Cloak of Darkness (The Destroyer-Blessed Saga Book 1)

by Sara E. Tonissen

  To keep the Kingdom Rogues from their victory, Red broke out of Robyn’s grip. She sprinted to the right while he swerved left, diverting the limited attention held on their ever-shrinking figures. They twisted and turned in every direction to avoid being hit, their minds linked in the mutual understanding that they were preparing for a crash landing inside that rabbit hole.

  Red grimaced in anticipation as she swiftly banked left, Robyn copying her like a mirror image. The two barely left themselves more than a yard of space before they leapt into the air, a lion and his lioness pouncing on their prey in perfect unison.

  ~~~

  Robyn Thorn dove headfirst into the tunnel. His arms instinctively wrapped around his head and neck, his body folding together as he braced for impact. His right shoulder slammed into the dirt, but it barely slowed his momentum as he fell deeper down the rabbit hole.

  Surprised shouts sounded as the guards at the base of the hole watched Robyn roll into the little cavern they were stationed in. He came to a thundering stop as the guards tried to catch his flailing limbs. Robyn lay splayed on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs.

  Ryker Flori stood at the foot of the tunnel, looking into the hole expectantly. A string of curses grew more pronounced as Red came tumbling out of the opening at the back of the cavern—the guards parted like a crowd avoiding the plague as she tumbled by. Her lithe body slammed into Robyn Thorn, and she crumpled to the floor next to him.

  “I’m not doing that again,” Robyn sighed.

  “You’re not dead,” Ryker stated blandly. His ears drooped around his face as he looked down at the pair.

  “Try to not sound too disappointed about that,” Red panted, a smirk lighting up her flushed face. She moved to sit up, but another string of curses sprang from her mouth as she collapsed to the ground. Red hissed in pain, her forehead thudding against the dirt as she grabbed at her arm.

  Robyn shot forward—a lesser adrenaline rush causing his body to act. He shouted at the guards to find the nearest doctor, promising kitchen duty if they did not hurry. Robyn Thorn grabbed Red’s uninjured arm and slowly pulled her back until she was no longer crushing her left arm with the rest of her body.

  “You’re going to be ok,” Robyn stated with a shaky breath. “You are going to be just fine.”

  “I took an arrow to the arm, not the heart,” Red shot back.

  Robyn knew that not even death could keep Red from having some backlash comment. But his brows furrowed in worry at the lack of sass in her tone.

  “You’re unusually calm for someone who just got shot,” he retorted with a huff of a laugh. “I know you’re all tough and fearless, but you could at least act like you’re in a little pain.”

  “Sorry. I’ll try a little harder to be a damsel in distress next time. Then you can fulfill your dreams of being a knight in shining armor and save me.”

  “This isn’t funny,” Robyn sighed. He did not try to hide his grin, though, as he gently lifted Red’s head to rest in his lap.

  “And I’m not laughing,” Red said with a smirk that turned into a wince as her body shifted. “But can’t you just see it now? I’ve been taken down on the battlefield. Completely surrounded. Weapons out of reach. But none of that matters! You fight your way through our enemies. Sword swinging. Armor gleaming.”

  “And you manage to say, ‘My knight in shining armor has come to save me at last. My hero!’” Robyn interrupted in falsetto.

  “But alas, my hero does not arrive in time and I am defeated. Our enemies cheer as I finally return to the dark realm to rule with the Destroyer until the end of time.”

  “You two are absolutely insane,” Ryker commented with a stern look at the pair on the ground.

  Red coughed out a laugh. Robyn watched as Red hissed through clenched teeth, her arm shaking with lightning-quick spasms against her stomach.

  “You need to tear off my sleeve so the doctor can take a look at my arm.”

  Robyn looked dubiously at the finely stitched sleeves where the bolts of fabric connected at Red’s shoulder. He did not let his hands waiver, though, as he freed a small dagger from his belt. He lightly picked at the seams, but the tight strings had been woven together with an expert hand.

  Robyn pulled his own tunic over his head, twisting it together until it was a rope of fabric. Red easily accepted the gag, her nose scrunching together as the salty tang of his sweat washed over her senses. She nodded her head once at Robyn Thorn before pinching her eyes closed.

  “I’m going to pinch the top of your sleeve and cut at the seams,” Robyn stated more to himself than to Red. He was not even sure that Red was listening as he readied his knife above her shoulder.

  “Don’t count,” Ryker Flori cut in before Robyn could place the edge of his knife to Red’s sleeve. His gaze was focused on the opening to the cave’s outside entrance, but his ears were bent close to his head, prepared to shy away from Red’s screams. “Counting only makes it worse.”

  Robyn’s hands did start to tremble at that warning. But his entire body stilled as Red flinched at the slightest movement he caused when he grabbed hold of her tunic.

  Red panted between the folds of Robyn’s shirt. Her jaws clenched and unclenched in anticipation for the harsher pains that would soon be coursing through her wound.

  Red’s body locked up the moment Robyn tore the first few strands free from their delicate yet strong hold. Her knuckles turned pure white, her fingernails clawing into her palms at the second tear. The third left tears prickling at the corners of her sealed eyes. The fourth had Robyn Thorn cursing as a pitiful whimper tore through Red’s clenched mouth. The final rip that tore the sleeve clean from the body of the shirt made Red seize up, a red-hot fire scorching through her arm.

  The tears that streamed freely down her face left rivers of mud in their wake. Lines of grime were freed underneath the beds of those tiny rivers. The lake pooling at the bottom of Red’s chin quickly turned into an ocean.

  Robyn lifted his hand to wipe those tears away, but he let it fall away as the little rivers branched off into a delta of salt water and dirt. His gaze turned away from the face that rarely showed vulnerabilities. Instead, he focused on the rest of Red’s sleeve.

  He slowly tugged the torn fabric down her arm no more than an inch at a time. He moved at the pace of Red’s ragged pants. Every inhale left another half inch of bare skin. Each exhale was left for Red to breathe, to take just a moment away from the searing pain.

  Robyn Thorn was so focused on Red’s continued breathing that his eyes failed to catch the shadows that skittered across her skin. He only caught onto the small flickers when he freed her wrist from the sleeve. His fingers brushed over the little flames that grew at Red’s thin wrist, wrapping around her forearm, flickering around the arrow wound that carved out a notch in the side of her arm.

  “Red, you might want to take a look at this.”

  Robyn’s shirt slipped from Red’s limp jaws. She used her free hand to wipe the tears from her eyes, but they remained sealed shut. “You sent for the doctor, that’s his job,” Red whispered, her voice raw.

  Ryker moved away from his post at the note of concern in Robyn’s voice. He stilled when he looked over Red’s arm. “The doctor won’t know what to do with that,” the elf stated in disgusted awe.

  Red still held her eyelids closed as she whispered, “I can feel it. The doctor only needs to fix the wound.”

  Robyn Thorn and Ryker Flori exchanged worried looks, but they did not question Red. Their gazes shifted away from each other’s faces, their eyes intently looking back to the wound in her arm.

  The flames that originally looked black were a mixture of what could only be described as the darkest night sky. Swirls of sapphire, blackened violet, and onyx mixed together not only in a dazzling fire, but in an elegant curling stream of night and shadow. It was even more mesmerizing to know that this magic was not a trick of the light.

  “Is that doctor ever coming or are you two g
oing to keep letting my arm bleed out?” Red interrupted to break Robyn and Ryker’s amazed silence.

  “The… uhh… the, your magic?” Robyn stumbled over his words. His eyes were glued to Red’s arm, it was amazing that he even managed to speak those few words.

  “Your magic is keeping your blood inside your body,” Ryker finished to stop Robyn’s incoherent mutters. Both men were enchanted by the black flames. Ryker’s small blue hand reached out to touch Red, but he snatched it back with a shout. Black smoke broke away from his lightly singed fingers, ash dusted across his nails.

  “I wouldn’t touch her there if I were you,” Eliseo Flori’s voice cut in from the back of the cave. He led the doctor and the two guards into the cave. The soldiers stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the black flames dancing across Red’s skin. The doctor looked as if he were about to faint if he got any closer.

  “Her magic is protecting her, doctor,” Eliseo stated nonchalantly, “but that should not stop you from completing your work.”

  The doctor swallowed hard, sweat breaking out on his forehead, but he let Eliseo lead him to his patient. He did not speak as he prepared the tools he needed to stitch up Red’s wound; no words were able to describe the mixture of terror and awe that coursed through his brain. He was efficient but gentle with his work, and Red’s magic retreated with every step.

  In only a few minutes, a pain reliever reached Red’s arm, calming the rest of her body along with it.

  The doctor looked everywhere but at Red as she thanked him for helping her. He stumbled from the cavern, stuttering about keeping what he saw confidential. He looked as though he were about to lose his lunch at any moment as he ran into the network of tunnels—his faerie orb abandoned in his rush to escape.

  Red remained lying on the ground for some time after the doctor had left. She felt at peace watching earthworms poking their heads in and out of the ceiling. Though her mind wandered in every direction at once, Red could feel Robyn’s fingers combing through her tangled hair. She could still smell and feel the herbs that Eliseo mixed together into a soothing salve for her.

  Red knew that two guard rotations had moved through the cavern before Robyn Thorn decided that it was time to return to life’s realities. But she could not fathom how or when she was returned to her room—tucked into bed with a clean face and new bandages wrapped around her arm. Red could only feel the warmth and comfort that surrounded her body and pulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 20

  The shattering of glass echoed through the silent halls of the Rogue Manor as another priceless vase was thrown against Arthur Welin’s office wall. Three vases had already been thrown and broken, water and flower petals joining the glass shards on the littered carpets. The Kingdom Rogues standing around the room were terrified of the next flying object that would come their way.

  “They jumped down an enchanted, disappearing rabbit hole?!” Arthur Welin thundered before the last bits of vase fell to the floor.

  Bryce Clayden, the Kingdom Rogue leading the briefing, only nodded his head, his eyes never looking past the bottom of his leader’s desk. The rest of the group kept their heads bowed, but their eyes glanced up to watch Arthur closely in case they needed to duck out of the way of his next throw.

  “I sent more than thirty of you to patrol the forest. And you let two rebels scampering about get the best of you.” Arthur shook his head in disgust, his eyes burning with rage. His cheeks were red from the yelling, his clothes shifted out of place and rumpled from his violent movements.

  Harry Ordom listened intently as he carefully swept up the shattered vase. He kept his head down, hiding the soft smile that crept across his lips.

  “Why are you still here?” Arthur Welin demanded, waving his hands furiously at the trembling group standing in front of him. “You are even more useless than I thought if you think that standing there stupidly is going to turn this situation around. If you were true Kingdom Rogues, you would be finding a way to get into that damned rabbit hole as I speak!”

  The Kingdom Rogues gave their apologies a final time before they scurried out of the room in search of answers. Their feet clattered down the halls as they rushed to their separate living quarters. If they were smart, they would not venture into the rest of the manor until the morning.

  “Master Welin, please take a seat before your stress causes you to collapse,” Harry suggested. He stepped up to his boss, the ever-faithful servant ready to assist him in any way. Harry was disgusted by how he presented himself to Arthur and the rest of the Kingdom Rogues, but revealing his treasonous acts would be, well, treason.

  “Those idiots have no right to be here,” Arthur spat, but he followed the butler’s instructions and fell back into the leather cushions of his desk chair. His eyes were still alight with anger, but the flush in his cheeks had begun to fade into a pale pink. “No one else should be allowed into these halls.”

  Harry bustled around the room, gathering the tea tray that he had forgotten when the first vase had been thrown past his head. He bit his lip to keep from replying, not daring to break protocol. He gently placed a saucer and teacup in front of Arthur, trying his best to stay out of his way lest his anger return and have no one else to fall on.

  Arthur sighed, his body slouching even further in his seat. He raked his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends in frustration. “Red was the only one who would have finished that mission with energy to spare. She was desperate to impress the group, to rise to the top. She knew that she had to work tirelessly to get to where she belonged. All that hard work, and for what?”

  “Careful, Master Welin, it almost sounds like you wish she was still here,” Harry Ordom said lightly, his curiosity escaping through his words.

  “I hate her without bound, Harry. Don’t you think otherwise. And wishing does me no good. Besides, I’ve already made it clear that she’s dead to me.”

  Harry was shocked to hear the almost heartfelt confession that the despicable Arthur Welin was pouring out to him. In his years as the head butler, Harry had never had more than a handful of civil conversations with his master—Arthur was either always too angry or too busy to bother paying attention to him.

  Arthur Welin did not realize what he was admitting until he had already said too much. Most servants would have their tongues removed and their hands broken beyond repair if they were to hear such a conversation.

  But Harry was the only person—after Arthur himself—to have remained a member of the Kingdom Rogues for so long. His silence was imperative to keeping the Kingdom Rogues in order, and Arthur did not doubt that his trust was a much more enticing prize to the older man than any type of threats or violence.

  Arthur watched Harry as he pulled the room back into its rich nature. The man was not fast, but not a speck of glass was left behind when his work was done. Arthur admired the attention to detail, even as he took time to mourn over the priceless vases that sat at the bottom of the rubbish bin.

  When Harry finished mopping up the spilled water, Arthur stated, “I don’t know what I would do without your hard work, Harry. It’s a shame that no one else here cares about me as much as you do.”

  “I’m just doing my job,” Harry Ordom commented with a shrug. He did not fully return the stare that Arthur held on him, afraid that his true thoughts would be expressed through his traitorous expressions.

  “I have never thanked you for what you do for me, and I regret knowing that even some gratitude could have increased your productivity immensely.”

  “There is no thanks necessary,” Harry rushed to reply. His palms grew sweaty as he tried to look into the meaning that was surely hidden behind Arthur Welin’s words. In an effort to draw attention away from himself, Harry added with a bow, “It is an honor to be working for you.”

  “I would assume so,” Arthur stated with more pride than a peacock. “But no matter the honor, this is me thanking you. May the Destroyer not take you into his eternal realm
for many years to come.” Arthur Welin raised his teacup to salute the butler before turning to the piles of paperwork lining his desk—their brief discussion over.

  ~~~

  Harry Ordom was prepared for the worst if he were ever found out, but he had not prepared for anything like that meeting. He was an old butler who had worked hard to stay invisible his whole life. He was a bystander involved in every aspect of the Kingdom Rogues’ lives.

  Harry never considered that while he was watching everyone else, someone could also be watching him. Even without Britta Lozano’s warnings, the old butler knew that he needed to be extra careful. Harry knew that he could not disrupt any of Arthur’s major plans until he was ready to leave the rest of his duties behind.

  Kingdom Rogues of all shapes and sizes passed Harry as he pondered over his decisions. Most ignored him. But with the knowledge that Arthur Welin had taken the time to watch him, the butler could not help but wonder which pupils had also taken an interest in his business.

  Some students called out their hellos or nodded their heads in greeting as they walked to the mess hall or training rings. They did not seem to take any more interest in him, but Harry Ordom knew that it would take one slip up, and all eyes could be drawn to him.

  It seemed that Harry was not the only Kingdom Rogue who worried about getting the wrong attention turned toward them.

  Bryce Clayden walked around the manor shyly, his eyes darting around at every passing figure as if he were waiting for Arthur Welin to magically appear—ready to throttle him. Little did Bryce know that Arthur had already forgotten about what he had told him during the mission debriefing.

  Bryce had earned the short stick and had been forced to tell Arthur what had happened in the woods. And he had almost suffered the damage from not one, but two of the vases that Arthur had thrown his way.