Rogue

by Robyn Wideman

  Rogue frowned. If the attack happened below that ridge, he wouldn’t have time to warn Yosef and his men. He would be able to create some chaos and help the soldiers protecting Jasmin, but he wouldn’t be able to help them avoid the attack. “Seven hells,” he swore. He grabbed one of his magic potions and gulped it down. He’d need all the advantage he could get in this fight. He grabbed the roan’s reins and was about to jump on the horse’s back, but then the caravan came out of the trees into a small clearing where they could see him. Rogue took out a smoke bomb and used a little magic to modify it. He needed smoke and noise to make sure the riders below noticed it. He then threw it into the sky as high as he could. When the bomb was at its peak, it exploded with a loud bang that could be heard all the way down to the valley floor. The men in the caravan looked up the mountain and Rouge waved at them. He pointed ahead of them and crossed his arms. Someone in the caravan understood what he meant and they closed ranks.

  Rogue hoped they understood his meaning as he squeezed his legs against the roan’s side. The roan sensed his urgency and took off like a scared rabbit.

  As he rode down the hill, Rogue spotted a group of riders coming out of the trees behind the caravan. It was going to be a race to see who arrived at the caravan first. Rogue held on for his life as the roan shot down the mountainside like a mountain lion hunting down its prey

  Despite the roan’s incredible display of skill navigating the steep mountain, the riders hit the caravan before Rogue made the bottom of the hill. The battle was being fought both at the front and the back. Half of the soldiers had moved to the front of the caravan while the others were at the back fighting off the second wave of riders.

  Rogue came up behind the riders at the back of the caravan. He stabbed the first rider he met in the back and then reached across his saddle to slash the next man. The soldiers had formed a semi-circle around the back of the last wagon and were using their shields to protect the archers on the wagon who were firing at riders and into the trees towards enemy archers.

  Some of the attacking mercenaries noticed Rogue and turned to fight him, but in the chaos of battle they were having a hard time controlling their horses, while the hammerhead roan seemed to enjoy battle. It moved in sync with Rogue’s every request. With just the pressure of his knees at the roan’s side, the animal knew where Rogue wanted him to go. Dancing sideways, bumping into mercenaries’ mounts, knocking riders to the ground. The roan was creating nearly as much as havoc among the mercenaries as Rogue was with his sword.

  Two more mercenaries went down under Rogue’s sword, and the battle at the back of the caravan was now turning in the defenders’ favor with Rogue’s help.

  Suddenly one of the riders jumped from his horse, knocking Rogue off the roan.

  As Rogue hit the ground, he felt a sharp pain. His ribs, not totally healed from the battle in Golrog and then the fight with the assassins on the return home, were damaged again. He ignored the pain and stood to meet the warrior who’d knocked him down.

  The man was agile and quick. Rogue noticed that he was dressed differently from the rest of the mercenaries around him. Rogue suspected that this was one of Vernon’s men, not the bandits from Chambia. The man moved in quick with an aggressive thrust that would’ve sliced into Rogue’s stomach if he hadn’t turned out of the way. Rogue could see surprise in the man’s eyes as his own sword slashed his throat. The aggressive attack had left the man open to the counterattack. As the man fell, Rogue looked around. The king’s soldiers now had things in hand and there were only a few bandits left at the back of the caravan.

  Rogue spotted the bandit who was barking orders at the remaining bandits, but his orders were in vain. The well-trained soldiers were cutting his men down and no commands he gave were helping them get out of this mess. Rogue spotted one of the king’s soldiers about to attack him, but Rogue wanted this one for himself. If he’d led the attack on the Grant estate, he needed to pay.

  Rogue shouted that the last man was his and the soldier backed away. The man had already leaped off his horse and looked like he was ready to run. With the soldiers behind him, blocking his escape, he knew his day was done.

  “What’s your name?” Rogue said as he slowly circled the man who with one hand held a sword by his side, dripping flecks of fresh blood into the dust of the road, and with the other gripped the reins of his mount.

  “I am Tenga Kalo of Gurda, Chambia.”

  “Well, Tenga Kalo. Why are you attacking a caravan in a kingdom that isn’t yours?”

  “I was paid to, sir. I’m but a simple farmer who needed money.”

  Rogue looked at the man’s expensive leather armor. That was no purchase made by a simple farmer. His story was a lie to paint himself in a better light. It fell upon deaf ears.

  “Who paid you to commit such atrocities as here and at the Grant estate? Don’t look so surprised. I know about that too.”

  “I...I...beg you, sir. I had no idea who was in there.”

  “Just that you should kill them all?”

  “Yes,” Kalo said, bowing his head, but Rogue could see it was little more than a ploy, as his eyes were searching for an escape.

  The sound of clashing weapons and the panicked whinnies of horses from the front of the caravan meant Rogue didn’t have much time to find anything else out. He already knew that Vernon Glaire would have been the paymaster.

  “Give me your sword, farmer.”

  Kalo slowly raised his sword and offered the hilt to Rogue. Rogue took it, then with a grimace on his face that the soldiers watching him would later swear came from the pits of all hells, he rammed the sword forward into the eye socket of Tenga Kalo. With a short scream, the man lifted a hand to grasp the blade, but the hand dropped again before it reached the sword. Instead his body, leaking blood from the socket, fell dead to the ground.

  It was a questionable act by Rogue and he knew it, not allowing a man to fight to his death, but the man had willingly attacked women and children and then in the heat of battle he’d cowered and handed over his weapon. The man didn’t deserve a warrior’s death, and Rogue didn’t have time for niceties, as battle raged ahead of him now. Tenga Kalo had sealed his fate when he attacked the Grant estate.

  Ahead of him, three of the king’s guards were working together against two of the ambushers, while further on it was one on one. He left the three guards to do what they were trained for and headed further along the caravan, searching out Vernon Glaire. One man charged him like a bull, hoping to take him down with sheer might and momentum, but Rogue’s enhanced vision made it seem like the man was moving in slow motion. He sidestepped easily and swiped a sword across the man’s back, chopping into flesh and bone, severing his spine as he floundered past. The man landed face-first on the dusty ground with an agonized howl.

  Looking ahead, Rogue saw that the wagon in front of him was empty. The soldiers had either jumped onto the back of the last wagon to protect against the attack at the back or moved towards the front of the caravan where the battle was still heated. Twenty feet away, Yosef Rosa was standing on the ground, defending the carriage Rogue assumed Jasmin was in. Facing him were two men who looked like they were toying with the formidable Yosef Rosa. Rogue knew he needed to help Yosef before going on to help at the front of the caravan. Yosef was the one warrior he knew he could trust to protect Jasmin while he helped kill the rest of the attackers. And from the sounds and looks of what was going on at the front of the caravan, Rogue was needed badly. He would have to be careful with these two. They weren’t going to do anything rash or dive into a fight helter-skelter.

  Just from the way they held themselves and fought against Yosef, he knew they were a pair of top assassins who were happy to be patient to get the job done. They had split up, so Yosef was having to defend from two directions at once, and he was showing signs of wearing out. Rogue could see several cuts that were leaking blood onto the road. Not deadly, but enough to make him lose the speed he would need to defend h
imself. Blood loss would do that to any man, even one as physically fit and able as Yosef.

  As soon as he took up position next to Yosef, he felt the man’s spirits rise, felt the surge of energy that came with knowing he had only one front to fight on. He also saw the uncertainty that suddenly appeared on the brutish features of the man he now faced.

  Rogue looked at the man for a second, then probed, attacking his defenses. The man defended and stepped back. Rogue drove forward, delivering a withering attack of thrusts and swinging blows at breakneck speed that left his opponent bleeding heavily from cuts to his arms and legs. But Rogue was patient, waiting for the inevitable desperate attack he knew would come to try and recover his former advantage.

  It was human nature at play. The man wanted to take back the thing Rogue had taken from him, and when the attack came, Rogue was ready. The surge came when Rogue had his back against the carriage. Spotting that he was penned in, the man thrust forward, his sword pointed straight at Rogue’s throat. Rogue saw the viciousness in the man’s eyes as he waited, seeing everything with a clarity only his magic potion could imbue.

  At the last second, as he saw the sharpened tip of the man’s sword approach, glinting in the afternoon sun, he sidestepped away. The man’s momentum drove him forward and his sword nicked Rogue’s neck before it dug deep into the wooden carriage and held firm. As he kept moving forward, Rogue swept to the side and thrust his own sword straight into the ribcage of his opponent, driving it in almost to the hilt.

  The man turned to spy Rogue, surprise the last light in his dying eyes. Rogue raised a boot and sent the assassin’s body to the ground as he slid his sword back out. He flicked away the blood and turned to face the other of Vernon Glaire’s men.

  He could see the fear in the man’s face now he was facing two formidable fighters, but he was nothing if not brave, continuing the fight as Rogue and Yosef turned the tables on him, splitting up and attacking from two directions at once. The man succumbed within minutes, sinking to his knees after a swinging blow from Rogue caught him across the leg. He was put out of his misery by Yosef.

  Rogue grabbed his neck, checking on the wound inflicted by the first of the two assassins. The wound was bleeding, but it was little more than a scratch. It hadn’t gone deep enough to truly hurt him.

  “Are you hurt?” Rogue asked Yosef.

  “Nothing a few bandages and some salve won’t cure once the fight is done,” Yosef said.

  Rogue knew the man was likely in worse shape than he was admitting, but there was little to be done. “Stay here. Protect Jasmin. I’ll help the men at the front.”

  Yosef nodded and resumed his position.

  Rogue looked to the front of the caravan, expecting to see a slaughter. The last time he’d had a chance to look at the fight, the attacking mercenaries had been whittling down the king’s soldiers. But the front of the caravan couldn’t be seen. There was a huge cloud of smoke and the yells from the mercenaries’ side were not ones of victory. Someone was causing chaos among them, much like he’d done at the back of the caravan. Someone else had joined in fighting off the attackers. But before Rogue could join the fray, he spotted another target, one he knew by reputation only. Vernon Glaire.

  Up ahead of him, Vernon Glaire had steadily worked his way through the guards who had valiantly tried to defend the second wagon and its valuable contents. They had been no match for the wily assassin, and as he strode along the road, slicing down the king’s soldiers, his face was a mixture of elation and anticipation at the mayhem he had spread and for what he hoped to come.

  When he saw Rogue, his face broke into a grin. Even with the tides of battle turning against him, Vernon Glaire had the look of a man filled with bloodlust. He moved swiftly towards Rogue.

  “The mighty Rogue. Or should I call you Mendris?” Vernon taunted.

  “It matters not what you call me, Vernon Glaire.”

  Vernon grinned, confirming his identity.

  “I take it you’re responsible for killing all of my men?”

  “Not just I, Glaire. Brave men like the ones behind me have fought your men and defeated them.” Rogue looked around Glaire to the men lying dead and wounded on the ground behind him. “Even if it has come at grievous cost to them. A cost I will ensure you repay with your blood.”

  Glaire laughed. “These lives have little value. Yours, however, has an immense value. When I’m done killing you and the princess, I’ll be a rich man. In fact, I already have plans for my own little kingdom. I will raise a statue in your honor.”

  Behind Glaire, who seemed intent on hearing his own voice, Rogue could see a shadowy figure dancing through the enemies, slashing and cutting them down with an unnatural speed. A speed he hadn’t witnessed since the war. At first thought, it sounded crazy, but if he wasn’t mistaken there was a shadow warrior fighting for the king’s soldiers. Had King Drake hired one of his countrymen? Rogue was curious to know, but first he had to deal with the man responsible for so much death.

  “No pithy reply? I’m disappointed, Mendris. I’ve been looking forward to this meeting for so long.” Vernon then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial. He pulled out the stopper with his teeth and chugged down its contents. “I know all about your shadow magic, Mendris.” Vernon shook the empty vial. “Now you’re not the only one with enhanced abilities.”

  Rogue watched in surprise as Vernon’s face went red. How had he gotten his hands on the potion? And did he know what effects it would have on him? Shadow warriors used potions to enhance their speed, strength, and awareness, but they did it over years, taking tiny amounts to train their bodies to accept the powerful magic. To take a full dose on the first try would make Vernon powerful beyond his natural capacities for a very short time, but then his body would reject the magic and he’d be in a world of pain, if not death. However, that wasn’t Rogue’s immediate concern. Right now, all he could worry about was defeating Vernon. And right now, this famous assassin was his equal in strength and speed. It would come down to who was the more skilled fighter.

  Vernon cracked his back and then flexed his arms. “By the gods. This is glorious. I feel like I could crush you with my bare hands.”

  Rogue didn’t doubt it. Depending on the strength of the potion, he possibly could. His own magic potions that he’d made with Zeke’s help were mild enhancers. Depending on the source of the potion Vernon had taken, it could have made him much stronger. Rogue moved forward. It was time to finish this.

  Vernon, with a maniacal grin, launched a stunning sequence of attacks. His blade swung low then high, then spun and slashed with such ferocity that it was all Rogue could do to defend himself against the attacks.

  Vernon kept pressing forward. Rogue ducked under one attack and tried to counter with an attack of his own, but Vernon slapped his arm aside and Rogue’s blade went wide. Rogue spun and brought his blade around with a slash that would take Vernon’s head off it landed. But Vernon slipped under the attack and delivered a spinning back kick to Rogue’s ribs.

  Rogue flinched and stepped back.

  Vernon smiled. “Ribs a little tender? They’ll be minced meat by the time I’m done with you.” He slashed down at Rogue’s head with a wicked overhead strike, and Rogue blocked it. Vernon delivered another kick to Rogue’s injured ribs.

  Rogue gasped in pain but was still able to block the next series of attacks.

  Vernon sensed victory. His confidence was growing with every swing of his sword. “King Glaire. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? I was thinking I’d make a play for the throne in Chambia, after all you’ve seen the warriors they have down there, they don’t inspire one to believe it would be very difficult to take that kingdom. However, with this potion, I need to think bigger. Once the girl is dead, King Drake will have no living relatives. No reason why I can’t be the next king of Evermeir.”

  Rogue said nothing. He just tried to catch his breath as Vernon almost lazily slashed with his sword, like a cat playi
ng with a mouse. Vernon felt his victory was near and was trying to prolong the moment.

  “And I won’t be one of those namby-pamby kings that only has one wife. I’ll have a harem like a proper king. Dozens of little bastard sons to choose a future ruler from. Perhaps I’ll even take over the entire continent, combining all the kingdoms of Mara into one. I’ll be the greatest king this place has ever seen. And it will all be thanks to you, Mendris Fox. The fool who thought he could save a princess from the world’s greatest assassin. Songs will be sung mocking your stupidity. But you’ll never hear another song, for it’s time to send you to the seventh hell where you surely belong.”

  Vernon raised his sword and brought it down with a powerful swing. But it was blocked. His face contorted in confusion. “What? No, you should be done.”

  Rogue stood taller and pushed Vernon back. “Whoever gave you that potion, did they tell you how long it would last?”

  “What, what do you mean?” Vernon asked in confusion.

  “I mean all this time you’ve been blabbering on about what a great king you’d make, the potion has been wearing off.”

  “Impossible,” Vernon said before launching another series of attacks to prove that Rogue was wrong. But each attack was blocked and soon Vernon’s arrogant smirk disappeared.

  Rogue was near exhaustion, but he’d been taking the potions since he was knee-high to a vraber, so his strength and speed were still enhanced. His energy was sapped by his injuries, but he’d been able to last through the majority of Vernon’s magically enhanced assault. Now he needed to end things. “Who set up this little killing spree of yours, Glaire? Why not tell me now rather than make me force it from you later? Then we can end this quickly and all be on our way.”