The Rogue Trilogy

by Elizabeth Carlton

  Upon contact, Lumiere unleashed a flash of light, blinding the pair. Shadow yanked himself free with a piercing whinny, his hooves forcing Jaspur back. Clearly, the light did more than sting his enemy, for Shadow shook his head profusely.

  This was Jaspur’s advantage. Shadow was so tainted that any contact with pure magic seared him like the wendigo the rogue had slain before. If Jaspur was to win, he had to pierce Lumiere deep enough to purge the darkness from Shadow’s body.

  But Shadow would not let that happen easily. The pair fell into a tense, circular pace as they looked for gaps in one another’s defense. While Shadow had much to fear from the rogue’s pearlescent horn, Jaspur had much to be wary of, too. The triple lances upon Shadow’s brow were nothing to swat his tail at. All of them were laced with tainted magic. Just as light magic purified the tainted, so did the tainted weaken the light. Essentially, they were opposites, composed of one another’s weakness.

  Shadow was first to seize the second offensive, aiming for Jaspur’s haunches. The rogue leapt aside, his hooves skidding against the slick stone. Turning about, he charged, horns leading toward Shadow’s belly. The re’shahna shifted, kicking out his back hooves when the rogue drew near.

  Jaspur veered, but he was too close to dodge it. He grunted as his horns were clipped by one of Shadow’s cloven hooves. Shaking it off, he offered up an angry neigh as he rose onto his hind legs. Shadow reared to meet him, and the pair exchanged a series of fearsome blows.

  Above their thrashing hooves, their horns fenced, ripping, tearing, and thrusting in attempt to find the other’s flesh. Eventually, the pair fell back onto four hooves, neither gaining the upper hand.

  Still, Jaspur didn’t slow his momentum. His front hooves had barely touched the ground when he dove forward, horns poised for Shadow’s neck. This time, he managed to graze his mark and claim first blood.

  Shadow retreated with a shriek, his neck smoking against the fierce touch of pure magic.

  “You will pay for that,” the tyrant growled. Shaking his fiery mane, he came on hard, snorting with every long stride.

  Jaspur charged as well, engaging his enemy in a loud clack that resounded throughout the castle. Sadikaye watched helplessly from above as the pair fought viciously to find an opening in the other’s defense.

  The young prince saw now why Jaspur told him to hold back. The sheer amount of strength displayed between the two was overwhelming. Without an equine form of his own, Sadikaye would never stand a chance.

  Jaspur and Shadow practically mirrored one another’s every move. Sweat coated both of their flanks, but they only seemed to gain momentum. Jaspur huffed as he dodged a burst of flame that singed his mane. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Shadow charging for him, horns aimed for his thigh.

  Ears back, Jaspur bucked, striking the dread stallion in the chest and sending him careening into the foyer’s front doors. They splintered, then tore against Shadow’s massive weight, screeching from their hinges as the dread stallion flew through them.

  Sadikaye shouted triumphantly as Shadow rolled down the castle’s front steps. Racing down the stairs, he followed his father’s galloping form out of the castle and onto the royal grounds.

  Outside, a foray was already in full force as Tobiano and Patchi led an attack upon the bulk of the Velagran Guard. In addition, the force that had stormed the city’s gates was flooding in, Levee included among their ranks.

  She watched from Siabra’s back as Jaspur leapt the entire stairway, nipping at Shadow’s flanks as the dread stallion barely made it up in time to avoid the tips of his dual horns.

  At the sight of the dueling equines, the battle in which Tobiano and Patchi were engaged lost its steam. None had expected Velagray’s king to make an appearance, much less while locked in battle with a massive unicorn stallion. They scrambled out of the way as the two equines continued their ferocious battle, their coats lined with shallow cuts, burns, and bites.

  It was an incredible display, but one that could not stay at its current pace. Jaspur was losing stamina. What shallow hits the tyrant had scored upon him were like poison, breaking his magical guard and sapping his strength. He could feel his limbs growing sluggish, his movements more clumsy. At this rate, it would only be a matter of time before he made a mistake.

  Sadikaye, he called, hoping the boy was listening.

  The young prince jabbed his staff into the gut of a Velagran Guard, then cracked him upside the head before lifting his ears attentively. Jaspur?

  Can you use your gift to distract Shadow?

  Sadikaye ducked to avoid an arcing blade before sweeping his staff behind the Velagran’s legs, sending him rolling down the steps. I can try.

  Give it everything you have, the rogue bid. I need you, son.

  The term “son” felt unexpectedly warm to Sadikaye. His biological father’s plea evoked every drop of courage the young prince possessed. He leapt upon one of the twin unicorn statues poised beside the castle’s doors, his hand outstretched as he reached for the mind of the mad tyrant.

  However, he quickly found that Shadow’s mind was far more resilient than the night mares he had controlled before. The moment his consciousness started to breach Shadow’s own, a scourge of magic whipped him back.

  “Ngh,” Sadikaye nearly fell off the statue, his body seized with incomprehensible pain until he swore his own blood was boiling. He cried out in agony, his ears pressed against his skull as he clung to the stone horn for balance.

  Fight it! Jaspur rammed Shadow, breaking his focus upon Sadikaye. Use your magic to rend the taint.

  Sadikaye summoned a large strand of innate magic and spread it throughout his body, burning away the darkness that Shadow had projected into him, but the process wasn’t instant. It took time, which Jaspur had to buy him.

  Evading a breath of flame that scorched the grass around them, the rogue kicked forward, twisting his neck so that his horns slid between Shadow’s trident brow. As their heads connected, Jaspur wrenched his neck the other direction, lurching his enemy to the ground.

  Furious, Shadow rolled upon his back, kicking upward with his cloven hooves. Twice, he managed to strike Jaspur’s head, rattling the rogue’s senses while dislodging himself from the dangerous pin. As Jaspur pulled away, Shadow rolled forward, his horns rising to meet the rogue’s chest.

  A malicious glean found Shadow’s eyes, his victory before him. Inches away from the rogue’s belly, there was no way that he could evade the mortal blow.

  But then, out of nowhere, a flash of brown and white sped between them. Shadow’s head jerked left, his body dragged with it as a lithe elemental parried his strike.

  “Patchi!” Shadow roared, jerking his head free.

  The clever chieftain had transformed into his equine form just in time to steal the tyrant’s triumph. As his pinto form galloped away, Jaspur came on, his horns swinging and jabbing in quick succession.

  With the rogue keeping their enemy engaged, Patchi charged through a crowd of Velagran Guards, scattering them for the rebel troops before veering back to the castle’s entrance where Sadikaye still stood upon the statue. Leaping up the steps, Patchi turned and offered his back.

  Get on, he ordered the young prince.

  With a nimble hop, Sadikaye did just that, dropping into a seat upon Patchi’s back and seizing his mane.

  Melah, use Siabra to separate Shadow from his men. The chieftain had a plan, for he knew that Jaspur wouldn’t find his mark alone.

  Levee kicked Siabra into a gallop, her hooves sending tremors through the ground that forced the scattered Guardsmen to their knees. With their numbers dwindled and the rebel army flooding the royal grounds, it didn’t take long to force them into submission. Tobiano rallied their ranks, herding any who dared to escape back toward the rebel soldiers with the threat of his magically charged horn. Their movements left Shadow alone with Jaspur, the pair still locked in a vicious stalemate as they tried to gain the upper hand on the other.

&n
bsp; Sadikaye, you must get a grip on Shadow’s will. Help Jaspur find an opening by whatever means possible, Patchi instructed as he once again charged toward the dueling pair.

  How? The young prince argued. The moment my will touches his, he poisons me.

  Endure, Patchi replied. Just as Jaspur does.

  Sadikaye swallowed back his fear. With the excruciating memory of Shadow’s influence still fresh in his mind, the rahee did his best to capture the same courage Jaspur possessed.

  The rogue’s tan coat was now matted with blood, but he fought valiantly, his horn flaring in a burst of light that made Shadow screech in pain. Fire billowed between them, its orange swells thrusting heat into Jaspur’s face as embers flurried, scalding his skin.

  Hooves flashed between the flames and horns cracked like thunder. Bright blue magic intertwined with black, sparking with resistance as they cancelled each other out. Like gods, the two fought, but the polarity of their gifts left them at an impasse.

  Sadikaye had never witnessed a more mesmerizing or terrifying scene in his entire life, and he was about be thrown into the midst of it in an effort to turn the tide. Sliding his bo staff back into the holster on his back, he yanked the rope from his hip and tied it into a lasso.

  Now, Sadikaye, Patchi ordered.

  As Patchi rode by the pair, Sadikaye pulled a daring move: he leapt onto Shadow’s back. Jaspur whinnied, his eyes wide in horror as Shadow immediately began to buck.

  Sadikaye clenched his legs around Shadow’s torso as he tried to loop the rope around Shadow’s head. Enraged, the tyrant flared his mane, scalding the prince’s hands.

  Endure, the boy reminded himself. Seething through the pain, he reached forward again, this time snagging the loop around Shadow’s muzzle. Yanking the rope back, he pulled it toward his hip, forcing Shadow’s head to turn.

  A smart move if this had been a mere horse, but as their gazes met and Shadow narrowed his cabernet eyes, the young prince realized his mistake. As he stared down Shadow’s tri-horn lances, it was now or never.

  He grabbed the dread stallion by the nearest horn, willing his magic into the conduit of Shadow’s power. The tyrant whinnied loudly, his own magic surging into Sadikaye’s hand and up his arm, turning his veins black.

  Silence fell upon the battlefield as Sadikaye gave into a primal cry. It was a chilling sound composed of both pain and grit. Inside Shadow’s mind was chaos; a series of unbridled emotions drowned beneath countless voices. But for a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—Sadikaye Connor held Shadow’s insane mind within his grip.

  It was barely a breath long. The young prince’s arm trembled with agony, his mind barely resisting Shadow’s influence as he willed the tyrant to simply “stop.” But that moment was all it took.

  Jaspur bowed his head, Lumiere’s ever-sharp tip plunging into Shadow’s exposed chest. The illusionist’s body cracked like parched earth as his body swelled with light. Sadikaye wrenched the rope of his lasso back, holding those nasty horns at bay as Jaspur pressed his horns deeper into their enemy’s chest.

  The magic that coursed through Shadow sang, burning away centuries of darkness that had festered inside of his sick frame. When he screamed, it sounded like the screech of a dying dragon, his voice cascading beyond the city toward the unyielding mountains.

  Then, with a bright burst of light, Shadow was no more. Sadikaye fell with a thud to the ground, the rope in his hands falling limp beside him. As he rolled onto his back, his tainted arm hugged tight against his chest, he stared incredulously at Jaspur through the cloud of ash.

  Jaspur stared back, his chest heaving as he stood on quivering legs. Shouts rose up around them as the voices of rebel forces and citizens alike rejoiced.

  The deed was done.

  In one, incredulous moment, Velagray died with the darkness that created it.

  GOODBYES

  Levee stood alone in one of the castle’s many rooms, her eyes pinned on Milo’s body as it rested upon a newly made bed. He had been cleaned and dressed, his hair tied back in a neat, curly tail.

  The way they positioned him was convincingly serene. One palm was rested gently on his chest, the other by his side, as his fingers assumed a relaxed curl. Had his chest not been still, Levee would have sworn he was merely sleeping.

  The re’shahna who had prepared him for this goodbye did their homework. His clothes were of a Sarrokian cut, a vest made of fine fabric tucked over a fresh, white shirt. The deep V-cut shirt so common in the southern region was buttoned shut, concealing wounds that would never heal.

  Yet this room made him look sorely out of place. Velvet curtains hung over a large window. The sunlight gleaned through it, reflecting off of the nearby mirror, its copper frame elegant and ornate. The bed itself had four tall posts, each one carved from mahogany.

  It was a lavish setting meant for nobility, which Milo was surely not. He had never had an ounce of royal treatment in his life, but Sadikaye and Jaspur both had insisted he receive the burial of a hero.

  Levee’s mate was given a place in the catacombs beside generals and other rahee honored by the king. If Milo were alive to see this, he would find the entire gesture humorous.

  But Sadikaye wasn’t ready to let his adopted father go just yet. He wanted him close, and that was a request Milo would never have refused. Levee knew this; she knew him so well that saying goodbye made her wonder if she knew herself without him.

  “You promised me you wouldn’t leave me like this…” she whispered as she took a seat on the bed by Milo’s side. “Many years ago, do you remember? You came home after defending our village singlehandedly from the monster that gave you that limp. I made you swear to me never to act so recklessly… yet here we are.

  “I don’t know how to go on without you. You’ve been by my side since we were kids. I—” she choked on her words, her chest swelling with grief.

  As the door behind her clicked open, Levee closed her eyes, reining her tears back. Inhaling slowly, she stood and turned to greet whoever stepped inside.

  Sadikaye stood before her, dressed once more in the garb of royalty. He seemed taller somehow. A silver circlet framed his hairline, its design identical to the one Jaycent Connor wore many years ago. The young prince’s hair was styled in the same way it was in Moonridge, his own personality shining through the silk and jewelry.

  But the look on his face was that of a son in mourning. His eyes, red with grief, broke Levee’s heart all over again. Biting his lip, he stared unblinking at Milo’s still form spread across the bed. A hardness cast over his expression as he took in the sight of his father’s soulless body. For his mother’s sake, Sadikaye tried to be strong, but the effort was strained.

  Levee smiled through her own tears. “It’s okay to hurt, Sadi. People like Milo… they’re worth aching for.”

  Sadikaye walked over to the bed. Slowly, he reached out, his hand hovering over his father’s palm. Looking at his mother, he whispered, “May I?”

  Levee nodded, motioning with her hand for him to sit by Milo’s side. Sadikaye plopped down beside his father and took a deep breath. “Damnit, Pa…” Tears slid from his eyes and streaked down his face. “You just had to be a hero, huh?”

  “Sadikaye…” Levee started to comfort him, but her son wasn’t done.

  “One day, I hope to be as strong as you; to have your courage,” he squeezed his father’s hand, as if trying to pull strength from it. “I’ll take care of Ma, so you won’t have to worry. Jaspur told me that the dead don’t die. He said they keep watching over us until it’s our time,” he chuckled softly. “I guess he’d know, right?

  “Anyway, I miss you, Pa,” he whispered, squeezing his father’s palm. “It hurts, seeing you here but knowing you’re somewhere else; somewhere we can’t go. We’re surrounded by good people, yet even when the sun is at its highest and every window is open, the world still feels veiled. Without you here, it’s like… wearing a heavy cloak. I carry the weight with me everywhere.” With a
loud sniffle, he kissed the back of Milo’s hand, then his forehead. “But we’ll be okay. I promise, we’ll make it. I’ve got a lot to do before I join you. It’ll be a legacy worthy of lore, you’ll see. And I know if I do it right, one day I’ll be someone worth aching for, too.”

  Rising to his feet, Sadikaye looked to his mother. Not a dry eye stood between them. She wrapped her son in her arms, squeezing him tightly. They stood like that for many long minutes, drying their tears upon each other’s shoulders. When the young prince finally pulled away, he took a deep, shuddering breath. “I need some air. Is that okay?”

  “Of course,” Levee nodded.

  She watched him go before turning back to Milo. A sad smile creased her lips as she ran her fingers delicately through one of his curls. “You helped me raise a fine son…”

  Her words were swallowed by the silence as the reality of his death started to settle in. His eyes were closed, his face rested passively in a foreign state of peace. Somehow, Milo no longer looked like Milo. His body was the same, but the vibrant personality that brought it to life was painfully absent.

  Her mate; her best friend… was gone.

  A mournful cry rose in her throat, but Levee swallowed it back. She could not let this break her. Even though her soul felt shattered, she had to persevere. So long as there was air in her lungs, she had a life to live.

  But how? She didn’t know. Levee felt stuck in this moment, unable to look away or let go. She stared unblinking at Milo’s visage, wishing beyond hope those eyes would open and all of this would prove to be a horrible dream.

  When Jaspur stepped inside, she didn’t notice. The rogue was quiet, careful not to impede upon her space as he watched her evade the goodbye she wasn’t ready to say.

  Should he speak up? If anyone understood her pain, it was he. Jaspur had said more painful goodbyes than he could bear to count. It never got easier, and the ache never completely dissipated. He carried their absence with him, just as he knew Levee and Sadikaye would carry Milo’s for the rest of their lives.