The Rogue Trilogy

by Elizabeth Carlton

  A small flask emerged from the rogue’s cloak. He took a hearty gulp to warm his stomach. He had only just begun to step out of the shadow of his own self-destructive feelings, but he knew he had a long way to go. The person he was today wasn’t who he wanted to be.

  The Awakening had given him purpose, but there was more to life than that. He lacked connection, and he sensed it was an important part of being a better person.

  Reaching for the kunah around his neck, the rogue pulled the pendant free and studied it under the dim moonlight. It was an old arrowhead, its edges dulled by age, but made of the clearest quartz Jaspur had ever seen. He held it up to one eye, noting the way it fractured his surroundings into splotches of shapes and colors.

  You’re still wearing that old thing? Diego’s baritone voice rumbled inside of Jaspur’s mind. It isn’t even your kunah.

  The rogue kissed the arrowhead’s blunt side before laying it to rest against his chest. I wear it to remind me.

  Remind you of what?

  Jaspur leaned his head against the bark as a familiar ache stirred in his heart. Of the person Rayhan always believed me to be.

  Diego looked up at the rogue, curious. He could tell by the look on his old friend’s tired face that Jaspur was digging for something; a truth inside of himself that only he could uncover.

  Rayhan had lived by Chivalry’s Code, loving and caring for others in a way the rogue too often failed to do. Although they both took the same oath, the tragedies in Jaspur’s life had caused him to lose faith in the code’s tenants. Ideals like chivalry, justice, honor, and integrity when presented against Shadow seemed more like weaknesses as the illusionist used them to his advantage.

  The rogue never managed to live up to any of Rayhan’s hopes during his cousin’s lifetime, but Deley and Sadikaye made him want to try again. He felt responsible for Deley’s lack of a paternal figure in her life, as well as helping Sadikaye be a successful heir to the throne.

  If his life had any purpose right now, it was to guide them as Rayhan had guided Jaspur. The task wouldn’t be easy. It would require him to change in many ways.

  Do you ever plan to make your own? Diego asked. Something to replace the kunah you passed on to Sadikaye.

  Jaspur’s ears perked in surprise. He licked his lips and took another swig of liquid fire as he considered the inquiry. The rogue had given his first kunah to Levee as he left behind his old life, only to continue living without one for eighteen years. It felt fitting at the time. After Nevaharday fell, Jaspur didn’t think himself worthy of any sort of legacy. In his eyes, he was no one, and nobodies didn’t deserve a kunah.

  However, when he found Rayhan’s, he immediately placed it around his neck for safekeeping. Then, after his Awakening, he started to look at it as a subtle reminder of the kind of person he was capable of being.

  Once upon a time Jaspur was an optimistic and amiable soul. Could he really be like that again?

  As night yielded to the morning’s light, the rogue resolved to try.

  * * * * *

  Neither Deley nor Sadikaye could place it, but over the next two days of their journey it felt as if they were led by a different rogue. Jaspur still wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Yet when he did speak, his words were useful and encouraging.

  Sadikaye found himself asking many questions, and Jaspur answered all of them with uncharacteristic patience. From how to greet and address nobility of various stations to the importance of posture and poise, Jaspur both taught and quizzed his son without so much as one sarcastic remark.

  Sadikaye wondered if perhaps the rogue was getting nervous. After all, this alliance was critical to their objective. Yet Jaspur himself had comforted Sadikaye with the reminder that he needn’t be perfect.

  “You are a prince, but you were not raised that way,” he said. “They will know this and be forgiving of any missteps in etiquette. Still, you want to exude an air of regality. Carry yourself as someone who deserves the throne, not someone who feels smaller than it.”

  “Won’t that make me look cocky?”

  “Not if you carry yourself well,” Jaspur sat down upon a small boulder on the side of their narrow path, its surface covered in moss. “A wise leader knows he won’t have all of the answers. He leans on his advisors for expertise beyond his own, so don’t hesitate to look to me for insight.

  “However, you have to pose these inquiries without giving the impression you let others make your decisions for you. If you seem easy to manipulate, people will use that to their advantage. Instead, treat every interaction like a card game. Be assertive, strategic, and never show more of your hand than you have to. Do you understand?”

  “I think so,” Sadikaye murmured. “Though I’m not sure how well I’m gonna do.”

  “Going,” Jaspur corrected. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath as he reached for patience beyond his typically short supply. “Remember to enunciate when you speak. Leave the Sarrokian accent behind. When in doubt, emulate the way your mother speaks. She was well read for a commoner and carried herself well among Nevaharday’s court.”

  Sadikaye chewed on his bottom lip. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

  Jaspur listened to the rush of water from the nearby falls, his lips pressed into a flat line. “No, it won’t be, but if you do as I say and trust my guidance, I believe we will succeed.”

  Deley’s attention drifted down the path, her arms crossed. “Moonridge is close. Three miles away at most. Perhaps we should clean Sadikaye up a bit before we arrive.”

  Jaspur gave Sadikaye a once over, a critical gleam in his eye. “Yes, he could use a woman's touch.”

  “What?” As Deley stepped toward him, Sadikaye fell back a step, his hands raised in protest. “Whoa, what do you mean a woman’s touch?”

  The rogue nodded his consent and Deley grabbed the young prince by the arm.

  “Hey, wait a minute, don’t I get a say in this?”

  “No,” both Deley and Jaspur replied in unison. The rogue waved as the half-elf dragged his son aside, her bag slung over her shoulder. What proceeded was a grooming unlike anything Sadikaye had ever experienced before.

  A forced scrub of his face and arms using what was left of Deley’s drinking water was soon followed by an attack upon his hair that had the young prince grunting and yelping in protest. Deley mumbled to herself as she worked out the many knots and tangles before trimming the dead ends with her dagger.

  Nimble fingers then reached for several strands and began weaving them into braids. She had plenty of time over the last few days to study her father’s sketches, many of which included Jaycent and his impressive repertoire of clothes and styles.

  Joining two braids in a loose circlet around Sadikaye’s head, she then proceeded to add two more thin braids alongside his face. Leaning back, she studied the boy’s visage.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Sadikaye asked, a bit disgruntled by the whole process.

  “It isn’t quite you,” she murmured.

  “Deley, I’ve spent the majority of my life in marketplaces or on a fishing boat. I don’t think any of this is going to look quite like ‘me.’”

  “No, it’s not that…” Digging through her bag, the half-elf pulled out a stick of charcoal and grabbed Sadikaye’s chin. “Close your eyes.”

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Trust me,” she insisted.

  Rolling his eyes, the young prince finally relented. Shoulders back, he closed his lids and tried not to twitch as he felt the smooth charcoal brush against his eyes.

  “Why are you painting my face?” he murmured.

  “Because this is what the re’shahna do when they prepare themselves for battle.”

  “But I’m not a re’shahna.”

  “You have the spirit of one,” Deley countered. “Besides, you are about to meet my mother, who has studied your people’s history and culture for many long years. Consider this an unspoken message.”

/>   “What is it supposed to say exactly?”

  Pulling away, she looked at his face and smiled. “That you are at war, Sadikaye, and that you will not relent until your people have won.”

  * * * * *

  Sadikaye didn’t get the chance to see Deley’s transformation. When they rejoined Jaspur, the rogue merely squinted and nodded before leading them on to Moonridge.

  Their path took them near the top of the mountain where the first snow was already beginning to fall. The narrow path forced them to walk single file, its edge lined with a meager hand rail. Time and harsh weather had long since robbed it of its integrity, and the trio avoided using it whenever possible.

  Sadikaye glanced over the edge through the corner of his eye, his heart skipping with adrenaline. Beyond the rotting wood was a plummet from which he could not see the bottom. It was beautiful and dangerous, the wind billowing upward.

  Above them, birds cawed from their nests, which they built within the mountain’s nooks and cracks. He wondered what it was like to live so high above the rest of the world. From this distance the rest of the realm seemed so small and trivial. It must be easy to detach from the affairs of others here.

  How hard would it be to convince the elves to join them? Did they even know what kind of heinous tyranny transpired in the rolling hills below their feet? If so, did they even care?

  The thought that anyone would ignore the plight of his people disturbed Sadikaye, but then if this wasn’t the case, why had the elves not bothered to help them before?

  “Deley, what are the elves’ thoughts on Shadow and our people’s circumstances?”

  “I can’t speak for Moonridge.” She breathed into her hands and rubbed them together in attempt to stave off the cold. “Whitewood’s relationship with your people has always been strained, but they view Shadow as a threat that needs eliminating. They simply do not have the means to handle it alone.”

  “So they need us like we need them?”

  Deley hesitated before answering. “They have a mutual interest in our goal, but they will see themselves as having the upper hand. It is not their kingdom under siege, after all. If anything, you need them.”

  Sadikaye smirked. “That seems a bit cold, don’t you think?”

  Deley pulled her hood farther over her face to shield it from the wind, then shrugged. “When it comes to politics, Sadi, it isn’t about empathy and compassion, but rather power. The more of it you have, the more influential you become.”

  Jaspur glanced over his shoulder, his expression solemn. “She is right. Remember, you may not have your kingdom yet, but when you do it will come with influence. You bring with you the prospect of renewed trade and the return of rahenyan goods. King Mekkai of Whitewood once considered our warhorses to be worth a dragon’s hoard. We would be wise to remind him of this.”

  Sadikaye nodded, taking his companions’ advice to heart. The rush of water grew louder now, drawing his attention back to their trek. They were so high that the young prince had a hard time fathoming where the water came from. He could see the top of the mountain, which was already gathering a head of white snow.

  Then he saw it. Around the sharp curve of the mountainside came a view that stole the air from his lungs. Beyond the winding path an entire city opened up, its crystal walls and many spires rising like icicles upon the mountain’s peak.

  Even from a distance, the city glittered under the sun’s light, its rays refracted into various colors. Sadikaye had never seen such lustrous architecture. It made even the castle he saw from a distance in Velagray look like a humble cottage.

  Jaspur turned around and chuckled when he noticed Sadikaye’s gaping jaw. “Impressive, isn’t it? The elves are quite infatuated with beauty. Sometimes it borders on obsession, but you cannot deny their elegance.”

  “Mmhmm,” Sadikaye murmured, too enchanted for words.

  “Come on,” Deley nudged, eager to get out of the cold. “I promise you will enjoy it more once we are inside.”

  As the narrow path converged with the main road, the trio quickly found themselves back within society. Elves mounted on white and gray dappled horses trotted passed them, offering curious glances at the pair of unicorns in their company.

  Despite its isolated location, Moonridge was no stranger to reputable visitors. Known for its expansive library and archive of rare scrolls and literature, scholars, alchemists, and mages traveled from all corners of the realm to expand their knowledge and seek answers.

  Sadikaye’s eyes drew upward as they approached the city’s gates, which rose more than forty feet above their heads. The doors, controlled by large mechanisms housed inside twin archer towers, were currently open with several guards posted.

  Hailing one of them, Jaspur discreetly disclosed their business while Sadikaye continued to stare wide-eyed at their surroundings.

  Deley cleared her throat, drawing the young prince’s attention. “Try to look less like a tourist and more like you’re here on business,” she whispered. “You are a prince, remember?”

  “Oh,” Sadikaye laughed and looked away. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”

  “Sadikaye. Deley. Come along,” Jaspur waved them over to the soldier standing attentively by the gate. “Elessara is already waiting for us.”

  The young prince readjusted his pack. He tried his best to shake the awe from his expression as he fell in step alongside Jaspur.

  “You are here a bit later than expected,” remarked the guard. “From the message we received, we had expected your arrival this morning. Elessara had to clear her entire schedule for this meeting.”

  “Yes, well, I suppose we would have been more timely had we not encountered a wendigo along the way,” Jaspur replied, his sarcasm back in full swing.

  “Ah… I suppose that is understandable, then.” If the guard had any other complaints about having to wait outside for several hours, he wisely held them back.

  As the elf lead them up the main road, Sadikaye finally discovered the source of water. His hand reached subtly for Deley’s elbow. She looked at him, and he nodded to the water cascading from beneath the palace’s extensive outdoor balcony. It fell several stories before splashing into a large body of water bordered by benches and gazebos. A single river diverged from it, flowing through the city until it disappeared underground near the northern gates.

  “Aye, that water is pivotal to Moonridge. The waterfall and river supply the city with running water, while water wheels help power mills and mechanisms used here.”

  Sadikaye nodded. Moonridge was a small city. He could see the full length of it from the main road, yet it was full of wonders beyond his imagining.

  Beside the castle rose one of the spires he had seen from a distance, and he had to suppress his elation when he realized this was their destination.

  “This is the library,” Deley whispered. “My mother has her own living quarters and study at the top of the spire.”

  Diego and Siabra retreated toward a patch of open grass as the trio of guests headed toward the door. Marching up a long set of steps, they entered the spire and veered right toward a spiraled staircase. Inside, the walls were lined entirely with shelves, all of them filled end-to-end with books.

  The smell of old parchment and ink filled the tower, but it wasn’t overwhelming. If anything, it complimented the spire’s ambiance. It was a quiet place. So much so that the very sound of their boots against the steps seemed to resound throughout the library.

  Sadikaye’s legs began to ache as they climbed ever higher. Deley didn’t exaggerate when she said her mother’s quarters were above the library. By the time the guard had escorted them to the very top of the spire, Sadikaye had broken a sweat.

  The elf knocked upon a set of double doors and listened. When a kind voice invited them in, he opened both doors at once.

  “Lady Elessara,” he announced. “Sadikaye and his companions are here to see you.”

  A lithe elven woman with long, chestnut curls rose
from her desk to greet them. She wore a light green dress with a slight train, her sleeves billowing over her hands.

  “My dear Deley,” her voice was playful. “You bring with you the most intriguing company.”

  Jaspur stood straighter in Elessara’s presence, and Sadikaye was quick to emulate it. The young prince was nervous as Whitewood’s historian walked straight up to him, though he fought valiantly to hide it.

  “Sadikaye Connor, I presume?” A smile played across her red lips as she looked him up and down.

  Sadikaye bowed, eliciting a muffled grunt from Jaspur.

  Elessara cocked her head, curious. “What is this? It is unbecoming of a prince to bow before someone of a lower station. Even in your culture.”

  Thinking quickly, Sadikaye replied, “But it is polite to bow before a beautiful lady, is it not?”

  Jaspur huffed, his eyes glancing at the ceiling as if silently screaming for the gods to intervene. “Clearly, he has not been raised as a prince,” he piped up, drawing Elessara’s attention. “I think you would find it understandable considering his mother has gone to great lengths to keep Sadikaye’s heritage hidden.”

  “And you are?” she inquired.

  “No one of import.”

  “Yet you were trusted to escort a prince?”

  “Someone has to guard his back, my lady.”

  Elessara walked a slow circle around Jaspur, quietly deducing what she could from his appearance. “Remove your hood. I would like to see your face.”

  Jaspur reached up and pulled back his hood, revealing the mane-like cut of his shoulder-length hair. Elessara raised an inquisitive brow, for it wasn’t often she saw a re’shahna’s hairstyle on a rahee.

  The salt-and-pepper scruff on Jaspur’s face told her this was not someone who spent a lot of time consorting with nobility. His clothes were more akin to a rogue or ranger.

  Still, there was something about his eyes…

  “You have seen much,” Elessara ventured to guess. “I can see it on your countenance. You have lived a life rife with hardship and tragedy, haven’t you?”