“That taint is so deep that purifying it will destroy him,” Patchi finished.
“And what about his minions?” King Mekkai asked.
“Chop the head off the snake and the rest will lay down their arms,” Patchi replied.
“What about the civilians?” Sadikaye asked. “The reason Nevaharday fell the first time is because half of our people turned against us.”
Jaspur shook his head.
“Those people were followers of Shadow, young prince,” Patchi explained. “You need not fear the loyalty of Nevaharday’s true citizens. My spies have been busy integrating themselves into the city’s populace for eighteen years. Already, upon my word, they have begun to spread rumors that the prince of Nevaharday is alive and intends to take back his throne. It will arouse the serpent, but also the hopes of your kin. When our strike occurs, those loyal to Nevaharday will rise up with us.”
Jaspur nodded. “Those loyal to the Connor name have never wavered, Sadikaye. They are simply waiting for their true king to step forward.”
At that, King Mekkai smiled; an expression that seemed contagious as it spread across the faces surrounding the table.
“Well done, Prince Sadikaye,” the elven king said. “It seems we have a plan.”
About that time, King Mekkai’s advisors returned with the agreement detailing the terms of their alliance. After another hour of careful review, the present company found an agreement.
A quill was handed to Sadikaye, who dipped its tip in ink and signed his first document as the heir of Nevaharday and the voice of his people.
“Finally, the rahee and the elves stand beside each other once again,” Jaspur murmured over his shoulder. As Sadikaye replaced the quill, he looked up at the rogue, who then winked. “And it is in no small part because of you.”
The Connor Name
Bry saw the potential in the gathering of regulars at the Armed Maiden. He spent the next few days in their company, nudging them in the right direction.
Soon, weapons began filtering in through Teeg’s backdoor connections only to be cleverly distributed one-by-one as they filled old, empty scabbards or slid into packs over a round of mead. Word spread through a careful network of friends, who then began putting in their own orders through many of the regulars. Money started flowing through the Armed Maiden once more, and the barkeep was thrilled to see his till growing.
The nightly crowd, too, seemed to swell. Upon Bry’s bidding, the regulars began moving their meetings into the tavern’s storeroom where they could evade prying ears.
Any who were naïve enough to ask Teeg about anything outside of mead, meals, and a warm bed found only an oblivious barkeep. It impressed Bry how genuine the man’s front seemed. He was clearly no stranger to keeping secrets.
The re’shahna had already looked into Bry’s past before he came here. The barkeep had a history of smuggling items, but he seemed to operate under his own code of ethics. He never killed anyone, nor threw his comrades under the guillotine. People respected Teeg, and Bry believed he could be trusted.
However, these people needed direction. The re’shahna could only say so much without blowing his cover, and there were none present in their group that had any real combat training. These people needed someone to guide them until the prince arrived or else they may just get themselves killed beforehand.
Thankfully, Bry knew where to turn.
Rising early, he said goodbye to Teeg and headed out into the city. Even though the sun had barely shown its face, the Velagran Guard was active in the streets. Bry couldn’t kick a rock without hitting one.
The re’shahna picked his path carefully, falling in step with other citizens or drifting into crowds when he could manage it. As he drew close to the warehouse that served as his gateway to the underground, he made it a point to linger at a nearby stall. Feigning interest in their wares, he waited for a cart drawn by a mule to pass, then used it as a cover before disappearing into the alley and through the window.
Once inside, descending was easy. Bry slipped down into the basement, removing the tile quietly and slipping back into the depths of the old undercity.
He felt far more comfortable here in the belly of the city’s forgotten tunnels than he did in Shadow’s streets. Breathing in the cool air, he trotted down the steep steps and into the passageway illuminated by a series of torches.
The others were already here. Following the lit path, Bry made his way to the empty chamber where he and the other spies had agreed to meet five days after their mission began.
On the stone surrounding the doorway, a series of runes shimmered under the fire’s glow. From outside, it appeared as though the room was empty. The floor was bare and no sound met his ears except for the crackle of burning torches.
However, the moment he stepped inside, he saw nine re’shahna. Two sat in the room’s far corners while others leaned against the walls, their voices hushed in spite of the spell that masked them from the outside.
“Teeyam, brothers,” Bry greeted.
Each of them returned the old greeting before falling quiet, their ears perked toward the master spy as they waited for him to speak. One-by-one, Bry asked them to recount a summary of their efforts thus far.
Their response was as he expected: all of them had succeeded in spreading the rumor of the prince’s return. It spurred hope, and with it whispers that caught the attention of Shadow and his minions. The Velagran Guard was even more suspicious than usual, and many of them had their hands full keeping the informed out of trouble.
Bry’s group seemed to be the most successful. In fact, many of the others had sought out regulars at the Armed Maiden for their newly acquired weapons.
“We need someone to help mediate their zeal, Bry,” said one of the spies. “I fear we cannot keep enough eyes on them ourselves. They need a leader who can step up and guide them until Patchi returns with the young prince and his army.”
“Speaking of princes,” one of the re’shahna sitting in the corner raised his hand, drawing Bry’s attention. “Should we not inform them that it is Jaycent’s son and not Jaycent himself who intends to make this move?”
Bry shook his head. “Let them discover that after the battle. For now, Jaycent’s reputation serves our purpose best. The rahee are already restless with the mere possibility of his return. Better we focus on guiding that energy. Besides, Shadow will quiver more at the sound of Jaycent’s name than a boy who claims to be Jaycent’s heir.”
A chuckle rose up, and Bry didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know who it belonged to. “Have you something to add, Atuli?”
The re’shahna stepped forward, his cowl drawn back to reveal the thick, black strip of his warrior’s mane. Everything about him echoed their tribal nature, from the black paint over his eyes to the white birthmark on his brow.
Unlike the others, Atuli made little effort to blend with Velagray’s populace. He was a prideful sort who did not hide his heritage for anyone. Instead, he depended upon stealth to get by unnoticed—a skill for which he was exceptional.
“Why lean upon the Connor name to sway the rahee?” he grinned, and his eyes smiled with his teeth. “Let a re’shahna bring his testimony to the people. They will listen to us. The rahee revere us.”
Bry had questioned Patchi on choosing Atuli for this mission. In truth, he didn’t particularly like this spy all that much. While he sought confidence in those who partnered with him, Atuli had a bit too much of it.
However, for this particular role that kind of sureness could prove useful.
“Are you volunteering?” Bry asked.
Atuli cocked his head, intrigued. “What would you have me do?”
“You must use caution,” the master spy warned. “We cannot let Shadow catch wind of the re’shahna interfering with his populace. However, if you drop by the Armed Maiden tonight, we can put on a show that will sweep away the rahee’s doubts while placing you at the forefront of their trust.”
Atuli sprouted a devious grin. “You have my ears, brother. Tell me your plan.”
* * * * *
Bry returned to the Armed Maiden late that afternoon and retreated to his room. Perched on the sill of his window, his back against the open frame, he watched the sun set.
Bry sighed. He despised Velagray. Rays of sunlight spilled into the streets, reflecting off the armor of the Velagran Guard which grew in number by the day. Beyond the chink of metal and the occasional slam of a door, the city was eerily quiet. The citizens here moved like mice, evading attention whenever possible.
It was a city of secrets, fear, and treachery; a place where the good were helpless and the evil thrived. How Shadow could ever look down upon this and be proud was far beyond Bry’s understanding. With his flaxen ears pressed back and his fingers clenched over the back of his palms, he snorted in disgust.
As the last tendrils of daylight seeped over the horizon, the re’shahna crawled back into his room and slid the window shut. Grabbing his coin purse from underneath the bed, he stepped out of his room and down the stairs where Teeg was tending to his first round of customers.
Offering the barkeep a tired smile, Bry slid onto a stool and held up a finger, indicating that he would like a drink.
“Wine or mead today, Rylee?” Teeg asked in an unusually jovial tone.
“Mead’s fine,” he replied, his voice slipping back into his alias’ accent like one slips on a well-tailored glove.
The barkeep nodded, adding it to the long mental list of orders he somehow managed to remember. Bry then slid into an absentminded stare at the many bottles lined behind the bar as he listened to the conversations rising up around him.
“Do ye think the prince is really alive?”
“Shhh, not so loud…”
“Alive or dead, I’ll tell ye one thing, we can’t survive like this much longer. Got my horse back yesterday, but his body’s sickly and he acts like some walkin’ corpse.”
“What are ye gonna do, eh? My cousin got picked up by the Guard a week ago for lookin’ at ‘em the wrong way… Came back with an ugly brand on his arm and no fight left in his spirit. If you try anythin’, I guarantee that’ll be you, too. They’re breakin’ us like horses, one by one.”
The spy’s ear twitched at that. A brand? He knew about the horses. During the day, he had gone and scouted out a few of them. At first, he had thought Shadow had used dark magic to slay them and take over their bodies, but that didn’t make sense. Spells like that were too taxing for him to expend upon every horse in the city.
However, upon closer look Bry realized something familiar. Their bodies were emaciated, much like the night mares Levee had told him were cursed. It was highly likely Shadow was using a similar method on the people’s equines to control them.
The brands were something far more complicated. Shadow used them to track his slaves and force them into submission. With a direct binding to his will through magic, he could render these people useless during the rebellion. The master spy frowned.
“Well met, Rylee.”
Bry looked up to find Erran, the old, bearded rahee who was one of the leading voices behind the Armed Maiden’s regulars.
“Aye, well met indeed,” the re’shahna offered a friendly smile just as Teeg served him a frothy mug. He lifted the drink in Erran’s direction before taking a sip as the old rahee sat down beside him.
Erran was a fatherly sort. He had taken to Bry soon after they met, having judged the re’shahna as someone of good character. “How’s your family doin’?”
Bry shrugged. “As well as you’d expect. I was able to buy ‘em some food today but even my coin purse is gettin’ light.”
Erran shook his head. “I hear ye.”
Another mug of mead appeared, this time in front of the old rahee. He lifted it in thanks and took a long sip. Leaning his arms upon the bar, Erran swallowed the brew back and sighed, his eyes growing distant. “I ain’t one for dreamin’ too lofty, but I like to imagine what life’ll be like if this hell really ended.”
Bry nodded, but kept silent. He watched as Erran’s face grew somber, his thoughts quietly spilling out. “Ye know, I met Prince Jaycent once.”
“Oh?”
“Aye, a good lad he was. His father, King Donovan, was a fine ruler, too. I was commissioned to build the throne that Shadow’s arse now sits upon many years ago.”
Bry’s eyes widened with genuine surprise. “Really?”
Erran nodded, his gaze still distant as if he were reliving the memory. “Got to know the king and his boy fairly well durin’ those days. King Donovan was surprisingly down to earth. He liked to watch me work and ask me questions. Even made time to know my name,” the old rahee chuckled. “The lil’ prince was always on his father’s heels back then. So full of life, he was, and eager to follow in his father’s footsteps.”
“How old was he then?” Bry wondered, for that didn’t sound like the royal rogue he knew at all.
“Seven, perhaps? Eight? Not quite sure exactly, but that moment stuck with me. I believed in the lil’ prince even when he was less than perfect.”
Bry cocked his head. “You mean when he got older?”
“The king and queen’s unexpected passing hurt us all, Rylee,” Erran explained. “But none so much as the prince. He was never the same after that, but none of us lost faith in ‘em. To us, his pain showed how much he cared. He was hurtin’, but not broken. The love of his people could of healed that, in time. Had Shadow not come through, I bet Prince Jaycent would’ve grown into a fine king.”
Bry nodded, moved by the rahee’s unyielding faith. “Remarkable people, the horse folk…” he murmured. “I’ve never seen loyalty quite like ours.”
“Aye, fiercely loyal, but it’s never a misplaced devotion. I admit, I’m still not convinced o’ this rumor, but I sure hope it’s true. Good folk, the Connor family… So long as one of ‘em lives, the rahee would follow ‘em.”
The door burst open suddenly, causing the pair to jump. Jerking their heads over their shoulders, Erran and Bry watched a cloaked figure stumble through the door and retreat to the corner of the bar.
Erran smirked. “Why do I get the feelin’ he’s runnin’ from somethin’?”
Bry stared hard at the figure now slouched in the corner. His height along with the deerskin fabric of his boots told him exactly who had arrived. “Yeah, I’m gettin’ that vibe, too.” Looking at Erran, he added, “Think we should talk to ‘em?”
Teeg started to walk out from behind the bar, irked by the stranger’s abrupt arrival. However, Bry stood and held up his hand, signaling for the barkeep to wait.
The tavern grew quiet as Bry approached the stranger, his steps cautious. “Ho there,” he greeted.
The figure didn’t respond.
“Are ye new in town?” he tried again as he drew closer to the cloaked figure’s chair.
Again, there was no answer.
Bry reached for the stranger’s shoulder. “Hey—”
The stranger reacted so quickly, Bry barely had time to blink. As the figure turned to reach for his forearm, the master spy pulled away, snagging his finger over the lip of the stranger’s hood as he did.
Just as they had planned.
The subtlety of Bry’s movements eluded all that were present as he slid the hood back. To onlookers, it seemed as though Bry had merely scrambled to evade the stranger’s sudden reach, but every bit of this was an act.
With Atuli unveiled, his fierce gaze pinned upon Bry’s shocked countenance, they had managed to capture the attention of everyone present.
“You’re… You…” Bry took a step back, his finger pointing at the stranger. Looking at Erran, his face blanched.
Truly, there was no better role for living up to the re’shahna’s legendary reputation than Atuli. Nearly seven feet tall, the tribal warrior stood, a white scar running through one of his raven brows. His eyes were traced in black charcoal, a circular pattern running parallel with th
e bold lines that ran from the edge of his eyes toward his temples. Upon his forehead, a white birthmark contrasted against his tan skin, much like the star on the crest of a horse.
Teeg nearly dropped the mug he was filling as his jaw fell toward the floor. “What in the Abyss…”
“Erran?” Bry turned to the old rahee, his eyes pleading for him to take the reins on this. The master spy knew the people here trusted him. Whatever revelation the sharp-minded carpenter could glean from Atuli would be received if Erran backed it.
“By Tennakawa’s breath…” Erran stepped forward, his courage tempered only by his caution. “You’re a re’shahna.”
Atuli hovered a hand over the scabbard on his hip as he tossed a wary eye toward the old rahee. “And no enemy…” he insisted. “Please, I mean no harm.”
Erran looked around. “Forgive us, but your kind don’t come ‘round these parts much. Tell us your name, and why you’re in Velagray of all places.”
Surrounded by over two dozen patrons, the re’shahna frowned. “Atuli,” he tapped his chest, indicating that it was his name. “I was sent here to prepare.”
“Prepare for what?” Erran asked, and Bry tried not to smile. The rahee was a natural leader and the others rallied behind his courage.
Atuli studied the crowd carefully, as if trying to determine whether he could trust them. “The return of your prince…” he replied.
Bry flooded his voice with excitement. “As in Prince Jaycent? Have you seen ‘em?”
The re’shahna should his head, and Bry nearly faltered in his act. “Prince Sadikaye.”
Confused faces sprouted across the room and the master spy furrowed his brow. This was not part of their plan. What was Atuli thinking?
“Jaycent Connor’s son,” the re’shahna continued. “My people, we kept him safe after Prince Jaycent died. Now he is grown with an army behind him. He intends to take back his father’s throne and the re’shahna stand by his side.”
Questions flooded the tavern as Atuli explained Sadikaye’s origins. Bry clenched his teeth, watching it unfold. Yet to his surprise, the truth did not falter the people’s faith. As expressions of awe evolved into excitement, the room came alive in a way that far exceeded the master spy’s expectations.
The Rogue Trilogy Page 100