The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set

by Kelly Blanchard

  Vixen shook her head. “None of that makes sense.”

  “Dragon magic was always unique and confusing—especially to us skilled in magic. As for hybrid dragons still being alive...” Anelm shrugged. “They were when the thymords scattered us kelliphs across the worlds. I know not if they let the remainder of the dragons live in peace.”

  Tired of talking, Vixen charged in with a blurred fury of attack. Anelm moved quickly to parry, dodge, deflect, and riposte.

  Anelm parried hard, but Vixen braced against the parry then swung Anelm’s spear down to the ground. Using all her strength, Vixen slammed her foot into the spear, breaking the handle and letting the head of the spear fall off into the dirt of the arena.

  Vixen watched Anelm lift the jagged but headless end of the spear, and the assassin shrugged. “I think you’re better at fighting with your magic.”

  “You might be surprised.” Anelm swirled the broken weapon—now a sharp staff—then lunged at Vixen with a swift series of attacks, forcing her back until Anelm swept Vixen’s feet out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground. Anelm stood over Vixen then offered her a hand up. “Why are you so furious with Lorrek?”

  The mention of Lorrek caused Vixen to narrow her eyes in anger, and she ignored Anelm’s offered hand but climbed to her feet on her own. “Why are you so enraged at Rykeldan?”

  “That’s different. He and I were destined to be together, yet he destroyed that destiny. Then he had the audacity to try to pretend all was well--that nothing had happened.” Anelm shook her head and clenched her staff tighter now as familiar rage crept into her. “When he broke our Dragon Prophecy, he dishonored me, and I refused to allow that to go unpunished, so I rejected him. Could he let me go?” She shook her head as she chuckled bitterly. “Nay. He had to hunt me down and started wars with both humanity and dragonkin in an effort to find me because I had my friends.” Anelm’s eyes darkened as she thought about this. “He killed so many.”

  “Why didn’t you simply go back to him? Wouldn’t that have stopped the fighting?” Vixen lifted her brows.

  Anelm shrugged then twirled her staff in her hand. “There may have been a time when that was so, but the humans had defiled him. Just as I could not allow his dishonor of me to stand, he could not allow their dishonor of him to go unpunished, so he sought to vanquish them all. Yet at the same time he still wanted me by his side, as though this was just.” Anelm shook her head and curled her lip in disgust. “As you can see, I cannot allow that—not then, and not now. Thankfully, he has no command here, so he will do as I say.”

  With that, Anelm concluded her explanations and looked at Vixen. “Come. I think we have sparred long enough.” She motioned for her to follow. “But what of Lorrek?”

  Vixen tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword as she followed Anelm to the weapons rack. “I don’t want to talk about that. I just wanted to fight. I’ve fought, so I’m fine.”

  Seeing straight through Vixen’s words, Anelm chuckled as she took the sword from her and put it on the rack. She held onto the broken spear to give to the weapons master. “What is it that you want, Vixen?”

  The assassin frowned at the unexpected question. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you want from life?” Anelm turned to face her fully. “You were trained from a young age to kill. You used those skills to steal, but now...now I think you’ve lost your way.”

  Vixen growled under her breath but made a fist, willing herself not to lash out at Anelm. “All I know is that I am tired of all this. For ten years, I followed Theran around as a favor to Honroth. That ended with Lorrek almost killing me. I thought I would get answers—that I deserved answers—but no...instead, we’re hunting down a newly resurrected kelliph and are trying to turn stone into flesh. I’m done with all this.”

  “Then why don’t you just walk away? Right now?” Anelm lifted her brows.

  This question caused Vixen to pause. Why hadn’t she left already? Why hadn’t she given up all this and disappeared? She was an assassin. She knew how to slip away with ease. Yet something held her back, and she sighed as the realization came to her. “I suppose I want to see this through. I’ve committed a decade of my life to see things set right. I’m not going to leave until I know all is well.”

  “And when you leave, where will you go?” Anelm asked as she led the way out of the arena to the table of refreshments. She poured Vixen a cup of water and handed it to her before pouring herself a drink as well.

  Vixen took the drink and downed it, letting the cool liquid soothe her parched throat. She considered Anelm’s question then shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Leskelmor or Aquila—to find the rumored Shadow People. I’m curious about them.” Then Vixen regarded the drink in her hand, looking at her reflection in the water. After a moment, she lifted her gaze to Anelm and stated, “That was an impressive trick your brother did in the throne room, turning the water into fire. What exactly did he do?”

  Anelm tilted her head to a side as she sat at the table and took a sip. “The kelliphs unique power is to turn material from one form into another. That cup for example is wooden, but I could turn it into pure gold.” To demonstrate, Anelm gestured with her hand, and Vixen pulled the cup from her lips and watched in awe as the wood began to turn into gold.

  She quickly set the cup on the table and watched as it completed its transformation. Then Vixen picked it up and felt it was much heavier now, but still she wasn’t convinced. “Lorrek could do this.”

  “No.” Anelm shook her head. “He could give the illusion that it is gold, but it would only be an illusion—one that could last for a while, but eventually it would fade. However, that is real gold.”

  Vixen held it up, inspecting it. In a way she could see how useful this gift would be. If she was ever low on money, all she’d have to do was turn rocks into gold coins, but other than that, she didn’t see how useful it was on a grander scale. She furrowed her brows and cast Anelm a look. “So you can turn water into fire, wood into gold, but on a battlefield, how useful is it—really?”

  Anelm leaned in. “Imagine standing on a battlefield as the enemy forces unleash a volley of arrows—hundreds of thousands of them, and all of them are aimed at you. I could turn those arrows into dust.”

  “And you turn people into stone?” Vixen lifted her brows, staring hard at Anelm.

  Thinning her lips, Anelm sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. “That is something we never did. It could be within the realms of possibility for us, yet we...” She searched for the right term. “We were bound by a creed which demanded we give our enemies a fighting chance—especially humans, because they naturally have a much shorter lifespan than us. We could easily outlive them.”

  Vixen folded her arms on the table and leaned forward to look at Anelm firmly, so as not to miss any small expression that might ghost over Anelm’s pale features. Vixen wanted to know the truth. “You are worried Roskelem somehow unlocked the ability to turn something into another material.” She didn’t word it as a question, but her eyes dared Anelm to protest.

  The princess of Athorim hesitated but finally sighed and lowered her voice. “It is very odd—that particular spell. We’ve never seen any human perform it. I’m not sure if he truly turned them into stone or if he encased them in stone. We don’t know.” She shook her head. “Once I see the spellbook and can look at it, I will determine the origins and hopefully reverse the spell.”

  Vixen did not relax her stern gaze. “If it is a kelliph spell, how did a human manage to work it?”

  Anelm lifted her hands as she shrugged. “I know not. It shouldn’t be possible because our people use two entirely different forms of magic. A kelliph can use the human magic, but it taints us. However, humans cannot use kelliph magic because it is ingrained in our blood and passed down through generations.”

  Vixen sighed. Of course none of this would be simple. “So, other than the dragons, kelliphs, and thymords, are there any other magica
l creatures we should be aware of before they suddenly show up for us to deal with?” She raised her brows.

  For a moment, Anelm scoured her long memory, trying to determine what would be a threat if it appeared here. One name clicked. “The Anicocina.”

  “The Ani...what?”

  “Anicocina. I have never met one, thankfully—only read of their dealings with the thymords. Given our recent dealings with the thymords, I wouldn’t be surprised if we encounter an Anicocina.” Anelm paused as she watched Vixen sigh then gave her a patient look. “The Anicocinas are from a world entirely different from the homeworld of the kelliphs, dragons, or thymords. The thymords used their interstellar travel to go to other worlds. Legends say they came across one torn by a great war. The casualties were unbelievable, yet there was no end in sight for the war. They kept fighting.”

  Anelm leaned forward. “While there were many great races on this world with unique gifts, the Anicocinas were most feared because nothing could kill them. Their mere presence negated any supernatural power one might have. For instance...” she leaned back in her chair and conjured a fiery orb in her hand. “If an Anicocina stood here right now, I would not be able to do this. I would not be able to access my magic.” She closed her fist, extinguishing the fire. “However, the good news is, they have no effect on humans.” She smiled at Vixen.

  Vixen frowned. “You said they can’t be killed?”

  “Any sword, bullet, or blade you may use on them will simply pass through them.” But then Anelm pointed at Vixen’s vest. “Except those.”

  Vixen looked down at her vest and remembered it did not have ordinary blades, but rather handblades. Furrowing her brows, she looked back at Anelm. “Why would these work?”

  Anelm smiled. “Those absorb power. The Anicocina’s presence has no effect on them because the knives are inanimate objects. This is why the thymords were able to have victory over the Anicocinas. The thymords are humans with no magical powers of their own, so the Anicocinas’ presence does not affect them.” But then Anelm shrugged. “Of course, those are merely rumors I’ve heard which traveled from world to world. Thankfully, in my lifetime, I have never encountered an Anicocina. I am sure there are many other races still out there to discover that are even more dreadful than the Anicocinas...that is, if you are willing to travel the stars.”

  Vixen shook her head as she rose to her feet. “One world is trouble enough.” However, she hesitated as a question came to mind, and she cast Anelm a look. “What is the origin of these?” She gestured to her vest of handblades.

  Sitting back in her chair, Anelm smiled. “That...” She paused as she recollected a specific memory, but then she blinked to clear her mind and fixed her eyes on Vixen. “That is another story for another time. However, I believe we’ve spent enough time as it is.” Anelm rose to her feet. “Thank you though—for the sparring match. It has been a while since I had such a good fight.”

  Vixen regarded Anelm for a moment. She had never imagined the delicate princess of Athorim to be so full of surprises, but she had healthy respect for her now, so she bowed her head. “Your Highness.” Then the two parted ways.

  33

  Draben leaned against the railing and stared past the glass at the enormous chamber of World Orbs before them. There was huge dome overhead, but then the chamber went deep into the ground with countless levels. He couldn’t see the bottom. Each level housed hundreds of World Orbs, and there were floating platforms which took maintenance workers to all the different levels, and drones flew through the chambers with ease, collecting World Orbs and putting them away.

  He watched as one drone flew up from a deep level and came to the main level beside Draben. A team of thymords stood in front of an archway. The drone put the World Orb into a glass compartment, exposing part of the Orb to this side of the glass. A thymord known as a Keeper, with his handblade activated, touched the Orb, and suddenly a portal opened in the archway. The team of thymords passed through to the other world, and the Keeper retracted his hand, closing the portal. He pressed a button to send the World Orb away once more, and the drone collected it and disappeared with it.

  “Still sulking?” Reven showed up beside Draben.

  “It’s been long enough, don’t you think?” He pushed away from the railing. When they had returned to this world, they had immediately reported the developments to their superior who took matters to the Council. “You’d think Rykeldan and a rebel world with Orbs would take priority. What could the Council possibly be discussing?”

  “A solution.” A new voice joined the conversation, and both Draben and Reven turned away from the World Orb chamber to see their superior along with another sharply dressed and well-disciplined thymord.

  Draben took one look at the thymord and began to complain. “Jethcal? Why are you sending Mr. Perfect-Do-Gooder Thymord? You know we don’t get along!”

  Jethcal smiled at him coolly. “Perhaps because I can succeed where you’ve failed? Which seems to happen so often I’ve lost count.”

  When Draben moved to swing at Jethcal, Reven grabbed his arm and held him back. She ignored Jethcal and fixed her gaze on their superior. “Sir, what exactly is the plan?”

  Felhelm gave them a tight smile. “How many magic users did you encounter?”

  “Three...five...” Reven guessed.

  “Ten!” Draben threw a random number out in hopes to make the situation seem even more impossible than ever. He glared at Jethcal, who looked at him with amusement.

  Felhelm bobbed his head. “Exactly. There are too many unknowns, too many variables. All we know is they are very powerful, and they need to be brought into check. They need to understand the true threat of Rykeldan, so we will level the playing field.”

  Draben and Reven shared a perplexed look then glanced back at their superior. Draben crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah? Well, how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

  “Jethcal has his resources. He will be able to succeed where you’ve failed. The two of you have been reassigned. I will send others from our team to meet with the king of Cuskelom, and hopefully they won’t disrespect him like you did and will get those handblades back.” Felhelm shook his head and shifted to turn and leave, yet Reven’s voice stopped him.

  “Sir, with all due respect, we should accompany Jethcal, and we should be given another chance to retrieve the World Orbs from Cuskelom. They know us. They won’t immediately attack us on sight. I can’t say they’d do the same for any other thymord who comes to them.” Reven fixed her gaze on Jethcal before looking at Felhelm for his final decision.

  She greatly respected Jethcal as a fellow thymord. On the field, they were equal although he often chose to take risks in order to resolve a situation. He held little to no respect for Draben due to the many times Draben had screwed things up on missions, but Reven knew it wasn’t entirely his fault. However, she was a woman who preferred to see things through to the end—including this mission, so she waited to see what Felhelm would say.

  Felhelm regarded her and contemplated her question. He knew Jethcal and Reven worked well as a team—both efficient and decisive—yet he also knew Draben and Jethcal had a longstanding rivalry, mostly due to Draben’s nonchalant attitude toward important and even classified tasks. However, Reven and Draben were partners, and they had started this mission. They should see it to the end, so Felhelm nodded. “Very well.” He locked eyes with Jethcal. “They’re going with you—mainly to be ambassadors.” Then he gazed at all three of them. “Don’t fail this time. You may use whatever means necessary...short of total extermination, of course. Let’s not go there again, shall we? We don’t need another reason for Oversight to come back and bind our hands again. Now go.”

  “Yes sir!”

  Once Felhelm left, Draben turned to Jethcal and smiled. “So...what grand plan do you have to save us all from embarrassment today, jolly boy?”

  Jethcal ignored him but walked past him, bumping into his shoulder. “Come and
see.”

  “He did that on purpose!” Draben pointed back at Jethcal as he complained to Reven. “I swear he purposely ran into me!”

  Reven gave him an unimpressed look. “Come. We must see what his plan is.” She followed after Jethcal.

  Draben muttered under his breath but then sighed and headed after Reven and Jethcal.

  The three of them walked through the wide corridors of this underground section of the thymord base, and they went further underground into more narrow halls.

  Reven took in their surroundings, and a chill ran down her spine. She made a fist, ready for her handblade to unsheathe, but it didn’t. She had been down here numerous times but could never overcome the sense of danger she felt each time she came here.

  She glimpsed into the cells they passed—each one locked with the highest form of technology as well as a layer of magic. She saw different creatures, objects, aliens, and even fellow humans who had proven themselves a terror to a world. Although the thymords would annihilate any threats to the world, they often took prisoners back to their own world as a trophy of their victory. Reven never thought this was a safe practice, but she couldn’t deny the valuable lessons they’d learned from these prisoners.

  Finally, they stopped at one cell at the end of the corridor where the lights were kept low due to the preference of the prisoner.

  Draben saw the name engraved in the slab identifying the prisoner, and he widened his eyes. “An Anicocina?” He shot Jethcal a wild look. “Are you bloody mad? There is no way it will willingly come with us and not kill us.”

  Jethcal looked down at Draben and reminded him coolly, “You are the one who insisted on accompanying me on this part of the mission. If you don’t like my plan, you may leave.” He shifted his eyes back down the corridor from where they came.