The Rogue Trilogy

by Elizabeth Carlton

  Unable to ignore it any longer, the soldier broke rank and galloped ahead to report his find. “Permission to speak, Captain.”

  “Depends, soldier. Is it worth the consequence of breaking rank?” the man asked, his voice muffled beneath an ornate helmet.

  Gavin flinched at the thought of hand washing every stall in the cavalry stable, but it wasn’t enough to make him turn back. “I have reason to believe we’re being followed.”

  Gavin’s blunt statement straightened old Toglehoff in his seat. He considered Gavin’s message, his attitude sobered by the young soldier’s certainty. “What do your ears tell you, Rallargo?”

  “Bipedal footsteps. Not many from what I can tell. Three, maybe. Four at the most.”

  The captain frowned. “Take two soldiers and investigate the source. If they are mimics, I want them disposed of immediately. Anyone else should be brought back alive and fit for interrogation.”

  “With all due respect, Captain, I believe it would be best if I seek them out alone.”

  “What boldness is this?” Toglehoff asked, incredulous. “You may be budding into a fine soldier, boy, but do not think yourself a hero.”

  “No sir!” Rallargo assured. “I just don’t think we are dealing with that sort of pursuer. I caught sound of these followers soon after we passed the haunted ridge.” He pointed to the peak that marked the border of re’shahna territory. “The re’shahna would not tolerate mimics either, and so I assume we’ve picked up a few tribal sentries curious of our intentions.

  “It’s no secret that they are suspicious of humans, and I fear they would attack if they felt threatened. But if I go alone and they see my rahenyan heritage, they may be inclined to speak peaceably with me. If that is the case, let me explain to them our mission and how we are simply passing through. Perhaps, we can prevent trouble before it starts.”

  The captain considered the proposition. “And if they’re not re’shahna? What then? Can you handle this assignment alone, soldier?”

  “Aye sir,” the half-blood replied. “Leave the task to me. One way or another, I will see our tail is dealt with.”

  * * * * *

  Hours passed and the night grew long, but if the human army felt a touch of fatigue, they didn’t show it. The Legion kept a steady pace that Jaycent followed with equal fervor, his companions in silent tow.

  Thick tracks made it easy for the trio to follow from a distance, and Jaycent thought for certain their journey would be straight forward from this point. But that certainty wavered when the amber rays of morning ascended onto a passive blue skyline.

  Answers didn’t reveal themselves under the light of a new dawn. Instead, the morning illuminated a narrow gorge, its vastness mocking the success of their search.

  Jaycent paused to observe the twin layered walls split down the middle by a river half frozen under patches of cloudy ice. The few rebellious licks of water unscathed by winter’s touch trickled quietly over the rocky shoals.

  On the far shore, the Legion’s tracks reminded them of the path ahead. But were they supposed to keep following the “cold steel cadence” or did sunrise serve as a signal that they had reached their destination? This time there were no signs or cryptic lines to guide them.

  Weary and uncertain, the prince paused at the river’s edge and dropped his pack, allowing his party to rest. In his mind, however, Jaycent did not relax. Doubt had begun to leak into his confidence.

  He inhaled the crisp winter air, mulling over his indecision. Connor Clovenhoof’s riddle said nothing of how long their pursuit would last. Only that the night’s ringing cadence would lead them to a hall claimed by the dead.

  “So then where is it, Connor?” Jaycent whispered, his rhetorical question swirling into a puffy cloud before his lips. “Where do we go from here?”

  He didn’t raise the question expecting an answer, but when smoke rose above the nearby evergreens, the prince began to wonder if the dead had ears.

  “Tobi,” he called. The re’shahna pushed himself off of a large boulder he’d found near the river’s edge and walked his weary legs to the prince’s side without complaint. Jaycent offered a sympathetic smile, knowing the old re’shahna was exhausted. But so was he, and so was Levee, who already looked like she’d fallen asleep against a tree a few yards away.

  Jaycent pointed to the plume of smoke rising from a spot just around the river’s bend. “What do you make of that?”

  The old re’shahna glanced in the direction Jaycent had indicated before looking at him again. “T’is a campfire.”

  “Yes, but what do you make of it, Tobi?” The prince repeated, his hand stroking the scruff on his chin.

  Tobi swept his forelock back and squinted against the bright white snow as he tried to figure out what the rahee was getting at. It took several moments, but eventually it struck him.

  Jaycent wasn’t referring to something tangible. Rather, he was describing a feeling. Tobi rested an elbow against the pensive rahee’s shoulder, intrigued by his companion’s sudden attentiveness to such things. “I think what matters is what you make of it, Connor Prince.”

  Something about that smoke beckoned Jaycent. “I want to take a closer look,” he said. “Perhaps it is nothing, but then again, perhaps it is more than that. I would rather not leave any stone unturned.”

  Tobi suppressed a chuckle. Jaycent may not have spoken from the heart, but he was beginning to listen to it. And that, the re’shahna believed, was a good sign.

  * * * * *

  Gavin stacked more wood upon the fire. He had made camp at the edge of the water half a mile past the river’s bend. All night he had watched the travelers, mostly from the clefts and rises high above their pursuit. By all accounts of the re’shahna’s reclusive nature, the peculiar party should have turned away at the edge of their territory. But they hadn’t, leading Gavin to believe something strange was afoot.

  Brennensdale held no grudges against the re’shahna. In fact, the monks of Hikshu revered them as demigods; sons and daughters of their unicorn-adoring deity.

  Like his father, Gavin held no loyalty to any god or goddess and thought the monks’ fanaticism to be more than a little absurd. Still, he was intrigued to learn more about his race’s elusive cousins, so he staked his camp in a place where the trio was sure to pass, and waited.

  Hours later, they appeared from around the river bend, walking the shore openly and casually with their eyes upon Gavin’s camp. The soldier rose to his feet and tried to keep his head high when the trio’s leader drew closer, his figure towering nearly a foot above Gavin’s 5’6 stature. He brandished no weapons Gavin could see, and his face was absent of the markings common among re’shahna. However, his garb matched the tanned animal skin fabric used among the tribe, so he didn’t ask questions.

  On the leader’s left strode a young woman, her face hidden beneath a fur-lined cowl, and on his right flank followed another male clearly distinguished by his two-toned mane and dark blaze across his forehead.

  “Ho there, re’shahna!” the soldier greeted with a friendly tone. “You’re quite far from home. Who are you, and what brings you to Brennensdale’s borders?”

  “My name is Jaspur,” their leader called back. “I walk with my mate, Levee, and our companion, Tobiano. As for our business, it remains a private matter and of no real importance to your city or its Legion. Though perhaps you could be of help to us.”

  Gavin remained skeptical when he heard the stranger’s perfect speech. The re’shahna’s reclusive nature had made their grasp of the common tongue awkward at best.

  Despite his native clothing and tall stature, the soldier was beginning to think the trio’s leader was a rahee, though he’d never heard of the two races mingling before. “I fear I cannot let you pass, brothers. Not until I have a better understanding of what your business entails.”

  “Brothers?” Levee shed her hood, her green eyes narrowed. She stepped forward to address the soldier. “Never have I seen a grown
rahee or re’shahna with such tiny ears. What are you?”

  “My name is Gavin Rallargo,” the soldier self-consciously swept his hair forward to cover his small, almost catlike, ears. “I am a soldier in the Dale Legion, and what my city calls a half-blood.”

  “Halved between what?” Levee grabbed the stranger’s chin, inspecting his features and heightening the tension between them.

  Gavin stiffened. “My father is a rahenyan refugee and my mother is a human.”

  “Refugee?” Levee pulled her hand away and cocked her head suspiciously.

  “Your words, they baffle us, Gavin Rallargo,” Tobi spoke slowly, revealing the poor use of common speech Gavin had expected from his tribe. “From where would a rahee need to flee?”

  “From the only northern city they have,” the soldier answered. “Nevaharday.”

  “Hogwash,” Levee blurted. Jaycent placed a calming hand on her shoulder. It was clear by the boy’s expression that he believed his story. What the prince truly wanted to know was who told it, and why?

  “It is the truth,” Gavin insisted. “You can ask my father. Tennay Rallargo is his name. He was a soldier in Nevaharday’s army until he left for Brennensdale a little over seventeen years ago.”

  “For what reason?” Jaycent asked.

  “A rumor circulated within his old unit of an infallible plan formed by the gypsies to kill the royal family and overtake the city. The details were fairly convincing, or so I’m told. Within six months, over two hundred rahee packed their things and left.”

  “I was only a boy then, but I remember that,” Jaycent muttered. To Gavin, he said, “I, too, had family in the Royal Guard, and none of them were told the details of this rumor. Not even the General knew of it. He spent months sending undercover soldiers into the city to investigate why so many were leaving that season, naught to return.”

  Gavin’s slender ears dipped beneath his short hair. “That’s strange,” the boy shook his head. “But whoever started the rumor was right. We heard about the tragic murder of the king and queen two years ago. When the gypsies started taxing Nevahardans soon after, we knew they were the culprits. Ever since then, those nomads have been infiltrating the city and bullying our people into fear and submission. Even Nevaharday’s steward and prince won’t stand up to them anymore.”

  Levee’s muscles tighten. She took a steadying breath and swallowed her words, but it was clear by the way Gavin’s horse shifted uncomfortably that her feelings hadn’t gone unnoticed. Jaycent wrapped a comforting arm around his mate’s shoulders. “The tale of the king and queen’s death is well known to us,” Jaycent’s tone was grim. “But not like that.”

  “I am not surprised. That is how they do things. The gypsies, I mean,” Gavin replied, mistaking Jaycent’s short response for grief. “They are sneaky and manipulative.”

  “And just how many gypsies have you met, Gavin Rallargo of Brennensdale?” Jaycent scolded.

  “None,” the young soldier replied. “But would you doubt the word of a Nevahardan soldier?”

  “I am a Nevahardan soldier.” Suddenly Gavin felt like a child before Jaycent, his very tone demanding respect and authority the boy didn’t dare deny him. “And these days I would not trust my fellow soldiers any more than a mimic’s promise.

  “You are just a yearling, and there is much about Nevaharday you do not know. Yes, Nevaharday stands in great peril, but our enemies are not who you suspect.

  “Our quest is to find an old tool to help them in their plight. If you care to aid us, say so. But if not, I have wasted too much time listening to you babble about a terror you do not comprehend.”

  Gavin’s confidence dissipated. “My apologies, Jaspur. Know my first allegiance is to Brennensdale,” he confessed. “But so long as your quest bodes no ill will toward my home, I will offer you whatever assistance I can.”

  The prince nodded his acceptance. “We search for an artifact last seen in a location described as the ‘hall of the dead’. Have you any idea where that would be?”

  Gavin face became ashen. “I have, though nothing good ever becomes of those who seek it.”

  “Please,” Levee begged. “For the sake of Nevaharday, we must find it.”

  Gavin contemplated that for quite some time before he gave into a reluctant nod. “I will escort you to Brennensdale where you may speak with my father,” the soldier offered. “Tennay would know more about the hall than I could ever tell you.”

  Jaycent extended his hand and the two shared a firm shake. “You have our thanks,” Jaspur smiled, “brother.”

  * * * * *

  By early evening the walls of the gorge had fallen away, opening wide into a valley that made Bresan T’ahnya look like a small village. No more than a mile east of the gorge sat Brennensdale, built like a fortress. Slanted metal bars spiked from the edge of the city’s wall walk, their sharpened tips warning visitors not to challenge the city carved within the natural curve of stone.

  The foursome followed the main road that cut across the valley floor into the city where they wound through crowded streets. They passed through sections both rich and poor before settling on a discreet tavern nestled between a general goods shop and a local smithy.

  “You can stay here at the Waving Pine,” Gavin motioned toward the tavern door. “The rooms are a fair price. Relax for a while or, if you’re restless, you can tour the city. As for me, I must return my mare and check in with my superior before we go anywhere else. I will return here within an hour to take you to my father.”

  Jaycent nodded. “We will be here when you return.”

  “I won’t be long,” the lone soldier took his mare and disappeared into the crowd. Jaycent readjusted the pack on his back and turned to face the tavern. He had stepped through doors just like this one countless times, looking for a cold ale and the chance to pretend he was part of a crowd. This time, though, there were none to recognize him, and he stepped into the establishment with his cowl pulled back.

  “Greetings, horse folk,” said the man behind the counter. A burly fellow at the edge of the bar looked at them with a shrewd eye, and Jaycent assumed he was the tavern’s hired muscle. “If you’re lookin’ for a warm meal, fair mead or a bed t’ lay your head, the Waving Pine is the finest establishment on this side of Brennensdale.”

  “All three are to our liking,” Jaycent responded kindly as slid up to the long counter. Tobi and Levee sat down beside him and the old tavern keeper perched his thick arms on the bar, revealing several scars. Either he was a poor fighter or he’d seen his share of tough brawls.

  Jaycent guessed it to be the latter. This man held the “no nonsense” attitude of someone who didn’t lose often.

  “We haven’t any single bedrooms open, but there are two double bed accommodations vacant upstairs,” the barkeep said.

  “One double room will suit us just fine.”

  Tobi tossed a curious glance toward Jaycent, but otherwise said nothing about the unusual arrangement. “While we are at it, add three warm meals and an ale for each of us.”

  “Twenty copper pieces will have it done,” said the barkeep. Jaycent dug a silver coin from the pouch on his hip and accepted a key and some change in return. “Your room is on the second floor, third door to the right.”

  “You have our thanks,” the prince replied.

  The man nodded and set a barmaid to fixing their meals, his eyes lingering curiously on Tobi’s wild mane and markings. The re’shahna cocked a dark black eyebrow in humorless silence, and the barkeep quickly tore his eyes away and went about serving another customer.

  Jaycent’s ears tilted toward the nearby a minstrel who plucked a mellow tune from a lute as he warmed his vocals for the coming crowd. Within the hour the place would be packed, his talent muffled by the bustle and conversations of drinking patrons. If Jaycent wanted information from the barkeep, he’d have to get it now.

  “I suspect you’ll have a house full of soldiers come nightfall,” he remarked to the
man a few feet down the counter. The barkeep slid him a drink and Jaycent sipped at its foam.

  “That’s one bet you can count on,” he passed two other mugs to Levee and Tobi and wiped his hands clean before sitting on a stool behind the bar. “They’ve been chasing mimics all over the mountains trying to stuff ‘em back in their holes. I don’t know what’s been driving the stinkers up, but it seems our soldiers finally gave ‘em a change of heart. Took the Legion a good six months to do it.”

  Tobi took a long gulp of his drink while Levee focused her attention on the barkeep. “Just mimics?” she wondered.

  “Nah, there were other nasties. The worst of ‘em being unicorns of a dark and devilish nature,” he answered. “You folks really aren’t from around here, are you?”

  Jaycent gave a disarming grin. “What gave it away?”

  “Well you aren’t the first horse folk to wander into Brennensdale,” the man crossed his arms. “Rahee have settled by the dozen here over the last decade or so. Nine of ‘em take to that corner table back there every evening,” he pointed to a pair of round tables tucked under a frosty window. “They usually order a few gallons of ale and play cards. Nice enough bunch, though they prefer to keep to themselves.”

  Jaycent thanked the barmaid as she slid hot bowls of stew in front of the trio. They savored their first warm meal in over a day, letting the broth warm their chilled bodies. Around them, seats filled one by one.

  Patrons squeezed together to make room for others, and soon a haze of pipe weed began to form like a cloud overhead. Levee finished off her meal and pushed the bowl aside, feeling claustrophobic amidst the sea of bodies. “I think I’m going to retire early. Can you can handle tonight’s meeting without me?”

  “Aye. One of us ought to get a good night’s rest anyway,” Jaycent rose from his seat. “Shall I escort you?”

  Levee rolled her eyes. “I think I can make it up the stairs just fine on my own. Stay and wait for Gavin. It is probably better I remain behind anyway. You wouldn’t want them to discover a gypsy conspirator among you,” she grinned.