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

by Sara E. Tonissen

  A couple of people shuddered as the weight of Red’s words settled over them. She counted several faces that were a pale green from possible sickness. Red shared a worried glance with Robyn, but he warily nodded for her to keep going.

  “I cannot tell you how to win, or even how to survive during your upcoming battles. But I can give you the one rule that I live by: do not hesitate.” Red’s eyes locked onto Gretel Norton, but her words were still meant for the whole crowd to hear. “You take even a moment to hesitate in a battle, and your enemy will strike you down in one fell swoop.”

  Robyn clapped his hands together once to break the pin dropping silence that surrounded the room. Some of the gathered rebels shook their heads as if the sound of the clap had just broken them out of a trance. Everyone looked as though they were reconsidering whether their cause was still worth fighting for.

  “Thank you for the advice, Red,” Robyn Thorn stated to try to bring the meeting to a close. “Everyone should all head to complete their afternoon chores before we get behind and have to miss lunch. I think we all have a lot to ponder over.”

  Red pushed her way through the sluggish crowd. She practically skipped out into the hall, her hands twiddling with her new orb as she went. The rest of the patrons did not leave with quite as much pep in their step.

  Gretel fumed as Red’s words were thrown around her head, but only because she knew they were completely right. Gretel had worked tirelessly to get to where she was in the rebel ranks. She had never asked for permission to prove that she was best suited at the top. She would be damned if she let a cocky murderer undermine her confidence in her work.

  So Gretel Norton took Red’s words to heart, promising that she would not let anyone else get the best of her.

  Chapter 22

  Prince Sampson groaned as the reverberation of metal striking together made the bones in his arms tingle. Sampson’s muscles strained against his opponent’s maneuvers. His hands were keen on holding his sword firm in his white-knuckled grasp. His feet and legs were only there to keep him standing—his entire body a defensive machine.

  His body was an impenetrable fortress protecting the prince within. He was as strong as the knowledge and focus that guided him. But Sampson’s mind was only tuned to the tickle of the bead of sweat that slid between his shoulder blades, collecting at the base of his back.

  Every point in Sampson’s body pulled at his brain, begging for rest. Yet the prince refused to let his opponent’s skill—or sword—get the best of him. A tough task to follow through with when his enemy was more skilled and weathered in the art of battle; and was merciless to no end.

  Sampson’s focus could not help but slip again as his feet forgot how to plant themselves, losing precious traction. He teetered about, trying to regain his balance, only to lose all stability with a kick to knock out his legs.

  The clatter of his sword falling against the ground rang through the prince’s ears. Sampson marveled at the array of sparks that flew across his vision as the air was knocked from his lungs. He lay on the ground for a moment, his body refusing all directions to move. Sampson did not bother to look up at his opponent holding his sword to his exposed neck.

  The guard that he had been sparring with drew away his blunt edged training sword with a lavish flick. He bowed to the still immobile prince before reaching his hand out to help him stand again. “You really should find better footwear,” the guard said with a laugh. “Those boots are as useless as a female’s shoe.”

  “I wouldn’t call all of their shoes useless,” Sampson commented dryly. He took the guard’s outstretched hand, grunting as he was forced back onto his feet. “Their heels are sharp enough to take an eye out.” Sampson rubbed at the spot where his newest bruise was already blooming on his tailbone.

  The guard gave a hearty laugh with an agreeing nod of his head before bowing once more. He returned to join the clamor of soldiers at the water table, barely even sweating from his exercise with the prince. The man was easily welcomed into a circle of fellow fighters, all taking well deserved breaks from their training.

  Whether it was the boys barely older than sixteen or men well into their forties, guards and soldiers alike mingled throughout the training hall. Some worked on their agility by the tree-sized marble pillars paired with crates lined with spikes to create the perfect obstacle course. Others sparred on the dark training mats that had been fitted to cover the hall’s floor from end to end.

  Suspicious stains could be seen when light from the wrought iron chandeliers and sconces hit them at certain angles—but only Sampson still seemed to care.

  Weapons of every shape and size lined every available wall that was not occupied by ornamental armor or long-lost clan flags. Water pitchers and cracked ale mugs were scattered wherever they could fit in the organized chaos that was a second home to most of the soldiers.

  The older veterans recreated epic and gruesome battles for the star-struck recruits. The unfortunate training dummies were used as frozen enemies that were sloppily restuffed and sewn back together after losing time and time again.

  The truly war-hardened fighters had the chance to show off their enchanted artificial limbs and digits. It was easy for the light-hearted men to play practical jokes on the more fidgety recruits. They even managed to leave Sampson scared out of his wits more times than he cared to admit.

  Everyone trained together, teaching and learning survival skills that could potentially save their lives one day. The soldiers honed their skills day and night, a new batch sent off to fight with the dwarves at the front lines every few weeks in exchange for the bloodied and horrified men that could no longer go on.

  Sampson always watched the guards clap each other on their backs with high spirits from their wins, and even their losses. Despite the privileges that the prince held over the crowd, Sampson was jealous of the freedoms they had.

  But in a place where experience meant everything, Sampson was pleased that the title of ‘prince’ meant nothing. He had been training on and off for over two months, yet he was no more important than the newest recruits. The respect was always there, but the pressures and proprietary garbage were left in the courtroom the moment Sampson stepped into the training hall.

  Sampson flinched as someone clapped his lower back, pulling him away from his thoughts.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” General Helio stated unapologetically. “Someone kick your ass?”

  Sampson gave the general a look that would get any other man besides him a long, angry lecture. “I fell,” he replied tersely, rubbing out the spasm in his muscles. Sampson caught Helio’s glare in return. His dark eyes were like smoldering fires that could burst into flames—never to be doused out.

  The prince did not want the general’s cruel attention to stay on him for long, but his focus was not as steady away from the protection of the courtroom. With the pain in his backside barely subsided, Sampson dumbly asked, “So how are the front lines?”

  “What kind of a stupid question is that?” Helio barked, his naturally pink face turning a darker shade of blush. “How am I supposed to answer that? Bloody? Full of dead soldiers?”

  Sampson’s face turned its own shade of blush as he was thoroughly yelled at. The soldiers chuckled at the predicament he had gotten himself into. But none of them were dumb enough to do anything more than giggle before moving onto their next set of exercises.

  Sampson could only manage to open and close his mouth like a bass out of water as he tried to say something that could break up Helio’s rage-filled rant. The prince vowed to never ask the general another question that strayed away from the weather or his mother.

  “I just meant to ask how the war efforts are going,” the prince dangerously cut in after Helio’s first dozen swear words had made it into his monologue. Sampson could practically see the steam wafting out of the general’s ears from the interruption. A vein in his forehead bulged as the blood continued to rush to his head. Falling on his ass in fron
t of everyone for the rest of the day looked more appealing to Sampson than talking to the general for one more minute.

  The prince thought he had arrived at a safe topic when Helio crossed his arms in a huff. But he soon realized that he had only dug a deeper grave for himself as he was trying to climb back up to the surface.

  “That information is confidential,” the general replied, the color in his face steadying at a solid shade of pink watermelon. “I can only share those details in the queen’s private chambers or the royal courtroom. Why would you even try to ask me such a question here?”

  “You are absolutely right,” Sampson agreed, trying to get the general’s less mean temper back. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Don’t get snarky with me, boy.”

  “Did you need me for something, General? Because I think I need to ice down for a bit before returning to court. And you know how my mother can get when I’m away from court for long.”

  Sampson tried his best to make his escape. He might have been past the point of exhaustion, but the prince was fully prepared to run for the door to get away from the general. The pain in his body would be a welcome relief compared to the pain of trying to keep up a conversation with the agitated dwarf.

  “I will ignore your disrespect to my queen,” Helio grunted, “but only because I need to talk to you.”

  The prince stopped planning his escape route as his ears caught onto the concern in the general’s voice. Nothing mattered more to Helio than ensuring that Queen Snow White received proper respect from her people—even from her son. Sampson knew that the matter was truly serious if he was not going to be scolded for not meeting General Helio’s standards for that respect.

  With one last longing stare toward the door, the prince turned to Helio, “You have my full attention.”

  “Not here!” Helio practically shouted. The vein in his forehead popped out dangerously again as he grabbed Sampson’s arm. Every soldier and guard watched in awe as the General of Airaldan’s Royal Dwarf Army dragged the Prince from the training room. The smartest of the bunch pulled the other men out of the way of the determined dwarf who could end their palace careers with a single word.

  Sampson did not dare to protest as he was dragged about the palace, his forearm aching at the death-grip that Helio had on it. Servants scuttled out of the way, many with pale faces as they remembered why they had to hide from the general.

  A few brave souls gave the prince nods of encouragement as he went on his way, but no one could stop General Helio—no one would dare to try.

  Helio paid no heed to any being that he passed. He only tightened his iron grip the longer that he pulled Sampson through the castle. The general had one thing on his mind. And no one was going to get in the way of the steadfast dwarf with no control over his comically short temper.

  “Where are you taking me?” Sampson tried to ask without sounding annoyed. His fingers were tingling with numbness as Helio’s grip began to cut off his circulation.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “It is when you’re cutting off the blood supply to my hand with that grip. Not to mention the crick in my back from walking hunched over.”

  The general ignored the prince’s complaints, tugging on his arm to emphasize that he did not care. The pair circled around the main servant’s corridor three times before the general decided to slow his pace.

  Sampson’s impatience only grew as Helio continued to circle the hall, looking around as if he was trying to find someone in the empty hallway. The general opened every unlocked door, demanding any remaining unlucky servants to leave.

  “What are we do—”

  “Shhh!” Helio interrupted Sampson as he double checked that every room was empty. “No questions until we are in private.”

  “Private from whom? You already scared everyone away.”

  Sampson did not have time to regret having such a harsh tone because he was shoved into a cramped supply closet. His sight went dark as Helio pushed his way through, shutting the door behind them.

  Sampson stretched his hands out, his fingers scraping against the brick wall and wood brooms as he tried not to run into anything. He yelped at the feeling of small hands pushing the back of his knees in, causing him to fall back against the cleaning supplies stacked throughout the closet.

  “What the…?” Sampson exclaimed. His head bashed against a set of shelves, and his arms wheeled around as he tried to gain balance in the now dangerous space. He fell back onto what could only be an overturned bucket that immediately tipped over at the uneven distribution of weight. Sampson did not bother to pick himself up, knowing that he would only injure himself more.

  The strike of a match being lit brought the prince back to his overwhelmed senses. The little space was illuminated by a candle that Helio had set on the open floor between himself and the prince. The general looked almost delighted at the sight of Sampson sprawled across the dirty ground—the remaining sweat on his pants and shirt clung to every speck of dirt and dust that he touched.

  “What is going on here?” Sampson asked incredulously. He picked himself up off the ground, readjusting the bucket that he plopped down on without bothering to brush himself off. “I think I deserve a pretty good explanation after all that.”

  “You’re the one that has some explaining to do,” General Helio replied in the most civil tone Sampson had ever heard from him. The general almost looked calm as he watched the prince try to make the seating a little more comfortable.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sampson stated with complete honesty.

  “Then I’m assuming you also don’t know about the money missing from your vault.”

  Sampson’s breath caught in his throat at the accusation. He knew the money was missing because he was slowly sending funds to the rebel encampment in Perancis. Sampson was ready to curse himself for not being careful enough despite the fact that he had full control over those funds.

  “What do you mean there’s money missing from my vault?” Sampson asked, trying to stay calm as he lied to Helio. “How much is missing?”

  “Just a few thousand gold and silver coins. Not a very big sum when you consider the full extent of your trust.”

  “If it’s not a big deal then why are you worried about it? Shouldn’t the royal treasurer have brought this to my attention?” Sampson was proud of how well he was playing off the dilemma.

  “I assume that you have much more important business to attend to.” Sampson pushed on his knees to stand from his seat on the bucket. “I will speak with the guards at the vaults to see if they noticed any funny business. The royal treasurer and I can handle this little issue.”

  “How dare you lie to me,” the general said with a frozen rage that rivaled the power of his normal fiery anger. “I have watched you grow up. I did not expect my future king to be a corrupt liar.”

  Sampson was shocked by the true disappointment in the general’s words. He slowly sank back down onto the overturned bucket in shame. “How much do you know exactly?” the prince asked with a wary stare toward the general.

  “I know that you are not ready to start a rebellion,” the general hissed. “I also know that Airaldan to lose its future king, despite the fact that you are throwing your crown around for anyone to have.”

  “I have no intention of letting them take the crown,” Sampson defended quietly. “And I also know that we cannot afford for this war to go on for much longer.”

  The general turned away from the prince like a pouting toddler as the truth from that statement hit him. The prince had meant no disrespect, but he was not going to let himself be slandered without fighting back. Sampson had had enough of the war. His mother was drained, his people were restless, and he was tired of waiting on the sidelines for something to happen.

  “I can no longer pretend that everything is going to be alright.”

  “Everything you say brings you one step closer to admitting
treason,” General Helio challenged. “Who gave you the right to take these actions?”

  “I did.”

  Helio was taken aback by the confidence in the prince’s tone. He was furious at the boy for being so foolish, but he admired his gumption. “Why should I not take this information to my queen, your mother?”

  “Because you and I both know that this would kill her,” Sampson stated without breaking the general’s eye contact. He knew it was a low blow, but Sampson knew that Helio would do everything in his power to keep anything from hurting his mother.

  Sampson leaned closer to the dwarf who had always been a powerful figure in his life. “You and I both know that she can’t keep going like this. Even if the rebellion fails, it has the chance to give us enough time to at least propose a peace treaty.”

  “So you’re telling me that you’re funding an organization that is going to fail?” Helio asked, annoyed that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He shook his head and leaned back against the closet door. The general rubbed at his forehead furiously, most likely making his headache worse. “I didn’t think you were a quitter.”

  “I am not quitting on the rebels,” Sampson defended. His hands clenched together to keep his own temper from rising past its limit. “I would not be personally funding them if I didn’t think they stood a chance against any of the armies. I may be inexperienced, but I know when to back out of a deal.”

  Helio stood so suddenly that Sampson was amazed that he did not slam his head against one of the lower shelves. The dwarf’s eyes roamed around the room—the wheels in his head visibly turned as he weighed his options.

  Sampson had never seen the general so undecided. He had never meant to draw anyone else into the tough place that he was uncomfortably situated in.

  After a few moments of deep consideration, Helio grasped Sampson by the shoulders. “You’re a smart kid, but you still got yourself into one heck of a mess.”