Rogue

by Robyn Wideman

Momentarily, Glaire’s eyes widened. “You would spare me?”

  Rogue hooded his eyes against the sun as it now lowered toward the horizon.

  “Would you spare me?”

  Glaire grinned. “Indeed not, Rogue. I think we both know I won’t tell you who is behind this until my dying breath. They set me up for this, so I will tell you in hopes that you might decide to take their lives as you might take mine. Should I by some chance survive, they are already on a short list of people I will be paying a rapid visit to.”

  “Then dying breath it shall be.” Rogue launched a lightning-fast attack, whirling his sword so quickly it was little more than a blur, inflicting cut after cut on Glaire’s body without so much as a nick on himself. He was impressed that Glaire had defended against some of the blows and was still standing, although only barely. Most men would have given up well before then. Either there was still some magic in his system or he was just a tough bastard who refused to die.

  Defenseless, having dropped his sword, and leaning over, his hands on his knees, Glaire was panting heavily.

  “You ready to tell yet?”

  He looked up, the blood from a slicing cut on his forehead running down into his eyes.

  He shook his head but didn’t speak.

  Keeping a wary distance in case of some sneaky trick, Rogue walked behind Glaire, put his boot on his ass and pushed him to the ground, where his opponent lay, mortally wounded and heaving in short, spasmodic breaths. Rogue knelt by his side, looking down at the bloodstained skin of his face, which was turning pale under the scarlet splashes.

  “You ready to tell?”

  Glaire gulped a couple of breaths and gave a tiny nod. “One condition.”

  “Name it. If it’s in my power, I’ll grant it.”

  “Put me out of my misery? Please?”

  Rogue nodded. He would want the same.

  Rogue leaned in to hear what Glaire began to whisper. A minute later, he put one hand under Glaire’s chin and the other on his back. Then he snapped his neck.

  With Vernon dead, Rogue was done. He’d used the last of his energy to finish the man off. He slumped to the ground. He could only pray that Yosef and the soldiers would be able to finish the job. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a series of deep breaths, trying to regain his energy.

  A hand grabbed his shoulder and a soft feminine voice spoke. “Don’t die on me now, old man. I came too far for you to die now.”

  Rogue opened his eyes and thought he’d gone to the heavens. In front of him stood Lensa, his lost love. He blinked and looked again. “Lensa?”

  “You’re not dead and I’m not a spirit. And I’m definitely not Lensa.”

  Rogue took a deep breath. For a moment he had thought he’d passed to the next life only to be met by the love of his life. A feeling of relief and sadness filled him at the same time. If the beautiful creature in front of him wasn’t his Lensa, there was only one person it could be. “Raiya?”

  Raiya touched him gently on the face. “Good to see you too, Mendris.”

  ...

  With the battle completed, Yosef Rosa had quickly and efficiently reorganized the caravan wagons. The dead soldiers were placed in one wagon, where they would be taken home for a proper burial. The wounded took one of the remaining wagons and Yosef, along with several of his most trusted men, rode in and on top of the carriage carrying Jasmin.

  Rogue was riding ahead with Raiya, scouting the road to make sure no more surprises came their way, but with Vernon dead, he suspected the rest of the trip would be smooth sailing. His mind was focused on two things: the last words of Vernon Glaire and the arrival of Raiya Beal, the little sister of Lensa. She’d been a little girl the last time he’d seen her. Much had changed since then. She bore a striking resemblance to Lensa with her long blonde hair and large green eyes that changed to silver in the right light. But there were subtle differences. Raiya was taller with a more athletic build. Her body showed years of shadow warrior training, as did the carnage she’d caused when she’d joined the fight. If it weren’t for her, they likely would’ve succumbed to the mercenaries’ attack.

  “Mendris, why have you never come home?” Raiya asked. It was the first real question she’d asked since the battle.

  He paused, unsure how to answer. How could he explain the pain and shame he felt? The despair of losing Lensa and the death of his own brother. “I don’t know. It never felt right to return. Not after she was gone. I failed her.”

  “What a load of fly-infested horseshit,” Raiya said.

  Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Your reason for staying away is as stupid as a troll with a hard-on. Lensa was a shadow warrior, not some damsel you needed to rescue. She was a warrior and she died a warrior’s death. To talk as if her death was your fault is to dishonor her memory, and I won’t let you do that, Mendris Fox, not around me. She was proud to be part of the Shadow Brigade. She would’ve followed you and your brother to the corners of hell and back with a smile on her face. She knew she’d die in battle, but it didn’t bother her. She was with you. So you sitting around on your arse in the middle of nowhere carrying out your little revenge tour while the rest of us suffered is not what I want to talk about.”

  “What suffering are you talking about? I’ve sent my father enough gold to buy all the land in the province twice over.”

  Raiya gave a sharp laugh. “Well, you did a piss-poor job of sending that money. Your father hasn’t gotten a single copper or word from you since the war. And the Paulan Province is now part of King Dehalle’s territory. Our village, what’s left of it, is in hiding in the dark woods.”

  Rogue frowned. “This is news to me. Hombert never said a word of this when we last spoke.” Hombert was a trusted sailor who’d taken the Shadow Brigade all over the world. Surely there was a mistake.

  Raiya turned in her saddle to stare at Rogue. “Hombert? That’s who you gave coin to? That bastard is a traitor. He works for the king. And it’s Duke Hombert now. He has the biggest estate in all of Paulan Province. I’m guessing it was paid for with your coin.”

  Rogue’s guts turned like he’d been stabbed with a knife. Hombert had betrayed him? His family was hiding in the dark woods? “I don’t know what to say, Raiya. I’m sorry. I had no idea what was happening back home.”

  Raiya’s face softened. She sighed loudly and sat back in her saddle, looking at the road ahead. “Nothing you can do about the past. But will you at least return to Oshva with me? See for yourself what has happened.”

  Rogue’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I want nothing more than to go to Oshva and have a little talk with Hombert and Evander Welton.”

  “Welton? King Dehalle’s crazed dog? Why him?”

  “Welton was the one that hired Vernon to kill the girl and me. I owe him.”

  “Then you owe King Dehalle as well. Welton does nothing without the king’s permission. It was Welton who led the invasion of the Paulan Province.”

  Rogue rode silently after that. But anger was bubbling inside him. He’d been a fool to trust Hombert, but he had no one to blame but himself for not knowing what was going on in his home.

  31

  Rogue

  The remainder of the trip passed without further incident, though Rogue barely spoke a word. His thoughts were dark, of Raiya’s tale of what was happening in Oshva, but for now he still had a duty to the Grant family.

  When they were almost to the capital, Jasmin request that Rogue and Raiya join her in the carriage.

  As they entered the carriage, Jasmin looked at Raiya with curiosity. She then turned to Rogue with an expectant look on her face.

  “Lady Jasmin Grant, may I introduce you to Raiya Beal of the Paulan Province of Oshva.”

  Jasmin smiled at Raiya. “Thank you, Rogue. Raiya, I understand that you helped stop the attack on the caravan.”

  “It was nothing. I only did what any warrior would do in that situation. Besides, I need Mendr
is here alive.”

  “You are a warrior? They allow women to be warriors in your country?”

  Raiya laughed. “They have no choice. We’d cut their balls off if they tried to stop us. Besides, the best shadow warrior in all of Oshva is a woman.”

  Rogue raised an eyebrow.

  Raiya noticed Rogue’s expression and smirked at him. “What, you don’t believe me?”

  “I don’t doubt your skills. I just thought some of the Shadow Brigade still lived.”

  “They do, and I’m not talking about myself. Another has surpassed them all. I suspect she’s even stronger than you, although I will admit you being well-seasoned could have value beyond just power.”

  “Now you’re saying I’m old?”

  “Experienced,” Raiya said with a wink. “In our business, experience counts for much. That is why I’ve come to collect you.”

  “You came to collect him?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid your kingdom isn’t the only one facing challenges. Our people are being hunted by a king who wants to expand his kingdom, and it sounds like the same king is behind the attacks on you.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, if that is the case perhaps it would be a good idea for Rogue to accompany you home.”

  Rogue frowned, uncomfortable that the women seemed to be making his decision for him. It wasn’t that he disagreed with what they were saying, but he didn’t like anyone making decisions for him. His years of living in Draisha had made him very independent. “Very well. I will think on that for a while. Meanwhile, I believe it is time we made our entrance.”

  The caravan and carriage ground to a halt outside the grand entrance to the royal palace in Evermeir. Its imposing, solid stone walls gave off an air of impregnability as Rogue looked out the window of the carriage.

  Men-at-arms rushed forward to open the carriage door before Jasmin could reach over herself, and when the door was opened, a wooden step was in place for her to step onto.

  When she exited the carriage, the ladies-in-waiting who had accompanied the guards both curtsied deeply in their court robes and bowed their heads.

  “Your Highness, welcome to Evermeir.”

  Jasmin looked at Lilly and Marcos, then at Yosef, then at Rogue, each time with a deepening confusion.

  “What do I do?” she whispered to Marcos.

  “Just step out and say nothing, then head for the gate.”

  “No acknowledgment of the two women?”

  “No need.”

  “That’s a bit rude,” she said under her breath. “That’s the first thing I’ll change.”

  The journey back had also involved Magistrate Benton, who had hidden quivering under one of the bench seats in the carriage during the attack. He had been very surprised when the tip of one of Vernon Glaire’s henchmen’s swords had pierced the side of the carriage, coming to a halt less than an inch from his nose.

  He had gone over with Jasmin the family history proving her claim to the throne and had tried to impress on her the importance of some shred of continuity in the royal family. Otherwise, any potential enemies from other kingdoms might see Deytar as easy pickings for expansion.

  She had, after consulting with both Marcos and Rogue, agreed that she would be willing to take on the mantle should the king pass away. Yosef and the magistrate glanced at each other, which Rogue took to mean that time was approaching fast.

  As they headed into the palace, hearing the great door slam behind them, Rogue reflected that it had a very similar sound to that of a prison door closing behind him. He hoped that wasn’t Jasmin’s fate, to be locked in a spacious and gracious palace that was little more than a prison.

  The two ladies of the court led the way up the grand staircase that led from the entrance hall. When they reached the top, a door cracked open.

  “Jasmin.” A quiet voice emerged, then the door pushed wider.

  “Alonso!” Jasmin yelled. Alonso threw open the door wide and Jasmin ran to him. “I thought you were surely dead. Are you hurt?”

  “No, well, not very. I hurt my leg, so I cannot walk too freely right now, but I am healing. The healer here has been helping me. There is someone else here you might want to see.” He stood to one side.

  Jasmin looked into the dimly lit room. She clapped her hand over her mouth and couldn’t stop a small sob escaping from her lips at the sight of her mother, standing off to one side.

  “Mother?”

  Rogue watched on as the two women slowly stepped toward each other, then embraced for what seemed like a long time to Rogue but was probably only a few seconds.

  “Jasmin, thank god you are well. When Rogue said you had escaped, I hoped and hoped that you would find your way here.”

  Jasmin turned to look at Rogue. “You knew my mother was alive but didn’t tell me?”

  Rogue shrugged. “My apologies Princess. I have had much on my mind, and I didn’t want to inform you until you were both safely here.”

  “I forgive you, but next time—the gods forbid there is a next time—please tell me right away.”

  One of the ladies of the court spoke timidly from the hallway. “Your Highness, we need to go see the king. He is not well, and the healer fears he may be slipping away. He needs to name you as his successor.”

  Jasmin turned, and Rogue watched as she pulled herself up to full height and brushed down her dusty clothes.

  As the small group of weary travelers made its way through the grandeur of the palace, Rogue dropped back, not wishing to get in the way of the people most closely involved in the process of transforming Jasmin from a normal, everyday kind of girl to the princess she was always destined to be. When they finally arrived at the king’s chamber, he hesitated, but Jasmin pushed her way through the crowd and took him by the arm, dragging him along and insisting that he accompany her inside.

  The rest of the party stayed in the corridor outside the room.

  The king’s chamber was stuffy inside, no window open and late evening sun shining in. The flames on the candles that burned by the side of his bed never wavered, flickering only slightly whenever the air was disturbed by movement from someone within.

  In the bed, Rogue could see the king. He looked old and worn out. His skin was almost translucent, pulled thinly across his forehead. The gray hair he now carried was both stuck to his head and wildly erratic, sticking up in every direction. The once-powerful blue eyes that would command respect were rheumy and dull, sunken into their sockets so much that in the dim light it almost looked like they had disappeared entirely.

  The healer who had been sitting next to the king’s bed, an old man with a long white beard and wearing what looked like a long nightshirt, stood and laid his hand on the king’s as it lay on top of the covers.

  “Your Majesty, I must leave you now. Princess Jasmin is here.”

  The king’s voice, little more than a whisper, wavered slightly. “Thank you, old friend. You have served your king well. I hope to see you again soon.”

  The healer nodded but didn’t seem able to speak. He turned away from the king, bowed low to Jasmin, and stepped away and out of the room, sniffing loudly as he left.

  “Princess Jasmin? Please step forward so I can see you.” The king held up a pitifully bony hand that he barely got off the bed. It shook from the effort it took for him to lift it.

  “Your Majesty,” Jasmin said as she stepped forward and took the offered hand in hers.

  Rogue felt the nudge in his shoulder as the magistrate moved through. Rogue assumed he was there to observe that all of the legalities were in order, but Rogue didn’t need to see that. He knew Jasmin was suitable for the throne. He also knew that she was likely to breathe a breath of fresh air into the palace and all the outdated pageantry and hierarchy of court life.

  Jasmin was a strong-minded woman and she’d had years of living in Riverside where she had no restraints on her. She’d not accept the old expectations placed on a woman. Lilly alone would blow away a lot of the cobwebs of tradition
.

  He stepped backward out of the room. The information Vernon Glaire had given him had woken a desire. The man he said was responsible was well-known in his home kingdom. He had already decided that he needed more than anything else to go home, to find and kill the murderers and find out who was behind them. The debt he owed to Lady Grant now meant he felt a connection with Jasmin, and until those people who had plotted against her were wiped from the face of the earth, he would not rest easy. The fact those same men had attacked his own people, sending them into hiding in the dark woods, was double reason for him to visit Oshva.

  The sound of a gong being struck in the king’s room drew his thoughts back to what was happening. He leaned in through the doorway.

  Magistrate Benton was just putting the gong’s hammer back on the small table it was sitting upon as the last reverberations left the room.

  “The king is dead. I hereby notarize that as of the sounding of the gong, as is tradition in the kingdom of Deytar, the duly named successor to the throne is hereby Queen of the Realm and all of its Dominions. Queen Jasmin. A coronation will take place within two days in the great hall of this palace, where all loyal subjects of the queen will be able to pay their respects. Long live Queen Jasmin.”

  The crowd echoed the phrase dutifully, some more enthusiastically than others, noticeably the two ladies of the court who seemed to realize that their jobs there may be about to change considerably—from looking after an increasingly frail old man to trying to keep up with an energetic young woman. Rogue wondered if they would be able to keep up.

  Jasmin spoke. Rogue thought he detected a difference in her bearing already. “I hereby declare, as my first act as queen, that I am going to my chamber, wherever that is, to change my clothes and bathe away the aches and dust of my travels. I would like for everyone who has helped me get here to be allowed to rest and do the same. Then, once the sun has gone down, I would like you all to join me at the table to eat and drink to celebrate the life of the king as he starts his final journey. Times are changing. I need time to consider what should happen next and would value the counsel of all who have traveled with me.”