The Rogue Trilogy

by Elizabeth Carlton

  “You’re right. I know my enemy quite well.” Levee turned her attention back to the window, her tone deceptively innocent. “But do you know yours?”

  * * * * *

  Sadikaye followed his pa through the rain. His father moved with the gait of a man who would die before he yielded, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Men, rahee, dwarves, and elves gave him a wide berth, allowing Milo and Sadikaye to pass by uninterrupted, even in the narrow streets owned by the guilds. Sadikaye drew close to Milo as they passed by three men in dark hoods, their gazes trailing the pair down the narrow walkway between two dark buildings. Sadikaye held his breath, his ears twitching at every little sound, but no one followed them.

  Milo skipped over a low wall into the section where the cargo port held its warehouses, the metal on his scabbard tapping with a light thwap against his leg as he strode with his broken gait through the maze of crates and buildings. Sadikaye held his staff tight against his side as they went, his courage bolstered by its presence.

  “For Ma,” he whispered to himself, right before he jumped at the sight of his own shadow when they passed under a dim lantern creaking in a lazy sway.

  A hand found his back as Milo guided him toward a door on their right.

  “For your Ma,” he nodded to the entrance. Sadikaye nodded back, and they entered the warehouse together.

  Inside were a host of tables and chairs. A bar made from stolen wine crates sat nestled in the corner. Behind it, a gypsy with a rag tucked in his belt laughed loudly with another as he handed him a mug. In the corner, a minstrel with dark Sarrokian features played a flute while two women danced jubilantly on a table top. They stopped when a hush claimed the large room, and all eyes turned to the door.

  Hands went toward hidden blades while others dealt cold stares at the two unfamiliar faces. This was a place for gypsies, not outsiders. Despite Levee’s reputation, Milo and Sadikaye were not part of the their circle. Few knew them outside of Bry’s particular followers. Luckily, he was there.

  The re’shahna with the shaved head stood, his countenance grim as he guessed quite accurately the reason for Sadikaye and Milo’s arrival.

  “Where is she?” Bry walked toward the door, his hand pausing on a few shoulders to assure them this sea dog and his son were welcome.

  “Taken by the enemy,” Milo was so tense, the veins in his neck and arms stood out. “The nobleman with the hart worked for Shadow. He kidnapped Melah and is dragging her to Velagray as we speak.”

  Bry flung his vest over his bare chest and pulled the kerchief around his neck over his head. He then waved to a long table in the corner where over a dozen hard-looking gypsies in leather clad armor sat hunched over their drinks.

  All at once they stood and dipped their hands in small pouches on their belt. Inside was a powdered substance which they used to draw masks beneath their eyes. It was a ritual northern gypsies used to signify a blood hunt.

  “Our horses are held in the back of the warehouse,” Bry said. “Both of you may pick a mount and join us out front.”

  Milo nodded and he and his son headed in that direction as the rest of the tavern settled down.

  “They’re going to help us?” Sadikaye couldn’t believe it.

  “Aye,” Milo confirmed. “They owe your mother that much.”

  Hints of MadnesS

  Rayhan sat in a hard chair; one of many tucked against a long table in a private room on the highest floor of King Mekkai's palace. He studied the bodies filling all twenty seats, their stern eyes paired with hard frowns as arguments volleyed back and forth. Two-and-a-half hours had passed since the meeting had been called into session, and they had made no progress whatsoever.

  Questions rose by the dozen after King Mekkai announced Nevaharday's offer in exchange for peace and better relations. He hadn’t brought up the specifics regarding the marital union, for the table had yet to agree on whether or not they would accept King Donovan’s offer. Whitewood's Council seemed intrigued by the possibility of trading land for Nevahardan horses, but they were waiting for a motive. One that didn't exist.

  “We simply want our sacred lands returned,” the strain in Terreen’s voice drew Rayhan back into the discussion.

  Gwan nodded his agreement. “Our king is extending you a generous offer. Surely, the wisdom of the elves can see this for the grand opportunity it is?”

  Loran, the swordmaster Rayhan had met the night before, sighed. “Unfortunately, the wisdom of the elves also sees how this trade leaves us open to betrayal. The land you want returned is home to a mighty herd. Should the rahee once again decide that war is preferable to peace, Whitewood would be hard pressed to defend itself against your unicorn friends that dwell there.”

  Pip groaned. “Oh, let it go already! Our people are still reeling from the last war. We do not want to engage in another one.”

  “My lieutenant is right,” Rayhan put in. “We doom our children with our stubbornness and skepticism. I came here on behalf of King Donovan for peace and I am willing to give my hand for it. That alone should speak of our dedication to this effort.”

  General Redwood gave an abrasive laugh. “Noble as your reputation may seem, Captain, at the end of the day you are still a Mendeley. No elf would sully their name by accepting that offer, which makes it worth nothing at all.”

  “I will,” Elessara stated from her place on her father's right. The room went silent. “We are here to negotiate peace, not to make up reasons to avoid it. There are a thousand possibilities we can fathom, but every one of us knows that making progress will mean taking risks. I say we should accept King Donovan’s offer and see where it goes.”

  General Redwood's fist struck the table so loud, half the present company jumped in their seats. “Absolutely not. You have made your point, Elessara, but it is little more than a lofty ideal. Joining a Redwood and a Mendeley is—”

  “A brilliant suggestion,” King Mekkai finished.

  Pip sucked a breath of air between his teeth. Terreen and Gwan leaned forward in their chairs while Halin drummed his fingers against the table. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, my daughter must decline.”

  “I do not decline,” Elessara interjected. She stood, addressing the council and present ambassadors. “Siren Mendeley killed my mother in the name of vengeance, and in vengeance my father slayed him. Whether we like it or not, the Redwoods and the Mendeleys made themselves the faces behind our racial tension. Together, we can undo it. If a Mendeley and a Redwood join together on behalf of our people and make this right, others will follow suit.”

  Rayhan nodded with every word. “I agree. Fear begets more fear, doubt, more doubt, and hate, more hate. The only way to stop this cycle is to do the opposite. A union between Lady Elessara and I would cause a stir, but that stir would make a statement. One that in time would show people that we can forgive—”

  Halin launched from his chair and Pip mirrored his actions, raising an arm in front of his captain in an attempt to guard him from what he thought was a coming assault. Halin drew back slightly. “Some things cannot be forgiven.”

  Rayhan placed a calming hand on Pip's arm and guided him back into his seat.

  “General Redwood, don’t you see?” he met Halin's gaze with a fearless courage. “This is what our grudges have made of us. I am not my father, but I have paid the price for his crimes a thousand times over. I do not wish my offspring, nor that of our people, to grow up suffering from our prejudice. Do you?”

  King Mekkai nodded to Nadel who stepped forward and took hold of Halin’s tense arm. Another soldier lifted the general's chair from the ground and set it back into place. A few words were exchanged between them in elvish before Halin slowly sat back down.

  “Peace is tentative between our kingdoms,” Rayhan continued. “It is an issue we need to address before history repeats itself. If Lady Elessara is truly volunteering to unite our kingdoms through a marriage of her own volition, then by Tennakawa's mercy, let it be.”

&nb
sp; Halin ignored Rayhan’s words and instead turned his attention upon King Mekkai. “I am not unreasonable, Your Majesty. I would tolerate my daughter’s hand being given to a rahee in the name of peace, so long as his name did not end in Mendeley. Is that really too much to ask?”

  “It defeats the purpose.” Rayhan pinched his brow in attempt to release some of his frustration. “Besides, the Connor family is small. Our king has only three nephews, all with the surname Mendeley.”

  “And a son,” Halin countered.

  “Prince Jaycent is still a child, and King Donovan’s firstborn,” Gwan clarified. “By rahenyan custom, he must wed a woman of rahenyan descent to carry on the bloodline.”

  King Mekkai stood, silencing the debate. “We present an extraordinary proposition at this table today. One that rouses many emotions. Due to the personal circumstances tied to this proposal, I think it is best if General Redwood, Lady Elessara, Captain Mendeley, and I discuss the long-term benefits and concerns brought about by this union in private. We will conclude this meeting tomorrow morning.”

  Rayhan remained in his seat as the elven council made a swift exit. An hour was given before the three individuals would be sent to meet with His Majesty privately.

  General Redwood tossed a glare in Rayhan’s direction before being escorted out of the room by two guards. Elessara hesitated, debating whether or not she should linger, but the king made the decision for her.

  “Elessara, come with me. I would like to speak with you alone before your father joins us.”

  Following their exit, Pip stood and brushed the wrinkles from his uniform, clearly disgruntled. “Well, that went about as well as I anticipated.”

  Nadel shook his head. “Captain, it would be best if you retired to your room for now. With tensions high, it would be easier on my men if you laid low until after your meeting with the king.”

  Pip shoved his chair under the table. “I will see you after your meeting, Captain,” was all he said before marching out the door, his own elven guard trailing reluctantly behind him.

  Rayhan gave a heavy sigh as Nadel held the door open for him, his free hand resting on his sword’s pommel. The elf looked even more perturbed than usual, reiterating to Rayhan that this meeting did not go well.

  On any other day, the captain wouldn't bother to test the elf's patience with his questions, but he was in desperate need of advice. Particularly, if he was to meet with Halin again within the hour.

  “Do you know General Redwood well?” he asked his guard.

  “I do...” Nadel squinted as he mulled over the outburst they had just witnessed.

  Rayhan pulled his hair free of its tight tail, hoping it would relieve some of the tension mounting between his ears. Rubbing his head, he tried to piece together a logical explanation. “Perhaps the shock of the announcement—”

  “No,” Nadel cut the air with his hand, killing Rayhan’s trail of thought before it took root. “The general has always been a quiet man. In the centuries I have known him, he has dealt with his anger internally. To lash out the way he did, even with all reasons considered, is not like him.”

  Nadel’s perplexed expression didn’t ease, even as he escorted Rayhan through the small sitting room that separated the rahee’s guest chamber from the hall.

  “I would like a moment alone to gather my thoughts,” Rayhan requested as he walked into his private chamber. Nadel completed his routine check before exiting the room with a nod.

  “I will be leaving you unattended for a brief while so that I may arrange for more guards on this hall. It is only a precaution and likely unnecessary, but I would feel better knowing we left nothing to chance.”

  Rayhan smiled. “Thank you, Nadel.”

  The elf started to leave, then hesitated, his lips parted slightly as if he was about to speak. Rayhan waited, but the elven captain ended up just shaking his head and saying, “Do not answer the door until I return.”

  “Of course...” Rayhan stared pensively at the door as it shut behind Nadel. The distinct click of his boots tapped their way out of the sitting room, followed by the clunk of the bolt that sealed the entry door shut.

  Well, that was peculiar, Jaspur muttered inside Rayhan's head.

  “Quite peculiar,” Rayhan agreed, not realizing that the thought wasn’t his own.

  The rogue had a mind to look around while Rayhan waited. He willed himself free of Rayhan's body, unaware that his lack of magic came with limitations until a loud crash sounded behind him.

  Jaycent turned, only to find his cousin sprawled across the floor, his legs tangled in a small foot stool he had stumbled over.

  “Tennakawa's hooves,” the captain gasped, his tan complexion drained of its color. He scrambled toward the corner of the room and back onto his feet where he stared wide-eyed in Jaspur's direction. There, he proceeded to pat his chest frantically, as if he half-expected there to be a gaping hole. “Were you... inside of me?”

  The rogue glanced over his shoulder, then back at his cousin, wondering who he was talking to. There was no one else in the room. He took a step closer. Rayhan quickly stepped back, and a sense of dread washed over the rogue.

  “Can you see me?” Jaspur asked.

  The captain tossed his hands out wide. “Am I not supposed to?!”

  Jaspur looked down at his hands which were visible, if not slightly transparent. When exploring visions, he had never been visible. Not even to himself. His gift kept enough of his soul tied to his body so that he was nothing more than an observer.

  Now, be it his lack of magic or something far worse, Jaspur didn’t have that ability. He was all in, his spirit fully present in the past.

  “Shit,” he muttered. The rogue watched his cousin debate whether he should muster a greeting or draw his sword and realized he had just made himself a part of history. “Shit!”

  “Yes, you said that already,” Rayhan settled on crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the spirit pace back and forth in front of him. Somehow, the both of them being equally perplexed made the whole experience slightly easier for Rayhan to swallow. He drummed his fingers against his bicep as he tried to make sense out of it all. “Are you one of the spirits from the forest? Did we cross swords somewhere?”

  “What?” Jaspur snorted at the thought. “No, of course not.”

  “Okay... I assume you are a spirit, at least?”

  The thought only made Jaspur pace even quicker. “No. At least, I didn’t think so. Now... ugh, now I'm not so sure.”

  “You aren’t sure? You just walked out of me.”

  “Yes,” Jaspur threw his hands up. “It happens more than you think! Just, not in this way.”

  This was bad. Very, very bad. Anything Jaspur said, anything he did, could change the fabric of history in ways he could never guess.

  Rayhan raised a curious brow at the perplexed ghost. “You do this often, then? Wearing people as tunics?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Jaspur tapped his forehead, trying to remember what Rayhan's spirit had said before he shoved him out of the Veil. Something about being reminded of his purpose. His cousin was the one to send him into these memories. From the beginning, he had been guiding Jaspur through glimpses of the past. But why?

  Jaspur came to an abrupt halt. “Was this supposed to happen?”

  Rayhan cocked one ear back, confused. “Come again?”

  “What would you say if I told you this was planned?” Jaspur asked. “That you actually had a role in all of this, you simply do not know it yet?”

  “I would say you are talking in riddles. Who are you?”

  Jaspur plopped on the bed, surprised to find he could feel the plush cushion beneath him. “Who I am is still a young boy to you at present. One you are training in the art of combat.”

  Rayhan propped himself against the wall and sighed. “I know the names of all of my soldiers. You are not one of them.”

  “Not a soldier,” Jaspur walked up to his cousin. “Right n
ow, I am just a student to you. You see my father as your own.”

  Rayhan straightened, his arms falling to his sides. Suddenly, he knew what looked so familiar. Jaspur’s eyes, pale as blue ice, were hard to forget. Though the spirit before him was grown, Rayhan still recognized him as the prince, for he was tall, like King Donovan, and lean like His Majesty’s queen. The recognition pierced Rayhan’s heart, only to be replaced by a wave of sadness.

  “Jaycent Connor?” he whispered. “You cannot be dead. You are your father's heir; the future of Nevaharday!”

  “Aye,” Jaspur lied between his teeth. The only future he had given Nevaharday was ruination. The temptation of telling Rayhan the truth crossed his mind. He was already swaying the past, after all. He could warn his cousin; tell him of the coming betrayal of his lieutenant and all that would follow.

  But there were a thousand other consequences that would undoubtedly unfold because of that revelation, most of which were beyond his ability to fathom. He pushed the thought from his mind.

  “Those dreams I had as a boy… the nightmares. They were more than that, cousin. As I grew older, I discovered I could travel the past, present, and future through visions. This is one of them. It was you who sent me here. I just haven’t figured out why.”

  “I sent you here?” the disbelief in Rayhan’s voice was almost comical. Jaspur was used to his cousin being the composed one. Here, the roles were reversed. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” Jaspur shrugged. “I should be here to observe and nothing more. Which reminds me, do you know where your lieutenant is?”

  “In his room, I suspect.”

  Jaspur moved like a wisp toward the door. “I need to take a look around. Try not to make any big decisions until I return.”

  Rayhan watched the spirit of his cousin drift away. “This is absurd.”

  Jaspur's chuckle faded like a breeze as he swept out into the hall. “You don’t even know the half of it, cousin.”