“Send out a search party,” Snow White demanded. “And send for the treasurer. By midday every man, woman, and child shall know that a reward will be granted to anyone who brings me information.”
Queen Snow White turned back toward the awakening city below. No longer did her hands shake as she commanded and demanded help from every advisor, servant, and guard that stood poised and listening. Queen Snow White knew that giving up would never be an option.
With a new spark in her heart the queen declared, “Bring me Red Riding Hood.”
~~~
“Her Royal Majesty, Queen Snow White, has made a royal decree: As of late, there has been a red-cloaked menace running rampant through the beautiful streets of Peragon. We all know this terror as the infamous Red Riding Hood. This menace has managed to kill six of the best guards who worked tirelessly to protect the people of Airaldan.
“This thief and killer always leaves a bloody ‘R’ as their mark wherever they wreak havoc. This mark has been found throughout all of Cathal.
“Every man, woman, and child that finds themselves in this killer’s path is in grave danger.
“If any person, citizen of Airaldan or otherwise, knows the whereabouts of this menace, they are to notify a royal guard immediately. Whoever provides us with valuable information will be rewarded with five gold pieces. A reward of far greater worth will be given to the citizen that brings the menace to the royal guards, alive.
“Remember to stay safe, be cautious at all times, and of course, may the Maker bless you,” the royal informant declared to the crowd of citizens that circled for blocks.
The same announcement circulated through every street in Peragon in the early hours of the morning and well into the afternoon. People lined up on every street corner and alleyway to hear the news that they could get the chance to receive gold, or something even better. No information was missed by the keen ears of the citizens who wanted the chance to guarantee their families food for months.
Bandits and thieves trying to make measly drinking money lurked around every corner and in every dark shadow as they waited for information to slip. Anyone who owned a red cloak immediately purchased a new garment that would not allow their hungry, selfish neighbors any reason to speculate that they could be turned in for the reward they all coveted so dearly.
Citizens of every station gathered in the streets as they prepared for their hunt into the slums of the city. The brave, poverty-stricken families sent every child old enough with high hopes that they might be the ones to reach the prize. The wealthy forced their unfortunate servants into the uncertainty of the slums with little worry they would return at all.
Red ignored the drama as she pushed through the masses of people on her way to the central market. Her cloak was still turned to hide the crimson under a shadow of black. The only people to look her way were the beggars, their hunger-stricken eyes watching her pass by. A flash of Red’s knives was enough to turn their dirty faces away, their pitiful stares targeting their next victim.
When she got to the central market, Red shoved her way past the newest group of citizens that had gathered to hear the news of Snow White’s royal decree from their gossiping friends.
No one paid attention to the small girl that pushed past. No one even glanced at Red as she beelined through the crowd toward a tiny potion’s boutique tucked between a bakery and a butcher’s shop. The mingled scent of sugary icing and animal blood was not easily stomached by the lighthearted.
The inside of the shop was as quaint as the building’s exterior. The space was no more than twelve feet wide, but the brick walls stretched far back into the alley behind. Plywood shelves stretched across the length of the store.
Useless charms and false magical knick-knacks from all of Cathal’s kingdoms were scattered across the shelves. Where talismans were not stacked, pre-crafted potions and typical potion ingredients were piled high in whatever crate or box that could be found. A few dull weapons were scattered throughout, completing the eclectic appeal.
An ancient woman sorting bottles and ingredients on a narrow table in the back of the store greeted her. With the charm of a prosperous merchant, the old woman smiled sweetly at Red. The wrinkles lining her face crinkled together and a dimple formed in her right cheek. Her icy blue eyes were bright in the early morning light that managed to stream through the dingy windows.
The woman’s delicate hands continued their work, sorting the bottles and ingredients with an accuracy that only a trained professional could acquire. Her robes were simple, yet elegant. Intricate folds of sapphire with accents of swirling silver embroidery shimmered in the morning sunlight.
This woman gave off an essence that made people want to trust her. But Red knew that her grandmotherly appearance was nothing more than a mask to hide her true cunning from the world.
“What can I help you with, my dear?” the women asked in a sugar-coated voice that sent shivers down Red’s back every time she heard it. She continued with her sorting, her steady fingers never faltering even as they blindly did their work.
“I need ingredients, Estra,” Red drawled. She snatched an empty potion bottle off of the table, fiddling with the small container. “You should know by now that’s all I ever need.”
A simple laugh escaped Estra Ayrith’s lips, her voice light as the clouds as she commented, “I suppose I do know that by now, but I can always hope that you’ll take an interest in something else I have one day.”
She gestured toward the various herbs and spices that lined the left side of her shop. “So what’ll it be today, my dear? Hmm… Goat’s tongue? Toad warts? No? Maybe something a little more valuable? Dragon’s teeth perhaps, or maybe a nice piece of witch hair. I always like to say that I have the best witch hair around these parts.”
“Just the same boring ingredients as usual, Estra. I don’t need anything special whether it’s the best or not,” chirped Red, already irritated with the game Estra liked to play every time she visited. The restlessness of the townspeople had her on edge, and the events from the night before did not help her exhausted nerves.
“Of course, dearie. Anything for my best customer.”
“And here I thought I was your only customer,” Red smirked as she switched out the bottle for a cork to twirl between her fingers.
“That’s what makes you the best,” Estra sang as she moved into the storage space behind a jade bead curtain to collect Red’s supplies. “A pound of rose petals,” Estra Ayrith listed between the clacking of the beads, “three vials of Xandrian jewel powder in red, green, and white, six robins’ feet, and five geese feathers.”
“Seven copper pieces and it’s mine along with as many potion bottles as I can carry,” Red finished as she carefully placed each of the items into her bag. “I think I’m getting to be too predictable for you, Estra. Maybe I should find a new ingredient because it looks like you already had everything ready for me.”
“Like I said, I do have some pretty amazing things stored up my sleeves,” Estra laughed as she counted the coins in her hands before tucking them into the arms of her cloak. “But I do have to say that the routine is quite nice. Gives me something to look forward to.”
“Then I’m happy to help,” Red stated as she placed bottle after bottle alongside her new stock of ingredients into her bulging satchel. She did not bother to look at the old woman as she sorted, but she wished she had because she did not notice the careful consideration lining the old woman’s face until she had already asked her question.
“Maybe you could help those poor royals find their killer. Any idea who this Red Riding Hood might be?”
“No idea,” Red deadpanned as she moved onto the various corks to go with her bottles. “And I would suggest that you don’t look into rumors anymore. No good can come from looking for a criminal with no regard for the law.”
Those words burned in Red’s throat, but with her focus turned away from the old woman, she managed to keep a cool tone.
Estra gave a light-hearted laugh, but grabbed onto Red’s wrist with an iron grip. Her icy blue eyes locked onto Red, her smile turning vicious as she whispered, “Maybe I just haven’t looked hard enough. What happened to that lovely red cape of yours?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Estra,” Red seethed. Her free hand reached for her smallest dagger, the blade whining as it slid from its spot on her belt.
Estra Ayrith’s eyes danced, taking in the simple, elegant blade. But her smile vanished as she watched Red spin it in her hand.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Estra, but I suggest you stop before it gets you into trouble. There is no way you’re turning anything on me. Your best customer.”
“You make it sound as if I am accusing you of being the killer, dearie,” Estra laughed, tapping a wrinkled finger against her temple as if she had forgotten everything she had just said. “I’d have to be crazy to think such a thing.” Another laugh escaped the woman’s lips, but her eyes were wary while Red resheathed her knife.
“Are you telling me that the gossip that you’re crazy isn’t true, Estra? Because I heard somewhere in the Craelon that witches are always the crazy ones.”
At the mention of the female demons that used to roam Cathal, but were now trapped in the Forbidden Wastes, Estra’s face paled and scrunched up in disgust. She pushed Red’s hand away as if it had burned her. “You should know that if I were a witch, I would have eaten you already.”
Red tapped a finger against her chin in mock contemplation. “True, but who is going to believe your word after they talk to me? No one would dare to question the person who found, oh I don’t know, an enchanted broom maybe? Or the bones of a child strewn across the grounds of your storage room?”
“I am an esteemed saleswoman,” Estra Ayrith warned as she backed away from Red. “I have sway with the citizens that pass through my shop.” She clasped the curtain of beads that would lead her into the cramped back room.
“The greed of men can overrun even the largest amounts of sway,” Red countered, her eyes glittering as she slung her pack across her shoulder. “I don’t doubt that either of these two store owners” she gestured toward the shops on either side of Estra’s room—“would love to renovate their businesses.”
Estra gave Red a withering glare that could kill any man, but Red gave one of her own before the old woman had the chance to escape into the confines of her storage space, the swinging jade curtain her only protection.
~~~
After finishing her rounds at the marketplace, Red made her way through the less reputable merchant booths scattered throughout Peragon’s slums. The farther she moved through the dirty alleys, the closer Red got to the more precious and more expensive items that drew in wealthy and poor citizens alike.
Red laughed at the pale-faced ladies that were glued to the arms of their mischievous partners. She stopped to look at a few of the booths, curious to see if they were actually selling real dragon scales or witch teeth. Almost every item was fake, but Red loved to imagine what each buyer’s face would look like when they finally realized they had been conned.
Once she was finished looking through the dingy backstreet booths, Red made her way back to her makeshift home deep in the slums.
The daytime vagrants and prostitutes practically drooled when they started to imagine what priceless goodies might be tucked inside Red’s crowded satchel. Their eyes widened when they saw the deadly knives strapped to Red’s belt. They were all smart enough to stay away from the mysterious figure hidden underneath the crimson-lined hood.
A small group of noble-blooded teenagers were crowded around an alley corner. Red did not understand what they were fussing about until she recognized the bloody ‘R’ that she had left hours before. The letter was flaking apart, but there was still enough of the mark for literate citizens to be able to recognize what it stood for.
All other evidence from the morning had been erased from the cobblestones and brick apartments. There was a higher number of city guards walking around the streets nearest the crime scene. But they were more interested in flirting with the women lounging about than in searching for any suspects.
Red shivered as the dying guard’s face flashed across her mind. She cursed at herself for letting the dark magic that roiled within her veins get the better of her. She ignored the slight tingle in her fingers, clenching her hands into fists to push away the power that still wished to be set free.
After a dozen more quickly passed blocks, Red came upon her destination. A little house was tucked away into the only open alcove behind an abandoned warehouse.
The “house” was nothing more than an empty shipping crate that had seen better days. Partially rotted wood planks made up the main structure of the box. Torn blankets and old discarded clothes were shoved into holes that had rotted away with age.
Inside, the base of the crate was covered in a layer of hay and other bits of fabric to make a sort of bed. The inside was dry and cool compared to the humid heat of the city just outside the torn blanket door. It was a welcome relief when Red was truly desperate for sleep.
Empty cans and various utensils were strung across the opening of the alcove in intersecting lines to alert Red of any intruders. Anyone smart enough could make it past the useless alarm system, but no one was stupid enough to try.
“Home sweet home. There’s nothing like it anywhere else,” Red said dryly as she slung off her cloak, bundling it into a makeshift pillow. She crammed her lithe frame into the box in the most comfortable position she could manage. Her body was left in a crumple of limbs and torn fabric, but it was better than sleeping on the even harder cobblestones.
Red had lived in better conditions, much better, but shelter was shelter. And homelessness was much more appealing to Red than starvation. Either sacrifice was just another perk that came with being one of the most talented followers that the Kingdom Rogues had ever seen.
The Kingdom Rogues were an elite group of assassins, thieves, and potions masters that traveled across all of Cathal to train at the Rogue Manor. This group was known for their hatred of the seven kingdoms. Their victims were usually the corrupt politicians and business owners who forced their people to follow rules and regulations that went against the natural ways of the world.
The Kingdom Rogues recruited the meek and the poor, their doors open to those who could manage to find them. They offered a new life, and to a twelve-year-old girl with nowhere else to go, it had been the perfect place for Red—if the idea of perfection included grueling training, endless chores, and a bucketful of near-death experiences.
Hidden neatly in the dense forests spread throughout Perancis, the clearing the Rogue Manor sat in made it look like a fortress. Made of nothing but brick and limestone, the large manor was a sight to see. It could house nearly a hundred pupils at once, and there would still be enough room for the handful of loyal servants that lived and worked there. Even after living with the Kingdom Rogues for five years, the sight of the mansion still brought butterflies to Red’s stomach.
Red desperately wanted to return to the simple comforts of the Rogue Manor, but she could not deny the pull toward a nomadic life after living away from the confines of the Kingdom Rogues for over five months. The towering gate and extensive security were enough to keep many runaways from entering. But Red knew that they were also in place to keep everyone else inside.
The Rogue Manor might hold a certain appeal for those wishing to escape society’s restraints but deciding to join the ranks of the Kingdom Rogues was not for the lighthearted. Getting past the wood’s poisonous mushroom pixies and Baragori, angry spirits that haunt the trees and lead travelers into fox dens, was part of the first set of trials needed to become a Kingdom Rogue.
After that, the brutal training broke not only bones but also the spirits of many who passed through the manor’s doors. Red had seen mistakes that had turned out to be fatal—and punishments were unforgiving.
&nbs
p; Nothing could take away pain from the past, but that pain had prepared Red for the horrors that came with a war that had been raging for nearly eight years. Her mentor and the leader of the Kingdom Rogues, Arthur Welin, had personally seen to that.
“Don’t get caught because no one will save you. And don’t get killed because no one will care enough to search for your rotting corpse,” were Arthur’s favorite lines to use on Red before he sent her on a particularly dangerous mission.
Red lay her head down to rest, but sleep was not ready to claim her just yet. Instead, her mind was left to focus on every sore muscle and bruised limb that ached for the amenities of the manor. The endless count of sleepless nights made Red wish for her own bed. And the constant stir of her hungry stomach conjured up dreams of all the meals she missed.
Everything was a reminder of what Red would get to go back to.
Yet the shadows of people jumping across the rooftops were reminders of why she had been forced to leave. Their presence constantly reminded Red of what the Kingdom Rogues had risked rescuing her from the confines of a dingy dungeon in Crealon.
She pretended to not see the small group of Kingdom Rogues following her, but she had known that they were there a few days into her mission. The patrol was watching to make sure she was following Arthur’s strict orders. But their constant presence only annoyed Red, making her want to draw the mission out as long as possible just so they would have to suffer with her.
It was foolish of her to think that she could put off her next objective any longer. She would have to repay Arthur Welin one day. And Red was trying her hardest to not collect interest on her debt.
Because a life debt that was compensated with lives was not something that Red could easily pay for on her own.
Maybe it was the summer heat, or the lack of sleep, but Red could not conjure up the skills that she usually used to distract herself from the memories of her countless mistakes. Each one was left to replay in her mind even as her exhaustion took over. Yet it was the haunting, hateful glare of the dying guard that continued to push its way past the rest of her memories. The man’s angry stare always boring into her soul even as the light left his eyes.
Cloak of Darkness (The Destroyer-Blessed Saga Book 1) Page 3