The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set

by Kelly Blanchard

  Vixen ignored the talk and wrinkled her nose at the odor but continued removing the bandage. “An infection has set in. I need fire. Someone, start a fire.” No one moved. Vixen looked over her shoulder and glared at them. “Theran, I understand you can’t, but Zoyra and...you!” She jutted her chin to Draben. “Get wood. You,” Vixen nodded at Reven, “find a dry location and get ready to start a fire.” Then she turned her attention back to Lorrek’s arm and continued to tend to it.

  Frowning at the assassin’s abrupt commands and how Theran seemed to be omitted from them, Draben muttered under his breath but followed after Zoyra. “Why doesn’t that...Theran fellow need to do anything?”

  Zoyra bent down to begin gathering sticks then shoved them into Draben’s arms. “If he touches anything, it breaks. That is the power of his armor, and that is how Lorrek’s arm was broken in the first place.”

  Draben let Zoyra stack sticks and small logs into his arms, and he trailed her around as she hunted for more. “But you have similar armor, and obviously you don’t have that...ability.”

  “My ability is different.” Zoyra sighed. She hated explaining all of this to ignorant people, but she sensed Draben wouldn’t let the topic go, so she gathered more sticks and pushed them into his arms. “I was part of the Guardian Program in Jechorm—a land with highly advanced technology. This armor is fused with magic, and each suit has its own unique power. While Theran’s ability is to break anything at a touch, mine is to unlock anything at a touch.”

  “Anything?” Draben raised his brows eyes. “Like safes, doors, and things like that?”

  “And secrets people keep locked away. Would you like me to demonstrate on you?” Zoyra lifted her hand as if to touch him, but Draben shied away with a nervous chuckle.

  “No! No...that’s quite all right.”

  Zoyra nodded, lowering her hand. That was what she thought he would say.

  Meanwhile, Reven and Kinnard prepped a place for the fire. The prince of Talhon remained silent as he worked, but she was impressed with his skill. Although he was royalty, he seemed quite familiar with skills of survival.

  Finishing their task, Reven sat back on her heels and cast her gaze to where Vixen tended to Lorrek while Theran kept watch in the background. “What are you intending to do?” Reven asked Vixen.

  Still examining the wound, Vixen replied, “I need to cut open this infection with a hot blade.” She locked eyes with Lorrek. “These blades you gave me—they respond like the handblade, yes?” At his weary nod, Vixen smiled and unsheathed a blade from her new vest. This would be an interesting experiment.

  Reven, however, saw Vixen pull a scale off her vest, and her eyes widened when she saw a blade emerge from what now appeared to be a hilt. Reven slowly rose to her feet—an action that caused Kinnard to stand as well and Theran to step forward. Reven kept her eyes on the blade in Vixen’s hand. “Where did you get that?”

  “This?” Vixen lifted her brows, holding up the black blade. “Consider it a peace offering from Lorrek after he nearly killed me.” She ignored Reven as she continued inspecting the wound.

  Yet Reven could not let the subject go that quickly. “Is that the same metal use for the handblades?”

  “I would assume so...” Vixen sensed where this was going, and she locked eyes with Lorrek. She really didn’t want to deal with this right now, so she ignored the thymord.

  Reven rose to her full height and crossed her arms. Kinnard watched this and stood back. He sensed nothing good was about to happen. Theran observed her body language and stepped closer, so he was between the two women. He didn’t trust this thymord.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take that vest from you,” Reven told Vixen as Zoyra and Draben stepped into view once more.

  While Kinnard looked uncertain, Theran chuckled at Reven’s demand but didn’t move. Lorrek also cracked a smile, and Vixen smirked, casting a glance over her shoulder at her. “You’re welcome to try.”

  “Uh...what’s going on?” Draben spoke up as he dumped the firewood into the prepared place.

  Reven didn’t answer him but narrowed her eyes and curled her hand into a fist. The gauntlet of her handblade scaled over her hand, but when she tried to move forward, Kinnard grabbed her arm. When she looked at him, he shook his head. “Don’t. Whatever this might be about, let it rest—for the time being, at least.”

  The thymord scowled at him and yanked her arm out of his grasp. “You don’t understand. She possesses the metal of the handblade which belong the thymords—and the thymords only. She has no right to it.”

  “You may be right, but now is not the time to discuss it.” Kinnard stared at her, willing her to understand.

  “He’s right,” Vixen spoke up. “We need that fire lit.”

  “It might take a moment.” Kinnard moved to get the required items in order to start a fire, but suddenly Lorrek stretched his hand out in the direction of the wood and shot a firebolt at it, causing everyone to jump back as the fire roared to life. Kinnard shrugged at he cast the two sticks in his hand into the fire. “Or you could do that.”

  “Don’t move,” Vixen told Lorrek as she rose to her feet. Still ignoring the thymords, she went to the fire with the blade from her vest unsheathed and crouched in front of the fire. She’d never done this before, but she’d see how the handblade worked. This should work the same.

  Reaching the blade over the fire, Vixen watched the flame leap up and graze over the metal. Pulling the blade out, she saw within the black blade danced trapped flames. She knew if she set the blade against some clothing, the clothing would catch on fire, and she could only imagine how hot it was to the touch.

  She returned to Lorrek and sat beside him. She glanced up at Kinnard and Draben. “I’m going to need the two of you to brace him. This is going to hurt—a lot.” Once they were in their positions, Vixen held Lorrek’s broken arm with her blade hovering just over his skin, and she looked at Lorrek, who seemed extremely pale now. “Are you ready?”

  “No.” Lorrek gasped when Vixen cut across the infected skin with the blade that felt like fire. He tried to pull back, but the men held him in place. A fiery orb conjured in his hand instinctively, and he almost threw it at Vixen, but Zoyra moved quickly and pinned his hand down to the log.

  Vixen locked eyes with Lorrek. “Don’t.” She could see the pain in his eyes, in the way he clenched his teeth, and was breathing through his mouth. She could see he was trying to maintain some sense of control, but it was slipping away like water through his fingers.

  Knowing she had to work fast, Vixen focused on the wound, squeezing out the puss and ignoring the awful smell. The hot blade had cauterized the flesh just like she had intended. “This should seal it up and prevent the wound from getting any worse, but the bone...” She looked at the ugly break through the skin. “It needs to be set properly.” And she went to work.

  After a while and with Zoyra’s help, Vixen finally stepped back to observe her handiwork. “That should be good for now, but we need to find a sorcerer to heal that for you.” She locked eyes with Lorrek, who had remained silent throughout the entire ordeal, but his paleness and the sweat on his brow indicated how much pain he was in. “Can you magick yourself back to Radella and Anelm?”

  Lorrek chuckled as he held his arm close to himself. “Nay...magicking is already a strain on the body. It is never a good idea to do so with broken bone.” He took a breath. “It will only make it worse.”

  Zoyra looked concerned, and she glimpsed between Vixen and Lorrek. “What are we going to do?”

  Standing above Lorrek with her arms crossed, Vixen regarded the stubborn prince. Part of her wanted to turn to Theran and blame him for breaking his brother’s arm and putting them in this situation in the first place, but she needed to focus. “We need to find a healer, but none of us can magick anywhere.”

  “Not true,” Theran cut in, and he gestured to the thymords and looked at them. “You possess handblades. You can telepo
rt.”

  Reven smiled an amused but sarcastic smile. “But where? We don’t know this place. We can’t just magick anywhere at will. We need to see it first.”

  Vixen opened her mouth to argue because she knew that wasn’t how the handblades worked since she had used a handblade before, but she stopped herself. Apparently the thymords didn’t like others having knowledge of these blades, and they likely thought themselves the masters of them. Perhaps the blades they had were newer and therefore had different limitations. Regardless, it wasn’t helping their current situation, and she let out a low growl.

  However, Theran noticed Vixen’s vest. “Wait. Didn’t you say that material was the same as the handblade?” Vixen looked down at her vest when he said this, and she realized he was right. Theran went on as he drew near to her, “Do you think you can teleport using it?”

  “No,” Lorrek, Reven, and Draben said at the same time, and they all looked at each other. Lorrek gave a weak motion for them to explain, and Reven nodded at him then looked between Vixen and Theran. “An important key to the teleportation element of a handblade is the little piece of a World Orb each handblade has in them.” She gestured to the black glass embedded on her bracelet before motioning to Vixen’s vest. “Obviously those vests don’t have that. Therefore, she can’t teleport.” With that, Reven crossed her arms.

  Zoyra tore her gaze from the thymord to the ashen Lorrek. Although she had taken off her helmet earlier to help Vixen, even without the data of her computer, she knew he was not doing well. “What are we going to do? He needs medical attention.”

  “Mordora.” Lorrek almost moaned the name. When everyone gave him a perplexed look, he nodded at them weakly as he panted. “She’s the closest sorceress to us. If we can find her, perhaps she will heal me.” Lorrek then shifted to stand, but Vixen braced him when he almost collapsed.

  “Uh, no—not a good plan.” She eased him back onto the log. “You can hardly stand. You need to rest. Besides, she’s possessed by some mythical creature and has a nasty habit of turning people into stone. I doubt she’d take too kindly to us. We need to be ready for her, and right now we’re not.” Vixen tore her gaze off of Lorrek to look at the others as a plan formulated in her mind. “We need a sorcerer or sorceress, and we left a few of them back in that cave with Skelton.” She locked eyes with Zoyra. “You have the memory of their location in your computer?” When the Guardian confirmed this with a nod and seized her helmet, ready to put it on at the first command, Vixen looked at Theran. “You two need to go back to the cave and retrieve one of the sorceresses.”

  Theran shook his head, crossing his arms. “Prince Kinnard can accompany Zoyra, but I’m staying here. Lorrek is my brother and I must stay here for him. Besides...” He glimpsed at the thymords before looking back at Vixen and lowering his voice so only she could hear. “I don’t trust them.”

  Vixen nodded. Kinnard had unique knowledge of this land anyway. It could be beneficial to them. She looked at the prince. “Will you go?” When he nodded and stepped up to Zoyra, Vixen gave them a curt nod. “Go. Retrieve one of them. You know where to find us.”

  Once the two left, Draben crossed his arms and jutted his chin at Lorrek, who appeared to be barely hanging onto consciousness. “Now what?”

  “Now we take turns keeping watching while the rest of us sleep. Lorrek isn’t going to keep watch though.” Vixen fixed her eyes on the stubborn sorcerer prince. “You need to sleep.”

  Lorrek growled under his breath because he wanted to move but knew better. “We must...keep moving. Mordora is close...”

  “And you need your full strength to face her and the power of the...Rykeldan, brother,” Theran reminded him, leaving no room for argument. He looked at Vixen. “I will take first watch. The rest of you, go to sleep.”

  While all of them settled down for the night, Vixen helped Lorrek into a comfortable position for his arm. Once he was situated, she turned onto her side to sleep.

  Lorrek couldn’t sleep. His mind raced. As always, his thoughts sought out solutions to their current situation, approaching from all angles, testing different theories, and weighing different options.

  They needed to find Mordora. When Lorrek spread his senses out in the magic realm, he could sense her just beyond his reach. Something kept her at bay—a shroud of some kind. It made no sense to him, and he felt his mind was clouded, his magic dull. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get a firm grip on Mordora’s signature. His magical senses became disoriented, and the world blurred, but Lorrek squinted, trying to balance himself. This was what he imagined it would be like if he was drunk, but he hadn’t had a single drink. What was happening?

  “You seek to rein me in, pathetic human?” An unfamiliar voice cut through the fog of Lorrek’s mind, and in the magic realm, Lorrek spun around but stumbled as if blind.

  “Who’s there? Who are you?” He didn’t see anyone, but everything around him was shrouded in hues of gray rather than the brilliant strands of colors which indicated different lifeforms. Everything was dull, engulfed in an ever-growing fog.

  Lorrek narrowed his eyes and tried to see through the mist. “What do you want?”

  A chuckle rippled through the fog. “Freedom—from the bracelet which contains me. Revenge—on those who confined me to it. Justice—on those who annihilated all my people.” A cold gale whipped around Lorrek like a snake, twisting the fog into an apparition. Lorrek tried to focus on it in hopes that it would solidify into the being speaking with him, but it didn’t. The voice continued, “Tell me, are these not reasonable desires?” It whipped around him again, sharply this time.

  “Mordora?” Lorrek stood still, willing himself to listen for any footsteps or any movement indicating to the whereabouts of this being.

  “Lorrek?” A familiar voice cut through the gray fog, but Lorrek couldn’t focus on it as he listened to what this strange voice said to him.

  Standing over Lorrek and watching him shift and moan in his sleep, sometimes uttering vague phrases, Theran shot Vixen a look as the assassin checked Lorrek’s temperature. “What is he saying?”

  “I don’t know.” Vixen shook her head. “But he’s burning up.” This wasn’t good. They needed to bring down Lorrek’s temperature, but Kinnard was the only one who was familiar with these lands, and he had gone with Zoyra. Vixen shot Theran a look. “Can your computer tell if there’s a stream nearby?”

  Theran straightened and commanded his computer to search the surrounding landscape for traces of a stream. Finally he nodded. “There’s one just south of us. Not far.”

  Vixen took hold of the hem of her cloak, unsheathed a blade, and began cutting away. “We need to cool Lorrek down to try and bring that fever down.” The fabric wasn’t cutting away as easily as she hoped, and she growled with frustration.

  “Here. Let me.” Theran reached out, careful not to touch Vixen, and took hold of her cloak. At first nothing happened, but then Vixen noticed a tear begin to rip across the fabric where he was holding it, and he easily yanked off a strip and handed it to her. “What are you doing with this?”

  “I’m going to find the stream, dump this in to get it soaked, and I will return, but keep an eye on him.” She jutted her chin at Lorrek before giving Theran a sharp scowl. “And don’t touch him.” Although she couldn’t see his face, the way his body shifted and hands raised, she could tell he was about to argue that it had been an accident, but Vixen shook her head. She didn’t have time for this. She leaned in and lowered her voice. “And I don’t trust them at all.” She cast her gaze to the sleeping thymords.

  Theran looked at them and chuckled. “Well, maybe we could just leave them here.”

  “Perhaps.” Vixen smiled, but she knew it was unlikely. Instead, she wrapped the strip of cloth around her hand and nodded at Theran. “Keep an eye on him.” Then she headed in the direction of the stream.

  As she walked, she had much time to contemplate. Now that she thought about it, it was the first time she ha
d had recently to actually think without being disturbed, and she had a lot to think about. She wasn’t sure where to start. People on that other world had kept her in a coma for a year and had intentionally let her die so she could be revived. That thought reminded her that Lorrek had been responsible for her fatal condition, but she knew he hadn’t been in his right mind at the time. He hadn’t remembered who she was.

  Now though, he was consumed with trying to find a solution for the situation regarding Mordora and all the statues. He was always busy—always trying to help others as if trying to distract himself from other important matters. Vixen wondered what he wanted to avoid but knew it wasn’t her. Despite him almost killing her, they had sorted out the issues between them and came to an understanding. Nevertheless, this didn’t seem to stop Lorrek’s self-destructive path.

  Growling under her breath, Vixen muttered how she wanted to knock some sense into that sorcerer. “I wonder if there’s a spell that does that.” But she dismissed this thought as she came upon the stream Theran had mentioned. Crouching down, she dipped the cloth into the cool water.

  A sound caught her ear, and Vixen whipped around, scanning the dark forest, but it was hard to see at this late hour. She narrowed her eyes. The leaves fluttered, but Vixen didn’t feel any wind on her skin. Cautious, she unsheathed a blade and pulled back from the stream. She searched the darkness with her eyes but knew better than to ask if anyone was there. If they were, perhaps they didn’t realize she was there. Instead, she snuck away from the stream and slipped into the shadows, trying to track the sound.

  Stepping silently around a tree, Vixen turned her head to the right, looking deep into the shadows but seeing nothing, so she looked to her left.

  And almost slammed into Mordora.

  Gasping, Vixen staggered back before she recognized the princess of Nirrorm. “Mordora! What are you...” But then she trailed off when she saw the look on her face—one of darkness, anger, and utterly empty of any other emotions. Vixen widened her eyes as she stepped back. “What is...”