The blood of his father, who had spent his last moments chasing away the only two people he dared to love. The truth of his words, “Better for her to hate me and live than die for my doomed soul,” echoed painfully in Gavin’s mind. He lifted his head, enraged, and seized the hilt of his blade once more.
“You saved our lives,” the bitter taste of salt soaked the boy’s tongue as he licked the tears from his lips and sniffed. How he resembled a young Tennay then, his youthful face crinkled into a hateful scowl. “By my word, I will bring you peace.” His blade scraped across the ground as he rose onto shaking legs. Clinching the blade in his hand, he glared up through the dark alleyway toward the street above. “Your enemies will pay for this.”
With that thought in mind, Gavin set out to find the trio that ripped the youth from Tennay Rallargo’s son.
THE ENEMY INSIDE
When Tobi and Jaycent returned to the Waving Pine, the crowd had swelled beyond its limits. Boisterous voices filled the confines of its walls as stories of battle grew grander by the pint. Annoyance struck Jaycent when he nearly bumped into three drunken soldiers stumbling out the door with giggling harlots on their hips.
It took snaking their way through the crowd and stepping over and around several patrons, but eventually they made it up the stairs to their room. The prince rapped his knuckles upon the thin door, relaxing only when Levee opened it.
“How did it go?” she asked.
The duo slipped inside the room where Jaycent drew the window’s meager curtain and Tobi flipped the lock on the door. Concerned, Levee took a seat beside her mate on the edge of one of the threadbare beds while Tobi claimed a spot on the other. He nodded for the prince to speak and Jaycent quietly recounted their meeting with Tennay Rallargo.
“His revelations came with a stern warning,” Jaycent reminded. “The key to Shadow’s bane now sits within our grasp, but if his wounds are any testimony then attaining the blade will not be easy.”
“Aye. If Tennay’s enemies still linger within the city, our trek to the cathedral will draw unwanted attention,” agreed the re’shahna. He sat cross-legged on the bed, his bow and blade close at hand. “His tale leads me to believe this enemy wields a form of dark magic.”
Levee’s ears went back. “You think Shadow had something to do with this?”
“I think it unwise not to consider it,” Tobi replied.
Jaycent chewed on that thought. “You realize what this means?” Levee stared up at her mate, expecting him to explain.
The re’shahna knew. He ran a hand through the long strands of his mane and shook his head. “Connor Prince, if this is true, Shadow’s reach extends much farther than we thought.”
* * * * *
Jaycent felt it soon after they settled into bed. That strange, caressing sensation as he transcended from his tangible reality into a set of omnipotent eyes—disembodied and invisible—that could see past time and space.
The warmth of Levee’s head against his chest disappeared, along with the soft rhythm of her breaths as he cradled her in his arm. The prince tried not to fight it as his gift took him to a place he had no choice but to go. His nose forgot the smell of stale ale and thick soup, their scents replaced by the unmistakable aroma of burning wood and sweat-soaked leather. Chill chased away the warmth of his layered blankets and he could feel the subtle touch of swirling snowflakes falling all around him.
Gradually, his sight joined his other senses, welcoming his soul into a vision of Nevaharday’s rolling hills. The city’s walls rose up less than a mile at his back, and a familiar face stepped out of the open flaps of a large tent to his left. General Mendeley stared out over the landscape at the rahenyan soldiers spread across its ground.
“The first night of combat has ended,” said the lieutenant at his side, “with the enemy ranks retreating now that morning has broken.”
Jaycent watched Rayhan stand quietly with his arms crossed. He could tell his cousin was only half listening to the debriefing. The general’s mind had strayed, his brown eyes drifted toward the cluster of mountains where the white-capped peaks split the region.
“He’s thinking about the prince again,” Jaycent heard a nearby soldier whisper.
“How can he not?” an older soldier fitted a thick blanket over his steed’s back. “No one dares to talk about the prince’s disappearance, but we’re all thinkin’ about it. With only one soldier’s body recovered, he could still be out there and Arelee’s apprentice with him.”
“Diego returned,” the younger soldier reminded his comrade. He slid a sharpening stone across his blade, renewing its dulled edges. “I heard him tell the general the prince is alive.”
“But there’s doubt there. Can’t ya see it?” The older soldier took the bit from his stallion’s mouth and patted his neck as the beast lowered his head to nibble on the few stiff blades of grass poking through the snow. “Every time he stares out at the battlefield, his grief shows through a little more.”
Jaycent, having grown stronger in his control of these visions, managed to direct his senses back to the camp where a lieutenant stared at Rayhan’s distant expression with deep concern.
“General?” the lieutenant tapped Rayhan’s shoulder, shaking him from his inner thoughts.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” he rubbed his forehead. “Can you repeat what you just said?”
“The mimics weren’t able to break through our shield ranks like they hoped. Skalabur and his herd spearheaded their attack and diverted most of the night mares. That left us with the mimics whose flimsy weapons held little effect against our reinforced armor. As a result our casualties have been minimal with only four losses and eighteen wounded in last night’s battle.”
“Four too many if you ask me,” a new voice interjected.
Jaycent’s heart rate leapt at the sound of Kotu’s call, and Rayhan and the lieutenant seemed no less surprised than the prince. They gawked at the battered soldier limping toward their camp with the help of two comrades.
“Kotu,” General Mendeley strode over to meet the returning soldier. “What news do you bring?”
“Oh, I’m doing fine. Just a fractured leg and a few tormenting months of being held prisoner in a mimic’s camp. Thanks for asking, though,” Kotu wiped the mud from his face and tossed it on the ground with an air of repugnance. “Do you know how hard it is to sneak through enemy ranks using one good leg?”
“What news do you have of the prince, soldier?” the general asked again in a tone that reminded Kotu of Rayhan Mendeley’s low tolerance for sarcasm.
“You mean he isn’t here?” the soldier blanched. “We were separated during an ambush. If he hasn’t returned…” Kotu’s shoulders drooped, and the general appeared to be falling for the act.
“You betraying dog,” Jaycent growled. But he was an observer on this plane and nothing more. None in the camp could hear him. That is, none except…
Diego emerged from the general’s tent, his ears pressed back.
“He is alive,” the great unicorn’s voice rumbled.
“You have seen him?” Kotu feigned hope.
“I do not have to,” the unicorn snorted in the soldier’s face, spraying his blonde hair with flecks of warm snot. Kotu scrunched his nose. “He is my companion. If he were dead, I would feel it.”
“I pray you are right,” Kotu’s sad eyes appeased Jaycent’s empathetic cousin. Rayhan nodded his agreement, sending another wave of anger through Jaycent’s heart.
“What took place that evening?” Rayhan requested, kinder this time. His eyes flicked to a nearby cluster of bedrolls where a handful of Skalabur’s herd were walking among the wounded and lending their magic to the healers. “Tell me what happened during the ambush, and how you became separated from His Highness.”
“It is hard to say,” suddenly Kotu seemed very weary as he stared down at the ground with a pained expression. “They came at us so suddenly, with so many.”
“Who?” the general dem
anded.
“The mimics.”
“Just mimics?”
“That I saw, yes.”
“Liar,” Diego interjected, drawing looks of shock from nearby soldiers.
“How dare you call me that,” Kotu spat. The two flicked back their ears as an unspoken challenge exchanged between them. “I have been a part of the cavalry for years, and have devoted my life to Nevaharday! This is my home, my people, my family!” The soldiers that had helped carry Kotu to the general’s camp now held him back as he lunged toward the stalwart stallion. “You out of all of us should have stood by His Highness’s side. Where were you when he needed you, huh? Where were you when we needed you?”
“Calm yourself, Kotu,” the general ordered. He tossed the unicorn a warning look before returning his attention to the distressed soldier. “No one is accusing anyone of anything here. However, Diego has seen the prince since your last encounter and his story tells a different tale.”
Kotu’s expression didn’t change, though Jaycent and Diego both caught a subtle quiver in his jaw as the rahee held his breath. “I tell you only what I saw with my own two eyes,” the soldier assured them. “And I saw mimics, only mimics, come at us from within the trees four miles outside of Nevaharday’s gates.
“Half of them charged in upon horses, and the mistress’s apprentice, a gypsy witch, stopped the herd before it trampled us. It was during the chaos that followed that I was injured and taken captive, losing sight of His Highness and the girl. I know no more than that.”
“We saw this place where you swear the ambush took place,” Diego said with a stomp of a hoof, his baritone voice attracting more ears to the heated discussion. “They found another from your unit, a yearling of a soldier, skewered in a manner no sword or spear could ever manage.”
Kotu snarled. “Then perhaps you should interrogate your own kind,” he shook himself free of the two soldiers standing behind him. “Are we done here? I would like to join my comrades, if it is alright with you. Unless you intend to throw me in a cell for crimes I cannot possibly pull off?”
“Go,” the general bid. “See the healers and have something done about that leg of yours. Then you may return to the barracks within Nevaharday’s walls.”
“I’m forbidden to fight?” Kotu argued indignantly.
“You have done enough of that already,” Rayhan warned.
Jaycent floated past his cousin and Diego, whose ears suddenly went up. The unicorn sniffed the air as the prince swirled by, blown like a breeze that followed Kotu’s limping march. Jaycent’s heart plummeted when he saw the smile hidden behind Kotu’s simmering temper. The two soldiers flanking him stared at the outspoken soldier with apprehension.
“What word should we give the others, Kotu?” one of his comrades whispered.
Kotu looped an arm around the young soldier and smirked. “Tell them to keep their eyes trained north. When the three-horned stallion makes his charge, we will turn upon our gypsy ‘allies’ and be rid of them once and for all.”
The opposite soldier grinned. “And those nomads dare to say our deity no longer smiles upon us.”
“Who cares what they think?” Kotu looked to the peak where Shadow directed the pawns of fate. Jaycent flinched at his next words. “By the end of this little war, there will be no gypsies left to argue with us.”
Hikshu’s Cathedral
Jaycent, Levee, and Tobi rose before the sun. All was still inside the Waving Pine with most of its inhabitants still lost in sleep’s embrace. Only a bleary-eyed maid occupied the main room. She held a disgruntled hand out as the prince dropped their room key into her palm. With a smirk, the prince turned and joined his companions by the door.
“I spoke to the barmaid while you and Levee were packing,” Tobi drew his cowl over his face, its gray fur lining brushing the tip of his nose.
“You spoke with her?” the prince glanced back at the irritable woman behind the counter. “Your heart is more stout than mine, my friend.”
A grin cracked through Tobi’s serious visage. “She said Hikshu’s cathedral is an uphill trek through the marketplace, and down a northwest road referred to as ‘the gardens’.”
“Let us head out then,” Jaycent pushed open the tavern door and tucked his own cloak a little tighter as winter bit its cold teeth into his skin. Where the Waving Pine was silent, the market streets were wide awake as vendors showcased their goods to the light crowd browsing the carts and booths.
The trio took their time, spending a modest sum just to fill their packs with dried foods for the road ahead. Every once and awhile, Jaycent and Levee would feign interest in the less practical goods artisans waved in their direction while Tobi kept a subtle vigil.
But nothing seemed out of sorts, so the trio continued on, scaling an inclined road toward the high turrets of Brennensdale’s famed cathedral. The tightly knit buildings receded behind them as the trio followed the northwest road and soon enough a high archway foiled in gold came into view. The companions strolled inside its gates and entered into a large religious haven unlike any the prince had ever seen.
All around them, statues stood out against the snow, their silent poses depicting pivotal moments from the cathedral’s extensive lore. Many rahee and re’shahna were seen among those sculptures, revealing their intimate roles within Brennensdale’s history.
Jaycent stared at the stone-faced replicas of his ancestors, their expressions frozen in scenes from the past. He knew none of their names, though he felt like he should.
“Do you recognize these statues, Tobi?” he whispered to his companion.
The re’shahna paused and looked at the prince, his face masked by the fabric of his cowl. “Old tales, they tell,” he responded in a softened tone that seemed appropriate among holy grounds. “Back when our kind had many tribes. All are great leaders among the rahee and re’shahna who allied with Brennensdale’s original settlement. That alliance led to the creation of Bresan T’ahnya, The City of Ancients, where all tribes could come together as one to discuss great matters.”
“Jayce, look,” Levee walked swiftly up a small set of steps to one particular statue seated upon a bench beside the cathedral’s entrance. A sheath rested over the lean re’shahna’s thighs, his elbows on his knees as he looked into the eyes of a full-sized stallion carved in front of him.
There was no plaque to reveal the immortalized re’shahna’s identity. No sign explained the work at all. But Jaycent knew immediately who it was as he descended onto the seat beside the inanimate sculpture.
His hair was long and thick, the sides shaved to match Tobi’s exotic style. However, there was no mistaking the rest. Angular cheeks were set below a pair of narrow eyes etched with solemn clarity. The statue did not smile, nor did he frown, as he and the horse seemed to share some unspoken agreement.
“Connor Clovenhoof,” Jaycent rubbed his scruffy face, one of few defining differences between himself and the statue sitting beside him.
“By Hikshu’s beard!”
Jaycent looked up to see a monk, his wool hood shed to expose a face sagging in utter disbelief. He nearly stumbled over the long trim of his plain robes as he trotted down the steps, hands extended as if he was going to grab Jaycent’s face and kiss it.
The prince sat up straight when the monk poised his open palms in front of the rahee’s face, as if he revering it. “Could it be the saint has returned to us?”
Jaycent lifted his chin. “Touch me with those hands, monk, and I shall show you just how far from a saint I am.”
The monk retracted his hands and wiped them on his ropes. “Ah, yes. I do apologize. But you must understand just how uncanny this is. You are the spitting image of Connor himself.”
“Not so uncanny—” the prince halted mid-sentence as he considered the stone likeness. “You are familiar with Connor Clovenhoof?”
“But of course,” the monk proclaimed. “He was a prophet of the goddess Tennakawa, and a fine warrior. He spent many years visi
ting us off and on here at Hikshu’s cathedral, learning our ways and teaching us his own.” The monk looked the prince up and down, marveling at the similarities. “Are you, by chance, a descendant of Connor?”
“Aye,” agreed the prince. “His journal led me here. We search for a place called the Hall of the Dead. Can you help us find it?”
The monk grew very somber. “Many equine folk have traveled here with the same intentions young…” the monk raised his hairless eyebrows, expecting a name.
“Jaspur,” Jaycent introduced. “Jaspur Clovenhoof.”
Hikshu’s servant brightened at the sound of Connor’s last name coming from a living being. He bowed respectfully before the re’shahna’s kin. “Well Jaspur, like I said, you are not the first to inquire about the necropolis. It’s attracted quite a bit of attention, especially lately.”
Tobi and Jaycent exchanged a glance, and Levee was the first to start asking questions. “What are they looking for, good monk?”
“Ah, but isn’t that a fine question?” Their bald acquaintance wagged an intrigued finger in the air. “I suspect they aren’t even sure.”
Levee turned to her mate. “What do you make of that?” she whispered in the old tongue.
“We seem to be behind when we need to be ahead,” Jaycent whispered back.
Tobi placed a hand on the monk’s shoulder. “You will show us these doors?”
The monk nodded his consent. “It was Saint Connor’s magic that sealed these halls. It only seems right that his kin would be the one to open them again,” the bald monk tucked his hands into his billowing sleeves and began his reverent walk to the large open doors of the cathedral. “You and your friends may follow me, Master Clovenhoof.”
The trio fell in single file behind their guide as they entered Hikshu’s palatial dwelling. The doors were foiled in gold along with many of the designs painted onto the columns and trim.
The Rogue Trilogy Page 34