The Rogue Trilogy

by Elizabeth Carlton

  Sadikaye was the first to notice her approach. His magic sensed her long before his eyes did and he reined his mount back, drawing the attention of his companions.

  Milo frowned. “What is it, son?”

  “A night mare’s close by,” he said quietly. “And closing in quickly.”

  Milo immediately drew one of his scimitars, followed by Bry and the other gypsies. Sadikaye held up a hand, staying his companions as he cautiously led his horse forward. The steed beneath his seat pulled back with a loud whinny, protesting against Sadikaye’s instructions, but the young rider didn’t relent.

  “Pa, did Ma ever say how she spoke to horses?”

  Milo looked at his son, then to the path ahead. “She pictured who she was speakin’ to, then just thought the words in her head.”

  Sadikaye closed his eyes, imagining the image of a coal mare. Gradually, shadows coalesced into the form of a galloping, skeletal equine, its silhouette wavering like the serpentine dance of a flame. Night Mare, he thought in his head. Can you hear me?

  Sadikaye marveled at how the creature galloping hard in his mind suddenly slowed, its torn ears pricked attentively forward. Brave you must be, foal-child, for few would dare speak to me.

  You seek my Pa, Sadikaye replied. I heard it in your thoughts.

  The mare’s image tossed its head, the lights of its eyes flaring. Sadikaye began to sweat as he felt the heat of her anger. It whirled around in his mind, hissing with the threat of pain should he dare to try anything clever. He inhaled sharply, pulling his awareness back a bit. A low cackle echoed inside his head that reminded him of an old woman.

  You want something from me. What is it? she asked. Explain yourself, or you shall burn until your life is spent.

  Sadikaye was terrified of this creature, and the mare evidently knew it. Still, his mother was in peril and he would not stop until he found her. Not even in the face of a monster such as this.

  We are searching for my mother, Levee.

  Your mother? Sadikaye watched behind closed eyes as her long, bony frame whipped through faded blades of grass as tall as her chest.

  Around him, shouts rang out. Sadikaye snapped open his eyes as his horse reared, throwing him to the ground. The young rahee rolled through the high grass, then climbed to his feet as Milo and the gypsies charged forward. It was then Sadikaye realized the night mare was upon them.

  “Wait!” he shouted.

  If anyone heard him, they didn’t listen. Sadikaye leapt onto his spooked horse once more, kicking her into a gallop as he raced to intervene.

  “Stop!” he yelled. “She can help us!”

  Milo looked back at his son and made a split-second decision to trust him. He jerked his mount right, whirling around just as the night mare galloped by him.

  Kalitska launched into a high jump, clearing Bry’s charge. As her front hooves touched down, she batted aside the sword of another gypsy with her horn and bounded away from a third. Seconds later, she was circling Sadikaye.

  “Yes,” she said out loud. “And help you I shall. I can lead you to your mother, should your foolish friends stand down.”

  “The night mare is a poet,” Milo remarked.

  “She is old,” Bry warned. “Very old.”

  The mare swatted her frayed tail, her nostrils flaring in a burst of steam. “You would know, wouldn’t you re’shahna?” she replied. “Your skin is young, but your mind is old. Your life is a secret left untold.”

  “Her words are laced with magic,” Bry spat. “Do not trust her.”

  “Aye, the re’shahna is right,” she pranced up to Sadikaye. “Only you can trust me, foal-child. The boy who is the shadow of his mother… your faith in me is true, for I will heed you. No other.”

  “Enough with your riddles,” Milo interjected. “Time is of the essence. Levee is in danger, is she not?”

  The mare sidled up to Sadikaye, her mangy coat scratching against his knee.

  “You want me to ride with you?” the boy asked, wary of the idea.

  “I was sent to fetch you, so south I went,” she replied. “But we must be swift, and your horse is spent.”

  “Why are you helping us?” Sadikaye wanted to know.

  “A promise for a promise,” she replied. “That is all you need to know.”

  Sadikaye swallowed his fear. “Swear to me you will take us safely to my mother.”

  “Safe? Not where we must go. Great danger lies ahead, for your search leads down below.”

  LEVEE’S DEFIANCE

  Jaspur and his company followed Patchi out of the shelter of the mountains and back into the forest that bordered Velagray’s territory. The re’shahna were swift, even on foot. Years of living among them had enabled Jaspur to develop the same stealth and stamina, but he never lost his admiration for these warriors. They were nearly forty in number, yet they moved with the grace of nocturnal hunters as they slipped unnoticed within the dense cluster of trees.

  The rogue noted how Patchi paused periodically, inspecting signs that only he seemed to recognize before traversing onward or changing their course. It occurred to Jaspur that this was the first time the two of them had truly worked side-by-side with one another. He was used to the chief giving orders and watching them unfold from a distance. Rarely did he ever insert himself into a mission.

  There was a reason for that, of course. Patchi was not a warrior. Not in the traditional sense. One-on-one combat was not his forte, yet he was more formidable than anyone in their company.

  Every re’shahna he had ever met had a story to tell about the brilliant strategist and how he’d worked seemingly impossible situations to his people’s advantage. If things went south tonight, Jaspur hoped he would have a reason to praise him as well.

  The company soon came upon the remains of an old town where Patchi signaled for his warriors to fall back. He then crept into the ruins with only Tobiano and Jaspur in tow.

  “We arrive late,” Patchi stated as he ducked behind a stone chimney that had outlasted the walls it once served. The chief nodded over his shoulder to an empty caravan with the undead hart at its head. “The absence of guards tells us the caravan stands empty. To the halls underground they have gone, where Shadow likely waits.”

  “Why?” Jaspur asked. “The underground halls have a massive network of tunnels. If Levee escaped, she would have a hundred places to hide whereas the dungeons beneath the castle have one narrow entrance and exit.”

  “Escorting Levee through the city is too great a risk,” Tobiano explained. “Shadow would not have forgotten the stampede she created the night he took your throne. He would aim to avoid such chaos.”

  “How would the underground halls be any safer?” Jaspur wondered as he snuck a glance at the strange gray hart standing vigil beside a shattered wall.

  “Do you hear Melah’s call?” Patchi asked.

  Jaspur strained his ears, then shook his head.

  “Therein lies your answer. The earth bars her magic’s reach. Stray deep enough and her call is muted entirely. Once we enter, she will sense us, but not before.”

  Jaspur pulled back and rose to his feet. “So how do we get down there?”

  Patchi motioned for one of his men to join them and directed him to take six of their quickest warriors to create a diversion.

  “You are scavengers, looking for an easy steal,” he explained. “Twenty have been chosen to follow Tobiano, Jaspur, and myself underground. When the last of these men slip down those stairs,” he pointed to the broken wall beside the caravan, “fall back and rejoin our remaining company to guard our escape. Do not try to kill the beast. It will not work.”

  The warrior nodded and went to gather his party. It gave Patchi only a few minutes to explain his plan, which he quickly outlined.

  “The warriors will press on ahead, scouting and eliminating what guards they are able without causing alarm. Below us are three diverging tunnels that lead to a central chamber. Shadow will be there waiting, I wager. If this
is true, wait. Watch. On no grounds should you act without my signal.”

  Patchi stared pointedly at Jaspur, who had surely earned that look.

  “What exactly will we be waiting for?” the rogue whispered.

  “An opportunity,” Patchi replied.

  “What kind of opportunity?”

  “When I see it, you will know.”

  The vagueness of that statement gave Jaspur pause. “Wait, so that’s it? Your strategy is to sneak into a cavern with a power-crazed illusionist and hope for the best?”

  Patchi arched a flaxen eyebrow. “I have not the foresight to predict everything, rogue. What happens inside depends much on what we find there.”

  That statement elicited a heavy sigh from Jaspur.

  “Now what is it?” Patchi frowned.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Out with it,” Tobiano insisted.

  “I was expecting the infamous Patchi to bring a little more to the table. That’s all.”

  “Do you have a better idea?” the chief challenged.

  “No, no,” the rogue replied. “By all means, lead on. Nothing gets the blood pumping more than hunting down the biggest threat to the realm and deciding we’ll just wing it!”

  A shout signaled the distraction and the trio peeked around the fireplace to see the hart had turned the cart around. His antlers were bowed, their tips aimed toward a cloaked re’shahna and six cohorts. The warriors surrounded the creature as if they intended to find a way around the hart to the caravan’s doors.

  Patchi made for the far side of the fireplace, half-ducking and half-crawling his way to the broken building that shielded the entrance to the underground tunnels. Tobiano and Jaspur followed, and the twenty previously chosen warriors fell in stride behind them. They disappeared single file down the stairwell as Patchi’s distraction unfolded perfectly.

  When Jaspur’s boots left the bottom step, he shrank toward the nearest wall and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Tobiano’s shoulder brushed against his chest as he dared to explore beyond the sparse reach of moonlight that trickled down the stairs. Patchi veered right, stopping just within the shadows as the twenty warriors moved on ahead of them into the tunnels.

  Patchi held up a small hand just within the light’s reach, signaling for Jaspur and Tobiano to wait as the last warrior disappeared into the darkness. The trio strained their ears, listening as the warriors cleared the path ahead. Even the lightest scuff of a boot seemed to echo in this place, and so they took great care not to make a sound.

  Jaspur had traveled through the underground only once in his life when he followed Tobiano to the ruins of Bresan T’ahnya. He hated it then, and time had done nothing to soften that opinion. He focused on his other senses to decipher what waited for them beyond the light. He caught the scent of burning oil farther down one of the corridors. A muffled scuffle echoed from the right hall, but was quickly muted.

  The rogue looked again in Patchi’s direction as he waited for orders. The chief flicked his wrist, signaling them onward. Patchi moved right; Tobiano veered left. With a resigned sigh, the rogue pressed on into the central tunnel.

  With one hand upon the wall as his guide, he moved with calculated steps, his ears twitching at every sound. Water dripped from the tunnel ceiling, tapping his head and shoulders just often enough to make the rogue jumpy. His left hand never left Lumiere’s hilt as he passed a few side tunnels. Small and narrow, he chose to avoid them, his focus on the central chamber Patchi claimed was ahead.

  At one point Jaspur’s hand brushed against something soft. He leapt backward, unsheathing Lumiere as he did. The blade’s faint blue glow revealed it to be a rahee dressed in Velagran armor. He sat slumped against the wall, his chin perched upon his collar. Blood dribbled from beneath the rahee’s helmet and down his breastplate, telling Jaspur his throat had been slit.

  He silently praised the work of Patchi’s warriors, who had likely disengaged the guard only a minute or two before he found him. His keen ears had heard nothing, which meant neither did their enemy. Still, Jaspur had the strange feeling he wasn’t alone. The rogue remained in a crouch, willing the glow of his sword away as he slid into a nearby alcove.

  That's when he heard something—nay, felt it. A call for help. It beckoned him onward with a desperation that Jaspur felt as keenly as he would his own. Pictures filled his mind, so quickly he could hardly sort through them. He clenched his eyes shut as he tried to make sense of it.

  Two pairs of burly hands held Levee’s arms in a bruising grip. Jaspur saw it all unfold from her perspective. Eyes on her feet, the gypsy stumbled through the same tunnel he walked now. Flashes of torchlight mottled her vision, its light moving in a nauseating whirl. Then came two pleading words…

  Help me.

  For a moment, Jaspur’s mind went blank except for the compelling need to rescue her. He nearly bolted from the alcove to answer Levee’s call when common sense screamed for him to stop. The rogue grabbed a rough jut of rock sticking out from the wall and reined himself back. His eyes widened as he contemplated what had come over him. Even with Levee in peril, he would not have been so reckless.

  “Her gift,” he murmured. Diego’s wisdom quickly filled in the gaps. Jaspur had never felt its pull before now because his unicorn form did not exist. Now that his equine half had been awakened, he was susceptible to Levee’s influence, and it was like the call of a siren.

  Jaspur shook his head. There was an irony there he would have to consider later. The rogue slipped from the alcove and lengthened his careful stride. More than once, he inspected a side room only to find the limp bodies of guards stuffed inside. Their weapons had been pilfered and some bits of armor as well. A hilt here, a helmet there… the re’shahna seemed rather specific in their collection.

  The rest of his trek remained eerily quiet, to the point where the rogue was relieved when he eventually spotted the wavering glow of a torch. From its illumination, Jaspur could see two guards standing between him and the large cavern where the light originated.

  Odd, he thought. He hadn’t seen any of the re’shahna who had entered before him… or had he? On a hunch, Jaspur kicked a rock in the guards’ direction. It skipped and bounced toward the pair’s boots as he stepped within their field of vision, one hand on Lumiere’s hilt. The guards glanced briefly in his direction, then ignored him as if he wasn’t even there. Jaspur knew they hadn’t missed him. He had made his approach quite obvious. That could only mean one thing.

  These were not true Velagran guards.

  “Well done,” the rogue whispered upon his approach. “Where are the others?”

  “Many corridors,” the guard on the right whispered back in a heavy accent similar to Tobiano’s. “We left nothing to chance.”

  Jaspur nodded. The warriors were replacing Shadow’s guards as they hid the bodies, thus securing the area while keeping their presence a secret. Feeling safe in the company of his clever allies, the rogue crouched beside the tunnel’s mouth and spied upon what unfolded inside the cavern.

  * * * * *

  Levee sensed the presence of three powerful beings. Unicorns. They had to be, for nothing sang in her mind quite like the magic of those majestic creatures. Darthek and his lackeys dragged her mercilessly to a well-lit chamber where they forced her to her knees. She tried not to smile as she dropped her chin to her collar, feigning unconsciousness.

  Tapping into her magic, Levee reached out to the unicorn trio. They lingered just outside of the large cavern where they watched her closely, waiting for the right moment.

  “Why is she unconscious?” a displeased voice interrupted Levee’s focus. “Darthek?”

  “She shouldn’t be,” the assassin replied. “I gave her a moderate dose of unicorn’s tail three hours ago. The gypsy should be awake, if not a little out of sorts.”

  Even with her eyes closed, Levee knew she knelt before Velagray’s king. Hard heels circled around her kneeling form. Like the unicorns, Levee could
sense Shadow’s essence, but there was nothing comforting about it. His presence felt dirty, as if it polluted everything it managed to touch. Levee steeled her nerves, reminding herself to be brave.

  Be strong, old friend, a voice echoed across her thoughts. We are with you.

  Levee honed in on the owner of those encouraging words. Even after so many years, it was hard to mistake the elemental stallion’s identity. He had a lively aura that made her skin prickle like static energy.

  Tobiano, she acknowledged. Yours is a welcomed voice!

  The other two unicorns kept their silence, though they too felt familiar to the gypsy. The second one was smaller than Tobiano, but blindingly bright, like a star from the heavens. She turned her mind’s eye away from that one, unable to look upon him long enough to decipher any details.

  The third stirred an ache in her heart, but Levee couldn’t tell why. He was a regal breed that was built for war. His silhouette wavered like a silver and blue flame. Perhaps if she had time she could piece together what made him so familiar, but Shadow gave her none of that.

  “Are you sure she is actually unconscious?” he asked.

  Darthek gave an offended sniff. “You wanted me to bring the gypsy to you unspoiled, and here she is. What does it matter if she’s faking it?”

  “It doesn’t,” the tyrant king replied. “But if she thinks herself clever by toying with us, then I will truly enjoy what comes next.”

  Levee could hear the wicked smile in Shadow’s voice. Five cold fingers gripped her chin and Levee braced herself as the image of the three unicorns inside her mind splintered into a thousand pieces. The violating presence of Shadow Silverhorn lashed against her consciousness like the pelt of a ruthless storm. Strong as Levee was, she could not prepare for the brutality of that touch, nor the terrible hallucinations that followed.