The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set

by Kelly Blanchard

  He made his decision and rose to his feet, standing directly in front of the statue as the blast hit.

  Grinding his teeth and clenching his fists at his sides, he cast a shielding spell around himself and the statue and withstood the blast.

  In Jechorm, as Ceras stood before Asalda holding a gun to her head, she made her decision. She pulled the trigger and shot Asalda between the eyes. She watched her crumple then lowered her weapon and jutted her chin. “It’s a start.”

  With that, she glimpsed back to where Aden restrained the other director of the Guardian Program, and she narrowed her eyes. Turning around, she went to him, nodded her thanks to Aden, and then focused on Pelham. She brought her gun to this chest. “I’m in charge of the Guardian Program now, and you will do exactly what I say. Do we understand each other?”

  Pelham swallowed but then slowly nodded.

  Ceras smiled and lifted her weapon away from him. “Wonderful.”

  On the tower in Cuskelom, Theran, Heldon, and Verddra climbed to their feet after the brief blast, due to Theran touching the stone, had knocked them down. They paused as they watched the new and much more powerful blast shoot across the field, killing everyone it touched.

  A realization hit Verddra, and she smiled as she set her gaze upon Theran. “A castle of Athorim—here. How convenient.”

  Theran shifted uneasily on his feet as he regained his balance. “What makes you think that?”

  “I was originally from Athorim, Prince Theran—or have you forgotten? I still have pure magic in my veins.”

  “And I have the feeling it doesn’t mix well with tainted magic.”

  Verddra shrugged, only to wince when pain lanced through her broken arms. “I manage.” Then she began working a spell, bending pure magic with tainted magic.

  Elsewhere in the castle, Caleth felt a sickening tingle under his skin, and he looked up at the tower. “Verddra, do not do this.” But he knew she could not hear him.

  On the tower, she continued her chanting, and the storm above her gathered its strength while the stones beneath her stirred with shades of black, white, and gray—swirling, twirling, and churning.

  Then everything stopped.

  Theran lowered his stance ready for anything thrown at him, and he narrowed his eyes as Verddra grew still.

  She slid her gaze down to where Heldon had stabbed her shoulder.

  The blade of his handblade stabbed through the back of her shoulder. “I don’t know much about magic,” Heldon told her, seeing how the blade of his weapon began to pulse white, but he ignored it as he kept his gaze on her. “But I know you can’t do anything if you’re dead, and this blade can slice right through you with minimal effort. I will sever your spine, but I’d rather not because I want you to heal Honroth.”

  She began to chuckle, and this only hardened Heldon’s hazel eyes, and he pressed the blade further into her shoulder. “Silence! You will do as I say!”

  She smiled at him then shook her head. “How can I when you are draining my power from me?” Her gaze dropped to his handblade which now glowed dangerously with an unnatural light.

  Heldon widened his eyes and yanked the blade from her shoulder.

  Dizziness washed over her, and she furrowed her brows. “I’m so tired.” She fainted.

  “Heldon, catch her!” Theran moved forward as she sank to the ground, but he slowed, knowing if he touched her again he would break her, and he didn’t want to do anything that would hinder her from helping Honroth.

  Finally, he came to her side, and Heldon was already there. His younger brother checked her pulse in her neck then looked up at Theran. “She’s still alive, but what happened?”

  Theran shook his head. “Let’s take her to Caleth. He might be able to heal her in time for her to heal Honroth.” He gestured for Heldon to pick her up, and the younger prince checked his handblades to make sure the weapon had returned to bracelet form before sliding his arms under her and lifting her.

  As Heldon did so, Theran saw how the handblade on his right hand had yet to retract to bracelet form but remained as a gauntlet. Thinking nothing of it, he motioned for Heldon to follow as he led the way back to Caleth and Honroth.

  On the edge of the field, Fawn blasted Roskelem with the power of the lightning, but he lifted his hands to shield himself. Suddenly, the lightning went around Roskelem.

  Once it passed, Roskelem stood with his hands still lifted and his eyes squeezed shut. After a moment, he realized the hairs on his arms weren’t standing up and there was nothing pressing against him, so he opened his eyes and saw the stunned look on Fawn’s face. At first he was confused, but as he looked at himself, he realized he was untouched, and he began to chuckle, which turned into laughter.

  “You still think me to be weak?” He moved to summon his power.

  However, Fawn had had enough. While she was mildly impressed with his ability to deflect a full bolt of lightning, she was finished with Roskelem’s games. “You think yourself to be so powerful. You forget it is my magic running through your veins. It still obeys my command. I believe I will use it now.” With a flick of her wrist, she used her magic to break Roskelem’s left arm, causing him to howl in pain.

  He reached over to grip the broken arm, clenching his teeth as pain flared through his body. He glared at Fawn. How dare she? He started toward her. “I’m not finished—”

  Fawn lifted her brows. “I believe you are.” With another flick of her wrist, she broke his other arm, causing him to growl in pain, but he didn’t stop. Baring his teeth and in obvious pain, he still trudged toward her. She gave him a look. “Do you not recognize defeat when it has been handed to you? You. Are. Finished.” With that, she flicked her wrist again and broke his leg, sending him crashing to the ground.

  He howled as he hit the ground, and he began cursing loudly until he rolled onto his back and saw Fawn standing over him. He grew very still because he recognized the power she had. He glared at her. “Well? Finish me off!”

  She tilted her head. Her dark hair cascaded to the side. “You have been defeated. Accept that.”

  But through all his pain, he began to chuckle and shake his head. “No—no you don’t understand. I haven’t lost. Mordora is still out there, and she will do as I told her. She is very intelligent and very skilled...”

  Fawn narrowed her eyes when she heard mention of Mordora. She immediately spread her senses throughout the battlefield, trying to find the princess, but she couldn’t. Roskelem was right. Mordora was gone—somewhere. However, at the same time, she sensed Vixen’s distress in the field. Fawn didn’t have time to deal with Roskelem and find Mordora and seek out Vixen. She looked back at the king of Serhon, glared at him, then flicked her wrist again, breaking his other leg for good measure. “Stay down.”

  Stepping away from him, Fawn reached out to Kinnard’s mind. “Hello dear brother, I’ve left King Roskelem on the field on the southeast side of the battle. He won’t be going anywhere. Come and retrieve him. Be sure he is taken into King Caleth’s custody.”

  Without awaiting any confirmation from him, she withdrew, gave Roskelem one last look, and then moved to magick away, yet his voice stopped her.

  “Why won’t you kill me?”

  She paused and stared at him. “Because you’re not worth it.” And she vanished.

  33

  Lorrek looked at his hands as they solidified into flesh and bone again. Pain from his wound spread through his veins, and he drew in a breath as he sank to his knees.

  Images flashed before his eyes, and he blinked, confused, trying to clear his vision, but the images appeared before him flickering. Blurry and unfocused at first, but as the shuttering of the pictures stilled, he found himself as a child chasing another boy through the gardens, “Heldon,” the name came to him, and then another child—bigger and with blond hair—crept up behind him, snatched him by the waist and tickled him mercilessly, “Theran,” he remembered. “Theran, let me go!” little Lorrek laughed a
s he kicked at the younger version of Theran and only heard Theran’s laughter.

  He saw the first time he met himself, “Loroth,” the memories corrected. He lifted his hand, and Loroth did the same. “Is he real?” Little Lorrek looked up to his father only to see his father laugh.

  He saw the first time he discovered his magical abilities as a lad. For days he had stayed in his chambers, obsessed with his newfound skill, and didn’t notice the sun rising and setting on the horizon until his mother knocked on the door and came in, “Oh Lorrek, what is wrong? Are you ill? We haven’t see you for two days now.” He tried to reassure her he was fine, but she insisted on taking him to the healers. Yanking his hand from hers, he conjured a small pink rose and held it up to her. She stared at him, amazed.

  He saw in the following years the first of many hunting trips he and all his brothers would take alongside Atheta, Haskel, Gremina, and Mordora. How they laughed! How perfect those years had been.

  Then he saw himself watch Theran leave the palace one night and return a drunken mess.

  Later he watched Heldon sneak out with Theran and both stumbled back with mad laughter and liquor on their breath.

  He saw the many times Therth doubled as Theran and worked with Atheta. They laughed together, worked well together—truly happy.

  He witnessed the first time Loroth had almost died. Loroth had been in the library to avoid the corridors during a festive evening at the palace while Lorrek performed his duties as prince at the banquet his father hosted. Then Lorrek felt a stillness in his soul, and the feeling filled him with terror and halted him in mid-sentence. Without thinking, he magicked from the ballroom to the source of the terror only to find Loroth slumped unconscious against the desk in the library and his breathing very shallow. The dread he felt in that moment he knew he would never forget, and he was right—watching it replay in his mind, the horror still stung him and caused his stomach to flip.

  After that, the memories became a blur. He met Vixen, went on a few nontraditional jobs with her and witnessed her unmatched skills. He smiled when he recalled the marriage between Loroth and her, but things turned dark again when Vixen screamed at Lorrek to save Loroth, and Lorrek found him unconscious on the floor—heartbeat faint, and that was when he bound the three of them together with magic and then he saw the other times he saved Loroth.

  Then training with Verddra, her proposition, him magicking Loroth, Vixen, Therth and himself to Jechorm. He watched Therth ask what he was to say to Atheta, and he winced when he heard himself give him permission to reveal his real identity.

  If he was responsible for how all things turned out, it was in that moment when he spoke without thought.

  Memories blurred again—meeting Erita, Inecha, Adonis and Skelton for the first time, Loroth and Roskelem’s talk, Vixen and the Guardian’s fight, and Therth and Atheta’s affair then Roskelem’s attack, and Lorrek magicking her and Loroth out of there to the world of Endleath.

  Finally, the memories stilled and silenced, and Lorrek snapped open his eyes wide as he gasped and looked down at Vixen.

  Shaking his head, he reached for her with trembling hands. “Vixen, Vixen...I’m so sorry.” He cradled her head on his lap and brushed her hair out of her dirtied face. “Please, open your eyes.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, he fought back tears and took a deep breath then shook his bowed head. “No—not like this. I won’t be responsible for your death as well.”

  Determination flared in his blue eyes, and he placed a hand on the wound on her chest. Focusing all his strength, he bowed his head into her shoulder and pushed all his healing energy into her. He felt the bleeding stop, the tissues bind together again, the veins mend once more, and the skin close, but there was no breath.

  Pulling back, he looked down at her, having done all he could do for her, but she still didn’t open her eyes.

  His face twisted and brows creased as he tried to bottle up his grief. His breath hitched in his chest, and he stared at her face, willing for the slightest of movements.

  Loroth had died saving him, but had he really saved his life only for Lorrek to kill Loroth’s wife? Lorrek refused to believe that.

  Holding Vixen close to him, he lifted his gaze to the heavens and screamed, “I’ll do anything! Just bring her back—please!” A tear slid out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. “I will set all things right. I will make right the wrongs I’ve done. Just do not have her death on my hands—please, I beg you.” He then buried his face in her hair and wept.

  Suddenly a gust of wind whipped around them, and Lorrek hesitated then lifted his eyes to see the girl, Fawn, standing before him.

  She looked concerned as she drew near, and she motioned to Vixen. “Let me take her.”

  Lorrek stiffened his hold on Vixen, pulling her away from Fawn’s grasp. “You stay back!”

  Yet Fawn gave him a patient look as she tenderly approached. “If you give her to me, I might be able to save her, but you need to do it now.”

  “She’s already gone!”

  “Trust me.”

  Lorrek stared at her then looked down at Vixen in his arms. His hands shook. He had done so much wrong. He had so much blood on his hands. He didn’t want to be responsible for her death as well, so he shifted to place her into Fawn’s arms.

  His voice broke as he whispered to her, “Please...take care of her...”

  Fawn nodded. “I will.” And she vanished.

  Lorrek stared after her—an emptiness now in his soul.

  He looked down at his hands. The spell he had placed on the dagger worked. It had thoroughly restored him—body and mind. However though, he had much yet to set right, so he drew in a deep breath and magicked away—back to Sirros.

  Once he reappeared, the Guardians, Wol’Van, and Mel’Nath drew their weapons on Lorrek, who looked at them, unamused. “You don’t need these now. My memory has been fully restored.” He snapped his fingers and pocketed all their weapons away into another dimension, causing an outcry among them. “I’ll return them once I have finished here. Now if you’ll excuse me...” He turned and stopped short to find Nyvera holding a dagger at his throat.

  Slowly he lifted his hands in the gesture of surrender but never broke eye contact with her. “I understand your hatred toward me.” He nodded at her and noted that beyond Nyvera was Sirros. He still lived but was fading. “Now, I will allow you to punish me in any way you deem fit, but there are things I must do, and restoring your husband to health is the first thing.”

  “Where is my daughter?” Nyvera demanded.

  He hesitated. No good would come from him saying he had killed Vixen, and there would be more questions than cooperation if he told her that Fawn had taken her. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Nyvera. “You have to trust me.”

  He shifted to move past her, but she stayed in front of him never lowering her blade. “Why should I trust you?”

  He merely gave her a look then smirked. “Because you have no choice.” He brushed past her.

  As he walked, Lorrek noticed their charred surroundings and the lack of fighting, and he frowned and cast Haiken a glance. “What happened?” He knelt beside Sirros and began to heal him.

  Haiken took in their surroundings. “A sonic blast swept through the field, and all my readings indicate the origin of the blast is the castle itself.” He nodded at it. “Whatever it was, it instantly disintegrated anything it made contact with, but my shield held up against it.”

  Lorrek digested all this with a nod then met Sirros’ eyes as he finished healing him. “My sincere apologies, my lord. I have not been in my right mind, but I assure you, I am myself once more.”

  “Good to hear.” Sirros gave him an appreciative nod as he rose to his feet. He stepped up to the fellow sorcerer and punched him in the jaw as hard as he could, causing Lorrek’s head to snap to a side, but the prince of Cuskelom didn’t flinch otherwise. Wringing his now-aching hand, Sirros shook his head. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”


  Lorrek met his gaze coolly. “Understood.” Then he turned to the others. “Secure the field but especially Roskelem—and whomever is controlling the Jechorian army. I will go to that castle and restrain Verddra myself.” With that, He magicked away.

  Watching him go, Nyvera glared at him before shifting her gaze to look at her husband, relieved he was well. She glanced to the Guardians as she realized each of them had brought a hand to the side of their helmet as if listening to something.

  Finally, Haiken lowered his hand, shared a look with the other Guardians, then nodded and focused on Nyvera. He reached up and pulled off his helmet. Confusion mingled with joy lit his eyes as he smiled. “Vixen’s friend, Ceras, just ordered all the Guardians to stand down and return to Jechorm. Apparently she’s taken control of the Guardian Program, and all Guardians will be recognized as humans.”

  Relieved to hear that the situation in Jechorm was under control, Nyvera gave him a curt nod. “Good. Guess we should be going.” She seized her husband’s hand. “We need to find our daughter.”

  Haiken frowned. “Wait...what should we do?”

  Sirros looked at them, confused. “What do you mean?”

  Sharing a look with his fellow Guardians, Haiken sighed and stepped toward the husband and wife. “We...we grew up believing we were mere Jechorian technology, but we came to learn otherwise, and your daughter, Vixen, aided us. Now...now we don’t know where she is, and…what should we do now? Return to Jechorm?”

  Sirros exchanged a look with his wife. He wanted nothing more than to magick away and find Vixen’s life signature, but Vixen had helped these people, so they should help them as well. “Are there others of you in Jechorm?”

  “Yes, many.”

  “Go—take your brothers and sisters in arms and help them understand what it means to be human. Discover a life outside of commands and fighting. If what you say of Ceras is true, she will help you—all of you—through this transition.”