“You know not what you follow,” it warned softly.
Levee’s stomach caught in her throat. Her eyes darted across her surroundings. Around her crickets chirped and nameless night birds called out to one another. The whisper of dead leaves intermingled with the crackle of movement in the brush. Was it a sentry, or some other creature prowling in the darkness? Suddenly Levee didn't feel so courageous.
“You know not what you follow.”
There it was again, this time a little louder than before. Levee tensed.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “What do you want?”
The sounds of nature hidden in the twilight were her only response. Levee considered her nomadic kin. Fear was their greatest weapon, and Levee was fully aware how powerful that tool of defense was. “Rahlik tu!” she demanded in the old tongue. Show yourself. If the stranger were a gypsy, he or she would respond.
But it wasn't, and no answer came.
Tears rose in her eyes, but she stubbornly corked their flow. It wouldn't do her any good to run from shadows and ruses. Instead, Levee tried to rustle up the bravery she knew existed somewhere inside of her.
Tempered eyes sought a route amidst the bramble that would lead her out of the trees and toward Milo’s home, but none came into view. Diego and the prince were long gone by now in a direction she couldn’t decipher. Melee shifted nervously as her ears and head flicked toward every tiny sound, and Levee knew they had to keep moving.
“Lead on, Melee,” she commanded. The gypsy mentally cursed her recklessness. What was the proverb her mother had always shared growing up? Curiosity dies with the fool.
She was a fool alright. Now she was a lost fool wandering in the forest. Milo wasn't here to save her tonight. Levee had the opportunity to go home, but she had chosen to seek answers instead, treading alone into untamed land.
Understanding how vulnerable she really was, the gypsy abandoned secrecy and called out for the prince once more. Her voice echoed against the nearby mountains, mocking her. Somewhere in the shadows she heard the soft ring of trinkets and her heart skipped with hope. Melee halted with a grunt, her wide brown eyes searching for the source of the sound.
“Rahlik tu!” Levee called out again.
“You know not what you follow,” the voice returned.
“I know!” Levee hollered back. “I heard you the first time.” The metal on Melee’s bridle jingled as she tossed her neck and shied, and the gypsy trusted the mare’s caution. She ran a hand across the mare's twitching neck. “But I have no idea how to get out of here, either, so unless you can kindly point me in the right direction, I’m going to continue wandering until I find His Highness.”
“Why do you hunt him?”
“I’m not hunting him,” she defended. “I work in the stables. It’s my duty to care for the equines in my charge, and I expect to know why one of them left the stables without my consent.”
“You lie,” the voice hissed.
“I do not,” there was a long pause following Levee’s statement that had her fidgeting anxiously.
“You know not what you follow.”
The gypsy tossed her hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. Conversing with this stranger was like talking to one of the castle walls. With a click of her tongue, she urged her mare onward.
“Go home, little horse-ear,” this time the voice didn't sound so pleasant. There was venom in its words, and Levee knew this stranger was not a part of her gypsy kin.
“Who are you really?” she asked.
Hurried footsteps circled the girl and her pony. Melee moved with the sound, beads of sweat forming on her trembling hide. Whatever this thing was, it had mastered the art of fear. It circled them twice, its gait carrying the deceptive ring of trinkets. Then it froze and Levee held her breath.
“Are you scared, little horse-ear?” Its voice changed again, this time to a crackling pitch that grated Levee’s tender ears.
“Are you?” she shot back. “I'm not the one hiding.”
“Oooo hoo hoo hoo,” it cackled. A figure spun out from behind one of the trees and fell to the ground, stirring up leaves as it scurried toward them like a spider.
The pony thrashed her hooves in attempt to keep the gangly thing at bay, but the crude monster kept just out of Melee’s range. It rose fearlessly to its feet, head cocked to the side. Thin tufts of mangy white hair grew in patches all over its child-sized, skeletal body. Its joints were knotted like the roots of an old tree and what little waist the monster owned donned a belt adorned with pieces of jagged metal to emulate a gypsy's sash.
Levee had heard stories about ghoulish tricksters such as these, but only in child’s tales.
“You're a mimic,” she said with disbelief.
“Mimic. Trickster. Monster. Call me what you wish,” the creature’s tone reminded her of shattering ice. It grinned, revealing two rows of long, needle-like teeth. With each approaching step the mimic took, Levee reined her palomino back, keeping their distance.
“What are you doing in Nevaharday?” Levee inquired, in spite of her terror.
“My business is no business of yours,” it replied. “But I could use something to eat. You and your pony look tasty. Mayhap I'll take a bite or two, hmm?”
The creature lunged for its prey, but not quick enough. Levee flinched as an arrow whistled by her ear, and hit its mark with a hollow thump. The mimic's eyes bulged with shock as it stared at the feathered arrow protruding from its chest.
“Not on my watch!”
Levee glanced over her shoulder to find a tall figure wearing a black cloak. She knew that voice! The prince had answered her call. He restrung another arrow as he moved in on the wounded enemy. “What are you doing here, mimic?”
“What are you doing here, mimic?” the creature repeated in a voice identical to Jaycent’s. It laughed mockingly until a fit of bloody coughs forced him to stop.
His Highness pulled the bowstring taut. “Give me answers and I'll make your passing swift.”
“You won't get any answers out of me, Prince of Nevaharday,” the creature stumbled closer. Jaycent stood still as a statue, his weapon never wavering. “Even if you did, it wouldn't matter. Nevaharday’s days are numbered.”
“Is this your effort to rile me?” Jaycent growled. “If so, it is in vain. I do not give way to fear.”
“Not now, you don't,” another slew of suffocating coughs threw the knobby-kneed creature onto all fours. He clutched one bony hand over his wounded chest while the other clung to the ground with rage. Waves of pain caused its pitiful frame to shake beneath ragged breaths. Its rat-like tale twitched when it realized its final moments were upon him. His oval eyes tapered into slits. “You haven't met true fear yet, Prince, but it will find you.”
A demonic grin curved like a crescent moon across his chin. Jaycent loosed an arrow that wiped the glee right off the monster's face. The mimic’s eyes crossed toward the tip imbedded in its forehead before it slumped lifeless to the ground.
A scowl swept Jaycent's features, and he slipped his bow back over his shoulder. Without a word, he took Melee's reins and led the pony and Levee through the woods.
“Prince?”
“Are you alright?” His tone was lower and rougher than she remembered. “Are you hurt at all?”
“I'm fine,” Levee assured him. “But how did you find me?”
His Highness tossed her a fleeting glance, and the peasant noticed a pair of dark circles hung like bruises beneath his hood.
“Your voice carries farther than you think,” he stated.
“Oh,” Levee mumbled.
“What are you doing out here?”
Levee knew that question would come. She fiddled with the leather strap in her hands. “I wanted to ask you the same thing.”
“It’s an inquiry I am at liberty to disregard, unlike yourself.”
“I… well, you see,” she stuttered.
“The truth,” Jaycent demanded.
“I
was already running in the first place. There was a scuffle in the city, and as I escaped I saw you fleeing, too. Part of me thought perhaps you might know something about Kotu, and why he tried to kill me.”
“Kill you?” The prince spun around, disbelief behind his pale blue eyes. He shook his head. “Kotu was after me, not you,” he explained, certain the girl was mistaken. “I stole away from the castle. He was pursuing in an effort to bring me back to the royal grounds.”
“Well, that explains why he was so angry when I accidentally cut him off,” Levee replied. “But it wouldn’t give him a fair reason to raise his sword against me.”
Jaycent stared hard at the gypsy, skeptical of such a wild claim. Yet the fear in Levee’s eyes was too lucid to be a lie. Her words combined with her trembling frame and troubled frown spoke of her earnestness.
“Why did you pursue me?” The prince asked. “Kotu is sworn to my service. If he tried to take your life, those orders could have come from me.”
Levee’s thin auburn brows knitted together. “You wouldn’t do such a thing.”
Jaycent paused, one ear cocked to the side. “What?”
Levee tugged at the creamy hairs at the base of Melee's neck. “You care about your people, Your Highness. Even the ones like me. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t show so much tolerance toward the gypsies. Besides, why would you save me from that mimic if you wanted me dead?”
Jaycent tugged back on Melee's reins and stepped in front of the pony. Her words moved him, but he couldn’t show it. Caressing the mare's crest, he said, “Levee Tensley, I fear I have been too lenient with you.”
Her voice quivered under Jaycent’s authoritative tone. “How so?”
“I am your prince. Much of what I do is not for your eyes to see, or your right to know. You broke multiple laws by pursuing me tonight; laws I shouldn’t ignore just because I know your intentions are benign.”
Levee bit her lip the way she often did when she knew that she was guilty. “I'm so sorry, Your Highness.”
Jaycent shook his head. His ire proposed to punish her, yet there was a bigger part of him that scorned the idea. Levee's audacity was the result of a naïve mind, not discourtesy.
How could he discipline someone who had only shown him kindness?
The prince warred against his newfound—dare he admit it?—fondness for the girl. Heavier things demanded his attention, and none of them allotted time for silly little feelings.
There were creatures on the prowl, and they moved dangerously close to his city and surrounding towns. Jaycent knew these malicious hunters had a master, though who it was remained a mystery.
Could it be that his dreams and this unforeseen enemy were linked together? Only Patchi could help him find the answers.
The prince’s ears drifted upward as a wild idea came to mind. He had come under cloak and in unassuming clothing, hoping the sentries at the toll wouldn’t recognize him. Yet he knew the odds were slim. Now a new ticket to Patchi had fallen into his hands. Levee was one of their people, even if she was several years removed from their lifestyle.
“You’ve committed offenses tonight I should not overlook,” playing toward Levee’s feelings, Jaycent reached out and took her hand. “But I will this once, if you agree to help me tonight.”
Levee's chin jerked up and her eyes widened with surprise. “What?”
“Perhaps it is Tennakawa’s will that you stumbled into my plans. I am out here looking for answers, but I need help finding them,” he tugged his hood farther over his face and continued their trek.
“Answers to what?”
“Many things,” came his vague reply. “But let us start with how you came across that mimic.”
“I think he was tracking you. The mimic tried to frighten me off by posing as a gypsy. It was only when he realized I wouldn't leave that he attacked.”
“It seems peculiar that he would pose as a gypsy,” Jaycent mused. He watched her, anticipating a reaction. “I wonder what the nomadic folk would think of that?”
“Outraged, I’m sure!” Levee exclaimed. When Jaycent stared at her, she didn’t turn away. “Until tonight, I didn’t even think such creatures existed.”
“Neither did I,” the prince walked with his dirk unsheathed. Every once and awhile he would twist the handle in his palm in a release of adrenaline. “If things were as they should be, you still wouldn’t.”
“This isn't the first monster I've seen,” she confessed.
Jaycent's ears shot back. “What else have you seen?”
Levee quietly spilled the details of Milo’s close encounter. “An ogre tried to attack our town a few weeks ago. Milo felled it before the creature could get close enough, but he paid for it with some heavy wounds.”
The dirk in Jaycent’s hand began to flip a little quicker. “Where?”
“Near Clover Lake, just on the outskirts of New Haven.”
The knowledge that these creatures had been wandering his land for weeks didn’t sit well with the prince. He quickened his pace, hoping the gypsy’s leader would know more about these unwelcomed visitors.
“This is bigger than a few stray monsters roaming out of the mountains, isn't it?” Levee dared to ask.
“I cannot say for sure.”
“But the mimic threatened you! He said Nevaharday’s days were numbered,” Levee shifted her weight toward Melee's haunches and the mare stopped on a dime, forcing the prince to halt with her. “Something bad is happening, isn’t it, Prince?”
His Highness shook his head. “I feel as though I should not answer that question.”
“Why?”
“Because if what you say is true, then we are all in danger.”
“What if I can help you?”
Finally, the offer Jaycent was looking for. “Can you speak the old tongue?” he asked.
The moonlight gave his pale blue eyes a silver hue that reminded Levee of Diego. Jaycent certainly had the unicorn's courage. But there was something else in that magnificent gaze that made her gnaw at the inside of her cheek.
“Aye,” she admitted. “I am fluent.”
“How well do you know your gypsy kin?”
“Not very well,” Levee confessed. “I don't venture into this territory anymore unless it's to buy goods for Milo and his family.”
Jaycent nodded, still holding confidence in his plan in spite of Levee’s humble response. The prince had little insight into the world of gypsies. As an outsider, the nomadic folk would remain wary in his presence, and they would likely deny him what he sought. But Levee’s heritage could be the connection he needed to meet with Patchi himself.
“Do they still accept you as their kin?” the prince asked.
“To an extent. My word doesn't carry any weight when it comes to gypsy affairs, but I am always welcome among them.” The trees began to dwindle and their feet fell upon a trail of tightly packed earth that stretched as far to the east as the eye could see. Wagon treads had worn two grooves in the path through excessive use and Levee, recognizing the trade route, had a feeling she knew where this was leading.
“Levee, you were required to take an oath when you were offered your apprenticeship. Do you recall what it was?”
“Of course. I swore to serve you through my gifts, my loyalty, and my service.”
“And you hold true to that oath?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Levee affirmed, and Jaycent could tell his doubt offended her.
Good, he thought. If his opinion mattered that much, then she was devoted.
“Seladay,” Jaycent summoned in a hushed voice. Diego emerged from the woods a couple feet ahead of them, ear pricked.
“Where are we going?” Levee asked.
“To see Patchi.”
“Are you sure that is wise?” Diego eyed Levee with clear disapproval. “This is a confidential meeting, after all.”
“I won't tell anybody if that's what you mean,” the gypsy insisted.
“I think our guest has already
seen too much for it to matter,” Jaycent gave Diego a quiet summary of the mimic and his dying threats, and the unicorn whickered gravely. “Besides, I have a task for her.”
Up ahead, four torches blotted out the night's muted hues. Between them two guards sat crouched in the middle of the road. When their eyes fell upon Jaycent and his company, they slowly rose to their feet.
Levee looked down at her prince. “What do you want me to do?”
Jaycent plucked her from Melee's back and set her on her feet. “Whatever it takes to get me a private meeting with Patchi.”
Levee raised her eyebrows. “You can't do that yourself?”
“Where have you been these last four years?” Jaycent shook his head. “I am the Prince of Nevaharday. The gypsies and I are not on the best of terms. Hence, we are going to test your own sense of diplomacy.” Hands on her shoulders, the prince urged her forward. “Go, speak with them. Make me so proud I forget the twenty laws you broke tonight.”
Levee walked toward the well-lit checkpoint. Both sentries were dressed in the peculiar garb attributed to Patchi’s closest followers. Multicolored kerchiefs were bound tightly over their foreheads. Their eyes were lined in black charcoal and each wore a maroon sash covered with gold and silver trinkets along with a pair of swords. The duo held their hands close to their belts as Levee stepped into the light.
“Teeyam, brothers,” she greeted.
“Peace to you, Sister,” the taller of the two replied using the common tongue. He nodded to the company behind her. “Who is it that follows you?”
“I bring the Prince of Nevaharday with me,” Levee did her best to speak on their terms. It felt strange though. Years had passed since she had lived as a gypsy, and even then her life had been different from that of the peculiar members of Patchi's most fervent disciples. “He wishes to speak with Patchi.”
Chuckles grew into laughter, and one of the guards had to hold his stomach in order to remain upright.
“I am serious,” she assured them.
When the shorter sentry finally spoke, his accent was thick, and she could tell his grasp on the common tongue was rough. “You think...” he replied between breaths, “that this 'prince' deserves such honor?”
The Rogue Trilogy Page 15