Kyra didn’t move to defend herself.
Vixen’s handblade impaled her chest.
The red-haired humanoid looked down at the wound then glanced back up at Vixen. “Like I said, no ordinary blade can harm me.” With that, she grabbed Vixen’s wrist then slowly pulled the handbladed sword out of herself. Once the weapon was out of her body, Kyra thrust her other hand out and gripped Vixen by the throat, lifting her off her feet.
Vixen kicked and struggled, but with several determined steps Kyra slammed her back against the wall and held her up by the throat. The humanoid’s brightly glowing eyes stared at Vixen, recording all her vital signs and her survival tactics for future reference against other humans.
Vixen’s vision blurred and blotted with black spots as she struggled to breath. The pressure on her throat made her head spin, but her fighting instincts kicked it.
With a shout, she drove Tobias’ sai into Kyra’s throat, and the humanoid’s grasp lessened by the momentary disorientation. Vixen seized the opportunity and broke Kyra’s grip on her then side-kicked the humanoid back across the hall.
Now freed, Vixen rose to her full height, cracked her neck then glared down at Kyra, who gracefully rose to her feet with Tobias’ sai still in her throat. Glimpsing down the hall to Tobias, who lay too still now—and fully aware that Ceras had yet to emerge from the room, Vixen frowned then fixed her hardened gaze back on the humanoid. “I don’t have time for this.”
As she advanced upon Kyra, she grabbed blade after blade after blade from her vest and flung them one after another after another at the humanoid, striking her repeatedly in the chest. Each strike took the machine back a little, and finally when the attacks stopped, Kyra looked up and saw Vixen fell upon her with her face twisted in fury.
Vixen grabbed the sai still in Kyra’s throat with one hand and then brought the sword of her handblade up to the other side of Kyra’s throat then sliced—decapitating the machine. The bloodless head fell off the shoulders, and the body crumbled.
Sighing with relief, Vixen knelt beside the body, retrieved all her blades—sheathing them away—and found a keycard. She rose to her feet and shot Tobias a quick look. “I’ll be right back.” Taking a deep breath, she covered her nose and headed into the unbreathable air of the cell to free Ceras.
She found Ceras in a chair bound by metal restraints.
“What are you doing?” Ceras’s eyes flashed with fury, but Vixen gave her a hard look of her own, not daring to speak in this air, and she held up the keycard. Finding a slot in the chair, she inserted the card and watched as the restraints opened then she grabbed Ceras by the wrist and dragged her outside.
Once in the hall, Vixen allowed herself a heavy breath of clean air and noted how the door to the cell shut behind them. Satisfied with that, she glanced at Ceras then noticed her bleeding hands. She narrowed her eyes. “Your hands...”
“My nails.” Ceras lifted her bloodied hand to show that all but her thumb nails had been pried off. “They must have known about the poison...” She trailed off when she saw Tobias, unmoved on the floor down the hall. “Tobias.”
Remembering her young friend, Vixen completely forgot about Ceras and swirled around to race back to Tobias. A chill settled on her soul as she approached, seeing how still he was, but she held her breath as she neared him, hoping to catch the slightest movement of Tobias’ chest rising and falling with a shallow breath.
She saw nothing. Her throat ran dry, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
“Tobias?” She dropped to her knees beside him and hesitated as she reached out to him.
He looked as if peacefully asleep—even a slight smile still upturned the corner of his lips as though he found something humorous in death, as he had always found in life.
Vixen’s breath hitched in her chest, and she didn’t know what to do. “Tob—”
“Vixen!”
Hearing her father’s alarmed shout, Vixen whipped around and launched herself to her feet. “What took you so long? Do something!” She gestured sharply at Tobias’ lifeless body, and Sirros hesitated—caught off guard that his daughter was alive and well but her friend lay dead on the floor.
Determining the status of the situation, Sirros nodded and headed to the body of the young man. When he knelt beside him, he saw how Vixen knelt on the other side, and he gave her a firm look. “I was busy trying to mask the call you sent out. Every magic user in the Jechorm could have heard it! Lorrek could have heard where and who sent it—”
“Lorrek is the one responsible for this.” Vixen motioned sharply at Tobias. “So do something about it.” She shoved herself to her feet as Aden sped around the corner and skidded to a stop. Vixen saw him then sighed and bowed her head, closing her eyes, knowing this would not be good.
Aden’s gaze immediately fell on the young thief’s fallen form, and he narrowed his eyes and stepped toward him. “Tobias...”
Vixen blocked his path and lifted a hand to stop him. “Papa’s doing what he can.”
“He’s dead.” Aden said exactly what Vixen didn’t want to hear, and she shook her head, swallowing hard.
“No, Papa can help him. He can bring him back.”
“No.” Sirros’ voice caused Vixen to turn back to him, and he lifted his gaze from the body to his daughter. He shook his head and rose to his feet. “He’s gone. I cannot bring the dead back to life—no magic user can.”
“But—”
Sirros cut Vixen off with a gesture. “What is done is done, my dear. I am sorry.” He bowed his head and then lifted his gaze and saw Ceras’s bloodied hands. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he went to her, took her hands in his and healed her injuries while Vixen and Aden went back to Tobias. Once he finished closing the wounds, he gave Ceras an apologetic look. “I cannot make your nails grow back. I’m sorry, but at least you still have your poison in your thumbs.”
Ceras covered Sirros’ hand with her own and squeezed. “You’ve done enough. Thank you.” She looked past the sorcerer to her friends, and although she hated to disturb their moment of farewells, she had to know, “Where is Ardenn?”
This caused Vixen to rise to her feet and turn to her—fiery determination in her eyes. “The Guardians have been sent to Cuskelom as another stage of the battle there. Ardenn is among them...” Ceras began to protest, but Vixen lifted a hand and silenced her with a look before she continued, “But she is with my friends. They will protect her, and it is my understanding that all the Hunters have been summoned to the battlefield as well.” She shifted her gaze to her father and to Aden for confirmation and saw them nod.
Ceras shook her head. “Then what are we waiting for? We need to go.” She turned on her heel and hurried away, but she only managed to take a few steps before Vixen called out to her.
“Ceras.” When the other assassin halted and glanced over her shoulder, Vixen went on, “What weapon will you use? They took your poison—”
“I can still fight! I am trained in all the same martial arts as you, Vix. I can take care of myself. I am going to save my daughter.” Ceras shifted to resume walking, but Vixen’s voice stopped her again.
“I need you to stay here.”
Fire flared in Ceras’s eyes as she spun back around. “Pardon?” Her jaw tightened, and her fists clenched at her sides. She had never argued with Vixen before or opposed her, but now Ceras was ready to fight with all she had.
Vixen’s confidence never faltered as she approached her friend. “I need you to stay here,” she repeated. “Ardenn is safe. My friends will not let anything happen to her, and I will go to Cuskelom personally to protect her. You will be most useful here—with Aden and Lyston—bringing Jechorm down from the inside.”
“Vix—” Aden tried to get her attention, but she shook her head and stayed focused on Ceras.
“You know these buildings better than any of us.” She waited for Ceras to nod before continuing. “Lyston can hack any system. Working together, you can stop the battl
e from here and protect Ardenn.”
Ceras frowned then glimpsed over Vixen’s shoulder to Aden, who had risen to his feet when Vixen first suggested that he stay in Jechorm. Ceras locked eyes with her friend once more. “And what about Aden? Why should he stay?”
“Because...” Vixen tried to keep her expression calm, but she swallowed. “He will take care of Tobias and see to it that he isn’t merely cast aside as some causality of war.”
“And you?” Ceras tilted her head and furrowed her brows. “Why would you go to Cuskelom when Lorrek is looking to kill you? You saw what he did to Tobias!” She gestured sharply at their fallen comrade, but Vixen refused to look.
“She asks a fair question,” Sirros prompted. “You should stay here. Lorrek will, no doubt, be in Cuskelom as well, waiting for you.”
“And that,” she turned to him, “is exactly what I want. He doesn’t remember me, Papa. He doesn’t know who I am or who I was to him. I am simply a target. He doesn’t realize who Tobias was! If I run now, I will forever be running, and he will forever hunt me, and eventually he will find me.” She pressed her lips together. “No—I want him to remember. I would rather die and see the anguish in his eyes as he realized who he killed and what he has done than for me to run and have him remain a cold and heartless hunter.”
Sirros began shaking his head before she finished speaking, and then he lifted a hand. “No—no! I will not allow you to do this. I do not give you permission to kill yourself.”
“You should listen to him,” Aden agreed only to earn a glare from Vixen. It reminded him so much of the old Vixen before she had married Loroth.
“And if you insist on this foolishness,” Sirros continued, “I will not magick you to Cuskelom.” He crossed his arms and planted his feet on the ground.
Vixen chuckled. “You see, Papa, I don’t need your magic to go to Cuskelom. I have my own way.” She lifted her arm to reveal the bracelet form of the handblade on her wrist.
Sirros widened his eyes as he realized what she was about to do. “Vixen, no—” He began to reach for her, but she withdrew with an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry, Papa.” With that, she touched the bracelet and vanished.
“No!” He snatched the air where she had been. Clenching his fist, he brought it to his mouth and closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Then he snapped open his eyes and looked at Aden, who nodded, and that was all Sirros needed. He magicked away, following his daughter’s trail back to Cuskelom.
25
In Nirrorm, Caleth stood on a balcony overlooking the High Court. He had already met with the chief sorcerers of the land to see how they intended to break Verddra’s spell, and he had been impressed. He gave them a few suggestions but then let them resume their tasks. This was their obstacle to conquer.
Now though, he focused on the events of the High Court. At the front sat Prince Moren on the throne—the people had not argued with his placement on the throne because they preferred one of their own to rule them rather than a stranger like Erita. However, at Moren’s right hand side sat the Lady Erita as acting regent because the people recognized her superior knowledge in magic and wanted her to train the young prince in his magic, so he could become one of them.
Though the courtiers agreed to have Lady Lorentha tutor him in the ways of the court, she was nothing more than a shadow in the background, so that was why she did not sit before the High Court with the prince. Instead, Caleth sensed her presence approaching him on the balcony, but he didn’t shift to look her way. She came to stand beside him and peered down at the council below.
He expected her to mention predictions of how she thought Moren might be as the eventual king, or how the High Court might be divided when or if Princess Mordora returned from Serhon to lay claim to the throne. However, she reached across to him and opened her hand. Caleth set his eyes on the small polished black stone in her palm, and he furrowed his brows and shot her a confused look. What was she doing with this rock?
Lorentha nodded to it. “Your sister gave it to me.” She placed it in his hand and watched his fingers curl around it protectively. “She said it is more than a mere rock, but she hopes a demonstration of it is not necessary.”
Caleth chuckled. “Let us pray she is right.”
“Will it protect my children? Will it protect Cuskelom?” Her eyes searched his face for any unspoken answer, but Caleth was well-trained in the art of concealing his emotions.
He looked down at her with utmost confidence. “It is a defense, and it is powerful. Athorim has maintained decades of peace for this very reason, but many have forgotten the power of these stones.” He glimpsed at the stone in his hand and back to Lorentha. “If this stone must indeed be set upon the ground, your sons and your kingdom will be well-protected indeed.” With that, he pocketed away the stone and cast his gaze back upon the High Court below.
For the last several days he had been in the midst of their politics in an effort to establish Moren as the rightful heir, Erita as his regent and master of magic, and Lady Lorentha as his tutor. Now that the terms had been agreed upon and all things were set in motion, Caleth withdrew, and he turned around as he heard footsteps approaching.
Lorentha followed his gaze then frowned when she saw Heldon, Therth, Adonis, and Skelton come into view. She looked back at Caleth. “You go to Cuskelom.” No question—she already realized the truth and nodded then pulled back her shoulders as her son approached. “Heldon.” She went to him and took his hand in hers. “Be safe and protect your brothers.”
“I will.” He embraced her then spoke softly into her ear. “Just stay here—away from the battle where you will be safe.” He pulled back to look into her face and show her how serious he was. “Come to Cuskelom only if you have received official summons from one of us.”
She smiled and touched his face. “You have definitely grown up, and I shall do as you wish.” With that, she stepped back.
Caleth looked at them. “We know not what we venture into, so be prepared.” When they nodded, and after Lorentha gave Therth a hug as well then retreated, Caleth gestured for them to gather round then locked eyes with the lady of Cuskelom. “Give Lady Erita and Prince Moren our farewells.”
“I shall.” Lorentha raised a hand to bid them goodbye, and they vanished from the halls of Nirrorm in a gust of wind. Once they were gone, she slowly lowered her hand then cast her gaze heavenward with a silent prayer for their safety, and then she turned back to the High Court to observe its workings.
In Cuskelom, Vixen had appeared near the Porta Cosmica, and after an argument with the guards stationed there, she finally marched through the corridors to the stables. She learned from the guards that the battle broke out in a valley beyond the city, and though she could teleport there by way of the bracelet, she didn’t know how to direct her destination through the bracelet, so she preferred to use a horse.
As she came to the main corridor in front of the palace, a powerful gale blasted through the hall, and Vixen lifted her arms to shield her eyes, but that disturbance felt familiar. It felt like magic. With her heart racing, she lowered her arms, hoping to see Lorrek in the hall, apologetic over what he had done and claiming he remembered her now, but instead her eyes fell on Caleth—his majestic presence impossible to bypass—then to Heldon and Therth before she recognized the two other men as Skelton and Adonis.
They stood in a circle with backs toward each other and all in a fighting stance. When they took in their surroundings and realized there was no immediate threat, they straightened and lowered their guard.
Vixen, however, remained where she stood—uncertain how to react. She hadn’t seen Heldon since he had teleported out of the upper room in the tavern after talking to Theran about the prospect of a war with Jechorm. That was before everything with Lorrek. The thought of Lorrek reignited her indignation, and her hands curled into fists as she stalked up to Heldon. “Your brother is out of his mind!”
Taken aback by her sudden app
earance and exclamation, Heldon frowned for a moment, but then his lips turned up into a humored smile. “You tend to insult my brothers readily. I recall you claiming Theran was a coward the last time I saw you.”
“Well, he is, but I’m talking about Lorrek now.” Vixen scowled as she crossed her arms, but she noticed how everyone except for Caleth was surprised by the news.
“Lorrek?” Heldon lifted his brows but then shook his head. “Did Theran finally find him? I thought he was dead.”
“Let me put it this way...” She cocked her head to the side and impatiently tapped her fingers on her crossed arm. “The next time I see him, I am going to kill him.” With that, she moved to brush past him, but, out of habit, Heldon lifted the stump of his right hand to stop her.
“Vix, wait—”
She noticed his hand then shot him a wide-eyed look. “What happened?” She looked at Therth and the others for an explanation, but none met her eyes, so she fixed her gaze back on Heldon. “Who did this to you?” But he was shaking his head and pulled his arm back to hide it behind his back.
“Nothing, no one. It’s not important—”
“Heldon.” She took a menacing step toward him.
“Verddra.” Therth interjected and gained Vixen’s attention and a glare from Heldon, but the cousin to the prince nodded his head. “Verddra took it—as a way to stop him from using his handblade to escape.” Then he lifted his head and straightened as if remembering an important detail. “He believes if he had a handblade, the gauntlet would still form over his hand, and he could use it like an ordinary hand.”
Vixen snapped her gaze back to Heldon and narrowed her eyes. “Is that true?”
Heldon shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a possibility, but it’s never been—”
“Use mine! Well, it’s Theran’s, but he gave it to me for safekeeping.” She began tugging at the bracelet to push it off her wrist. “It gets in my way anyway.”
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 64
