Honroth narrowed his eyes at this exchange. He preferred to speak with the queen personally, but all of his requests for this had been denied. They maintained too much control, and he knew their facade would not falter unless they were surprised. Unlike the Jechorians, who could not make a decision without a committee, Honroth needed no counsel when he spoke the truth.
Standing with shoulders pulled back and chin lifted high, he met the queen’s gaze and spoke to her, ignoring all attempts of her advisors to gain his attention. “Your Majesty—and all of Jechorm—you ask for the handblade of Prince Theran, claiming my brother has promised it to you. However, for the last several years Prince Theran’s mind has been...unstable. The death of our youngest brother, Prince Lorrek, has troubled him greatly, and since then Prince Theran has been trying to find himself.”
“He came to us with the offer.” A sage old man on the left of the queen spoke in a raspy voice. He coughed once to clear his throat then nodded at the king of Cuskelom. “We did not present the idea to him, but he sought our help.”
“And did you give it to him?”
The old advisor hesitated, glimpsing at the others for assistance.
A younger man—bold in presence and third from the queen on her right—leaned forward in his chair with hands steepled. “We gave him nothing, for we required to see and handle the mysterious handblade ourselves. We have heard it can only be handled by the prince, so it would be of no use to us if we could not access its power.”
A small smile ghosted upon Honroth’s lips, but he concealed it then nodded. “My point exactly. The handblade can only be handled by Prince Theran, so all your efforts to expose its power will be in vain. Why waste anyone’s time and all your resources by insisting that you take it? Let us agree to forgive and forget this matter. Besides, we gave it to you, but I understand you misplaced it. If anyone, I should declare war on you for losing such a valuable heirloom of Cuskelom.” Honroth’s face darkened.
“Prince Theran ambushed us in the woods and stole that handblade from us!” Someone in the senate shouted. “You will hand over the handblade and Prince Theran to us, so he may be served justice by our systems.”
“No.” The quiet answer stilled the Jechorians. They glanced at one another to see if they had heard right, and then they looked back at the silent King Honroth.
“Excuse me?”
Honroth lifted his gaze to the chief advisor. “I said, no.”
The senators paused to let this refusal sink in.
Finally, one spoke up, “You are aware that this is a declaration of war between our lands, are you not?”
However, Honroth gave no response but stared at them without expression.
But then the chief senator chuckled and sat back in his chair. “This might be exactly what we want. You see, we have overabundant resources and untested technology in real warfare. A war is what we had hoped for—and need.” When Honroth could only stare at him, the advisor smiled then looked behind the king of Cuskelom to the armored Guardian. He nodded at him. “Bring Prince Theran forward. I think King Honroth and he may wish to exchange counsel before deciding their next step.” With that, he smiled smugly behind his steepled fingers as he set his gaze upon Honroth while the Guardian turned and hastened up the stairs, surprisingly silent despite all his armor.
The door at the top of the stairs slid open at the presence of the Guardian, and he stepped into the corridor looking immediately to his left where his sensors had indicated the presence of Prince Theran and Lady Vixen. He nodded to the prince. “They will see you now.”
Therth and Vixen shared a look and pushed away from the wall. Due to Therth looking identical to Theran, Honroth allowed the Jechorians to believe he was the prince. Therth nodded to the Guardian then walked past him into the Senate chamber, but when Vixen moved to follow, the Guardian lifted his hand, blocking her way.
The door slid shut behind Therth.
Vixen’s eyes flashed with fury, and she looked up at the reflective visor of the Guardian’s helmet. “I have beaten up a Guardian before. I can do it again.”
A chuckle emerged from beneath the helmet, and the Guardian surprised Vixen by reaching up and pulling the helmet off to reveal his smiling and familiar face. “I seem to recall such an instance.”
Vixen stared at the man’s face. The first time she had seen it was in the middle of a fight she picked with the Guardians in the arena where she had yanked off his helmet before knocking him out. “Haiken?” She wasn’t sure if she had his name right, but it had been ten years ago, and she had never expected to see him again.
Haiken nodded. “Lady Vixen—I believe your name is, correct?” When she confirmed this with a nod, Haiken smiled but then grew serious and looked around for any prying eyes or listening ears. Finding none—at the moment—he glanced back at her. “I know you have no reason to trust me, and though I don’t understand it, I believe I can trust you.”
“What are you talking about?” Vixen crossed her arms.
“Do you remember when you took me to meet...Prince Lorrek, I believe it was?” When she nodded, he went on, “He believed I was not a machine—not technology but human. However, the Senate and our handlers insist we are merely advanced forms of technology.”
“You want to find out the truth.”
Haiken nodded. “And we can use your help.”
“We?” Vixen furrowed her brows.
“There are others who think the same, suspecting we are truly human. We want to know the truth, and if we are human, where did we come from? Where are our parental units?”
Vixen rubbed her forehead and frowned. “And why do you need my help?”
“Because no one would suspect you.”
For a long moment, she stared at Haiken. She didn’t like the sound of any of this.
Back in the Senate chamber, Therth stood at Honroth’s side under the guise of being Prince Theran, and he listened, dumbfounded, while the senators brought to light the former dealings of Honroth’s father and Jechorm. “The former king of Cuskelom understood the importance of fusing magic with technology. It was by his encouragement that we even entertained the thought of creating a super machine capable of absorbing magic.” The senator pressed a button on his desk, activating a holographic image of the Rakessat.
Honroth clenched his fists at the sight of it but forced himself to remain still.
Therth noticed how his cousin had tensed, so he turned his attention back to the image. He had heard rumors of an invasion of an enormous humanoid machine immune to magic that had killed the former king of Cuskelom, and he knew Lorrek had died defeating it. If this was that creature, Therth hoped it was never unleashed again.
“King Honroth, your father knew of our operation, and he even offered a challenge to us—break into the Porta Cosmica and steal an Orb. If we succeeded, he would allow us to keep it for all our research.”
“You honestly expect us to believe he would agree to something so foolish?” Honroth forced himself to remain calm as he stood with his face void of emotion—the only thing he could do to keep from glowering at these people.
The senator smiled. “We don’t expect you to believe anything, King Honroth. We can show you the signed documents—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Honroth cut him off with a gesture. “No matter, whatsoever my father may have agreed to did not include the loss of life, and I could bring all of Jechorm before a General Assembly of all the kingdoms in order to bring those guilty of the death of King Sindric and the regicide you brought on Cuskelom during your...experiment.”
“King Sindric knew the risks when he agreed to it.” An older senator informed Honroth. “It was understood he would do all within his power to protect the Orbs, and loss of life was expected, though we regret it had to be the good king.”
“And my brother, Prince Lorrek,” Honroth reminded them. “It was he who finally destroyed your creature.”
Sensing his cousin’s control beginning t
o slip, Therth set his eyes on the councilors and spoke in a loud voice. “I have decided you are not worthy to wield my handblade. Since it is power you crave, power is the very thing you should not be given.”
Finally, the queen of Jechorm joined the conversation with a chuckle, and suddenly Therth liked her better when she was silent. “You do not have the handblade with you, now do you, Prince Theran?”
She thought him to be his cousin, Theran, and Therth knew he needed to maintain that façade as he had done many times in the past as Theran’s double. “No.” Therth stood his ground. “It is not with me.”
“And yet you stole it from us while we were en route.”
Therth had no idea what they were talking about, but he assumed Theran had tricked them. This brought an amused smile to his face. “It is safe.”
“We determined you may attempt to take it for yourself if we brought it.” Honroth added. “We thought better to leave it back home—”
“In its protected vaults, we know,” remarked the queen.
Honroth narrowed his eyes as he stared at the queen. An uneasy feeling gripped his soul. “What do you mean?”
The queen straightened and glimpsed at her advisors on either side. When they nodded their consent, she looked back at the king of Cuskelom. “Presently, we already sent our newly equipped Rakessat to the vaults of Cuskelom to recover the handblade since we knew you would prefer the more...diplomatic route.”
Honroth straightened. “You would attack Cuskelom? That is an act of war!” Without waiting to hear what more they might say, Honroth spun around and marched up the stairs to the doors with Therth in step.
Shoving open the doors, Honroth’s gaze zeroed in on Vixen, and he was taken aback at the sight of an armored individual talking to her with his helmet off. Honroth frowned at this but then remembered the emergency. “We need to go.” He didn’t wait for her but began walking away.
Vixen’s eyes widened at the urgency of his tone, but she looked back at Haiken, who had already slipped his helmet back on, and saw him nod at her. Pressing her lips into a determined line, she turned and hastened after Honroth. “I need to stay.”
Therth stared at Vixen, bewildered.
Honroth stopped but did not turn to face her. “What did you say?”
Ignoring how Therth warned her off by shaking his head, Vixen stepped toward the king of Cuskelom. “They need my help.”
“They?” Honroth’s voice dipped into ice, and he half-turned to face her.
Vixen nodded and motioned back to the Guardian still back in the corridor. “He’s someone I met here when Lorrek, Loroth, and I came here ten years ago, and he needs my help to uncover the truth. If what we suspect is true, it has the potential to bring down Jechorm from the inside.”
Honroth’s face never shifted its expression, but his eyes narrowed more. “You think you can bring down Jechorm?”
“Only if I stay.”
He nodded and motioned for Therth to approach him, but still he addressed Vixen. “Very well. Stay. Do what you can to tear this kingdom down. In the meanwhile...” he clasped his hand on Therth’s shoulder then locked hardened eyes with the assassin. “Therth and I will return to fend off an attack on Cuskelom.” Without giving her a moment to comprehend what he had said, Honroth reached his hand across to the handblade on the wrist of his hand that gripped Therth’s shoulder.
Vixen stared, stunned as they disappeared, and all she could remember was the hateful look Honroth gave her before he vanished.
She looked at Haiken’s helmeted face, not knowing what to say but knowing what she had to do. “I need to go with them. I will come back and help you.”
Haiken nodded then opened a compartment in his armor as he approached her. Pulling out a small handheld device, he offered it to her. “This is linked directly to my comm.” He tapped the side of his head near his ear. “When you return, contact me, and I will find you.”
Taking the device, Vixen nodded her thanks, slipped it into a pocket on her belt, then reached for Theran’s handblade that she still wore. This time she expected the disorientation of the teleportation and closed her eyes as she passed through time and space back to Cuskelom.
Finally, the rush stopped, and Vixen opened her eyes and stumbled at the sudden stop, but the sounds of fighting snatched her attention. Shooting her gaze to her right, she realized she was back in the Porta Cosmica, and she heard fighting outside the door.
With narrowed eyes, she lifted her hands to unsheathe several blades but froze when she saw her right hand covered in a black scaled gauntlet and from the top of the handblade emerged a long blade, so dark it looked black instead of gray, but its reflective surface caught the light. The handblade could sense when its wearer was in danger, and only then would it unleash the sword with a gauntlet.
Lifting her hand to inspect the weapon, Vixen saw how the blade had a thinner, oval shape rather than being flat and sharp, but she knew it was sharper than any blade she had worn. She had heard enough of the handblade’s power to know its potential, and she had seen the brothers use them in training. Wearing one herself was different.
Sheathing her throwing knives, Vixen headed for the door, but when she tugged at the handle with her non-sword hand, she found it locked. Stepping back, she frowned. “I hope this works.” She reached over to the base of the handblade—the bracelet on her wrist—and teleported beyond the door into the hall.
As soon as she appeared, Vixen dropped into a fighting stance and took in her surroundings. Finding no immediate threat but hearing the fighting further down the corridor, she jogged to a corner and peered around it to assess the situation.
Her attention first went to the sight of a Rakessat—its scaled armored body ten times taller than Honroth, Therth, and Inecha, who were battling it. It fought with one arm transformed into a plasma gun, blasting away at anyone who came within its line of vision, while from its other arm extended a long sword and blue lightning danced along the blade with loud crackles.
Honroth, she noted, was the closest to the machine. His handblade was already unsheathed with the scaled gauntlet covering his right hand. Other than occasional training, Vixen had never seen Honroth fight with his full fury, but now as she watched him—face distorted in concentration and rage as he slammed his sword against the blade of the Rakessat—she realized he was a warrior just like Lorrek and Theran.
Inecha never stopped moving as she dodged and slipped around the machine. Again and again she conjured fiery blue orbs and blasted them at the Rakessat. When the machine remained unaffected by her attacks and turned its plasma blaster on her, Inecha erected a forcefield shield in front of herself, sending the blasts back at the enemy, but Vixen could tell the sorceress was tiring. She hadn’t used this much power since before she first came to Cuskelom. Vixen made note to aid her, but first she looked at Therth to determine his situation.
Unlike Honroth, Therth had no handblade. Instead he fought with a common sword, but Vixen noticed every time he clashed blades with the Rakessat, the lightning from the machine’s sword snaked up his own blade, causing Therth to jerk back.
Vixen frowned and looked back at Honroth to see why his blade fared better against the Rakessat, and she realized the special metal of the handblade absorbed the electricity and let off its own spark but never shocked Honroth.
Since ordinary swords were useless, Vixen muttered under her breath. Therth would be helpless without a better weapon. She looked back at the handblade on her wrist. Technically there was no way to remove a handblade bracelet from the arm of the wearer unless they knew the passphrase, but Vixen had heard the word Theran had spoken that had released it from his arm. Digging into her memory, she pulled out the word from her memories and found it foreign on her tongue, yet she forced herself to voice it, “Asema’alokech.”
Opening her eyes, she watched the handblade sheathe back into its bracelet form, the gauntlet scaled back from her hand. The bracelet opened from around her wrist and cla
ttered to the ground.
Vixen scooped it up. “Therth, catch!” She tossed it to him before he even turned to her.
He glanced her way just in time and snatched the open bracelet out of the air before it could hit him in the face. At first he didn’t realize what it was, but when he held it up to see the runes, he recognized it and shot Vixen a confused look.
She had already unsheathed several of her throwing knives and saw the way Therth stood dumbfounded. Rolling her eyes, she threw her knives at the Rakessat, digging them between the plates of its armor. “Put it on already, Therth! And then you can be of some help!”
Without further argument, Therth snapped the bracelet onto his wrist and watched as scales crawled over his hand into a metal gauntlet, and then the blade of the handblade emerged from the bracelet. Feeling empowered, Therth turned his attention to the Rakessat then charged in with a yell.
Since she no longer had the handblade, Vixen knew not to engage the Rakessat up close unless she wanted to get shocked by its lightning. Unsheathing four knives, Vixen balanced them then looked for a weakness in the armor. The Rakessat lifted its arm to crush Honroth with a mighty swing of its sword, but Vixen saw the exposed wire under its arm.
Setting her face with determination, she flung one, two, three, four blades at the wire then watched helplessly as her knives only nicked the wires. “My knives are worthless against this machine!” She alerted everyone and backed up, but she still unsheathed two longer daggers in case she got another opening.
“Stay back!” Honroth commanded her as he was in mid-twist with a parry against the Rakessat’s cumbersome sword. Twisting his face from the effort to block the attack, he gathered strength then shouted as he shoved the sword away. The Rakessat pulled back, but Honroth heard the sound of it gathering electricity around its blades.
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 45
