The Key (9 page)

He twirled
Rema around and pulled her back to him, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Rema felt everyone watching and appraising her. She tried to focus on the dance and Lennek, not allowing the people’s silent judgments to overwhelm her thoughts.

“I am Prince Lennek
, and you are Rema, the local horse merchant’s niece.” His voice was seductive. “And yes, you are currently engaged.” His head bent forward, his lips only inches from her ear. “But things can change. Nothing is set in stone,” he whispered.

She wasn’t sure what he was implying. Did he know she secretly didn’t want to marry
? His strong arm slid lower on her back. Rema stumbled, but Prince Lennek changed directions, keeping her upright. She quickly regained her footing, only missing one beat.

“Who taught you to dance?”
he pleasantly asked.

Her thoughts re
focused on Lennek. “My aunt.”

“Interesting. Most people in the merchant class do not know the dances of the upper class
—especially dances done with royalty.” His eyes held a questioning look, awaiting her answer.

“We are dancing ‘The Courting Dance
,’” Rema replied. “It was so named because it is only danced at court, also because it is usually done when a member of the royal family has decided to court someone. It reveals his intentions to his court.”

Lennek’s eyebrows lifted
up, surprised. “Why do you know the dance, then?” he inquired.

Was he insulting her?
Before she could think her response through, she said, “Perhaps my aunt thought such a beautiful dance shouldn’t be wasted on a select group of people who truly can’t appreciate it.” She smiled sweetly.

“Do you have an answer to everything?”
he asked, amused.

“Usually
,” she replied, holding her head high.

Prince Lennek
laughed and twirled her around again. This time, he pulled her in a little closer. Rema’s chest touched his. His warm hand held her tight. Without meaning to, she glanced up into his eyes. There was something hypnotic about them, and she was unable to look away.

“I am so glad you wandered into my life.
” Prince Lennek chuckled, like it was a private joke. “You are the key to everything.”

The music ended
, and the prince glanced away from her, breaking the spell. She stepped back, about to return to her seat, when Lennek grabbed her arm.

Shocked,
Rema stared at him. His smile vanished. His eyes were cold, as if a mask had been ripped from his face. She tried to step away, but his grip only tightened.

“What do you want?” she whispered
.

“You.”

It felt like spiders crawling over her skin. “You can’t have me,” she said.

His
features softened. “Really? We’ll see.” He snickered, his mask of charm instantaneously back on and the harshness gone.

Prince
Lennek motioned for his steward.

“
Rema is leaving the party now.”

Her shoulders dropped, relieved
. She was finally going home. Prince Lennek released her and strode away, never looking back. Rema rubbed her arm where he had held it. It was red and sore from his grip.

“
Follow me,” Arnek said, leading Rema away from the dance floor. Once they were alone in the hallway, two guards approached and took hold of her. Stunned, Rema knew she had just one chance to get out of this situation.

Darmik

The wooden practice sword sliced down past Darmik’s left shoulder. With a flick of his wrist, Darmik parried the blow. Then he spun, kicking his opponent in the chest, knocking him flat on his back. Landing in mud with a loud “umph,” the man blinked, stunned he’d lost in less than a minute. The soldiers who watched the match cheered.

“
If you want to move up in rank, you’re going to have to last longer than that,” Darmik said with a grin. He held his hand out, helping the man to his feet.

Darmik had
been putting his men through this test for the past year now—if a soldier wanted a promotion, he had to fight Darmik to show his skills. Based upon how well the soldier performed, Darmik would either allow or deny the advance in rank. And any man who could beat Darmik in a swordfight or a bow and arrow match, was automatically granted the position of corporal or sergeant.

Darmik
scrutinized his soldiers as they formed a loose circle around him. “Anyone else?” No one stepped forward. “Report to your squads. Dismissed.”

The rain
had picked up. Darmik could barely see two feet in front of him. There was no point in the entire army traveling through the storm. Outside Darmik’s tent, which also served as the company’s temporary command center, men were lined up, waiting to talk to him or give their daily reports. Darmik laughed at the irony; there was a time in his life when he was so lonely he would have done anything to be surrounded by people he knew and trusted.

Before Darmik
had taken over command of the King’s Army last year, his father had sent him to the Kingdom of Emperion for training. King Barjon had arranged with his brother-in-law, Emperor Hamen, to allow Darmik to attend their military school because there was nothing like it on Greenwood Island. Even though Darmik was born in Emperion, it had been over a decade since he’d been there, and a lot had changed. Darmik didn’t like to think about that time in his life, for it was the worst year he had ever experienced.

Emperion
was dry and brown with low, rolling hills. Most of the buildings were tan, blending in with the land. Emperor’s City, the largest city on the mainland, was dense and over-crowded. Every family was required to send two sons into the military for life, and as a result, families were large, adding to the overpopulation. The entire city was surrounded by an enormous stone wall because Emperor Hamen was fond of pillaging neighboring kingdoms—many of which had the means to retaliate. They went to war often.

When
Darmik had first arrived in Emperion, he had an accent and lacked the instinctive brutality of the other cadets who had attended the school their entire lives. He felt isolated. They made fun of him, calling him
soft
because he was a prince. At first Darmik assumed he’d be able to hold his own, but he quickly learned that his skills were inferior with each match he lost and each target he missed. He was demoted to a lower level class and had to relearn a lot of basic combat instruction.

Every day the
cadets awoke, ate, and dressed before sunrise. They had two hours of horse training, followed by sword fighting, knife throwing, hand-to-hand combat, military-strategy classes, and a short lunch. Afterwards, they ran military exercises until dark. Then they ate dinner, bathed, and studied until bedtime. It was the same thing every single day. No days off—no exceptions. The school’s purpose was to not only train powerful soldiers, but to create great military leaders.

Emperion
’s army was war-hungry and ruthless. The commander and captains of the Emperion Army epitomized these characteristics. They structured the school to produce soldiers who were both lethal and obedient—an unstoppable force. The school morphed into a mini army with its own rules and regulations.

The first rule
stated that if a person failed a class, he was sent home, and his family was forced to provide another son. Rule number two stated that if a cadet’s squad—that is, the group the cadet lived and trained with, fifteen people total—lost an exercise, everyone in that squad was whipped and assigned clean-up duty for a week. The third rule stated that if a person was caught doing something wrong by his instructor, such as giving away the squad’s position in a training exercise by being too noisy, then that cadet was beaten while the entire school watched. No, it was not an easy school, and Darmik had the scars to prove it.

However, t
he training he received was invaluable. Not only did Darmik become one of their top military students, but he also rose high in the ranks of his leadership classes. Yet, seeing firsthand how the kingdom was run and how the people lived, he had no desire to be in a place so singularly focused on war. Even the houses were designed for combat, and the people practiced weekly what to do if there was an attack. Children learned how to wield a sword instead of playing. Darmik came to believe that yes, an army should train and be prepared to defend its kingdom, but if war was avoidable, it should be at all cost.

When Darmik returned to
Greenwood Island, his father promoted him to Commander. Darmik combined all of his newfound knowledge and skills and put them into practice. He took his ten thousand soldiers and restructured the King’s Army. He divided them into ten different companies, one thousand men each. Every region had a company responsible for patrolling and policing that area, making sure people remained in their designated region. The army did not take orders from, nor did they report to, the governor of that region. Darmik maintained control over his army at all times, his men answering only to him. One additional company roamed the kingdom and went where needed, another company was stationed in King’s City, and the remaining company was off-duty and called upon when necessity arose.

In order to gain respect
from his soldiers, Darmik conducted war games with them. After repeatedly defeating his men, an unspoken understanding and loyalty developed. He also treated his men fairly and guaranteed all soldiers’ families were provided for. Young men joined willingly and became exceedingly devoted to Darmik.

Darmik’s boots sunk in the mud and the rain pounded on his head, bringing him back to the present.
Walking past the soldiers lined up waiting to talk to him, Darmik entered his tent. Inside, ten officers spoke at once.

Darmik raised his hand, silencing them. “Corporals,”
he said, standing next to his table with a map of Greenwood Island spread upon it. He hoped his specialized squads were able to uncover some vital information. “Your reports, one at a time, please.”

Two of his men stepped forward.

“Commander,” the first one said. “My squad just returned from Dresden. Rumors are being spread there.”

“And what
is being said, specifically?” Darmik asked.

“The key is coming
. Be prepared to fight to take back the kingdom, Sir.”

The second
corporal spoke, “The same is being said in all the cities that my squad passed through in Telan, Sir.”

Da
rmik pulled out his quill. “I need the names of the cities.”

The
corporals listed each of the towns they had traveled through. After Darmik marked each city on the map, he leaned back and studied the paper. So far, he was unable to determine any pattern.

He dispatched h
is squads to additional cities. Darmik swore he would figure this out. He would prove to his father that he was not only a worthy commander, but a strong and competent one as well.

****

The First Company reached the outskirts of King’s City before noon. The capital rested on the border between Dresden, Shano, and Telan. The city was built there shortly after the invasion. To avoid being taken by surprise, King Barjon wanted his fortress in the middle of an area with low ground, so he could see the surrounding land. He also wanted the city away from the ocean and potential invaders arriving by boat. For added security, the entire city was now surrounded by a thirty-foot high wall with sentries patrolling at all times.

Since they were now entering
King’s City, protocol had to be followed. Darmik raised his hand, signaling for his six designated men on horses to surround him. The men raised the kingdom’s flag along with the royal colors, indicating that not only was Darmik commander of the King’s Army, but that he was also a prince. Darmik removed his black riding cape and replaced it with his one made of royal-blue silk lined with silver.

The army changed formations in order to fit through the gated entrance. The streets inside were narrow,
requiring they march three-men wide. The gates opened, and the army began filtering through the twenty-foot thick wall. The soldiers posted in the gatehouse, which was built within the wall, saluted their commander in respect. Coming out the other side into the city, Darmik saw his father’s castle, sitting on top of a hill in the middle of the city. It was about three miles ahead, surrounded by another wall with additional guards.

King’s City
was a thriving place with several markets and thousands of people who worked and lived there. Darmik always felt claustrophobic and cramped when he entered the city. He couldn’t understand why people wanted to live on top of one another inside the walls, just for some additional protection. It was a high price to pay.

The army’s presence could never be kept hidden because one thousand
soldiers made a tremendous amount of noise—their boots drumming against the streets like hail on a glass window. The vibration from so many was felt for blocks.

When the company reached the military compound,
Darmik dismissed the soldiers to the barracks. After issuing orders to Captain Phellek, Darmik continued on the additional mile to the king’s castle. The noise and smells of the city—a combination of dirt, smoke, and horse—faded away the closer he came to the castle. No one was allowed to build or loiter within one hundred yards of the fortress wall, so the sentries had a clear view of Darmik approaching.

When he reached the gate, the castle guards saluted their commander.
Granted entrance, Darmik entered another world. The grounds were immaculate with vibrant-green grass, bushes sculpted into the shape of animals, and roses in full bloom. The white stone castle sat nestled on the land. People strolled about the grounds impeccably dressed, completing the picture. Even the smell changed to lavender and roses. Everything appeared peaceful, serene, and beautiful. But Darmik knew appearances could be deceiving.

After entering the cobblestone courtyard,
Darmik dismounted. Before he could stretch his back or remove his helmet, a steward approached.

“Welcome home, Prince Darmik
,” the steward bowed. “Your father is in the Throne Room. Shall I announce you?”

The king wouldn’t like
for his younger son to appear in the king’s court covered with road dust. However, if Darmik didn’t see his father right away, rumors would start. Besides, it was fun watching everyone’s court faces as they tried to hide their disgust at Darmik’s appearance. He had to find amusement where he could, for there was little in the castle.

The
steward escorted Darmik through the pristine hallways. The sun shone through the crystal-clear windows, its light bouncing from the marble floors. Passing by a statue of King Barjon, Darmik smiled, remembering a game of hide-and-seek he had played with Lennek. Darmik had hid behind the statue. He was so bored waiting for his brother to find him that he used his dagger to carve his initials into the statue. Only when he was done did he realize that he’d desecrated his father’s backside.

At
the entrance to the Throne Room, two guards stood posted outside. Upon seeing Darmik, they pulled the heavy, wood doors open.

The steward s
tepped around Darmik and cleared his throat. “His Highness, Prince Darmik.” Sixty heads snapped in Darmik’s direction. The obnoxious smell of perfume hung heavy in the air.

A
s Darmik walked down the center aisle, the courtiers stood, curtseyed or bowed, and stared at him. Their faces were blank and devoid of emotion. He looked down at himself, covered in dirt, his black boots almost brown. His face had a few days’ worth of stubble. He tried to suppress a smile.

The room was fifty
-feet long, the dais at the end on a raised, marble platform. And there, in his proper place, sat King Barjon. He wore his royal cape, lined with silver, and his gold crown with sapphires the size of fingernails sat atop his head. To the average person, the king appeared disinterested, almost bored. But Darmik knew better—his father’s right foot tapped impatiently. King Barjon’s hair and eyes were dark like Darmik’s, but that’s where the similarities ended as the king wore a thick beard and had a large belly.