Asalda sighed as she sat back in her seat with her shoulders slightly slouched. “At first we told them who they were and what they really were, but then there were complications...” She met Theran’s gaze. “They began asking questions, searching for their birth parents, wanting to know why they were aborted and such. They lost focus from their duties as Guardians, and the parents were horrified that they had survived, and they informed us they wanted nothing to do with them. They told us if we did not contain the matter, they would take it to the Courts, and we would have a legal issue on our hands, so we decided not to inform the Guardians of their...human status, and they naturally came to the conclusion that they were machines due to all our advancements in technology, and we simply didn’t discourage that.”
Theran shook his head, still trying to grasp the reason why she was telling him all of this and how it fit with them wanting him to prevent a revolt. He came to one conclusion. “But they found out anyway, didn’t they?” He looked hard at Asalda. “They discovered that they are truly human.”
“They suspect it, but we’ve given them...room to wonder and speculate, especially with the yearly Guardian Games.”
“Drathan mentioned them to me.” Theran nodded slowly. “You give them the designation of a human if they win.”
“But it leads to complications if one Guardian is granted that status. The other Guardians begin to wonder the real meaning of ‘human’, and when questions begin...” Asalda glanced around the room, as if it contained the answers within its walls. When she found nothing, she sighed and looked back at Theran. “Questions breed discontentment, and that turns into anger and resentment, and we cannot have a bunch of highly trained angry individuals running around our kingdom, endangering our citizens.”
Theran sat back and fixed his gaze on her. He still didn’t understand why he was brought here—didn’t understand why one of the two individuals in charge of the Guardian program sat down with him to explain things. “Why are you telling me all of this?” He looked at her with his brows furrowed.
She rose to her feet and approached Theran. “In every Guardian Game, we lose at least three to twelve Guardians a game, and though we have millions of Guardians, eventually this loss will effect us greatly. We would like to introduce a new Guardian—one who will challenge their questions.”
Theran silenced her with a cutting motion of his hand and gave her a hard look “You want me to convince them that they’re not human?” He stood, shaking his head. “That is a lie, and I will not stand by it.”
“Would you rather stand by and watch so many people die?”
He made a fist and shook his head. “I am not here to save lives, Milady. I am here to find Fawn—formerly known as Radella.”
As if recalling this for the first time, Asalda straightened and lifted her chin. “Well then, perhaps we can help each other.” When Theran looked at her doubtfully, she smiled and approached him with sly confidence. “I have an army of over a million soldiers. I have eyes and ears everywhere, and I have enough information to get anyone—especially those in power—to do what I request. I can find your Fawn, but only if you help me.”
For a long moment, he stared at the woman before him, considering the weight of her words. He didn’t like any of this. He preferred to leave Jechorm altogether and free Heldon himself—who cared what Verddra wanted anyway? But he had way no back to Nirrorm—at least not at this time. Maybe one of the Guardians had teleporting abilities and could help him escape, but that required extra time to locate that Guardian and to earn their trust.
With a sigh, he gave Asalda a solid glare. “What would you have me do?”
She smiled then turned to the door, gesturing for him to follow. “I have something to show you.”
Reluctant but with no other choice, Theran looked back over his shoulder to the training Guardians then shifted his gaze forward and trailed after the woman.
She led him to a room a few doors down, and once they stepped into the dim blue lighting, Theran realized it was a storage room for Guardian armor. His gaze skimmed along the walls, noting behind the glass in their compartments hung pieces of the armor like empty, lifeless Guardians under the white light of each display.
Finally, they stopped walking, and Theran followed Asalda’s gaze to a display at the end of the narrow corridor. Unlike all the other Guardian armor—which was gray with strips of color along their shoulders, arms, and legs—this one was solid black.
Theran frowned but looked through the reflection at Asalda’s face. “What is this?”
Something crossed her face like a flicker of displeasure, but she smoothed it over quickly. “This was a failed experiment—at least on our ordinary Guardians. It was supposed to be the updated version of their armor, but when it failed to produce any abilities, we discontinued it.”
“So why are you showing it to me?”
“Because, Prince Theran,” she looked at him and smiled, “There was a theory. You see, our Guardians are given their armor when they are fourteen, and there are modifications made to take into account their growing. However, they are young when they first suit up. They have no experience of the outside world and very little interaction with each other outside of classrooms and the training arena. It was suggested by our lead scientists that this suit requires a mature mind to possess it.” She looked back at the black armor, admiring it. “Only then—they say—will its ability be unleashed.”
“Wait.” Theran stepped back, lifting his hands to put distance between her and himself. “You want me to put that on and gain a magical power?”
She looked at him, unimpressed, then shrugged. “Your father was magical, was he not?”
“Yes, but this is different.”
“And your brother—oh, and even your cousin, Loroth.” She smiled at his disbelief and nodded. “Yes, I know of Loroth, but the point remains...” She shifted her gaze back to the armor, “You have magic within your bloodline, and you have the ability to control it.” She looked back at him and smiled. “I merely offer you a chance to unlock that power because you never know, it might be your key home. Oh, don’t even try to argue. I know you are here because Verddra sent you, and you don’t really care about finding ‘Fawn’, but you’re still here because you don’t have a way home. That...” she pointed at the armor then leaned in to Theran and whispered, “might contain the ability to teleport.”
He crossed his arms, unmoved. “And how do you know I wouldn’t just teleport out of here and never give you back the armor?”
“Oh, if you manage that feat...” She moved to brush past him then paused and cast her gaze at him. “Then the armor is yours to keep—courtesy of Jechorm of course.” She smirked at him when he gave her a glare.
With that she left, and Theran stared at the dark, soulless suit of armor.
16
Marching through the corridor, Vixen had one goal in mind—find Haiken and discuss more strategies. As much as she was grateful to help the Guardians with their endeavor, she wondered how Honroth was faring back in Cuskelom.
“Vixen!”
Hearing her name drew Vixen out of her thoughts, and she spun around. As expected, she saw Ceras walking down the hall toward her. What she had not expected was seeing Mel’Nath, Ardenn, and Wol’van walking with her. Vixen wasn’t sure if she should smile or frown at seeing her weapons mentor. She furrowed her brows and looked at Ceras. “What is it? What are you all doing here?” She cast her gaze over the small crowd.
“We have a slight problem.”
“Several in fact,” Mel’Nath added but watched as Ceras looped her arm through Vixen’s and dragged her to a neighboring room while the others followed.
Once the door sealed shut behind them, Vixen noticed the empty conference table spread out before them and the wall of glass on the far side of the room, overlooking the city of Jechorm. The lights did not activate at their presence, allowing the five of them to meet here without being seen by anyone outside or elsewh
ere in the hall.
Crossing her arms, Vixen turned to her friends, nodded a greeting to Wol’Van, then frowned as she shifted her gaze between Ceras and Mel’Nath. “What do you mean? What problem?”
“First off,” Ceras began listing it off on her fingers, “someone is here to kill you. His name is...Loren? Lowke?”
“Lorrek,” Ardenn corrected. “He’s about this tall,” she gestured in the air at Lorrek’s height. “Black hair, blue eyes—pale. Doesn’t talk a lot.”
“But he’s a magic user,” Mel’Nath interjected. At Vixen’s quizzical glance, he shrugged. “We tried to kill him earlier, but everything went straight through him, like he’s not even solid.”
“And Aden and his gang are here—and your parents.” Wol’Van folded his arms and waited.
It was too much information too fast. Vixen had a hard time comprehending all of it. “Wait—what?” She motioned for silence then leveled each of them with a look. “Why are Aden and my parents here? What are all of you doing here?” She gestured to them.
Ardenn shrugged then looked at Ceras. “I wanted to meet my mother.”
Ceras smiled then locked eyes with Vixen. “Long story.”
“And I wasn’t going to let the women have all the fun.” Mel’Nath shook his head.
“I came to make sure this Lorrek fellow didn’t kill you.” Wol’Van shrugged.
A teasing smile tugged at Vixen’s lips as she looked at her weapons mentor. “I didn’t know you cared so much.” This only earned her a scowl from him, but she dismissed it with a smirk and then focused on the others. “Are you sure it’s ‘Lorrek’ who wants to kill me?” She moved to the table and sat on the edge.
Mel’Nath, Ceras, and Ardenn shared a look then glanced at Vixen and nodded. “Yes!”
“That just doesn’t make any sense.” Vixen brought her fingers up to the sides of her head and rubbed her temples until she finally dropped her hands and looked with confusion at her friends. “I married Lorrek’s cousin, Loroth.”
“Maybe Lorrek was jealous?” Ardenn raised her brows, but Ceras gave Vixen a hard look.
“Wait—you are married?” She threw her hands in the air. “Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding?”
“First off...” Vixen lifted her hand to cease any further rants from Ceras then gave her a firm look. “The wedding was unexpected. Yes, he and I were already engaged, but we ran into trouble with some assassins, and they were going to let me live because they knew me, and the only way they would let both of us go was if we were married, so we made our vows then and there.”
“Again,” Ceras glared at her. “Why wasn’t I invited? You got married in the middle of a standoff in a House?”
“Well, you weren’t there. Secondly!” Vixen cut off further protest from her friend by rising to her feet and crossing her arms. “Loroth died several years ago.” Then she looked at Ardenn and shook her head. “No, Lorrek wasn’t jealous. On the contrary, he did everything he could to save Loroth.” With a frown, she glanced at Wol’Van. “You said Aden was here as well?”
He nodded. “Kilroth’s brother is here as an assassin for the Crucible after the Guardian Games.”
“Which brings us back to the real complication of the century.” Ceras pulled everyone’s attention back to herself, but she fixed her gaze on Vixen. “Jechorm is attacking Cuskelom, and the Senate plans to deploy all Guardians there to add to their strength. Not only that, but they will also allow all Hunters within their ranks.” All traces of humor faded from her face, and the usually light-hearted assassin stared at Vixen. “The Guardian Games will be early this year, and instead of simply all the rebel Guardians fighting each other, all the Guardians and Hunters will be allowed to kill the rebels.”
Vixen began shaking her head before Ceras finished speaking. “But how? How will the regular Guardians and the Hunters know which are rebels and which are not?”
Ceras shrugged her small shoulders. “Technology, my dear—it does wonders for this place.”
Vixen frowned. She didn’t like the sound of any of this. Haiken and the other Guardians needed to know. She furrowed her brows. “Are you sure about this?”
“I was there, observing the meeting when Pelham and Asalda presented this change to their queen.” Ceras nodded and then remembered, “Oh, and there are now two kinds of Hunters—those who want to kill the Guardians and those who want to protect them.”
“And you are against the other Hunters?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” Vixen nodded then glanced at the others. “Keep them distracted and off my trail. I’m working closely with some rebel Guardians, and I need to tell them of these developments.” She headed for the door, but Wol’van hollered after her.
“What am I supposed to tell your parents?”
She stopped at the door, gripped the frame, and then looked back with a smile. “Tell them I’ll see them around. Oh, and tell Aden not to cross my path.”
Mel’Nath frowned. “I thought you were good friends with Aden.”
Ceras whacked him on the back of the head. “Don’t you remember that prediction about Aden being the death of Vixen?” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “If Aden is here and someone is hunting Vixen, then the chances of Vix actually surviving an encounter—”
“Are very slim,” Ardenn finished for her mother, and Ceras nodded.
Rubbing the back of his head, Mel’Nath knitted his brows. “What are you talking about?”
Vixen rolled her eyes and sighed, exasperated, then set her gaze on her friends, giving them a forced smile. “Ceras, give him a history lesson. I have to go talk to the Guardians.”
“Let me come with.” Wol’Van stepped forward.
But Vixen stopped him by lifting her hand and shook her head. “No. Tell my parents and Aden what I said. I’m counting on you.” With that, she turned and left.
Mel’Nath—still rubbing the back of his head—shot Ceras a puzzled glance. “What was that about?”
With a sigh, Ceras folded her arms over her chest and stared at him. “To put it simply: a long time ago Vix was assigned a kill, but Aden had already targeted him as well. They ran into each other. Needless to say, things didn’t go over too well, and neither of them reached the target before the guards were alerted. They fled to a nearby carnival and hid in a tent until the guards passed, but Vix soon discovered the tent they were in was that of a fortune teller. And Vixen, being Vixen, seized the opportunity and had the fortune teller read her palm, and the woman told her that Aden was going to be responsible for her death. Of course that caused the two of them to have a standoff immediately, but Aden insisted he didn’t want to kill her. Vixen—again being unorthodox—decided that instead of killing him herself or getting as far away from him as possible, she would join forces with him.”
“And that’s how she left the Houses and joined the circle of thieves.” Wol’Van nodded, but Mel’Nath looked between the two, still confused.
“But why would she do that?”
Smiling, Ceras stepped close to Mel’Nath and whispered, “Ever heard of the saying ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer?’ Well, Vix would rather embrace her killer than have him surprise her.” Then Ceras pulled back—the grin still on her face. “But then again, who believes all that superstition anyway?”
“No one.” Ardenn slipped her hand into Mel’Nath’s then smiled up at him. “But some of us like to be safe rather than sorry.”
Mel’Nath scowled down at her. “You’re too much like your mother.”
“But I learned from the best.”
He stared down at her then looked at Ceras with furrowed brows. “Who exactly is her father?” He pointed at Ardenn, and Ceras’ raised her brows then shook her head.
“Not you, I assure you.”
“That’s a relief.” Wol’Van grunted. “We don’t need a junior Mel’Nath among the thieves.” Mel’Nath was about to protest, but the weapons master dismissed him with a g
esture and turned to the door to leave. He looked over his shoulder, “We should relay Vixen’s message to the others.”
“And set all things into motion.” Ceras smiled at him then brushed past Wol’Van and exited the room.
Wol’van said nothing to the others but turned and followed the assassin.
Mel’Nath shared a look with Ardenn, noticed her smirk and the cocky way she carried herself now, and he frowned but fell into step with her as they left the room. She was growing up too fast, and already Mel’Nath had seen how several of the thieves back home had looked at her like she was a piece of meat. He didn’t like it—didn’t like it one bit, and he would do everything in his power to protect her. He planned to have a very, very long talk with Ceras after all this was finished.
Pocketing away all these thoughts for another time, Mel’Nath walked through the corridor with the others unaware of the black, unblinking camera eyes in the corners of the halls watching them.
17
Vixen stepped off the elevator. “Haiken!” She looked around the underground headquarters of Haiken and his friends only to find Anita at the monitors observing some activity. Forcing herself to calm down with a breath, Vixen approached the Guardian then noticed on the screens her friends passing through a corridor and stopping at a lift before loading onto it and descending. Vixen’s mouth ran dry at the sight, and her heart plummeted. She shot Anita a look but didn’t know where to begin.
Anita—who had sat back in her chair to watch Vixen’s reaction—smiled. “Friends of yours?” At Vixen’s pale stare, Anita lifted her hand to ease any concern. “Not to worry. I noticed the meeting you had with them in the conference room, and I looped old security feed, so no one else would see, but next time they should call first—set up an agreed meeting or something, so they won’t blow anyone’s cover.” With her elbows on the armrests of her chair, she laced her fingers across her chest and tilted her head. “Who are they anyway? That guy with that hat is handsome.”
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 56
