Patchi’s heavy-lidded eyes drifted up to meet his friend’s gaze. “Soon, I will.”
Tobiano plopped into a cross-legged seat, his elbows perched on his knees. “You are worried about something.”
Patchi nodded. “Shadow undoubtedly suspects my involvement in Melah’s rescue. He will work quickly to form a defense against any attacks. If there was a time to strike, it is now, but we are not ready.”
“You knew Shadow would suspect your involvement before going in.”
“Aye, but we had little choice. Shadow would have broken Melah’s mind within a span of days, turning her into a puppet that he could use to facilitate his own ambitions. She needed us, and we need her in order to suppress the forces we will face when executing a coup d’état on Velagray.”
Tobiano ran a hand through his two-toned hair, which was shaved on the sides to emulate a horse’s mane. “So what has you so concerned? Is it the rogue? Do you still doubt his resolve?”
The chieftain was shaking his head even as Tobiano was talking. “No, Jaspur is not what concerns me. It is the hoard of soldiers and Abysmal minions that we must break through in order to even get him close to Shadow.
“Time is not on our side. Our spies inside of the city inform me that Shadow nears the end of his curse. Signs of madness are starting to show as his actions become unpredictable. His paranoia grows, making it difficult for them to obtain critical information. The citizens are too frightened to be of much help. I fear if we wait too long, Velagray will crumble into chaos.”
“So time is of the essence,” Tobiano murmured. “What is your plan thus far?”
“I have an idea of how we can get an ear within Shadow’s inner circle. However, it is pointless if we cannot get the bulk of our force inside the city’s walls.”
“We need more warriors…”
“We need the elves,” Patchi clarified as he leaned farther back against his pack. Running his hands across his tired face, he stared up at the ceiling of his tent, his mind several steps ahead of his words.
“Recruiting them will be no easy task. Whitewood has been at odds with the horse folk for decades. Have you a plan?”
“Only the start of one.”
Tobiano nodded. He had known Patchi long enough to understand when to press and when to be patient. His leader would disclose the details when he was certain of them. Until then, he simply had to trust that Patchi would come through with a solution in time for them to succeed.
“What would you have me do?” he asked, hoping to assist in any way possible.
“Tell me…” Patchi murmured. “Does the rogue know the truth about the boy?”
Tobiano’s lips pressed into a thin frown. “Melah has gone to great lengths to dissuade Jaspur from any suspicions.”
“Then make him aware. Time is of the essence. To form an alliance with the elves, we need a leader King Mekkai will support.”
Tobiano tilted a curious ear. “I thought Jaspur was going to lead the rebels to victory?”
“The sun has set upon rogue’s royal past, my friend,” Patchi replied. “The elves did not come to Nevaharday’s aid when it fell due to their broken relationship with Nevaharday. In order to establish a clean slate, we need not the old prince, but a new one. A rahee unblemished by past failures.”
“You don’t mean…” the notion was too incredulous for Tobiano. His words faded as his jaw fell slack.
“Aye,” Patchi replied. “T’is time we reveal the lost prince of Nevaharday.”
* * * * *
Tobiano felt the weight of Patchi’s orders as he waited for Melah to return. Leaning against a tree near the southern entry of their camp, he sighed and stared up at the web of branches above. An internal battle waged within his heart, his spirit torn between kindness and necessity.
This task was personal. Like Jaspur, he knew Melah not just by her title, but as Levee. She and the rogue had honed their magical gifts under his tutelage, and he viewed them both as family.
Patchi once berated Tobiano for his emotional attachment to their allies. He saw how such sentiments made his second-in-command’s duties more difficult. Tobiano remembered his words quite well:
“You chose the Awakening, just as I did. Understand that it is an isolated life, wrought with hard decisions. To you, these words will sound cold because you are still new to your eternal path, with a wife and an attachment to the mortal way of living. But one day you will learn that we are no longer a part of this world in the way we once were. T’will save you a lot of pain the earlier you learn this lesson.”
Tobiano had the utmost respect for his chieftain and mentor, but he struggled to accept this piece of advice. Through his nearly two hundred years on this earth, he had been an empathizing soul, caring for others as if they were his kin. There were times when he felt the ache of his timelessness as the seasons of life moved along without him.
And yet from the most joyous moments to the ones that violently wrenched his heart, Tobiano never once felt regret. From his perspective, there was life to be found in every one of them. Thus, he welcomed all experiences without bias.
However, that didn’t make his current orders any easier. Serving as the liaison between two of his former students, he would have to manipulate both of them in order to coax out the truth of a boy’s origins that may or may not be better left a secret.
Jaspur would certainly see through the re’shahna’s attempts. His cleverness and ever-present skepticism enabled him to spot a motive practically by scent. Tobiano would have better luck starting with Levee and facilitating her decision to reveal the truth to Jaspur herself.
The re’shahna loosed another long, regretful sigh as he let gravity pull his gaze back to his boots. Thinking too deeply about it wasn’t doing him any favors. If he kept this up, his former pupils would read his troubled expression before he had a chance to speak. He needed to clear his mind long enough to find a stoic center.
Lifting his chin, he cast his gaze upon the camp just over his shoulder. Above the high ridge that guarded their grassy haven from view came a flood of warm light. He paused, squinting against the sun’s set as it spilled like water down the stone face and over their camp. Even with the weight of his mission pressing down upon him, his soul still managed stir at the sight.
“Even the sky dons the colors of fall,” he whispered. Shaking his head in awe, he observed the myriad of colors until he could hear the faint sound of hard hooves galloping toward him. Ears perked, the re’shahna snapped his head forward. His pale green eyes twitched back and forth between the maze of trees, his hand lingering toward his bow, just in case.
Tapping into the inner wellspring of magic that controlled his equine form, he sent out a call. Melah?
Aye, I sense you, she replied almost instantly. Tobiano started to relax until her next words grazed his mind. The rogue and I have identified what remains of the refugees.
And?
Her voice grew solemn. Shadow unfortunately found them first.
Tobiano closed his eyes in silent lament for the lost. Murmuring a few words in prayer, he bid Tennakawa to welcome the slain to her side. Then, with arms crossed, he waited as the galloping steed drew near, revealing the dual-horned stallion that was Jaspur’s equine form. Jaspur gradually reduced his gait until he came to a halt before his former mentor.
The rogue’s equine form was enormous, his withers rising to at least eighteen hands. Tobiano had only seen it a few times, but he admired it greatly. Built with the strength of a draft horse but with graceful curves, it seemed to match the rogue’s warrior spirit.
Levee slid from his back and onto her feet, allowing Jaspur to revert back to his two-legged form. He was getting better at it. The change was nearly instant, proving that he had grown comfortable with the transition already. Shuddering with the last few pops of his bones, Jaspur cracked his neck before patting Tobiano’s shoulder. “There are a couple things I must do before I can report in, but Levee will catch you up to
speed. Is that okay?”
The re’shahna nodded. “I do not need two voices to tell one story. Go on, brother.”
The rogue offered a brief goodbye, then set out down the gradual slope that led into the valley while Levee joined Tobiano’s side. The pair fell into an easy stride with one another, the familiarity of teacher and student still present even though they had been apart for many years.
“He killed them all,” she stated quietly. There was pain in her voice. It matched the heaviness of her shoulders as her eyes studied the small pebbles that littered the ground. “Executed them in a glade like criminals. By the time we found them, it was too late. Those responsible for the killing were long gone.”
Tobiano folded his hands behind his waist, his head nodding slowly as she spoke. “We knew he would not tolerate the refugees’ escape for long. What you found is tragic, but it is also one of many reasons why we fight. We will avenge them, my friend. We will avenge all who have died at Shadow’s hand. This I promise you.”
“When?” she pressed. “How? Shadow’s army outnumbers us at least five to one.”
“Patchi is working diligently on a way to overcome that obstacle.”
“I’m certain he is, but how many more will have to die until we’re ready?”
Levee made it two paces before she realized Tobiano had stopped. She turned around, her expression twisted in grief. She looked tired, just like the rest of them. Creases were starting to form at the corner of her eyes, which carried bags of lost sleep. The pain of Shadow’s twisted acts was aging her.
Yet Tobiano had confidence that the mischievous gypsy he once knew was still there, just behind it all. Her sadness was a sign that she was still alive. He stared at her intently, a silent reprimand tucked within his gaze. She would not succumb to the scars of war. He would make sure of it.
“People have been dying by Shadow’s hand for centuries,” he reminded. “Have you not learned from Jaspur’s mistakes? Have you not seen firsthand the result of leaping headlong into war unprepared? We will not rush this operation only to see it fail. We will take the time we need to ensure its success.
“Many may die before we are ready, but in the end our patience will save more lives than it costs. Remember that when you see the fallen. Honor them with your resolve to do what we must in order to take down this foe.”
Tobiano watched her relax as the fight in her heart dissipated. “You’re right… Forgive me, Tobi. It has been a long few days and I haven’t slept much.”
He continued to walk, his deep voice carrying a sage-like tone. “Your heart is in the right place, Melah. Because of that, there is nothing to forgive.”
They walked in silence for a bit, giving Tobiano time to study his old pupil. Her auburn hair had grown longer over the years, draping toward the small of her back. From the looks of her maroon leggings, violet belt, and leather underbust corset, she had come to embrace the flare of her gypsy heritage, too. It suited her, Tobiano thought.
He could see why the rogue had fallen in love with her all those years ago. The pair complimented each other well. But now that love was a dagger in her bosom, and the re’shahna feared he had just patched her weary heart only to twist the blade even deeper.
“Today’s events aside, how are you fairing?” he asked.
Levee tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she watched her boots crunch across the dirt. “As well as any of us, I suppose.”
The re’shahna gave a doubtful hum. “You have seen the royal rogue, and know that he lives. I imagine that truth was not easy to accept.”
Levee paused as if her feet had suddenly grown roots. The clench in her jaw told Tobiano he had tugged on a nerve. “You aren’t one for subtlety, are you, old friend?”
He shrugged. “Would subtlety do anything to soften that question?”
She shook her head. Her gaze drifted to the sun-painted sky and Tobiano noticed a new sheen in her eyes. “When I thought he was dead, I was okay with it. I had moved on and found peace with his choice. I even came to respect it. But when Jaycent—”
“Jaspur,” Tobiano corrected.
Levee snorted. “Don’t tell me you call him that, too?”
“It is his name.”
“It is not,” she countered, her face contorting into a scowl. “Just because the prince runs away and creates an alias to convince us all he’s dead doesn’t make it who he is.”
“He did not run, my friend,” Tobiano insisted. “As much as I am certain it hurts, you should know Jaspur did what he had to do. He sacrificed everything he was—left behind everyone he loved—” the re’shahna paused, looking pointedly at her until she felt the need to look away, “so your people could have a chance at redeeming their freedom.”
Flustered, Levee tossed her hands in the air. “I don’t deny his intent. My problem is that he speaks as if Jaycent Connor is dead; as if his old name and everything that went with it belonged to someone else, but that isn’t how life works. Walking away from your past doesn’t erase it. Creating an alias under some other name doesn’t murder your former self!”
Tobiano leaned against the massive rock wall that shielded the valley, his arms crossed against his chest. “No, but a dagger will.”
Levee squinted. “What?”
Releasing his arms, Tobiano tapped the black tattoo on his chest that covered an old, round scar. “Have you forgotten how I acquired this?”
“The immortality spell?”
“Not a spell, but a ritual. The Awakening, t’is called.”
“Jaspur mentioned that. He told me he went through it in order to gain some special ability to fight Shadow…”
“Aye, but it does much more than that. The Awakening… We die, Levee. Patchi, myself, Jaspur—all of us have endured a mortal’s death only to be reawakened by the goddess through a unicorn’s magic.”
“But you’re here,” she pressed.
“Here, but not the same,” he crossed his arms again as if to ward off a chill breeze that wasn’t there. “If you knew me before the ritual, you would know that I am not the Tobiano Lightning Dancer the tribe once knew. I have changed, and so has the prince. That name and that life he once knew is beyond him now. Jaspur isn’t hiding from his true identity. He is exactly who he claims to be. Get to know him again and you will see that the Jaycent Connor you once knew is not there.”
“So he changed,” Levee scoffed.
“He is not there,” Tobiano reiterated, this time more firmly. “It is hard to understand, but Jaycent and Jaspur are two very different people. A part of Diego, a part of our goddess, and a part of the prince now make up the soul that is the rogue. He still retains pieces of his former life, but for the most part he is a new being.”
“What exactly does he retain?”
“His memories. Certain personality traits. Even certain feelings, though he may experience them differently than before.”
“What do you mean?”
“The ritual leaves those who survive it with a new perspective. One less narrow. We see the world not through the eyes of an individual, but as a whole. We experience time not as a generation, but as one that sees the coming and going of centuries.”
“I see…” she muttered.
“You do not,” he chuckled. “But that is my point. Jaspur may try to explain to you what he is experiencing, but you will not see it. Not at first. Even he is still uncertain how much of his original self exists, and how much of him is new. However, you should know his heart never stopped loving you. Through the years and through his transformation, you have remained at the forefront of his feelings.”
Levee flinched and Tobiano felt his heart sink. He had twisted the dagger hard that time.
“I do not care how he feels, Tobi. Not anymore.”
“And yet you are crying.”
Levee reached up and ran her fingers across her cheek, brushing away the damp streaks. She took a deep breath.
“Tell me…” now that Jaspur was in the c
onversation, Tobiano saw his chance to transition toward the true purpose of this difficult chat. “How is Sadikaye?”
“He is well.”
“I have seen him in camp, but we have not spoken much. What is he like?”
Levee smiled again. “Stubborn, but in a good way. When Sadikaye puts his mind to something, it’s hard to steer him away from it. I don’t think there is much he believes he can’t do, either.
“Like this rebellion. He is determined to be a part of it. Thankfully, he has a natural prowess and a resilience against hardship that is profound. If it wasn’t for those things, I’m not sure I would let him participate.”
“Hmm,” Tobiano murmured.
“What is it?”
“He sounds like his father.”
Levee paused, slowly licking her lips as she caught on to Tobiano’s meaning. “You know?”
Tobiano pushed away from the tree, his tone growing serious. “Aye.”
“Does Jaspur?”
“At the moment? I am not certain. But the rogue, he is clever. It will not take him long to piece the truth together, if he has not done so already.”
“I know, I know,” Levee pursed her lips together. “But it is for Sadikaye’s sake I have kept it a secret. If Shadow caught wind of who my son was, he would live his life with a bounty on his head.
“So I raised Sadikaye to believe Milo was his father. He already knows the stories of Jaycent and I training under the re’shahna. In fact, he figured out the rogue’s identity all on his own. If I revealed to him the prince of Nevaharday is also his—” she shook her head, not daring to finish the sentence. “It would change his life drastically.”
“Yet you said yourself he is resilient,” Tobiano reminded. “You cannot shield Sadikaye forever. Just like the rogue, he will learn the truth of his origins one way or another. When he does, his life will change. T’is best he hears it from his mother, don’t you think?”
The Rogue Trilogy Page 81