“Your Majesty!” Gershom’s shout snapped Honroth’s head around, and the king saw his sorcerer friend pointing at the field below. Honroth followed his gaze then frowned at what he saw.
A thin line of silhouettes stood atop the neighboring hill—all mounted men with swords, arrows, spears, and axes. Slowly but steadily they came down the hill, and the thin line turned into a blanket of black across the hill—the numbers uncountable.
Honroth recognized the crest of a phoenix reborn, and he frowned. “Roskelem—what is he doing?”
A lone figure—regal and proud—broke off from the rest then stopped in the middle of the field.
“Perhaps he will tell you himself.” Kinnard motioned to the small figure of Roskelem in the field.
Knowing it could be a trap to lure him into the range of Jechorm’s weaponry, Honroth pondered his options for a moment but then shook his head and went to his horse. “I must know his reasoning to oppose us.”
“Sire.” Gershom grabbed the stallion’s reins while Honroth mounted, and he looked up at the king. “It could be a trap.”
“I know.” Honroth nodded then gathered the reins into his hands. He saw Constable Zhirak on his own horse, approaching. “I go to meet King Roskelem to determine why he may fight against me. Man your stations and be prepared. Do not let them break our defenses.”
“Be well, my king.” Zhirak bowed his head to him.
“And so I shall.” Honroth glanced at the other leaders in his group. He still did not trust Countess Verddra, but at this moment he had no other choice. His men were in good hands, so with a nudge of his heel, he spurred his horse into a trot down the hill to meet Roskelem.
Back on the hill, Gershom shook his head and sighed. “Nothing good shall come from this.” He turned to Verddra in time to see her fade from sight.
“I shall watch the king—not to worry,” her voice sounded in the air before she magicked down to the meeting of the kings to eavesdrop.
On his horse, Honroth sat tall and majestic while Roskelem tried to sit taller than Honroth and appear impressive, but his smaller frame ruined his attempts. He sneered because he sensed this.
Honroth noticed Roskelem’s displeasure and sought to calm him immediately. “Your Majesty of Serhon—a pleasure seeing you again, but it is an unexpected surprise. Have you come to partake of the battle?”
“Yes! Yes, of course I have. Why else would I come?” Roskelem looked past Honroth to see how the king of Cuskelom had positioned himself, and he smirked. “Seized the hill, I see.”
“They have their own hill.” Honroth gestured to the Jechorians’ camp beyond the hill across the way. “With whom is your fight? I recall an alliance my father made with you shortly before his passing. I hope you have not come to make void that alliance.”
Roskelem shook his head as he chuckled. “Always proper, my boy! You speak the fine language of the court, but I have no interest in your politics. I am here as a favor for a friend, and we are here to face the Countess Verddra.”
Honroth tried to keep the confusion from his face, but he furrowed his brows. “The Countess sides with me against Jechorm.”
“Well then, boy, I will simply side with the Jechorians against you and her.” With that, he steered his horse around to leave No-Man’s land between the armies.
“Wait.” Honroth halted him, and Roskelem looked over his shoulder. Honroth jutted his chin out. “Who is this friend you mentioned—the one for whom you do this favor?”
A smirk flashed across Roskelem’s features. “Princess Mordora of Nirrorm, of course.” With that, he tipped his head. “I shall see you in the bloodbath.” Another smile, and he rode away.
Honroth glared after him.
Verddra materialized beside him, also watching Roskelem ride off. She cocked her head to the side and frowned. “That man never seems to learn.”
Dragging his gaze from Roskelem’s departing form, Honroth scowled at the woman beside him. “I should feed you to them.”
“Oh, you should.” Verddra nodded but then smiled. “But you won’t.”
Honroth narrowed his eyes. “And why won’t I?”
“Because this is when you need my army the most.” She gestured to the hill as Roskelem took the lead and began barking orders. “He wishes to engage with us in the traditional form of battle—one field, two armies, man against man.”
“Yet it is not merely man against man, and nor is it simply two armies. He has the entire mechanical army of Jechorm as reinforcements! And if Princess Mordora is here, I wouldn’t be surprised if the army of Nirrorm arrives, opposing us as well.”
“That won’t happen.” He hated her utter confidence and expressed this through a glare at her, which she caught then shrugged off as she focused once more on Roskelem’s forces. “I bound all of Nirrorm in a spell. None will leave without my knowledge, and they most certainly would not arrive anytime soon since none can magick from the kingdom.”
So much of this was wrong, but Honroth did not have the time to sort through all of these matters. He turned his horse around and gave Verddra one last hard look. “You will deal with them, but spare Mordora and Roskelem. As for my men and I, we shall face the Jechorians.”
“I have the feeling, Your Majesty, that the lines between allies and enemies will soon be blurred.”
“And I am sure you will wonder which side you shall be on once all this has been resolved.” Honroth leaned from his saddle to put his face in hers and let the truth of his words sink into her soul. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, but once that enemy is vanquished...” He darted his eyes to the forces of Serhon and Jechorm then looked back at Verddra. “I shall once again consider you my foe, so tread with care.” He straightened in his saddle then galloped off the field, leaving Verddra to watch him go and ponder the words he had left her with.
She thinned her eyes. She hated when men belittled her, and perhaps another time she would have the opportunity to show Honroth that she was not one to be trifled with. However, that time was not now.
She reached into the minds of all her men and directed them toward her.
A clattering noise sounded on the hill where Honroth camped, and she looked up then smiled. Her army—outfitted in black, silver, and gold—marched through Honroth’s camp and around the hill in a disciplined manner. Each step was in unison. The shield men led the way with their tall shields and short swords—blades reinforced by Verddra’s magic. Immediately behind them, strong men carried lances and spears. Foot soldiers stood their ground. Further back, the cavalry waited on their horses of black. Halfway up the hill, her numerous archers took position.
They waited for her signal.
She felt the need to release some frustration anyway.
A soldier stopped beside her and dismounted, offering her his horse. Once she mounted, he looked up at her. “Will you fight with us, Milady?”
She smiled down at him. “Of course.” Lifting her hand to the sky, she conjured a sword then watched as Roskelem’s men came charging towards them. She lowered her sword to point at the enemy. “Onward!”
On the hill behind her Honroth watched the charge. He felt detached from all of it. Amid the dead bodies of his own men and the broken machines of Jechorm, Verddra and Roskelem came to fight, as if in their own separate battle but on a shared field.
It seemed ironic in a way he couldn’t describe. Considering what Verddra had done to Nirrorm and to Heldon, Honroth preferred to aid Roskelem against her, but Verddra was helping him against the Jechorians, so he did not wish to turn her army against him as well. “Just stay and wait,” he counseled himself. “Wait and watch.”
Jechorm was his enemy this day. When they made a move, he would counter it.
As he was pondering this, he heard the familiar hum of Jechorian technology being activated, and he sat straighter in his saddle to see what the other army intended to do. Several gunned crafts came over the top of the hill and swooped down into the battle below, shootin
g at Verddra’s men, and other Jechorian soldiers came around the hill to join in the fight.
Sitting back, Honroth sighed then glanced at Zhirak. He wished for another way, but he had no choice. He turned to his men. “The Jechorians are our enemy. Let the Countess and the King of Serhon resolve their own differences, but defend yourselves as you must. For Cuskelom!” He lifted his sworded handblade in the air, and all his men raised their weapons.
“For Cuskelom!” Following their king’s lead, they swept down the hill in the tumult of the battle.
22
Theran stared at the black suit of armor Asalda had introduced to him. For some reason he kept finding himself back in the storage unit, staring at the reflective black visor.
A noise behind him startled him out of his thoughts, and he shifted to see Pelham approaching with several other Guardians, but Pelham didn’t seem to have noticed him, as the man was too busy talking with the Guardians.
“...and remember, wait for our signal. I don’t care if you think you have superiority in the situation. You do not have full view of the arena, so you are to wait for our orders.” Pelham took a gun from its rack on the wall and handed it to one Guardian then gave another gun to another Guardian. Entering a code on a panel, a compartment in the wall hissed open, and Pelham pulled out loads of ammunition and tossed them to the Guardians. “One shot will thoroughly deactivate the rebel Guardians and break through whatever magic shield they may have, but do not waste the shots. We only have a few.” With that, he gestured them away then finally noticed Theran’s presence.
“Ah—our Black Knight.” Pelham came to stand before the suit of armor and admired it. “If you were to ask me, I would say the name is a bit cliché, but Asalda insisted, and if you’ve ever had a woman, Prince Theran, you would know you must do whatever is necessary to satisfy her.” He stared at the armor then shook his head and turned away. “Too bad it will never be utilized. It had such great potential.”
“Asalda offered it to me.”
Pelham stilled when he heard this, and then he glanced over his shoulder to Theran. He furrowed his brows. “Did she now?” He straightened as he comprehended what this meant, and then he began to nod as a smile crept across his face. “Yes, yes, I can see how that would work. You would be a perfect candidate for such potential power.”
Theran made a fist and turned to face Pelham. “I don’t want power. I want to know where Fawn is, and I want to go back to Nirrorm to save my brother.”
“Well then, Your Highness, the answer and the solution lies before you.” Pelham shifted his eyes to the armor then back at Theran. “Because of the technology built into the suit, it has the ability to track down and locate numerous targets simultaneously as well as present to you an accurate reading of their conditions. Not only that, but it grants its wearer superior strength and endurance as well as one unique ability, which has yet to be determined since no one has worn it.”
“And why hasn’t anyone worn it? You have several Guardians who I am sure would volunteer for such a special suit.”
Pelham chuckled then shook his head. “You are right, but you are also wrong. Every Guardian would seize the opportunity to put on the Black Knight, but their armor has been uniquely designed for them and grew with them. The only flaw in this armor is its inability to morph with the younger Guardians, so we put it away in hopes that someday someone with the right motives and proper strength of character would come along.” He stared back at the suit. “In many ways, I suppose, we are still waiting—well Asalda is. I don’t really care anymore.” He shifted to leave, but Theran’s voice stopped him.
“Open it.”
“Pardon?” Pelham lifted his brows as he turned back to the prince.
Theran made an impatient gesture toward the armor behind the glass. “Unlock the display. I will wear it.”
“Are you certain?” Pelham headed toward the armor but cast Theran a puzzled look, and Theran shook his head, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck.
“No—I’m not certain. On the contrary, I am certain this is one huge mistake, but what other choice do I have?” He didn’t mention how he had no intention to persuade the rebel Guardians that they were indeed machines—not now that he knew the truth. If this suit was as powerful as they claimed, he could use that power to get out of Jechorm and go back to Nirrorm or Cuskelom or wherever else he wished. He couldn’t believe he had agreed to Verddra’s terms. Though now that he thought about it, he realized he hadn’t really agreed or had an opinion on the matter before she sent him here. Now he knew he played right into the hands of Asalda and Pelham, but he was not their typical player, and he had no intention to mind their rules.
“Very well then, Prince Theran.” Pelham nodded as he began to type in the code to unlock the display. Once it hissed open and the glass slid down, he turned to Theran with a pleased smile. “You won’t be disappointed.”
“I suspect I won’t,” Theran muttered under his breath then stepped toward the armor.
Elsewhere in Jechorm, Vixen paused in a corridor and brought her hand to her ear. “What was that? Haiken, come again—what did you say? I didn’t catch it.”
“I said I found Ardenn.”
Vixen sighed in relief and lowered her hand. “Oh good—is she all right?”
“If you mean all right as in forced into a Guardian suit and displayed on national television as a rogue Guardian who escaped Jechorm, then yes—she’s fine.” Sarcasm bled through Haiken’s voice, and Vixen could almost imagine the anger flash in his eyes. “Continue going down the hall and turn right, and take the second door to the right, and you’ll see what I mean.”
Before he finished giving her the directions, Vixen headed down the passage then came to the door he mentioned. It slid open at her presence, and she stepped in. The room must have been a small mead hall of some kind with a few tables surrounded by chairs and a counter jutting out of the wall with cabinets above it. At the moment, the room seemed abandoned, but Vixen heard talking, so she looked around until her eyes fixed on a holographic display mounted on the wall.
She saw Ardenn’s distressed face as other Guardians escorted her into their headquarters before they turned their back on the cameras and barred their entrance. “The Human Guardian!” The caption below the picture read.
A woman—smartly dressed and elegantly put together—smiled at the camera as it focused on her once more in the news studio. “And that was the last glimpse of the Human Guardian that we were able to catch. We’ve been informed by the Director of the Program that this specific Guardian disappeared from Jechorm over eighteen years ago with the help of—get this—one of the Hunters! Shocking, isn’t it?”
The camera spanned out to show her co-anchor beside her, a man dressed in a similar business style as Pelham but with a suit and tie. He flashed the woman a smile then shook his head. “You know, Meka, what I don’t understand? Why would a Guardian come back here after all those years of being gone? Did it need to recharge the battery or something?”
They laughed, but Vixen narrowed her eyes—very much wanting to choke the man with his own necktie. She turned to leave, having learned enough, but the female reporter’s words caught her attention.
“And that’s not the only confusing part, Galvin. There are reports that the Hunter, who helped it escape, has also been caught and is being interrogated to figure out where exactly the weakness is in the system.”
Galvin grimaced. “That doesn’t sound very pleasant. You know, I wonder how long a Hunter can survive interrogation techniques of the Program’s Superiors.”
Meka shrugged then tapped a pen on the table in front of her. “I’m sure they can survive for quite a while. They’re assassins and thieves from what I hear.”
“They should make a show based on the lives of a Hunter. That would be entertaining.”
“That would be.” Meka nodded then focused on the camera once more. “But for more exciting news, the Director has announced the Gu
ardians Games will not be cancelled despite this disruption. On the contrary, they will occur earlier this year!”
“Earlier? Already?” Galvin cast his pen down on the table and sat back in his chair. “I’m going to have to look at the charts and see which rebel I like best. You gonna bet this time, Meka?” He saw her hesitate then leaned toward her with a grin. “Oh come on, you always regret it when you miss out on a chance to win millions!”
“We’ll see.” She held up a hand to keep him at a distance but then focused on the news report, but Vixen had heard enough.
She turned on her heel and left the small mead hall. “Haiken, keep an eye on Ardenn, and bring her into your ranks as soon as possible. She will be confused and frightened, so tell her that you are my friend. Put her on the comm if you can, so she can hear me. I’m going to find Ceras.” But first she had to find Lyston to put his hacking skills to use.
In chambers all to himself, Theran—wearing all of the black armor except for the helmet—pulled on the remaining leather gauntlet. He didn’t feel any different or empowered. The armor was unlike any he wore back home in Cuskelom. There, he wore chain mail and metal plates for armor, but this was carefully woven material of technology he did not understand, but it had an organic and natural feel to it. When he first saw the suit in the display case, he imagined how restricting it would be to his movement, yet he was surprised by how natural it fit and moved at his will—almost like another layer of skin.
The door slid open, and he looked up to see Asalda enter. She smiled at him. “I must say, Prince Theran, that suit makes you look quite dashing.” When he scowled at her but said nothing, she shrugged then approached him, taking the helmet from under his arm. As she inspected it, she spoke to him, “The armor is made of nano-organic technology.” She looked at him. “It has the ability to shift and change to fit your personality, but that is only after you have become familiar with the suit and it has learned your movements and habits and so forth.”
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 61
