“Watch out!” Inecha sensed the same and watched in horror as the Rakessat blasted lightning at Honroth. “No—” Her shout cut off when she realized Honroth held his handblade in front of him, and the special dark metal absorbed the lightning, though the king struggled to maintain his footing.
At last, the Rakessat’s attack stopped.
Honroth looked at his own weapon—dark blue lightning swirling within the metal—and then glanced back at the Rakessat. Fed up with all the manipulation, lies, half-truths, and hurts of the past, he mustered all of his frustration and with a shout swung his sword at the Rakessat. Lightning arched from his blade and slammed into the machine, causing it to tilt back its head with a shrill scream as lightning shot over its body.
Then the sound stopped. The lightning stopped.
Everyone came to a standstill, waiting to see what effect the electricity had on the machine.
Therth had a feeling that something was amiss and shook his head but never took his eyes off the Rakessat. “Something isn’t right.”
The Rakessat lifted its head—its optics glowing brightly—then blasted electricity from both hands at everyone in the room. Inecha dove for Honroth and threw a shield over both of them while Therth and Vixen were hit with the lightning. All the blades on Vixen’s vest only served to intensify the shock, and she crumpled to the ground, unable to even cry out. Therth clenched his teeth against the electricity then twisted his handblade at such an angle so as to absorb all the lightning, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vixen unmoved and made his way toward her until he stood over her, deflecting the lightning directed at her.
Finally, the attack ceased, and Therth lowered his now-pulsing bright blue blade, but he knew better than to strike the Rakessat with lightning again. Still standing guard over Vixen, Therth didn’t dare take his eyes off of the machine but spoke to the assassin at his feet. “Vix? You awake?”
“Ugh.” She groaned but opened her eyes. None of her limbs wanted to move, but she knew she had to get up. This fight wasn’t over yet. “Help me up.” She reached up to Therth, who reached back with his non-handbladed hand and received a shock when they clasped hands, but he pulled her to her feet.
As she came to stand beside Therth, he caught his first look at her and frowned at her dazed appearance. “Maybe you should sit this one out.” His suggestion earned him a glare from her, but he nodded to her vest. “Your blades won’t help in this fight.”
Vixen continued to glare at him. “Let’s just finish this. I’ll distract it. You do the damage.” She motioned to the glowing blade on his arm then unsheathed several of her daggers and took off with a running start toward the Rakessat.
Honroth had expected intense pain when he saw the lightning coming for him, and he lifted his hands to shield his face, but the pain never came.
Lowering his hands, he saw Inecha kneeling before him, eyes shut and arms stretched out, as if holding an enormous weight on her back. Being this close to her, he saw the beads of sweat on her brow and the paleness of her features. This intense use of her magic exhausted her.
He reached out and seized one of her hands in his. Her eyes snapped open and locked with his, and he offered her a soft smile. “Let it go.”
Realizing the attack had finished, Inecha nodded at him then released the shield.
“Thank you.” Honroth rose to his feet, and with her hand still in his, he pulled her to her feet. “This fight is too much for you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Stand down.” When she looked ready to protest, he leaned down and kissed her forehead then whispered in her ear. “Please—I don’t want to lose you to this as well.”
“Inecha!”
At Vixen’s sharp warning, Inecha spun around to assess the threat but then gasped and looked down—the Rakessat’s blade impaled her chest as it towered over her.
Behind her, Honroth stared, eyes wide, at the blade sticking out of Inecha’s back.
An angry cry from Vixen drew the Rakessat’s attention once more, and the machine yanked its blade from Inecha and swung it at Vixen, but she slid under it, grabbed onto an armored plate of its arm, and swung herself up to its shoulder level to slash at any exposed wires.
“Vix!” At Therth’s voice, she shoved herself off the Rakessat and backflipped in the air, landing in a crouched position while Therth struck at the machine with his charged up blade.
However, Inecha stood still for a moment after the Rakessat pulled its blade from her.
“Inecha?” She heard Honroth’s soft voice behind her, but she didn’t have the strength to turn and look at him.
She felt herself falling backwards in a strange, numb way, only to be caught in Honroth’s arms and saw him shaking his head over and over again. “No, Inecha—not you too. No, please.” His kingly façade crumbled in his distress, and she saw tears welling in his eyes. Such a strange thing to see, considering she never thought he cared for her more than a ward, whom he was to protect, but now he had failed her.
Reaching up, she touched his face with her fingertips, and he closed his eyes against her touch.
Finding her throat suddenly dry, Inecha swallowed and parted her lips but couldn’t decide on what to say, “Do you love me? I love you. Thank you—for everything. Don’t cry. It’s better this way.” Then she remembered. “Heldon—” Recalling what Erita had implied to her about Heldon’s condition, Inecha inhaled sharply, causing Honroth to reach up and grip her hand from his face and stare at her.
“Inecha?”
She gripped his hand tightly as she tried to find the strength to speak. “Heldon...” Confusion swirled in Honroth’s eyes, and Inecha shook her head. “He’s...he’s in danger...” Pain wracked through her body, causing her to cough and tense.
Honroth watched helplessly as she experienced such pain, but he held her close, hoping somehow that would ease her suffering, but found his own heart aching.
Finally, Inecha found her voice again. “I...I think he is in...terrible danger.” She stared up at his face. “You’re his brother...save him...he’s waiting for you...”
Honroth strove not to cry out. Here, Inecha pleaded for him to save Heldon, who was another kingdom away while she lay dying in his arms. As helpless as he was here, how could he save his own twin? But he kept his doubt to himself and nodded. “I swear.” His voice emerged broken but with determination.
A smile graced Inecha’s face, and she looked ready to say something more when her eyes glazed over into a lifeless stare.
Swallowing hard, Honroth searched her face for any life. “Inecha?” He began shaking his head. “No, please no.” Bowing his head into her shoulder, he allowed himself to take a deep breath, inhaling her scent.
The sounds of battle behind him brought him back to the present. Gathering all of his fury from failing to protect those he cared about, Honroth pulled back from Inecha, gently closed her eyes, and was about to set her on the floor to return to the fighting when an unfamiliar individual magicked into the room.
He didn’t recognize her, but her free-flowing black hair whipped around her pale face as she twisted in midair and kicked the Rakessat across the face, sending the machine crashing to the floor, but the Rakessat rolled onto its feet and blasted a shot at her as she ran toward it.
Dropping to her knees and bending back, the woman slipped under the shot, straightened, then dove for the machine—her hands glowing with magic. As soon as her hands touched its chest plates, the metal began to glow white and melt.
Irritated, the Rakessat threw her aside, but while flying through the air, the woman stretched her hands toward the machine and sent a powerful wave of magic at it, blasting it off its feet and into a wall. She then slowed her own fall and landed lightly on her feet.
Honroth was taken aback by this, but watched as this woman, small in stature, scooped up the sword Therth had abandoned earlier and scrapped the blade across the floor as she approached the recovering Rakessat.
“No, wait!” Therth re
ached out his hand to her, but Vixen grabbed his arm and shook her head.
“Watch.” Ignoring the bewildered look she received from him, Vixen fixed her gaze on the woman. She looked familiar—it was a vague memory, as if from a dream. Digging through the hazy memories, a name came to mind. “Fawn.”
“Pardon?” Therth shot her a quizzical look but shifted uneasily on his feet, ready to go to the stranger’s aid.
Realizing she knew her from the operation that she had been forced into back in Jechorm, Vixen unburied the thoughts of Verddra she had experienced during that procedure and nodded. “That’s Fawn. She has magic, and she is very powerful.”
As if to prove Vixen’s point, Fawn lifted the sword in her hand and heaved it high above her head. The Rakessat’s right hand transformed once more into its plasma gun and charged up with energy, but Fawn brought the sword, pulsing with magic, down upon the arm, severing it at the elbow. Sparks flew.
The Rakessat lifted its right hand—the sworded arm—to slice through Fawn.
“Watch out!” Therth moved to go after her, but Vixen yanked him back.
Fawn never moved, but the Rakessat’s blade passed right through her harmlessly. She saw the weapon, lifted her own sword, and slammed it down upon the remaining arm of the machine. Then she seized the Rakessat’s own blade, twisted around to face her enemy, and without thought she thrusted its own sword into its chest.
The Rakessat stumbled back—handless arms going to its chest, sparks flying, optics flashing—then crumbled to the floor. All systems off.
Loosening her fingers from around the Rakessat’s sword, Fawn let it fall to the floor and then turned to set her eyes on Inecha—still in Honroth’s arms.
She started walking towards them.
Realizing they were now the focus of this woman’s attention, Honroth pulled Inecha’s body close to him and crossed his handblade, so it was between Inecha and this stranger, but she continued to approach. “Stay back.” Honroth used his kingly authority and narrowed his eyes. He tried to scoot back with Inecha but found it difficult to maintain a defensive posture while moving.
Fawn ignored his command and drew close. Crouching before him, she looked at Inecha’s peaceful face then shifted her gaze down to the bloodied wound in her chest. Her eyes hardened, and she looked up at Honroth. “She is my sister.” Her voice left no room for argument.
Having never heard of Inecha having a sister, Honroth was surprised. He didn’t want to let her go, but if this sorceress spoke the truth, he had no right to keep her. Willing himself to push back the pain he felt not only of losing Inecha in life but also never being able to lay her to rest himself, he nodded and eased her into the arms of this stranger. “I’m sorry.”
Fawn pulled Inecha close to herself, pressed her lips into a thin line, then nodded at Honroth and magicked away.
Honroth stared at the empty place where they had been.
He felt hollow as he knelt on the floor with empty hands.
Therth shared a look with Vixen, and she nodded toward Honroth. Therth should go to him because he was Honroth’s cousin. Besides, Vixen wanted to inspect the remains of the Rakessat—salvage whatever she could and retrieve her throwing knives.
Sighing, Therth nodded, watched his handblade scale back into the bracelet form, and then looked over at Honroth, who still knelt and stared at his hands. Therth had no words of comfort for him. In a way Therth understood the grief the king now felt, but then again for the last several years Therth had held onto the slender hope that his own brother was still alive. It wasn’t until recently that Vixen had confirmed Loroth’s death, and Therth still hadn’t had time to comprehend that.
Nonetheless, someone needed to encourage Honroth, and Therth knew it might as well be him.
Walking over to his cousin, Therth hesitated but then placed a hand on Honroth’s shoulder.
Feeling the touch yanked Honroth out of his thoughts, and he snapped his hard gaze up at Therth, which made Therth withdraw his hand. Honroth saw the discomfort in his cousin’s face, and he narrowed his eyes and pulled a mask void of emotion over his face. He was king, and his kingdom had just been invaded. Questions needed answering.
Honroth rose to his feet and felt the weight of his responsibilities and grief drape heavily on his shoulders, but he adjusted his tunic, pulled back his shoulders, and accepted the weight.
He would grieve for Inecha later—when he was alone.
“Therth, find the constable. I want to know why the army did not stop the advance of that creature!” He motioned sharply at the fallen Rakessat. After Therth bowed and left the corridor to find the constable of the army, Honroth fixed his attention on Vixen, who was picking up her thrown blades from off the floor and yanking them out of the body of the machine.
With heavy limbs and determination, Honroth dragged himself to her and stood over the Rakessat. How he hated that machine.
“Who was she?” His question drew Vixen’s gaze to him, and he saw her confusion, so he motioned back to the destroyed Rakessat. “The woman who did this. I saw how you kept Therth from joining her in battle—almost as if you knew her.”
Vixen bowed her head but then lifted her chin and had to smile. “One thing about women, Sire—never try to stop them when they’re in the middle of a vengeful fight. You’re more likely to get hurt than help.” At Honroth’s acknowledging nod, Vixen let her smile fade and turned back to the Rakessat. “Her name is Fawn, and she’s very powerful. That’s...that’s all I know.”
“You knew her from Jechorm?”
Vixen shook her head. “Something like that. You remember the operation that almost killed me?” She looked at Honroth for confirmation.
He furrowed his brows, trying to recall the event. Since Vixen had reappeared in Cuskelom without Loroth or Lorrek, she spoke very little of what had happened in Jechorm, but when Honroth cornered her with a royal command, she glared at him sharper than any dagger then sighed and told him very little.
Recalling it now, he could hardly remember the few details she had provided, but he frowned. “A magical procedure or something about magic extraction and infusion...?” He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure if he had the details right.
She nodded then rose to her feet and stepped away from the Rakessat. “There were four of us that I can remember in that procedure—Verddra, Roskelem, myself, and Fawn. I only know of her because my mind was connected to her during that brief time. What I told you is all I know of her.”
The mention of Verddra’s name brought to mind what Inecha had said about Heldon, and Honroth sighed. He wished somehow something could be simple, but he knew nothing was simple about being a king—or brother.
The sound of multiple footsteps approaching them caused Honroth to lift his head in the direction of the sound, and Vixen stepped back into a fighting stance with throwing knives in her hands, ready to go.
Therth rounded the corner with Constable Zhirak. Seeing the blood stains on Zhirak’s tunic and his disheveled look from battle, Honroth sighed but nodded his greeting to the constable. “I assume the battle was not limited to this corridor.” He gestured back to the fallen Rakessat while Vixen relaxed her stance and sheathed her blades.
Zhirak nodded his graying head, and deep lines dug into his aged face as he surveyed the damage in the room then locked eyes with his king once more. “A Jechorian craft dropped the Rakessat upon us just inside the city. The army and I tried to withstand it, but nothing could stop its advance until Lady Inecha appeared. She commanded us to retreat and told me to fetch Lord Gershom from the countryside.”
“Lord Gershom?” Honroth lifted his brows when he heard the name of the exiled sorcerer from Serhon he had allowed safe harbor in the quiet country of Cuskelom. “He is here?” He curled his hands into fists. If Gershom was here, then why didn’t he assist Inecha? She wouldn’t have been dead if the more powerful magic user had come to her aid.
Zhirak bowed his head. “Aye, my liege, he and his protég�
� arrived in the city shortly before Prince Theran retrieved me.”
Realizing the constable mistook Therth for Theran but having no desire to correct him, Honroth drew a deep breath then turned away to consider the cracked floor, crumbled pillars, and gaping holes in the walls of this wide corridor. Though he looked at the mess, he took the opportunity to come to terms with what Zhirak had told him. Gershom was here, but he had come too late. That was why he hadn’t been able to help Inecha. “Why didn’t he magick in?” Honroth narrowed his eyes at the thought because he knew every good sorcerer could do at least that much. “Surely he must have a good reason.”
Clenching his fists, Honroth willed himself to be calm and set his gaze upon Vixen, and then realized he should be confused by her presence here. “I thought you were going to help those...Guardians in Jechorm. Why are you here?”
Vixen gave a one shouldered shrug. “My friends needed me, and I try to be there for my friends.”
“You said you knew Fawn from Jechorm?” When she nodded, Honroth gathered a breath. “Go—return to Jechorm. Assist your friends here and find what you can of Lady Fawn.” Then he leaned to her ear and added quietly but firmly, “And find a way to stop their attacks.”
When he pulled back, Vixen hesitated then frowned. “How am I to get there? I used the handblade.” She motioned to Therth’s wrist.
Gesturing for his cousin to come over, Honroth pointed at the bracelet. “Give Vixen the handblade. She will need it for her investigation.”
Therth grabbed the bracelet, but when he tugged to pull it off, it didn’t budge. He gave Vixen a helpless look.
She smiled and stepped up to him. Placing her hand on his arm around the bracelet to catch it when it opened, she spoke softly so no one around her could hear. “Asema’alokech.” The handblade’s flawless metal fractured then opened, and Vixen pulled it off of Therth’s wrist. “I must say, I don’t like it as a sword. It gets in my way.” She snapped it on her wrist and watched it conform to her smaller wrist until she felt the familiar clasp of it on her arm.
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 46
