The Rogue Trilogy

by Elizabeth Carlton

  “True, you are not a rahee,” Rayhan agreed, his smile still firmly in place. “But lore states your people were born from the earth’s spirit; the same spirit that gifts you with magic and brings life to the forests and streams. My unicorn companion, Siabra, is an earth elemental. She shares that bond with you, and her equine nature connects us with her. So the way I see it, Lady Elessara,” he folded his hands above his plate, “whether we are elven, rahenyan, or equine, we are all connected in some way. Distant or not, we are related.”

  Elessara’s lips slid from their tight press, her defensiveness melting into shock. She stared at him speechless for several drawn out seconds while Rayhan stared back, his eyebrows lifted innocently. “Did I say something wrong, my lady?”

  “Not at all,” the king answered for her. He raised his glass once more to the captain who clinked his goblet in acceptance. “I see now why King Donovan spoke of you with such high esteem.” He looked pointedly at the historian, his sapphire eyes delivering a message Rayhan could guess well enough.

  Elessara stood, her face absent of color. “Please excuse me, Your Majesty.” She turned and walked toward the open archways, her sandals clicking across the wooden floor as her purple skirts dragged behind her. Rayhan’s ears drooped against his skull, his attention drifting back to the king.

  “Your Highness, I apologize—” Rayhan began.

  King Mekkai cut him short with a shake of his head. “No, Captain. The apology should be mine.” He waved for his guests to continue with their dinner. “As I said from the beginning, your task is a difficult one. Your father’s legacy casts a large shadow over my people. Have patience with Elessara. In fact, have patience with us all! Foul memories will not be forgotten overnight.”

  “Of course…” Rayhan agreed. It was all he could do.

  The rest of the meal was sober and quiet, the mirth of the evening lost. Terreen and Gwan spoke to the king about political matters Rayhan had little input on. He thought more about Elessara who had left so abruptly. Pip noted his repeated glances toward the courtyard and frowned.

  “Don’t do it, Cap,” he muttered.

  Rayhan’s ear flicked in the lieutenant’s direction. He looked at him briefly, but it was long enough for Pip to understand. The lieutenant dropped his spoon on his plate and plopped back against his chair with a sigh.

  “Your Majesty, with your permission I would like to step outside.” Rayhan nodded to the open courtyard where Elessara had departed.

  “Is something wrong?” the king frowned.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “What is it?”

  He motioned to where Elessara still stood, her silhouette visible from the table. “This is a dinner of formalities and safe conversations. I understand its purpose. However, all I can think about is how we sit before a great meal while a lady stands outside alone. I saw pain in her eyes when she left, good King, and I would like to speak with her if you would permit me.”

  Rayhan’s bold words had Terreen and Gwan stumbling over one another in apology, yet the king surprised everyone when he stood, his hand falling upon the captain’s shoulder. “Rayhan the Chivalrous, indeed,” he chuckled. “There are enough Nevahardan ambassadors present to fill my table tonight. Take Nadel and go.”

  Rayhan bowed again before walking away, his elven guard in tow. Outside the moon owned the sky, its bright light sinking into blushing red leaves. The captain’s eyes couldn’t help but stray toward them. The contrast, like blood on snow, stirred sorrow in his heart. His gaze drifted toward the elven maiden standing with her back to him. The captain walked toward her, hoping beyond his doubts that he could change this woman’s opinion of him.

  “Lady Elessara,” he called. The historian turned to face him and Nadel drew back a little to give the pair some privacy. “May I join you?”

  She stared at him for a moment before turning her back again. “You just did.”

  It wasn’t a cordial remark, but it amused the captain. He followed her attention to the stars peeking between the leaves, his long brown hair spilling over his shoulders like a thick mane. “You do not like me,” he stated.

  Elessara jerked her head toward the captain, shocked by his bold observation. He was smiling again which only seemed to aggravate her. “I do not know you.”

  “Then perhaps you understand why I am confused?” She watched him cross his arms over his chest, the unicorn branded into his gauntlets catching her eye. “You do not know me and yet you’ve already made up your mind about me. Why?”

  “Because fruit rarely falls far from its tree,” Elessara started to walk away and Rayhan’s words stopped her.

  “I am not who you think I am,” he said, his voice calm and patient.

  She looked at the captain from over her shoulder. “You have no idea who I think you are.”

  “I can guess easily enough. Our placement at dinner hints that King Mekkai has chosen us for the peace union. Your sour expressions tell me you find the thought of such a fate hard to swallow. After all, a creature who looks like Siren, sounds like Siren, and bears the general's surname must be like him as well. How am I doing thus far?”

  Elessara smirked. “Am I supposed to find your deduction impressive, Captain Mendeley?”

  Rayhan held his hands out innocently. “Not at all. I just thought saying it out loud would help illustrate how premature your judgments are.”

  “How dare you,” she scolded.

  “How dare I? No, my lady, how dare you! After all, I am not my sire. If anything, I probably hated him more than you do.”

  “That is a bold assumption considering your father's crimes.”

  Rayhan shrugged. “Assumption is all you will give me. I shall not claim to know what you have been through. Forgiveness may be too much to ask, but a chance at peace? I find it reasonable to believe our people deserve that. What do you think?”

  She turned and glared at him. “I have studied history long enough to know words alone are empty things. The deeds of war have consequences, Captain Mendeley. Dare you try to sweep them under the rug with your smooth tongue?”

  “I have always accepted the consequences of my actions,” he walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps.

  “Have you? Your appear to carry good intentions, but they can be a ruse. Especially when led by a motive, such as an arranged marriage.”

  “Aye, they can.” Rayhan's gentle fingers grasped her elbow and drew her to face him. “But will you close all doors in fear of opening the wrong ones?” He stepped in front of her as if she were a timid mare ready to spook. Elessara’s jaw quivered though she fought valiantly to hide it. The elf hugged her arms in a tight cross over her chest. “You do not look to me like a coward,” he stated softly.

  “Should I judge you by how you look?”

  The captain sighed. “Please, my lady. I am trying to understand you, but you give me little to go on.”

  Elessara walked around him to stray deeper into the pale trees and their rose-colored vines.

  “Where are you going?” he called after her.

  “To see what consequences you are willing to face,” the historian replied.

  Rayhan started at a swift walk, then a jog as he followed Elessara into the throng of trees. He slowed his steps as the willow-like vines grew thicker, her figure nearly lost behind curtain after curtain of red leaves. Here between the trees, the moon’s light was meager. He glanced at his elven guard plowing close behind and nearly stopped. Nadel’s scowl said this was not an excursion he signed up for, and if he was unsettled, the captain knew he should be too.

  “What is she up to?” he asked.

  Nadel shook his head. “I do not know.”

  Rayhan felt a nip of doubt inside his chest. Her cryptic invitation was enough to raise concern. Perhaps an older, wiser Rayhan would have left Lady Elessara alone. King Mekkai had told him to be patient. But Captain Mendeley still felt he had to prove his honor. Thus, he let the palace disappear behind him, his sen
ses on high alert.

  His hand drifted instinctually to his shoulder where the hilt of his sword typically rested, but all he caught was air. It was a rare occasion for the captain to walk unarmed. In an act of trust, he had placed his defense in the hands of his guard, though part of him wouldn’t be surprised if Nadel turned a blind eye to any of Rayhan’s attackers.

  “Lady Elessara?” he called, for he had lost sight of her now. The captain turned to his guard. “Where does this lead?”

  “Nowhere good,” Nadel’s eyes scanned the area. “This is a memory forest. A place where souls who cannot move on find solace.”

  Rayhan was about to turn back when he heard the sound of children whispering. Nadel stepped in front of the captain and unsheathed his blade, his free hand shoving Rayhan in the direction of the palace. “Go back.”

  The captain hesitated. “What is this about? Why do I hear children?”

  “You idiot,” the guard muttered. “Will you risk an alliance just to quell your curiosity?

  “Nadel,” it was Elessara’s voice. “Do not be so quick to send him away. They deserve to meet him, don’t you think?”

  “This is a place of comfort, Sara, not conflict.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Rayhan demanded to know.

  Elessara pulled back a sheet of vines and pressed her back against the colorless bark of a tree. The captain started forward when Nadel grabbed his arm. He looked at his guard, a silent command scribed across his face. He calmly but firmly pulled his arm away and the elf let go, allowing him to join Elessara by the tree.

  Below them was an open copse, the moon bathing its grass in a bright, pure light. A boy came into view, his long black hair pulled back to reveal the coldest scowl Rayhan had ever seen. Behind him, another boy even younger tagged along, his blue eyes wide with fear.

  A cool draft followed them, and when they crossed the shadow of an old tree’s limb, Rayhan realized their forms were only visible beneath the moonlight. Rayhan watched as children, women, and a few ragged soldiers gathered there, waiting, it seemed, for someone to meet them. A chill ran down the captain’s spine, for in the deep recesses of his memory came a hint of familiarity, though he couldn’t quite place it.

  “What is this about?” he whispered. Speaking loudly felt like an intrusion in this place.

  Elessara turned to him. “You said you want to prove yourself?” Her voice was cold. Her gaze was cold. “It starts here, Captain. These are the faces you and your father saw on the battlefield,” she motioned to the gathering standing patiently in the moonlight. “They are the ones you need to convince. Show them there is more to your name than your father has led us to believe.”

  Nadel stepped forward, his expression tight with anger.

  “What are they waiting for?” Rayhan asked.

  The guard frowned. “You, Captain.”

  Rayhan looked upon the gathering of spirits standing within the copse of trees. They stared back, their eyes accusing him of the sins that marred the battlefields. His boots felt like lead as he lifted them from the ground. The first step was strained, the second even harder. Still, the captain strode bravely forward. It was just like walking into Mekkai’s great hall.

  “Child Slayer,” hissed the soul of an elven woman.

  “Coward,” muttered another.

  A soldier with dark brown hair and half an arm shifted through the crowd to stand in Rayhan’s way. The captain came to a halt, giving the dead his full attention. “We know what Mendeley means,” the dead soldier’s voice was not combative, but mournful. “It means without honor.”

  “For one Mendeley, that is true,” Rayhan’s ears drifted back against his skull. “And for his deeds I am ashamed.”

  “Are you? Rayhan the Chivalrous we are told you are called. The ‘good’ Mendeley. However, you were on the battlefield the day I died. Do you remember?”

  It was cold in the company of ghosts. The more they closed in, the more Rayhan shivered. He shook his head, an ache creeping into his bones. “I saw many faces during the war, sirrah,” when he spoke, his breath slid like frost from his lips. They needed energy to manifest themselves, and he was their source. “But my guess is you’ll remind me.”

  “They will kill him,” the captain overheard Nadel argue.

  “They need closure,” Elessara countered.

  “And if he dies?”

  “He will not die,” she assured. “Not unless he deserves to.”

  “Stay focused, Rayhan Mendeley,” the soldier seemed to be the ringleader, and he didn’t like sharing the attention. He grabbed the rahee’s arm and stepped inside the captain’s body. Rayhan found himself thrown to the ground, his back sliding across the grass.

  The soldier’s death unfolded inside the captain's mind as he relived the memory. Jaspur flinched with him as they experienced it together— possession seemed to be the theme of the day.

  Rayhan and Jaspur saw flames set a camp ablaze. A bay stallion with Siren Mendeley on its back rode through, killing civilians and shouting orders. The soldier that possessed Rayhan charged Siren with his sword raised, but Siren was quicker. He butted his shield against the soldier’s face, throwing him back onto the ground. Rolling off his horse, the general came on like a torrent, his sword setting the young soldier on his heels. The elf was nimble, his defenses in time with Siren’s slices and jabs. Then the general feinted right, turned, and sliced the elf’s arm clean from his elbow.

  A cry of agony rose unbidden to the elf’s lips. There was a sharp whinny that drew Siren’s attention as a dun mare zipped across the field. The soldier rolled painfully to his stomach and reached for his sword only to feel the searing pain as Siren’s boot jammed into his bicep. “Finish it, boy!”

  Dying eyes watched Rayhan slide off the back of his mare and land onto his feet. The sing of his sword sliding from its sheath felt like a cold invitation. “Go,” Rayhan heard himself shout. “I will end this.”

  Rayhan held his breath as he watched his past unfold through another’s eyes. With a wicked grin, Siren traced the tip of his sword under the elf’s chin. “Take this moment to your grave, elf. Watch with your final moments how the Mendeley name will make history.”

  “Your legacy will be an honorless one,” he coughed. Siren responded by sinking his blade into the soldier’s kidney. The elf howled and clinched his one remaining hand in the grass.

  In the present reality, Rayhan mirrored the elf’s motions, crawling among the feet of his father’s ghosts. Nadel moved to help, but Elessara held him back. “Let him finish.”

  “If the rahee dies…” he hissed.

  “Just watch.”

  Inside the captain’s mind, the memory continued. He saw his own actions through the dying elf’s eyes. Rayhan deflected two soldiers' strikes simultaneously, shoving them back and slicing his longsword across the chest of one. Ducking a strike from behind, he spun around, blade leading. The second elf leapt nimbly back, and Rayhan charged forward. Their swords clashed once, twice, then their blades met in a deadly lock. Rayhan butted his head into the elf's nose, stunning him. The sword slipped from its press and with swift mercy, the captain thrust his blade through the elf’s heart. He then turned and scanned his surroundings, a crestfallen look stealing his fervor. Around him were not soldiers, but women and children; the survivors of a nearby town his father had conquered.

  “Siabra,” he called. Looking around and seeing the bodies, he roared, “Siabra, break this cursed ground!”

  A loud neigh shouted from across the battlefield. The elven soldier’s vision blurred as the earth trembled beneath him. Soldiers faltered on their feet. Rayhan grabbed the arm of a passing rahenyan soldier. “Gather your unit and join General Mendeley at the waylay point.”

  “But Captain…?”

  “But nothing. This is a massacre, not a battle,” he let him go. “We’re finished here.”

  Another tremor ripped a crack through the ground as Siabra galloped past them. The soldier
no longer held the desire to ask any more questions. He did as he was told, leaving Rayhan to clean up the mess.

  That’s when the captain came upon him. The dying soldier. He paused and knelt beside the fallen elf, rolling him onto his back. A moan escaped the elf’s lips, his face caked with mud and blood. Rayhan pulled a dagger from his belt. “I am sorry,” he shook his head, a frown on his lips. “This...” he looked around and sighed. “This is not the way of my people.”

  The elf opened his mouth, but words were beyond him now.

  “Tennakawa make your path smooth, sirrah,” Rayhan made his strike swift and true, letting the elf cross beyond the mortal curtains into the land of the dead. “May you find peace beyond the Veil.”

  Rayhan convulsed as the spirit left him, freeing him from the memory. He gasped for breath, his entire body cold as ice. The dead soldier looked down upon him. “There were children who made it out of that attack alive,” he said.

  “I kn-kn-know,” Rayhan shivered. He forced himself up upon stiff legs, and fell against a tree just to stay aloft.

  “You saved them,” he said, to which the spirits murmured in surprise.

  Rayhan hugged his arms tight against his chest to warm himself. “They s-sh-should have n-never suffered in the f-first place.”

  “You are right.” He wrapped his arm around a small child tucked behind his legs. “Look at the faces here, Mendeley. Look at the stories that will never be told because of your father’s choices.”

  Rayhan bowed his head. “I c-cannot change what he did.”

  “No,” said the elven soldier. “But your father was right. The Mendeley name will play a pivotal role in history. Whispers of the gods say one day your decision will determine the length of the Connor line. In that moment, you will have the opportunity to pay your father’s debt. Live honorably, and it will lead to your death. Yet you will have peace knowing you died for what is right, and the sins of the Mendeley name will be forgiven.”

  The captain lifted his head in shock. It wasn’t the idea of death that shook him. In a realm riddled with wars, a soldier like himself rarely lived to see old age. It was the price that surprised him. “You believe one life to be fit recompense for the countless he took?”