verddra in order to find him. It was only after Theran and Vixen tricked Therth, and Vixen teleported him back to Cuskelom with her, that he learned the truth about his brother.

  From what Vixen could tell by his silence, Therth was still processing all of it. After all, it was here in Jechorm where it had all begun.

  However, Vixen decided to get him out of his thoughts. She needed him sharp, so she looked around for inspiration and saw the hovering vehicles outside the window. “Do you know how to drive one of those?”

  Therth lifted his head with furrowed brows and looked across to her. “What?”

  “Those.” Vixen nodded to the vehicles. “Do you know how to drive one?”

  Looking over his shoulder to the hover vehicles whizzing past the building, Therth nodded but still said nothing.

  “Are they easy to maneuver?”

  “That depends on if it’s manual or automatic.”

  Now Vixen frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Therth shook his head, pulling his gaze away from the glass to look at the assassin. “It’s complicated. Why do you ask?” He cracked a smile. “Care to ride one someday?”

  She only leveled him with a glare then jutted her chin toward the glass. “There are more than a hundred and twenty possibilities that the glass behind you could shatter, and we could all end up tumbling down.” Going to the edge of the glass, she peered down and saw the interwoven network of vehicles going in all directions on different levels, but further down she couldn’t even see the specks of people on the ground. “And if we fell, it would be a very, very long fall. I could probably snag a vehicle, but you’d have to drive.”

  “Vixen, you’re talking like an assassin.” Therth straightened his posture. “We’re perfectly safe here. There is no way anyone can break this glass.” He knocked on it with his knuckles and heard the thickness of it. “It’s probably a foot thick at the least.”

&
nbsp; Still, Vixen shook her head as she moved away from the window to the opposite wall. “When you’re an assassin, you find a way.” She smiled at Therth’s concerned look.

  After a moment, Therth rose to his feet and joined Vixen on the other side of the corridor. He pressed his back against the wall, crossed his arms, and scowled at the glass wall.

  A small smile tugged at the corner of Vixen’s lips, but she let it go—for a time. Finally, she turned her head to look at him with a smirk. “Got you away from the window.”

  He looked down at her, confused at first, but then his eyes hardened, and he glanced back at the glass, refusing to say anything.

  Turning her gaze to follow his, Vixen stared through the glass to the blur of vehicles. “Why do you think the Jechorians want Theran’s handblade?” As she asked this, she moved her left hand over to her right wrist to cover the bracelet.

  Puzzled by this turn of topics, Therth looked at her and tried to follow her trail of thoughts, but then gave up, and looked away again. “I don’t know.” He tilted his head back against the wall.

  “Do you think Honroth will have to give it to them?”

  Therth chuckled. “If Honroth is anything, he is stubborn. He’ll figure out some way not to give it to them. Besides, it’s on your wrist, and none of us know the word to say to remove it.”

  Pleased with this, Vixen nodded and fell silent once again.

  Behind the doors, inside the senate chamber, past the silent Guardians on either side of every door, down the steps, past the rows and rows of arena-like sitting, Honroth stood in the center of the floor before the long table where the Queen of Jechorm and her six advisors sat. The woman was young—far too young to be queen. Every time Honroth directed a question or an answer to her, one of her advisors would lean over to her and whisper something in her ear, and she would nod then say whatever words they put into her mouth.