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

by Sara E. Tonissen

  The rest of the apprentices with him had left Arthur’s office shaken up, but he had left terrified. His legs barely carried him out into the hallway before he fell back against one of the walls for support, the rest of the group dispersing to hide out in their rooms.

  Harry spotted Bryce Clayden carefully making his way through the hall, his Kingdom Rogue poaching senses perking up at the sight of the anxious boy. Harry remembered the boy’s face when Arthur had been yelling at him. The rage shrouded with despair at the treatment that was probably similar—if not worse—than what he had received before joining the Kingdom Rogues.

  Harry managed to catch Bryce’s wandering eye, and he signaled for the boy to walk with him. Bryce’s face fell in panic, but he obeyed without struggle. The two did not say anything as Bryce Clayden followed after the butler. Harry Ordom was glad to see that the boy’s panic faded into relief when they entered an empty room in the servant’s quarters—Arthur Welin nowhere in sight.

  “You must be wondering why I have brought you here with me,” Harry stated once he had securely shut and locked the door.

  “Am I being reassigned to butlery?” Bryce asked, completely serious.

  Harry let out a laugh, his big belly jostling with the shake of his shoulders. “My dear boy, you would never be able to handle my job.”

  Harry’s light-hearted tone did not seem to ease the boy’s tension, but he did not say anything as he waited for further explanation. Bryce Clayden examined Harry closely, marking any pressure points that could be reached on his husky body. He was ready to make a mad dash for the door, but he waited for the butler to speak, not wanting to cause him any harm before he could explain himself.

  Harry Ordom saw all of this, expecting nothing less from someone who had been on a mission with Dranac Gnorw and survived his accidental time with the Norton twins. He would not stray from his course, though, despite knowing the dangers that he was putting himself in.

  “Have you ever considered leaving the Kingdom Rogues?”

  Bryce practically jumped back with shock as he exclaimed, “Of course not! H-how could you think that? I am completely loyal t-to Arthur and… and the cause that he stands for.”

  “I wasn’t finished,” Harry stated dryly. “There have been many times when I considered leaving the Kingdom Rogues. I was trained to serve kings and queens. My talents are wasted here.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Bryce asked quietly, his face filled with confusion, but Harry focused on the curiosity that lingered underneath.

  “I am trying to help you. Your own talents are wasted here, even more so than mine because you have barely scratched the surface of your potential.”

  “How am I supposed to fix that?” Bryce demanded. He stepped closer to Harry as if the proximity could get his point across. “I have been assigned to do my chores and train with the others. If Arthur had another need for me, he would assign me to something else.”

  “You are missing my point,” Harry Ordom interjected, his hand resting on the boy’s slim shoulder. “You are a young, bright boy. There should be nothing stopping you from becoming a successful businessman or merchant. But there is.

  “The Kingdom Rogues are meant to be a safe haven for those who do not fit into the structure of the kingdoms. But Arthur has aligned himself with Queen Beauty, going against the foundation that he created. We have never rested in neutral territory, but now we are no longer following neutral policies either.

  “Arthur Welin has created generations of killers and thieves, never realizing that true talent lies beyond a blade.”

  Harry stopped to take a breath in his rant, realizing that he had strayed from his point. The butler decided to get back on his original course as he asked, “Don’t you want more with your life than killing and stealing?”

  “Of course I want more, but those are the only options I have.”

  “What if I can offer you something more?” Harry inquired softly, almost shyly as he tried to gauge how Bryce was reacting to everything else he had said.

  Bryce Clayden took a step back, shocked by what the butler was practically confessing. The whispered stories of the Kingdom Rogues had always intrigued him as a boy. As a child, Bryce wanted nothing more than to escape the fists of his uncle. The freedom that the Kingdom Rogues secretly offered was worth more than money to a naive, hurt child.

  During the debriefing in Arthur Welin’s office, Bryce had wondered what his life would have been like if he had remained living under his uncle’s roof. He always knew when a fist would come flying his way, but he had never had a vase hurled at his head with such deadly accuracy.

  “How can you offer me anything?” Bryce Clayden asked indignantly, assuming that Harry was just spewing pretty lies to trick him. “You’re just a butler.”

  Harry’s eyes lit up with delight at the question. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Can you just get to your point?” Bryce demanded. “If this doesn’t turn out, I still have chores to do.” He gestured toward the rest of the manor that lay beyond the closed door.

  “You’ll never escape your chores, but what if you were doing them for a good cause?” Harry paused to let Bryce consider, but the boy only waved his hands to signal the butler to continue. “The information that I am going to tell you could get both of us tortured and killed if Arthur Welin were to ever find out.”

  “I would have killed you already if I wasn’t interested in your offer,” Bryce claimed. He indeed looked interested in what the butler had to say, but Harry Ordom still worried that his trust was spread a little too thin.

  “I have been a part of the rebel alliance since the beginning of its creation at the start of the war. Overturning the monarchies was nothing more than an idea back then. But it was an idea that we knew many other creatures shared with us.

  “Soon enough, our numbers had increased greatly, and creatures from every kingdom joined our ranks daily. It was amazing to see that all walks of life could come together, working to save their families and secure their futures.”

  Harry took a pause in his speech, his eyes gazing into the distance as if he were watching those days play over again and again. The butler only came to his senses when Bryce Clayden let out a cough to break him out of his trance.

  “Over the next few years,” Harry continued with a shake of his head, “our organization expanded across the continent and onto Seadell. We were a force to be reckoned with. Our mere size was enough to scare some of the queens into submission.

  “But our troops were untrained. We had planned and prepared for every famine and sickness that could cross our paths, but we did not consider that our followers would need to learn how to fight. Taking down our enemies was always our goal. But violence was nothing more than a distant thought.

  “We lost more than half of our troops to Queen Beauty’s army in less than three days. The rest were either too injured or too distraught to continue the fight.”

  Harry looked away, ashamed. His normally cheerful face was torn apart by the guilt and shame that had been hidden away for years.

  “I get your point,” Bryce stated to once again break up Harry’s silence. “You need more fighters so you can take down the queens.”

  “It’s not just so we can win against their armies,” Harry stammered, his face flushed as he tried to regain his footing in his explanation. “We need more people to fight, yes. But we need those people to push for a change in our society. You could be the person we need to make that change!”

  “Don’t try to sell this to me with some destiny magical crap. I don’t buy anything that our so-called ‘Maker’ does for us,” Bryce Clayden chided. “Nothing controls my destiny except myself.”

  Harry Ordom scratched at the base of his neck bashfully, his hands growing warm as his pink flush spread out in a darker crimson. “My apologies, I did not mean to offend you. Please don’t let my slip up steer you away from what I have just told you.”

  “I have noth
ing here. I had less than nothing back home. What do I have to lose?” Bryce sighed. He had gone through the dark underworld and back again. How much damage could he do in a place made up entirely of outcasts and wannabes like himself?

  Harry grabbed hold of Bryce’s arm before the boy could exit the room. The young assassin did not like the intensity in the butler’s eyes, but he could not look away from the storm that roiled within them.

  “You have no idea how much more you could lose in a war,” Harry argued quietly. “Go to Lauravelle, the rebels will find you there.”

  Just as quickly as he had grabbed him, Harry let Bryce Clayden go. With a quick bow, the butler left the room, leaving the boy to his thoughts.

  Harry smiled to himself as he made his way through the servant’s hallway, confident that he had managed to turn at least one Kingdom Rogue back toward the Maker’s light.

  Bryce Clayden slipped out of the room after he had collected his thoughts. He did not expect to make much of a difference within the rebel ranks. Harry Ordom had too much faith. But he knew that he could do less harm if he was no longer on the Kingdom Rogues’ side.

  ~~~

  Dranac Gnorw stooped down to pick up a stuffed doll that had fallen onto the cobblestones. He picked at the fishing wire threads and the potato sack fabric that held it all together. A leaf stuck out of the back of the neck—the stuffing within was made up of anything that would keep the toy from falling limp.

  Drip… Drip… Drip…

  Dranac ignored the whispers that were always trying to pull him away from reality. He tucked the doll inside his coat pocket, the bloody whispers distracted by the meal that he had provided.

  The child’s screams had long ago subsided, their life magic stripped away with a single slash of Dranac’s knife. No help had come. And no one would care until they found the drained remains in the morning.

  Drip… Drip… Drip…

  The voices that filled Dranac’s head were not happy with him. The sustenance that he had provided was not enough to fill its unrelenting hunger. His methods were too slow. His travels were not leading them to the right place. The smell of their target had faded weeks ago.

  Dranac Gnorw pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing away the sticky red drops that constantly fell from his lashes. “Shut up,” Dranac shouted into the night. A curse-filled shout sounded back, but the words were drowned out by the river of blood that rushed through Dranac’s ears. “You have no right to complain when you tell me who to kill and who to spare.”

  Drip… Drip… Drip…

  “Pure blood or not, I am tired of you taking control,” Dranac cursed. He glared up at the moon, his eyes squinting at the pink-tinted light that it cast over the ignorant world below. Dranac was tired of seeing nothing but red. He hated feeling nothing but the heat of freshly spilled blood coat his body—his mind. Dranac despised that iron was the only thing he could smell or taste.

  Dranac had first welcomed the warmth that promised nothing but protection and comfort. But he had soon learned that too much warmth could suffocate someone—could burn through flesh and bones.

  Dranac despised the blood that stuck to his very being, guiding his every movement. He wished that he could free himself from the bond created through lying and deceit. But the creature—the being—that had taken all of his control would not be satisfied until the smell of Red’s blood was fresh in the air. Until her heart was skewered on the tip of his knife.

  Drip… Drip… Drip…

  Dranac twirled Arthur Welin’s dagger through his fingers as he watched his hated companion finally leave the child’s side. The sticky ruby swirls of power wove around his body, reaching out to grasp his hand. The pressure of the roiling current forced the blade into his opened palm. It licked away the blood that sprouted from the cuts and scratches that the dagger’s blade created with every swipe over Dranac’s hand and wrist.

  When the sustenance that Dranac provided was not enough, he could not control where the knife went. His arms were never quite healed—the constant sting from each cut reminded him that he had lost all control.

  Drip… Drip… Drip…

  Dranac watched in horror as his hand laid the dagger flat against his forearm. He only turned away when he could no longer hold the knife at bay, the blood forcing him to dig the blade into his skin.

  Before his own blood could escape the boundaries of the cut, swirls of crimson reached out until the two streams were combined into one. Dranac Gnorw could feel surges of power pushing through his veins. His body fell forwards, the dagger clanking against the hard cobblestones as he reached out to catch his fall.

  Drip… Drip… Drip…

  Knowledge. Fear. Power.

  Emotions that had no name—no meaning—hit Dranac’s nerves, burrowing into his mind. Dranac could feel everything. And nothing.

  The once comforting warmth became a sweltering heat that would not subside. The blanket of protection was only there to hold him in place. Nothing was left private in Dranac’s violated mind.

  Drip… Drip… Drip…

  “I will find her,” Dranac Gnorw cried. His face was pressed into the ground, his labored breath stirring the dirt. “For you. I’ll find her for you. I promise.”

  The suffocation of the blood subsided as the blood oath was sealed. The bolts of power pulled out of Dranac’s veins, remaining only to mop away the blood that was still being drawn out of his wounds.

  Dranac’s body could only feel the soft magic that stroked a crimson hand through his hair. His drooping eyes could only see the beauty in the single color that coated his vision. His mind was left to only remember the warmth that was there to comfort him. Lying in the middle of the alley, Dranac Gnorw drifted off into a forced sleep.

  Chapter 21

  Trees streamed past in blurs of emerald and oak. Patches in the dense canopy let in rays of blinding sunlight. Rocks and lonely bushes jumped into the winding path along the forest floor every chance they got.

  Dozens of footsteps crashed through the underbrush, dead leaves and fallen twigs cracking underfoot. The Kingdom Rogues did not pay notice to the plants that they trampled and uprooted in their wake. Red’s own racing footsteps helped with most of the destruction that the pack brought into the forest.

  Along with their destructive feet, the Kingdom Rogues blindly shot black arrows into the unarmed woods. Animals not lucky enough to dodge out of the way were left behind as the arrows returned their life magic to the Destroyer.

  Red could not see the target that her companions were aiming for. But she nocked an arrow in her bow—always following orders.

  Finally, Red focused on the splash of unnatural color that rushed ahead of her. Even as she raced through the forest, Red knew that she would hit her mark. Drawing back the tarnished arrow never felt so natural to her. Her target was easily in sight as Red lifted her bow and aimed with calculated ease.

  Red let the ebony arrow fly, her fingers releasing on trained instinct.

  Before she could see if her arrow had flown true, Red was hit from behind. She shouted in pain as she collapsed to the ground, her body rolling with the momentum. Red could not see the attacker, but black arrows continued to rain down around her.

  Red tried to drag herself out of the range of fire, but the woods provided no suitable protection. Panic closed around her chest as she heard footsteps approach the clearing she had landed in. Red pushed away the fear that could easily take over her instincts and render her useless. She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing those emotions to settle deep in her stomach.

  The pounding of footsteps only drew nearer until they slowed and stopped at the concealed edge of the clearing. The crunch of leaves continued until several pairs of footsteps stopped to wait at each corner of the empty space in the vast forest.

  Rallying up the only attitude that she could wield, Red shouted, “Too scared to finish me off?”

  A laugh that sounded too familiar to Red’s ears made its way th
rough the bushes nearest her. Branches and leaves rustled as her assailant stepped into the clearing. That well known chuckle filled Red’s ears again as her enemy stated, “You don’t scare me.”

  Red raged against her pain as she pushed herself away. The arrows that had barely missed her scraped against her palms as she pushed herself into the fully exposed space. The arrow that had met its mark felt slick against her clammy palms. The tang of iron coated her tongue as she bit back her surprise.

  “This isn’t possible,” Red whispered.

  “Oh honey, anything is possible when you dream it into reality,” her dreamself stated.

  Red had heard many stories from mad hatters wasting their time in rundown pubs. Most were laughed off, their rants chalked up to nothing more than visions dreamt up in their crazed states. Even some of those hatters laughed at their own stories.

  But Red could no longer deny that the stories about ‘dreamselves’ were absolutely true. These beings were unconscious projections of oneself in the world of dreams. Whether they were good or bad, it was often told that dreamselves were only created by the maddest of hatters. Red hoped that this dreamself was only emerging because the rebel doctor’s pain relievers still coursed through her veins confusing her mind.

  “What do you want from me?” Red demanded. She continued to scoot away, but every push back caused her dreamself to take another step closer.

  “If I had my, I mean our way, I’d want nothing from you. But since we are one and the same, it looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

  Red could feel her body trembling with rage as she looked upon her dreamself. Red knew that every movement and snarky statement was completely mirrored. She would have rather believed that she was looking into some twisted magical mirror. But there was something dark resting behind her dreamself’s eyes that proved her own were not deceiving her.

  Red had grown to ignore the darkness that dwelled within her. When it did surface, she knew that her power was something to fear. But she had never imagined how terrifying that darkness could be from the outside when she only knew how horrible it felt on the inside.