Someday I'll Be Redeemed Page 13

  The fact that Roskelem had Anelm worried Lorrek, so as much as he loathed to face the sorcerer king, he nodded. “If these are your conditions, I shall abide by them, Your Majesty, and will leave immediately.” But then he paused as he finally considered the woman who stood unmoved between Caleth and himself. Lorrek shot the king a quizzical look. “And why have you restrained my mother with a spell?”

  “You and I had business to discuss. I knew she would want your complete attention the moment she saw you, so I restrained her.” At Lorrek’s dark look, Caleth chuckled. “Not to worry, young prince. This was the only time I have done so. She is a gracious guest of my house. Now though, you know the terms of our agreement...” Caleth lifted his hand. “First, you will visit with your mother and explain to her where you have been all this time.” With that, he twisted his wrist, and whatever spell he had her under lifted as he offered her a kind smile. “Lady Lorentha, I am a man of my word—your son, Prince Lorrek.” He gestured to him. “We will leave the two of you to reacquaint yourselves, and not to worry, Prince Lorrek—Prince Moren shall be safe here.” He smiled at the prince of Cuskelom, and in an instant Caleth vanished from the throne and Moren disappeared from before Lorrek.

  Lorrek sucked in a sharp inhale at the disappearance of his charge, but then he felt the waves of magic coursing through the air and knew Caleth had taken Moren to his new chambers where the boy could refresh himself and rest.

  Relieved of his duties as guardian of the prince, Lorrek let his hands hang loose at his sides and watched his mother, who had yet to turn to him. He knew it was not because of a spell that she did not turn, but perhaps she was reluctant to believe something almost too good to be true—as if she feared he would vanish from sight as soon as she turned.

  Lorrek gathered a breath then exhaled slowly. “Hello, Mother.”

  Finally, she shifted and turned to face him. As she turned, Lorrek gazed over her face. She still looked the same—beautiful in wisdom—yet he noted her hardened features as grief had stolen her sweet age. Her blue eyes locked with his, and her mouth shifted between a greeting and a silent sob as tears of relief welled up in her eyes.

  Pushing aside any hesitation he had, Lorrek took three decisive steps to her and embraced her with strong, powerful arms. He buried his face in her hair as she reached up around his neck and pulled him close. “I'm here, Mother. I truly am.” He inhaled her scent, letting the familiarity wash over him and unbury memories he suppressed—of happy times when he was a child learning lessons—history, etiquette, and dance—under her supervision, and listening to the tales she would always tell to his brothers and him after evening meal before they went to bed. He recalled the painful memories too—her soothing touch on his brow after a training accident when he had fallen off his horse and broken his arm, the disappointment on her face when he returned to the palace after following Theran to the tavern and ending up in a fight. The sad memories too of his first heartbreak and her sympathy but never pity, and the first time his father refused to believe the justifications of his actions but sent him out of the throne room—and out of his sight—in disgrace; in passing Lorrek had seen the fire in his mother's eyes at this injustice, and he knew she would speak with him privately, and later that evening his father came to his chambers and stumbled over an apology.

  His mother was always a silent support for Lorrek, and during these last ten years of endless wandering and loneliness, Lorrek realized how much he had missed her companionship.

  He hugged her tighter.

  She sensed his grief and rubbed his back. “Shh, Lorrek, I'm here. You don't have to be alone.”

  Lorrek shook with a sob, but he refused to cry. He forced himself to pull back from her and look into the face he hadn't seen for so long. He knew she saw the veil of tears he wouldn't let fall, but he also knew she wouldn't pressure him—only support him. He gifted her with a shaky smile—feeling like his nine-year-old self who had woken from a dreadful night terror. “Mother.” It was a relief to say that title, but he pressed on. “What are you doing here? Why aren't you back in Cuskelom?”

  “Because I was waiting for you.” She reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand. “I knew you would come here—sooner or later. My boy, what has happened to you?” Her eyes searched his face, and he reached up and took her hand from his face but held it in his and kissed her fingertips.

  “I cannot tell you, and I cannot stay.” He lowered her hand and took a step back—knowing the distance was required or he wouldn't be able to make himself leave to find Princess Anelm. “I am so glad to see you, but I must go...”

  “After Caleth's sister—I know.” She nodded withdrawing her hand to herself, and Lorrek furrowed his brows.

  “What do you know?”

  She shrugged. “Only that the king asked your brother to do the same task, but he refused and left.”

  Hearing this, Lorrek closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and inhaled through his nose. Once he exhaled, he opened his eyes and looked back at his mother. “Are you saying Theran went after her too? Why would Caleth send me then?”

  “I said he refused.” She gave him a hard look that reminded him that she did not like to repeat herself. “He still believes you are alive, and he is still searching for you.”

  “Do you know where he is heading?”

  She shook her head. “He didn't say.”

  Lorrek pressed his lips into a thin line and hoped not to run into his brother on his journey. However, if that was meant to be, so be it, and he nodded, accepting the possibility. “Still, Mother, I must go.” He bowed to her, and it was almost painful to straighten and take another step away from her.

  She didn't move but nodded. “Perhaps when you return, you can tell me where you've been all this time, and what has happened.”

  A smirk spread across his face. “I highly doubt anyone would believe me, but I will tell you then if you wish.” With one final smile, he vanished before he could persuade himself to linger. If he stayed for any length of time, he knew he would never leave.

  Instead of magicking straight to Serhon, Lorrek reappeared just outside the black walls of Athorim's capital. He immediately pressed his back against the wall and clenched his hands into fists as he tried to ward off the heartache that rent his heart. Being with his mother for that brief moment felt like home, and how he longed to go home once more, but he couldn't—not yet, perhaps not ever, and this gnawed at him.

  He slammed a fist into the wall only to sense a tremendous surge of magic, so he quickly stepped away from the wall and watched as colorful lights rippled through the stones. Looking back at the imposing, flawless fortress—a strange sight in the middle of the desert—Lorrek accepted what had happened in the palace with a nod and headed into the desert.

  He had one last task to do before leaving for Serhon.

  Taking another look around, Lorrek confirmed that no one was watching him. He pulled a dagger out of another pocket dimension and held it up for inspection. The curved blade had a tint of gold in it and glistened in the bright desert sun. Runes and carvings with threads of gold twisted throughout the black and scarlet hilt. It pulsed with magic.

  Lorrek drew in a shaky breath at the sight of the weapon and then—with a twist of his wrist—pocketed it away into the other dimension and began walking.

  And then he vanished—not to Serhon.

  13

  Theran and Vixen were heading for the castle of Nirrorm, Lorrek realized after trailing them for most of the day while magically cloaked by invisibility. His gaze stayed on Vixen as he waited for an opportunity to talk with her alone, but for a long while that chance did not come, so he took the time to observe Theran.

  His oldest brother had both stayed the same over the years—reckless, uncaring about his dirty appearance, and fiercely loyal—yet at the same time he was different. There was a maturity in his eyes when he conversed with Vixen at their campfire about Nirrorm's fate, and what it meant for the other kingdoms.
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  “They will go to war, no doubt,” he had said with a heaviness Lorrek never heard from him before. The Theran that Lorrek knew would laugh at the chance to fight in battle and cause bloodshed, but now he ducked his head as if he dreaded the thought.

  Lorrek almost uncrossed his arms and moved from where he leaned against a tree to talk with his brother, but he kept his arms firmly crossed and pressed his lips together stubbornly. No, he was here to talk with Vixen.

  Finally, when Theran told her, “You sleep. I'll take the first watch,” Lorrek frowned then reached through magic for the strands of her thoughts, “Vixen—we need to talk.”

  “Lorrek?” Vixen looked around—unsettled by the voice in her head.

  Theran looked at her, confused, then glanced around at their surroundings. When he saw nothing, he glanced back at her with creased brows. “What about him?”

  Vixen shook her head, dismissing his concern. “Nothing. You just sounded like him for a moment.” She offered him a smile but didn't look long enough to see if he had accepted her excuse. Instead, she climbed to her feet and grabbed the canister of water. “I'm going to get water from the stream. I'll be back soon.”

  “If you're not, I'm going to go looking for you.”

  Vixen chuckled at his warning voice and finally stepped away from the campsite further into the woods—directly toward Lorrek though she couldn't see him standing in front of the tree because he was still cloaked by his magic.

  Lorrek waited until she was out of hearing range from Theran before draping a silencing and invisibility spell upon both of them. At the same time, the spell hiding him from her sight dropped.

  She gasped at the sudden sight of him, and her hand went to her vest, but she stopped herself from unsheathing a blade when she recognized who he was. Lowing her hand, she cast a glance back at Theran and then took a step toward Lorrek and spoke with a whisper, “Was that you in my head?”

  Lorrek nodded. “Aye, and for future reference, when you think you hear someone else's voice in your head, do not respond verbally, but rather think. However, I am not here for a mere chitchat.” He stepped away from the tree and pulled the dagger out of the other dimension.

  Vixen dropped her eyes to the beautiful weapon in his pale hands and then shifted her gaze back to his face. “If you plan to kill me with that...”

  “No.” The strong certainty in Lorrek's voice made Vixen realize that there was something more at stake than a simple weapon. When he laid it in his hands and offered it to her, she reached for it hesitantly. As her hands touched the hilt, he gripped her hands as they held the dagger and locked eyes with her. “This weapon is the only thing that can kill me. None of my spells can protect me from it. No magic can save me from it, and I'm giving it to you.”

  He released her hands and stepped back—feeling bare without the safety of that dagger hidden somewhere in another dimension. Instead, he stared at it in her hands. He wanted to snatch it back and disappear, pretending that this meeting had never happened, but he was going to Serhon, and he knew he needed someone else to have that weapon—just in case.

  Her fingertips slid over the smoothness of the blade before her gaze shifted up to him. She furrowed her brows. “Why are you giving this to me?” She held it up for him to see.

  He hesitated and looked back in Theran's direction. He wished things were different. He wished none of this secrecy was necessary, but all things had fallen too far for anyone to believe his mere word now. He had to see it through to the end—no matter how difficult it became along the way.

  Glancing down at Vixen and seeing the earnest questions in her eyes—too many he could not answer now—he took a deep breath then leaned down to her ear and whispered, “Once, a lifetime ago, a man named Loroth told me I could trust you—no matter what.” He pulled back and saw the old grief stir up in her dark brown eyes as she stared at him. He nodded and stepped back—already wrapping magic around himself to travel elsewhere.

  “Lorrek!” She called after him for fear that he might take a step and vanish from her completely. “What happened? Why do you keep running? Your brother is right there.” She motioned back at Theran in the distance. “You could stop all this running and talk to him.”

  Before she finished talking, Lorrek was shaking his head, and he let out a laugh, but it was a sorrowful sound. Then he looked at her. “It's not that simple, Vix. I wish it were.”

  She took a step toward him—determined not to let him get away before he answered some of her questions. “Tell me...” She stared into his eyes. “What happened?” She had so many questions, but she needed to ask the ones she knew he might be more inclined to answer. “How did you emerge from the Orb of Oblivion?”

  Lorrek smiled. This was an easy answer—almost. “I found a way back.”

  “Why go to Nirrorm and not Cuskelom?”

  He shrugged and shook his head. “That is where the path dropped me. My strength was greatly depleted at the time, and then all things began to unravel...” He trailed off as he thought back to his indirect hand in King Wordan's death.

  Vixen nodded. She was getting answers. This was good, so she took another step closer to try and coax further answers from him. “And why won't you reveal yourself to Theran?” She jutted her chin at Theran.

  Lorrek stared off in that direction. He yearned to go, but it wasn't time yet. He tore his gaze away and lowered his eyes as he hunched his shoulders. “In that...abyss, I observed many things—saw life unfolding here as though I was a ghost, and I heard what was said of me. You've heard the rumors too, I'm sure.”

  “They say you forced yourself on Princess Atheta.”

  “I didn't!” Lorrek shot his blazing eyes to Vixen, and she lifted her hands to show she believed him. He sighed again and looked away, shaking his head. “It was a simple and unfortunate set of occurrences as she and I were at the wrong place at the wrong time and said the wrong thing. King Roskelem overheard, but only a part of it—enough to convince him that I had done the deed, and he struck out at me.” He let out another sad laugh as he cast his gaze heavenward. “I could have handled him and his untrained powers, but Atheta was there, and she was in distress, and I knew I had to get her out, so I did. I magicked her out of there...and I didn't come back with her.”

  Vixen walked up to him and grabbed his arm to get him to look at her. “Then why don't you just tell people the truth?”

  He stared down at her with bewilderment. “Which is what, exactly? That I didn't rape her? Roskelem has convinced everyone otherwise, and they believe him. That I didn't leave her in an altogether different realm and take away her memories, so she has nothing left of her life here? Ah, but I did do that. And I also did not bring her back. I am more guilty than innocent.”

  “But you did it to protect her.”

  For a long moment, he stared at Vixen, admiring her stubbornness for justice and the truth, but there was far more that he had left unsaid that could not be discussed of this night. Slowly, he lifted his hands up to her arms, then placed them on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. “When the time comes, I will speak the truth and state my reasons, but now is not that time.”

  “Says who?” Vixen narrowed her eyes and caused Lorrek to laugh.

  “Loroth always said you were stubborn.”

  The mention of Loroth caused Vixen to drop her eyes. It hurt because she had so many unanswered questions about what had happened to her husband. She didn't know where to begin, and she had the feeling that Lorrek could not tell her much, but she had to try. “Were you there?”

  He stiffened but then nodded slowly.

  “What happened?”

  Taking a step back, he stared past her for a long moment while collecting his thoughts. However, when he parted his lips to tell her exactly what had happened, he felt as though a silencing spell bound his words, so he chose different ones. “He was the only one who tried to save me, but unfortunately, in the end, I was unable to save him. I'm sorry, Vixen.” He bow
ed his head—an old grief finally expressed.

  She took a hesitant step forward and slowly reached up to place a hand on Lorrek's shoulder. Her touch made him lift his gaze up to meet hers, and she stared at the tormented soul in his eyes. She didn't understand it—could never comprehend the secrets Lorrek kept for “their own good” as he put it, but she knew it burdened him. He was waiting for something—something she couldn't fathom, but she trusted him, so she gifted him with a small smile. “One day you'll tell me what really happened back then.”

  His gaze shifted to the dagger in her hand, then back at her face, and he returned her smile. “One day—but not today.” With that, he stepped out of her reach, bowed his head to her, and then straightened and vanished.

  Vixen stared at the empty air, as she always did when Lorrek magicked away. She half-expected him to reappear just as quickly. However, when she remained alone—an old ache blossomed in her chest as she reflected on the course of their conversation.

  Loroth of Cuskelom—cousin to Lorrek and his brothers. He was the one person who had earned Vixen's trust and eventually captured her heart. He had been a quiet individual who balanced her stubborn will. His presence had a way of calming her fury, and in a series of events—humorous now when Vixen thought on them—he taught her to not stab anyone who moved just because she felt like it.

  She chuckled at these memories. “I miss you, Lo,” she spoke to the air then reached around to her back to sheathe this new dagger out of sight; she didn't want to have to explain to Theran where she got it. Then she headed to the stream to retrieve the water like she had told him she would.

  Magicking from one set of woods to another almost felt as if he didn't go anywhere, but the sounds of Serhon were different from those of Nirrorm—an eerie silence, as if the creatures of this kingdom knew that King Roskelem was a harsh master who would lash out at anything that irritated him. Lorrek had had the displeasure of working with him in the past, and he had no desire to repeat the circumstances, but King Caleth demanded that he do so, and Lorrek knew he must fulfill his part of the bargain.